As the title suggests, the book argues that, prior to the Renaissance, the Middle Ages maintained a continuous and dynamic relationship with ancient theater (mostly the Latin tradition). To support this argument, the authors combine a lexical survey with an analysis of underlying concepts. More than tracking the survival of Latin terms, they aim to shed light on what these words may have meant to those who used or encountered them.
The written sources underlying the survey present certain biases but also provide valuable insights for understanding the theatrical historiography that evolved from its playful origins[1]. In this reception study, the notion of “cultural transfers”[2] is invoked to emphasize the dynamics and vehicles through which these cultural elements were transmitted.
To achieve their objectives, the authors draw on a wide and diverse corpus that spans both learned and vernacular sources, in a variety of languages: Latin, because of its widespread use across different regions and its role in mediating Greek culture; Italian, because of the continuity with Latin and the significance of the volgarizzamenti (vernacular translations); and French, for the early attestations of theatrical references. The study covers the period from the 12th century, marking the beginning of Romance documentation, to the early 16th century, just before the rediscovery and revival of ancient genres such as tragedy and comedy in literary-theoretical discourse.
The corpus includes ancient sources and their reception through translations of, and commentaries on history (Valerius Maximus and Livy), poetry (Ovid), and drama (primarily Terence and, in the form of excerpts, Seneca); the Christian tradition (Augustine, Boethius); erudite sources (grammatical and rhetorical treatises, Isidore of Seville, Vincent of Beauvais, John of Salisbury); and, to a lesser extent, iconography found in manuscripts and prints of Terence and Augustine.
This extensive documentation is used to align different sets of occurrences in order to outline the common perception of relevant words. Each text, however, is carefully situated within its specific cultural context, allowing the authors to identify various traditions. As a result, a significant portion of the book consists of a series of quotations, offering the reader a broad range of relevant sources, though at times this may distract from the central argument.
The authors pay close attention to characterizing linguistic phenomena such as borrowing, adaptation, neologisms, and, in particular, lexicalization. They argue that “l’écrit vernaculaire prend nécessairement un pari entre plusieurs possibles lexicaux” (p.39), and that the lexicalization of a term reflects the degree of familiarity with the concept it represents. The dramatic vocabulary, heavily influenced by Latin and long shaped by erudition, fully achieves its lexicalization by the 16th century, when ancient theatrical practices are revived in performance.
After this methodological overview, I give below a linear account of the book, warning that its many details and nuances are difficult to summarize without oversimplification. Following a conceptual, methodological, and historical introduction, the book is structured in three chapters, each corresponding to one of the three primary meanings of the word ‘theater’: as a textual genre, as a physical space, and as a spectacle.
The first chapter examines ancient theater as a textual genre, focusing on the study of the ancient forms of comedy and tragedy.
The word tragedy primarily gains prominence through numerous translations of Boethius’ De consolatione philosophiae and, in Italy, through commentaries on Dante’s Commedia. The French language coins several derived terms (e.g., tragicien, tragede, tregece), while Italian tends to use only the terms directly inherited from Latin (tragedia, tragico). Comedy, on the other hand, remains an erudite term in the 14th century, gradually spreading as the complement to tragedy. The only derived terms in use are the adjectives comico (Italian) and comique (French). The lexicalization of both terms occurs in the 15th century, as the practice of learned theater becomes more established in the noble courts.
For the most part, tragedy and comedy are treated as textual genres or rhetorical classifications (tragedy represents high style, comedy low style, and the medium one is represented by satire or elegy) whereas much less emphasis is placed on the connection of all three to the theatrical aspects of the ludi scaenici. The two generic terms function as markers of Antiquity, but commentators also attempt to draw parallels between the ancient genres and their modern counterparts: tragedy is compared to the chanson de geste or mystères, while comedy is likened to farces. The definition of the genres is largely based on Isidore of Seville’s Etymologiae (18.46), which states that comedy deals with common people, while tragedy tells the stories of the rich and powerful.
In addition to these conceptual distinctions, the tradition preserves the memory of many ancient playwrights. Euripides is still considered the archetype of the tragedian, despite the loss of most of his plays, just as Seneca is remembered through compendiums of his maxims. In the realm of comedy, the honor is granted to Menander and Terence.
The second chapter deals with theatre as a place and is referred to by the terms theatrum or scaena. According to etymologies, ‘theater’ is understood as ‘a place for viewing’ (spectacles or public assemblies), while ‘scene’ is associated with a ‘shadowed area’, sometimes a ‘small structure’ or ‘house’. The former term tends to be used broadly for any public space, with the distinction between theatrum and amphitheatrum often overlooked. The Latin theatrum remains common (with the extensive meaning of ‘public space’), and, by the 13th century, appears in French and Italian, with various orthographic forms. It usually serves to translate terms related to scaena, which becomes common only from the 14th century. Borrowings and derivations in the vernacular remain relatively rare.
This chapter carefully distinguishes between the lexical recovery of these terms and the meanings actually attributed to them. While ancient theater left behind archaeological traces, these are not always easy to interpret. Medieval observers were struck by the fact that the archaeological remains showed that ancient theaters were constructed of stone (in contrast to the wooden, ephemeral structures of their own time)[3] and were lavishly adorned with marble and gold. However, contemporary practices also influenced mental representations: what had originally been conceived as an open, uncovered space (such as a public place or crossroads) gradually came to be understood as a covered space (galleries or, in Italy, palazzi).
Culturally, theater came to symbolize the ancient cities, often viewed as pagan and immoral in the hagiographic tradition but also in authors such as Christine de Pizan and Boccaccio[4]. In a broader sense, the authors argue that memory and imagination are transmitted not only through words and objects but also through stories. They recall the most famous episodes from Roman history associated with theater: its foundation, linked to the rape of the Sabine women; Scipio Nasica’s prohibition of building a stone theater; and the allocation of seating according to the social rank of the spectators.
The chapter concludes with the observation that no attestations of theater in the sense of ‘dramatic practice’ appear before the 17th century, when a specific space is dedicated to an art which avails itself of Antiquity.
In the final chapter, “theater as spectacle” the authors explore a field in which the partiality and vagueness of the sources often lead to reinterpretations influenced by contemporary practices. Either modern terms actualize ancient practices, or they are used without regard for chronological distinctions when no clear difference is perceived.
Theater as ludus tends to fade from both the imaginary and the vocabulary. The root lud– becomes confined to erudite contexts, while the root ioc– emerges in the oral tradition, providing contemporary equivalents for ancient practices. Thus, the actor is called jocator (medieval [?] Latin), jongleur (French), or giullare (Italian), and ludus is translated as jeu (French) or gioco (Italian).
To refer to the actor, the Latin term actor, which is polysemic, is not always used in a theatrical context. Histrio remains active in Latin, while the Greek borrowing hypocrita, influenced by Christian tradition, shifts in meaning and loses its theatrical connotation. The unclear boundary between the roles of the author and the actor is reflected in the use of poeta to refer to an actor. Terms like the Italian buffone and bastelletto, or the French menestrel and basteleur, show that the verbalization of performance draws more from contemporary reality than from Latin derivations.
Descriptions of actors’ behavior on stage, rarely found, leave room for vagueness and free adaptation. The verb recitare becomes dominant, influenced by late-antique practices that reduced theater to a static vocal performance. In French (15th century) and Italian (16th century), the term acquires its technical sense of dramatic performance. Besides reciter, verbs such as lire (suggesting the reading of a text), raconter or narrer (focusing on the plot), dire or chanter (referring to poetic works) are rarely distinguished. The movements of actors are the most obscure aspect of the reception of the spectacle. The Latin verb saltare implies that movements were rhythmic and lively. In the vernacular sources, it is replaced by French baller and Italian ballare, although dance and music separate from theater. Similarly, the chorus loses its theatrical specificity and comes to denote any group of singers. Props are largely disregarded, except for the mask in iconography, whereas clothing plays a role in distinguishing genres.
Duval and Guadagnini tackle the complex notion of spectacle as ‘giving to see’, which is expressed through the concepts of ‘representation’ and ‘imitation’. They emphasize the lack of lexemes referring to Antiquity and their lack of technicality: imitari disappears, while fingere evolves with a negative connotation, implying dissimulation and deception. These imprecise concepts give rise to many accumulated terms in the texts, with vernacular equivalents filling in for Latinisms and explaining them.
In a final, highly stimulating section, the authors address broader issues. Regarding the function attributed to ancient theater, they highlight both its didactic value and its moral reprehensibility, based on the religious dimension of the ludi. This seemingly contradictory stance nuances the complex relationship with ancient theater, reflecting dynamics of foreignization and appropriation, summarized as follows: “on constate donc un hiatus entre le fait que les modalités de représentation du théâtre antique sont nettement perçues comme révolues d’une part et d’autre part la proximité apparente, suggérée par le lexique vernaculaire, entre les ‘spectacles publics’ du passé et du présent.” (p.510).
In the general conclusion, the authors note that it is “impossible de parler d’un savoir partagé sur le théâtre antique au Moyen Âge” (p.527) since the degree of familiarity with it depends on the intellectual circles of the authors and their readers. The connection to Antiquity is more strongly felt in the theater as a physical space, whereas the textual genres are not always situated within a Graeco-Roman context, even though they become increasingly associated with specific places. However, it is in the realm of performance that the modernization of terms most obscures the ancient specificity. These shifts are reflected in the vocabulary: while borrowings signal an acknowledgment of distance from the original concept, vernacular innovations integrate it into modern cultures.
Frédéric Duval and Elisa Guadagnini present an impressive study, both in extent and meticulousness, with very few misspellings or typographical errors[5]. The end of the volume is dedicated to an anthology of Latin and vernacular sources, as well as a selection of ten illustrations. Finally, the various indexes (of concepts; Latin, Greek, French, and Italian words; names) make this book a highly useful resource for readers who may not necessarily engage in continuous reading but can jump to conclusions, consult sources, or search for specific ideas. The book is intended for specialists in many fields: linguistics, history, literature, and medieval or early modern performance studies. It is an invaluable tool for mapping the complexity of these technical terms, offering a constant caution against oversimplification and an exploration of the fascinating presence of Antiquity across languages and centuries.
Notes
[1]This assumption is in line with Florence Dupont’s work (for instance, L’Orateur sans visage: essai sur l’acteur romain et son masque, Paris, 2000, quoted p.28).
[2]Michel Espagne, ‘La notion de transfert culturel’, in Revue Sciences/Lettres, 1, 2013, quoted p.29.
[3] See e. g. the admiration expressed by Jean de Vignay in the Miroir historial (quoted p.300).
[4] Quoted p.257-259.
[5]We just mention “preuve en ait” (for “preuve en est”, p.502) which went unnoticed during the publishing process.