Programa em Teoria da Literatura

This paper discusses "The Murder of Gonzago" and the duel scene having in mind formal judicial procedures with which a criminal’s guilt is uncovered. It will be argued that Hamlet’s theatre play may be compared to a technical truth test such as that effected by the presentation of torture objects before the procedure takes place. The duel scene should equally be read having in mind methods such as the medieval ordeal. I will maintain that Hamlet’s mousetrap and the duel are symmetrical revenge plots, two modes of testing that allow us to contradict the notion that Hamlet is deflecting a course of action.

In this paper I will claim that the inability to live with uncertainty plays a pivotal role in the decision to use truth tests, such as the medieval judicial ordeal and torture. Notice how torture tends to (re)appear at times when we are confronted with persons who seem to have unusual abilities to hide themselves, since it gives the illusion of going inside people’s minds through an evaluation of visible bodily signs. I would like to claim that these tests are frequently used in cases where, to use Stanley Cavell’s words, we fail to acknowledge the other person. Inquisitorial torture was applied to reach a verdict on cases of heresy or witchery, heretics and witches being the “type of people” who were supposedly masters in concealing their true nature. These tests  have been used to conceal a form of anxiety, which tends to appear in situations of uncertainty.

"My paper deals with the concept of body punishment in both inquisitorial and contemporary torture. My claim is that torture may be viewed as a truth test, for proponents of torture generally assume there are hidden secrets in the human body which can be put to proof if submitted to pain. In other words, torture is a truth-searching device based on bodily proof.
I will attempt to show there is one relevant difference between inquisitorial and contemporary torture, though: nowadays torturers tend to avoid leaving visible traces on the body. This methodology has profound implications for the victims, who are unable to show physical evidences of their ordeal, while making the task of humanitarian organizations more difficult. My point is the social recognition of torture when there are no obvious physical traces requires a new understanding of the body and of the concept of pain as torture is being used as a different kind of punishment, one leaving unforgettable memories, but not permanent physical wounds. The victim is thus left with a body divided: the corporeality which perjures itself by providing no testimony of the events, and the remembered body, the real body, the one needing to be acknowledged. The acknowledgement involves therefore not only the gathering empirical data, but the employment of sensibility, which is to play a pivotal role in the inquiries."

Three judicial processes will be discussed in this paper: the use of an ordeal in the divorce between Queen Teutberga and King Lothair II, in Lotharingia, in 858; the importance of the polygraph in the 1991 investigation of the American spy Aldrich Ames’s; and the arrest of the Portuguese humanist Damião de Góis, by the Inquisition, in 1571. Each case will be described separately, but I will try to demonstrate that there are common features between them.
I will argue that ordeals and polygraphs are instruments used to prove the truth through an interpretation of bodily signs. In other words, that they are both truth-searching devices based on bodily proof. At the same time, torture was used in most European countries, from the 12th century to the 18th, as a way to produce confessions. Truth was already established, but it was the torturer’s task to bring a confession to light. Thus, my argument is that ordeals, polygraphs and torture may be considered truth tests, which select one interpretation among many possible interpretations, upon which they then confer an over-determining role.

My paper will attempt to demonstrate that there are some features common to ordeals, polygraphs and torture. All may be considered truth tests, for it is generally assumed that there are hidden secrets in the human body which can be put to proof through the examination of a body. In other words, they are truth-searching devices based on bodily proof.
In ordeals, for example, the jury evaluates if a burned hand has gotten better, or if the body’s height has experienced any changes during the process. In polygraphs the examiner has to decide if the examinee’s physiological signs (respiration, sweating, and blood pressure) change. Torture, instead, tests its own method: when the ordeal begins, the truth has already been established, and it is the torturer’s task to bring a confession to light.  If the person under torture does not confess, the torturer does not doubt his own beliefs, but the method itself and his own performance. 
This involves not only empirical knowledge, but also a sensibility that also plays a pivotal role in ordeals and polygraph tests. I would thus like to claim that the discovery of truth in these three kinds of test is the product of a certain type of sensibility that examiners must possess and which determines the way in which tests themselves are conducted. I will also claim that all these tests select one interpretation among many possible interpretations, upon which they then confer an over-determining role.

One way to describe modes of proof such as the polygraph, as well as certain literary criticism, is to consider that they differ from other ways of reading the world in their claim to limit interpretation, as if they wished to return to a time and a place in which the concept was not generalized. This article is an attempt to reflect on such impulse to interpret and the need some interpreters feel to restrain it. I argue that both literary criticism and the polygraph are technical forms of interpretation, which require specific skills and well-trained interpreters. However, treating these forms of proof as homologous implies that both require the capacity to make subjective choices and, in the case of the polygraph, to deliberate on the subject’s physical behavior.

This paper discusses the legend of St Dominic’s miracles, according to which the bonfires at Fanjeaux and Montreal, in the early 13th century, were incapable of burning the treaty St Dominic had written against the Cathars. I will attempt to show that this episode is an ordeal by fire, and as such was ruled by the same requirements of proof used in judicial processes. After arguing this point, I will then tackle the differences and similarities between ordeals and literary criticism, as I see them.

I would like to begin by pointing out what I consider to be the similarities between ordeals and literary interpretation as interpretative practices. We have seen that in ordeals it was necessary to establish what counted as proof, that there was a strict ritual that needed to be followed, involving a group of people with the authority to validate what they considered to be the correct interpretation, as well as give a final verdict.

In literary criticism the need to validate the proof is also relevant, and this act of stipulation is already an interpretative process. Not unlike what happened in ordeals, textual interpretation requires a group of conditions prior to the act of interpreting, and those conditions are important in determining the way people read. These may include the academic or sociopolitical context or a philosophical or theoretical affiliation, which constrain the choices and options of the critic.
Although in literary criticism the selection of proof is not usually settled a priori and relies on the act of reading, the critic’s options are already always present in the choice of a set of evidence protocols, it determines the methodology she opts for and, sometimes, her conclusions.

From this point of view, one might say that both the textual evidence highlighted by the critic and burnt arms, or unburnt books in ordeals are primary forms of proof, used by the literary critic and the judge, respectively, to prove their expectations.
During the twentieth century, some critical trends firmly assumed that if they were able to establish and follow a certain method of textual analysis they would stand a better chance of reaching true, or valid, criticism – Formalism, Semiotics and New Criticism are just some of the movements that come to mind. As a result, this often meant that those who were privy to the chosen method could anticipate the analysis that would be produced and sometimes even the critic’s conclusions. At the same time, it should be noted that even in cases where the use of a method, in the formal sense of the term, does not seem to be important, as, for example, in Cultural Studies, it is often the case that a cluster of concerns contrains what one chooses as evidence.


In literary criticism, the evidence pointed out by one author is used as a starting point for discussion by other authors, thus allowing critical discourse to continue endlessly. The critical text is supposed to be read, interpreted and discussed, while theory aimed at providing a unequivocal and non-interpretable verdict. Literary criticism generally aims at describing correctly a certain poem or narrative, to find a suitable interpretation of a text, but language is no longer believed to be the carrier of truth.
This is also one of the main differences between law and literature: while the law is expected to provide a true verdict, literary criticism is supposed to see in a given narrative what others failed to describe. However, both activities share forms of proof and methods and both depend on authorities on the subject. This means that a judicial mode of proof, like the ordeal, and literary criticism may be thought of as activities with similar traits, which rely on the submission of adequate evidence and on a valid justification of such evidence.

Knowing how to identify someone’s murderer, how to distinguish a credible witness, whether one is being betrayed, or try to avoid being exposed, are questions that compel the main characters in Hamlet. This essay explains The Murder of Gonzago and the duel scene having in mind formal judicial procedures with which a criminal’s guilt is uncovered. It argues that Hamlet’s dumb show may be compared to a technical truth test such as that effected by the presentation of torture objects before the procedure takes place. The duel scene should also be read having in mind judicial methods such as the medieval ordeal. Though Hamlet’s mousetrap and the duel may be perceived as symmetrical revenge plots, the swordfight has a cryptic nature. The duel seems, thus, to serve the purpose of describing contradictory views on justice and on divine providence, purposefully failing to provide the audience to an answer for the question: “Who’s there?” (I, I, 1).

Teatro Praga's (a Portuguese theatre company) adaptations of A Midsummer Night's Dream and The Tempest omit what is usually considered crucial to a Shakespearean adaptation by giving primacy to neither text nor plot, nor to a stage design that might highlight the skill and presence of the actors, a decision arguably related to what the company perceives as a type of imprisonment, that of the lines themselves and of the tradition in which these canonical plays have been staged. Such fatigue with a certain way of dealing with Shakespeare is deliberately portrayed and places each production in a space in-between, as it were, which might be described as intercultural. " Inter, " as the OED clarifies, means something " among, amid, in between, in the midst. " Each of Teatro Praga's Shakespearean adaptations, seems to exist in this " in-between " space, in the sense that they are named after Shakespeare, but are mediated by a combination of subsequent innovations. Shakespeare then emerges, or exists, in the interval between his own plays and the way they have been discussed, quoted, and misquoted across time, shaping the identities of those trying to perform his works and those observing its re-enactments on stage while being shaped himself. The fact that these adaptations only use Shakespeare's words from time to time leads critics to consider that Teatro Praga is working against Shakespeare (or, to admirers of Henry Purcell, against his compositions). This process, however, reframes Shakespeare's intercultural legacy and, thus, reinforces its appeal.

Teatro Praga’s (a Portuguese theatre company) adaptations of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and The Tempest omit what is usually considered crucial to a Shakespearean adaptation by giving primacy to neither text nor plot, nor to a stage design that might highlight the skill and presence of the actors, a decision arguably related to what the company perceives as a type of imprisonment, that of the lines themselves and of the tradition in which these canonical plays have been staged. Such fatigue with a certain way of dealing with Shakespeare is deliberately portrayed and places each production in a space in-between, as it were, which might be described as intercultural. “Inter,” as the OED clarifies, means something “among, amid, in between, in the midst.” Each of Teatro Praga’s Shakespearean adaptations, seems to exist in this “in-between” space, in the sense that they are named after Shakespeare, but are mediated by a combination of subsequent innovations. Shakespeare then emerges, or e...