Thesis (Ph. D.)--University of Wisconsin--Madison, 1963. / Typescript. Vita. eContent provider-neutral record in process. Description based on print version record. Includes bibliographical references (leaves 346-352).

Thesis (Ph. D. in English)--Vanderbilt University, Aug. 2007. / Title from title screen. Includes bibliographical references.

Thesis (Ph.D.)--Ohio University, August, 2006. / Title from PDF t.p. Includes bibliographical references.

Participants in the critical enterprise of “Law and Literature” tend to center their arguments on the question of literature’s utility to the study and practice of law. I focus instead on the reciprocal corollary: how can an understanding of law influence a critical reading of literature? Taking cues from discussions in Renaissance studies of law and literature and drawing on my own legal training, I assert that transatlantic literary studies provides both a conceptual framework for positing a reciprocal relationship between law and literature and, in nineteenth century Scottish and American depictions of property and criminal law, a crucial test case for this exploration by uncovering new “legal fictions” within these texts. I begin my first chapter by situating my work within recent critical work in Law and Literature. While most scholarship in the “law in literature” subcategory since James Boyd White’s influential 1973 text The Legal Imagination has focused on how (and if) literary studies can help current and future legal practitioners through what Maria Aristodemou calls “instrumental” and “humanistic” mechanisms, recent work, particularly by a dedicated group of interdisciplinary scholars in Renaissance studies, has focused on the law’s benefit to literary studies in this field. I explore the critical mechanisms employed by these scholars as well as by scholars in nineteenth century literary studies such as Ian Ward. I then turn to transatlantic literary studies, arguing that the approaches outlined by Susan Manning, Joselyn Almeida, and others provide a framework that can give nineteenth-century literary studies a similar framework to that proposed by Aristodemou: an “instrumental” method of giving greater precision to discussions of how historical institutions and hierarchies are depicted in nineteenth century literature, and a “humanistic” method of extending beyond historicist approaches to see beyond the often artificial demarcations of literary period and genre by finding commonalities that transcend disciplinary and historical borders. I conclude this introduction by identifying the legal and literary parameters of my project in the legal-political tensions of late-eighteenth and early-nineteenth century Scotland and America. My second chapter focuses on property law and the question of inheritance, reading Walter Scott’s Rob Roy and The Bride of Lammermoor alongside Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The House of the Seven Gables to demonstrate how the narratives play with two dueling theories of inheritance law – meritocratic and feudal – and how those dueling legal theories impact the events of the tales themselves. After outlining tensions between older but still prevalent ideas of feudal succession and newer but admittedly flawed in execution notions of meritocratic land transfer, I explore how Scott’s and Hawthorne’s narratives demonstrate the inability of their characters to reconcile these notions. Both Rob Roy and The House of the Seven Gables seem to demonstrate the triumph of deserving but legally alienated protagonists over their titled foes; both novels, however, end with the reconciliation of all parties through ostensibly love-based weddings that perform the legal function of uniting competing land claims, thus providing a suspiciously easy resolution to the legal conflict at the heart of both stories. While reconciliation makes the legal controversies at the heart of these stories ultimately irrelevant, the legal nihilism of The Bride of Lammermoor takes the opposite tactic, demonstrating both the individual shortcomings of the Ashton and Ravenswood families and the systemic failure of Scottish property law’s feudalism to achieve equitable outcomes. I next turn to the question of insanity in Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart” and James Hogg’s “Strange Letter of a Lunatic,” arguing that both narratives complicate the legal definition of insanity by showing gaps between the legislative formulation and actual application to their fictional defendants. After developing the different viewpoints towards criminal culpability articulated by the American (but based on English law) and Scottish versions of the insanity defense, I turn first to Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart.” Poe’s narrator, I argue, deliberately develops a narrative that takes him outside the protections of the insanity defense, insisting on his own culpability despite – or perhaps because of – the implications for his own punishment. Meanwhile, Hogg’s narrative, both in its original draft form for Blackwood’s and its published version in Fraser’s, paints a different picture of a narrator who avoids criminal punishment but finds himself confined in asylum custody. These two areas of inheritance and insanity collide in my exploration of Robert Louis Stevenson’s Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and Frank Norris’s McTeague, where I illustrate the relationship between the urban demographics and zoning laws of both the real and fictional versions of London and San Francisco and the title characters’ mentally ill but probably not legally insane murderers. After demonstrating Stevenson’s and Norris’s link between psychology and the complex amalgamations of their fictional cityscapes, I demonstrate how these cityscapes also allow them to sidestep rather than embrace mental illness as an excuse for their murderous protagonists’ crimes, indicting the institutions at the center of their texts as equally divided and flawed.

Submitted by Ana Valéria de Jesus Moura (anavaleria_131@hotmail.com) on 2018-01-16T19:01:34Z No. of bitstreams: 1 DANIEL NICORY DO PRADO.pdf: 1026729 bytes, checksum: 76688c9b2086ace57e533faf769e73cc (MD5) / Approved for entry into archive by Ana Valéria de Jesus Moura (anavaleria_131@hotmail.com) on 2018-01-16T19:02:03Z (GMT) No. of bitstreams: 1 DANIEL NICORY DO PRADO.pdf: 1026729 bytes, checksum: 76688c9b2086ace57e533faf769e73cc (MD5) / Made available in DSpace on 2018-01-16T19:02:03Z (GMT). No. of bitstreams: 1 DANIEL NICORY DO PRADO.pdf: 1026729 bytes, checksum: 76688c9b2086ace57e533faf769e73cc (MD5) / O presente trabalho teve o objetivo de discutir a constituição do universo e a definição dos critérios de verdade da narrativa judicial. Adotando como marcos teórico filosofia aristotélica e as decorrentes reflexões sobre tempo e narrativa de Paul Ricouer e sobre ação comunicativa de Jürgen Habermas, iniciou-se uma revisão das teorias da ação, de base teleológica, da filosofia, as suas consequências para a construção da teoria do fato na ciência jurídica, e a passagem da ação à narração por meio da teoria dos atos de fala. Chegando à questão da narrativa, analisaram-se, a partir de Paul Ricouer, suas principais modalidades, a narrativa histórica e a ficção, sendo que a primeira apresenta uma pretensão de correspondência, verificada pelas provas fornecidas pelo historiador, e a segunda uma pretensão de credibilidade, verificada pela coerência narrativa. À primeira vista, a narrativa judicial seria enquadrada como forma de narrativa histórica, em face da evidente relação entre verdade-correspondência e justiça. No entanto, existem vários indicadores no sistema e na prática jurídica de que nem sempre se alcança a correspondência, mesmo quando não se trata de um problema de insuficiência cognitiva, mas de proibição jurídica de acesso aos elementos disponíveis. Isto é justificado, em parte, porque o processo judicial teria outros valores a preservar além da verdade, mas poderia também ser dito o contrário, que, nesses casos, de renúncia à correspondência, outro tipo de pretensão de validade (como a correção normativa ou o consenso) prevalece sobre a busca da correspondência. Portanto, pode-se concluir que a narrativa judicial é ficcional, mas, como a correspondência não pode ser completamente abandonada, trata-se de ficção baseada em fatos reais. A estrutura da narrativa judicial é binária, dividida em história do processo, narrada no modo mimético alto, dentro da qual se revela gradualmente a história do conflito, narrada nos modos mimético baixo ou irônico, em que o desfecho da primeira é simultaneamente o da segunda. Quanto ao narrador, a pluralidade de pontos de vista narrativos é a principal característica, e decorre do próprio sistema (princípio do contraditório) destinando-se a gerar uma incerteza provisória quanto à verdade, a ser superada com a decisão definitiva. O reconhecimento de que cada processo judicial é um pequeno universo ficcional tem por consequência a adoção da coerência, e não da correspondência, como critério de verdPoade. Por ser ficção baseada em fatos reais, a correspondência não é completamente abandonada, já que a coerência pode ser enganosa. A coerência externa pode gerar equívocos quando remete a uma narrativa familiar, no âmbito da tradição, mas que não reflete corretamente o caso em discussão; a coerência interna pode gerar equívocos quando há falso consenso entre as partes, ou não oposição deliberada de uma delas; quando uma narrativa é coerente por um critério e incoerente por outro, a correção do equívoco deve partir da verificação desta divergência até a decisão por um dos critérios; se uma narrativa é duplamente coerente, mas falsa, ou duplamente incoerente, mas verdadeira, os recursos narrativos disponíveis são insuficientes para a correção do problema. / This work intended to discuss how the universe of judicial narrative is constructed and which are its criteria of truth. Adopting Aristotle’s philosophy, and its further developments of the relations between time and narrative, by Paul Ricouer, and of communicative action, by Jürgen Habermas, as the main theoretical framework, it starts reviewing the teleological concept of action, its many philosophical theories, their consequences to the construction of fact as a legal concept, and then its further passage to the narrative theory using the theory of speech acts as a theoretical transition. Regarding narrative theory, Paul Ricouer’s work was used to distinguish the main narrative forms (historical and fictional), according to whom the first has a correspondence claim, verified by the evidence provided by the historian, while the second has a credibility claim, verified by its narrative coherence. At first, it seems evident that judicial narrative should be a form of historical narrative, because of the undeniable relationship between truth (as correspondence) and justice. Despite that, there are many indications, in legal practice, that correspondence is not always reached, not only because of a cognitive defect, but also because of a legal prohibition to access and evaluate the available data. It is justified, in part, by the thought that the Judicial System has other goals, besides truth-finding, but that can be phrased in a different way: when it is a case of abandonment of correspondence, other types of validity-claims (like normative correction or consensus) prevail over its search. So, it can be said that judicial narrative is fictional, but, since correspondence can’t be completely abandoned, it is fiction based on true facts. Judicial narrative’s structure is binary, divided in the trial story, told in the high mimetic mode, in which the conflict story, told in the low mimetic or the ironic mode, is gradually revealed, and the ending of the first is also the ending of the second. Regarding the narrators, the plurality of points of view is the most important aspect, which is a consequence of the system itself and destined to generate a provisional uncertainty about the truth, that the final decision will overcome. Recognizing each case file as a fictional universe means that coherence, and not correspondence, has to be adopted as the criterion of truth. On the other hand, since it is a true facts based fiction, correspondence can’t be completely abandoned, because coherence can be misleading. External coherence can be misleading when it evokes a familiar narrative, ingrained in the tradition, but that doesn’t reflect correctly the particular case. Internal coherence can be misleading when there is a false consensus between the parties, or a false confession by one of them; when a narrative is coherent by one measure and incoherent by another, the correction can come from a verification of this divergence and a decision for one of the criteria, but if a narrative is doubly coherent, but false, or doubly incoherent, but true, the narrative resources are insufficient to correct the problem.

Almost a full century separates Alice in Wonderland (1865) of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson(who will be referred by his pseudonym, Lewis Carroll) and the second, lengthier and more elaborate edition of Hans Kelsen’s Pure Theory of Law (1960; first edition published in 1934). And yet, it is possible to argue that the former anticipates and critically addresses many of the philosophical assumptions that underlie and are elemental to the argument of the latter. Both texts, with the illuminating differences that arise from their disparate genre, have as one of their key themes norms and their functioning. Wonderland, as Alice soon finds out, is a world beset by rules of all kinds: from the etiquette rituals of the mad tea-party to the changing setting for the croquet game to the procedural insanity of the trial with which the novel ends. Pure Theory of Law, as Kelsen emphatically stresses, has the Grundnorm as the cornerstone upon which the whole theoretical edifice rests (see Green, 2003; Posner, 2005).This paper discusses some of the assumptions underlying Kelsen’s argument as an instance of the modern worldview that Lewis satirically scrutinizes. The first section («Sleepy and stupid») discusses Lewis’ critique of the idea that, to correctly apprehend an object (in the case of Kelsen’s study, law), one has to free it from its alien elements. The second section («Do bats eat cats?») discusses the notion of systemic coherence and its impact on modern ways of thinking about truth, law and society. The third section («Off with their heads!») explores the connections between readings of systems as neutral entities and the perpetuation of political power. The fourth and final section («Important, Unimportant») explains the sense in which a «critical anticipation» is both possible and useful to discuss the philosophical assumptions structuring some positivist arguments. It also discusses the reasons for choosing to focus on Kelsen’s work, rather than on that of Lewis’ contemporary John Austin, whose The Province of Jurisprudence Determined (published in 1832) remains influential in legal debates today. / Casi un siglo entero separa a Alicia en el país de las Maravillas (1865) de Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (a quien nos referiremos por su seudónimo, Lewis Carroll) y a la segunda, más larga y más elaborada edición de la Teoría pura del derecho (1960) de Hans Kelsen —cuya primera edición fue publicada en 1934—. Y, sin embargo, es posible argumentar que la primera obra anticipa y trata en forma crítica a muchos de los supuestos filosóficos que fundamentan y son elementales en los razonamientos sobre la última. Ambos textos, con las diferencias iluminadoras que surgen de sus géneros dispares, tienen como uno de sus temas clave las normas y su funcionamiento. El país de las maravillas, como Alicia pronto descubre, es un mundo sitiado por regulaciones de todo tipo: desde los rituales de etiqueta de la merienda de locos hasta los arreglos cambiantes para el juego de croquet y la insensatez procesal del juicio con el que termina la novela. La Teoría Pura del derecho, como enfáticamente recalca Kelsen, tiene a la Grundnorm (norma fundamental) como la piedra angular sobre la que reside todo el edificio teórico (véanse Green, 2003; Posner, 2005).Este trabajo discute algunos de los supuestos en los que se basa el razonamiento de Kelsen como un ejemplo de la moderna visión del mundo a la que satíricamente analiza Carroll. La primera sección («Somnolienta y atontada») discute la crítica de Carroll a la idea de que, para comprender un objeto (en el caso del estudio de Kelsen, el derecho), uno tiene que liberarlo de sus elementos ajenos. La segunda sección («¿Comen murciélagos los gatos?») discute la noción de coherencia sistémica y su impacto sobre las formas modernas de pensamiento sobre la verdad, el derecho y la sociedad. La tercera sección («¡Que les corten la cabeza!») explora las conexiones entre las lecturas de sistemas como entidades neutrales y la perpetuación del poder político. La cuarta y última sección («Importante, No importante») explica el sentido en el que una «anticipación crítica» es tanto posible como útil para discutir los supuestos filosóficos que estructuran algunos argumentos positivistas. Esta sección también discute las razones para elegir concentrarse en el trabajo de Kelsen, más que en el del contemporáneo de Carroll John Austin, cuya obra La provincia de la jurisprudencia determinada (publicada en 1832) continúa influyendo hoy en los debates legales.

The topic of the thesis is the connection of the renowned bard and writer William Shakespeare with the Law. The thesis points out some of the most interesting legal remarks, which can be found during the course of the study of the Shakespeare's texts. The aim of the thesis is to broaden the knowledge of the depth of Shakespeare's plays, romances and sonnets and their legal connotation that never ceases to amaze both the general public, and the readers of legal education. The thesis is prefaced by the treatise regarding the connection of the law with the literature through the Law and Literature movement. The following chapter notes reasons why is it appropriate to study literary texts for the practice of legal professions, namely in the connection to the courts' decisions. Decisions of the US Supreme Court and the Czech Constitutional Court are mentioned in the thesis. In the following lines the author notes the issues one might face while translating the Shakespeare's remarks, especially those of legal connotation ; and mentions some of Shakespeare's law-related remarks. A notable portion of the thesis deals with three plays and their law-related contents. In the passage regarding the comedy Measure for Measure, Shakespeare's interest in a topic that is still actual nowadays is pointed out - the...

This thesis evaluates how effectively the trilogy's laws and law enforcers further the ends of the fictional laws. The study examines the trilogy's law enforcers' responses to Snopes violations and bendings of the laws to evaluate the laws and their enforcers. The enforcers' responses to Snopes wrongs make clear how well the laws are written. These responses also reveal how well the enforcers themselves are able to achieve the objectives of the laws. It is argued in the thesis that although the laws are effectively written, the law enforcers fail to enforce the laws and, consequently, fail to achieve the laws' ends. It is also shown that the enforcers invariably harm innocent persons when they fail to enforce the law.

For the last forty years, Jane Eyre criticism has understandably focused on Bertha Mason Rochester as a marginalized, abused, and silenced mixed-race woman. Although Jane's childhood friend Helen Burns is a very different and much less controversial character, she and Bertha suffer similar deaths from the culpable neglect of their guardians. Both women serve as the impetus of a bystander's dilemma: the perennial question of whether a person is obligated to protect another's life or dignity at the risk of his or her own. Because contemporary law imposed no duty to rescue upon bystanders, this paper uses the commentary of Victorian legal theorist John Austin to create a standard against which to judge the ethical merit of the choices made by bystanders throughout the novel. Maria Temple, superintendent of Lowood, is a bystander to the fatal abuse heaped upon her students; she has the power to expose the school's brutal conditions, but chooses to remain silent so that she can keep her job and her limited power. Her choice, while practical, makes her complicit in Helen's death. When Jane becomes bystander to Bertha's dangerously negligent captivity, she chooses to flee Thornfield rather than intervene. Though many critics have decried her selfishness, Jane makes a practical and ethical choice because she has so little chance of helping Bertha and so much to lose in the attempt. Just as Miss Temple is able to protect Jane because of her self-serving decisions, Jane in turn is able to protect Adèle. Yet all these successes are predicated upon earlier neglect of persons unable to protect themselves, as Helen and Bertha remind us. There is no comfortable solution to the bystander's dilemma.

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