Josephus in the hands of Sir Roger L’Estrange

Sir Roger L’Estrange is probably mainly remembered today for his activities as a journalist and violent pamphleteer for the court during the reign of Charles II.[1]  As with others of Charles’ partisans, there was a strong element of ingratitude in all this.  L’Estrange had fought for Charles I in the civil war, but had received a pardon in 1653 from Oliver Cromwell, after which he had prospered under the commonwealth.  He was made surveyor of the press by the king in 1662, although the king did not see any reason to pay him a salary.

But how many of us are aware that this controversial figure was also a translator, and produced a translation of the works of Josephus?

A contemporary portrait of Sir Roger L’Estrange.

Yet so it is; the work appeared in 1702.  Even more interestingly, he became involved in a copyright dispute because of it!

The facts may be found in an old article by A.W. Pollard, “Copyright in Josephus”, in The Library 30 (1917), p.173-6.  Curiously Oxford University Press modestly ask for $44 in return for 24 hours access to this 101-year old item, here.

In 1609 a certain Thomas Lodge, “Doctor of Physick”, produced a translation  of The famous and memorable works of Josephus, based on the Latin and French.  This went through a number of editions, and a new edition appeared in 1676, revised against the French translation of Arnauld d’Andilly.

In 1693 a bookseller named Richard Sare advertised a new translation, by none other than Sir Roger L’Estrange.  On the 3rd April a bill appeared, signed by a number of booksellers, threatening legal action!

it being the Resolution of the Proprietors of the present English Copy, to use all lawful Means to vindicate their Right, and recover Satisfaction for the Damages they shall sustain by this New Undertaking; they and their Predecessors having been in just and quiet Possession of the same for near One Hundred Years, and having expended above Eight Hundred Pounds in amending their Translation by a Learned and Ingenious Hand, and in Printing a large Impression newly finish’d, now upon their hands.

Sare issued his own bill the next day, stating his intention to go on with it and disparaging the Lodge translation as “senseless”.

The new edition of Lodge did really exist, and really did appear in 1693, printed by Abel Roper, one of the signatories of the first bill.

The L’Estrange translation did not appear until nine years later, with the preface dated 28th January 1702, only a couple of years before L’Estrange’s death.  By that time the Glorious Revolution of William and Mary had come and gone.  The translator must have seemed like a ghostly figure from another age, as of course he was.

Pollard attributes the delay to bribery.  He points out that the owners of the Lodge translation had already made a substantial investment, even in their own terms, and paying off Sare or L’Estrange would have been worthwhile.  The claim to perpetual copyright in the translation is in keeping with the strange ideas of that age, and indeed was recognised by the old Common Law.  This somewhat vague right was reinforced, as was thought, by an Act of Queen Anne in 1710, giving copyright of 21 years exclusively to the publisher.

But what happened when the Queen Anne act expired?  There was a lawsuit, of course.  The essayist Augustine Birrell in “Authors in Court”[2], whom it is always a pleasure to read, recounts the matter.

These proceedings found their way, as all decent proceedings do, to the House of Lords — farther than which you cannot go, though ever so minded. It was now high time to settle this question, and their lordships accordingly, as was their proud practice in great cases, summoned the judges of the land before their bar, and put to them five carefully-worded questions, all going to the points — what was the old Common Law right, and has it survived the statute? Eleven judges attended, heard the questions, bowed and retired to consider their answers.  On the fifteenth of February, 1774, they reappeared, and it being announced that they differed, instead of being locked up without meat, drink, or firing until they agreed, they were requested to deliver their opinions with their reasons, which they straightway proceeded to do. The result may be stated with tolerable accuracy thus : by ten to one they were of opinion that the old Common Law recognised perpetual copyright. By six to five they were of opinion that the statute of Queen Anne had destroyed this right. The House of Lords adopted the opinion of the majority, reversed the decree of the Court below, and thus Thomson’s Seasonsbecame your Seasons, my Seasons, anybody’s Seasons.

Big money rested on all this.  Thomson the poet had sold his right for three of the Seasons to a certain Millar for a £242.  When Millar died in 1729, after selling the work for more than 40 years, his heirs sold the Seasons to a certain Beckett for £505.  Beckett himself sold the item also for more than 40 years.

All the same, claiming copyright on any English translation of an ancient author required quite a bit of impudence.

What did Sir Roger L’Estrange get for his translation?  For his folio volume of 1,130 pages, he received £300, plus a sixth part of the gross sales, plus 25 ordinary copies and 25 on royal paper.  The ordinary copies were priced at 25s, and the royal paper copies at  45s.  The edition was obviously a success, for a new edition in three volumes was accidentally destroyed in 1712 by a fire in the printer’s office.  There seem to have been reprints well into the 19th century.

I have not been able to locate a copy of L’Estrange’s work online.  It wouldn’t meet modern standards, I am sure.  But the tale is an interesting corner of the history of literature.

  1. [1]A short biography is here.
  2. [2]Res Judicatae, 1892, p.187, Archive.org here.

Ps.Chrysostom, De Susanna Sermo – Coptic version translated by Anthony Alcock

Anthony Alcock continues to turn Coptic texts into English.  His latest contribution to us all is a translation of the Coptic version of pseudo-Chrysostom, De Susanna Sermo, a homily on the apocryphal book of Susanna:

For comparison, a draft translation of the original Greek text (PG 56: 589-594, CPG 4567) by “K.P.” is online at Academic here.

Both are useful.  Thank you!

From my diary

The coughs and colds and tummy bugs of winter have arrived, and I’ve had other things on my mind for the last three weeks.  But there are a few updates.

I’ve been updating my Mithras site with a few extra photographs found online.  Every so often I see one, sometimes on Twitter, and track down the origins of it.  The collection of labelled photographs on my siteis indeed proving useful, I discover, as I hoped; some books on Google Books are including it in their bibliography.

Some more pages of the Vita Compilata of Nicholas of Myra have arrived from the translator, but there’s a long way to go as yet.  The translator is a monk, with no mains power, so this naturally limits what he can do.  But it will be good to have this work in English.

Anthony Alcock has emailed me another translation from Coptic this evening – thank you – which I will upload tomorrow (I think).  It is very good that he is working away on this, and making the first widely available translations from Coptic.

I must get back to work on translating Eutychius.  Sadly my Saturdays are being called on for other purposes at the moment.

Update on my book, Origen’s Homilies on Ezekiel

Long term readers may remember that, back in 2014, my company published a rather splendid item in book form, Mischa Hooker’s marvellous translation of Origen’s Homilies on Ezekiel, including the catena fragments, with facing Greek text; some 700+ pages of it.  This was the second volume in the Ancient Texts in Translation series, from Chieftain Publishing.  The hardback was very splendid; and the paperback is a solid item too.

Hard sell:  The book is available still on Amazon.com in hardback ($80) and paperback ($45); and Amazon.co.uk in hardback (£50) and paperback (£30).  Amazon don’t keep a lot of stock, naturally, but you can order any of these as all are in print.  Lead time is probably about a week when out of stock.  Please get your university library to buy it!

The idea behind creating paper books was always to sell enough copies to justify commissioning more academic translations, ideally to university libraries.  Once sales dried up, the book would be released onto the web in the public domain.  This was (and is still) always the intention.

It’s interesting to find that the book is turning out to be something of a slow burner.  Initial sales were not impressive.  Originally no English translation existed of these homilies.  But during the project, the excellent Thomas P. Scheck released one in the well-known Ancient Christian Writers series; and this naturally stole our thunder somewhat.  However he only included a translation of the 14 homilies from Latin, without the original language or the fragments.  Dr Hooker did take account of the Scheck version, which appeared when ours was almost complete.

But I find that the book has continued to sell!  In fact I was surprised to find that it made enough money last year, after three years, to justify keeping it in print for another year.  This was unexpected.

Today I learn that a new review of it has appeared, by Peter W. Martens, in the Society for Biblical Literature’s journal, the Review of Biblical Literature, and published 3rd Jan. 2018.  The review is accessible to SBL members here.

In fact this is the third review that has appeared (to my knowledge), the others being by:

  • Angela R. Christman, in: Journal of Theological Studies 68 (2017), 351-3 (see abstract).
  • L. Vianès, in: Revue de philologie, de littérature et d’histoire anciennes 88 (2014), 180-2.

I must confess to being encouraged by these.  With luck they will result in further sales.  The more copies that sell, the more I might feel inclined to do it again.  I do not believe that the Origen volume will ever recover the investment of money and time that I put into it (to say nothing of others); but if it comes anywhere near doing so, then that is all money to put into further projects.

But I still intend to release the results online.  I nearly did so this Christmas.  Maybe at the end of the year.

The “Christianos” graffito from Pompeii

The buried Roman city of Pompeii was rediscovered in 1748, and excavations for antiquities have continued ever since.  Modern archaeological methods only originate around 1880 with Flinders Petrie in Egypt; so a great deal of work was done under conditions that all of us today would lament.  Sometimes this means that we cannot be certain of what was truly found.

I read in the last few weeks an article by Wayment and Grey in the JJMJS, revisiting the primary evidence for a famous but largely forgotten find; that of a graffito which mentions the Christians.[1]  The original discovery and publication were such a mess that the item has largely been forgotten or dismissed as imaginary.[2]  The authors go back to the sources, to try to shake out what, if anything, can certainly be said.  It seems to me that they do a fine job.

The actual sequence of events seems to have been as follows.

In 1862 the Neapolitan excavator Giuseppe Fiorelli and his team excavated a large building in the less-reputable side of Pompeii, opposite one of the larger brothels.[3]  It had two entrances, and was described as a caupona, an inn.  In the atrium he found a bit of graffiti, drawn in charcoal on a wall.  This apparently included the word “Christianos”, on the basis of which Fiorelli grandly named the building the hospitium Christianos, the hotel of the Christians.

Before it was completely destroyed, another Neapolitan scholar, Giulio Minervini, a few days after the find,

“warned of the finding, rushed to Pompeii and . . . with diligent care and without any concern to read a meaning rather than another, sketched the signs appearing on the wall.”

Shortly afterwards a German scholar, Alfred Kiessling, also visited the site and transcribed what he could see.  He also published the existence of the find, and that it had already disappeared.

Two years later in 1864 G.B. de Rossi visited the site and confirmed that the graffito was not now to be seen.  But he obtained from the lax Fiorelli a statement of what the inscription had said when he saw it, and also a copy of Minervini’s sketch of the item, and Kiessling’s.  He published what he had, in a not too coherent manner.[4]

The formal edition of the graffito was printed in the Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (CIL IV. 679).  Unfortunately this was rather a mess, based on the sketch by Kiessling, who saw it only when it was on the point of disappearing, and containing features not found in any of the sketches.

The end result was three transcriptions, plus an edition, all differing very significantly and some not even containing “christianos”.

Furthermore anybody who has looked at ancient graffiti even a little – or even damaged painted texts like those in the Mithraeum of Santa Prisca – will be very well aware of how difficult it is to read them, and how subjective the readings tend to be.

Finally, and exasperatingly, there were not lacking those fools who, based on this, made up entirely imaginary “pious” fairy-tales about a “hotel of the Christians”, a neighbouring Jewish hotel, the presence of St Peter and St Paul, and every element of hagiographical invention.  There are various “cross” items in Pompeii, which have been seen as evidence of a Christian presence, without any adequate justification; and likewise the mysterious ROTAS square, of which the same can be said.  There are certainly people capable of seeing evidence of Christians in contexts which actually do not support them.  Older Italian literature – and much of the literature on this item is Italian, and also difficult to access – is particularly prone to this kind of excess, in my experience.

In the circumstances it seems entirely natural to consign so dubious an item to obscurity.

The charm of the Wayment and Grey article is to sweep all this dross out of the way.  Instead they try to locate the original sketches, and then to do some real, modern archaeology to determine precisely what the building actually could, or could not, tell us, about its function.

The results are really very interesting; although of course we must see what the specialists think of this.

The first element in this was to place the materials in due order.

Wayment and Grey give the Minervini sketch as follows:

The Kiessling version, after a few days, they give as this, only covering the last two lines:

Seen in this order, it is evident that the rain has washed away the C of Christianos, and part of the S, creating I.  Most of the other differences are likewise explicable as the effect of weathering; although not the mysterious appearance of the 8X at bottom left, which Kiessling could see but Minervini did not.

In 1962 Guarducci attempted to clarify the meaning of the inscription.[5]:

BOVIOS AUDI(T) CHRISTIANOS | SEVOS O[S]ORES
Bovio is listening to the Christians, cruel haters.

With “sevos” read as “saevos”. The name Bovius is rare but attested.  The graffito then becomes a jeer, of a kind not unfamiliar to us all.

The authors go on to offer a fresh critical edition of the material; and also to investigate the house, which they find unsurprisingly to be a dodgy inn with a room also equipped for prostitution with a stone bed.  All this is valuable, and I can only refer the reader to it.

Is the inscription genuine?  I think we can be sure  that it did exist!

But did it really read “CHRISTIANOS”?  In my immensely unqualified opinion, there seems no good reason to suppose otherwise.  Three separate and reputable people saw it (and the CIL editor did not); and the differences in their transcriptions may be a consequence of weathering as the graffito decayed in the Neapolitan rain.

What can be deduce from this?  Well, not that much.  It means only that somebody in the area had something to say about the Christians, very shortly before ash buried the city of Pompeii.  Beyond that … it is quite hard to be sure.  But no harder than with many other written items, we should add.

But the wise man will await the verdict of the specialist.  All the same, the article is a nice piece of work, which gives us back something lost in confusion.  It also highlights how costly sloppy archaeology can be.

  1. [1]Thomas Wayment & Matthew J. Grey, “Jesus Followers in Pompeii: The Christianos Graffito and the ‘Hotel of the Christians’ Reconsidered”, in: Journal of the Jesus Movement in Its Jewish Setting 2, 2015, 102-146.  Online here. (PDF)
  2. [2]For instance Eric Moorman, “Christians and Jews at Pompeii in late nineteenth century fiction”, in Hales &c, Pompeii in the Public Imagination from Its Rediscovery to Today, Oxford (2011), p.171 f., here, states (probably correctly) that “most historians and archaeologists today agree that the ‘evidence’ for Christians is dubious to say the least”.
  3. [3]Region VII, Insula 11.
  4. [4]G.B. de Rossi, “Una memoria dei Cristiani in Pompei”, in: Bulletino di Archeologia Cristiana 2 (1864), p.69-72.  Online here.
  5. [5]M. Guarducci, “La più antica iscrizione del nome dei Cristiani”, in: Romische Quartalschrift, 57 (1962), pp. 116-125.

The Annals of Eutychius of Alexandria (10th c. AD) – chapter 6 – part 1

Let’s return to translating the history composed in Arabic in the 10th century AD by Eutychius, or Sa`id ibn Bitriq, the Melkite Patriarch of Alexandria.  Last time we finished off chapter 7.  I seem to be working backwards through the intensely tedious rewriting of Old Testament narratives; because the further we go back, the less historical value Eutychius has. So now we reach chapter 6  It’s fun to try to recognise the bible characters in the unfamiliar Arabic names!  But this section is pretty much straight out of the OT.

1. After him his son Ukhuziyā reigned in Samaria for two years.  This took place in the nineteenth year of the reign of Yūshāfāt, king of Judah (1).  His conduct was as evil as that of his father and he was devoted to the worship of idols under the guidance of his mother Izbil, who had killed Nābūthā.  Ukhuziyā, king of Israel, fell seriously ill.  He feared for his life and sent a messenger to the priests of the idols, to ask them whether he would be cured of his illness or not.  On the way, the messenger came upon the prophet Iliyā.  The prophet Iliyā said to the messenger:  ‘Say to the king: “You will die.”‘  The messenger returned to the king and informed him [of what had happened].  Then the king told him:  “Describe the man who met you”.  He replied:  “He was a thick-haired man and wore a tight leather belt around his waist”  The king said: “It is the prophet Iliyā”.  He then sent one of his commanders to him with fifty men.  Iliyā was sitting on the top of Mount al-Karmil.  The commander told him: “O prophet of God, come down because the king is calling you”.  Iliyā replied: “If I am the prophet of God, may a fire come down from heaven to devour you and those who are with you”.  A fire came down and devoured them.  Then the king sent another commander with fifty men. He said: “O prophet of God, come down, because the king is calling you”.  Iliyā replied: “If I am the prophet of God, may a fire come down from heaven to devour you and those who are with you.”  And in fact it happened just like that.  Then [the king] sent a third commander with fifty men who spoke to him like the first two spoke to him, and he and those who were with him suffered the same fate.  Finally the king himself went to him and Iliyā came down to him and said: “You will not heal from your sickness, but you will die because you have worshiped idols and for your bad conduct in the presence of God, powerful and exalted”.  In the days of Ukhuziyā, king of Israel, and Yūshāfāt, king of Judah, Iliyā was raised to heaven.  Ukhuziyā, king of Israel, died of his illness and was buried with his father.

2. After him his brother Yūrām, son of Akhāb, reigned over the children of Israel, in Samaria, for twelve years.  This took place in the twenty-second year of the reign of Yūshāfāt, king of Judah.  The Ammonites and the Amalekites went out against Yūshāfāt, king of Judah with a great army, and Yūshāfāt was afraid of them.  There was a great outcry at night among the soldiers of ‘Ammān and’ Amāliq, and they killed each other, while the survivors fled before Yūshāfāt.  Yūshāfāt’s men set about ransacking their camps, tents and household goods for three days.  Then Yūshāfāt returned to Ūrashalīm.  Later the king of Moab moved against Yūrām, king of Israel.  Yūrām sent to seek help from Yūshāfāt, king of Judah, against the king of Moab.  He also sent for help from the king of the Rūm who was then in ash-Sharāh[1].  The three kings joined forces and went out against the king of Moab, taking the desert road in order to take him from behind.  They walked in the desert for seven days.  They missed the drinking water and so risked dying of thirst.  The prophet Elisha was there with them, telling them:   “Tomorrow these valleys will be filled with streams and God will give you the victory over your enemy”.  It happened as the prophet had said.  God gave them victory over the enemy and made a great slaughter of the men of the king of Moab.  Seeing that he was defeated, the king of Moab entered the fortified tower, took his firstborn and slaughtered him on the walls of Moab, offering him as a burnt offering.  The Israelites were terrified before such a scene, they stopped fighting against him and withdrew.  Yūshāfāt, king of Judah, died and was buried in the city of David.

  1. [1]Edom, rather than Rome!

The “Apotelesmata” of Apollonius of Tyana – now online in English

Anthony Alcock has sent in a translation of a curious anonymous Greek text in 8 chapters, concerning the Apotelemata (Talismans) of Apollonius of Tyana.  The content is astrological, concerned with names and words.

The work appears in medieval Greek astrological manuscripts, but also in a Syriac version as an appendix to the gnostic apocryphal Testament of Adam, itself perhaps dating from the 2-5th centuries AD.  There are also Armenian versions of part of it, themselves clearly translated from an unknown Arabic text.[1]

A Greek text was printed with Latin translation by Francois Nau in the Patrologia Syriaca 1, pp. 1362-1425, back in 1907, and another by Franz Boll in Codicum Astrologorum Graecorum 7: Codices Germanici, p.174-181, in 1908.

The translation is here:

I was able to find some discussion of this work in an article by Christopher P. Jones, “Apollonius of Tyana in Late Antiquity”, in: S.F. Johnson, Greek Literature in Late Antiquity: Dynamism, Didacticism, Classicism, 2016, p.57 f. The article is online here.

Jones writes (paragraphing mine):

“… Boll thought the work an ‘impudent fiction’ composed shortly before Eusebius’ Reply to Hierocles, while Nau was inclined to defend it as genuine; the obviously later ingredients, such as the reference to a church built by Apollonius in Tyana, he explained as later interpolations. The work cannot be by Apollonius and, as Speyer has noted, must be much later than Boll supposed, though it is still an interesting document deserving of consideration here. …

The writer reveals his Christianity at every point, both in his subject-matter and in his choice of words. He thinks that Apollonius was born early enough to predict the birth of Christ, and even (if the obvious interpretation is correct) that he founded a church in Tyana.

As for language, ναός denoting a Christian church is first apparently found in Eusebius, and προσκυνητός seems almost entirely a Christian usage. For στοιχειόω in the sense of ‘enchant’, ‘perform talismanic operations upon’, Sophocles’ Greek Lexicon of the Roman and Byzantine Periods cites no example before Theophanes Continuatus (not earlier than the ninth century).

A span of 800–1200 is presumably about right for the composition of the work. It may be relevant that Tyana was an episcopal see as early as 325, and after being lost to the Arabs was recovered for the Byzantine empire in the tenth century; the site has also produced remains of a church datable to that same century. 

Though irrelevant to Apollonius’ fortunes in late antiquity, therefore, the treatise shows the same acceptance of him into Byzantine Christianity that is implied inter alia by his appearance in art as a prophet of Christ.

Thank you, Dr Alcock, for making this interesting text more widely accessible.

  1. [1]M. E. Stone, Apocrypha, Pseudepigrapha, and Armenian Studies, 2006, p.473 f.

From my diary

This Christmas break has been very welcome after a period of six months in which I was away from home, Monday to Friday, every week.  I’ve not done much with it, beyond a few essential professional chores which come with the end of the year.  Indeed no sooner was I home than I went down with a cold, as so often happens when one goes on holiday.  That disposed of the period up to Christmas.  This week I have mainly been pottering about.  One can’t work all the time!

I’ve been slimming down my book collection and disposing of items that I don’t think that I really need to keep.  Most of these have been fiction of one sort or another, and have been donated to a charity shop.  I seem to be going through a phase of disposing of books.  Somehow I feel that I have too many.

I also had a pile of books beside my desk for conversion into PDFs.  I purchased for a dollar or two a second copy of certain Penguin classics that I wanted in searchable form.  These have gone under the guillotine and through the sheet feeder, and are no more; but their PDF lives on.

At the moment I am converting an exceedingly cumbersome volume into PDF in the same way.  It is so cumbersome in book form, indeed, that I gave away a complimentary copy some months ago; and then, infuriatingly, found that I needed to consult it.  Replacing it cost $150.  It goes greatly against my instincts to destroy a paper book.  But it is useless in paper form, for I can locate  nothing in it.  So … it is passing through my sheet feeder as I write.

Six more books remain on the shelf beside my desk, awaiting similar treatment.  Two were review volumes, that I shall probably never look at again.  Another is an Italian textbook that I can’t even use unless I scan it.  At the end another bookcase will be empty, and thankfully so.

Increasingly I find that fiction is something disposable that I read on my mobile phone in the evenings in hotels; while reference volumes are more useful, generally, in a searchable PDF form.   What does that leave?  It leaves volumes of sentimental value, in the main.  It leaves reference volumes like Quasten which I find useful to have in paper form as well as in PDF.  It leaves Christian paperbacks, and joke books, and books that I read on paper and have no reason to turn into electronic form.

All the same, it does mean that a diminishing amount of my books are physical books.

It is also interesting to see the effect that Amazon Kindle publishing has had on fiction.  Much of this is electronic-only.  It is, and it feels, disposable; pulp, really.  There is no question of this stuff being treated like literature.  The loss of the physical volume means that I find myself downgrading the book itself.

Of course the more we have in electronic form, the more we need backups!

When “it was no longer possible to become a saint”; Byzantium in the 11th century

A curious claim met my eyes recently, in the Ashgate Research Companion to Byzantine Hagiography, vol. 1.  On p.148, as part of Symeon A. Paschalidis “The Hagiography of the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries”, we read the following words (overparagraphed by me):

An important catalyst in the decline of hagiographic production in the eleventh century… was the contesting of the elevation of new saints.  During this period the view was widespread that it was no longer possible to become a saint.

The philosophical position of the philosopher John Italos, a pupil of Psellus, who called into question all miracles attributed to Christ, the Theotokos, and the saints, also had some influence in this respect.

Our two most important sources for this dual contestation are two texts…

This sounds rather interesting.  The two texts are:

  • Nicetas Stethatos, Against those who accuse the saints (Κατὰ ἁγιοκατηγόρων). [UPDATE: Online here]
  •  John the Deacon and Maistor, against those who call into question the cult of the saints and argue that the saints cannot help the living, especially after their deaths.

These texts are hardly accessible, however.  Paschalidis himself has published the Stethatos text in S. Paschalidis, “Nicetas Stethatos’ unedited speech Against those who accuse the saints and the question of sanctity in eleventh century Byzantium” [in Greek], in: E. Kountoura-Galake (ed.), The Heroes of the Orthodox Church. The New Saints, 8th-16th c., [NHRF/IBR, International Symposia 15], Athens 2004, p. 493-518.  The relevant portion is 515-8.  [1]

The reference given for the other item is J. Gouillard, “Léthargie des âmes et culte des saints: un plaidoyer inédit de Jean Diacre et Maïstôr”, TM 8 (1981), 173-9.  “TM” turns out to be that not entirely well-known journal, “Travaux et mémoires du Centre de recherche d’histoire et civilisation de Byzance”, which I gather has a home page (if no content) here.  I am unclear whether this even contains the text; how one might obtain the article is quite unclear also.

I think by this point we are perhaps outside our period.  But it is very interesting that these questions are being raised around the time of the great collections of hagiographic material.  Perhaps some medievalist could obtain and translate these texts and place them on the web?

UPDATE: A kind correspondent notes that Paschalidis has a scan of the first text online at Academia.edu here.  This is not searchable, which means you can’t use Google Translate on it. I have therefore run it through Abbyy Finereader 12 and the output is here:

  1. [1]Available for purchase here for 35 euros, at a Greek bookseller.