This is the only blog that I have ever contributed to. But some of my interests are outside the scope of Thoughts on Antiquity. So I thought that I might try starting my own blog, and see if anyone is interested in what I have to say. I shall continue to blog here from time to time as well, however.
From book 3, chapter 32, slightly modernised:
“THERE were other things which caused secret vexation to [the emperor] Anastasius. For when Ariadne wanted to invest him with the purple, Euphemius, who held the archiepiscopal see, withheld his approval. He agreed only when Anastasius presented to him an agreement, written in his own hand, and secured with fearful oaths. This promised that he would maintain the faith inviolate, and would introduce no innovations into the holy church of God, if he obtained the sceptre. This document he also deposited with Macedonius, the keeper of the sacred treasures. He adopted this measure because Anastasius had generally the reputation of holding the Manichaean doctrine.
When, however, Macedonius ascended the episcopal throne, Anastasius wanted the agreement returned to him, affirming that it was an insult to the imperial dignity, if the before-mentioned document, in his own hand-writing, should be preserved. When Macedonius resolutely opposed the demand, and firmly protested that he would not betray the faith, the emperor pursued every insidious device for the purpose of ejecting him from his see.
Accordingly, even boys were brought forward as informers, who falsely accused both themselves and Macedonius of infamous practices. But when Macedonius was found to be emasculate, they had recourse to other contrivances. In the end, by the advice of Celer, commander of the household troops, Macedonius secretly retired from his see.”
This writer is hostile to Anastasius. But the kinds of allegations levelled by the cynical against priests to discredit their moral authority do not change, it seems.
In the Eastern Roman civil service, certain posts were reserved for eunuchs. Macedonius’ parents had designed him for such a career, thereby giving him an unusual advantage in such infighting. But don’t some of the canons of the ecumenical prohibit eunuchs from being priests?
Once I got interested in Arabic Christian Literature, I quickly found that the only book of use was Georg Graf’s 5 volume Geschichte der arabischen christlichen Literatur, published 50 years ago by the Vatican library. I was able to buy volumes 2-5 online, but not volume 1. The first two volumes deal with literature up to 1500, so are really the only part that would interest readers of this blog.
My first step was to borrow the book from the library, and run it through a scanner to create a directory of images, one per page. This took quite a while, because it’s 700-odd pages! I used Finereader 8.0 OCR software, not to do OCR but simply to manage the scanning. I used an OpticBook 3600 book scanner (very cheap and very fast) to scan each page.
In FineReader you can crop the pages to the same size, and erase dots etc. I did this, producing images with only small margins. You can also export all the pages to create an image-only PDF, and so I did, getting a 50mb PDF.
At this point I got rather ahead of myself, and omitted a crucial step, but I found this out later.
I opened an account on lulu.com (which is free), and started to create a book. To do this, you choose a paper size and binding. In my case this was 7.44″ x 9.68″, perfect binding. The site prompts you to upload a PDF, which is pretty awkward and fails a lot. I found that I had to follow the alternative path given on the site ‘for large files’ and upload my PDF using FTP.
When I had uploaded it, the site warned me that my PDF pages were smaller than the paper size. This meant that it would resize them. Foolish chap that I was, I presumed they would add white space. But this was wrong… they stretched the pages. They were still readable, but looked a bit odd.
You’re also asked whether your book should be made available to the public for sale (with whatever markup on cost you choose); only available on a private URL; or only available to you. I chose the latter, in case there were copyright issues.
The site allows you to design your own cover — I did this in a basic way. You then get to see the PDF that results from all of this, which they send to a printer. You save, and that’s it. A link appears, offering you the chance to buy a copy yourself, which I did. For this volume the cost price was about $22, and the postage was extra of course. Manufacture of the book takes 3-5 days, and then the post office do their thing for however long they like.
In my case it was three weeks before it arrived. It looked perfectly acceptable; except for the slightly stretched letters.
What I should have done, after scanning the images and cleaning and cropping them, was to pad them with whitespace myself before making the PDF. This is something that Finereader doesn’t let you do. But it stores the images in .tif format, so you can use other tools on them.
Since there were 700-odd files, I wasn’t going to do this by hand! I used a free command-line tool called ImageMagick. I don’t know it well, but it did the trick. I found that I needed an up-to-date version.
Now the TIF files from Finereader all include a thumbnail. This makes them hard to work with. What I did was write a little .com file containing a series of commands:
convert 0001.tif 0001.png convert 0002.tif 0002.png convert 0003.tif 0003.png ...
This gave errors, but converted all the pages to png format. I had to do this, because the next step wouldn’t work if I did it on the TIF files directly.
I then wrote another batch file:
convert 0001-0.png -background white -gravity center -extent 2978x3872 0001-ok.png convert 0002-0.png -background white -gravity center -extent 2978x3872 0002-ok.png convert 0003-0.png -background white -gravity center -extent 2978x3872 0003-ok.png ...
This took all the pages and plonked each of them in the middle of a white background sized 2978 by 3872 pixels. I knew that this was the size of the pages in the ‘print ready’ PDF that lulu.com had generated (because I downloaded it, opened it in Finereader, and got the size of the image of page 1 in pixels).
Then I created a new Finereader project, read in all those PNG’s at one go, saved them as a PDF, and this time had a PDF which was of the correct dimensions.
I’ve just finished uploading that, and bought a new copy of it. It ought to be perfect.
The PDF’s that we find on archive.org and the like are generally of low resolution, so I don’t know if they could be used for this. I scanned Graf at 400 dpi; the PDF of Agapius that I have been looking at on archive.org was 200 dpi. So we may all have to scan our own books.
But this clearly works. If you need a copy of an out-of-print and unobtainable book for private research purposes, you don’t have to rely on a pile of photocopies. We all have piles and piles of those, I know! But no; scan them instead, save your floor space, and print them at lulu.com. You could even produce compilations in this way. You could print extracts, ring bound, with blank pages between each opening. All sorts of things are possible.
Of course if you made them available to anyone else, you would need to be sure that they were out of copyright. If it is in print, buy a proper copy. But if it’s a 19th century library catalogue, this is probably a nice way to get your own copy.
8th August 2008: the printed copy arrived, and it’s perfect!
I had an email yesterday from someone at a German periodical, Antike Welt. Nothing wrong with that; indeed somewhat flattering.
Apparently they’re doing a Christmas article. As we all know, the only reference to a pagan festival on 25 December is in the Philocalian calendar, part 6 of the Chronography of 354, which I have online here.
This work was published in bits; some bits in the CIL, some in Monumenta Germanica, some images in yet another publication, and so on. So my edition was quite a bit of work, to reassemble a load of obscure publications.
Anyway, Antike Welt want to use some of it, which is very flattering indeed. They’d like to use the photography of the illustration of ‘December’, and the page of the calendar for the same month.
Mind you, it then gets a bit weird. They’d like me to rescan the image at a higher resolution, and could I type the calendar page into Illustrator for them? I don’t know that I have any higher resolution images, and I certainly have other things to do than do free typing for people! I’ve suggested that they get a nice, new, colour image of the illustration from the Vatican manuscript, and do their own typing.
PS, two days later: They never replied to my email. Hum.
The article has a facility for comments on it, which I used to express support for the digitisation and to query when the remaining 50,000-odd manuscripts will be digitised. Amusingly the Times chose not to publish my comment.
I was interested to find many volumes of the Patrologia Orientalis online at Archive.org. Three of the four volumes that contain Agapius are among these. So I downloaded PO7, which contains the section of Agapius from the birth of Christ (part 3 of 4), and printed a few pages.
Now I’ve been doing some business trips lately. There isn’t a lot to do in a hotel during the evening, so I found myself scribbling an English translation in the margins. I’ve decided to buy a PDA, in fact, to save myself the trouble of retyping.
However I began to get concerned at the quality of these (colour) prints. In some cases the letters were not too clear. At a couple of points, Agapius starts quoting Greek; and I couldn’t make out the letters! The actual resolution seems to be 120 dpi at best. This is way below the 400 dpi at which I scan everything myself, and isn’t really enough.
Perhaps I am missing something here, but if not, we have a problem, especially with texts in exotic alphabets.
We all know Agapius as containing an odd version of the Testimonium Flavianum. This became widely known from an article by Shlomo Pines. The version contained in the PO did not agree with my memory, so I went and looked up the Pines article. It seems that Pines supplemented the PO text with quotations of Agapius in the later Arabic Christian historian, Al-Makin. The version in Al-Makin is longer than that in the Florence ms, which alone contains this part of Agapius, and contains extra sentences. Strictly we should refer to this as the Al-Makin version of Agapius, perhaps.
Rather a lot of people mistrust biblical scholars. Other scholars look at them sideways. Christians treat them with suspicion, because they so often appear on TV in the UK bashing the Christians. Since few outside of Christianity are much interested in biblical studies, the curious effect is that the discipline in general is brought under suspicion of being biased against its subject matter.
It is, perhaps, a sensitive subject. Those who raise it often find themselves being screamed at. Cynics may feel that the discipline might incur less odium if it made more of an effort to be objective, and to steer clear of religious and political controversy, and there is probably truth in that, at least in the UK. I’m not sure whether that is entirely fair, however.
But quite by accident today I saw this post which advertises a historical Jesus seminar. I’d like to look at the abstract of the first paper, as an example of the sort of thing that makes me quite uneasy about biblical studies. I don’t know who wrote that abstract, and I certainly don’t want to pillory the author who doubtless reflects the college he comes from. But I have seen the same sort of attitude, expressed or insinuated more subtly, on a number of occasions. Here’s the start:
“‘How did Jesus cure?’ … It has become common in NT studies to avoid such questions by either declaring them inadmissible or providing supernaturalist explanations which would be unacceptable in any other discipline and are not usually considered appropriate when looking at comparable figures with reputations as healers in antiquity.”
The author is plainly not a Christian; but that’s fine. He appeals to objective standards, and so is that. But somehow this distills the essence of much of my unease. To the author, the only objective way to study Christianity is on the basis that it is untrue.
Now one might have various things to say about this. But this is not a value-neutral position! It is, in fact, the intrusion of a prejudice as an axiom.
I must ask whether this is how we want to study any ancient text? Do we define in advance that, in every important element, the text before us is wrong, and its authors mistaken, duped or dishonest? I would feel deep unease at any study of any book that started on that foot. We might draw that conclusion at the end of our studies; but hardly in advance.
There is genuine difference of opinion among the educated on questions such as whether miracles happen. Is it the place of scholarship to answer that? If it is — which seems doubtful — is it right to do it, not by debate, but by means of subterfuge and insinuation? It seems to me that the above sentence does just this. For instance, are we not invited to acquiesce in the belief that either we must hold that every ancient superstition was genuine, or else we must reject Christianity? Likewise does it not insinuate that Jesus is no different from any other healer in antiquity? Both of these might be discussed, although not here, but they can hardly be assumed, or treated as ‘objective’. I feel that this sort of thing is rather common.
It is certainly quite possible that Christianity is not true. Let us frankly admit this. But is it the job of biblical studies to take a position that it is not, before starting work?
The real issue is how we do scholarship. On any subject, I want to see the data gathered, conclusions drawn cautiously from it, and a general refusal to speculate or introduce extraneous political or religious opinions, on which people may well have differing opinions.
Let’s look at that paper in this light. What data exists on ‘how Jesus cured’? Jesus heals a leper; but neither Jesus nor the leper is available for interview. No archaeological evidence exists or indeed is conceivable. We’re reliant solely on the accounts in the New Testament, perhaps leavened with a bit of patristic quotation from Celsus.
And what do these say? Well, it hardly matters: because we have already decided that any testimony they give to supernatural events must be rejected without discussion, and every last source suggests that supernatural means are involved. But if that is the case, surely we have nothing further to discuss, not based on data and deductions from it! All the data gives one answer.
Disentangling some core of truth from a book that is (on this hypothesis) a complete and persistent set of lies must be impossible without some further external data. All that is left is silence. But we’re not offered silence; so we must be looking at unevidenced speculation which is contradicted by the only literary source. Is that scholarship? If it is, then I would treat scholarship as a fraud on the taxpayer and on the public.
But I think better of scholarship than this, despite my scientific training and the contempt for the humanities that Oxford instills. This is merely bad scholarship, where a theory takes the place of the data, and prejudice substitutes for evidence. Haven’t we all seen this habit, in all sorts of fields of scholarship?
I tend to wonder whether biblical studies, as a discipline, needs to be reformed. After all, to whom — outside of the few in the field — is it currently convincing? There is much genuine scholarship around in biblical studies. One has only to look at NA27, or at Metzger on the Text of the NT, to see that at once. But then there is stuff like this.
But if biblical studies should be reformed, how should it be carried out? What measures will restore the confidence of the public in the discipline? What measures would convince the academy at large that biblical studies is a genuine, objective discipline, and not merely an excuse for peddling religion (or, in fear of that accusation, its reverse)?
Or is it easier to scream at anyone who asks whether the emperor has any clothes?
I have been reading Cathleen Medwick’s biography of Teresa of Avila. This describes how St. Teresa founded a series of Carmelite convents in the Spain of Philip II. Each was a return to the primitive Carmelite rule, rather than the rather more comfortable ‘relaxed’ rule then in vogue, and motivated by sincere desire to do what God wanted.
But I was most interested in the mention at the end of a Genoese merchant-turned-friar, Nicholas Doria, who began to be useful as a man of business to Teresa in her last years. His contacts in Rome proved useful to her; but he also had a talent for conspiracy. It seems that this capable man, after Teresa’s death, induced her close friend Fr. Gracian to promote him to the second position in the order. He then outmanouvered the naive Gracian, took over the order himself, and expelled Gracian from St. Teresa’s own order. Thus within a few years the reformed Carmelite order was in the hands of a man who had arrived right at the end, who had taken no real part in its struggles and whose only claim to belong was that his worldly skills had been useful on a couple of occasions to the saint.
Down the centuries, whenever Christian organisations have come to control property or acquired reputation, there have been individuals who have made their way into them for their own advantage. Such people are often very effective politicians; and every organisation that exists in this world has to be aware of politics. But their loyalty is to themselves, not to God.
I believe that something rather similar happened to Methodism after the death of John Wesley; that men who don’t even feature in Wesley’s journal then tried to seize his empire.
Many Christians believe that the church became corrupt during the years after the first council of Nicaea. Once Constantine had legalised the church, being a bishop was rather less risky, and much more profitable. Indeed this process had already begun in the time of Diocletian. Eusebius records in the History of the Martyrs of Palestine, in a sentence often abused to try to prove him a liar, that he proposes to record only those events which are edifying, or that show that the church deserved the persecution.
When the Arian controversy arose, it was a local matter between Arius and his bishop. It was Eusebius of Nicomedia who made it a contest across the whole Christian world. Eusebius had some links with the emperor Licinius, but he had not suffered in the persecutions and became, first bishop of Berytus and then of Nicomedia in 318 AD. Arius appealed to Eusebius for help; and Eusebius deluged the East with letters demanding that bishops support Arius (and, by implication, himself). His quest for power had a set-back at Nicaea, where the vote went against him and he was exiled, but he was soon back — as such flexible men always are. In the years that followed he arranged for the removal of stalwarts of the Nicene party such as Marcellus of Ancyra, on one pretext or another, and the replacement of bishop after bishop with his partisans. He crowned his career by being the bishop who baptised Constantine on his death bed.
Yet within 50 years Arianism was dead. It was never truly an issue. The whole matter was perhaps merely the excuse for the pursuit of power of a man with little interest in what God wanted.
Is the old position correct, that the legal church soon became a corrupt church? There are many who would disagree, not least Catholics and East Orthodox. But when one looks at some of the 5th century councils, the spectacle of worldly men fighting like rats over the church is hard to stomach. If we do not simply take this view — that all of this is merely the triumph of the world over the church — then how do we explain this business?
I collect joke books. Most evenings I get home, tired, and I’m not really in the mood to read something heavy. Instead I pick up a joke book, open it anywhere, read a few lines and always find something to make me smile.
Anyone who has bought joke books will be familiar with the way that the exact wording can change. The contents of any book will vary, depending on what the author had access to. Some jokes are attributed to famous people in one book, and are anonymous in others.
Collections of wit and wisdom are not modern inventions. Someone has invented the horrible term ‘gnomologia’ – literally ‘words of wisdom’ – to describe these things. That’s enough to put anyone off! But it means the same. These are ancient collections of wit and wisdom.
I’ve been reading Denis Searby’s edition of the Corpus Parisinum (although the library have seen fit to only send me volume 1, the Greek text!). I am struck by the way in which the contents of this monstrous 9th century collection of sayings, anecdotes, apophthegms (a long word for ‘bits of sage wisdom’) follow these rules also.
Joke books are a low-brow form of literature in our day, but a very popular one. Likewise collections of sayings and wit were a popular form of literature, and occur all over the place in the manuscripts. It is worth considering that one of Caxton’s first publications in English was a translation of an Arabic collection of wit and wisdom. Doubtless he printed it primarily because he believed that he could sell it readily.
Some versions of the collection omit some or all of the names of the authors to whom each saying or story is attributed (the jargon for this is the ‘lemma’). But clearly it is the wit of the saying which is important, not the specific person as a rule. We would never criticise a joke book author for changing attribution, if it made the joke funnier, after all.
As the Greek language changed, sayings had to be rewritten. An archaic word might dull the point of some saying; it would have to be rephrased. Translations into Syriac and Arabic were initially very literal. But quickly they would be rephrased or rewritten in order to work in their new context. Impact is everything with a joke or anecdote; without it, it loses its point. Unfunny jokes are not repeated.
Modern jokes are usually delivered orally. There is thus an oral stage to transmission, particularly with the Arabic material, where the culture favours quotations of sententious wisdom and so is favourable to exactly this form of literature.
Other volumes are collections of anecdotes. After-dinner stories can be bought in most bookshops. Again, Bar Hebraeus compiled a volume of anecdotes, published by E. Wallis Budge as “The laughable stories.” These follow the same sorts of rules. Many a modern story is attributed to Churchill, or Oscar Wilde. Arabic ones tended to end up attributed to Aristotle.
Dr Searby makes a couple of interesting points about the transmission of these works. For one thing, if we are trying to produce a critical edition, precisely what is the autograph? In what sense is there an original?
Secondly he suggests that, within the limits given above, the transmission of the content of sayings is quite faithful.
It’s clearly a mistake to treat these sayings collections as if they were literary works like a poem or a history. Their nature means that they must be transmitted differently, the text is expected to be altered, is expected to have additional material added. There is no fraud or dishonesty in this; merely the nature of the genre.
PS: After writing this I began to read the “Laughable stories”. Saying 56: “A rich man wrote above the door of his house, ‘No evil thing may enter.’ Diogenes said, ‘Fine; but how is your wife to come in, then?'”
Aren’t links wonderful? Someone on TheoGreek has noticed my work with Cyril of Alexandria, and asks questions about it, and why I’m writing about him. I’m flattered! But rather than write a long comment there, I thought I’d blog about it here.
I suppose that I have been looking at Cyril’s works a lot lately. As part of my hobby to digitise patristic works, sooner or later I was going to reach Cyril. His big commentaries on Luke and John and the anti-Nestorian works published in the Library of the Fathers were all silently omitted from the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers series, despite there being available translations which could be pirated for the series. Perhaps that says something about his reputation in the west! Naturally I have scanned these, and indeed found snippets of genuine pastoral wisdom in the sermons on Luke. He may be a bit of a dodgy character, to us, but he is widely revered in the Greek orthodox and eastern orthodox churches, as my correspondence shows. I’m trying to keep an open mind.
His controversial works from the Nestorian period are mostly untranslated. This is a shame. I have commissioned a translation of one of them, the Apologeticus ad imperatorem, as I said elsewhere. The others ought to be available, and I have a translator, but whether I can afford to do it I don’t know! It’s not as if I really want to read De recta fide after all. But… access is all.
The other text that really should exist in English is his reply to Julian the Apostate’s attack on Christianity. Contra Julianum needs to be translated and online. A critical text is being prepared in Switzerland, and I hope to do something with this in due course. This work would cost around $10,000 to translate. Ouch! But it really, really must be done.
Then there is Norman Russell’s excellent book on Cyril. Tellingly it starts by quoting a sermon by Theodoret written after the death of Cyril in which he hopes that someone will bury Cyril under a large rock, in case he comes back again! Apparently the sermon is probably spurious, tho.
Was Cyril corrupt? Politically he was, in his role as Mob-boss of Alexandria. But… is it quite fair to condemn a man for using the methods necessary to get his way in a corrupt society? It is easy for Christians today to say that it was. The means corrupt the end. We all know this. And yet, we live in a society in which the Christians are being forced out of the churches by those willing to use corrupt means. Cyril would have suggested that we were simply wimping out, I think. It will be interesting to see if he indicates anything like this in the Apologeticus, defending his conduct.
I don’t pretend to know. But it is useless to attempt to evade the fact that some churchmen have been wicked men, and others who are revered have been accustomed to methods that we find disgusting. We know that the church has become corrupted whenever it wields political power, as the Borgia Pope proves. But however we think about the past, we need to recognise the reality of sin, in the history of the church and in the lives of too many of its most eminent men. Let us avoid their mistakes, let us pray for them, and also for ourselves: “Lord have mercy on me, a sinner”. If Tertullian could invite the prayers of the newly baptised for “Tertullian, a sinner” in De baptismo, we need not shrink from doing the same.