Author: Roger Pearse

Roman attitudes to magic

Posted on by Roger Pearse

There were three sets of Roman legislation relating to magic.[1]  There was an edict in the Twelve Tables (ca. 451 BC); the laws of Sulla (81 BC); and the legislation of Constantine and other Christian emperors (after 312 AD).

Table VIII.9 made it a crime to move crops from someone else’s field to one’s own by magic.  There is another possible prohibition of a carmen causing insult to another, where carmen may mean a spell.  The emphasis is on injury to another.  A trial  under this law took place before the curule aedile, Spurius Albinus, in 157 BC according to Pliny the Elder NH 18-41-43.  Further actions against magicians, usually their expulsion, took place during the republic.[2]

The Lex Cornelia de sicariis et veneficis (=assassins and poisoners) is quoted in the so-called Sentences of Paulus 5.23.15-18 (ostensibly ca. 210 AD; probably actually late 3rd century AD; does not seem to be online).  This reads:

Persons who celebrate or cause to be celebrated impious or noctural rites so as to enchant, bewitch or bind anyone, shall be crucified or thrown to wild beasts… Anyone who sacrifices a man, or attempts to obtain auspices by means of his blood, or pollutes a shrine or a temple, shall be thrown to wild beasts, or, if he is of superior rank, shall be punished with death. … It has been decided that persons who are addicted to the art of magic shall suffer extreme punishment; that is to say, they shall be thrown to wild beasts or crucified.  Magicians themselves shall be burned alive. … No-one shall be permitted to have books of magic in his possession, and when they are found with anyone they shall be publicly burned and those who have them, after being deprived of his property, if they are of superior rank shall be deported to an island, and if they are of inferior station shall be put to death; for not only is the practice of this art prohibited, but also knowledge of the same.

Digest 48.8 deals with the Cornelian law, and quotes the opinions of later jurists on it.[1]  Interestingly they include (48.8.4) a quotation from book 7 of Ulpian’s De officiis proconsularis [4].  Lactantius tells us that this same volume of this same book by Ulpian contained edicts against the Christians:

Moreover, most wicked murderers have invented impious laws against the pious. For both sacrilegious ordinances and unjust disputations of jurists are read. Domitius, in his seventh book, concerning the office of the proconsul, has collected wicked rescripts of princes, that he might show by what punishments they ought to be visited who confessed themselves to be worshippers of God. – Lactantius, Div. Inst. 5, 11.

It’s interesting to see that Christianity was grouped together with magicians by Ulpian.  It may be relevant that Christians were sometimes accused of practising magic; perhaps the edicts were gathered together for this reason.

Augustus as pontifex maximus ordered all books on occult subjects to be burned, which were 2,000 in number, according to Suetonius (Aug. 31).  In AD 16 yet another expulsion of magicians and astrologers from Italy took place; and further expulsions occurred during the first century.

The legislation of the Christian emperors against magic is in the Codex Justinianus 9:18 and in the Codex Theodosianus 9:16.  In 312 Constantine banned a haruspex from visiting another; in 321 banned magical arts that injured others, while exempting those used for medicinal purposes or the general welfare.  In 357 Constantius banned magic altogether (CJ. 9.18.5):

Chaldaei ac magi et ceteri, quos maleficos ob facinorum magnitudinem vulgus appellat, nec ad hanc partem aliquid moliantur.

Chaldeans, magicians, and others who are commonly called malefactors on account of the enormity of their crimes shall no longer practice their arts.[5]

A law of 358 called magicians “the enemies of the human race” and classified those who used magic verses, sorcerors, haruspices, soothsayers, augurs, diviners, and interpreters of dreams as magicians.

Although the Lex Cornelia involved a general prohibition, cases such as that of Apuleius show that only when harm was supposed was the law likely to become involved, and otherwise was not strictly enforced.  Apuleius was accused of using magic to cause a boy to fall sick, and also to induce a wealthy widow to marry him (to the fury of her family, who raised the allegation).  In his defence, Apuleius acknowledges the illegality of magic (Apology 47):

You have demanded fifteen slaves to support an accusation of magic; how many would you be demanding if it were a charge of violence? The inference is that fifteen slaves know something, and that something is still a mystery.  Or is it nothing mysterious and yet something connected with magic? You must admit one of these two alternatives: either the proceeding to which I admitted so many witnesses had nothing improper about it, or, if it had, it should not have been witnessed by so many.

Now this magic of which you accuse me is, I am told, a crime in the eyes of the law, and was forbidden in remote antiquity by the Twelve Tables because in some incredible manner crops had been charmed away from one field to another. It is then as mysterious an art as it is loathly and horrible; it needs as a rule night-watches and concealing darkness, solitude absolute and murmured incantations, to hear which few free men are admitted, not to speak of slaves.

And yet you will have it that there were fifteen slaves present on this occasion. Was it a marriage? Or any other crowded ceremony? Or a seasonable banquet? Fifteen slaves take part in a magic rite as though they had been created quindecimvirs for the performance of sacrifice! Is it likely that I should have permitted so large a number to be present on such an occasion, if they were too many to be accomplices? [3]

 Magic, then, was always something secret and illegal; if, in practice, tolerated so long as no scandal occurred.

1. Stephen Benko, Pagan Rome and the Early Christians, p. 128f.
2. Eugene Tavenner, Studies in magic from Latin Literature, p.13 f, usefully reviews all the data with references, and also lists Roman writers on the occult.
3. Apuleius, Apology, 47.
4.  The Digest is online in Latin here.
5. Codex Justinianus 9.18.5, ed. P. Krueger, Berlin: Weidmann (1877), p.837.  Online here.  The Codex Justinianus is online in Latin here as part of the Corpus Juris Civilis. 

Update 20 May 2024: The second reference to the “Digest” should have been to the Codex Justinianus, part of the Corpus Juris Civilis, and in vol. 2 of the Krueger edition of 1877.  Slight revisions for clarity.

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Norwich and the Roman world

Posted on by Roger Pearse

I went to Norwich today, since the weather was so fine.  The city itself is well worth a visit, with the remains of the medieval walls, a bustling market and the massive Norman keep on the hill overlooking the city.  And my goodness weren’t there a lot of pretty girls out in the streets!

Just outside the city, at the roundabout with the A140, is a sign to the Roman city of Caistor St. Edmunds.  This is basically a field, which is visible from the A140, with Roman walls at various points.  More photos from here, where a project to do magnetic resonancing was announced in 2006.  But take some food and drink with you; there isn’t a bite of anything to be had on site!

Caistor St. Edmund Roman Town
Caistor St. Edmund Roman Town
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Translating from Arabic into Latin in Medieval Spain

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A really important blog post at Quodlibeta on a very neglected subject: how did Arabic scientific knowledge get into circulation in Latin in the Middle Ages?  Read it for yourself.  I have asked for a bibliography, as I certainly want to know more!

Readers of this blog will recall my posts on Galen and Hunain ibn Ishaq; how Greek scientific knowledge got into Arabic, by means of Christian translators, first into Syriac by people like Sergius of Reshaina and Job of Edessa, and then in the 10th century across into Arabic by people like Hunain ibn Ishaq.  But the Quodlibeta post continues this, in asking what happened next!

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The anathemas against Origen at the 2nd Council of Constantinople

Posted on by Roger Pearse

I’m going through my filing cabinet, turning photocopies into PDF’s and throwing away the paper.  While doing so, I’m coming across all sorts of things that I haven’t seen for years.  One of these is some pages of Norman Tanner’s edition of the Decrees of the ecumenical councils (1990).  This is the sort of thing that I dearly wish was online.  But a note in the preface caught my eye:

Our purpose in editing the texts has been to present all the decrees of the councils and only the decrees. For this reason some very important texts have had to be omitted, for example the anathemas against Origen formerly attributed (erroneously) to Constantinople II, or the charges on which pope Honorius was condemned (as these relate to the acts, not the decrees, of Constantinople III), or the profession of faith of pope Hormisdas which was a condition of admittance required of the council fathers at Constantinople IV, but does not appear to have been formally approved by the council.

Now I was under the impression, rightly or wrongly, that the Council of Constantinople held by Justinian had condemned Origenism, and perhaps anathematised Origen himself, depending on some text-critical questions.  To pronounce a man anathema 300 years after he died in the peace of the church, and died moreover from the effects of torture in confessing Christ, would be morally wrong of course.

Unfortunately I don’t have the relevant pages of Tanner, and I don’t know the facts.  Would someone better informed on this council than myself care to comment?

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More books in and about Syriac online at BYU

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Kristian Heal has announced 35 additions to the Syriac books online here.  Nothing wildly exciting, but all very useful, solid stuff!

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Some answers on the confusing History of Abu al-Makarim / Abu Salih

Posted on by Roger Pearse

I’ve now read the article by Ugo Zanetti, “Abu-l Makarim et Abu Salih”, Bulletin de la societe d’archeologie copte 34 (1995), pp.85-138, which seems pretty thorough on all the confusing information around.  Rather than leave my questions hanging, I thought I would answer it myself for the benefit of those reading and not as obsessed as myself!

There are two, and only two manuscripts; Paris arabe 307, and Munich ar. 2570.  The latter once belonged to Girgis Filutaus (who was Rector of the Coptic Cathedral in Cairo), but arrived in Europe a couple of decades ago, in a very bad state.

Evetts published the Paris ms in 1898, with an English translation.  This is missing the introduction, but ends with a colophon.

Fr. Samuel published the Munich ms (then still in Egypt), and used a modern copy of the Paris ms. in the Coptic Museum.  His edition was in 4 parts, part 4 being indexes etc.  Part 1 and 3 were from the Munich ms; part 2 from the Paris ms, where he improves somewhat on Evetts edition.

Zanetti analysed the two mss codicologically and found that they were originally a single manuscript, which was dismembered centuries ago, before the Paris ms was bought in Egypt during the 17th century.  The Munich ms. is the start of the ms. and should be followed by the Paris ms.  So the correct order of the parts in Samuel should be part 1, part 3, and then part 2.  (Samuel was misled by the hand of the scribe, which changes part way through the ms and then changes back, and by the fact that he didn’t have access to more than photographs of the Paris ms.)

An English translation exists of part 1 (only) of Samuel’s edition.  This is

Bishop Samuel, “Abu al Makarem”. Trans<lated> by Mina al-Shamaa`.  Rev. by Mrs. Elizabeth (= “History of the Churches and Monasteries in Lower Egypt in the 13th century”), Cairo, Inst. des. Etudes Coptes (Anba Ruwais), 1992.

It also includes some maps and an index. A copy exists in the US Library of Congress.

So no translation exists of part 3 (i.e. the middle part of the work).

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From my diary – my trip to Oxford

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Up before 7:00 and on the road at 7:15.  Very hot and humid here, and I was glad of the air-conditioning in the car.  A good trip down to London in the rush hour.  When I am on the way to Oxford, and get onto the M40 out of London, it always feels as if I have left London almost immediately.  The motorway runs through countryside.  It’s never too busy, and I have never been held up going north on it towards Oxford. 

Soon it starts to undulate, up and down, but ever upwards.  Then you reach the sign saying “Oxfordshire”, and immediately pass into a wide cleft in the hills, from which you can see the whole valley in which Oxford lies.  Immediately there is a bare hill to the right, with woodland at hand, reminiscent of the downs.  The cooling towers at Didcot — the landmark if you go by train — are visible in the far distance.  Then a sign saying “Thame” reminds us that this is the landscape of “Farmer Giles of Ham”. 

From here on, the air and light seem enchanted, heavy with memory of summer days in Oxford.  The brick buildings give way to Cotswold stone.  The Oxford exit appears, and the broad straight road that takes one from the M40 to Oxford is soon traversed.  A spell on the ring road, and I found myself driving up the Abingdon Road.  Then comes Folly Bridge, the Head of the River pub, and Tom Tower of Christ Church is visible and we’re in what I think of as “the real Oxford”.  Brilliant, hot sunshine, and Oxford almost glows with light.  I park in the Westgate centre car park, which is as shabby as ever, and go through the Westgate centre which I remember from my student days.

I sold my books at St. Philips bookshop.  Fifty books, which made only 175 GBP (about $270), but at least they are off the floor.  The remainder he didn’t think he could sell, and will be given away, including all the Italian translations.  Then up to Carfax and into the bank to deposit the cheque; the bank I used as a student, now much rearranged, but still at the same address.

On to the Bodleian, where the entrance area has been rearranged.  Gone are the cloak-pegs and cupboards; instead a turnstyle and I must swipe my card.  Bags are forbidden, unless of clear plastic.  But I have anticipated this evil, and prepared accordingly.  Inside my normal plastic bag is a clear plastic bag, containing my papers.  I remove it, fold the outer bag and stuff it in my pocket, transfer my wallet and mobile phone into my trouser pockets — for I am wearing only a shirt and tie in the hot weather — and I can go anywhere in the library.

Up to Duke Humphrey’s library, where the Combefis volume awaits.  A quick persual of “Asterius of Amasea” reveals a volume containing a huge variety of materials, only a few of which are by Asterius.  The Eusebius passage is there!  I look for information on the manuscripts Combefis used; the usual vagueness in a single page headed “Candido Lectore”.  I note which pages I want, and after a fruitless attempt to obtain copies resolve to obtain them from Birmingham instead.

Down to the Lower Reading Room, and the catalogues.  I’m looking for three articles on the Coptic history by Al-Makarim, what it is, manuscripts etc.  The Bodleian has all three journals (hurray).  But it takes at least half a day to get any (boo).  Then I discover two of them are in the Sackler library.  “What’s that?” I wonder.  It turns out to be the books associated with the Ashmolean, including Egyptology.  Those journals will be on the shelves.  I’ll go there.  By now it’s lunchtime.

Out I come… to rain.  The weather has changed, and I am caught out.  I walk valiantly down the road towards the High, and then along, hoping to get to my car and my umbrella, but the rain increases.  I’m driven into the covered market, as the thunder crashes overhead.  The market used to be down-market, but has been renovated.  It’s very pleasant there, with tables and cafes, and I spend 20-25 mins before the rain diminishes enough that I can leave. 

Once I have my umbrella from the car, back up the road and into the Sackler library.  I eventually find a photocopier, and get the articles.  Exit; it’s raining again.  I go down to the Bodleian, then down to the High, then down Magpie Lane to Merton college.  Little has changed, although the porters’ lodge has been reordered in a sensible way and an iron gate installed across the main entrance to force visitors through it (less welcome).  The porter tells me incidentally that Merton now has 600 undergraduates, twice what it did when I was there, the increase mainly in the last few years.  It seems that the college has omitted a few important facts from the material it sends out to graduates each year.  Then across St Albans quad, out into the garden, and up to the turret on the wall, in haste as the rain increases again.  Past King Charles’ mulberry tree, and back through Fellows Quad. 

Finally out, back to the Westgate Centre.  I pop into Sainsburys and buy some rolls and cheese and water for the journey back.  It is 3:15, and I leave, and head out into a monsoon-like downpour which turns the Oxford ring-road into a river.  But by the time I get to the M40 it has slackened, and I get home by 6:15.  A good day.

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Naked greed at the Bodleian: the August 2009 Bloodsucker award

Posted on by Roger Pearse

I’m in Oxford, and have just been to Duke Humphrey’s library at the Bodleian to examine the 1648 volume of Combefis containing a fragment of Eusebius’ Quaestiones.  The reference I have is good, the book is a folio printed text, and I need copies of half a dozen pages.

But I’ve come away without any.  Why?  Because I cannot bring myself to be robbed by these greedy bastards.

The Bodleian will only do “digital scans” — i.e. photographs.  These, as we all know, are basically free.  You click a button and that is it.  Price for ‘bitonal’ – what you and I know as black-and-white — is 29p per photo, 600 dpi.  That is steep, but not impossible.  But of course when the paper is old, with black and white you get spots and wrinkles everywhere.  So that’s really no good.

The next option up is greyscale.  Of course that costs them not a penny more.  But they want, wait for it, 3.87 GBP ($6 or thereabouts) per photo.  That’s the price of changing one setting on their camera.  Greyscale would probably cover my need, but I’m not paying that.

Colour is even worse; 17.20 GBP – around $27.  Again, it costs them nothing more.

This is unconscionably greedy.  Were I of the mentality of Thomas Wise, I  think I might be minded to just tear the pages out.  I have no doubt that some readers will do just this.  Greedy libraries get damaged books, and I have seen books at the Bodleian so treated.

Apparently a certain Allan James is head of imaging, and so probably responsible.  If you know him, tell him what you think of him.

This naked greed — to the point of rendering work impossible — qualifies the Bodleian for the Bloodsucker Award, which is duly awarded to those whose lust for money is indulged to such an extent as to destroy the mission of the library.

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Bodleian catalogue of Greek manuscripts now online

Posted on by Roger Pearse

At Google Books, here.  This is the Coxe catalogue.  Might make interesting reading!

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Housekeeping journal articles; from my diary 2

Posted on by Roger Pearse

It’s hot and humid here; so much so, that I can’t think straight.  So I’ve been looking at the piles of photocopied articles and running them through my scanner and throwing away the photocopy.  That’s a mindless activity I can do.

Not sure I’m quite there yet, tho.  The PDF’s are OK, but they aren’t OCR’d.  The scanner software has OCR, but it’s not good enough.  Nor is the built-in OCR in Acrobat.  The best still seems to be Finereader 9; but the PDF’s don’t go through FR9 unchanged.  The images can look strange.

Not sure what to do about that.  But I am gradually freeing up storage space.

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