The Life of Severus of Antioch – part 4

The pagan Asclepiodotus has passed off the illegitimate child of a priestess of Isis as the child of his sterile wife, claiming that Isis had cured her.  The student Paralios, vacillating between his pagan friends, and Stephen, the friend of his Christian brother Athanasius, has learned the story.

Paralios, believing that this story was true, made it known to his brother, and to those who were with him, as a remarkable thing.  He said that this demonstration from facts had greater force than any argument from logic, and he gloried in it as an obvious pagan miracle.  The divine Stephen, having heard the story of this nonsense, said to Paralios, “If a sterile woman, my friend, has given birth, she will also have milk, and the pagans must verify the matter, by the intermediary of an honourable lady of a family known at Alexandria.  She can see it and establish this prodigy and miracle, and so it will not seem that the daughter of an important official of Caria, and the wife of a philosopher, is insulted (?).”  This language seemed reasonable, and Paralios forwarded the proposal of the monks to the pagan philosophers.  But these, thinking that nobody could be allowed to impugn this fabulous story, said to Paralios, “How dare you demand the impossible!  Do you think to persuade people [the philosophers] who remain unshakeably attached to the truth, and who don’t waste time on things of this sort?”  But as it seemed ……………. sent …………….. so the outcome for Paralios was that he moved away from the teachings of the pagans.

He produced yet another fact, which is as follows.  While at Menouthis, Paralios saw Isis, i.e. the demon who this goddess represents, who said to him in a dream, “Beware of that one, he’s a magician.”  Now it happened that the man in question had also come to learn grammar, and studied with the (same) master and that the demon revealed to him (the same thing) about Paralios, when he went to Menouthis.  Each made his vision known to his friends at the school of Horapollon, and each learned what his fellow-pupil said about him, and each was persuaded that he was telling the truth and that his fellow-pupil was lying.

Also Paralios recalled the teaching of the great Stephen; he remembered that both Stephen and Athanasius had spoken long discourses with him on the evils of the malevolent demons, telling him that these were in the habit of stirring up men, one against another, because they enjoyed wars and fighting and were the enemies of peace.

However Paralios wanted to know the truth about these things.  Indeed he reflected on what was the custom of the demon, and about the error, and about what went on in these places.  Until then he believed that his companion was lying.  So he returned to Menouthis.  He offered the customary sacrifices to the demon and prayed that he would let him know by an oracle if it was himself who was a magician, or his enemy, and whether such an oracle had really been given to both of them.   The demon, not tolerating the idea that the oracles in question might be tainted by contradiction and wickedness, did not deign to reply.  Paralios then begged the demon for a number of days not to leave the question unanswered because, he said, he wouldn’t try to refuse him, or the other gods, his submission and honours if he received entire satisfaction on this subject.  The demon persevered in his silence, and didn’t even give him sight of the customary illusion of his epiphany.  After waiting for a long time and offering many sacrifices, Paralios grew angry, and had no more doubts about the wicked teaching of the demons.  He praised the great Stephen, who had really told him the truth, and he prayed, as the latter had told him to do, “Creator of all things (etc.)”, adding these words by the great Stephen, “Show me your truth and do not let me be seduced by this demon who loves fighting, who arms men against each other and who stirs up quarrels; nor by the other evil demons like him.”  In fact he had been advised to address a prayer to the creator of everything, because it was desired to get rid of, immediately, the invocation of the gods of the pagans and the demons, of Chronos, Zeus, Isis, and names of that sort, and to accustom him little by little to the truth of the teachings [of the gospel]; it was desired that he should recognise no other creator of everything than our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the Father made the world, the principalities, the powers, and the dominations, as it is written, “All things were made by him,” says the Theologian, “and nothing was made without him.”  After this prayer, Paralios returned to Alexandria.  He uttered many words against the gods of the pagans, saying with David, “All the gods of the nations are demons, but the Lord is the creator of the heavens.”

He mocked Horapollon, Heraiscus, Ammonius, and Isidore (who finished up being recognised as a manifest and troublesome magician) and the rest of the pagans, (jeering) at what went on at Menouthis, the impurities of all kinds and the lubricity of the priestess of Isis, affirming that she engaged in debauchery with anybody who wanted to, that she was no different to a prostitute who gives herself to the first man who comes along.

The pupils of Horapollon, who were attached to the follies of the pagans, could not bear the sarcasm and  reproaches of Paralios.  So they fell upon him in the very school where they were studying.  They waited for the moment when few Christians were present and when Horapollon had left.

It was the sixth day of the week, which is called Friday, during which all the other professors, so to speak, used to teach and expound at home.  Paralios was beaten up; his head was a mass of bruises and his whole body was covered with some kind of injury.  After succeeding, with difficulty, in getting a little away from them — he had a robust constitution — he sought refuge and assistance with the Christians, while a mob of pagans surrounded him and kicked him.  Now we were present at that moment, having a philosophy course.  The philosophers as well as Horapollon used to teach in the school on Friday as normal.  There were three of us; myself, Thomas the sophist, who loved Christ in all things (he is with me in Gaza), and Zenodotus of Lesbos.  As we were constantly in the churches with those who are called (at Alexandria) Philoponoi, and in other places are called “zealots”, and in still others “companions”, and as we appeared rather redoubtable (to the pagan pupils) to some degree, we approached the troublemakers, who were many, and told them that they were not doing well at all, in making someone suffer so who wanted to become a Christian.  It was, indeed, what Paralios was shouting.  The pagans wanted to deceive us and soothe us with their claims, saying, “We’ve no quarrel with you, but we will avenge ourselves on Paralios as an enemy.”

Since Christianity was the state religion, and paganism was illegal, there must have been a definite undercurrent here.  Ancient states were not policed, so a great deal could go on that was in theory illegal.  So it came down to pressure. Zacharias and his friends were implicitly saying, “You don’t want us to report you as pagans to the authorities here, do you?”  And the pagans were saying, “This isn’t a Christian-pagan thing; this guy has insulted us and is getting some payback.”

It’s notable that Zacharias does not disguise that Paralios had indeed provoked a riot, and was now playing “the religion card”.   This might have been unintelligible a century ago.  Sadly it is not so now.

We’re all familiar with how the “race card” can be played today by unscrupulous members of ethnic minorities.  Indeed I recall a Nigerian IT contractor in one job, who had consistently refused to do what he was told and kept interfering with an important computer system.  My boss of the time, a very diffident and somewhat leftist man, had no choice other than to sack him and have him escorted off site, or else be sacked himself.  The security staff arrived to march the Nigerian to the exit; whereupon the latter suddenly discovered that he was a victim of “racism”, and shouted this claim all the way to the gate.   It was a false claim, but one that gave him power.  Sadly for him his misconduct was inarguable.

Likewise anybody who has read the History of the Coptic Patriarchs of Alexandria will recognise how disputes between individuals often led to one side claiming to be Moslems in order to bring down the state on their foes.

It seems that, when equality before the law is lost, when the rulers of a state privilege some group on ideological grounds, non-members of that group will continually endure injustice on all sorts of occasions from the unscrupulous.  Clearly something similar prevailed in the 6th century in Alexandria.

Did Paralios really convert at Menouthis?  The story indicates that there was only his word for it.  I suspect that we may reasonably doubt it; and we may reasonably suppose that he merely claimed this later.   Probably he was still vacillating when he came back to Alexandria, but was very annoyed with the shrine at Menouthis and its supporters.  On this theory, once in a dispute with his fellow pagans that he was going to lose, the lure of the “Christian card” was too strong to resist.  It would take a man of more principle, than Paralios then was, not to use it while being beaten up!

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Hiring someone to type up an edition of al-Makin from a couple of manuscripts

One of the great problems with accessing the history written by the Coptic Christian writer al-Makin ibn-Amid (13th century) is that you have to deal with manuscripts.

I’ve been toying with the idea of getting a manuscript typed up.  After all, that would mean we could use Google Translate to at least get the gist of what is being said.  If I could place a free text online, it would probably help a lot.

So the thing to do, obviously, is get hold of a couple of manuscripts and get someone to type them up.  How hard can it be?

I already have a PDF of a British Library manuscript of the second half of the work.

This evening I have struggled through the French National Library site, creating an account and requesting an estimate for two microfilms.  The site is a nightmare, even though my French is quite good, and I have probably spent an hour so far.

A correspondent has found a typist in Egypt for me.  I have asked him for advice on how best to send money, and we’ll start with the British Library manuscript while I wait for the French to get back from holiday.  I don’t actually know whether to start at the back or the front of the PDF!  I think it would be wise to do it in chunks, and I don’t know if someone in Egypt could download a 300 mb file anyway!  So … cross your fingers for me.  Let’s see if it works!

Of course the output won’t be a critical edition.  But so what?  The professional scholars aren’t showing any signs of producing any edition whatsoever.  Let’s take the first step.

I bet subsequent scholars will complain bitterly about my “vulgate” text, tho!

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The Life of Severus of Antioch – part 3

From the Life of Severus of Antioch (6th c. AD), as written by Zacharias Rhetor:

Shortly afterwards occurred the events relating to Paralios and Horapollon the grammarian, from which we learn that he [Severus] who has been slandered, contrary to the divine laws, is innocent of the slanders of his infamous slanderer.  Here’s what was the origin of these events.

Paralios was from Aphrodisias, which is the metropolis of Caria.  He had three brothers, two of whom were engaged in idolatry and appeased the evil demons by invocations, sacrifices, incantations and by the arts of magicians; and the third, Athanasius, a man of God, had embraced the monastic life at Alexandria, in the convent called Enaton, at the same time as the illustrious Stephen.

After his early education, during which he studied civil law in Phoenicia, Athanasius went to Alexandria on business.  There he met Stephen, who I have just mentioned, who since childhood had been animated with an ardent piety and was exercising the functions of a sophist, i.e. a teacher, and he saw fit to reject, along with him, the pointless hopes of the bar.  As by a sign from God, each of them received the yoke of the true philosophy from the hand of the great Salomon, at this period the superior of those who cultivated philosophy in the convent in question.  He was a man of sound mind who was distinguished by the virtues of the monastic life.

Paralios, after being raised as a pagan in his own country by his two other brothers, went to Alexandria with the desire to learn grammar.  Before his departure, his brothers had strongly recommended him not to to speak a word to the aforementioned Athanasius.  So he went to the grammarian Horapollon.  The latter knew his art in a remarkable way, and his teaching was praiseworthy; but he was of the pagan religion, and full of admiration for demons and magic.  In engaging with Horapollon, the paganism of Paralios deepened further; along with his master, he was determined to offer sacrifices to idols.  At length Paralios, overcome by natural feelings, burned with the desire to finally see his brother Athanasius.  So he went to the monastery of Salomon, and was captivated by the holy pair, Stephen and Athanasius.  With the help of God’s spirit they easily overcame the numerous pagan objections and questions which they heard Paralios make.

Stephen was indeed very wise, and well aware of both the divine teachings and of encyclopediac knowledge.  After reading numerous treatises by the doctors of the church, who combatted the pagans, he had received from God the grace to triumph over them entirely, talking with them; and his zeal for religion made him seem like the great Elijah.  So he refuted the sophistical objections that the pagans made to the Christians, and then he retorted on Paralios the sleaziness of the pagans, the infamous mysteries of their gods, the lying oracles of polytheism, the obscure and shifty responses of their gods, their ignorance of the future, and other demonic deceptions.  He persuaded Paralios to submit some doubts of this kind to Horapollon, Heraiskus, Asclepiodotus, Ammonius, Isidore, and to the other philosophers who were with them; and then to weigh in a just balance what was said on both sides.  For many days Paralios had conversations on this subject with the pagans, and he found their responses feeble and unfounded.  He then produced a fact which deserves to be remembered and written down.

Asclepiodotus of Alexandria, who was involved with enchantments, practiced magic, made demoniac invocations, and who had thus commanded the admiration of the pagans for his philosophy, had agreed with his namesake (= Asclepiodotus), who at that time boasted of honours and dignities given to him by the king, and who held the first place in the senate of Aphrodisias, to give him his daughter in marriage.  He lived a long time in Caria with his wife, and wished to have children.  But his wish was not fulfilled, God inflicting on him as punishment, because he was involved with the evil practices of magic, the loss of his children and the sterility of his wife.  Since his father-in-law was  upset that his daughter had no children, our philosopher imagined an oracle (or perhaps he was tricked by the demon represented by Isis), according to which the goddess promised him children, if he went with his wife into the temple which this goddess had at Menouthis, a village fourteen miles from Alexandria, and near to the [locality] called Canopus.  So he persuaded his father-in-law to allow him to take his wife and go with her to this place.  He had promised his father-in-law to return home with his wife and the child she would have, but Asclepiodotus (of Alexandria) went to Alexandria, having deceived his namesake (= Asclepiodotus of Caria).

He stayed at Menouthis for some time, and offered a considerable number of sacrifices to demons.  But this achieved nothing.  The sterility of his wife persisted there too.  Having believed that he had seen Isis lying next to him, he heard those,  who interpreted dreams there, and who served the demon represented by Isis, say that he must join himself to the idol of the goddess, and then join himself with his wife; thus a child would be born to him.  Our philosopher believed this pretty crude deception, as the priest who had advised him from the start came back again, and he joined himself to the stone which represented Isis, and then, after the stone, to his wife.

Despite this, she remained sterile.  Then the priest advised him to go with only his wife to the village of Astu, to remain there some time, and then to take as his child one who had been born from the priestess, a compatriot of his, a short time earlier.  Because the gods and the fates, he said extravagantly, wanted him to do so.  Asclepiodotus likewise followed this advice, went with his wife, without anyone else accompanying them, to the mother of this child.  He gave her a certain amount of money, and took her child.  Then he returned to Alexandria, boasting that a sterile woman had given birth after all this time.  In consequence all those who were involved in the folly of the pagans boasted greatly about this fable, as if it was true, and praised Isis, and Menouthis, the village of the goddess, where someone doing a good deed had buried the temple of Isis under the sand, to the point where not a trace of it could be seen.

Fascinating stuff!

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From my diary

‘Twas Christmas Eve in the workhouse …  and I’m still busy even as late as this.

I’ve been reading John Carey’s “Down with dons” (PDF) with great enjoyment this evening.  Written in 1975, it accurately predicts many of the disasters of the coming decades.  I love the way that it depicts the Oxford University establishment.  Indeed I shall think of his words every time I get a copy of the dismal university magazine, “Oxford Today”, replete as it is with self-satisfaction and infantile “rebelliousness” from some of the most establishment people in the land.  I need to remember to write to him and thank him for making the article available online.

I’ve also been taking a look at Metaphrastes’ (10th c.) Life of Nicholas of Myra — our Santa! — in the Patrologia Graeca edition, PG 116, 317-356.  This prints the Latin text of Surius against a Greek text from a manuscript.  The Latin is rather harder than the stuff I’ve been translating lately, and I don’t feel like straining my brains on Christmas Eve.  It opens with prologue, and, after a paragraph or two about our Nicholas’ upbringing, moves straight into the story of how he provided dowries for three girls otherwise to be forced into prostitution.  This fills quite a number of chapters.  Somewhat later Nicholas goes to the Holy Land; and then to the Council of Nicaea, where he opposes Arianism.  I didn’t see any mention of him thumping Arius, however, and the account is only a single chapter.  I found myself wondering … why has nobody translated this into English?

One of the sources for Santa suggested that a lot was borrowed from the 6th century Nicholas of Sion.  This Nicholas is mentioned as a contemporary of Nicholas of Myra in Metaphrastes’ Life, I note.  I went to look for the English translation of this.  Then I swallowed hard; the price was eye-watering!  Maybe not yet.

Today Amazon decided suddenly that I had earned a gift card.  It was only a few dollars, and only usable at Amazon.com, rather than Amazon.co.uk which I must presently prefer.  I found that I had a previous gift card also sitting there, unused.  A letter from the library informed me that Berger’s English translation of the Patria – medieval accounts – of Constantinople could not be borrowed by inter-library loan, as it was only published in November this year.  I decided, therefore, to use the Amazon.com funds and buy it, and have it shipped to the UK.  Doubtless it will arrive sometime next year, if the seas remain calm.  No rush.

On the Mithras site, I had my first troll today.  A munchkin turned up, informing me that Mithras had pre-Roman roots.  He didn’t justify his statement of course, but it was enough to cause me to add a couple of sections to the FAQ, and politely inform him otherwise.  His response was to down-vote my reply – imprudent of him – and to post a link to a strange and very ignorant web-page, at Counter-Punch.org, here, entitled “Happy Birthday Mithras!”.  He also posted a two-word insult on another page, and earned his blacklisting on Discus in one easy click of the mouse.

The “Counter-punch” page is full of crude mistakes of fact, yet professes to be written by a certain Gary Leupp, “Professor of History at Tufts University, and Adjunct Professor of Comparative Religion.”  But it reads like the production of a student.  I feel an obligation to the reputation of the academy, and so I have drafted an email to Dr Leupp, whom I find does exist, if not with that role, querying whether he has been the victim of identity theft.  It’s not an easy email to draft, of course; for all I know he may really be the author, six years ago!  Not so easy to tell someone that their academic reputation is endorsing a bunch of obscurantist nonsense.  Anyway I have tried.

On twitter I have been following the misadventures of Dr Sophia Hay, who has been attempting to travel from Rome to London for the last two days, and hasn’t slept in that time.  The flight was diverted last night to Amsterdam, and when she finally arrived at Gatwick airport, the British authorities had conveniently decided not to run any trains or buses from the airport into London, thereby stranding all the passengers in the wilds of Surrey.  Doubtless the richly rewarded officials are safe at home, and the job they are paid to do can go hang.  “If it feels good, do it” was the slogan of the current generation, and the inevitable selfishness and indifference to others riddles British society.  So it will be a profitable night for the taxi firms; but hardly a stress-free one for driver or passengers.

It’s Christmas Eve.  I want to translate some more of Severus of Antioch.  Maybe I will.  But maybe there is something on the television.  Although this is less likely, it must be said.

Yesterday British Telecom did a repair to one of my telephone sockets.  For reasons best known to himself, he also interfered with the main socket through which my broadband runs.  It has been falling out every quarter of an hour since.

Maybe I will hit “post” now, while I am ahead.

It’s Christmas Eve.  Let us think of those less fortunate than ourselves.  The permissive society has left an awful lot of people sitting alone at home tonight.  Some will be sitting there with a bottle, holding back the loneliness.  Shortage of money is rife in many households too.  These may be divorced, whose loneliness has been contrived by successive pieces of “progressive” legislation, or just the unwed, of whom there seem to be a very large number.

Bookish folks like us can’t do much for these people.  But Christian folk can pray for any known to us.  If you know someone like that, pray for them now.  Pray against the isolation, that they may feel something of the spirit of Christmas; of the Light of the World.

If anyone is reading this, in this situation, here’s a thought.  Maybe a local church is running a midnight service?  It will probably be on Google, if it is.  Maybe it might be fun to go there and get a mince-pie afterwards, even if they don’t know anyone?

Enough.  I feel a definite need to swig a diet coke and watch the news for a bit.  Maybe I’ll be back later!

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A new Claudio Zamagni article on Eusebius’ Gospel problems and solutions

Claudio Zamagni has written to tell me that a new article of his is online at Academia.edu here.  It discusses the difficult question of the manuscripts of the fragments of Eusebius of Caesarea’s Gospel problems and solutions (Quaestiones ad Stephanum et Marinum).  It’s excellent stuff, as ever with Dr Z., and highly recommended.

This holiday I’m going to look at the sales of the Eusebius book and see if we have reached the point at which we can start to place material on the web on open access.  I believe that sales have been dropping for some time, but I won’t know until I review the sales statistics.

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Ancient literary sources for St Nicholas of Myra

It is Christmas Eve, and so what better time to ask the question: what, if anything, does the historical record tell us about a supposed 4th century bishop of Myra named Nicholas?

Every Christmas there is a flood of articles in the press and online about the origins of “Santa Claus”.  It is a curious reflection on our society, however, that these consist entirely of unreferenced hearsay.

I’d like to make a small difference this Christmas.  For some this means feeding the homeless and other useful things.  We book-lovers can’t do that kind of work; but here’s something we can do.

Let’s begin the process of collecting whatever primary sources there might be.  I am conscious that I probably don’t have the right reference literature.  I don’t know my way around the hagiographical texts.  So this can only be a first effort at the problem, and I intend to highlight my ignorance!  Feel free to contribute.  What we want here, surely, is primary sources.[1]

If there was such a person as Nicholas, bishop of Myra, during the time of Constantine, he left no literary works behind him.  Quasten’s Patrology for the period does not even mention him.

There are various lists in circulation, of various dates, of the bishops who attended the First Council of Nicaea.  Some of them supposedly include a Nicholas of Myra.  I have not seen any indication of which ones, however.

The orations of 5th century bishop Proclus of Constantinople[2] are supposed to contain a sermon praising Nicholas.  This item is listed in the CPG 5890, Laudatio S. Nicolai, but among the spuria.  It is BHG 13640, incipit: Adelfoi/ mou~, pate/rej kai\ te/kna. A text is offered: G. Anrich, Hagios Nikolaos I, Leipzig, 1913, 429-433.  This seems to be at Google Books here, but I cannot access it.  Apparently it denies that the text is really by Proclus; but as I say, I can’t look and see.  If anyone can, please let me know.

In the 6th century Procopius, De aedificiis book 1, chapter 6 (at Lacus Curtius), tells us that Justinian constructed a church in his honour:

Further on he established a shrine to St. Priscus and St. Nicholas, an entirely new creation of his own, at a spot where the Byzantines love especially to tarry, some worshipping and doing honour to these saints who have come to dwell among them, and others simply enjoying the charm of the precinct, since the Emperor forced back the wash of the sea and set the foundations far out into the water when he established this sanctuary.[3]

I don’t know enough hagiography to know if this really does refer to Nicholas of Myra.  It sounds like a pair of linked saints, however.

Our next port of call is the Bibliotheca Hagiographica Graecorum (BHG), vol. 2, p.139-151, nn. 1347-64 n.  This tells us the following:

  • BHG 1347: A Vita exists, published by Anrich (p.3-55), but previously by N.C. Falconius Sancti Nicolai … acta primigenia, Neapoli, 1751, 1-29. (Falconius is online here).
  • BHG 1348:  A second Vita per Michaelem, by Michael the Archimandrite (or by Methodius, bishop of Patar.), is again in Falconius 39-55, and Anrich.
  • BHG 1348b:  Another vita praemetaphrastica, of which the start is lost, and only part of it appears in Anrich.

Following this, there are several pages listing material.

Returning to Jones, however, I learn that 4 vitae originating in the 9th-10th century are known; the vita per Michaelem (start of 9th c.), “an epistolary composition, Methodius ad Theodorum (842×6)”, a Latin vita and miracles by John, a deacon of Naples (3rd quarter of the 9th c.; the Legenda aurea of James of Voragine, d. 1298, is based on this version), and a vita by Simon Metaphrastes (second half of 10th c.).

11 chapters of the Vita per Michaelem exists in English here.  The site states:

John Quinn, professor of classical languages, Hope College, Holland, Michigan, was doing the first English translation of the text for us when he suddenly and unexpectedly died while out jogging on June 19, 2008. His as yet unfinished translation is offered as a memorial to his work.

They add:

When an appropriate and willing scholar is found the translation will be completed.

I feel that somebody ought to do this.  It serves the interests of everyone to do so.  I suspect Anrich’s book — what a nuisance that this is inaccessible! — is the text used.

The Methodius ad Theodorum is BHG 1352y, and appears only in Anrich vol. 1, 140-150 and again in vol. 2 546-556.

Doubtless the Latin of John of Naples is to be found in the BHL, but I have no access to this.

The Metaphrastes version is BHG 1349, and may be found in Falconius p.86-108 and Anrich, and also in the PG 116, 317-356.  This last makes it very accessible.

I think that’s enough for the moment.

What we now need, I would have thought, is some translations of some of these; and some evaluations of them.  Unfortunately I have been unable to access either Anrich or Falconius!  It seems likely that Anrich will contain commentary.  How infuriating that a 1913 book is inaccessible, a century after publication!

Postscript: I have discovered that Anrich is at Hathi trust here; but only for US readers.

UPDATE: I have now managed to access the Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church[4].  This tells me (p.1148):

[Tradition says he] was present at the Council of Nicaea. The latter supposition is most improbable, as he is not in any of the early lists of bishops present at the Council. The earliest evidence for his cult at Myra is found in the contemporary Life of
St Nicholas of Sion, who lived in the reign of the Emp. Justinian (d. 565). Episodes from the Life of St Nicholas of Sion were later transferred to the Life of his namesake.
Justinian himself built a church in Constantinople dedicated to St Priscus and St Nicholas.

The Life of St Nicholas of Sion is ed., with Eng. tr., by I. and N.P. Sevcenko (The Archbishop Iakovos Library of Ecclesiastical and Historical Sources, 10; Brookline, Mass. [1984]).

Perhaps we need to look at Nicholas of Sion next.

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  1. [1]A valuable secondary source pointing to the literature is Graham Jones, “St Nicholas, Icon of mercantile virtues: transition and continuity of a European myth,” in Myths of Europe (ed. Richard Littlejohns), 2007, 73-88; 75.
  2. [2]Listed in the Clavis Patrum Graecorum vol. 3, entry 5800 and on.
  3. [3]I obtained this reference from the otherwise useless entry in W.Smith and H. Wace, Dictionary of Christian Biography, vol. 4, 1887, p.41.  This does tell us that his “saints’ day” is December 6; important for looking up material.  The other reference is to “Surii Hist. Sant.”; I have had no luck with this yet.
  4. [4]3rd edition, 1997.

Proof-reader wanted

This morning, to my considerable surprise, the proof copy of Ancient Texts in Translation 2 — Origen of Alexandria: Exegetical works on Ezekiel — arrived on my doorstep.  My surprise was because I do my proof copies through lulu.com, and I only uploaded the PDF to the site on 18th December.  Six days to print it and deliver it is pretty impressive!  It’s actually taken more time for Neilsen, the ISBN bureau, to add the details to their database (which they still have yet to do properly).

There are quite a few typographical errors — mostly the wrong font being used at various points, etc — which will need fixing.

But I am conscious that I have seen this text rather too many times.  I wonder if anyone would care to help the project along by proof-reading a printed copy and sending in corrections?  I can offer a free copy of the final hardback volume as payment, if that would help.

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How not to do scholarship – the perils of studying those we disagree with

I trained as a scientist.  Like all scientists, I despised scholars.  I thought that they were just people decorating their prejudices with the results of a library search.  Given time, we all knew, we could do as well or better.  Inspecting the occasional volume of what was sold in Blackwell’s bookshop as “Biblical Scholarship” did nothing to convince me otherwise.

It was only the encounter with Timothy Barnes Tertullian: a literary and historical study[1] that presented me with a piece of real scholarship; something that I knew that I could not have written, however long I spent in the library.  To read it is a liberal education.  To follow the approach taken is to learn something about what it means to try to determine the facts about the events of past times.  Everything that I have ever done since has been influenced by it.

What I had seen, what we had all despised, was not scholarship as such.  Rather it was — and is — bad scholarship.  What made it bad was the contamination of outside factors, and the failure of those who wrote it to maintain an intellectual Chinese wall between data and opinion.  I have seen more of this since.

The mind of a scholar is influenced by many things, most of which he needs to exclude from his thought when practising his trade.  Most obviously, a scholar is influenced primarily by the culture in which he lives.  This is unavoidable.  He is also influenced by the political or religious opinions by which he actually lives his life, especially if these are in tune with the prevailing culture.   The opinions may not be the same as those he professes verbally, of course; but even here, the cultural demand for constant verbal repetition of an opinion will have an effect on the one doing it, as the Chinese brainwashers of Mao Tse-Tung knew very well.

We see the consequence of this in older scholarly literature.  Sometimes a splendid piece of scholarly work is followed by some stale genuflection to some contemporary shibboleth or controversy.  Sometimes a then-dull piece of opinion dressed up as scholarship may today provide a valuable piece of evidence as to the attitudes in vogue and determining the conclusions of “scholarship” at the time.  For, in any controversial subject, the “consensus of scholars” tends, quite naturally, to reflect the opinions of those controlling university appointments in that country at the time in question.

There are other risks for the scholar who also teaches.  Being surrounded constantly by students means a constant position of superiority of information, and often of intellect.  It is terribly easy to become self-important, and to lose touch with reality, and to write twaddle in consequence.

This is no new thought: John Carey famously observed in 1975 in Down with Dons.[2]

From the viewpoint of non-dons, probably the most obnoxious thing about dons is their uppishness. Of course, many dons are quite tolerable people. But if you ask a layman to imagine a don the idea will come into his head of something with a loud, affected voice, airing its knowledge, and as anyone who has lived much among dons will testify, this picture has a fair degree of accuracy. The reasons are not far to seek. For one thing, knowledge – and, in the main, useless knowledge – is the don’s raison d’être. For another, he spends his working life in the company of young people who, though highly gifted, can be counted on to know less than he does. Such conditions might warp the humblest after a while, and dons are seldom humble even in their early years. Overgrown schoolboy professors, they are likely to acquire, from parents and pedagogues, a high opinion of their own abilities. By the time they are fully fledged this sense of their intellectual superiority will have gone very deep and, because of the snob value attached to learning and the older universities, it will almost certainly issue in a sense of social superiority as well. …

In the end I attributed it to the insulating effect of donnish uppishness. Years of self-esteem had, as it were, blinded the Professor to his true economic value. Bumptiousness and insolence are the quite natural outcome of such a condition …

We are not concerned here with the moral state of such scholars.  What we need to think about is whether such foolishness will affect their scholarly work.

It is difficult to imagine that it cannot.  A man accustomed to thinking himself a jolly clever chap is not likely to cultivate the self-distrust necessary to avoid anachronism, to avoid imposing himself, his judgements, his attitudes, on to a world far different in almost every respect.

These opinions and judgements, as we have seen, are not primarily scholarly.  They are the product of the environment in which the scholar operates.  The cleverer we think we are, the more certain it is that we will fail to recognise that, where antiquity is concerned, we are ignorant dumb clucks who don’t know the sort of things that the lowliest and stupidest ancient slave took for granted.  The more bumptious we are, the less likely it is that our conclusions will be correct, or that our work will have permanent value.

There is a further pitfall in store for the unwary academic.  By chance I encountered an example of it on twitter last night.  Here is the tweet that raised my eyebrows:

I don’t intend to pillory the author – otherwise unknown to me – but if I understand him correctly, it is a useful example of where scholarship can go off the rails.

For, on the face of it, isn’t it a very odd statement?  That we don’t care about the truth of what we read?  Is “patristics” important, if it doesn’t matter to us whether anything said by any patristic writer is true?  Indeed let us generalise!  Is any intellectual movement important, if it doesn’t matter to us what they said except as footnotes for the history of thought?  Do we really not care whether something said is right or wrong?  When the early socialists were grappling with the problem of anarchism, do we not care whether they made the right or wrong decision, but only about “how socialist beliefs evolved”?   Or let us look at Cicero’s De officiis, book 3, chapter 12:

12.  Let it be set down as an established principle, then, that what is morally wrong can never be expedient — not even when one secures by means of it that which one thinks expedient; for the mere act of thinking a course expedient, when it is morally wrong, is demoralizing.

But, as I said above, cases often arise in which expediency may seem to clash with moral rectitude; and so we should examine carefully and see whether their conflict is inevitable or whether they may be reconciled.

The following are problems of this sort: suppose, for example, a time of dearth and famine at Rhodes, with provisions at fabulous prices; and suppose that an honest man has imported a large cargo of grain from Alexandria and that to his certain knowledge also several other importers have set sail from Alexandria, and that on the voyage he has sighted their vessels laden with grain and bound for Rhodes; is he to report the fact to the Rhodians or is he to keep his own counsel and sell his own stock at the highest market price?

I am assuming the case of a virtuous, upright man, and I am raising the question how a man would think and reason who would not conceal the facts from the Rhodians if he thought that it was immoral to do so, but who might be in doubt whether such silence would really be immoral.

Cicero asks a very real, and very contemporary question!  (The link to the full text will provide some answers.)  But would we make of a scholar who believes the answer to this is unimportant, and instead treats the writer only as “important for the understanding of the evolution of philosophical teaching”?

It’s a remarkably patronising position to take towards any object of study, surely?  It means that we, glorious us, are placing ourselves far above the object of our study.  Implicit in all of this is contempt for the people we are studying, and anything that they have to say.    Nothing they say matters, except insofar as their remarks help us to advance our own thesis about the “evolution of beliefs”.

This comes about naturally if we start to spend our days studying people whom we disagree with, however mildly.  It is a trap that the unwary scholar can easily fall into.

For these people are under our microscope.  We are the scholar, they are merely material!  First we will tend to look down on them, naturally, for being wrong.  Then we will tend to pin them on cards, like butterflies.  Then we will lose any ability to consider whether what they have to say is correct or not.  At which point, obviously, we have lost all power to produce any kind of balanced assessment of the men and their work.

It is probably difficult to avoid this attitude, when studying some long-dead movement.  But I find that scholars who do study these movements don’t take that attitude.  They seek to find importance in what these movements had to say, to connect them, somehow, with the living world.  When we find this attitude directed, as here, towards a major modern intellectual movement, then the red flags must go on.   We’re not doing scholarship, if we write as if those alive today with whom we disagree don’t deserve a hearing, but are merely insects under our “scholarly” microscope.  This is polemic.

Hate is a powerful force.  Hate-literature is the most depressing of human writings, because the writers have lost their balance.  They can see nothing except the follies of their subject, and their study through that lens magnifies every pimple and defect to enormous proportions, when a more normal perception would see nothing.

It is hazardous to us all, to spend much time disagreeing with people.  To remain balanced, we must love what we study.  The peril of over-enthusiasm may be corrected by more study; but over-scepticism is always reinforced by it.

Study what you love, and listen to those you study.  To decide that we need not listen to our subjects will rot our brains, and prevent us ever writing anything worthwhile about them.

UPDATE: I’ve decided that the name of the author of the tweet is irrelevant, and removed it. I don’t, after all, know whether he intended that which I understand him to say, and let us by all means suppose a misunderstanding.  The point is a general one.

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  1. [1]Oxford, 1971, reprinted with important additions in 1985.
  2. [2]1975. Online here. (PDF)

The Life of Severus of Antioch – part 2

We continue from the Life of Severus of Antioch by Zacharias Rhetor.

The illustrious Severus is Pisidian in origin, and his home town is Sozopolis.  In fact it was this town that fell to him as his his home, after the first [birth], of which we have all  been banished following the transgression of Adam, and that the divine apostle invites us to do again.  Because here, he says, we have no continuing city, but we seek that one where we shall live one day, one where God is the architect and founder.  He was raised by distinguished parents, as those who knew them say.  They were descended from that Severus who was bishop of the town of Sozopolis at the period when the first council of Ephesus met against the impious Nestorius.  After the death of his father, who was one of the senate of the town, his widowed mother sent him with his two brothers, who were older than him, to Alexandria, to study grammar and rhetoric, both Greek and Latin.

The custom being established in his homeland, so it is said, not to come to holy baptism before middle age except when urgently necessary, it happened that Severus and his brothers were still only catechumens when they came to Alexandria, for the reason stated.  At that time I too was staying in the city for the same reason.  The three brothers went first to the sophist John, nicknamed Σημειογράφος (?), then to Sopater, who had a reputation for the art of rhetoric, as everybody spoke highly of him for this.  It happened that I was also frequenting the course of this master at that time, as well as Menas, of pious memory, whose orthodoxy, humility of life, great chastity, love of his fellow man, and sympathy for the poor were universally acknowledged.  He was in fact one of those who assiduously frequented the holy church, those whom the Alexandrians, following the custom of the country, were accustomed to call Philoponoi.

In the course of our studies, during our stay at Alexandria, we admired the subtlety of mind of the marvellous Severus, as well as his love of learning.  We were astonished to see how, in a short space of time, he learned to express himself with elegance, in applying himself assiduously to the study of the precepts of the ancient rhetors, and striving to imitate their brilliant and practised (?) style.  His mind was occupied with this, and not with that which usually attracts youth.  He devoted himself entirely to study, secluding himself in his zeal from every blameworthy spectacle.

Upset that such intelligence had yet to receive divine baptism, we counselled Severus to place opposite the discourses of the sophist Libanius, whom he admired as the equal of the ancient rhetors, those of Basil and Gregory, those illustrious bishops, and to compare them together.  We gave him this advice so that he  might come by way of rhetoric, which was dear to him, to their teaching and philosophy.  When Severus had come to know these writings, he was completely conquered by them.  He was immediately heard to eulogise the letters addressed by Basil to Libanius, and those which Libanius wrote in response, in which he admitted himself defeated by Basil and accorded the victory to the letters of the latter.  The result of this was that Severus plunged into reading the works and meditations of the illustrious Basil, and Menas my friend, who was admired by everyone for his fervour, declared in a prophecy, which events have confirmed (in fact Menas loved to do good), “This one (Severus) will shine among the bishops like St. John, to whom was given the helm of the holy Church of Constantinople.”  God, who alone knows the future, revealed these things about Severus, when he was still a young man, using here again the intermediary of a pious soul.

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The life of Severus of Antioch by Zacharias Rhetor – part 1

Tidying your desktop can be perilous.  I found a PDF with the French translation of the Vita of Severus of Antioch on mine.  I had forgotten how interesting a work this was.

I know that there is an English translation out there somewhere, but of course it is inaccessible to most of us.  So I feel no compunction in translating some of the French!

Here follows the biography of holy Mar Severus, patriarch of Antioch, which was written by Zacharias the Scholastic, who studied [grammar and rhetoric] along with Severus at Alexandria, and law at Beirut.

— Where are you coming from today, O friend and comrade?

— From the Royal Portico (=στοά), my dear chap.  I have come to see you to clarify some questions that I want to put to you.  In fact I have just been upset by a libel, which appears to have a Christian as its author, but who in reality seems rather to flout Christian teaching.

— And how is that?  Tell me all.  And how did you come to read this libel?

— I was looking at the books of the booksellers who are set up at the Royal Portico — hey, you know my passion for books! — when one of those who was sitting there and selling books gave me the libel in question to read.  In this book a philosopher is defamed, slandered, jeered at and abused.  You knew him at the start of his career.  He has since distinguished himself in the episcopate and is outstanding even now by his conduct and learning of the holy scriptures.  I mean Severus, whose reputation is great among those who appreciate the good without bias.  And that’s why I feel cruelly afflicted.

— But my friend, if you have so good an opinion of Severus, why do you worry about his slanderer and defamer, whoever he may be?  It seems, in fact, from what you say, that he is only a Christian in form, and by hypocrisy, that in reality he has taken on the task instead of glorifying the pagans, and aspires only to cover them with praise, insulting the kind of people who are valued for their virtue and to whom it has been given to serve God for so many years already by this beautiful philosophy which they have shown us.

— It is not because doubt has come over me, or because I have given credence to stories made up out of malevolence, that I have come to you today.  No! But I feel afflicted, as I said.  I am afraid that readers of a simple spirit may by mischance acquire a negative opinion of the patriarch.  Also, if you really want to know — and you do — please tell me the life of Severus since his young, for the glory of God Almighty and of our saviour Jesus Christ, in whom rest those who are dedicated to the priesthood and to philosophy; I mean the true philosophy.  Please tell me from what city he was, of what people, of what family, if you do actually know these details.   Please tell me above all about his conduct, and what have been his opinions on God since his youth.  Because the slanderer has attacked him not only for his life, and his conduct, but also because, at the start of his career, he worshipped malevolent demons and idols.  In fact he said, “He was also caught offering pagan sacrifices, in Phoenicia, at the time when he was studying literature and the law.”

— But if someone defames the life of another, collecting futile and false stories about him, we must not worry about this, unless what is said contains an element of truth.  For the wicked demons and their friends slander easily the conduct of those who have conquered in virtue.  We mustn’t be astonished if the servants of Christ, God of the universe, are treated like Satans by Satan, since, when the efficient and creative cause of all things had come among us, he caused the Jews to blaspheme and to say, “It is by Beelzebub, prince of demons, that he expelled the demon.”  However, since you have told me that you believe that this libel may harm some simple souls, I will, out of respect for truth and love for you, recount the life of Severus, with whom I was, in his first youth, at Alexandria and in Phoenicia, hearing the same masters as him and sharing the same occupations.  Those who studied with us and are still alive — their number is very considerable — can attest the truth of my narrative.

We need not take this literary frame too seriously.  But Severus was an active figure in the controversies of the late 5th and 6th century, and there can be little doubt that his enemies used the pleasant methods of Byzantine controversy to undermine him by means of personal accusations.

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