The sun as a child at the winter solstice

Posted on by Roger Pearse

I’ve been reading the article in which Franz Boll published the calendar of Antiochus of Athens, with special reference to the entry on 25th December.

It is good to have a publication of the calendar, although the lack of a translation for the Greek is irksome.  But I haven’t read many articles which are less satisfactory when it came to discussing this particular entry.  It waffles.  It wanders.  It suggests.  But the logic is tenuous.

Boll is keen to suggest that the calendar is Egyptian in origin.  This he fails to show adequately, as far as I can make out.  The most I can find is an assertion that the dates given to various astronomical phenomena require that it was composed in Alexandria.  He also asserts that there are commonalities with the calendar of Ptolemy; but of course any astrological calendar is likely to have certain similarities — they all deal with the stars, after all.

Let’s look at an extract of the calendar for December:

κβ’. τροπὲ χειμερινὴ.
κγ’. Προκύων ἑῷος δύνει.
κε’. Ἡλίου γενέθλιον · αὔξει φῶς.

The first entry (for the 22nd) tells us that it is the winter solstice.  The 23rd relates to the star Procyon, and the last entry for the 25th reads “Birthday of the sun: the light increases”.  The solstice entry is apparently also found in the calendar of Ptolemy, but not the birthday of the sun. 

Why are there two entries?  I.e. why is the day of the sun later than the solstice?  This is explained by Julian the Apostate, in his Oration 4, whom I quoted at more length here:

 And that our forefathers, because they comprehended this correctly, thus established the beginning of the year, one may perceive from the following. For it was not, I think, the time when the god turns, but the time when he becomes visible to all men, as he travels from south to north,that they appointed for the festival. For still unknown to them was the nicety of those laws which the Chaldaeans and Egyptians discovered, and which Hipparchus and Ptolemy perfected : but they judged simply by sense-perception, and were limited to what they could actually see. 

The idea that 25 Dec. is the “new sun” is found in Latin sources as we have seen in the past.  Boll references

Pliny NH 18, 221; Columella I, 9; Servius, Aen. 7, 720.  (Proprie sol novus est VIII. Kal. Jan.)

But he also mentions something which is new to me:

Greek and Roman writers tell us about something called the Egyptian doctrine, according to which the sun appears on the Winter solstice like a child, at the spring equinox as a youth, at the summer solstice as a man and in the autumn the same as an old man. The well-known witness, already cited by Th. Gale in Iamblichos de mysteriis p. 289, is Macrobius in his solar theology, in Saturnalia I 1 &, 9:

item Liberi patris simulacra partim puerili aetate partim iuvenis fingunt.  praeterea barbata specie, seniIi quoque . . . hae autem aetatum diversitates ad Solem referuntur, ut parvulus qualem Aegyptii proferunf ex adyto die certa, quod tunc brevissimo die veluti parvus et infans videatur. exinde autem procedentibus augmentis (vgl.  αὔξει φῶς here in Antiochus and in Catal. codd. astr. I 144, 13) aequinoctio vernali similiter atque adulescentis adipiscitur vires figuraque iuvenis ornatur. postea statuitur eius aetas plenissima effigie barbae solstitio aestivo quo tempore summum sui consequitur augmentum. exinde per diminutiones veluti senescentis quarta formum deus figuratur.

The “solar theology” is a speech by Praetextatus in book 1.  I wish I had the English translation of Macrobius to hand, so I could give a translation here.  But he is making the point that when the days are shortest, the sun seems small and like an infant; likewise at the spring equinox like a youth, at the summer solstice as a grown man.  Then by dimunition it becomes an old man.

Boll would like us to associate this with his calendar entry.

But is Macrobius telling us about the same thing?  There is also the issue that Macrobius writes very late indeed, after the fall of paganism at the end of the 4th century.  His paganism would seem to be influenced by the prevailing monotheism of Christianity, when he asserts that all the gods are merely aspects of a single deity, the sun god.  Considering the Christian polemic against the multitude of provincial gods, such a rationalisation was inevitable.  But it can’t be used as evidence of earlier pagan views, I would have thought.

He then writes at some length speculative material about the possibility that Antiochus is basing his entry for 25 Dec. on an ancient Egyptian source.  From the idea that “birth of the sun”, he goes on to say:

Brugsch, who follows Jablonski Panth. Aegypt. lib. II cap. VI, p. 254 on the first place, suggests that these ideas are really Egyptian in origin, and, the monuments of the latest periods of Egyptian history at least very clearly represent the sun at the time of the winter solstice under the name of the child sun, at the Spring time as a “boy” or “youth”, during the summer solstice as “the great (adult) Sun” and at sunset as “the old man.” In an inscription (22) the “new born Sun” is mentioned, and in two others (23) as the “little sun”. (24)

The tenuous connection of this with the calendar will be immediately apparent!  But the idea is interesting, and I spent some time trying to work out what the references were, and looking at them.  One advantage of Boll’s work is that it is so old that his references are all online.

Brugsch, thus, is H. Brugsch, Die Ägyptologie  (p.327), who writes:

Den 12 Sonnenbildern in den 12 Stunden des Tages verlieh man in der ptolemäisch-römischen Epoche eigenthumliche Bildersymbole in Gestalten von Göttern oder heiligen Thieren (s. Thes. S. 57). wobei die Sonne in der Frühe der ersten Stunde als neugeborenes Kind (Harphrad) in einer Scheibe erscheint. Die den einzelnen Verzeichnissen beigeschriebenen Namen (s. Thes. 58) benennen die Sonne der ersten Tagesstunde das Kind (nhn), der 3. den Knaben, Jüngling (hwn), der 12. den Greis (nhh wer). Die Vergleichung der zunehmenden und abnehmenden Sonne mit den Lebensaltern des Menschen tritt auch inschriftlich gelegentlich hervor.  In einem der Texte von Dendera (Thes. 55) heisst es von dem Sonnengotte: „ein Kind in der Frühe, ein Jungling zur Mittagszeit … ist er Gott ‚Atum am Abend“.  Statt des ‚Atum-Names findet sich als Variante eines der agyptischen Wörter zur Bezeichnung eines greisen Mannes (Thes. S. 511).

The 12 solar images in the 12 hours of the day in the Ptolemaic and Roman era became special symbols in depictions of gods or sacred animals (see Thes. p. 57), where the sun appears in the morning of the first hour as a newborn child (Harphrad) on a disk. The various lists (see Thes. 58) name the sun at the first hour of the day the “child” (nhn), in the 3rd “boy, young man” (hwn), in the 12th “old man” (nhh wer).  The comparison of increasing and decreasing sun with the ages of man also occurs occasionally in earlier inscriptions. In one of the texts of Dendera (Thes. 55) it is said of the sun god: “a child in the morning, a young man for lunch … he is god, Atum in the evening “. Instead of the ‘Atum-name found as a variant of the Egyptian words for the description of an old man (Thes. p. 511).

‘Thes.’ is his own Thesaurus, a publication of inscriptions, for Brugsch was one of the early genuine Egyptologists.  So we’re dealing with some real sources here.

Boll also mentions:

The famous oracle of the Clarian Apollo that Macrobius cites Sat. I 18, 20 from Cornelius Labeos’ book de Oraculo Apollinis Clarii, mentions four names of gods that seem to befrom the the same association of ideas out for the four figures of Helios set in the season when it also is contrary to the Jewish God.

Jablonski Pantheon Aegyptiorum lib. II cap. VI, p. 254 (p.254 in the PDF) is also online, in Latin, and dates to the 18th century!  It is in Latin.  Fortunately there is a lengthy translation into English of a chunk of it in John William Colenso, The Pentateuch and Book of Joshua (1865). p.305.  Appendix III, translated and abridged.  The p.319 has a translation of the Pantheon Aeg. p.254.  P.305 of Colenso gives us the Oracle and a translation.  The Oracle of Apollo at Claros was asked who the god Iao was.  It replied:

It was right that those knowing should hide the ineffable orgies ; for in a little deceit there is prudence and an adroit mind. Explain that IAO is the Most High God of all,—in winter Aides, and Zeus in commencing spring, and Helios in summer, and at the end of autumn tender Iao.

The name appears in Gnostic texts, and in Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses, book 1.  There is speculation that it really represents the Jewish YHWH.

Using Colenso’s translation, we find that Jablonski treated this oracle as derived from gnostic sources, and “reconstructed” what he believed the “original” text of the gnostic oracle was.    This Brugsch treated in his next paragraph as if it was actually an ancient source — there are perils to writing in Latin! — and made the association with Harpocrates.  But this is just a misunderstanding.

What are we left with, that is solid and real, in all this sea of factoids strung together without much connection?

We learn that the calendar contains “birth of the new sun” on Dec. 25.  We learn that the four stages of the sun during the day was compared in Ancient Egyptian, and more commonly in Ptolemaic and Roman sources, to the four ages of man, one of which was the sun-as-child at dawn.  We are invited by Boll to presume the latter has some connection with the former. 

But the fallacy of “this looks like that, therefore this is connected to that, or even this is derived from that” is one we encounter all the time.  We must regard the connection as unevidenced.

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The Robert Schmidt translations of Roman astrological works

Posted on by Roger Pearse

There is a list of these translations here.  It is not at all obvious from the site, but these are still available for purchase. 

On the “Price list” page at Project Hindsight, right at the bottom, is the following statement:

Preliminary Translation Series (re-prints)

Retail Price: $45.00 per volume plus shipping

All of the titles listed under Hellenistic Track Translations as well as ABU MASHAR: ON SOLAR REVOLUTIONS, Part II are available as re-prints for $45 each. Note that ANONYMOUS OF 379: ON THE FIXED STARS and ANTIOCHUS OF ATHENS: FRAGMENTS FROM HIS THESAURUS were published as half volumes (Volume IIa and IIb), so their price is $25 each.

These prices are high, but are not fixed.  I was told copies were available at $30.

But I don’t really want to buy lots of paper books any more.  What I want are PDF’s.

I have written to the Warburg library in London, suggesting they obtain a set.  It’s worth a try!

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How to do a word search for all uses of Nazaraeus in Latin?

Posted on by Roger Pearse

I have a problem.  I want to know where and how Nazaraeus is used in Latin.  I know it can mean Nazirite; I want to see where it is used instead to mean “Nazarene”.

If this were Greek, I’d search the TLG.  Anyone know what I could use for Latin? 

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Vettius Valens now online in English

Posted on by Roger Pearse

Prof. Mark Riley has uploaded his translation of the 2nd century astrologer, Vettius Valens, to the web!  From his website:

Vettius Valens: Find a link here to a translation of Vettius Valens Anthologiai, the longest astrological text from Greco-Roman antiquity.

What you find here is a preliminary translation completed in the 1990’s and not perfected since. It is based on Wilhelm Kroll’s 1908 edition (page numbers of this edition are marked with bold-faced K in my pdf) and on David Pingree’s 1986 edition (page numbers marked with P), a great improvement on his predecessor’s. The angled brackets (< >) indicate words added in the translation for clarity or (sometimes) to correct errors in the text.

My studies in ancient mathematical literature, and (more important) in the Syriac and Arabic copies of Valens did not proceed far enough to put the finishing touches on this translation. Moreover I have moved on to other work. (See here.) So there are no guarantees of accuracy. You might also find some typos. Use at your own risk. In addition I am not prepared to answer questions about the translation. You are on your own.

When studying Valens, also consult my Survey of Vettius Valens (on this webpage) and Neugebauer and Van Hoesen, Greek Horoscopes (Philadelphia 1987). Most of the horoscopes listed in Valens are translated by Neugebauer and Van Hoesen.

Thank you, Mark, for this — this is excellent news!

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Eusebius update

Posted on by Roger Pearse

I’ve been trying to process the last outstanding problem on the text of the Eusebius Gospel Problems and Solutions book.  In essence the translator has decided that she wants to include an extra fragment.  

Of course that also means hunting out the Coptic text, and transcribing it, and recognising — although I don’t know Coptic — precisely where on the line the text is supposed to start and stop.  I’ve done this myself, and completed the task this morning.  It’s about 100 words of English, and the same of Coptic.  I’ve also managed to render the translator’s somewhat diffuse comments into a couple of footnotes. 

I think I will pass this new material across to the typesetter as a small Word file, rather than try to add it as stickys to the PDF. 

In the process of typing Coptic — a first for me — I have discovered a couple of problems with the Alphabetum font I have been using for Coptic.  These I have reported to the font owner.

There is also some kind of note that needs to be added about how the original editor of the Coptic handled spaces.  When I can understand what is required, I will compose something.  And that will be the last change.  Laus deo!

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Lord Macaulay on the unwise extension of copyright

Posted on by Roger Pearse

At Dyspepsia Generation I happened to see this post:

Speech to the House of Commons 1841.

Can you imagine a modern Congressman making a speech like this?

Can you even think of one that wouldn’t need to have it explained to him in simpler words?

The proposal is to extend the term of copyright from life plus 28 years to life plus 60 years — 10 years less than we now endure.  After initial oratory, Macaulay goes on to make some very sound points indeed.

I will take an example. Dr. Johnson died fifty-six years ago. If the law were what my honorable and learned friend wishes to make it, somebody would now have the monopoly of Dr. Johnsons works. Who that somebody would be it is impossible to say; but we may venture to guess. I guess, then, that it would have been some bookseller, who was the assign of another bookseller, who was the grandson of a third bookseller, who had bought the copyright from Black Frank, the Doctors servant and residuary legatee, in 1785 or 1786. Now, would the knowledge that this copyright would exist in 1841 have been a source of gratification to Johnson? Would it have stimulated his exertions? Would it have once drawn him out of his bed before noon? Would it have once cheered him under a fit of the spleen? Would it have induced him to give us one more allegory, one more life of a poet, one more imitation of Juvenal? I firmly believe not. I firmly believe that a hundred years ago, when he was writing our debates for the Gentlemans Magazine, he would very much rather have had twopence to buy a plate of shin of beef at a cooks shop underground. Considered as a reward to him, the difference between a twenty years term and a sixty years term of posthumous copyright would have been nothing or next to nothing. But is the difference nothing to us? I can buy Rasselas for sixpence; I might have had to give five shillings for it. I can buy the Dictionary, the entire genuine Dictionary, for two guineas, perhaps for less; I might have had to give five or six guineas for it. Do I grudge this to a man like Dr. Johnson? Not at all. Show me that the prospect of this boon roused him to any vigorous effort, or sustained his spirits under depressing circumstances, and I am quite willing to pay the price of such an object, heavy as that price is. But what I do complain of is that my circumstances are to be worse, and Johnsons none the better; that I am to give five pounds for what to him was not worth a farthing.

The principle of copyright is this. It is a tax on readers for the purpose of giving a bounty to writers. The tax is an exceedingly bad one; it is a tax on one of the most innocent and most salutary of human pleasures; and never let us forget, that a tax on innocent pleasures is a premium on vicious pleasures. I admit, however, the necessity of giving a bounty to genius and learning. In order to give such a bounty, I willingly submit even to this severe and burdensome tax. Nay, I am ready to increase the tax, if it can be shown that by so doing I should proportionally increase the bounty. My complaint is, that my honorable and learned friend doubles, triples, quadruples, the tax, and makes scarcely any perceptible addition to the bounty.  … Now, I again say that I think it but fair that we should pay twenty thousand pounds in consideration of twenty thousand pounds worth of pleasure and encouragement received by Dr. Johnson. But I think it very hard that we should pay twenty thousand pounds for what he would not have valued at five shillings.

My honorable and learned friend dwells on the claims of the posterity of great writers. … But, unhappily, it is scarcely possible that, under any system, such a thing can come to pass. My honorable and learned friend does not propose that copyright shall descend to the eldest son, or shall be bound up by irrevocable entail. It is to be merely personal property. It is therefore highly improbable that it will descend during sixty years or half that term from parent to child. The chance is that more people than one will have an interest in it. They will in all probability sell it and divide the proceeds. The price which a bookseller will give for it will bear no proportion to the sum which he will afterwards draw from the public, if his speculation proves successful. He will give little, if anything, more for a term of sixty years than for a term of thirty or five and twenty.  …

If, Sir, I wished to find a strong and perfect illustration of the effects which I anticipate from long copyright, I should select my honorable and learned friend will be surprised I should select the case of Miltons granddaughter. As often as this bill has been under discussion, the fate of Miltons granddaughter has been brought forward by the advocates of monopoly. My honorable and learned friend has repeatedly told the story with great eloquence and effect. He has dilated on the sufferings, on the abject poverty, of this ill-fated woman, the last of an illustrious race. He tells us that, in the extremity of her distress, Garrick gave her a benefit, that Johnson wrote a prologue, and that the public contributed some hundreds of pounds. Was it fit, he asks, that she should receive, in this eleemosynary form, a small portion of what was in truth a debt? Why, he asks, instead of obtaining a pittance from charity, did she not live in comfort and luxury on the proceeds of the sale of her ancestors works? But, Sir, will my honorable and learned friend tell me that this event, which he has so often and so pathetically described, was caused by the shortness of the term of copyright? Why, at that time, the duration of copyright was longer than even he, at present, proposes to make it. The monopoly lasted not sixty years, but for ever. At the time at which Miltons granddaughter asked charity, Miltons works were the exclusive property of a bookseller. Within a few months of the day on which the benefit was given at Garricks theatre, the holder of the copyright of Paradise Lost I think it was Tonson applied to the Court of Chancery for an injunction against a bookseller, who had published a cheap edition of the great epic poem, and obtained the injunction. The representation of Comus was, if I remember rightly, in 1750; the injunction in 1752. Here, then, is a perfect illustration of the effect of long copyright. Miltons works are the property of a single publisher. Everybody who wants them must buy them at Tonsons shop, and at Tonsons price. Whoever attempts to undersell Tonson is harassed with legal proceedings. Thousands who would gladly possess a copy of Paradise Lost, must forego that great enjoyment. And what, in the meantime, is the situation of the only person for whom we can suppose that the author, protected at such a cost to the public, was at all interested? She is reduced to utter destitution. Miltons works are under a monopoly. Miltons granddaughter is starving. The reader is pillaged; but the writers family is not enriched.  …

I will only say this, that if the measure before us should pass, and should produce one tenth part of the evil which it is calculated to produce, and which I fully expect it to produce, there will soon be a remedy, though of a very objectionable kind. Just as the absurd acts which prohibited the sale of game were virtually repealed by the poacher, just as many absurd revenue acts have been virtually repealed by the smuggler, so will this law be virtually repealed by piratical booksellers. At present the holder of copyright has the public feeling on his side. Those who invade copyright are regarded as knaves who take the bread out of the mouths of deserving men. Everybody is well pleased to see them restrained by the law, and compelled to refund their ill-gotten gains. …

Pass this law: and that feeling is at an end. Men very different from the present race of piratical booksellers will soon infringe this intolerable monopoly. Great masses of capital will be constantly employed in the violation of the law. Every art will be employed to evade legal pursuit; and the whole nation will be in the plot.

This was prescience indeed.

The record companies used to tell us, in the 1980’s, when there was still a record industry, ‘Home taping is killing music — and it’s illegal.’  Yet who did not possess an album copied onto a cassette tape?  Few of us, I suspect, do not possess a bootleg MP3 today.

The copyright durations of the present day are an excrescence.  Few if any academic works benefit from the massive terms of copyright under which they remain out of print.  The public is harmed, and access denied.  We need to return to some saner system, where books that go out of print go out of copyright, and works in which no man has any longer any financial interest move into the public domain.

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The Mark Riley translation of Vettius Valens

Posted on by Roger Pearse

Mark Riley has sent me PDF’s of his entire unpublished translation of the second century astrological handbook, the Anthology of Vettius Valens.  This was translated from the Kroll edition (which is online) and the revised Pingree text (which is not).  I’ve combined them into a single file and emailed them back, and he’s going to make it available online.

It’s a marvellous piece of work.  The sheer labour that must have been involved is staggering.  It is a terrible shame that this never turned into a publication.  Mark tells me that the reason for this is that, to perfect it, he needed to consult the Arabic versions of the text, and lacked the necessary language skill and time to acquire it. I have suggested to him that he post the translation on his website.  It will be of interest to anyone interested in Vettius Valens.  It is very clear and well translated.

Unfortunately the text itself is only of specialist interest.  I read through it this morning, hoping for snippets of information on the ancient world.  But these are lacking.  Vettius Valens is only interested in showing students how to calculate astronomical things in order to cast horoscopes.  He derides the bombast and obscurity of other such handbooks.  But otherwise it is all calculations.

The book should be useful to those interested in ancient astronomy, and to those who must work out how mathematics was presented in an age without proper numerals.  But it is not of interest to most of us.

I’ve also heard back today from Project Hindsight about the Robert Schmidt translations of ancient astrological writers.  These are $45 a volume, which is dear — too dear for me.  I said so, and was told there might be volumes available at $30, which is a possible. price  Why any of these are more than $20 a go I do not see, tho.  I have suggested to them that Dr Schmidt might like to consult Dr Riley about Vettius Valens.

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Griechische Kalender: the four calendars published by Franz Boll

Posted on by Roger Pearse

I’ve now uploaded PDF’s of four ancient Greek calendars to Archive.org.  All were edited by Franz Boll, and published in Sitzungsberichte der Heidelberger Akademie der Wissenschaften, Philosophisch-Historische Klasse, vols 1 (1910), 2 (1911), 4 (1913) and 5 (1914).  Here are the links:

Franz Boll, who edited them, died in 1924, so these are all well out of copyright everywhere.

The important one for our purposes is the Calendar of Antiochus of Athens.  Looking at it, all the entries are astronomical, and concerned with the risings and settings of constellations.  I didn’t see any other kind of entry.  The notice on 25 December — “Birth of the sun.  The light increases” — has no significance, I think, except for the astrological one.  It certainly is not a witness to the Dies Natalis Solis Invicti, therefore.

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Sanity on cuts in the humanities

Posted on by Roger Pearse

I don’t work in Higher Education, and, while I try to avoid it, it isn’t quite possible to read history blogs without encountering the discussion about the current climate of cutbacks, particularly in the United Kingdom.  Unfortunately most of that “discussion” consists of ever more strident demands “give us money!” and the sense of entitlement is enough to make any normal person feel sick.  It’s my taxes that they are discussing, after all.  Some of us are net contributors to public funds; most of these people are net gainers, intent on looting funds which they do not supply.

So it was a pleasure to read a piece here by Martin Rundkvist, Hope for the humanities?

Yesterday I had been invited to speak at a seminar organised by the Forum for Heritage Research, a network sponsored by four Swedish organisations in the field. The headline was “Hope for the Humanities”, and I must admit that I gritted my teeth at the idealist, anti-market and downright unrealistic perspective presented in the invitation copy. Here’s a piece based on what I said at the seminar.

…

Conan the Barbarian, or Aragorn son of Arathorn, or Ronia the Robber’s Daughter all represent something of central importance to the heritage sector and to the humanities in general. At the same time, on the one hand they embody something we must always seek to achieve, that is the wondersome excitement of discovering a fantastic past – and on the other something we must avoid if we are to fill any independent purpose at all, as these characters and the worlds they inhabit are fictional. Historical humanities, excepting the aesthetic disciplines, deal with reality. This is our unique competitive selling point that we must never lose sight of.

“How can humanistic and historical scholarship contribute to a better society?”, asked the seminar’s hosts.

The humanities won’t mend a leaky roof. They won’t put food on the table. They won’t cure polio. They won’t create peace or prosperity. And taxpayers know this perfectly well. For these reasons, I believe that we absolutely cannot market ourselves in terms of any indispensable societally structure-supporting utility. We will only makes fools of ourselves. Because the raison d’être of the historical humanities doesn’t lie in any practical utility, but in their enjoyment potential. In the joy of learning something interesting about the past that is true. In the joy of seeing something for real that has survived since antiquity.

…

This suggests a kind of punk-rock attitude where a defiant humanities scholar says “I’m not gonna provide anything measurable or manageable or trivial or popular!” And sure, that is up to the individual. But if we are to expect a monthly salary from the taxpayers, then I think we will have to accept that they want to be able to measure and manage our product. How else are they supposed to know if it’s worth it to continue paying our salaries? And they want us to produce stuff that, within the realm of solid real-world humanities scholarship, is at least as much fun as a TV game show or Conan the Barbarian.

Martin goes on to discuss various false justifications, with much acuteness. 

I have written before on how state “funding” is not free.  It is exacted by men in uniforms from ordinary people.  After all, the rich man pays hardly any tax, and the higher the tax rate is, the less he bothers to pay.  The rich will never pay taxes, because all countries are run by rich people and always will be.  Every bit of funding for patristics, therefore, is exacted by force from people who perhaps do not have enough to live on, and most of whom will certainly not have enough to retire on, and who gain no benefit from it.  It means forcing the poor and the powerless to work long hours for no reward, so that some official somewhere can “grant funding” to some academic for some purpose.  I am in favour of patristics.  But … phew!  That’s a lot to justify.  We must always remember that taxes are not a good.  They are a necessary evil.  Every tax diminishes us all, bleeds life from us all.

This does not mean that the humanities must be thrown away.  In war time we did not close down all the orchestras!  But it does mean that the humanities do have to justify their receipt of money exacted from the poor.  It is, admittedly, pleasant to read Aeschylus and to learn to quote Horace.  But at someone else’s expense?  I’m not sure about that.

I think Martin has put his finger on a real truth.  The humanities serve the community.  They are a luxury item.  But the community is glad to contribute something, so long as it gets something.  Indiana Jones is a popular figure.  Archaeology there should be. 

But … the sense of entitlement needs to end.  No society has a duty to support a caste of people contemptuous of those to whom they owe everything and who consider communicating with the public beneath them.

Papyrologists and Coptologists … this means you!  Get out there and start earning your salary by engaging with the public.  After all, if the public love you, the politicians will find a way to keep you going.

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From my diary

Posted on by Roger Pearse

The calendar of Antiochus is not online, it seems.  It forms part of the Sitzungsberichte der Heidelberger Akademie der Wissenschaften, Philosophisch-Historische Klasse — part of volume 1 (1910), in fact.  Like most out-of-copyright German academic publications, these are online only if places like Harvard contributed them to Google Books.  But I want to access it.  Apparently it refers to 25 Dec. as a solar festival, just like the Chronography of 354 does.

Nothing for it.  I’ll have to do this the old fashioned way.  The way we used to do it, as recently as five years ago.  Yep — into the car and a 60 mile journey to my nearest academic library.  This process is already becoming history, and I suppose it’s worth documenting here for the future what it involved. 

Firstly you have to have a reader’s card for the library.  Well, I have one, but it had expired.  So I need to renew it.  This means filling out a form, and going and queueing in the admissions office.  That’s a bit of a pain if you want one article.  They also want £10 for another 6 months access.  I need my passport, a utility bill to prove my address, and my letter of introduction for access to manuscripts.  I fill in the form online on Thursday night, and email to ask for an appointment at 10am on Saturday so I can get my card.  By lunchtime on Friday there has been no reply, so I telephone.  I’m allotted 9:50am.

Up I get this morning.  I drive 60 miles, at a cost of some £40 in petrol.  When I get there I am early, so I lose a few minutes having something to eat.  Then into the office.  My card gets renewed, slowly and inefficiently.  Someone sticks their head in as the process is completing, which causes the clerk to hand me the card and dismiss me. 

Then into the library. I’ve consulted the catalogue online, so I know that the book is in the North Front, third floor — that’s the room in which the book is.  It has a shelfmark of P500.c.170.1.  P says it is a periodical; the room is split into periodicals and non-periodicals.  Both look like bound books, of course.  So at least I’m in the right part of the room.  ‘c’ is the size.  The periodical section is split into four areas, in order of decreasing size, a, b, c and d.  Mine is normal size.  Then I look through that section until I find 170, which is the Sitzungsberichte that I wanted.  Then I look for volume 1 and … there is a gap on the shelf.  In fact the first two volumes seem to be missing. 

Drat.  Where can they be?  It’s not likely that a reader checked them out.  Perhaps they’re at a desk being read.  But no-one is reading in that room today.  Maybe they’re in the photocopying room.  Down the stairs, along the corridor.  Nope.

I go to the enquiry desk.  The girl can’t tell from the system whether they are out of not, as individual volumes are entered haphazardly.  She comes up and we both look at the space.  “Maybe someone has taken them out” she offers, helpfully.  Eventually she suggests that I talk to the people in periodicals.   I wonder if the book is out for binding or something.  Along there I go.  Lots of kerfuffle, staff consulting experts who do not appear.  Eventually it turns out that my guess was correct, and after another delay I get the book.

Then off to the photocopier.  I quickly make some copies.  Then I try to get the copier to scan the pages and email them to me.  But it’s too badly designed — after a dozen pages I give up and make do with the paper copies.  As I leave, I hear the sound of steady cursing from another copier, where a reader even less familiar with the devices than myself is having trouble even getting paper copies out.

And … it is mid-day.  A whole morning has passed, and I now have the article.  It will appear online in due course, trust me!  But for the moment I’m just a wee bit weary.

We take so much for granted.  It’s worth remembering that the above exercise had to be gone through for every academic paper I have ever read, in days gone by.  It’s vanishing now, that cumbersome, expensive and inefficient process.  But it is also a link to the remote past.  Physical libraries like Alexandria were equally difficult to use, unless you happened to live nearby.  There is a chain of people trying to acquire knowledge from these repositories, stretching all the way back to antiquity.  When it finally disappears, will the customs of ancient libraries suddenly become unintelligible to students who have never had to do more than point and click to get a book?

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