A couple of weeks ago the Persée site announced that they had added the “Documents, études et répertoires de l’Institut de Recherche et d’Histoire des Textes” to their collection. The IRHT is the centre of manuscript studies, so this is big news. The collection may be found here.
This is full of good things for those interested in medieval manuscripts. It also contains the volumes of the Codices Chrysostomici Graeci – listing the enormous number of Chrysostom manuscripts.
But the highlight is number 10, the Repertorium Pseudochrysostomicum (1965) by Aldama, listing alla large proportion of the works falsely attributed to John Chrysostom. There are hundreds of them, and this is the key tool to use. Nobody ever had access to it, of course. It’s the sort of book that is locked up in manuscript rooms, themselves accessible only with a letter of recommendation.
Various snippets have come my way over the last few days. But rather than writing new blog posts, I’ve been updating some older posts that touched upon them.
Much of this related to Juvenal. All my old posts on him can be found here.
One old post here contained the text, together with a very old and not very good translation of the ancient “biography” of Juvenal that appears in some manuscripts. I came across a modern translation by Courtney and added that to it, and also included screen shots of the page in two manuscripts.
Other posts referred to the Aarau fragments of Juvenal. A kind correspondent had let me know the location of these, so I made sure the posts reflected this.
Another post here contained the first two sentences of the first scholion on Satire I, line 1. I added the other two, to round it out. Small stuff, I know, but all useful.
Soon after publishing my post here on photographs of the Meta Sudans held by the American Academy in Rome, I learned that the British School in Rome had also posted some photographs of the monument online. So I added these to the same post. They nicely filled in some gaps, giving nearly 360° views of the Meta Sudans.
All this is rather inconsequential, and I would not mention it ordinarily, were it not for the next update.
This blog is written using the free WordPress software, although I host my own copy of it on some rented webspace. A couple of years ago WordPress decided to introduce a new editor, the “block editor”. This I ignored, as I was perfectly happy with the “classic editor”.
But the inevitable has happened. The classic editor is starting to rot. It is developing bugs. It’s becoming unfit for purpose.
So this is my first post with the block editor, written mainly to test it out. Let’s see what happens.
I have already discovered one problem: that it doesn’t seem to support footnotes. A blog post here gives a quite impractical approach, and suggests that WordPress simply don’t care about it. I’ll have to look further into this.
I do believe that WordPress have lost the plot. The original purpose of WordPress was to make blogging easy. These days everything seems to be about using it to develop websites. Blogging hardly seems to rate a mention.
This is the problem with using any free blogging tools like WordPress, rather than raw HTML. It makes many things easier, and certainly improves the presentation. But at the end of the day it means committing your content to strangers who have no obligation towards you. They can in principle withdraw their tools from you at any moment for any reason, leaving you in the lurch. You have no redress whatever.
Who was “St Austell”. There is a town of that name in Cornwall, in the UK.
I am no expert on saints, and I would imagine that there are shoals of local saints in the Celtic regions of Britain. But I did find a source. Apparently the book to go to is Nicholas Orme, The Saints of Cornwall, Oxford (2000). Fortunately there is a Google Books preview, and it had an entry on page 67 for this St Austell.
Let’s see what we can make of this entry. These sorts of handbooks are often stuffed full of abbreviations, so it can be hard.
(a) Austoll 10th (Olson and Padel: 59).
(b) St Austell: ecclesiam de Austol 1155 x c.1160 (Barlow: no. 74); sanctuarium de Sancto Austolo 1169 (1235) (PRO, C 53/28: m. 10); ecclesie Sancti Austol 1259 (Chanter 1: f. 6 V); ecclesias . . . Sancti Austoli 1281 (Oliver 1846: 43); de Sancto Austolo 1291 (Tax.); ecclesie… Sancti Austoli 1446 (Chanter X: f. 200r); S. Austelles (place) c.1540 (Leland 1907- 10: i. 201-2); Austel 1733 (Willis: 169); Austell 1742 (Ecton: 176); Austle 1782 (Jones: 98); Austolus 1846 (Oliver 1846:437), 1925 (Henderson 1925a: 23).
The 11th-century Life of Mewan, written in Brittany, claims that Austell was a priest and godson of Mewan who lived with him in his monastery at Saint-Meen (I.-et-V.), attended his deathbed, and died on 28 June (his subsequent feast-day), exactly one week after his master (Plaine 1884: 155-6; Doble 1939c: 4-11). Both saints were honoured at Saint-Meen. In Cornwall the parishes of St Austell and St Mewan adjoin one another, and have probably done so since at least the 10th century when the two saints occur together in the early list of saints (Olson and Padel: 34, 59). Austell’s Cornish parish, however, was much larger than Mewan’s, reversing their status in Brittany.
St Austell church is first mentioned distinctly in a document of the mid-12th century (above). Nothing is known about Austell’s cult there until the early 17th, when Nicholas Roscarrock wrote that local people believed that he and Mewan were great friends who lived together in the parishes named after them. Roscarrock refers to a statue of a bishop or abbot in a wall of St Austell church, which he supposed to commemorate Austell, and states that the saint’s feast was held on the Thursday after Whitsunday (Pentecost) (Orme 1992a: 56). This was perhaps to associate it with the holiday season of Whitsuntide. Since the mid-i9th century St Austell church has been regarded as dedicated to the Trinity, because the parish feast was then held on Trinity Sunday, but in medieval times the dedication was always to Austell (Orme 1996a: 69).
In 1173 Tywardreath Priory near St Austell was said to be dedicated to Andrew and Austell, implying that the priory had acquired the latter’s relics (Oliver 1846: 38). In Wales Llanawstl in Machen parish (Mon.) appears to mean ‘church-site of Austell’, but no church is recorded there and none is known to have been dedicated to him in Brittany (Loth 1910:12). See also Doble 1939c.
The main text is clear enough, but the opening material in smaller text looks like references to primary documents. I can’t make much of this, except that “PRO” is clearly “Public Records Office”. “Leland” is John Leland, the antiquarian of King Henry VIII. He travelled all over England at the time of the Reformation, and his journal – he never published his finds – clearly was printed in a 1907 edition. If I had the complete book, possibly these entries would make more sense.
It’s clear that this is a very obscure saint indeed. There is no “Saint’s Life” for him; only a mention in the Life of St Mewan.
But Google comes mightily to our aid. A preview of what is plainly an important book, S. Boardman &c, Saint’s Cults in the Celtic World, p.114, reveals in a footnote that the Life of St Mewan or S. Meen, is “Vita S. Mevenni: abbatis et confessoris in Britannia armoricana”, ed. F. B. Plaine in Analecta Bollandiana 3 (1884), 141-58.
I was unable to locate a downloadable copy, but it is at Hathi here if you have access. The mention of St Austell is at the end, cc.19-20, on pp.155-6, where he is introduced: “Quo viso Austulos quidam presbyter, ejus filiolis, qui ei in monasterio serviebat humiliter,…”, “Seeing this a certain presbyter Austolus, his godson, who humbly served him in the monastery…”.
The Boardman book goes on:
The Life also, in its account of Meén’s death, introduces a certain presbyter named Austolus, his godson (filiolus), who is comforted by Méen’s prediction that Austol will join him in death within seven days. This indeed happens, and when Austol is taken for burial beside Méen, the monks find that:
“the saint’s body, which diffused a fragrant odour instead of the odour of corruption, had moved and was lying on the right of the grave facing the vacant space on the left, as if waiting for his disciple. They believed that this had happened by God’s appointment, and they buried the blessed godson by his blessed godfather. And thus the dead bones of the two saints declared the love which had ever united them.”
137. Vita S. Mevenni, § 20: ed. Plaine, 156. Doble, Saint Mewan, 11.
Elsewhere we seem to be in a world of little antiquarian scribblers. Thus “Doble” is Rev. G . H . Doble , Saint Mewan and Saint Austol , 2nd edn (Long Compton , 1939), who turns out to be a deceased Cornish clergyman. None of those kinds of sources are online; they lie, buried in rural archives and libraries. (Update: Doble is here.)
More promising is Olson and Padel, which turns out to be B.L.Olson and O.J.Padel, “A tenth-century list of Cornish parochial saints”, Cambridge Medieval Celtic Studies 12 (Winter, 1986): 33-71. I didn’t try very hard, but this too seems offline.
The same sort of process would probably apply to anyone seeking information on a vast number of Celtic saints. It reminds us that there is much still to do in getting the materials of scholarship online.
This information exists; but for how long, once libraries close down because “everything is online”? There is work to do.
I wrote about my frustration in being unable to locate manuscripts online, despite having the shelfmarks. Of course I am not the only one to encounter this. A kind correspondent has made me aware of a list of links which helps enormously. Compiled by Albrecht Diem, at the Monastic Manuscript Project, it is here. I shall add it to the sidebar.
I have tested this out with the list of manuscripts of Wilhelm v. Boldensele, in this post. The result was that I located a couple more manuscripts online, which I have linked.
It was still back-breaking work. After a few libraries, I gave up. But it was definitely an improvement.
Here are a few items that I learned about over the last couple of weeks.
De Gruyter have published an edition of the fragments of the Ecclesiastical History of Gelasius of Caesarea, ed. Martin Wallraff &c, with a translation by Nicholas Marinides. The De Gruyter item is here. A “teaser” extract is now available on the translators Academia.edu page here. This is, of course, a very welcome addition to historical sources for the period, tho at $150 a pop I shall not i invest.
Less expensive – indeed free for download online – is a translation of Book 3, chapters 1-30 of the Histories of John Cantacuzene (given as “John Kantakouzenos”; why not Ioannes Kantakouzenos, on the same logic?). It’s a thesis by Brian McLaughlin, and it’s great to have available, and is online at Royal Holloway here.
Finally another commercial item, which I happened to find quite useful in my work on Nicholas of Myra legends: John L. Hoh, Santa Claus: Is he for your child? 2011, eBook. It’s padded out with all sorts of stuff, but I found it a useful version of many of the popular stories. Not recommending it, you understand; but I didn’t know people were still publishing such things.
Apologies for slow correspondence. I’ve had a winter bug. Hopefully I can start catching up now!
Sir Roger L’Estrange is probably mainly remembered today for his activities as a journalist and violent pamphleteer for the court during the reign of Charles II. As with others of Charles’ partisans, there was a strong element of ingratitude in all this. L’Estrange had fought for Charles I in the civil war, but had received a pardon in 1653 from Oliver Cromwell, after which he had prospered under the commonwealth. He was made surveyor of the press by the king in 1662, although the king did not see any reason to pay him a salary.
But how many of us are aware that this controversial figure was also a translator, and produced a translation of the works of Josephus?
Yet so it is; the work appeared in 1702. Even more interestingly, he became involved in a copyright dispute because of it!
The facts may be found in an old article by A.W. Pollard, “Copyright in Josephus”, in The Library 30 (1917), p.173-6. Curiously Oxford University Press modestly ask for $44 in return for 24 hours access to this 101-year old item, here.
In 1609 a certain Thomas Lodge, “Doctor of Physick”, produced a translation of The famous and memorable works of Josephus, based on the Latin and French. This went through a number of editions, and a new edition appeared in 1676, revised against the French translation of Arnauld d’Andilly.
In 1693 a bookseller named Richard Sare advertised a new translation, by none other than Sir Roger L’Estrange. On the 3rd April a bill appeared, signed by a number of booksellers, threatening legal action!
it being the Resolution of the Proprietors of the present English Copy, to use all lawful Means to vindicate their Right, and recover Satisfaction for the Damages they shall sustain by this New Undertaking; they and their Predecessors having been in just and quiet Possession of the same for near One Hundred Years, and having expended above Eight Hundred Pounds in amending their Translation by a Learned and Ingenious Hand, and in Printing a large Impression newly finish’d, now upon their hands.
Sare issued his own bill the next day, stating his intention to go on with it and disparaging the Lodge translation as “senseless”.
The new edition of Lodge did really exist, and really did appear in 1693, printed by Abel Roper, one of the signatories of the first bill.
The L’Estrange translation did not appear until nine years later, with the preface dated 28th January 1702, only a couple of years before L’Estrange’s death. By that time the Glorious Revolution of William and Mary had come and gone. The translator must have seemed like a ghostly figure from another age, as of course he was.
Pollard attributes the delay to bribery. He points out that the owners of the Lodge translation had already made a substantial investment, even in their own terms, and paying off Sare or L’Estrange would have been worthwhile. The claim to perpetual copyright in the translation is in keeping with the strange ideas of that age, and indeed was recognised by the old Common Law. This somewhat vague right was reinforced, as was thought, by an Act of Queen Anne in 1710, giving copyright of 21 years exclusively to the publisher.
But what happened when the Queen Anne act expired? There was a lawsuit, of course. The essayist Augustine Birrell in “Authors in Court”, whom it is always a pleasure to read, recounts the matter.
These proceedings found their way, as all decent proceedings do, to the House of Lords — farther than which you cannot go, though ever so minded. It was now high time to settle this question, and their lordships accordingly, as was their proud practice in great cases, summoned the judges of the land before their bar, and put to them five carefully-worded questions, all going to the points — what was the old Common Law right, and has it survived the statute? Eleven judges attended, heard the questions, bowed and retired to consider their answers. On the fifteenth of February, 1774, they reappeared, and it being announced that they differed, instead of being locked up without meat, drink, or firing until they agreed, they were requested to deliver their opinions with their reasons, which they straightway proceeded to do. The result may be stated with tolerable accuracy thus : by ten to one they were of opinion that the old Common Law recognised perpetual copyright. By six to five they were of opinion that the statute of Queen Anne had destroyed this right. The House of Lords adopted the opinion of the majority, reversed the decree of the Court below, and thus Thomson’s Seasonsbecame your Seasons, my Seasons, anybody’s Seasons.
Big money rested on all this. Thomson the poet had sold his right for three of the Seasons to a certain Millar for a £242. When Millar died in 1729, after selling the work for more than 40 years, his heirs sold the Seasons to a certain Beckett for £505. Beckett himself sold the item also for more than 40 years.
All the same, claiming copyright on any English translation of an ancient author required quite a bit of impudence.
What did Sir Roger L’Estrange get for his translation? For his folio volume of 1,130 pages, he received £300, plus a sixth part of the gross sales, plus 25 ordinary copies and 25 on royal paper. The ordinary copies were priced at 25s, and the royal paper copies at 45s. The edition was obviously a success, for a new edition in three volumes was accidentally destroyed in 1712 by a fire in the printer’s office. There seem to have been reprints well into the 19th century.
I have not been able to locate a copy of L’Estrange’s work online. It wouldn’t meet modern standards, I am sure. But the tale is an interesting corner of the history of literature.
Anybody who wants to know anything about Arabic literature must rely on the seven-volume textbook by Carl Brockelmann, Geschichte der Arabischen Litteratur. The work lists the authors and their works from the beginning in the 6th century down to modern times, with a bibliography for each. Unfortunately the work is a complete mess, with inscrutable abbreviations and so on, mainly because Brockelmann fell into the hands of a swindler who cheated him badly in the publication. But it is all there is. It is possible to find all of it online these days; but it is in German, and it is quite unreadable. (Christian Arabic literature was omitted).
Imagine my delight, therefore, to hear from Prof. Joep Lameer, that he has been producing an English translation. This is appearing through Brill. Better yet, he is fixing some of the most baffling features:
The present English translation reproduces the original German of Carl Brockelmann’s Geschichte der Arabischen Litteratur (GAL) as accurately as possible. In the interest of user-friendliness the following emendations have been made in the translation: Personal names are written out in full, except b. for ibn; Brockelmann’s transliteration of Arabic has been adapted to comply with modern standards for English-language publications; modern English equivalents are given for place names, e.g. Damascus, Cairo, Jerusalem, etc.; several erroneous dates have been corrected, and the page references to the two German editions have been retained in the margin, except in the Supplement volumes, where new references to the first two English volumes have been inserted.
An introduction by Jan Just Witkam – who in a Brill reprint of Brockelmann explained finally why the GAL was such a mess – is a very welcome addition.
Dr Lameer has not tried to rearrange the material – a very wise decision. Just getting it into usable form is quite a massive enough undertaking. He writes:
I’ve been working about three years on this, full time. It was quite a job, I can tell you! I expect that by the end of Q2 2018 the whole thing will be done.
This marvellous undertaking may well spark a renaissance of studies of Arabic literature. For the first time it becomes possible for ordinary people to get a handle on what exists.
So far there are 3 volumes on the Brill website; the first two volumes of the original edition, and the first volume of supplements. But I understand from Dr. L. that a fourth volume is complete and with the publisher.
I would go and buy a set at once myself. I would recommend that everyone do so. Except… volume 1 alone is $210. The ebook is the same, which is cheeky. Online access is $3,500, although of course this is intended for libraries who get grants for such things.
If I understand how the project was structured then Brill are genuinely trying to recover some significant costs here. That is quite understandable. It is wonderful that the project has been undertaken at all. But once those costs have been recovered, would it be too much to ask that they consider producing the volumes at $25 each in paperback? Let a million copies be sold!
Mark C. Wilson, a senior lecturer at Department of Computer Science, University of Auckland, writing for The Conversation (h/t Slashdot):
University research is generally funded from the public purse. The results, however, are published in peer-reviewed academic journals, many of which charge subscription fees. I had to use freedom of information laws to determine how much universities in New Zealand spend on journal subscriptions to give researchers and students access to the latest research — and I found they paid almost US$15 million last year to just four publishers. There are additional costs, too. Paywalls on research hold up scientific progress and limit the public’s access to the latest information.
Even better is that one university was paying markedly more for the same access than the others.
It’s just four companies, doing this. How long will this cartel be permitted to plunder us all?
A kind correspondent drew my attention to the fact that there is an English translation of Basil the Great’s Commentary on Isaiah accessible on Academia.edu here. This is the page of the translator, Nikolai Lipatov. Grab your copy now!
A kind message informs me that David Gohl’s translation of the remaining books of Origen’s Commentary on Matthew (which I discussed here) has now reached book 16. He has translated this, and uploaded it for comment to Academia.edu here.