Should we expect a translation when a scholar prints a previously unpublished text?

At the Hill Monastic Manuscript Library, cataloguer Adam McCollum has written an interesting article on whether scholars publishing newly discovered ancient texts should be obliged to translate them as well. (H/t Paleojudaica)

… the optimum scenario is to have texts and editions. No question: that way, those closely involved with the language and literature and those outside this group can both get some benefit and have opportunity and even incentive to interact with the text. And even for the eventual case of every text edition, an included translation or translations is not too much to wish for. But in our own meantime, are translations always necessary?

…  translation is always time-consuming and often hard work …. Now, producing useful editions of texts is also hard work, but not in the same way. In some cases, this latter labor can even come down to reading and transcribing manuscripts, or sometimes even a single manuscript, making perhaps some emendations here and there to correct the text, but doing so all the while having also recorded the manuscripts’ real reading…

Dr McCollum then points out that one motive for printing a translation in the past was sales — that people were reluctant to buy text-only volumes, so it was necessary to include a translation, just to make the book commercially viable.  He responds:

Electronic texts, even a PDF that can be both electronic and then physical with the push of a button, are relatively easily and very cheaply made, … they also mean more potential readers, since these resources are discoverable so simply via searching and linking.

Where would be in terms of material for Jacob of Sarug, the Syriac Martyr Acts, etc., had Paul Bedjan (or his publisher) decided that French translations were requisite for the thousands of pages he edited? I fear we would hardly have so many thousands of pages in Syriac edited by him anymore! What about Wright’s editions of the Travels of Ibn Jubayr, the Kāmil of Al-Mubarrad, and the later Syriac translation of Kalila wa-Dimna. What of Paul de Lagarde’s numerous text editions? We would be better off if all of these texts had translations, and indeed some of the texts just mentioned eventually have found their translators, but if the necessity of translation had loomed over the head of Bedjan, Wright, or Lagarde, it is hardly likely that we would have the texts edited by them that we have, and we would thus have much less within reach so much literature. …

The question for now is simply that of the title above: should scholars be required, by their own or external compulsion, in every case to produce a translation alongside any newly edited or re-edited text? My own answer, as will be obvious by now, is “no”, but I think discussion of the question may prove fruitful for the fields concerned.

These are interesting points, well made.

I think the key point being made is fairly simple.  Translating whole texts is hard and time-consuming.  It is considerably simpler and quicker simply to transcribe the manuscript, adjusting for some of the more obvious typos along the way.  If you have a lot of unedited material, and you have limited time and resources, then you can put out a lot more stuff if you do the latter, than if you do the former.  You’ll be able to make accessible to scholars a load of stuff that they could not otherwise access.  On the other hand, few people will ever be able to read the stuff you publish.

Dr McCollum’s point is obviously that of a man with a pile of manuscripts in front of him, wondering what to do with them, in any reasonable period of time.  What should he do?

Certainly publication is the most important thing.  For instance there are two scholars sitting on a Greek mathematical papyrus, which they can’t be bothered to publish, and which they alone have access to.  Doubtless the reason why they don’t publish the text is that they want to do a “commentary” and thereby enhance their own reputations.  Such behaviour is by no means novel in the world of papyrology, and is utterly poisonous.

But on the other hand, texts that are edited without translation are really only half available.  They can sit there on library shelves, untranslated, hardly used, for centuries.

It’s all a question of time and resources.

If a scholar is sitting in his ivory tower, editing one text, then I expect him to supply a translation.  Any scholar who has the time to produce a text and commentary but doesn’t include a translation is being a jerk.

Likewise an enterprise with several hundred scholars and translators should certainly include translations.  Migne managed it, after all.

But if it’s a lone scholar (or two) editing masses of stuff, I think we can cut him some slack.  Don’t worry about the translation.  The priority is to get the stuff out there in multiple copies — yes, definitely on the web, where automated translation tools make using it easier all the time — and worry about the translation later.  The burning by the mob of the Institut de l’Egypte in Cairo this week is a reminder that no text is safe sitting in an archive.  If Addai Scher had remembered this, when he discovered Theodore of Mopsuestia’s De incarnatione in a complete Syriac version in the hills of northern Persia in 1905, and had published a transcription, we would today be able to study that interesting text.  Instead it perished in the sack of his residence by Turkish troops in 1915.

Go to it, Adam.

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ZDMG online?

I have just discovered what looks like all the issues of the Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft online, for free, up to 2005, here:

http://menadoc.bibliothek.uni-halle.de/dmg/periodical/structure/2327

It includes indexes, supplements and all. You can’t download whole volumes, but you can download the individual articles you want.  The scans are greyscale, and good quality.

This journal is very important for Syriac studies, I know.  Probably for Arabic also.  And it’s all here.  Wow.

I’m deeply impressed, and I deeply approve.  This is what we want to see from an academic journal.  The fact that we don’t have the last few years doesn’t matter a bit, except to specialists.  For the rest of us it’s a bonanza.  It doesn’t really matter that you can’t download whole volumes — you don’t really need to.

This is the shape of the future.

The collection online also includes digital books which the publishers have given the OK to put online — specialised monographs from 20 years ago, which are out of print and so not earning a bean any longer.  Well done, the publishers.

Who says that Germany doesn’t get the internet?  (Me, that’s who — and I’ve said it pretty often)  Not any more, it seems.

I hope these items show up in search engines, by the way…

(H/t AWOL)

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From my diary

The Roman medical writer Galen (ca. 190) mentions Jews and Christians in 6 places in his works.  This afternoon I have been trying to compose a sensible web page on these passages.

The passages were collected (more or less) by R. Walzer in his monograph, Galen on Jews and Christians (Oxford, 1949).  But the book is so badly put together that it is very difficult indeed for the reader to determine what precisely he is looking at.  You have to flip to and fro in the book, merely to find out what the source is for whatever he is quoting.  It is a terribly incoherent book.

One example of carelessness that I observed is that for passages 1-5 he mentions whether the work of Galen is in De libris propriis, Galen’s own list of his own works.  For passage 6 he does not bother (although I find that it is).

He often uses out of date texts; he gives a Latin version of a passage in Bar Hebraeus, while ignoring Budge’s English translation.

He starts a discussion of the Arabic witnesses to passage 6 with the latest, and then plunges into a confused discussion of parallel sources.  He gives something from most of these, but apparently forgets to actually give the text of Ibn al-Qifti, for instance.

Eh, lad, it’s hard work!

But I’m getting there.  I’m gradually bringing some order into it all, and, when it’s done, it will be truly done.

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Du Perac’s 1575 picture of the ruins of the Septizodium

I’ve posted before about the Septizodium (or Septizonium), an immense facade which ran across the front of the Palatine hill in Rome, in order to form a gateway for visitors coming up the Appian Way.  It’s all gone now, but parts of it still existed in Renaissance Rome, before being demolished for use as building materials.

Du Perac, in his collection of drawings of Rome in 1575, includes a picture of the remains of the Septizodium as he saw it.  Click on the image for a larger picture.

Septizonium, 1575 (Du Perac)

What makes his image useful is that he gives a panorama — we can see how the monument stood and looked, relative to the road outside the Palatine.  The Circus Maximus is to the left, while the road running right today leads up to the Colloseum.

I think all of us have walked down this road, from the Colloseum on our way to the Circus Maximus and the Baths of Caracalla, so the Septizodium would have been on our right.  I believe the modern pavement has a marking on it to show where it stood.

The image is from Gallica.bnf.fr.  I would hope that one day Du Perac’s book will appear online in a rather better quality image.

UPDATE: I had not realised that Du Perac also includes a view of the remains of the Septizodium from the side/rear, in a view of the Circus Maximus.  But he does!  Here  it is — the Septizodium is on the right of the Palatine.

Circus Maximus, Palatine and Septizodium (Du Perac, 1575)
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More images of the temple of the sun in Rome

This collection of old photos includes this 1850 image of some large slabs of masonry from the temple in the Giardini Colonna:

Temple of the Sun, Rome. G. Caneva, 1850

On this site I find another drawing: “Il Tempio del Sole e il Palazzo del Quirinale, 1616.” by Aloisio Giovannoli:

Sadly the image is too small for me to even read the writing at the bottom. The view is looking towards the brand new Palazzo di Quirinale, completed in 1616.

A bunch of images of fragments from the temple, taken in 1910, are here.  None are especially interesting.

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Another image of the ruins of the Temple of Sol Invictus

I was surfing around, trying to locate the “Colonna gardens” or “Giardino Colonna” when I stumbled across this site, and quickly found myself looking at yet another old engraving of the ruins of the temple.  But this page is actually dedicated to the monument, and includes photos of ancient brickwork from the area.

The towers on the front of the wall are medieval, part of the Colonna family fortress.

The image comes from Giuseppe Vasi, Delle Magnificenze di Roma Antica e Moderna, book 10, plate 193, ii (1761), reprinting an image from 1565 by Bernardo Gamucci.  Apparently the Vasi book does contain another view of the ruins.

The Rome Art Lover site is itself well worth exploring — a feast of materials and photographs, and not just from Rome.

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David Ulansey to bring out new book on Mithras?

A little while ago I read and reviewed David Ulansey’s well-known  book on the Origins of the Mithraic Mysteries.  The book has remained in print for many years now.

On his website, there is an interesting announcement:

I am also currently finishing a new book for Oxford called The Other Christ: The Mysteries of Mithras and the Origins of Christianity.

I wonder what this is.  I have written to him, anyway, to enquire.

This year, as every year, we get the less pleasant kind of atheist going around the web jeering “Jesus is really Mithras! Har! Har”.  It happens less than it did, since some of us took to combatting it, but, besides being anti-social, it does Mithras studies no good at all.  We are unlikely to establish how it felt to be initiated into the cult, while we have our minds full of anachronism.

UPDATE: 2nd Jan. 2012 — In case anyone asks, I didn’t get a reply; but of course the email address may be out of date, or he may be away.

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More on Aurelian’s temple of the sun

A commenter added some very useful links to my last post on this.  The following is another drawing (from here) of the ruins of the temple of Sol Invictus, as they were before 1704, in a drawing by Jan Goeree.  The top bit is uninteresting, but the portrait at the bottom is another matter.

The same commenter pointed out that Bill Thayer has an article online with much useful content about this edifice.  The article adds that it might, indeed, not be Aurelian’s temple at all, but rather a temple of Serapis.  Here is what it says about the ruins (over-paragraphed by me):

In the gardens of the Palazzo Colonna considerable remains of a great temple were standing in the sixteenth century, consisting principally of part of the cella wall of peperino and the north (right) corner of the façade and pediment. This was known as the Torre Mesa, Torre di Mecenate, and Frontispizio di Nerone; LR, fig. 166 from Du Pérac,º Vestigi, pl. 31 (1575).

Part of these ruins were removed at the end of the fifteenth century, and more between 1549 and 1555, but the final destruction of the Torre itself was not effected until about 1630 (LS III.203‑205, and earlier references there given).

Numerous drawings and plans of these ruins are extant, made by the architects and artists of the period, from Sangallo [2] (Barb. 63v., 65, 65v., 68v.) in the fifteenth century to Giovannoli (Ill. 47) and Donati in the early seventeenth century (for list see HJ 422, n79; LS loc. cit.; DuP 141);[3] the plans, however, by their differences in detail show that they have been arbitrarily filled in.

The building stood on the edge of the hill, on the west side of the present Via della Consulta, and extended due east and west, with a great flight of steps leading from the platform at the rear of the cella to the plain some 20 metres below.

This flight was curiously built, being divided into double narrow rows of steps on each side with a central space. The temple area was surrounded with a wall containing niches but not with the usual porticus. The cella was built of peperino lined with marble, and was surrounded by marble columns in front and on the sides. The shafts of these columns were 17.66, the capitals 2.47, and the entablature 4.83 metres in height.

The corner of the pediment now lying in the Colonna gardens is the largest architectural fragment in Rome, its dimensions being 3.70 by 2.80 by 3.90 metres, and its weight 100 tons.

[2] His plan is the only one that is trustworthy.
[3] Add Meded. Nederl. Hist. Inst. VII.1927, 89‑92.

Interesting to learn that a 100-ton corner of the pediment still exists.  Does anyone have a photograph?

The article above includes a great number of abbreviations, which makes it rather hard to look any of the items up.  What I’d like to see is some of the pictures and plans.

Du Perac is Etienne du Perac, Vestigi Dell’Antichita Di Roma, Rome, 1575, that much I can find.  It seems to be online at Gallica here, although the quality is very poor indeed.  But even from this I can see that Du Perac’s book must be stunning, if one could get a decent copy.  Here’s his picture:

(Du Perac also includes an image of the Septizonium!)

I found that Smith, Dictionary of Greek and Roman geography, vol. 2, p.830, also has an article on the Aurelian monument:

By those who assume it to have been on the Quirinal it is identified with the remains of a very large building, on the declivity of the hill, in the Colonna gardens, on which spot a large Mithraic stone was discovered with the inscription “Soli Invicto.” (Vignoli, de Columna Antoniniana, p 174). This position may be very well reconciled with all the accounts respecting the temple. Becker that it is mentioned in the Notitia in the 7th Region (Via Lata). But this Region adjoined the western side of the Quirinal and the temple of the Sun may have been recorded in it just as buildings on the declivity of the Aventine are enumerated in the 11th Region or Circus Maximus. In the Catalogus Imperatorum Vienn. (ii p 246 Ronc.) it is said of Aurelian, “Templum Solis Castra in Campo Agrippae dedicavit” and it will appear in the next section that the Campus Agrippae must have been situated under this part of the Quirinal. …

Vignoli is online here, and the item proves to be a tauroctony, 4 “palmos” high and 8 broad, found in the Colonna temple.

Does this really have anything to do with the temple?

But I’d still like to see a collection of all the images and floor plans of this monument!

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Ibn Abi Usaibia, “History of Physicians” now online

I have finally completed the transcription of the 1954 English translation by Lothar Kopf of Ibn Abi Usaibia, History of Physicians.  It may be found here.

I have divided the file into three sections, chapters 1-5, 6-10 and 11-15 respectively.  I have also written an introduction.

All this material is public domain — use it as you will.

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Hunting for Ibn Abi Usaibia in Brockelmann

I want to know some details about an Arabic writer.  I look in Brockelmann’s Geschichte der arabischen Literatur, right?

It’s not very easy.  My first port of call was the index.  But this is in a strange order, and also heavily abbreviated.  After a lot of effort, I gave up.

My next thought was to look in the table of contents in each volume for “medezin” and look at each section.  Luckily I already know when he lived — he died in 1270 AD — so all I have to do is find the right one.  A search in the first edition draws a blank.  Ditto one in the last section of the 2nd ed.  But the latter does refer to “b.a.Us.” under each medical writer.  That’s our boy, of course, heavily abbreviated.  So he must be here somewhere.

Eventually I find, on p.265 of vol. 1 of the 2nd ed., in what is evidently the first section dedicated to medical writers, that it starts with a few general works.  And “Ibn a. Usaibi`a” is the first of these, and — blessedly — “S. 325/6”, i.e. look at p.325-6.  It also gives the edition as by Muller, Konigsberg, 1884, which is wrong — it’s Cairo, 1882.

Except p.325-6 doesn’t contain our boy.  “S” must mean “Supplement”, then?  Nope.  Suppl. 1, p.325 contains nothing of the kind.  Or is it supplement 2?  Nope.

Is it possible, is it really possible… that this muppet means “page 325-6 of the first edition”?  And … yes he does!  Hallelujah!  And it’s in section “personalgeschichte”, which means that the corresponding section in the supplement and 2nd edition should now be findable.  And indeed, on p.397-8 of the 2nd edition, there’s more about Ibn Abi Usaibia.  There’s even the numeral “325” in the margin.

I hope that I am giving some impression of the despair that anyone in a hurry must feel, confronted with this mess.   How we need some Arabist — or group of Arabists! — to produce a usable handbook!

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