Here’s a fascinating post on Twitter here, by Emily Tilley:
In 1850 two brothers digging peat on Grewelthorpe Moor found a Roman bog body wearing a green toga, scarlet robe, & yellow stockings. A policeman prevented the destruction of the remains & saved this hobnailed shoe sole, insole, & stocking fragment.
For more information I was referred to R. C. Turner, M. Rhodes and J. P. Wild, “The Roman Body Found on Grewelthorpe Moor in 1850: A Reappraisal”, Britannia 22 (1991) pp. 191-201. (JSTOR) From this I learn that the shoe is indeed Roman, although it could belong to any period during the Roman occupation. The second item is a woolen insole, intended to pad the shoe which was old and had been repaired before its loss.
Primary sources are very thin. Turner writes in 1991:
The body was found in 1850 by two brothers, Edwin and John Grainge, of Castiles Farm, Kirkby Malzeard, whilst digging for peat. No exactly contemporary accounts of the discovery are known; the two local newspapers were not founded until around 1855. Our knowledge of the find is based on two somewhat later descriptions.
He then mentions “T. Heslington, On Roman Camps in the Neighbourhood of Ripon, Ripon: Johnson and co (1867)”, but had no access to this and seem to have doubted that it existed. We who live in the age of the internet can quickly discover a number of copies accessible in UK libraries, including at least one copy in the library at York Minster! Turner was forced to rely on a quotation, which is as follows:
A few years ago some workmen digging for peat on a farm, on the moors near Kirkby Malzeard, made one of the most extraordinary discoveries, of its nature, ever disclosed. This was the body of a man – evidently an ancient Roman – which the peat had tanned, dried and preserved in a remarkable manner, like (as the people say who saw it) an Egyptian Mummy. The robes were quite perfect and the material tough – having been tanned and preserved by some natural agency. The toga was of a green colour, and some of the dress of scarlet material; the stockings of a yellow cloth, and the sandals cut out in a beautiful shape – like those found in the Thames some years ago – and were likewise finely stitched. Unfortunately this marvellously preserved relic of the peat was nearly destroyed before the Kirkby Malzeard policeman arrived, but he managed to secure the stockings and sandals – perhaps the only mementoes now remaining of this strange discovery.
The other source is an account by W. Grainge – possibly related to the finders? – in the Ripon Millenary, part 2 (1892), preface, p.ix. This is online here, but is brief:
The most remarkable discovery connected with this period was made in the spring of 1850, by Edwin and John Grainge, while digging peat on Grewelthorpe Moor, when they came upon the body of a man, in an almost complete state of preservation, and from his dress evidently a Roman, which the peat had tanned and dried, in a remarkable manner, somewhat like an Egyptian mummy. The robes were quite perfect when found, the toga of a green colour, while some portions of the dress were of a scarlet hue; the stockings were of yellow cloth, and the sandals of a finely artistic shape, one of which was preserved, and we believe is now in the museum of the Yorkshire Philosophical Society. The flesh was tanned into a kind of white fatty substance, and had a very offensive smell. No coins or weapons were found about the body. He was probably some wanderer who had lost his way and perished in the bog, in which he had no doubt reposed for 1400 years. The remains were finally interred in the churchyard of Kirkby Malzeard.
Turner states that no such grave is now identifiable in the churchyard. Possibly an enquiry in church records might reveal more. The shoe and clothing fragments are grouped together under Yorkshire Museum Accession Number H 2053.
The article itself is very dry, but a few points stand out.
The diamond arrangement of the thong-slots constitutes the most diagnostic feature of the Grewelthorpe shoe. Shoes with diamond thong-slot patterns are unknown on the continent. With the exception of Caernarfon, they are also absent on sites in the south of Britain…
On present evidence, therefore, the diamond arrangement of thong-slots might occur on shoes of any date between the late first and mid third centuries. The terminal date in particular must remain open due to the paucity of evidence of late Roman shoes.
What we know of Roman fashion in Britain suggests that the ‘toga’ should be construed as a rectangular cloak. That ‘some of the dress was of scarlet material’ may mean that he was wearing a tunic with two purple stripes (clavi) down the front in Roman style. The stockings, while practical, were distinctly rustic in tone. It can only be regretted that the Kirkby Malzeard policeman did not arrive earlier to save more of the clothing of this remarkable find.
Despite being found 140 years ago, the chance survival of an associated shoe-sole confirms that Grewelthorpe Man died during the period of Roman occupation. …
From the circumstances surrounding the other bodies from British upland bogs, particularly those from historic times, it seems unlikely that Grewelthorpe Man was the victim of a ritual sacrifice. He probably died through exposure or other natural causes and was buried by chance in the bog. This led to the survival of his clothing, which appeared to retain its full range of colours. The description of his rather rustic garb and his badly repaired and uncomfortable shoe in balance suggest that he was a civilian rather than a soldier.
I had never heard of the Grewelthorpe body. What a marvellous find! What a pity that no photograph was taken!
The French National Library has a great mass of medieval manuscripts online at its Gallica site. Finding them, however, can be very tricky.
Some time back, a genius drew a chart of how to do this. It does work – my rather Covid-addled memory tells me only that I did work through it. I probably wrote something about it here, but I can no longer locate it.
Today I found a copy of the picture on my desktop. Unfortunately I don’t know who drew this (if you do, please shout!) and I thought I’d pass it on. Magic.
How to find a specific manuscript call number BNF.
Update: Nov. 2022. The step 2 doesn’t work but the department de manuscrits page is here.
An email last night brought with it a text and English translation of a Coptic text, Abbot Shenoute “I have heard about your wisdom” (the Discourse in the presence of Flavian or Ad Flavianum ducem), made by Dr Anthony Alcock. Alin Suciu has discussed this text somewhat here. The slightly unusual title is in fact the incipit.
The works of Shenoute seem to have remained determinedly offline, yet this forceful figure of the late 4th-early 5th century is exceedingly important in the history of Coptic Christianity, and the transition from official paganism to official Christianity. It is very good to have at least something online! Thank you.
The big news is that Dr Isabella Image has today very kindly sent me a rather wonderful draft translation of an anonymous 4th century text, De solstitiis et aequinoctiis, about which I have written before. It’s never been translated before into any modern language, and it is full of interesting things. The author suggests that Christ and John the Baptist were conceived and born on the solstices and equinoxes, and argues this from the bible. The argument made is not entirely convincing to modern eyes, but it is very revealing of 4th century thinking. I hope to make this available online very soon.
The other news is that the postman brought me a copy of a French PhD thesis which I ordered from the ANRT last weekend. It comes handsomely bound, in standard softback academic book format. It’s certainly a huge step up from the pile of letter-sized photocopies that ProQuest send out. Indeed it is almost worth the huge sum that I paid for it. It contains an unpublished translation, about which I will post further another time. I wish I could have had a PDF, tho.
I’ve also placed my first inter-library loan for some time, for a volume of Charles W. Jones on Bede. This apparently contains a discussion of the manuscripts of the Irish computus forgeries. This was a loose end from my post a little while back about “Theophilus of Caesarea”, and I’ll post if I find something interesting. It will be interesting to see if ILL’s are working again. It will also be interesting to see what they charge me!
I learned a word this week. The word is “scrupulosity”, meaning a self-tormenting and obsessive worry about committing minor sins. I learned of it from a twitter thread here, where some devout Roman Catholics were discussing some less than ideal behaviour by religious orders:
@jdflynn: When I was in college, I knew a lot of guys who heard Legionaries of Christ vocations directors tell them that: a: they definitely had a vocation b: the only way to meaningfully live that vocation was to join the Legion. That’s not spiritual advice. That’s manipulative coercion.
@LeahLibresco: A friend of mine was entangled by a women’s order that counseled everyone that if you wondered about a vocation, that meant you *did* have a vocation, and any other questions or doubts were from the devil. They were placing thorns in her path and millstones round their own necks …
@RCPreKTeacher: Good grief. Speaking as someone who has struggled with scrupulosity in the past, I cannot imagine what a terrible situation it would be going to the priests of such orders as your regular confessors, if that’s the kind of spiritual advice the order is giving regularly.
@LeahLibresco: It is terrible spiritual abuse. It does serious harm to the person counseled and puts the counselor in intense spiritual danger
The term seems to originate in the Roman Catholic world. There is a useful article, “Scrupulosity: What It Is and How to Overcome it” by Charlie Johnson at the Catholic Stand website (21 May 2016) here, referencing Bernard of Clairvaux in the 12th century.
The Wikipedia article suggests that this religious problem in some cases may be the manifestation of a form of OCD (Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder). Under the “History” section of that article we find this interesting statement:
Scrupulosity is a modern-day psychological problem that echoes a traditional use of the term scruples in a religious context, e.g. by Catholics, to mean obsessive concern with one’s own sins and compulsive performance of religious devotion. This use of the term dates to the 12th century.[14]
There’s no mention of Bernard. But I was interested in the idea that the term “scrupulosity” dates to the 12th century (the careless wording of the Wikipedia article might lead the unwary to suppose that “scruples” is meant here). So I looked up the Taylor article, which contained the following statement on p.297:
Scrupulosity actually dates back to the twelfth century. It is derived from the Latin word scrupus. Scrupulus is the diminutive form, meaning a small stone. The neutral form scrupulum is the smallest division of weight, about the twenty-fourth part of an ounce. This tiny amount could tip the balance of a scale (Rapoport, 1989).
This claim, in varied wording, appears all over the place. So what is the reference?
“Rapoport” turned out to be Judith L. Rapoport, The boy who couldn’t stop washing: The experience and treatment of obsessive-compulsive disorder. New York: E. P. Dutton (1989). No page number was given. A borrowable version of this book may be found here, which I consulted.
The page is actually page 237, an appendix on “The Religious Perspective”, beginning with “The Catholic Church and OCD”. The text began:
The Catholic perspective on OCD constitutes a vast literature which has remained untapped by mainstream psychiatry. The Catholic concept of scrupulosity dates back at least to the twelfth century. It is derived from the Latin scrupus, whose diminutive form scrupulus means a small sharp stone. The neutral form, scrupulum, means the smallest division of weight, the twenty-fourth part of an ounce. A minute weight could tip the scales of a sensitive balance: the scales of conscience.
Scrupulosity, in the New Catholic Encyclopedia (1967) signifies “habitual and unreasonable hesitation or doubt, coupled with anxiety of the mind, in connection with the making of moral judgments.”
The Rapoport volume is, I believe, the founding text of the study of OCD, and contains anecdotal “cases” of various sorts. In 1989 there was little understanding of the condition. Much of what Rapoport suggests has simply been repeated word-for-word in later publications.
There is often a tendency for unbelievers studying mental illness to conflate normal religious experience with mental illness. This does not always happen by accident. Those of my own generation remember how the old Soviet Union used to confine believers in mental hospitals, and subject them to “treatment” in order to “cure” them. It has been many years since I have heard mention of this charming practice, but then so much of the past that I remember has disappeared, or been disappeared, in the last 30 years. The Rapoport volume seems to strive to avoid this, which is perhaps one reason why it received wide acceptance.
It took me some searching and a happy accident to discover that the first edition of the New Catholic Encyclopedia (1967) is actually accessible on Archive.org, although only in “borrowable” form. The article on “Scrupulosity” appears in volume 12, p.1253 f. It is, in fact, the last article in the book. Unfortunately it is vague and useless. It does not refer to the “12th century” claim. Bootleg copies of the second edition (2002) are readily accessible on the web, but the article is no better.
It is therefore impossible to say from where Rapoport drew her statement.
The word “scrupulositas” itself is ancient. The Logeion site here shows usage by Columella, Tertullian, and Jerome. Indeed I find that it appears in Bernard’s Letters, Letter 101 (PL 182, col.236). A translation from the PL text may be found in the old Life and Works of Saint Bernard, vol. 1 (1893), p.342-3 online here.
I’ll give the relevant bit of Latin, and the whole of letter 101.
Fratrem Lambertum, quem in aliquibus forte fluctuantem suscepimus, orantibus quidem vobis pro ipso constantem remisimus, et nulla jam, ut opinamur, scrupulositate pristina laborantem. …
101. Bernard asks that a monk who had departed without permission should be received with kindness.
I send back to you Brother Lambert, whom I received, in some respects wavering in mind, but to whom your prayers have restored calm, so that he is not, as I think, labouring any more under his former scrupulosity. I have carefully questioned him about the cause of his coming, and also about the reason and manner of his departure. He does not seem to me to have had any bad intention in acting as he has done ; but his reason for leaving in such a manner, that is, without permission, was plainly insufficient. I took occasion from this to blame him as he deserved, to chide him sharply, to remove his hesitations and doubts, and to persuade him to return to you. Now that he is returning, I entreat you, my very dear brethren, to receive him kindly, and to be indulgent to the presumption of a brother in which there is more simplicity than malice, since he turned neither to the right nor left, but came straight to me, whom he knew for certain to be the devoted servant of your Holiness, a very sincere lover and faithful imitator of your piety. Receive him, therefore, you who are spiritual men, in a spirit of gentleness ; let your charity be confirmed towards him, and let his good intention excuse his bad action. Therefore, receive him back with joy, whom, when lost, you grieved for; and let gladness at the return of your brother speedily chase away the grief caused by his transgression and departure. I trust that, by the mercy of God, all the bitterness which his irregular departure occasioned will be soon softened by this improvement in his life.
But there is nothing in this letter indicative of anything like the modern OCD-like condition. But I am slightly reminded of the twitter thread with which we started: “Another one has gone over the wall!!! Call out the dogs!” We do not learn what the poor monks’ scruples were.
At this point a search in the Corpus Corporum site gave a proper lead: to Hugutius Pisanus, Derivationes, written in 1190. We could perhaps call him some version of Hugh, or Huguccio, or Uguccio of Pisa. The text is a dictionary of Latin terms.
He starts with scrupus, “a small sharp stone”, also called scrupulus. And by similarity these are called “molestia, sollicitudo, anxietas et dubietas animi, difficultas, subtilis questio”. From scrupus he gets scrupeus -a -um, and scruposus -a -um, full of scruple, and thus scrupulositas, and promptly quotes Plautus (!). From scrupulus he gets the verb scrupulo -as, the adjective scrupulosus -a -um, from which scrupulositas, anxiety, difficulty, etc. Here’s the Corpus Corporum text, from the SISMEL text (ed. Cecchini, 2 vols, 2004) p.272:
Et a scrupus scrupeus -a -um et scruposus -a -um, idest scrupis plenus et abundans vel asper, difficilis, nodosus, obscurus, et comparatur; unde hec scrupositas; Plautus in Captivis ‘nec meus scruposam victus commeat viam’.
Item a scrupulus scrupulo -as, idest sollicitare, molestare, et scrupulosus -a -um, scrupulis plenus vel asper, anxius, dubius, difficilis, nodosus, obscurus, et comparatur; unde hec scrupulositas, anxietas, difficultas et cetera.
This 12th century text, perhaps, lies behind whatever source Rapoport was looking at – which clearly had some Latin grammatical element -, and thus is still reflected in all those who copied her.
Whether scrupulosity is the right word for a form of OCD may reasonably be doubted, however. It seems to have a broader, less obsessive context.
Computer programs need to calculate the date of Easter sometimes. In the PHP programming language, there is a function, easter_date, which is used for the purpose. The manual page is here, and is really rather good!
The date of Easter Day was defined by the Council of Nicaea in AD325 as the Sunday after the first full moon which falls on or after the Spring Equinox. The Equinox is assumed to always fall on 21st March, so the calculation reduces to determining the date of the full moon and the date of the following Sunday. The algorithm used here was introduced around the year 532 by Dionysius Exiguus. Under the Julian Calendar (for years before 1753) a simple 19-year cycle is used to track the phases of the Moon. Under the Gregorian Calendar (for years after 1753 – devised by Clavius and Lilius, and introduced by Pope Gregory XIII in October 1582, and into Britain and its then colonies in September 1752) two correction factors are added to make the cycle more accurate.
Well, we’ve all seen very much worse explanations than that!
The date is the first full moon after the equinox.
The “equinox” is deemed to be March 21st (it wobbles a bit in reality).
The phases of the moon are calculated based on a 19-year cycle.
Dionysius Exiguus produced the modern version of the calculation, for the Julian calendar.
The Gregorian calendar tweaked it for accuracy.
I could only wish that our succinct author had also stated what are these “correction factors” in the Gregorian system.
The big omission from that page is any indication of why we want the first Sunday after the full moon after the equinox. The reason is that the first full moon after the equinox is passover. This festival predated the solar calendar, so is calculated by the moon. Jesus was executed on passover, and rose on… the Sunday after. Easter celebrates that event.
It is so uncommon to see all these details put together, that there are many people who suppose that a weird date based on the moon must be prehistoric pagan or something. Nobody is taught this. It is never explained.
Of course the PHP function is purely concerned with the mathematics. But at least it states these very correctly.
It is rather a delight to see a clear and concise statement of the main points of the calculation.
I work a lot with Latin texts. So I use my own QuickLatin tool a lot, in order to do so. Over the last few weeks I have found myself drawn to work on it some more. I’m adding in some context-sensitive syntax information, as this is the area that my schoolboy Latin is weakest in. I’m also working on the parser some more.
A couple of days ago I ran the whole of the Vulgate through the program, to see what happened. This took a ridiculously long time – speed has not been my priority for a long while – but I was glad to find that only a few dozen words were not recognised. So I’m looking at these. In some cases this simply requires an addition to the dictionary. In others it reveals subtle problems.
Most of the Latin texts that I am working with at the moment are medieval, and their authors knew the Vulgate very well indeed. So making sure that QuickLatin can handle late Latin usage is time well-spent.
At some point I ought to do another release of the tool online. It’s been a very long time since I have done so. But again the priority is to work on the code.
Meanwhile my backlog of items which I hope to blog about grows ever longer! But while I feel in the mood to do some programming, then I will go with it.
Recently I found myself wondering about the Latin verb, and specifically the “mood” – indicative, subjunctive, imperative, and so on. Partly this came about after I read a blog post on the Dyspepsia Generation blog, on “Latin by the Dowling method”, whatever that might be. The blog as a whole is a long-running US right-wing politics blog and aggregator, which is always to be found at dyspepsiageneration.com, but often is not found in Google search results. The author incidentally offered this advice:
With respect to verbs, whenever you see ‘mood’ pronounce it ‘mode’ out loud; eventually when you see ‘mood’ you will hear ‘mode’ in your head and the amount of confusion in your life will dramatically decrease. (If I ever find the guy who tagged this aspect of the verb with such a confusing name, I will smite him with a mighty smite.)
I confess that I often find “mood” a confusing label, and I think that’s quite a good precept.
Equally odd is the question of whether the infinitive is a mood or not. If you use QuickLatin or Whitaker’s Words, you find it treated as if it is. But a google search reveals disagreement.
Much of our Latin grammar vocabulary comes to us from antiquity. So, in such cases, it can be illuminating to examine Donatus, the 4th century grammarian – and teacher of St Jerome – whose Ars Minor was a standard Latin teaching text for a millennium. Intratext have the Latin here. If we look in De Verbo, we find:
Modi qui sunt? Indicativus, ut lego, imperativus, ut lege, optativus, ut utinam legerem, coniunctivus, ut cum legam, infinitivus, ut legere, inpersonalis, ut legitur.
That’s pretty clear, but usefully there is a 1926 English translation, which is public domain and freely downloadable (for once) at Hathi here.[1]
Verbum quid est? Pars orationis cum tempore et persona sine casu aut agere aliquid aut pati aut neutrum significans. Verbo quot accidunt? Septem. Quae? Qualitas coniugatio genus numerus figura tempus persona. Qualitas verborum in quo est? In modis et in formis. Modi qui sunt? Indicativus, ut lego, imperativus, ut lege, optativus, ut utinam legerem, coniunctivus, ut cum legam, infinitivus, ut legere, inpersonalis, ut legitur. Formae verborum quot sunt? Quattuor. Quae? Perfecta, ut lego, meditativa, ut lecturio, frequentativa, ut lectito, inchoativa, ut fervesco calesco. Coniugationes verborum quot sunt? Tres. Quae? Prima secunda tertia. …
What is a verb? A part of speech with tense and person, without case, signifying “to perform some action,” or “to suffer,” or neither. How many attributes has the verb? Seven. What? Quality, conjugation, gender, number, inflection, tense, person. In what does the quality of verbs consist? In modes and in forms. What are the modes? Indicative, as lego; imperative, as lege; optative, as utinam legerem; subjunctive, as cum legam; infinitive, as legere; impersonal, as legitur. How many forms of verbs are there? Four. What? Undefined, as lego; desiderative, as lecturio; frequentative, as lectito; inchoative, as fervesco, calesco. How many conjugations of verbs are there? Three. What? First, second, third. …
How interesting to see that Donatus knows nothing of our “mood”; to him it is simply “mode”, just as the Dyspepsia Generation blogger suggested. I wonder if perhaps our English word has suffered damage through the spelling and vowel changes that have affected our language since the 17th century, leaving behind a now-meaningless “mood” which was once simply “mode”?
Likewise we find that, for Donatus, the infinitive is indeed a “mode” or “mood”. No doubt this is the origin of the tendency to so classify it in English, because it really doesn’t fit well with the indicative and subjunctive.
Casus nominum quot sunt? Sex. Qui? Nominativus genetivus dativus accusativus vocativus ablativus. Per hos omnium generum nomina pronomina participia declinantur hoc modo:
magister nomen appellativum generis masculini numeri singularis figurae simplicis casus nominativi et vocativi, quod declinabitur sic: nominativo hic magister, genetivo huius magistri, dativo huic magistro, accusativo hunc magistrum, ablativo ab hoc magistro; et pluraliter nominativo hi magistri, genetivo horum magistrorum, dativo his magistris, accusativo hos magistros, vocativo o magistri, ablativo ab his magistris.
The cases of nouns are how many? Six. What? Nominative, genitive, dative, accusative, vocative, ablative. Through these, nouns, pronouns, and participles of all genders are declined in this way:
Magister is a common noun of masculine gender, singular number, simple form, nominative and vocative case, which will be declined thus: in the nominative, hie magister; in the genitive, huius magistri; in the dative, huic magistro; in the accusative, hunc magistrum; in the ablative, ab hoc magistro; and in the plural in the nominative, hi magistri; in the genitive, horum magistrorum; in the dative, his magistris; in the accusative, hos magistros; in the vocative, O magistri; in the ablative, ab his magistris.
Here again in English we have a funny word, “noun”, when Latin simply has “name”.
Those funny words like “nominative”, “vocative”… and “decline”; they are the Latin terms, brought straight across.
It’s fascinating to see. These are examples of one of the commonest things in our world: many things in our own day make no sense at all, unless you happen to know just how they came about, and the path by which we came to them.
[1]W. J. Chase, The Ars Minor of Donatus: For one thousand years the leading textbook of grammar. translated from the Latin with introductory sketch, Madison (1926)↩
While looking through Google Books, I came across a valuable footnote in Paul A. Hartog, The Contemporary Church and the Early Church: Case Studies in Ressourcement (Wipf & Stock, 2010). There seem to be no page numbers in the preview, but the note is linked to here. The underlining is mine.
88. … To his credit, Bercot does list several “common mistakes” in his Dictionary of Early Christian Beliefs: first, the danger of proof-texting; second, to assume that early Christian writers “were making dogmatic theological pronouncements every time they spoke”; third, “We also must be careful not to read technical or post-Nicene meanings into theological terms used by the pre-Nicene Christians.” Bercot, Dictionary of Early Christian Beliefs, xii-xiii.
This struck me as a beautifully brief summary of some obvious pitfalls.
Dr Bercot actually wrote at more length (p.xii):
Perhaps the most common mistake would be to employ this resource as a database for proof-texts. It would be tempting to sift through it, noting quotations that bolster our personal beliefs and discarding those that do not fit. Such an approach, however, inevitably misuses the early Christian writings. By selectively choosing quotations, we make it appear that the early Christians believed exactly as we do (which is sometimes not the case). In short, instead of learning from those close to the apostles in time and spirit, we simply use them for our own designs.
Another common mistake is to read the early Christian writers as though these writers were making dogmatic theological pronouncements every time they spoke. Generally, the pre-Nicene Christian writers were not attempting to define precise points of dogma for the rest of the church. Most of their theological discussions come up in the context of either (1) explaining to outsiders what Christians believed or (2) contrasting the tenets of particular heretics with what the general body of Christians believed. They were not normally trying to convince other “orthodox” Christians what to believe.
We also must be careful not to read technical or post-Nicene meanings into theological terms used by the pre-Nicene Christians. Very rarely did “orthodoxy” (itself a fifth-century term) in the early church turn on the issue of using thisword instead of thatword. The early Christians understood orthodoxy in terms of general concepts, not meticulous theological definitions. As Clement of Alexandria put it, “Those who are particular about words, and devote their time to them, miss the point of the whole picture” (ANF 2.347). Although theology was important to the early church, it took a back seat to living the Christian life.
Now here’s an interesting claim! It is rather seasonal, and was posted cialis online on Christmas Day, and is here:
Theophilus (A.D. 115-181), bishop of Caesarea in Palestine writes: “We ought to celebrate the birthday of Our Lord on what day soever the 25th of December shall happen. – Magdeburgenses, Cent. 2. c. 6. Hospinian, De origine Festorum Christianorum.”
The same words with the same references float around the web, and also in book form, but they are much older. It appears word-for-word in ‘Pastor Fido’s (= Allan Blayney’s) Festorum Metropolis (1652: downloadable from 25thdec.info, here), p.16.[1] There are all sorts of fake claims that circulate. When a quote is only referenced to early modern sources, and no ancient source is ever mentioned, then it is usually wise to be suspicious. Not infrequently even the references are wrong in these things.
Firstly, Theophilus of Caesarea is historical, although those dates are uncertain, and I have seen as late as 195 AD mentioned. He’s mentioned by Jerome (De viris illustribus 43), who got a short quotation from Eusebius of a now lost work on Easter (HE 5, c.23, 25). But we have no works of this Theophilus. So how can the quote be genuine?
The answer is a slightly strange one. I’ve looked up amoxil the references, and they are real. But neither reference indicates where the words come from. With a lot of googling, I have discovered that there is an early medieval forgery, written in Ireland around 600 AD, which purports to be the record of a synod at Caesarea, led by this Theophilus, discussing how to calculate the date of Easter. These words come from one version of this obscure text.
There is no agreed title for this work. We might call it pseudo-Theophilus, DePascha; or maybe De ordinatione feriarum paschalium per Theophilum episcopum Caesariensem, (On the arrangment of Easter festivals by Theophilus, bishop of Alexandria) since that is the title under which a shorter version of it was first published, back in 1537. The title does not seem to correspond to anything in the manuscripts, so was presumably dreamt up by the editor. It’s not in the Clavis Patrum Latinorum, because the editors gave up once they reached the spuria of the Venerable Bede, among which it is sometimes found.
So that is our source. The quote is not genuine – Theophilus never said it -, but it is not modern either. This material is an abbreviated quote from a 7th century Irish text on the date of Easter.
That’s the conclusion. So what is it based on?
The references
Let’s start with the references. They are quite genuine, and they are reputable sources, although very elderly.
The first source is none other than the mighty Centuriae Magdeburgensese, the Magdeburg Centuries. This early modern history of Christianity dedicated a volume to every century of Christian history. It appeared between 1559-74. The work was rather a pioneer in the use of primary sources. Volume 2 (1759) covered the second century, and in chapter 6, page 126-7, we find a section De festis Christianorum, ac primum de Paschate(On Christian holidays, and first, on Easter). It’s online here.
The relevant section reads as follows:
Cum contra Galli diem vnum anniuersarium, qui fuit VIII. calend Aprilium, obseruarent, in quo pascha celebrarent dicentes, vt THEOPHILVS indicat: Quid nobis necesse est ad lunae computum cum Iudaeis pascha facere? Quin sicut Domini natalem quocunque die VIII Calendarum Ianuarii venerit: ita et VIII Calend Aprilis quando resurrectio accidit, Christi debemus pascha celebrare.
While on the other hand the Gauls were observing one day annually, which was the 8 kalends of April (March 25), on which they were celebrating Easter, saying, as Theophilus indicates, “Why is it necessary for us to make an Easter calculation of the moon with the Jews? In fact, just as we ought to celebrate the birthday of the Lord on whatever day the 8 kalends of January (25 December) shall fall, so also (we ought to celebrate) the Easter of Christ on the day of 8 kalends of April, when the resurrection https://www.sages.org/ambien-online/ happened.
The second source is Rudolf Hospinian, in his Festa Christianorum (1593), chapter 25, De Natali Domini ac Servatoris. His account of starts on folio 109v – for the book is not paginated but foliated. On f.110 here he writes:
Celebrata fuit à nonnullis 25 die Decembris, iam inde ab antiquißimis temporibus. Intelligitur hoc ex Theophilo Cæsareae Palestinae Episcopo qui docet, Gallos diem vnum anniuersarium qui fuit 8 Calend Apriliam in celebratione Paschatis obseruasse idque, hac ratione defendisse: “Sicut Domini Natalem quocunque die 8 Calend. Ianuari venerit, ita & 8. Calend. Aprilis, quando resurrectio accidit, Christi debemus Pascha celebrare.” Ex Caßiani verò argumento Epistolarum Theophili libris Paschalibus praefixo, apparet, Ægyptios Natiuitatem Domini & Baptismum eiusdem, eodem die quem Epiphaniam appellat, celebrasse: quod etiam Hugo in cap 1 Matthaei de Armenijs testatur.
It has been celebrated by some on the 25th December, indeed, from the most ancient times. This is understood from bishop Theophilus of Caesarea in Palestine who teaches that the Gauls observed one day annually which was the 8 kalend April in celebration of Easter, and defended it by this reason: “Just as (we ought to celebrate) the nativity of the Lord on whatever day the 8 kalends of January shall fall, so also we ought to celebrate Easter on the 8 kalends of April, when the resurrection happened.” However from Cassian, from the argument of the letters of Theophilus prefixed to the Paschal Books, it appears that the Egyptians celebrated the nativity of the Lord and also his baptism on the same day called Epiphany: as also Hugo gives as evidence in chapter 1 of Matthew to the Armenians (?).
Hospinian, then, is the immediate source of our quotation. Most likely he is just paraphrasing the Magdeburg Centuries. But neither the Centuriators nor Hospinian give any primary source for this text.
It is worth noting the mention of the customs of Gaul as if they were a source of authority. A bishop of Caesarea in Palestine would not tend to see things this way. This is a first sign that something is not quite right with this text.
My next step was to start googling for the Latin words quoted. This led me to the Bainton article in JSTOR – of which more below. But Bainton was extremely vague about just what text it was that he was quoting. He referenced a book by a 19th century independent scholar, Paul de Lagarde, and his too brief reference – “Mitteilungen” – was a mis-spelling of the actual printed title, “Mittheilungen”, which effectively concealed the source. The curse of poor referencing had struck again. But once I had de Lagarde, then I learned that this text belonged to a group of texts, all forged, created in Ireland around 600 AD.
The Irish computistical forgeries.
To understand what we are dealing with here, we have to spend a bit of time on these texts as a group, and the circumstances that created them.
In early Dark Ages Ireland there was great interest in computus, the study of the calculations of Easter. But in the same period, a new method for calculating the date was being propagated from Rome, based on the methodology of Dionysius Exiguus. This caused disputes, which were resolved in the end at the Synod of Whitby, in 689. There the Roman method prevailed.
In order to create a dossier to support the existing local Irish traditions, around 600 AD somebody composed a number of short works, attributed to early fathers of the church. The texts are known as the “Irish forgeries” – although Irish scholars such as Daniel McCarthy and Dáibhí Ó Cróinín, who have done a great deal of excellent work in this area,[2] tend to resist the term “forgery”.[3] The works include those known as pseudo-Anatolius, pseudo-Athanasius, the letter of pseudo-Cyril, and one referred to as pseudo-Theophilus, our own text.
I can’t go into these computistical texts, not least because I don’t understand computus. But I notice that another of the text, pseudo-Anatolius, also refers to practices in Gaul,[4] and also was built around a short quotation from Jerome (using Eusebius) from the genuine but obscure Anatolius, which the forger modified for his cause.
There is no reason why real ancient authors in the civilised Greek eastern Mediterranean would appeal to the customs of little backward old Gaul. But there is every reason why a forger in Ireland, Christian only for a short time, and outside the Roman empire, would see Gaul as the nearest point of the civilised world. The presence of this in both texts seems suspicious.
It is only fair to add that there was recently a valiant attempt by Daniel P. McCarthy to assert that the Liber Anatoli de ratione paschalis is genuine, and that it is Eusebius’ quotation that is corrupt. As a layman I cannot really evaluate this, but it seems improbable, because this text appears to link closely to other texts of precisely the same sort.[5]
Just to digress a moment, it is a common situation with falsifications, that the texts rely on not being compared with other works of the same kind. Individually they can deceive. Once seen as a group, they are nothing. Thus Edgar Goodspeed did rightly to collect and study together the “modern apocrypha” in his book of the same name. Individually these modern fake gospels seemed impressive. Once they were lined up in a row, it became obvious that each was an example of a genre, with a common set of methods and characteristics. They had a certain smell about them, a certain common way of doing things, once you’d seen a few. Another example is modern books about “the real Jesus”. Back in the 90s I remember searching a CDROM of reviews in the Times for books about Jesus. I read a number. After a while, it became clear that the books reviewed were really all the same. The claims made in the books varied wildly, but each and every one used the same tactics to advance their cause and dodge investigation.
The editor of the Annals of Ulster vol. 4, had occasion to discuss the Irish computistical forgeries, which he did with verve. From him I learn that these little texts were known to, and used by the Venerable Bede, in his De ratione temporum (On the Reckoning of Time) in 725 AD. Indeed when we look at the manuscripts, we find that these forgeries often accompany works of Bede or Isidore. Bede uses pseudo-Theophilus in chapter 47. The pseudo-Anatolius text caused some real trouble ( p.cxv f.):
For textual distortion, resourceful invention and vituperative scorn, the spurious Anatolius stood peerless in the field of fabrication. Nor was his triumph confined to his own time. Columbanus quoted his dicta as binding on a Pope; the defenders of rival Paschal methods appealed to him in support of their respective contentions ; Bede(5) vainly taxed his skill to reconcile the contradictions of the “holy man”….
5. Bede.—De temp. rat. vi., xiv., XXX., XXXV., xlii. ; Ep.ad Wic. PL. 90. 599sq.
I won’t go further into the other texts, but that editor notes:
As the Acts of the Caesarean Council, convened at the instance of Victor by Theophilus, in the matter of the Quartadecimans, are lost, the fabricator may have known that his work was not likely to be detected by collation with the original. Be that as it may, he fatally betrayed himself in one particular: March 25 was the Roman, not the Eastern, equinoctial date.
What does Pseudo-Theophilus say?
The pseudo-Theophilus text is extant, we are told, in four different versions, and at least 36 manuscripts. I’ll look at these in a moment. They do not all include the words in which we are interested. In fact these words come from recension A, the long version
Here is the start of the A-text, as reprinted by wild-boy independent scholar Paul de Lagarde who printed both the A-text and the B-text on facing pages:[6]
Cum omnes apostoli ex hoc mundo transissent, per universum orbem diversa erant ieiunia. nam omnes Galli unum diem anniversarium VIII. Kal. April. Pascha celebrabant dicentes: Quid nobis est ad lunae computum cum Iudaeis facere Pascha? sed sicut domini natalem, quocunque die venerit, VIII. Kal. Ianuarii, ita et VIII. Kal. Aprilis, quando resurrectio traditur Christi, debemus Pascha tenere, orientales vero, sicut historia Eusebii Caesariensis narrat, quocunque die mense Martio quartadecima luna evenisset, Pascha celebrabant. In Italia autem alii plenos quadraginta dies ieiunabant, alii triginta: alii dicebant, septem diebus, in quibus mundus concluditur, sibi sufficere ieiunare: alii, quia dominus quadraginta diebus ieiunasset, illi horas quadraginta deberent, cum haec ergo talis diversa esset observatio, maeror erat sacerdotum, quod ubi erat una fides, dissonarent ieiunia. Tunc papa Victor Romanae urbis episcopus direxit, ut daret auctoritatem ad Theophilum Caesariensem Palaestinae provinciae episcopum, quia tunc non Hierosolyma metropolis videbatur, ut inde paschalis ordinatio proveniret ubi Christus fuisset in corpore versatus.
English translation of this by Roland H. Bainton from 1923, who also translated the start of the B-text:[7]
When all the apostles had gone from this life, fasts were differently observed throughout the world, for all the Gauls kept the Pascha on one day, March 25th, saying: “Why should we keep the Pascha with the Jews according to the moon? But as the birth of the Lord on whatever day it falls is kept on December 25th, so we ought to keep the Pascha on March 25th, when Christ is said to have risen.” The Orientals indeed, as the history of Eusebius relates, keep the Pascha on the fourteenth day of the moon on whatever day of March it might fall. But some in Italy fasted full forty days, some thirty; others said that seven days in which the world was made would do; others because the Lord fasted forty days kept forty hours. Since there was such variety of observance, the clergy were astonished that where there was a unity of faith there should be such diversity of practice in fasting. So Papa Victor, bishop of Rome, ordered that authority should be given to Theophilus of Caesarea, bishop of the province of Palestine, because Jerusalem was not then the metropolis, that the paschal rule might come from that region in which Christ lived.
The text continues, as the Acts of the Council of Caesarea, around 190 AD. Indeed some of the literature refers to the text as such.
This, clearly, is where the Centuriators got their text, even though they did not say so.
Mind you, they were clearly hot stuff. At the time of the Centuries, the A-text was unpublished. One of the Centuriators must have been aware of a manuscript of the A-text, probably in Switzerland, and used that. It is hard not to be impressed by this.
The other common version, the B-text, does not contain this remark about the nativity.
The versions of the text and where they may be found
It’s now time to talk about the various versions of the text. In our internet-enabled age, much may be found online.
The classic study is that of B. Kursch, Studien zur christlich-mittelalterlichen Chronologie: der 84jährige Ostercyclus und seine Quellen, Leipzig (1880), p.303 f. (Online here) In his time three versions of the text were known. I will summarise what he says, and add a few bits of my own. Here are the recensions that he gives.
A (the long version). This was first printed by Baluzius, Nova Collectio Conciliorum (1683), in columns 13-16 (online here). The text begins with these words (the “incipit”): “Cum omnes apostoli ex hoc mundo transissent…”. Baluzius based his text on 1) a manuscript from St Gall. Krusch thought this was St Gall 251, a 9th century MS., but that is in fact a B-text, as may be seen below. 2) a “codex Colbertinus”, which must be in the French National Library, if we could identify it. He also knew of a third manuscript, from England, through a scholarly contact. The same recension of the text also appears in Ms. Bern 645, from the end of the 7th century, on folios 72-74, where it is headed “incipit tractatus ordinis”. Sadly this is not online.
Although most of our versions are transmitted with the works of Bede, another witness to the A-text can be found in volume 3 of the 1798 Arevallo edition of the works of Isidore of Seville. This appears in his manuscript, after book 6, chapter 18, title 10, on p.272, where he gives a note about the “Acta concilii Caesariensis” interpolated at this point. Arevallo prints the interpolation – a text of ps.Theophilis – on p.515 here. In his edition it is appendix 8, “Ad lib. 6. cap. 17 Synodus Caesariensis de Paschate”. He is using manuscripts from Rome; a “codex Albanius 4” (not sure what that is), Ms. Ottobonianus lat. 221 (sadly not online), and an unspecified “Caesenatum recentiorem”. He also has compared it to the text printed by Muratori, the C-text, but this is clearly not the Muratori text. And here it has the first sentence, missing from the Baluzius edition but found in the B-text. I did look at at couple of online Isidore manuscripts (St Gall 237, f.98, and Karlsruhe Aug. pap. 103, f.122v), but these did not contain the interpolation.
B (the short version). This was first printed by Johannes Bronkhorst, who called himself Noviomagus, as you would if you had a name like that. The title is Beda Venerabilis: Opuscula complura de temporum ratione diligenter castigata, Cologne (1537) (online here). Our text is on folio xcix, here, with the title “De ordinatione feriarum paschalium per Theophilum episcopum Caesariensem ac reliquorum episopum synodum”. The opening words are: “Post resurrectionem uel/ac ascensionem domini saluatoris…”. The editor worked from two Cologne manuscripts, 103 (9th c. – online here, ff.190v) and 102 (11th c.). The first has no title in the manuscript, and it looks as if the title was invented by Mr Bronkhorst-Noviomagus. This being the case, there seems no reason not to use it for the text generally.
The B-text was reprinted by Bucherius, De doctrina temporum, Antwerp (1633) on p.469, online here. On the previous page he lists the work as “Philippi cuiusdam de concilio Caesariensi, anno Christi vulgari 296 habito”. He heads the text “Epistola Philippi de pascha”, and says that in the MSS it was called the “Epistola Philippi”, but he doesn’t know who that might be.
Krusch suggests that this “Philippus” must be a mistake for “Theophilus”. I would like to suggest that perhaps “Theophili” became abbreviated to “Phili” by a scribal error, and was then “corrected” to this otherwise unknown and irrelevant “Philippi” by another copyist.
Nothing further is known of the manuscript of Bucherius. But it is interesting that a Google search reveals another B-text manuscript, Ms. Geneva 50 (ca. 825 AD), fol. 132r (online here; catalogue here) which has this title “Epistola Philippi de pascha”, and even has a modern marginal note to the page number of the Bucherius edition!
Ms. Geneva 50, f.132r. Epistola Philippi de pascha
Krusch reports on another manuscript of the B-text, Vaticanus Reginensis lat. 586 (online here), second half of the 10th century. Folio 1 begins with “Incipit epistola thophili epi | Post resurrection & ascensionem dni salvatoris”. The text ends with “vobis iustum est celebrare”.
A google search reveals that St Gall 251 page 14 here contains the B-text:
St Gall 251, page 14: epistola philippi de pascha
Further google searches reveal B-text copies at:
Vaticanus lat. 3123 (13th c., online here) on fol. 32v also has an (untitled) copy of the B-text.
British Library Cotton Caligula A XV (1073 AD) on fol. 80v, here.
Paris, BNF lat. 16361 (12th c.), page 240 here. The title is written in the margin in a modern hand – there is a division but no title in the main text.
A catalogue online here tells me that the St Gall 459 manuscript also contains a copy of the B-text, with the usual incipit, on pages 112-4 and 127-142 (?).
These catalogues also reference a “Clavis Patristica Pseudepigraphorum Medii Aevi” – “CPPM III A vol. A n. 656, 722, 832”, but this is something to which I have no access.
There are doubtless many more manuscripts of the B-text.
C (interpolated version). This is a copy of the A-text, into which phrases from the B-text have been interpolated. Krusch lists all three texts in parallel on p.306, which demonstrates this nicely. It was printed by Muratori, Anecdota Latina 3 (online here), p.189-191, based on Ms. Ambrosianus H. 150 inf, fol.64-66. This is a 9th century manuscript from Bobbio – an Irish foundation – containing computistical texts. Sadly it is not online.
Kursch, Studien, p.325. Comparing the A-text, B-text and C-text.
D – A fourth version, which I venture to call “D”, was discovered by Dom André Wilmart.[8] Sadly I have no access to this – why is Studi e Testi not online? – so I can say nothing about it.
Nor is this all. A google search reveals yet another very short version of the text, in Vatican Palatinus lat. 277, from Lorsch (8th c.). The text begins on f.90v (online here), under the title “Item Computus”. Extensive details are here. The text differs again from the standard A-text, beginning “Cum omnes apostoli de hac luce migrassent, error erat in populo: alii ieiunabant XX diebus, alii uero VII, alii XL horas … “. It seems to derive from the A-text, but chunks have been omitted, thereby creating a bishop “Eusebius of Jerusalem”.
Ms. Vatican Palatinus lat. 277, f.90v.
Critical edition
There is supposedly a critical edition of the text, based on the A-text, in Kursch’s Studien. But Kursch produced no stemma, and I rather doubt that he had access to more than a handful of manuscripts and early editions. He does not describe the manuscript tradition. He does not mention the Isidore tradition. His text looks very much to me like a conflation of the Baluzius edition and a B-text.
Clearly it is time that a proper edition needs to be made, using a wider range of manuscripts. I have read in a 2017 article that Leofranc Holford-Strevens is preparing one.[9] Let us hope that it is so.
Conclusion
In conclusion, we have travelled from a supposed quote from the second century into the scholarship of the 17th century and the science of the 7th. I think it was a worthwhile journey, don’t you?
Merry Christmas, everyone.
Update (8 May 2023): Kurt Simmons has made a text and translation of the letter of Theophilus, which is very welcome. Thank you! It’s here. He has prefaced it with an essay giving his own thoughts on this subject.
[1]A modern transcription is online here. Blayney refers to a work in two volumes by “Perkins”, but I don’t know what this was.↩
[2]D. Ó Cróinín, “Archbishop James Ussher (1581–1656) and the history of the Easter controversy”, in: Late Antique Calendrical Thought And Its Reception In The Early Middle Ages (2017), p.318 f. Online here.↩
[3]See also O.M.Cullen, A question of time or a question of theology: A study of the Easter controversy in the Insular Church, PhD: Maynooth (2007), online here, p.135, n.75: “… see James Kenney, The Sources for the Early History and Bartholomew MacCarthy, Annals of Ulster, Vol. IV, for a discussion of the Acts of the Council of Caesarea, both these writers claim that the texts are deliberate Irish falsifications. It seems likely today that these texts were never intended to be deliberate falsifications. For the purpose of this work, it is the theological ideas that they contain that are of interest. Bede obviously thought of these documents as genuine.” The Annals of Ulster vol 4, p.cxv, may be found online here and provides an excellent discussion of these curious texts.↩
[4]Daniel P. McCarthy, “The council of Nicaea…”, p.188.↩
[5]Daniel P.McCarthy, “The council of Nicaea and the Celebration of the Christian Pasch” in: Young R. Kim, The Cambridge Companion to the Council of Nicaea (2021), p.177-201.Google books preview here.↩
[7]Roland H. Bainton, “Basilidian Chronology and New Testament Interpretation”, Journal of Biblical Literature Vol. 42, No. 1/2 (1923), pp. 81-134. See p.112. JSTOR.↩
[8]André Wilmart: Un nouveau texte du faux concile de Césarée sur le comput pascal, in: Analecta Reginensia. Extraits des manuscrits latins de la reine Christine conservés au Vatican (Studi e testi 59), (1933), p. 19-27.↩
[9]Dáibhí Ó Cróinín, “Archbishop James Ussher (1581–1656) and the history of the Easter controversy”, in: Late Antique Calendrical Thought And Its Reception In The Early Middle Ages (2017), p.318, n.45.↩
