I'm talking about Chapter XXII of vol VIII, The Close of the Middle Ages, of the Cambridge Medieval History, 1st ed, 1934, pp 660-687, and also the chapter's bibliography, pp 970-981.
Almost everyone, almost all of the time whenever they write or speak, is more concerned with pursuing an agenda than in searching for and communicating the objective truth about something.
Some innocent people will be horrified by that assertion, and wonder how I became so cynical that I could believe, incorrectly, that almost everyone behaves that way all the time. And some cynical people will smile, ask me how old I am and how long it took me to arrive at such a basic fact of human life, except that it's not quite a fact, because I inaccurately said "almost."
To those innocent people I can only apologize for horrifying them. (They'll say, "I don't behave that way!" and I know that they don't believe that they do.) To those cynical people I present, as Exhibit A, this marvelous chapter in the CMH by the late Prof Thorndike.
Christians, with conviction or without, innocently or cynically, generally twist Medieval history into a more pleasing form, and atheists generally do the opposite, and New Atheists are particularly bad offenders in this regard, tending to be of the opinion that it's not necessary for them to actually study Medieval history (or any other field of history) before distorting it to fit their official position that religion (which to them is pretty much synonymous with Christianity) poisons everything and that Christians are stupid and destructive and atheists are bright and wonderful beacons of true morality.
But even actual historians come with agendas other than the reporting of history. In the field of Medieval history, I'm not giving away a secret here, the tendency toward Catholic apologetics is particularly widespread. (In some cases the tendency is very strong. For example, in Chapter II, "John Hus," of this same vol VIII of the CMH, Professor Kamil Krofta himself seems like a Medieval monk, although a Hussite one rather than a Catholic.) The reader of works about Medieval history generally comes to expect that he or she will have to adjust for apologetic bias most of the time, insofar as he or she is not also an apologist who reads such things primarily in order to have his or her bias confirmed. The tendency for atheist Medieval historians to overcompensate for the prevailing apologetic atmosphere of their field has of course been exaggerated by the apologists ever since their earliest denunciations of Gibbon, and vice versa, back and forth and on and on. It's all very imperfect and human, and very much the same as in every other field of human endeavor.
But every now and then there is someone whose agenda is actually to write and speak as accurately as possible, and let whose ox be gored which will. Such as Thordike's chapter here: sentence after sentence crammed with actual facts, including both the sorts of details unflattering to the political and intellectual leaders of Medieval Europe which are routinely left out by the apologists and the flattering ones neglected by the atheists. I mean it as a high compliment when I say that it's impossible to guess from this chapter what Thorndike's own religious beliefs or symapthies might have been. Almost always in writing about Medieval, Catholic Europe, some of the author's beliefs or sympathies lay themselves quite bare. Here, whatever Thorndike's beliefs and sympathies may have been, they haven't interfered with his relating the facts: these leading figures in the theology and philosophy and science of the Middle Ages in Catholic Europe said and did and wrote this and this and this about magic, witchcraft, astrology and alchemy, and the authorities allowed or praised expressions of these points of view and punished those. The bibliography for this 28-page chapter is huge: 12 pages, in type much smaller than the chapter's type. There might actually be more words in the bibliography than in the chapter itself. Yet another reason to believe than Thorndike is relating what went on rather than embellishing or spinning it. But of course, if you don't trust Thorndike -- he's given you quite a lot of sources which you can check.
My readers may be beginning to grow impatient with me, saying that I haven't actually described this supposedly wonderful Chapter XXII, nor given any examples of its supposedly wonderful content. And they're right, I haven't, or almost haven't. But that's okay, because when I feel this way about a piece of writing, all that I have to say about it boils down to 2 words: read this!
Showing posts with label astrology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label astrology. Show all posts
Saturday, March 12, 2016
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Manilius, G P Goold, Rheinisches Museum, Perhaps More Life Left In Latin Than I'd Thought?
I had not been aware of Manilius and his work,
until, browsing in my favorite 2nd-hand bookstore, I came across the Loeb edition and translation by G P Goold. Glad I stumbled across this. I like Manilius. I was very surprised by the assertion on the Loeb dust jacket that Manilius' Astronomica is the oldest work on astrology which we possess, but the more I research that question, the more it appears to be true. Astrology goes back much further than Manilius, who wrote around the time of the change from BC to AD (and yet, astonishingly, makes no mention whatsoever of Jesus!), having been practiced in Mesopotamia long before there was a Rome, and astrology is mentioned in many works written long before Manilius, and also it appears that some entire works were devoted to it before him, but that this is the oldest volume whose text we now possess devoted entirely to astrology. (It also appears, unfortunately, that most of the Amazon reviews of Goold's edition/translation have been written, not by philologists, but by people who actually believe in, or even practice, astrology, but whaddygonnado.)
Just in case there was any doubt whatsoever in anyone's mind: I do not believe in astrology. But that will stop me from enjoying a 2000-year-old author who did believe in it, fervently, even, as little as my not believing in the literal existence of Zeus will stop me from enjoying Homer.
Manilius' feud with Lucretius doesn't bother me either, even though I'd naturally almost always side with Lucretius. It doesn't bother me because Manilius can write.
And so can G P Goold, who edited and translated Manilius for the Loeb series. I like Goold just as I like Manilius, and just as I was surprised that I didn't know who Manilius was, so too I was surprised that I hadn't heard of Goold. Goold mentions that the latest English translation of Manilius before his (1977) appeared in the 17th century. Which explains to some extent why I hadn't heard of either of them.
So, this one little Loeb volume acquainted me with Manilius, and with Goold, and an article referred to on page cxx of Goold's introduction was doubly an eye-opener, because it appeared to have been published in 1956 in the Rheinischem Museum, and, possibly, in Latin. Its title is in Latin. As time goes on, annoyingly, articles which have Latin titles in academic journals seem more and more often to be written in vernaculars, why the misleading Latin titles, academics? does it make you feel smart? it doesn't make you look smart -- but in this case I was hopeful. (Goold actually IS smart.)
You see, I'd often heard of the Rheinischen Museum (it's a journal about ancient Greek and Latin), but it had always been in connection with the 19th century and guys like Boeckh and Ritschl (who were among its editors) and Nietzsche (who published a couple of pieces in it -- yes, in Latin -- when he was Ritschl's protogee at the University of Bonn, before he switched from philology to philosophy and poetry). (PS, 28. January 2015: CORRECTION: Some of Nietzsche's contributions to the Rheinischen Museum were in Latin and some were in German) I'd had no idea that it was still in operation as late as 1956. And naturally if Goold had published something in a philological journal in Latin as late as 1956 then he was my boy all the more so, because journal articles in Latin had by 1956 become just a wee bit exotic, and, as regular readers of The Wrong Monkey know, I am for the preservation of Latin as a living language. (No, it ain't quite dead yet, that's bullshit. It's been feeling poorly the past century or so, and as we speak it might be getting sicker rather than recuperating, but it ain't dead yet.)
So I looked around, and not only was the Rheinische Museum still being published in 1956, it's still being published now, thank you, God, and every single bit of every issue of it from 1827 until 3 years ago can be seen here, absolutely free. (They wait for 3 years before putting new issues online.)
And not only is Goold's article in the Rheinischen Museum in Latin, but I've also found articles in Latin published in the journal as recently as 1993. Most of the articles in the Museum by the 1950's were in vernaculars, German or English or Italian or French, but by the 1950's most of the (annual) issues still had at least 1 or 2 pieces in Latin. Not as many as in the 1820's admittedly, and by the 1990's Latin pieces had become rarer still than in the 1950's, but still.
And the question is not Why do they still write things in Latin now and then but Why don't they do it oftener. IT'S A JOURNAL ABOUT ANCIENT LATIN AND GREEK. How on Earth does it make more sense to assume that its readers are fluent in German, English, Italian and French, than to suggest that its authors write in Latin? Some -- no, many journals, and not just journals about ancient literature, but also journals about mathematics and biology and other subjects still, were by the late 19th century still written mostly or often entirely in Latin, and the question is not Gee, why, did they do that, it's so quaint, but Why did they stop doing that, it's so stupid. An international language not favoring any one contemporary nation, truly, impartially international, and people just decided to stop using it, why? Stupid.
Well, it's not quite dead yet. I haven't checked all of the issues of the Rheinischen Museum yet, it may be that articles in Latin continue to have an occasional home there. It may be that other journals of which I'm not aware still accept Latin. Thank Christ, Oxford and Teubner and other publishers still put out new volumes with prefaces in Latin, at least. It's not the same as volumes of new original writing entirely in Latin which as late as 1900 still weren't so unusual even if they had nothing to do with the Catholic Church, which of course still published boatloads of Latin right up until 1962 -- but it's something.
until, browsing in my favorite 2nd-hand bookstore, I came across the Loeb edition and translation by G P Goold. Glad I stumbled across this. I like Manilius. I was very surprised by the assertion on the Loeb dust jacket that Manilius' Astronomica is the oldest work on astrology which we possess, but the more I research that question, the more it appears to be true. Astrology goes back much further than Manilius, who wrote around the time of the change from BC to AD (and yet, astonishingly, makes no mention whatsoever of Jesus!), having been practiced in Mesopotamia long before there was a Rome, and astrology is mentioned in many works written long before Manilius, and also it appears that some entire works were devoted to it before him, but that this is the oldest volume whose text we now possess devoted entirely to astrology. (It also appears, unfortunately, that most of the Amazon reviews of Goold's edition/translation have been written, not by philologists, but by people who actually believe in, or even practice, astrology, but whaddygonnado.)
Just in case there was any doubt whatsoever in anyone's mind: I do not believe in astrology. But that will stop me from enjoying a 2000-year-old author who did believe in it, fervently, even, as little as my not believing in the literal existence of Zeus will stop me from enjoying Homer.
Manilius' feud with Lucretius doesn't bother me either, even though I'd naturally almost always side with Lucretius. It doesn't bother me because Manilius can write.
And so can G P Goold, who edited and translated Manilius for the Loeb series. I like Goold just as I like Manilius, and just as I was surprised that I didn't know who Manilius was, so too I was surprised that I hadn't heard of Goold. Goold mentions that the latest English translation of Manilius before his (1977) appeared in the 17th century. Which explains to some extent why I hadn't heard of either of them.
So, this one little Loeb volume acquainted me with Manilius, and with Goold, and an article referred to on page cxx of Goold's introduction was doubly an eye-opener, because it appeared to have been published in 1956 in the Rheinischem Museum, and, possibly, in Latin. Its title is in Latin. As time goes on, annoyingly, articles which have Latin titles in academic journals seem more and more often to be written in vernaculars, why the misleading Latin titles, academics? does it make you feel smart? it doesn't make you look smart -- but in this case I was hopeful. (Goold actually IS smart.)
You see, I'd often heard of the Rheinischen Museum (it's a journal about ancient Greek and Latin), but it had always been in connection with the 19th century and guys like Boeckh and Ritschl (who were among its editors) and Nietzsche (who published a couple of pieces in it -- yes, in Latin -- when he was Ritschl's protogee at the University of Bonn, before he switched from philology to philosophy and poetry). (PS, 28. January 2015: CORRECTION: Some of Nietzsche's contributions to the Rheinischen Museum were in Latin and some were in German) I'd had no idea that it was still in operation as late as 1956. And naturally if Goold had published something in a philological journal in Latin as late as 1956 then he was my boy all the more so, because journal articles in Latin had by 1956 become just a wee bit exotic, and, as regular readers of The Wrong Monkey know, I am for the preservation of Latin as a living language. (No, it ain't quite dead yet, that's bullshit. It's been feeling poorly the past century or so, and as we speak it might be getting sicker rather than recuperating, but it ain't dead yet.)
So I looked around, and not only was the Rheinische Museum still being published in 1956, it's still being published now, thank you, God, and every single bit of every issue of it from 1827 until 3 years ago can be seen here, absolutely free. (They wait for 3 years before putting new issues online.)
And not only is Goold's article in the Rheinischen Museum in Latin, but I've also found articles in Latin published in the journal as recently as 1993. Most of the articles in the Museum by the 1950's were in vernaculars, German or English or Italian or French, but by the 1950's most of the (annual) issues still had at least 1 or 2 pieces in Latin. Not as many as in the 1820's admittedly, and by the 1990's Latin pieces had become rarer still than in the 1950's, but still.
And the question is not Why do they still write things in Latin now and then but Why don't they do it oftener. IT'S A JOURNAL ABOUT ANCIENT LATIN AND GREEK. How on Earth does it make more sense to assume that its readers are fluent in German, English, Italian and French, than to suggest that its authors write in Latin? Some -- no, many journals, and not just journals about ancient literature, but also journals about mathematics and biology and other subjects still, were by the late 19th century still written mostly or often entirely in Latin, and the question is not Gee, why, did they do that, it's so quaint, but Why did they stop doing that, it's so stupid. An international language not favoring any one contemporary nation, truly, impartially international, and people just decided to stop using it, why? Stupid.
Well, it's not quite dead yet. I haven't checked all of the issues of the Rheinischen Museum yet, it may be that articles in Latin continue to have an occasional home there. It may be that other journals of which I'm not aware still accept Latin. Thank Christ, Oxford and Teubner and other publishers still put out new volumes with prefaces in Latin, at least. It's not the same as volumes of new original writing entirely in Latin which as late as 1900 still weren't so unusual even if they had nothing to do with the Catholic Church, which of course still published boatloads of Latin right up until 1962 -- but it's something.
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