Thought, Culture, and Historiography in Christian Egypt, 284-641 AD [1 ed.] 1527559394, 9781527559394

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Thought, Culture, and Historiography in Christian Egypt, 284-641 AD

Thought, Culture, and Historiography in Christian Egypt, 284-641 AD Edited by

Tarek M. Muhammad and Cornelia Römer

Thought, Culture, and Historiography in Christian Egypt, 284-641 AD Edited by Tarek M. Muhammad and Cornelia Römer This book first published 2020 Cambridge Scholars Publishing Lady Stephenson Library, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2PA, UK British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Copyright © 2020 by Tarek M. Muhammad, Cornelia Römer and contributors All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN (10): 1-5275-5939-4 ISBN (13): 978-1-5275-5939-4



TABLE OF CONTENTS Preface ....................................................................................................... vii I. History The Nile in the Byzantine Writings of 4th-7th Centuries AD ....................... 3 M. Z. Abdullah Egyptian Monasticism in Southern France: Monastic Diversity in the Eyes of Cassian ................................................ 23 P. Argárate Monastic Egypt by the End of the Fourth Century: An Introduction to the Historia Lausiaca .................................................. 53 P. Argárate Command Route in Egypt According to Edictum ȋǿǿǿ of Justinian and ‘Umar Ibn Al-Kha৬৬Ɨb’s Correspondence (527-644 AD ..................... 65 E. D. Badawy Some Remarks on the Arab Conquest of Egypt from ca. 639-640 AD to ca. 645-646 AD: The Military Aspect......................... 75 V. Christides Ad Aegypti Extrema Contendi: Egyptian Monasticism in Sulpicius Severus’ Dialogues ................................................................ 91 M. Sághy The Rules of the Coptic Wills in Light of the Book "Al-Magmou Al-ৡafawy" le Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl............................................... 111 M. F. Muhammed Egyptian Martyrdom in the Historia Ecclesiastica of Eusebius of Caesarea: A Socio-Historical Approach to the Christian Persecution Especially in Egypt During the Rule of Diocletian and his Successor Galerius ................................................................................................... 129 M. L. Ureutz



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Table of Contents

II. Documents Epistolary Christianity: A Survey of the Earliest Christian Letters from Egypt ............................................................................................... 143 L. H. Blumell Patriarch and Bishops in Greek Papyri with Prayers ............................... 165 M. Stroppa Three Inscriptions from Ansina Witnesses of Two Worlds Combined in Late Antique Egypt.................. 177 C. E. Römer A Fragment of a Deed of Surety .............................................................. 193 N. A. Salem Account of Arrears of Payments in Kind from the Byzantine Period...... 199 R. H. El-Mofatch New Texts from the Oxyrhynchus Racing Archive................................. 211 S. E. Aish and E. A. Abd-Elhady Four Pseudo-Athanasius Texts: Edition, Translation, and Commentary ..................................................................................... 227 I. Saweros Bibliography ............................................................................................ 237





PREFACE

In 2013, when I met Cornelia Römer for the first time in Cairo, we talked about a lot of various issues, which were related to the History of Coptic Egypt, in particular from the first to the ninth century. We were looking forward to holding a regular conference about the History of Coptic Egypt every two years or even more often. Cornelia encouraged me strongly. Later, we had more talks about the procedures of the First International Conference on the History of Christian Egypt, 284-641 AD. At the same time, the president of Ain Shams University welcomed the idea and encouraged us to organize the conference. When I met His Holiness Pope Tawadros II, Pope of the Orthodox church of Egypt, asking him to support the conference, he said to me: “I'm so happy that one of the official institutions in Egypt, i.e. Ain Shams University, is interested in Coptic history.” For two reasons, we determined the period of 284 to 641 AD. While 284 AD was the year of the greatest martyrdom in Egypt and the beginning of the Coptic calendar, 641 AD was the beginning of the Arab conquest of Egypt, which changed gradually the overall Coptic face of Egypt into an Arabo-Coptic face, i.e. the Islamic-Christian Egypt we have today. In April 2014, the First International Conference on Christian Egypt took place at Ain Shams University. In May 2015, the second one followed, and finally in May 2017, the third one was held. Here, we present some of the best papers, whether historical or documentary, which derive from the first and the second conferences about Early Christian Egypt held at Ain Shams University in 2014 and 2015. We would like to thank His Holiness Pope Tawadros II, Pope of the Orthodox Church of Egypt, for his unremitting encouragement. Thanks are also due to Dr. L. Blumell for his generous support, proofreading, and useful remarks. We also owe many thanks to Prof. Noha A. Salem, Director of the Center for Papyrological Studies and Inscriptions, for her faithful support. Our colleagues V. Christides, P. Argárate, Eleni Pachoumi, I. A. GendƯ, A. RamadƗn, and W. A. Farag we thank for their enthusiastic contributions during these conferences.



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Preface

We also would like to thank the editorial staff of Cambridge Scholars Publishing, particularly Victoria Carruthers, Sean Howley, Hannah Fletcher, Adam Rummens, Matthew Scott, Sophie Edminson, and Anthony Wright for their help and professionalism.



I. HISTORY

THE NILE IN THE BYZANTINE WRITINGS OF 4TH-7TH CENTURIES AD M. Z. ABDULLAH FAYOUM UNIVERSITY, EGYPT

The Nile attracted the interest of writers throughout antiquity, such as Herodotus, Strabo, Pliny the Elder, and Dio Cassius. In the Byzantine era, the Nile was mentioned in numerous literary and historical writings during the period between the fourth and seventh centuries, such as Aelius Spartianus, Eusebius of Caesarea, Ammianus Marcellinus, Claudius Claudianus, Nonnos of Panopolis, Dioscorus of Aphrodito and John Malalas. Some Byzantine writings have been translated from ancient Greek and Roman sources, especially information about the sources of the Nile, mouths, floods, plants, animals, tribes and peoples who lived close to it. The Byzantine writings may have been greatly influenced by Greek and Roman writings on the Nile as a result of the cultural decline in the Early Byzantine age due to the political and religious changes that had a great influence on that cultural aspect. This created a lack of innovation in dealing with some historical and geographical issues and prompted writers to imitate previous writings. However, there are some differences in the Byzantine writings about the concept of the name of the Nile because of the influence of Christian writings during the Byzantine age, in addition to the existence of different political conditions in Egypt and the kingdoms surrounding it across the Red Sea. This led some Byzantine writers such as Procopius of Caesarea and John Malalas to speak about the Byzantine embassies to Kingdoms on the Nile from the reign of Diocletian until the Islamic conquest of Egypt (284-642 AD).

Introduction The Nile was the cynosure of Greek and Roman writers from the ancient times; such as Herodotus (ca. 460 BC), who created a relationship between



I‫ތ‬d like to thank Dr. Lincoln Blumell for his useful remarks and careful proofreading.

4

The Nile in the Byzantine Writings of 4th-7th Centuries AD

Egypt and the Nile when he praised the Nile and described it as so great, “ਥȩȞIJİȢ ȝİȖȐșİĮ.”1 More interestingly, he admired the effect of the river on the Egyptian soil; hence, he thought that the Egyptian soil was the gift of the river, not of the Egyptians, because the Nile carried down the silt from Ethiopia to Egypt.2 This idea is repeated in the fourth century by Philostratus the Younger.3 In contrast, Strabo claimed that Herodotus was wrong about the Nile and Egypt, because Strabo thought that Egypt was a gift of both the Nile and Egyptians. He underscored the fact that whoever visited Egypt could not know anything about Egypt before understanding the nature of the Nile.4 This nature was mentioned by many writers who described water of the Nile as so sweet that the Egyptians had no desire to drink wine.5 In the fourth century, Emperor Julian (361-363 AD) said the Egyptians believed that the Nile was not only the saviour and benefactor of the land, but it also warded off the ruin afflicted by the fire of the sun in the summer.6 This paper will compare Greco-Roman and Byzantine writings by studying many themes concerning the name of the Nile, its southern sources and northern mouths, floods, animals, plants, people, the most important cities in its banks, the role of the Nile in diplomacy and war, and finally the economic importance of the Nile in the Byzantine era. We’ll use several methodologies to discuss this topic through description and analysis to answer the following question: Did the portrayal of the Nile in the Byzantine writings parallel or differ from the Greek and Roman sources?

 1Herodotus,

The History, trans. A. D. Godley, in The Loeb Classical Library 117௅120, London and Cambridge 1975, Vol. I, II.10. 2 Herodotus, The History, Vol. I, II.5. 3 “ǹੁȖȣʌIJȓȠȚȢ ȝ੻Ȟ Ȗਕȡ ʌĮȡਕ IJȠૣ ȃİȓȜȠȣ ਲȖો.” Philostratus the Younger, Imagines, trans A. Fairbanks, London - New York 1931, II.14. 4 Strabo, The Geography, trans. H. L. Jones, London - Cambridge 1967, Vol. I, I.2.29. 5 Heliodorus, The Aethiopica, The Athenian Society’s Publications 5 (Athens 1897) II. 28. In the fourth century Aelius Spartianus said: “si quidem tanta illius fluminis dulcitudo, ut accolae vina non quaerant.” Aelius Spartianus, Pescennius Niger, in Historia Augusta, trans. D. Magie, in The Loeb Classical Library 139௅140, 263, London – Cambridge 1991, VII.7–8. 6 Julian, The Works of the emperor Julian, trans. W. C. Wright, in The Loeb Classical Library 13, 29, 157, London - New York 1913, Vol. I, Oration. 3.119B.

M. Z. Abdullah

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The Name of the Nile in the Byzantine Sources The Nile has many names from ancient times; the Egyptians described it as a God ‘ণapi,’ and worshipped it, because it was the bringer of water and fertility.7 In his epic Odyssey, Homer called it ǹੁȖȪʌIJȠȢ ‘Mud land,’8 but Byzantine historians used a Greek word ȃİȓȜȠȢ for the Nile, which appeared in the fourth century in the writings of Aelius Spartianus as Nilum.9 This name appeared for the first time in the Greek poems of Hesiod in the eighth century BC.10 Many Greek and Roman historians followed in the footsteps of Hesiod when they called it ȃİȓȜȠȢ ‘Nile’.11 However, Strabo held the opinion that the name ‘Nile’ should be only applied to the river on the Egyptian side; the part located beyond Meroe (northern Sudan) had three major branches: ǹıIJĮȕȩȡĮȢ (Atbara) flowed on the eastern side of Meroe; ǹıIJȐʌȠȣȢ (White Nile); and finally ǹıIJĮıȩȕĮȢ (Blue Nile).12 During the sixth and seventh centuries, almost all of the Byzantine writings called the Nile ‘ȃİȓȜȠȢ’. In one of Dioscorus of Aphrodito’s letters (566-570 AD), he compared Athanasius (the duke of Thebes) to the Nile because of his fame.13 This is the evidence about the Greek influence on the Byzantine writers. However, we find another trend in the ecclesiastical writings, when the name of Geon was mentioned in

 7

A. Moret, The Nile and Egyptian Civilization, trans. M. R. Dobie, London 1972, p. 28. 8 Homer, The Odyssey, trans. A. T. Murray, in The Loeb Classical Library 104– 105, London – Cambridge 1945, Vol. I, 4. 351. 9 “Antinoum suum, dum per Nilum navigat, perdidit, quem muliebriter flevit.” Aelius Spartianus, Hadrian, in Historia Augusta, trans. D. Magie, in The Loeb Classical Library 139௅140, 263, London – Cambridge 1991, XIV. 5–6. 10 “ȉȘșઃȢ į૱ ȍțİĮȞ૶ ʌȠIJĮȝȠઃȢ IJȑțİ įȚȞȒİȞIJĮȢ, ȃİȓȜȠȞ IJ૱ ਝȜijİȚȠȞ.” Hesiod, Theogony, trans. G. W. Most, in Theogony, Works and Days, Testimonia, in The Loeb Classical Library 57, London - Cambridge 2006, I.337. 11 Herodotus, The History, Vol. 1, II.10–11, 13, 15–16–20, 22, 24–29, 31-35, 72, 90, 93, 97, 99, 108, 111, 113, 116, 124, 127, 138, 149-150, 154–155, 158, 179; Diodorus of Sicily, The History of Diodorus Sicily, trans. C. H. Oldfather, in The Loeb Classical Library, Vol. II, London - Cambridge 1967, II.35.2, 43.4, III.1.1, 3.2, 8.1, 10.1, 34.7, IV.2.3, 27.3; Dio Cassius, Roman History, trans. E. Care, in The Loeb Classical Library, London - New York 1914-1927, Vol. VIII, LXV.8.1, LXIX.11.2. 12 Strabo, The Geography, Vol. VIII, 17.1.2. cf. Ch. Beke, “On the Nile and Its Tributaries,” The Journal of the Royal Geographical Society of London 17 (1847), pp. 2-27. 13 P. Lond. Lit. 100D; L. S. B. MacCoull, Dioscorus of Aphrodito, his Work and his World, Berkeley – Los Angeles – London 1988, pp. 86–7.

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The Nile in the Byzantine Writings of 4th-7th Centuries AD

the Byzantine period. In the geographical dictionary Onomasticon, Eusebius of Caesarea called the Nile Gaion, and Jerome translated Eusebius‫ތ‬s word as Geon.14 This name was identical with the biblical river Gihon in the Old Testament (Gen. 2:13), which flowed from paradise through the Ethiopian Land.15 The latter idea was already stated in Philostorgius’ History,16 and the Chronographia of George Syncellus as Geion or Chrysorroas ‘streaming with gold’.17 Similarly, Cosmas Indicopleustes (the Egyptian traveler) called the Nile Geon.18 Additionally, Palladius, bishop of Helenopolis, and John of Nikiu called the Nile Gihon,19 but Cosmas still used the word ‘Neilos,’20 and John of Nikiu repeated the word ‘river’ to describe the Nile in almost all of his history.21 In papyri, the Nile is simply called ʌȠIJĮȝȠȢ ‘river,’22 not Neilos or Nilum as in the literary sources. However, the name Neilos is used in people’s names, as ȃİȓȜȠȢ ȃİȓȜȠ, ȃİȓȜȠȢ ǻȚįĮ, ȃİȓȜȠȢ ǽȦıȓȝȠȣ, ǹȪȡȒȜȓȠȢ ȃİȓȜȠȢ,23 and ȃİȓȜȠȢ ੑȡȖĮȞȐȡȚȠȢ, ‘the waterworks-engineer’ in Arsinoe district.24

 14

Eusebius of Caesarea, The Onomasticon, Palestine in the Fourth Century, trans. G. S. P. Freeman-Grenville, Jerusalem 2003, pp. 60–1. 15 D. W. Johnson and A. Culter, vs. “Nile, ȃİȓȜȠȢ,” The Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium, ed. A. P. Kazhdan and A. M. Talbot, New York - Oxford 1991, Vol. III, p.1486. 16 Philostorgius, Church History, trans. Ph. R. Amidon, Society of Biblical Literature, Leiden – Boston 2007, 3.10. 17 George Synkellos, The Chronography, A Byzantine Chronicle of Universal History from the Creation, trans. W. Adler and P. Tuffin, London 2002, pp. 47, 53. 18 Cosmas Indicopleustes, The Christian Topography of Cosmas, an Egyptian Monk, ed. and trans. J. W. McCrindle, New York – London 2010, II.133. 19 Palladius bishop of Helenopolis, The Paradise of the Holy Fathers, trans. E. A. W. Budge, The Assyrian and Egyptian Antiquities in the British Museum, London 1907, Vol. I, p. 32; John of Nikiu, The Chronicle, trans. from Zotenberg’s Ethiopic text by R. H. Charles, London 1916, XVI.2, XXXI.4, LI.42, LXVII.7, LXXII.19, XCV.13. 20 Cosmas Indicopleustes, The Christian Topography, II.133. 21 John of Nikiu, The Chronicle, XVIII.2–3, XXXI.4–5, LI.43, LXXXII.20, LXXXIX.32, XCVII.21–23, CIX.8-9, 12, CXI. 8, 11, 15–16, CXII. 3௅4, CXIII. 1– 3, 5, CXIV. 2, 4, CXV. 2, 5, CXVIII. 3, 6௅7. 22 CPR 7.42.6,10 (Arsinoites, AD 401-500). 23 BGU 1.217.r2.9,13, r3.4 (Arsinoites 101CE-300 CE); 2.364.19 (Arsinoites 11 Sept. 553). 24 CPR 14. 41.5 (501௅700 CE).

M. Z. Abdullah

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Sources and Mouths of the Nile The sources of the Nile aroused much controversy among writers, who represented three opinions: first, the sources of the Nile were located in the great lake between the city of Syene (Aswan) and Elephantine, which was called the island of ȉachompso.25 The second opinion was that the sources of the Nile were in Mauritania by Mount Atlas, toward the west and close to the ocean itself (figure. 1). The Greeks called it the pillar of the sky, because no one has ever ascended its summit or seen its peaks, which were always covered with snow.26 During the summer, it sent down a huge amount of water, which flowed through arid deserts for a distance of a twenty-day journey until western Ethiopia, where the Nile made the island of Meroe (Napata) in the lake called Nilides or Nigris, which was supposedly the source of the Nile. As for the third opinion, it said that the Nilepia, and began at the boundaries of Ethio 28,’sourced-heavenlywas ‘27 extended to the Delta (figure 2).29 In the Byzantine period, Eusebius of Caesarea and Cosmas Indicopleustes supported the third opinion, which claimed that the Nile flowed from Ethiopia in the summer, which begins in the Egyptian month Epiphi (July) and continues till Thoth (September), during which time it rains and numerous rivers arise, all of which flow into the Nile.30 However, Ammianus Marcellinus relied on Herodotus’ evidence when he said that the springs of the Nile were not known until his time. He was strongly opposed to the opinion that the Nile sprang from a mountain situated in Mauritania, beside the ocean. Rather, he believed that the river flowed through the regions of Ethiopia and went under various names until it reached the cataracts (steep rocks). However, he didn’t know from

 25

Herodotus, The History, Vol. I, II. 28-29. Herodotus Probably depended on a Hymn to the Nile, which he translated from the Egyptian priests that said the Nile came from the ocean, which is encircling the earth. Cf. R. Cribiore, “A Hymn to the Nile,” ZPE 106 (1995), pp. 97–106. 26 Dio Cassius, Roman History, Vol. IX, LXXVI.13.4. 27 Pliny the Elder, Natural History, trans. H. Rackham, in The Loeb Classical Library, London - Cambridge 1967, Vol. II, V.10.51; “Apud Hesperios Aethiopas fons est Nigris, ut plerique existimavere, Nili caput.” Pliny the Elder, Natural History, Vol. III, VIII. 32.77. 28 Homer, The Odyssey, Vol. I, 4. 477; Strabo, The Geography, Vol. I, I.2.29. 29 Strabo, The Geography, Vol. I, I.2.32. 30 Eusebius of Caesarea, Onomasticon, pp. 60-61; Cosmas Indicopleustes, The Christian Topography, II.133, 140. Cf. L. P. Kirwan, “The Christian Topography and the Kingdom of Axum,” GJ 138/2 (1972), p. 170.

8

The Nile in the Byzantine Writings of 4th-7th Centuries AD

where the water originated.31 Although he knew good information on the sources of the Nile, according to Herodotus, he wrote that the sources of the Nile would not be known to posterity, as they had been. Regarding the water of the river, Athanasius of Alexandria said that the source of the Nile sprang in the highlands of Ethiopia in summer, which caused the flood of the river before it came to Egypt.32 Additionally, many writers described the springs of the Nile, such as the poet Claudius Claudianus, who imagined that he went into the heat of the desert towards the south to search out the hidden sources of the Nile;33 he was heading for Ethiopia and leaving the whole world behind.34 In a similar way, Dioscorus of Aphrodito described the fame of the lineage of St. Colluthus (the patron saint of Antinoe) as extending as far as the sources of the Nile.35 With reference to the source of the White Nile, it was said to be in the mountains farther south. This information was probably gathered from indigenous traders or Byzantine travellers who visited those sites. Olympiodoros of Thebes did not explore as far as the Nile in Lower Nubia when he sojourned in a southern area of Thebes. He spoke about the five Nubian towns: Prima, Phoenico, Chiris, Thapis and Talmis.36 Cosmas Indicopleustes described the Nile’s sources when he said that the Nile flowed from low-lying regions in the south towards the northern regions.37 Many ancient writers conceived of the Nile as a boundary marker between Asia and Libya, and the meridian was drawn approximately along the course of the Nile from Meroe in Ethiopia to Alexandria, a distance of roughly ten thousand stades, or ca. 1980 km.38 Many Byzantine writers said that the Nile flowed through seven mouths, each of which had the

 31

Ammianus Marcellinus, Res Gestae, ed. and trans. J. C. Rolfe, in The Loeb Classical Library, Vol. II, London - Cambridge 1935௅2000, XXII.15.3, 7௅9. 32 Athanasius of Alexandria, Vita S. Antoni or Life of Antony, in Select Works and Letters by Athanasius, ed. and trans. by H. Ellershaw, with notes and commentaries by A. Robertson, in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church 4, Edinburgh-Michigan 1891, p. 32. 33 Claudius Claudianus, Poems, trans. M. Platnauer, in The Loeb Classical Library 134–35, London - Cambridge 1990, Vol. I, De Consulatu Stilichonis, I (XXI) vs. 179௅80. 34 Claudius Claudianus, Poems, Vol. I, in Rufinum Liber Secundus, V. vs. 244௅45. 35 P. Cair. Masp. I 67120 vB; MacCoull, Dioscorus of Aphrodito, pp. 96-7. 36 Olympiodoros of Thebes, Fragmenta, trans. R. C. Blockley, in The Fragmentary Classicising Historians of the Later Roman Empire, Vol. II, Liverpool 1983, fr. 35. 37 Cosmas Indicopleustes, The Christian Topography, II.133. 38 Strabo, The Geography, Vol. I, I.2.22, II.5.7; Diodorus of Sicily, The History, Vol. II, III.3.2௅3.

M. Z. Abdullah

9

appearance of an uninterrupted river and emptied into the sea. Those streams were given the following names: the Heracleotic or Canopic, Sebennytic, Pathmitic, Mendesian, Tanitic, and Pelusiac.39 But the main branches of the lower part of the Nile were formed by the two branches: the Pelusiac to the east and the Canopic ‘Heracleotic’ to the west, with 280 km between the two mouths. This made Lower Egypt an island in the shape of a triangle, which is why it was called by the Greek letter ǻ.40 In the fifth century, the poets Claudius Claudianus and Nonnos of Panopolis approved the opinion that the Nile had seven mouths.41

The Nile Flood As far as the Nile’s deluge is concerned, it was described by many Greek, Roman and Byzantine writers, but they were divided into two groups: the first opinion said that the etesian winds hindered the river from flowing out into the north.42 Pliny the Elder (23 AD) was a proponent of this view, emphasizing that the etesian winds blew in the opposite direction at that time of the year. In the summer, the rains of Ethiopia were due to the same etesian winds, which brought clouds from the rest of the world to Egypt. In the meantime, the Nile began to flow again at the rising of the Dog-star, when the sun entered the sign of the Lion. On the other hand, when the sun entered the sign of Virgo, the Nile began to fall with the same speed as when it rose.43 According to the second opinion, the Nile flowed because the sun was the driving force behind the Nile’s flood, and attracted the water to it, so that the winds drove the water to the south. Afterwards, the water crashed into the mountains at the Nile’s springs, and thus the rains flowed at that point, making the Nile flood in the summer.44 In the fourth century, Ammianus Marcellinus did not believe, as others did, that the Nile’s flood occurred because of the congealed masses of snow in the north which, when melted, formed clouds due to the heat of

 39

Ammianus Marcellinus, Res Gestae, Vol. II, XXII.15.10; John Cassian, Conferences, trans. E. C. S. Gibson, in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church 11, Edinburgh - New York 1893, III.18.1. 40 Pliny the Elder, Natural History, Vol. II, V.9.48. 41 “hinc bibat aestivum septemo gurgite Nilum.” Claudius Claudianus, Poems, Vol. I, In Rufinum Liber Primus, III. vs. 185; “ǺȜȑȝȣȢ ੩ț੝Ȣ ੃țĮȞİȞ ਥȢ ਥʌIJĮʌȩȡȠȣ ıIJȩȝĮ ȃİȓȜȠȣ,” Nonnos of Panopolis, Dionysiaca, trans. W. H. D. Rouse, in The Loeb Classical Library, London - Cambridge 1940, Vol. II, 17.394; 26.245. 42 Herodotus, The History, Vol. I, II.20. 43 Pliny the Elder, Natural History, Vol. II, V.10.55௅56. 44 Herodotus, The History, Vol. I, II. 24; Heliodorus, The Aethiopica, II.28.

10

The Nile in the Byzantine Writings of 4th-7th Centuries AD

the sun. According to this theory, the clouds were then driven towards the south by the etesian winds; hence the heavy rains overflowed on the southern springs of the Nile and the flood came because of the Ethiopian rains falling in those regions in the season of torrid heat. Ammianus saw that both of these reasons seemed to be out of harmony with the truth.45Ammianus got his evidence from the ancient writers who said that the cause of the Nile’s deluge was the etesian winds blowing for forty-five days and hindering the river from flowing out into the north; consequently, the water covered all the ground. The flood started when the sun was in Cancer and the river increased until it passed into Libra and flowed at high water at about sixteen cubits for a hundred days, then it became smaller.46 Nonnos of Panopolis held the view that the Nile’s flood took place in summer, when the star of Cancer was right opposite Capricorn.47 In a similar way, the poet Claudius Claudianus presented two opinions about the date of the Nile’s flood. First, he mentioned that the Nile’s flood took place in winter.48 However, he claimed that the flood was in the summer, too.49 Maybe, Claudius Claudianus used two different sources, which speak about the Nile. According to Claudius Claudianus, the Nile flowed more beneficently and powerfully than all other rivers; a fact that remained a mystery,50 since it used to leave a trail of ruin along the banks of all its seven mouths.51 At the end of the sixth century, Dioscorus of Aphrodito believed that the Nile flowed forth and covered Egypt’s fields.52 At the same time, Cosmas Indicopleustes wrote about the Nile’s flood that began from the Abyssinian plateau (Lake Tana), which accounted for the heavy downpour in winter on the numerous rivers, but coincided with the summer season in Egypt. Those occurrences began in July and continued until September,

 45

Ammianus Marcellinus, Res Gestae, Vol. II, XXII.15.5. 46 Ammianus Marcellinus, Res Gestae, Vol. II, XXII.15.3–13. 47 Nonnos of Panopolis, Dionysiaca, Vol. II, 17. vs 394; 26. vs 245; Vol. III, 38. vs 284-7. 48 “ante dabunt hiemes Nilum, per flumina dammae errabunt.” Claudius Claudianus, Poems, Vol. I, Panegyricus dictus Probino et Olybrio Consulibus I. vs. 169. 49 “hinc bibat aestivum septeno gurgite Nilum.” Claudius Claudianus, Poems, Vol. I, in Rufinum Liber Primus I (III) vs. 185. 50 Claudius Claudianus, Poems, Vol. I. Panegyricus dictus Manlio Theodoro Consuli XVII vs. 232–3. 51 Claudius Claudianus, Poems, Vol. II. Deprecatio ad Hadrianum XXII (XXXIX) vs. 57௅8. 52 P. Cairo. Masp. 67315, 67317; MacCoull, Dioscorus of Aphrodito, pp. 91–3, 137–40.

M. Z. Abdullah

11

making the Nile flood.53 At that time, Egypt used to be covered with the regular floods, making boats the only available means of transportation which the Egyptians used to go to the tombs during the Nile’s flood; this time of year was therefore not a busy time.54 After Emperor Constantine I became increasingly attentive to the interests of the Christians and abandoned the heathen superstitions, in which it was affirmed that Serapis brought up the Nile for the purpose of irrigating Egypt because a Nilometer was ritually carried into his temple, Constantine directed his ambassador Alexander to transfer it to the church. Although many pagans predicted that the Nile would not overflow because of the displeasure of Serapis, there was an inundation in the following year that took place regularly; thus, it was categorically proved that the rising of the Nile was not in consequence of their superstition.55 Nevertheless, the pagan rituals continued until the beginning of fifth century because Sozomen and Theophanes Confessor mocked the claim that the river would cease to flow if the sacrificial offerings stopped; as a consequence, the blood would not be mingled with the waters that derive their source from the paradise of God.56 In the Roman era, the Nile’s deluge used to rise at an average rate of 24 feet, that is equal 16 cubits, while the largest rise recorded 27 feet,57 that is why the famous statue of the Nile in the Vatican Museum in Rome, which represents the reclining god holding ears of corn and a cornucopia, was surrounded by sixteen children, each one simulated a cubit high of water (figure. 3),58 to herald the advent of great floods for the Egyptians.59 However, in the Byzantine period, the Nile flood probably did not rise over 12 cubits.60

 53

Cosmas Indicopleustes, The Christian Topography, II.140. 54 John Cassian, Conferences, II (XV) 3. 55 Socrates, The Ecclesiastical History of Socrates Scholasticus, trans. A. C. Zenos, in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church 2, Oxford – London 1890, I.18; Sozomen The Ecclesiastical History, trans. C. D. Hartranft, in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church 2, Oxford - London 1890, I.8; Theophanes Confessor, The Chronicle, Byzantine and Near Eastern History AD 284-813, trans. C. Mango and R. Scott, Oxford 1997, p. 27. 56 Sozomen, Ecclesiastical History, VII.20; Theophanes Confessor, The Chronicle, p. 112. 57 Pliny the Elder, Natural History, Vol. II, V.10.58. 58 Moret, The Nile, p. 32; A. Faraত, Al-NƯl fƯ al-Ma‫܈‬Ɨder al-IghrƯqiya “The Nile in the Greek Sources,” Cairo 2012, pp. 65–6 (in Arabic). 59 Philostratus the Younger, Imagines, I.5. 60 The Theodosian Code, trans. C. Pharr, New York 1951, 9.32.

12

The Nile in the Byzantine Writings of 4th-7th Centuries AD

Animals and Plants Interestingly, Egypt had incredibly rich flora and fauna, with the result that many animals and plants have been found on both banks of the Nile since antiquity. In the fourth century, Ammianus referred to many animals which lived on land and in water of the Nile (and therefore amphibious) such as crocodiles, which he described as destructive monsters, sometimes with a length of eighteen cubits.61 In the sixth century, Timotheus of Gaza said that crocodiles live in two rivers only, in the Nile and in Hydaspes (a river in India). Additionally, he described how Egyptians catch the crocodiles: after anointing themselves with crocodile grease, they jump into the Nile on the backs of crocodiles and catch them.62 These animals were mentioned by several Greek historians who said that there were many crocodiles in the Nile,63 which the Egyptians used to call champsae. Most interestingly, some Egyptians, especially those who lived in Thebes and by Lake Moeris (Qarnjn in Fayoum), considered the crocodiles sacred. On the other extreme, others in Elephantine regarded the crocodiles as enemies and hunted them in various ways.64 The Nile also had hippopotamuses, which were described as amphibious animals with cloven hooves like a horse,65 and as similar to the elephant, because they both have tough skin. Timotheus of Gaza described how the hippopotamus goes up to the fields to eat grass when the water of the Nile was at low level.66 In the sixth century, Timotheus of Gaza also described the Egyptian rhinoceros, which was similar in size to the hippopotamus, but its nose has a horn and lives near the Nile.67 Furthermore, there are many wild animals that are carnivorous, such as

 61

Ammianus Marcellinus, Res Gestae, Vol. II, XXII.15.14–16. 62 Timotheus of Gaza, On Animals PERI ZWWN, Fragments of a Byzantine Paraphrase of an Animal-Book of the 5th Century AD, trans. F. S. Bodenheimer and A. Rabinowitz, collection de travaux de l’académie internationale d’histoire des sciences 3, Paris - Leiden 1949, 42.1, 7. 63 Herodotus, The History, Vol. I, II. 68; Dio Cassius, Roman History, Vol. IX, LXXVI.13.4. 64 Herodotus, The History, Vol. I, II. 69௅70. 65 Ammianus Marcellinus, Res Gestae, Vol. II, XXII.15.21; Timotheus of Gaza, On Animals, 44.1-2. hippopotamus was sacred in the Lower Egypt in the ancient time. See Herodotus, The History, Vol. I, II.71; Pliny the Elder, Natural History, Vol. III, VII.30.73. 66 Timotheus of Gaza, On Animals, 44.1௅3. 67 Timotheus of Gaza, On Animals, 45.1. Pliny the Elder opined that there was an animal called the catoblepas (gnu) near the spring of Nigris in western Ethiopia. Pliny the Elder, Natural History, Vol. III, VIII. 32.77.

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lions, leopards, and hyenas that live alongside giraffes, and kynokephaloses (‫ލ‬the dog-faced baboons‫)ތ‬, as well as buffalos, elephants, horned boars, and giant snakes.68 There were also many birds living around the Nile, one of which was the ȋȘȞĮȜȫʌİțĮȢ (‘the Egyptian goose’),69 about which Dioscourus of Aphrodito wrote at the end of the sixth century. Additionally, there was a little bird called the Trochilus (‫ލ‬Egyptian warbler’) that lived on the crocodiles where it looked for bits of food when the crocodiles slept.70 Finally, the ibis was the most well-known Egyptian bird in antiquity.71 Ammianus Marcellinus, who was the most prolific writer in the fourth century, described the ibis, when he translated Herodotus’ description of it: he said that the bird is sacred, harmless, and beloved by Egyptians, because it met the winged armies of snakes which issued from Arabia Provincia. By this description, he certainly was describing the role of the ibis in killing locusts.72 The Nile contained a lot of fish called scale-fish as well as eel.73 In the papyri, we read about catching ੑ ȥȐȡȚȠȞ (‫ލ‬the fish’) and using it as food.74 In other places we read ੑ ȥȐȡȚȠȞ ʌȠIJĮȝȚȠȞ (‘the fish of the river’), indicating the Nile.75 Most importantly, the Nile gave life to many plants on its banks. In Thebes, nearly 40 miles from the Nile, an olive-producing forest was found. The region also contained the Egyptian palm tree, which produced the sweetest fruit in the winter; it contained a large pit providing the natives with quite a harvest. After cleaning the fruit, they crushed the pits and made it into cakes for storage. There was also once a forest region close to Memphis with such enormous trees that three men could not join hands around a tree’s perimeter.76 Additionally, lilies were the most well-known plants growing in the water of the Nile. The Egyptians called the lily ‘lotus,’ which they dried in

 68

P. G. P. Meyboom, The Nile Mosaic of Palestrina: Early Evidence of Egyptian Religion in Italy, Leiden – New York – Köln 1994, p. 47. 69 Herodotus, The History, Vol. I, II.72௅73. 70 Ammianus Marcellinus, Res Gestae, Vol. II, XXII.15.14–16; Timotheus of Gaza, On Animals, 42.13-14. 71 Herodotus, The History, Vol. I. II.76. 72 Ammianus Marcellinus, Res Gestae, Vol. II, XXII.15.26. 73 Herodotus, The History, Vol. I. II.76. 74 P. Wisc. 2.60.12 (IIIrd Century AD). 75 CPR 7.42.6 (Arsinoites AD 401௅500). 76 Pliny the Elder, Natural History, Vol. IV, XIII.19.63௅65.

14

The Nile in the Byzantine Writings of 4th-7th Centuries AD

the sun to get plant-based bread.77 Most significantly, papyrus was a key item of Egyptian merchandise in the Byzantine era. It used to grow everywhere along the banks of the Nile and was used to create paper by monks. They also collected the leaves of papyrus in long, slender bundles to make mats.78

People and Cities Demographically, the border of Egypt in antiquity reached just beyond Elephantine, where the country of Nubia began. At that point, an island was populated by Ethiopians and Egyptians, surrounded by a large lake on the shores of which many Ethiopian nomads dwelt.79 Cosmas in the sixth century counted the Ethiopian tribes such as Atalmo, Tangaites and Bega.80 Regrettably, the Ethiopian nomads advanced to Elephantine with their leaders, ravaged everything, and took over Meroe ‘Napata’ among other cities as their capital.81 The Romans tried to protect southern Egypt from these nomads: Septimius Severus sailed to upper Egypt in 200 AD, and by crossing the Nile, he had a panoramic view of the whole country. Unfortunately, he was unable to cross the frontier of Ethiopia because of a pestilence.82 As a matter of fact, Ammianus described many tribes as Blemmyes who dwelt on the Nile banks. The Blemmyes were warriors, half-naked in dyed cloaks that were waist length. They rode swift horses and camels at all times and never ploughed or cultivated the soil. Thus, they roamed over wide and extensive tracts without fixed abodes or laws. Their life was always on the move. A wife would offer her husband a spear and a tent as a dowry under a temporary contract with the right to leave him after a stipulated time, if she so decided.83 Ammianus elicited this evidence from Diodorus of Sicily who confirmed that the majority of Ethiopians lived by the banks of the Nile and the islands in the river, whereas others populated a region called the Arabian mountains located between the Nile and the

 77

Herodotus, The History, Vol. I, II.92. 78 John Cassian, Conferences, I.23. 79 Herodotus, The History, Vol. I, II.29. 80 Cosmas Indicopleustes, The Christian Topography, II.142. 81 Dio Cassius, Roman History, Vol. VI, LIV.5–6. 82 Dio Cassius, Roman History, Vol. IX, LXXVI.12.4. 83 Ammianus Marcellinus, Res Gestae, Vol. I, XIV.4.1-3. Török says that around 370 AD, the king of the Blemmyes dwelled in the Eastern Desert in Egypt. L. Török, “A Contribution to Post-Meroitic Chronology: the Blemmyes in Lower Nubia,” RStO 58, Fasc. 1/4 (1984), p. 219.

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Red Sea. Other Ethiopians resided in the heart of Libya. The Ethiopians who dwelt along the Nile had dark complexions, flat noses, and woolly hair. They were savage-looking, barbaric, and spoke with a shrill voice; some of them used shields of raw ox-hide, short spears, and wooden bows. The women were also well-armed. Most Ethiopians were naked; however, some of them protected their bodies from the heat of the sun by skins of sheep and goats and wore bronze rings in their lips. They used some grasses as a source of food, while others gathered wild fruits by lakes and marshes. Some Ethiopians sowed sesame and lotus, while others fed on the tender roots of the reeds. However, the majority of Ethiopians lived on the meat, milk, and cheese of their cattle.84 Ammianus described the Egyptian nation as the most ancient of all. On the southern border, it extended to Elephantine, Meroe, and some cities of Ethiopia. The eastern boundaries bordered the Red Sea.85 During the sixth century, John Malalas devoted more attention to the description of the Nile and said that the tribe of Ham, Noah’s second son, dwelled in the region around the Nile, Africa, and as far as Mauritania to the Pillars of Hercules.86 Procopius of Caesarea described the distance from Axum to the Egyptian boundaries, where the city of Elephantine was situated. This distance was a thirty-day journey and contained many nations, among which were the Blemmyes and the Nobatae. As for the Blemmyes, they dwelled in the central portion, whereas the Nobatae dominated the territory closer to the river Nile.87 The capital Meroe was encircled by Nile, where the people decorated their hair with arrows.88

Economic importance of the Nile The Nile represented an important economic means for Egypt since antiquity. The importance of the Nile was apparent for agriculture, but the Egyptian farmers only knew the Nile as ʌȠIJĮȝȚȠȞ (‫ލ‬river’) in their papyri,89 especially when writing about the conflicts between peasants living by the Nile. When the central government in Constantinople weakened in the control of the distribution of water, many peasants stole

 84

Diodorus of Sicily, The History, Vol. II, III.7–8. 85 Ammianus Marcellinus, Res Gestae, Vol. II, XXII.15.1௅3. 86 J. Malalas, The Chronicle of John Malalas, trans. E. Jeffreys, M. Jeffreys and R. Scott, ByzAus 4, Melbourne 1986, 1.6. 87 Procopius of Caesarea, History of the Wars, trans. H. B. Dewing, in The Loeb Classical Library, London – New York 1914, Vol. I, I.19.27–29. 88 Claudius Claudianus, Poems, Vol. I, Epithalamium X. vs. 222௅223. 89 CPR 7.42.6,10 (Arsinoites AD 401௅500).

16

The Nile in the Byzantine Writings of 4th-7th Centuries AD

water or broke down the dykes before the flood had reached the twelvecubit mark. This occurred when Menas, the pagarch of Antaeopolis, closed the canal which supplied Aphrodito to divert the water for his own district, and the peasants were helpless to face him,90 with the result that many villages fought over the division of the water.91 During the Byzantine period, the importance of the Nile was described by Gregory of Nazianzen, who said that the Egyptians portrayed the Nile in their songs as ‘the giver of fruits, corn and the measurer of happiness by its cubits’, where the prosperity of the country was proportionate to the annual rise of the river during the flood.92 In the fifth century, the Egyptian poet Claudius said that the Egyptian soil was the best kind, and Carthage’s in North Africa was second, because the Egyptian soil is unequalled in its prolific production of corn.93 This appeared in Egeria’s description of her journey to Egypt at the end of the fourth century when she referred to the soil in the eastern Delta where fields produced vineyards; others produced balsam, orchards, heavily cultivated fields, and numerous gardens along the banks of the Nile.94 The Nile supported the people with clay, with which pottery of various colours was produced. All of this production was for domestic and religious purposes. Many Egyptian cities were famous for their industry including Menas, Hermopolis, Aphrodito, Arsinoe, Hermonthis, Oxyrhynchus, and Thebes.95 Egyptian papyrus was the chief source of paper, and it was a key item in Egyptian merchandise in the Byzantine era. It used to grow everywhere along the banks of the Nile.96 The Egyptians used the Nile as a means of transportation with the aim of travelling from anywhere in Egypt towards Alexandria on the coast of the Mediterranean,97 using corn ships rowed by three hundred oarsmen,98

 90

P. Cairo. Masp. 67002 (c.522 AD ?). Cf. A. Ch Johnson and L. C. West, Byzantine Egypt: Economic Studies, Amsterdam 1967, p. 11. 91 Athanasius of Alexandria, Vita S. Antoni, p. 50. 92 Gregory of Nazianzen, Select Orations, trans. C. G. Browne and J. E. Swallow, in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church 7, New York 1893, Or. 39.5. 93 Claudius Claudianus, Pomes, Vol. I, De Bello Gildonico 1 (XV), vs 56௅65. 94 Egeria, Diary of a pilgrimage, trans. G. E. Gingras, in Ancient Christian Writers 38, ed. J. Quasten et als., New York 1970, p. 9. 95 Johnson and West, Byzantine Egypt, pp. 113–116. 96 John Cassian, Conferences, I.1.23. 97 SB 6.9088.3 (Oxyrhynchites 201-300 CE), 16.12340.3௅4 (Hermopolites 312 CE), 16.12636.3 (Hermopolites 301-325 CE), 24.16271.2 (Oxyrhynchites 341CE); CPR 17A7.1,22 (Hermopolites 317௅327 CE); P. Thead. 47 (IVes); P. Sakaon 29.2 (Arsinoites IVth C.); P. Amh. 2.138.5 (327 AD), 144.recto.12 (5th C.); P. Col. 7.144

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such as when Augustalis of Alexandria had the grain annona brought down the Nile to Alexandria and shipped to Constantinople.99 On the other side, the Nile connected with the port of Clysma on the Red Sea by Trajan’s canal,100 and connected with Myus Hormus by the desert road between Coptus (on the Nile’s bank) and the Red Sea.101 In 531 AD, when Justinian I (527-565 AD) sent his ambassador to the Homerites and Ethiopians, he commanded them to transport Indian goods to Rome by way of the Red Sea and Egypt by using the Nile.102 The traders sailed from the Ethiopian and Arabian ports in the south of the Red Sea to the Egyptian ports in the north such as Myus Hormus and Clysma. From Myus Hormus, the traders carried their goods by land to Coptus on the Nile’s bank, and from there they carried their goods via ships to Alexandria by the Nile.103 Additionally, Elephantine in southern Egypt was a very important port for the Ethiopian vessels during the Roman and Byzantine eras, when they traded with the Egyptians.104

The Nile between diplomacy and war The Nile played an important role in paving the way for opening diplomatic channels between the Romans and the Ethiopian tribes. The Romans maintained a large garrison after the revolution in Egypt in 297 AD. After crushing the revolution, Diocletian headed for southern Egypt to quash the tribes of Nobatae who plundered the whole region of southern Thebes. He persuaded the tribes to retreat to their own homes and settle along the Nile, promising to bestow upon them great towns and lands better than that which they had previously occupied. In this way, Emperor Diocletian achieved two aims: he prevented them from looting the Egyptian country and he warded off the Blemmyes and other barbarians in

 (Karanis AD 335 Nov 3), 7.152 (Karanis AD 345 Sep 23), 7.160–161 (Karanis AD 351௅354); P. Oxy. 86 (338 AD); P. Mich. 20.816 (AD 374 April 10); P. Cairo. Masp. 67030 (531 AD); P. Lond. 1714 (4 March, 570 AD); O. Mich. 1.171௅172 (Karanis 300-425CE); Socrates, Ecclesiastical History, III.14; Sozomen, Ecclesiastical History, IV.10. 98 Ammianus Marcellinus, Res Gestae, Vol. I, XVII.4.13. 99 Johnson and West, Byzantine Egypt, p. 156. 100 John of Nikiu, The Chronicle, LXXII.19. 101 Strabo, The Geography, Vol. VIII, 17.1.44௅45. 102 Procopius of Caesarea, History of the Wars, Vol. I, I.20.9-12; Malalas, The Chronicle, 18.56; Theophanes Confessor, The Chronicle, pp. 361–362. 103 Strabo, The Geography, Vol. VIII, 17.1.44–45. 104 Pliny the Elder, Natural History, Vol. II, V.10.59.

18

The Nile in the Byzantine Writings of 4th-7th Centuries AD

southern Egypt. This pleased the Nobatae who migrated immediately and took possession of all the Roman cities and the land on both sides of the Nile beyond the city of Elephantine. Afterwards, Emperor Diocletian stipulated a fixed sum of gold be given annually to the Blemmyes on the condition that they should no longer loot Roman lands in Egypt. According to Procopius of Caesarea, the Nobatae and Blemmyes continued to receive the tribute until the reign of Justinian I. In the reign of Emperor Diocletian, a very strong fortress close to the city of Elephantine was constructed where he established certain temples and altars for the Romans and the Ethiopian tribes. Furthermore, he made room for priests of both nations to settle in the fortress with the goal of cementing friendship through sharing the things sacred to them. The place was called Philae (Lovers) as a result.105 Emperor Diocletian moved the Legio prima Maximiana to Philae to prevent the threatening of Blemmyes and Nobatae,106 as well as translated the Legio tertia Diocletiana Thebes for the province of Thebes,107 which camped in Apollonis Magna ‘Edfu.’108 Furthermore, Emperor Constantine II (337-340 AD) translated a uexillatio Parthusagittariorum from Syria to Diospolis in the province of upper Thebes in 340 AD under the command of Senecio ‘comes limitis’ to protect the southern frontier of Egypt from the Nobatae and Blemmyes.109 This garrison continued to stay in southern Egypt after 425 A.D., which was called Equites sagittarii indigenae Diospoli in the ‘Notitia Dignitatum.’110 But the Blemmyes and Nobatae continued their attacks on the province of upper Thebes, especially in Philae and Syene during 425-450 AD. As a result, Appion, bishop of Syene and Philae, sent a request to Emperors Theodosius II (408-450 A.D.) and Valentinianus III (424-454 A.D.) to direct the soldiers to protect

 105

Procopius of Caesarea, History of the Wars, Vol. I, I.19.29-36; R. B. Hitchner and A. Kažhdan, vs “Blemmyes (ǺȜȑȝȝȣİȢ),” The Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium, Vol. I, p. 296; V. Christides, “Ethnic Movements in Southern Egypt and Northern Sudan: Blemmyes-Beja in Late Antique and Early Arab Egypt until 707 AD,” Listy filologické/Folia philologica, Roþ. 103, ýís. 3 (1980), pp. 131–32. About the Byzantine existence in Nubia during the fifth century see T. Hägg, “Nubicograeca I-III (Bemerkungen zu griechischen Texten aus Nubien),” ZPE 54 (1984), pp. 101–12. 106 Notitia Dignitatum, ed. O. Seeck, Berlin 1876, Or. XXXI.37. 107 Notitia Dignitatum, Or. XXXI. 38. 108 D. van-Berchem, L’armée de Dioclétien et la réforme Constantinienne, Paris 1952, p. 62. 109 H. I. Bell et als. (ed.), The Abinnaeus Archive, Papers of Roman Officer in the Reign of Constantius II, Oxford 1962, pp. 1, 4–5. 110 Notitia Dignitatum, Or. XXXI. 27.

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the churches, just as the soldiers in neighbouring Philae were being put at the service of its churches.111 Probably, the Byzantine administration responded to this appeal for aid, so, one thousand solider in Legio secunda Traiana was translated from Latopolis ‘Esna’ to Syene, and was called Milites Miliarenses, Syene.112 Additionally, Cohors prima felix Theodosiana was translated to Elephantin.113 The Emperor Justinian I (c. 536 AD) decided to destroy both the Nobatae and Blemmyes; accordingly, he promoted Narses and told him to command the troops and raze the pagan temples of the Nobatae and Blemmyes. The Emperor commanded that the priests be put under house arrest and sent the pagan statues to Byzantium.114 At the same time, the Nile was the mean of diplomacy of Justinian I when he sent his ambassador Julian to Esimiphaeus, king of Homerite in Arabia Felix, and Hellestheaeus, king of Axum, in 531 AD to direct their religious community towards joining with the Romans in war against the Persian king, Kovades.115 The ambassador Julian sailed for Alexandria, from whence he sailed on the Nile and reached Ethiopian territory by way of the Red Sea. On arriving at Axum, he described the Ethiopian ceremonies in the palace and the clothes of the king and provincial governors with flautists playing music. When the Byzantine ambassador arrived at Axum, he gave the letter and gifts of Emperor Justinian to the Ethiopian king, who kissed the seal and received the gifts. Upon opening and interpreting the letter, the Ethiopian king read the commands of Justinian to arm against Kovades to destroy the territory bordering on his own, and to sever all commercial exchange with him in the future. As an alternative, the Ethiopians could trade through the country of the Homerites. The Byzantine ambassador returned to Constantinople via the Nile.116

Conclusion Although the Nile was mentioned in some Byzantine sources during the period between the fourth and seventh centuries, most of those historical and geographical sources got much their information from Greek and

 111

B. Porten, The Elephantine Papyri in English: Three Millennia of CrossCultural Continuity and Change, Documenta et monumenta orientis antiqui 22, Leiden – New York – Köln 1996, D 19. 112 Notitia Dignitatum, Or. XXXI. 34–5, 37. 113 Notitia Dignitatum, Or. XXXI. 64. 114 Procopius of Caesarea, History of the Wars, Vol. I, I.19.36–7. 115 Procopius of Caesarea, History of the Wars, Vol. I, I. 20.9–12. 116 Malalas, The Chronicle, 18.56.

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The Nile in the Byzantine Writings of 4th-7th Centuries AD

Roman sources, especially the information about the sources of the Nile and its seven mouths, the causes of the flood, plants, animals that grew and lived on its banks, and the tribes and peoples who lived close to it. Maybe the Byzantine influence was a result of the cultural decline in its later age, which created a dependence and lack of innovation, which pushed them to imitate the Roman writings. The Byzantine writers did not exert themselves to conduct or investigate the Nile, although many of them were Egyptian or had visited Egypt. Although the Byzantine writers differed in their understanding of the Nile, which based on the requirements and variables of the Byzantine era, and was influenced by the Christian writers in that age, yet the name ‘Nile’ has remained the more common name until now, although the word river ‘ʌȠIJĮȝȚȠȞ’ was used in the Greek papyri. Finally, the Byzantine historians in the sixth century AD, such as Procopius of Caesarea and John Malalas, mentioned that the Byzantine embassies to Arabia Felix and Ethiopia travelled through the Nile and the Red Sea to make political alliances between Justinian I and the kings of Abyssinia and Homerites, and the role of the river in the consolidation of these relations from the time of the Emperor Diocletian in 297 AD, until the Islamic conquest of Egypt (639-642 AD).

Illustrations

 Figure 1: The World according to Herodotus in 450 BC Source: http://www.eupedia.com/forum/threads/26277-Illyria/page2

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Figure 2: The World according to Strabo in 25 BC, drawn by George Cram for Cram’s Universal Atlas, Geographical, Astronomical and Historical in 1900 CE.(6) Source: http://beforewinthrop.com/section1/BW1-02-TechMovesWestEurope.html

Figure 3: Statue of the Nile from Vespasian’s Temple of Peace. Musei Vaticani, Roma (Italy). Source: http://www.livius.org/a/1/egypt/nile_vat.JPG

EGYPTIAN MONASTICISM IN SOUTHERN FRANCE: MONASTIC DIVERSITY IN THE EYES OF CASSIAN P. ARGÁRATE UNIVERSITY OF GRAZ, AUSTRIA

From his original Dubruja, in today‫ތ‬s Romania, John Cassian started a journey that will take his entire life. Moving at the beginning south to Bethlehem, where he entered a monastery, sojourning afterwards for ten years in Egypt, where he met famous ascetics and experienced Egyptian monasticism, he left around 400 AD to go to Constantinople, Rome and, eventually, to Marseille, where he died in 432 AD. This study discusses Cassian's presentation of the different kinds of monasticism he encountered in Egypt. The main sources are his Conferences 18 (On the three kinds of monks; which was received by both Regula Magistri and Regula Benedicti with almost no modifications) and 19 (On the end of the cenobite and of the hermit).1 This analysis provides us with an overview of the broader diversity of monastic life and its different goals. It is especially through Cassian‫ތ‬s mediation, which is not neutral but follows a precise agenda of reforming Gallic monasticism, that Western Christianity will perceive Egyptian monastic experience and will carry it on in a different context. Due to the historical relevance of the development of monasticism in Occident, Cassian's role can hardly be exaggerated even today.

1

Johannes Cassianus, The Conferences, trans. B. Ramsey, New York 1997.

24

Egyptian Monasticism in Southern France

I. Introduction 1. Life It has been often stated how elusive the person of John Cassian is, hiding behind his works, even self-effacing. 2 We do not know with certainty about important facts of his life such as his exact name, his place of birth, and even of some periods of his life there is no information. It seems (and not more than that) that he was born in the Dobruja, Scythia Minor, today's Romania, in the 360s. While some scholars proposed Gaul, the majority tends today to Dobrudja, on the basis, among other factors, of Cassian’s bilingualism. This is much more cultural than only linguistic and prepared him from early on to serve as a bridge between the East and the West, becoming an ambassador of Eastern Christianity and especially monasticism first in Rome and then, eventually, in Gaul. After receiving a solid classical education, he started a journey that would take his entire life. We find him in ca. 380 AD at what had become the centre or the Christian world, the Holy Land, 3 the place where salvation started. Indeed, in Bethlehem, he entered a cenobitic Latinspeaking monastery not far from the Nativity’s basilica. However, his remembrance of that time is outshined by his later encounter with Egyptian monasticism. Indeed, after a few years, having received permission, he undertook a monastic tour to Egypt, together with Germanus, who would become his inseparable companion. They spent there, however, much more years than what that visit of monasteries had been planned, and had to return in-between in order to be freed from the oath they had taken to return to their monastery and so be able to go back again to Egypt. It is highly difficult to reconstruct their itinerary in Egypt in detail. Arriving in Thennessus, they moved to Panephysis and later to Diolcos. In their journey, they met famous ascetics and experienced representatives of Egyptian monasticism. Diolcos is relevant for us because there they met Piamun and John, the two elders of Conferences 18 and 19, which constitute the centre of the present study. From Diolcos they continued to Skete, the renowned monastic centre, and made it their monastic base. Indeed, besides Moses and Paphnutius, Cassian would attribute conferences to other five abbas of Skete. From Skete they also went to Kellia. However, Cassian avoids any mention of the monks there. 2

C. Stewart, Cassian the Monk, Oxford 1998, p. 3. However, he never mentions Jerusalem or the other holy places besides Bethlehem. Neither has he mentioned Jerome’s monastery in that city. 3

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Especially striking is the absolute silence upon the leading spiritual authority there, Evagrius; arguably his most influential source. In failing to do so, he might have attempted to distance himself from Evagrian Origenism. The reasons for this appear to be a big crisis within this monastic line, which eventually led to a large exodus of Origenist monks after 399 AD, from which Cassian appears to share views in many respects.4 Among these exiled ascetics, Cassian with Germanus, received refuge under the bishop of Constantinople, John Chrysostom, who ordained the latter as a priest and Cassian as a deacon. That this was no durable solution was clear when John entered in conflict with the bishop of Alexandria, because of receiving the exiled Egyptian monks. After Chrysostomus was finally deposed in 404 AD, Cassian and Germanus were sent within a delegation from Constantinople to inform the Church of Rome about Chrysostom's unlawful deposition. It is not clear if both monks returned to Constantinople with the answer of the bishop of Rome. It seems, however, more probable that they remained in Rome, where Germanus eventually died. Especially obscure appears this period of 405415 AD, for which different possibilities have been proposed, after which we eventually find Cassian in Massilia, southern Gaul. There he found a particular situation. While Christian asceticism had already started with St. Martin, it was not yet real monastic asceticism. In Lérins, emerged later a monastic way with the work of St. Honoratus. Against this setting, we can understand Cassian's contribution in this process of monastic development in Gaul 5 There, he founded two monasteries: Saint Victor, for monks, and Saint Saviour, for nuns. However, his lasting contribution is to be found in his literary activity: he penned his most important works: the Institutes and the Conferences. These are to be seen within a well-defined agenda. First, it is evident that he developed a significant monastic network, as is apparent from the different prefaces to the three parts of the Conferences. Within this global framework, he undertook the reform of previous monasticism in the region. He considered it too disorganized and lacking discipline and 4 S. Hausammann, Gottes Dreiheit - des Menschen Freiheit. Zur Geschichte und Theologie im 4./5. Jahrhundert; Trinitätslehre, Anfänge des Mönchtums, Augustin und Augustinismus, Neukirchen-Vluyn 2003 (Alte Kirche, 3), p. 452: “bei Cassian begegnet uns also ein origenistisches Mönchtum … Er versuchte vielmehr die monastische Tradition, wie er sie in Palästina, Ägypten und Konstantinopel erlernt hatte, im Westen weiter zu geben. In dieser Funktion ist er insbesondere auch für das benediktinische Mönchtum wichtig geworden.” 5 Cf. J. Fontaine, “L‫ތ‬ascetisme chrétien dans la littérature gallo-romaine d’Hilaire à Cassien,” in Atti del colloquio sul tema: ‫ލ‬La Gallia Romana,‫ ތ‬Roma 1973, p. 108.

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relying too much on miracles. On the contrary, he presents Egyptian monasticism as the canonical and original one, based on “institutes” and discipline. In Cassian's pages, Egyptian elders are now, twenty years later, addressing Gallic monks, through Cassian (and Germanus). Eastern monastic experience is now delivered to Western audience through the “authority” of Cassian, the eyewitness of supreme monastic perfection. In addition, having become a highly influential character in the monastic topography of Gaul, he died between 432 and 435.

2. Cassianus’ Sources Besides the Bible, Cassian has abundantly read classical and Christian texts. 6 From the Fathers, he knows among others Origen, especially present in Cassian's allegory and typology, and within monastic literature: Palladius' Historia Lausiaca, Sulpitius’ Dialogues, the Life of Antony, Jerome, Augustine, and some strata of the Apophthegmata. From earlier Church Fathers, it is clear that he had acquaintance with Hermas, Irenaeus, Tertullian, Cyprian, Eusebius of Caesarea, Basil and his beloved John Chrysostom. His main source remains, nevertheless, Evagrius. To some extent, Cassianus “translates” and adapts Evagrius to Western Christianity. His spiritual theology is deeply indebted to the elder of Kellia. However, Cassian is much more than a divulgator of Evagrius. It is apparent that in the thought of Cassian, a great number of sources is to be found, especially if we consider his infrequent bilingualism. In this sense, it is clear that they inspired him. In this vein, the teaching of the Institutes and the Conferences “propagent en Occident une doctrine déjà bien exposée en Orient,”7 and unlike what he often manifests, he is not providing anything substantially new, with the exception of bringing that solid doctrine to a new audience: Western monasticism.

6

See Stewart, Cassian the Monk, pp. 35–37; L. Dattrino, Giovanni Cassiano, Conferenze ai monaci (I–X), Traduzione, introduzione e note a cura di L. Dattrino, Roma: Città Nuova 2000, pp. 15–19. 7 J-C. Guy, “Jean Cassien, historien du monachisme égyptien?,” in F. L. Cross (ed.), Papers presented to the Fourth International Conference on Patristic Studies. International Conference on Patristic Studies, Akademie-Verl (Texte und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der altchristlichen “Literatur, 93), Berlin 1966, p. 365.

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27

Neither can be maintained that Cassian offers the earliest teaching on monastic life in Latin,8 since there was already monastic literature in this language before the Institutes and the Conferences.9

3. Reception Cassian's diffusion and influence on Western monasticism has been immense. In effect, starting with the monks of Lérins, following with Cassiodorus, Caesarius, it was mainly in the monastic rules, especially the Rule of the Master and, through him, the Rule of Benedict, where his impact was strongest.10 In that way, he became in the West “the” authority on Eastern ascetical and monastic life.11 Nevertheless, we cannot overlook a problematic aspect of his reception in the West: his Conf. 13 and its connection to what has been called “semipelagianism.”

8 M. Skeb, “John Cassian,” in S. Doepp and W. Geerlings (eds.) Dictionary of Early Christian Literature, New York 2000, p. 329. 9 Guy, “Jean Cassien,” p. 364: “A cette date, la littérature monastique en langue latine, qu‫ތ‬il s‫ތ‬agisse de textes originaux ou de traductions, est déjà abondante.” 10 Cf. Stewart, Cassian the Monk, p. 25: “The Master's debt to Cassian, especially in ascetical doctrine, is tremendous. To the master goes the credit for the creative elaboration of Cassian's ten marks on humility (Inst. 4.39) into twelve degrees of humility. Benedict inherited Cassian‫ތ‬s teaching from the Master, and also added his own deep knowledge of both Institutes and Conferences.” 11 Dattrino, Giovanni Cassiano, p. 23: “Il nome di Cassiano, apparso come persona ricca di straordinarie esperienze in materia, divenne ben presto famoso come fonte privilegiata di informazione intorno alla vita ascetica e monacale condotta nei centri dell'Oriente: se ne parlava come di ambienti d'assoluta perfezione. Cassiano rispose a quegli appelli con opere scritte che ebbero in seguito una diffusione notevole.” See also Hausammann, Gottes Dreiheit-des Menschen Freiheit, p. 452: “Er versuchte vielmehr die monastische Tradition, wie er sie in Palästina, Ägypten und Konstantinopel erlernt hatte, im Westen weiter zu geben. In dieser Funktion ist er insbesondere auch für das benediktinische Mönchtum wichtig geworden.” W. Harmless, Desert Christians: An Introduction to the Literature of Early Monasticism, Oxford 2004, p. 403: “Cassian was not neutral. He transformed the legacy, he received an in the process instituted–in a new language–monasticism made for the harsher climate of the West. He exerted a profound influence first on fifth-century Gallic monasticism, then on Benedict and his Rule, and finally, through Benedict, on the whole Medieval West. Cassian earned equal respect in the Greek East. He is the only Latin-speaking author whose sayings appear in the Apophthegmata Patrum, a singular honor. Whereas the West would begrudge him the title of ‫ލ‬saint‫ ތ‬and a place in its liturgical calendar, the Greek East felt no such inhibition.”

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This did not affect at all, however, his reception, reputation and sainthood in the East. As a bilingual author and due to the depth of his spiritual theology, he was also highly esteemed in the Christian East, as it is attested by the unusual fact for a Latin author of being taken into the alphabetical collection of the Apopththegmata, and even later in the Philokalia.12

4. Works Beside the treatise On the Incarnation of the Lord, commanded by whom later would become Pope Leo, in order to combat Nestorian ideas, his significant works are the Institutes and the Conferences. Being written in the ten years that passed between 419 and 429, they respond to a same plan, carried out in three phases. In the original project, we find the twelve books of the Institutes and the first instalment of ten Conferences with abbas of Skete. An expansion of the plan came later with two further series of seven conferences. The Institutes are clearly divided into two parts: basic introduction into cenobitic monasticism [1-4] and the presentation and analysis of the eight main vices [5-12]. The 24 Conferences cover a broad variety of monastic questions and they have the same structure. Within the classical form of the erotapokríseis, they deal with conversations, where a young disciple (Germanus) poses spiritual questions to an elder (in all Conferences, a total of 15 elders appear, since some have more than one conference). As mentioned above, Cassian remains always in the background, silent, as the narrator of the conference. Although different works, Institutes and Conferences are deeply interconnected, forming part of a same project, as already stated, with frequent mutual references, in such a way that they appear to be two sides of one coin.13 I have already stated that the dedications of the different parts of the Conferences and of the Institutes are highly relevant in order to understand Cassian's monastic project. The Institutes were dedicated to the bishop (Pope) Castor, while the first part of the Conferences were intended for bishops Leontius and Helladios: “The obligation that was incurred with respect to the blessed Pope Castor in the preface of those volumes that summarized in twelve books the 12 13

Cf. Stewart, Cassian the Monk, p. 25. Stewart, Cassian the Monk, p. 31.

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institutes of the cenobia and the remedies for the eight principal vices has, with the Lord's help, been more or less fulfilled; our feeble nature was just capable of it … Now, however, since the aforesaid bishop has left us and gone to Christ, I thought that there should be dedicated to you above all, O most blessed Pope Leontius and holy brother Helladius, the ten conferences of the greatest fathers–anchorites who dwelled in the desert of Skete–which he, inflamed with an incomparable zeal for holiness, had ordered to be written in like words, not thinking in the breadth of his charity what a heave weight he was laying on weak shoulders.”14

The second series is dedicated to bishop Honoratus and Eucherius, and finally the third one, to Jovinianus, Minervus, Leontius, and Theodore. In other words, Cassian addresses his works to those who are shaping the emerging Gallic monasticism.15 In these prefaces, we receive a glimpse of Cassian's ascetical politics. He intends, as already referred, to reform what is inconvenient in that form of monasticism, 16 by presenting the true monastic life, the one professed in Egypt. In this way, “Cassian offers his Conferences as a way for the new monks of Gaul to overhear the great monks of Egypt speaking as they did back home.”17 Indeed, although the Conferences speak of Egypt, the intended audience lived in southern Gaul.

II. The Conferences In order to provide a glimpse of the topics dealt in the extensive 24 Conferences, I present here the main themes of each one of them. First Part (1-10) 1) On the goal and end of the monk 2) On discretion 3) On the three renunciations 4) On the desire of the flesh and of the spirit 5) On the eight principal vices 6) On the slaughter of some holy persona 7) On the changeableness of the soul and on evil spirits 8) On the principalities 9) On prayer I 10) On prayer II 14

Cassian's Preface to the first part, 1–2 Cf. Harmless, Desert Christians, p. 388: “He clearly wanted to disseminate his message to those who had the authority to bring it to fruition.” 16 Fontaine, “L'ascetisme chrétien dans la littérature gallo-romaine,” p. 109. 17 Stewart, Cassian the Monk, p. 3. 15

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Second Part (XI-XVII) 10) On Perfection 11) On Chastity 12) On God’s Protection 13) On Spiritual Knowledge 14) On Divine Gifts 15) On Friendship 16) On Making Promises Third Part (XVIII-XXIV) 16) On the Three Kinds of Monks 17) The End of the Cenobite and of the Hermit 18) On the End of Repentance and on the Mark of Reparation 19) On the Relaxation at Pentecost 20) On Nocturnal Illusions 21) On Sinlessness 22) On Mortification

III. Diversity of Monastic Experience After this presentation of the general structure of the Conferences, in their three parts, I will focus now upon Conferences 18 and 19. Although attributed to two different abbas (Piamun 18 and John) they are deeply connected and the latter bases upon and expands what has been dealt with in the former. In both cases, as it is often the case in Cassian, we have a very systematic, almost scholastic, presentation and argumentation about the principles of monastic life. Main terminology refers to professions/perfections (for designing the two main forms of monastic life) and their ends 19 (which is central in 19). Indeed, these two main forms of monastic life constitute the thread through Cassian's works.20 In both cases, our author or the abbas that are teaching refer to discipline, precepts, rules and institutes to attain that end. In doing this, they clearly state the necessity of knowing these distinctions. 18

Already mentioned in 17.24 and he appears also in Historia monachorum in Aegypto, 25 and Sozomen, Historia ecclesiastica, 6.29. 19 In Conf. 1 (2.1–4.1) from the very outset abba Moses clearly distinguishes between the goal (skopos) and the end (telos) of monastic life. 20 Cf. Harmless, Desert Christians, p. 401: “The theme of two monastic lifestyles is a thread that runs through Cassian‫ތ‬s whole project. He dedicates the Institutes to issues of cenobitic life, while the first then Conferences use anchorites as spokesmen and seem geared to anchoritic spirituality.”

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1. Conference 18 It is set close to Diolcos [located at one of the seven mouths of the Nile] and, as already pointed out, the main character is here an elderly monastic and priest, abba Piamun (1), who, after practicing hospitality with Germanus and Cassian and having inquired about their origin, teaches them how they have to adapt to Egyptian discipline (2-3). After this prologue, Piamun will expand upon the central topic of the conference, namely the different kinds of monks (4). In doing so, he undertakes a very precise presentation, systematically organised, dedicating a paragraph to each monastic kind: the cenobites (5), the anchorites (6), the sarabaites (7), the unnamed fourth kind (8) and finally, in answering Germanus' question, he distinguishes between a monastery and a cenobium (9-10). The following paragraphs (11-16) deal with other issues such as humility, patience and envy, which, however, do not interest us in the context of this study. In the analysis of the conference, I will focus on three key aspects: a) the alleged superiority of Egyptian monasticism over other forms, b) the claimed origin of monastic life in the eyes of Piamun-Cassian c) the different kinds of monks. As referred before, after the setting of the conference and introducing the abba and priest Piamun (1), this one, finding out that Germanus and Cassian come from a “cenobium in Syria,”21 takes occasion to bring up a problem caused by several monks from the same region that, having come to Egypt, did not adapt to the “Institutes” of this country but continued living according to their own uses. “For we have known some people who have come to this place from your region in order to go around to the monasteries of the brothers merely for the sake of getting acquainted with them, but not in order to receive the rules and institutes for which they came here ... Holding on to the behaviour and concerns to which they were accustomed, they were thought to have changed provinces not for the sake of their own progress but out of a need to escape poverty, and many people reproach them for this.”22

The text reports that some monks come to learn (“for the sake of their own progress”) from Egyptian monasticism, here explicitly presented as consisting in “receiv[ing] the rules and institutes.” The notion of instituta is key. They are the foundational principles, with which “Cassian, like a

21 22

In XIX, 1.3: Cassian speaks also from “our monastery in Syria.” Conf. 18. 2.2.

32

Egyptian Monasticism in Southern France

good architect, wanted to institute this new monastic edifice by surveying the terrain and laying out a firm foundation.”23 What these monks do, or at least what they are expected to do, is the following. They undertake a monastic tour (“go around the monasteries of the brothers”) and they should, after receiving the (Egyptian) rules and institutes from the different abbas, go to their cells and put them into practice. We know that the boom of monasticism in Egypt in the second half of the fourth century attracted many people from the entire Christian world of that time, who wanted to personally experience this new form of life. In the case of the reference of Piamun, the problem here appears to be some “Syrian” monks. About the situation in the monasteries in Syria, we have Germanus' and Cassian's reports and reflection. In the third conference, they honestly acknowledge: “[W]e just realized that we had not yet even begun to dream of the summit of monasticism when, after having learned very little in the cenobia about the second renunciation, we discovered that we had not heard anything about the third, in which all perfection is contained and which is vastly superior to the other two.”24

Although coming to learn, i.e. to receive (new) rules, those monks persist upon the old own ones. The new way of life (the Egyptian one) is considered to be, at least in the expectations of Piamun and many others, as a progress for those monks. Nevertheless, the practice is far from this ideal and Piamun ascribes other earthly reasons to this pilgrimage. In reality, they are–as we would call them today–economic migrants since, in the eyes of the abba, they are looking for a better life, not in the spiritual sense (“for the sake of their own progress”), but concretely their aim is “to escape poverty.” In other words, these groups of Syrian (Palestinian, we would say) monks remain a strange body within the broad Egyptian monastic geography. However, the reproach that Piamun and other monks (“many people”) address to them is not material but spiritual. They simply do not acknowledge the superiority of Egyptian monastic practices. On the contrary, they persist upon their own practices. These are explicitly named by the abba. These monks continue wearing the same kind of clothes they wore in Syria; they pray and fast also according to Syrian traditions and, the worse, they do not put in practice the "Egyptian" rules, but just visit

23

Harmless, Desert Christians, p. 379. Conf. 3.22.4. On the instruction that Germanus and Cassian received in their own cenobium in Bethlehem see 5.12.3; 17.3 ff, 18.2.2 ff., 19.1.3 ff., 21.11 24

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33

the monasteries, only to get acquainted with the monks. In other words, no sins are attributed to them, but simply that they do not adapt to the “Egyptian way of life,” but “hold(ing) on to the behaviour and concerns to which they were accustomed.” Piamun regards all this as stubbornness, and, as a consequence, those monks did not acquire any instructions and had to leave Egypt. It is clear, however, that by reporting this speech of Piamun, Cassian is mainly addressing his Gallic audience. Also, for them it is the Egyptian version of monasticism, provided by Cassian himself,25 the canonical one. Moreover, like Germanus and Cassian, they are required to forget everything what they thought they knew about monasticism. Going back to Piamun, after offering this desolate state of affairs, he turns to Germanus and Cassian, urging them to take a different stance than his fellow monks. Therefore, if, as we believe, concern for God has drawn you to seek after our knowledge, you must completely renounce (abdicate) all the institutes that accompanied your first beginnings in the former place and follow with great humility whatever you see our elders do or teach.26 Unlike the other Syrian monks, they ought first of all to acknowledge the superiority of the Egyptian experience and forget the Syrian one, with its institutes. The way is the one of imitation of the Egyptian abbas,27 in “whatever” they teach them. This obedience to them and their “institutes” accepts no discussion,28 but requires great “humility.” Having made clear, the basis for taking profit of his teaching, Piamun turns to the real theme of the conference, namely the different kind of monks. Also, here he provides an unusual, almost scholastic, clarification. Therefore, the first thing that you must know is how and where the order and origin of our profession (ordo atque principium professionis

25

A. DE Vogüé, “Monachisme et église dans la penseée de Cassien,” in Théologie de la vie monastique. Études sur la tradition patristique, Paris 1961, p. 217: “C‫ތ‬est un écrivain latin, soucieux de grandir aux yeux des moines d‫ތ‬Occident la tradition égyptienne ont il est le porte-parole, qui a lancée cette thèse.” 26 Conf. 18. 3.1. 27 Conf. 18. 3.1: “Nor should you be moved or diverted or held back from imitating (ab imitatione) them, even if the reason or the cause for a particular thing or deed is not clear to you at the time...” 28 Conf. 18.3.2: “But whoever begins to learn by discussion will never enter into the reason for the truth because the enemy will see him trusting in his own judgment rather than in that of the fathers and will easily drive him to the point where event things which are very beneficial and salutary will seem useless and harmful to him.”

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Egyptian Monasticism in Southern France

nostrae) came about. For a person will be able to pursue the discipline (disciplinam) of the desired art (artis) more effectively and be drawn to exercise it more ardently when he recognizes the dignity of its authors and founders (auctorum ac fundatorum).29 Without distinguishing yet the different kinds of monks, Piamun speaks at this point of a single “profession,” which they share. In order to attain the goal, it is necessary to know how this was originated and which the founders were as well. In proposing this, the abba presents monastic life as another “ars,” which requires, as every art, a certain “disciplina.” In other words, we will listen now which is (are) the monastic way(s), who started it/them and how are we to attain its/their goal(s). Against this background, Piamun is able to produce his central statement: “Tria sunt in Aegypto genera monachorum…”30 and introduce us in the following three chapters each of these three “genera” in detail. Here, however, each of them is presented very briefly in regard to their main characteristics. In Egypt, there are three kinds of monks. Two of them are very good (optima), while the third is lukewarm (tepidum) and utterly to be avoided. The first is that of the cenobites (coenobiotarum), who live together in a community and are governed by the judgement of one elder (qui scilicet in congregatione pariter consistentes unius senioris iudicio gubernantur). The greatest numbers of monks dwelling throughout Egypt are of this kind. The second is that of the anchorites (anachoretarum), who are first instructed in the cenobia and then, perfected in their practical way of live, choose the recesses of the dessert. We have chosen to be part of this profession, too. The third and blameworthy (reprehensibile) one is that of the sarabaites. We shall discuss each of these in order and at great length (per ordinem plenius).31 From the three groups (later he will mention in passing a fourth one) a clear line is traced between the first two, characterized as “optima,” and the third one, “tepidum” and later even “reprehensibile.” Piamun does not explain so far the meaning of the names of the three categories. The definition of the first one is done through the reference to their common life, as the names points it out, but also in their obedience to one abba. Benedict will also refer later to the elder, adding however another element: the (monastic) rule.32 The second class clearly bases upon and presupposes 29

Conf. 18. 4.1. Conf. 18. 4.1. 31 Conf. 18. 4.2. 32 Regula Benedicti, text and trans. A. De Vogüé and J. Neufville, Paris 1972, I: “militans sub regula uel abate.” 30

P. Argárate

35

the first one. The third one is only introduced by its name and further qualified as “blameworthy.” After this summary introduction and after stating the importance of knowing “the founders of these three professions,” Piamun will abound in each of these groups. Herein, new and relevant for our study will be Piamum's/Cassian‫ތ‬s interesting explanation about the origin of the different kinds, especially the first two. We turn now to the question on the origins of monasticism and the different kinds of monks. The discipline of the cenobites took its rise at the time of the apostolic preaching (a tempore praedicationis apostolicae). For such was the whole multitude of believers in Jerusalem, which is described thus in the Acts of the Apostles.33 In this way, Cassian places in the mouth of Piamun this particular connection between cenobitic life and first Christians. It must be first stated that the reference is not to the apostles but to their preaching and, especially, the effect of this upon the early community of Jerusalem. The text continues with three quotations from the Acts of the Apostles34 that became classic in supporting the spirituality of later monastic and religious life; passages that point out the suppression of private property and the common sharing of everything. This will be the point of connection between the early Christian community and the cenobites: their having everything in common. In the meantime, this will be a special bone of content with the blameworthy forms of monasticism. In any case, that high ideal did not uphold for a long time and contrasts in the view of Piamun with the situation of the Church and even the cenobia at his time.35 This break,36 however did not take place recently but very early, with the disappearance of the apostles. Then, “at the death of the apostles, the multitude of believers began to grow lukewarm, especially those who came over to the faith of Christ from different foreign nations.” 37 Indeed, Piamun charges especially former pagans of gradually “spoil[ing] the perfection of the Church which was in 33

Conf. 18. 5.1. Chapters 2 and 4. 35 Cf. Conf. 18. 5.2: “Such, I say, was the whole Church then, whereas now it is difficult to find even a few like this in the cenobia.” 36 On this decline from the original perfection, see Conf. 7.23; 19.5.2; 21.30 and Inst. 2.5 and also in some other examples of monastic literature such as Jerome's Vita Malchi 1; Apopthegmata partum, Elia 8; Peomen 166; Verba seniorum, 10.105, 10.114, 17.19: Regula Benedicti 18.25; 40.6. John Moschus, Pratum sprituale, 54, 130,162,168. 37 Conf. 18. 5.2. 34

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Jerusalem.” This claim is argued upon the concessions given to them in the early practice of Christianity, especially at the so-called council of Jerusalem. This is perceived as a relaxation, in which eventually even the leaders of the Church will fall; 38 a relaxation in the earlier practice of having everything in common and not possessing anything. At that time, some people did no longer consider irreconcilable to be a Christian and, in the meantime, to possess properties.39 “Those in whom the apostolic fervor still existed (adhuc apostolicus inerat feruor), however, were mindful of that earlier perfection (memores illius pristinae perfectionis). Abandoning (discedentes) their towns and the company of those who believed that the negligence of a more careless life was lawful for both themselves and the Church of God, they began to live in rural and more secluded places and to practice privately and individually (priuatim ac peculiariter) what they remembered (meminerant) the rules (institutes) [taught by the apostles] in a general way throughout the body of the Church. So it was that there flourished the discipline which we have said came from the disciples who removed themselves (sequestrauerant) from contamination.”40

Within this state of decay, there is a “holy rest.” In this context, the text refers twice to the remembrance. A group has not forgotten the primitive state, here designed as the “earlier perfection” taught by the apostles. More than a group, there are private persons that individually save the memory from oblivion. In such way, continuity between apostolic times and the consolidation of monasticism is clearly stated. There is, however, a break, at least physically, since that rest abandoned their milieu, mainly the cities, and went to more solitary places, in order to put into practice the earlier perfection and its rules. It does not seem clear so far, what does this mean. In any case, it appears that no community is referred (another break with the origins), since the practice of these people is “private and individual.” They broke not only topographically but also

38

Conf. 18. 5.2: “But at the death of the apostles, the multitude of believers began to grow lukewarm, especially those who came over to the faith of Christ from different foreign nations … But this liberty, which was conceded to the pagans because of the weakness of their new faith, gradually began to spoil the perfection of the Church which was in Jerusalem, and, as the number of natives and of foreigners daily increased, the warmth of that new faith grew cold and not only those who had come over to the faith of Christ but even those who were the leaders of Church relaxed their strictness.” 39 Conf. 18. 5.3. 40 Conf. 18. 5.3.

P. Argárate

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spiritually (from contamination). This separation does not end there but will continue to increase. “As time went on they gradually separated themselves from the crowd of believers (segregati a credentium) by reason of the fact that they abstained from marriage, cut themselves off (secernerent) from the company of their parents and from the life of this world, and were called monks or ȝȠȞ੺ȗȠȞIJİȢ (monachi siue ȝȠȞ੺ȗȠȞIJİȢ) because of the strictness of their individual and solitary lives. Consequently, they are called cenobites (coenobiotae) from their common fellowship (ut ex communione consortii), and their cells and dwelling places are called cenobia. This alone, then, was the most ancient kind of monks (antiquissimum monachorum genus), which is first not only in time but also in grace (non solum tempore, sed etiam gratia primum), and which remained inviolable throughout the years, up until the era of Abba Paul and Abba Antony. We see that remnants (uestigia) of it endure even now in strict cenobia.”41

Those “memores” 42 are now explicitly identified as cenobites. The identification is not evident, though. The emphasis is placed first on the rupture with former life (marriage, family, world) that leads them to very strict “individual and solitary lives.” The jump from the solitary life to the common one is not made clear; or they are solitaries that stand in some kind of communion. This tension emerges in both names given to them. Because they are “separated” (segregati; secernerent) they are called monazȠntes or in a Latinized way, monachi. 43 To some extent contradictory as stated, they live a solitary life but in a common fellowship, reality that is expressed by the other Greek name: “coenobiotae,” i.e. those who lead a common life. We are informed that they live in special dwellings called cenobia. Cassian’s explanation of the emergence and development of monastic life out of the apostolic community presents a theological stance, although with no historical basis. In this context, De Vogüé has claimed: “[s]on récit n'est pas autre chose qu'un mythe.”44 He also points out, how Cassian, by introducing this strange connection to the origins of Christianity, is in the meantime explicitly avoiding any mention of whom is considered to be 41

Conf. 18. 5.4. DE Vogüé, “Monachisme et église,” p. 220: “Le monachisme pense Cassien, est une protestation contre l‫ތ‬affadissement du christianisme.” 43 Cassian like the Itinerarium Egeriae 24 identifies ȝȠȞĮȗȩȞIJİȢ with monachi. Cf. A. Guillaumont, “Monachisme et éthique judéo-chrétienne,” in Judéochristianisme: Recherches historiques et théologiques offertes en hommage au Cardinal Jean Daniélou, Paris 1972: Recherches de science religieuse. 44 DE Vogüé, “Monachisme et église,” p. 218. 42

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the actual founder of cenobitic monasticism, Pachomius, and replacing him with other origins.45 In this context, the text qualifies them highly, as being the first in time and in grace. This, as similar expressions, is in tension with Cassian‫ތ‬s clear preference of anchoritic life. For instance, in the same Conf. 18, Piamun tells Germanus and Cassian at the end of our section: “Therefore, since I see that you have learned the principles of this profession from the best kind of monks–that is, from the praiseworthy school of the cenobia–and that you are heading toward the highest reaches of anchorite discipline, toward the virtue of humility and patience…”46

Very often, Cassian makes this superiority very clear.47 “As the solitary life is great and more sublime than that of the cenobia, and the contemplation of God – upon which those inestimable men were ever intent – than the active life that is led in communities…”48

In Cassian’s presentation of the cenobites a term is introduced: the time of Paul and Antony. Later we will see why. In any case, this way of life persists in some cenobia (only in the strict ones). Implicit appears here a criticism to contemporary cenobitic life, by stating that that original cenobitic life are at his time only uestigia. After this long preparation, Piamun has finally introduced the first kind of monks, the cenobites, and is ready for the second one. “From this number of the perfect, from what I would call this most fruitful root of holy persons, the flowers and fruit of the anchorites (fecundissima radice sanctorum etiam anachoretarum) sprouted forth afterwards. We know from the existence of the leaders of this profession (professionis principes), whom we mentioned shortly before – namely, the holy Paul and 45

DE Vogüé, “Monachisme et église,” pp. 217-18: “D'après les textes pacômiens, Pacôme est le seul fondateur des cenobia d‫ތ‬Egypte. Avant lui, la vie cénobitique n'existait pas. Cassien ne pouvait ignorer Pacôme et le rôle de fondateur qui lui était reconnu en Egypte. Mais cette origine lui paraissait trop récente et trop obscure pour la tradition monastique qu'il voulait recommander aux moines gaulois. Aussi n‫ތ‬a-t-il pas hésité à transférer aux pères apostoliques un trait de la légende pacômienne. Pas une seule fois, d‫ތ‬ailleurs, les Institutions et les Conférences ne mentionnent Pacôme. L‫ތ‬escamotage est total.” 46 Conf. 18.11.1. 47 DE Vogüé, “Monachisme et église,” p. 238: “La préférence de Cassien pour l‫ތ‬érémitisme est un fait bien connu, encore que les exégètes modernes aient communément tendance à le sous-estimer.” 48 Conf. Preface to the first part, 4.

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Antony.”49

In this introduction, origin and leaders of this monastic way are presented. The historical emergence of the anchorites out of the cenobitic life, present in this paragraph, has been called into question, especially by de Vogüé. As in 5, 4, both initiators of this way of life are mentioned, this time qualified as “holy.” In any case, even graphically, anchoritic life is portrayed as the fruit and the flower of monastic life. Already here we find the tension with Cassian‫ތ‬s affirmation on the primacy in grace of cenobitic life. In his general presentations of the different monastic “professions,”50 Piamun, who belonged to it 51 , had characterized it in its developing process in the life of the anchorites. They led first a cenobitic life and only afterwards, well trained, they could go into the desert. 52 Back to the chapter 6, the abba expands what he had stated before, in explaining how the passage from one life to the other takes place: “They sought out the recesses (sectati sunt) of the desert not, indeed, because of faintheartedness or an unhealthy impatience but from a desire for higher progress and divine contemplation (sublimiori profectus contemplationisque), although the former of them is said to have penetrated the desert out of need, in order to escape the snares of his relatives during a time of persecution.”53

The process of separation, which already took place at the beginning of cenobitic life and continued to deepen, increases in this second kind of life even more. The anchorites do not go to rural zones (as it was affirmed from the cenobites) but to the desert. The reasons for such a flight are positively presented. The motive for leaving the cenobium and going into the deep desert is progress and/in contemplation. In other words, progress sought in the solitude seems to be a more profound contemplation of God. However, in the following paragraph another reason for changing 49

Conf. 18. 6.1. Cassian had already spoken of these different professions in Inst. 5.4.3: “Although our religion has one end, there are nonetheless different professions by which to go to God, as will be more fully discussed in the conferences of the elders.” 51 Conf. 18. 8.2. 52 Cf. Conf. 18. 4.2: “The greatest number of monks dwelling throughout Egypt are of this kind. The second is that of the anchorites (anachoretarum), who are first instructed in the cenobia and then, perfected in their practical way of live; choose the recesses of the desert.” 53 Conf. 18. 6.1. 50

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professions is provided or added. It is not only contemplation (not mentioned here), which leads the monk into the desert, into separating from the rest of the community, but the desire of a singular combat with the demons. “In this way, then, another kind of perfection came out of the discipline that we have spoken of. Its followers (sectatores) are deservedly called anchorites (anachoretae),54 that is, those who go apart (id est secessores merito nuncupantur)– because they are not at all content with the victory of treading underfoot the hidden snares of the devil in the midst of men (inter homines). They desire to engage the demons in an open struggle and in out-and-out combat (aperto certamine ac manifesto conflictu), and they are not afraid to penetrate the vast recesses of the desert (uastos heremi recessus) in imitation of John the Baptist, who spent his whole life in the desert and of Elijah and Elisha…”55

While the name of cenobites pointed out the communal character of their life, the anchorites characterize themselves exactly by the opposite. They have left that community and penetrated the desert, in order to continue the combat, already undertaken by the cenobites, now deprived from human assistance in their fight, but only with God's assistance. In doing so, Piamun goes on, they continue a biblical tradition. In this context, biblical characters are brought forward. They would become the predecessors, inspirers and prototypes of anchoritic life. First of all, the Baptist, but also Elijah and his disciple Elisha. In addition to this, passages referring to the dessert or to solitary life are collected from the book of Job, the prophet Jeremiah, and the Psalms. As the abba has done before in referring to the famous passages of the Acts of the Apostles for cenobitic life, he underpins now the anchoritic life with some other biblical examples. In doing so, he closes his presentation of the second profession and moves on in the next paragraph to the third kind, qualified as deterrimum et infidele. Also, here he provides a biblical basis, also extracted from the early community in Jerusalem and the book of the Acts of the Apostles: the couple of Ananias and Sapphira. “And as the Christian religion was rejoicing in these two professions of the monks, although the latter class had also begun to deteriorate gradually, they appeared thereafter the worst (deterrimum et infidele) kind of monks, who are faithless. Or rather that harmful plant took new life, which, when it was sprouting at the beginning of the Church under Ananias and 54

On the pagan and early Christian usage of ĮȞĮȤȦȡİȚȞ, see A.-J. Festugière, Personal Religion among the Greeks, Berkeley-Los Angeles 1954. 55 Conf. 18. 6.2.

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Sapphira, was cut down by the severity of the apostle Peter. Among the monks, this has been considered detestable and abominable (detestabilis execrandaque), and it has not been practiced by anyone ever since…”56

Unlike the cenobites, who were –to some extent– in direct connexion with the apostolic times and the anchorites, who start with Paul and Antony, the origin of the still unnamed third profession can be conducted only indirectly to some leaders, since it was discontinued (succisa est) also in that early time. The same is expressed below, but adding now how this error came again to life: “When this example, which was punished with apostolic vigor in Ananias and Sapphira, had gradually faded from the thought of some, due to long neglect and to the forgetfulness that comes with time, there emerged the kind known as sarabaites. They are rightly called sarabaites in the Egyptian language because they withdrew themselves from the communities of the cenobia and as individuals cared for their own needs. They came from the number of those whom we have already spoken about…”57

Again here, Piamun brings the dynamics of forgetting-remember to the fore. While in 5.2 the monks were those who were mindful of the earlier perfection, oblivion (temporis oblitteratione subtracto) occurs regarding the crime of the couple and the following apostolic punishment. In this context the third group emerges, which is now designed no longer with Greek terminology but with an Egyptian name. 58 This is explained as meaning the withdrawal from the community (a coenobiorum congregationibus sequestrarent). This is, however, exactly what the anchorites, the second group, were. Another element is added though: "and as individuals cared for their own needs" (ac singillalim suas curarent necessitates), which in itself is not negative, since the same anchorites would have needed to take care of their necessities. The detailed negative portray comes, however, in the following paragraph. “These, then, while faint-heartedly affecting the highest virtue, have been compelled to come to this profession out of necessity, being eager to be accounted merely as bearing the name of monks without making any effort to imitate them. In no way do they long for the discipline of the cenobia (coenobiorum nulla tenus expetunt disciplinam). They do not submit to the judgment of the elders (nec seniorum subduntur arbitrio), nor are the formed in their traditions and they do not learn to conquer their own wills; 56

Conf. 18. 7.1. Conf. 18. 7.2. 58 Cassian ist the earliest source in Christian literature for the use of this term. 57

42

Egyptian Monasticism in Southern France neither do they accept, as a result of some prescribed training, any rule of sound discretion (aut eorum traditionibus instituti suas discunt uincere uoluntates nec ullam sanae discretionis regulam legitima eruditione suscipiunt). Instead they only make a public renunciation – that is, in the sight of men – and either remain in their dwellings, bound to the same occupations, thanks to the privilege of this name, or build themselves cells and call them monasteries (monasteria), living in them at liberty under their own law (suo iure) and never obeying the gospel precepts.”59

The emphasis is placed on spurious motives and the liberty of these “monks.” First the text alludes to “necessity” being at the origin of this option. Piamun had stated the same before for the Syrian monks coming to Egypt but also to abba Paul. In any case, the text undermines the freedom of such a decision. Another reason is the prestige that monks had. This third category desires this prestige, however with no submission or discipline to elder, rule or even the evangelical precepts. On the contrary, they are totally free, in Piamun‫ތ‬s view, to do whatever they want and continue their formal life. Finally, the text had pointed out to two ways of realizing this third kind of monasticism. After making a public renunciation (we do not know, how this would be, where, in front of whom, etc.), either they continue the same life, or they construct their own monasteries and call them so. “Those who, however, as we have said, leave the strictness of the cenobium and live in cells by twos and threes, not content to be governed by the care and judgment of an abba (non contenti abbatis cura atque imperio gubernari), but rather being especially concerned to be loosed from the yoke of the elders (a seniorum iugo) and to be free to exercise their own wills (excercendi uoluntates suas in eis ac libertate), to go wherever they please and to wander (euagandi) about and act as it suits them…”60

Obedience to the abba and to the elders is opposed to the exercise of the free will and, in this context, wandering about. This reference to wandering (euagandi) is relevant since Benedict will design not the third but his fourth kind of monks as girovagum. Finally, Piamun reveals the expansion of these monks, by stating that in some provinces “the third kind, the Sarabaites, abounds and exists almost by itself,”61 outnumbering

59

Conf. 18. 7.3. Conf. 18. 7.3. 61 Conf. 18. 7.8: “These two kinds of monks, nearly equal in numbers, rival one another in the province. But in other provinces, which the requirements of the 60

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the first two classes. However, as we saw before, Piamun is speaking in this conference to Gallic monks. Cassian's principal complaint about the Sarabaites is their failure to follow the traditions of the fathers. He makes the same complaint about Gallic monks. Early in the Institutes Cassian bemoans abbots who, either from ignorance or pride, have introduced traditions contrary to those of the fathers. Just as it was necessary for Germanus to forget what he had learned in Syria and adopt the institutes of the Egyptians, so also the reader needs to abandon the corrupt practices he had learned in Gaul. Cassian's condemnation of the Sarabites reinforces his oft-repeated call for cenobite discipline founded on humility and on obedience to the tradition of the Egyptian abbas.62 Although the abba had spoken in his brief presentation of only three kinds, after introducing all three, he surprisingly comes up with a fourth one. There is fact a fourth kind as well, which we see has appeared recently among those who fancy themselves in the style and likeness of anchorites and who seem, when they are starting out, too long for the perfection of cenobium with a sort of short-lived fervor. However, all at once they grow lukewarm, contemning the curtailment of their earlier behaviour and vices, not content with bearing the yoke of humility and patience any longer and disdaining to place themselves under the rule of the elders (subdique seniorum imperio). They long for separate cells and want to live by themselves (ac solitarie sedere), so that they may be irritated by no one and may be considered patient, mild, and humble by men… For in this way their voices are not only not cut off but even grow worse, since they are challenged by no one…Virtues, however, are begotten not by hiding one's vices (occultatione uitiorum) but by fighting (expugnatione) them.63 The monks of the fourth kind, like those in the third one, pretend to be holy, and refuse to submit to any authority. Unlike that class, they have actually lived in a cenobium, bur for a short time. Faced to the challenges and difficulties of communal life, they fall into the illusion that a separate milieu will make them progress in monastic life. Leaving the cenobia too soon, without a proper training of communal life, they run after praise, without being challenged, however, by anybody. Basil would use this argument to argue his preference for communal life and the challenges it Catholic faith have obliged me to travel though, we know that the third kind, the sarabaites, abounds and exists almost by itself.” 62 D. Driver, John Cassian and the Reading of Egyptian Monastic Culture, London 2002, p. 99. 63 Conf. 18. 8.1-2.

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poses to progress in monastic life.64 In other words, it is the difficult living amidst a community, which makes the monk progress in his way, especially in humility, regarded by the monastic tradition as the key virtue of the monk. Our section closes when Piamun answers Germanus‫ތ‬ question regarding the distinction between monastery and cenobium.65

2. Conference 19 This conference brings another elder, John, who seems to be an exceptional case since he went in both ways: not only the traditional flight from the cenobium to the desert, but after many years the return to communal life. Indeed, he “left the desert and with the most virtuous humility submitted himself to this cenobium.”66 This strange path intrigues Germanus and Cassian, who ask him: Why he had left the freedom of the desert (heremi libertate) and that sublime profession (et illa professione sublimi), wherein a very celebrated reputation had given him precedence over other leading the same life, and chose to place himself under the yoke of the cenobium (sub coenobii iugum).67 The mere question reveals the pre-eminence of anchoritic life over the cenobite one. The first is connected to freedom, while the second one with a yoke. In addition, John was not only an anchorite, but also a very famous one. The answer of John confirms the character of the question and states that indeed anchoritic life brings to the “heights of perfection”, while the cenobium is rather a “school for juniors” (iuniorum scolas). In his own account, John reveals Germanus and Cassian his curriculum vitae, having passed thirty years in the cenobitic life and afterwards twenty in the desert,68 where he was frequently seized by ecstasies and he could say: “My mind was so filled with divine meditation and spiritual theoria (diuinis meditadionibus ac spiritalibus theoriis animus replebatur).”69

In this context, John proposes for first time the distinction between the end of the desert and the one of the cenobium (de solitundinis atque

64

BASIL, Reg. fus. tract. 7. Conf. 18. 10. 66 Conf. 19. 1.1. 67 Conf. 19. 2.3. 68 Conf. 19. 3.1. 69 Conf. 19. 4.1. 65

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45

coeenobii fine), and this in order to explain why he left the former for the latter.70 In his explanation, he argues that the prior freedom of the desert, that attracts the monks, had now disappeared. The reason of this is the increase of monastic population in the desert. In other words, the desert is no longer a desert and with this new situation the contemplation, which in the previous catechesis71 was the reason that led the monks into solitary life, has become difficult. Practical reasons explain this change, as he later explains; issues such as nourishment or hospitality overwhelmed the solitaries in such a way that contemplation of God suffered. “But when, as I have said, a greater number of brothers began to long to dwell in that desert and, having cramped the freedom of the vast desert, not only caused the fire of divine contemplation to chill (ignem illum diuinae contemplationis frigere fecisset) but even tied down my mind in many ways with the fetters of carnal matters.”72

In this state of affairs, John opted for an unusual turn, deciding to be saved by the anchor of obedience. Since contemplation and the heights of theoria have become very difficult in the new situation, he decided to lose them to some extent, in making it up by an obedient submission (hac oboedientiae subiectione pensetur)73. Due to his extraordinary experience, John is particularly qualified to provide views on both forms of monastic life, their advantages and risks, as well as their proper goals. Among the advantages of cenobitic life John lists the lack of concern for bodily matters such as preparing food74. In addition to this, as already suggested, the “spiritual theoria” was hampered by the problem of frequent visits of brothers and the required hospitality. In this way, “the freedom of the anchorite (is) tied down.”75 “Finally, even if I should suffer some loss of purity of heart while I am in the cenobium, I shall happily be compensated by the gospel precept alone, which certainly cannot be subordinated to any of the other fruits of the desert, so that I need have no thought for the next day. And, subject to an abba until death (usque ad finem subiectus abbati), I shall seem to a certain

70

Conf. 19. 4.3. Conf. 18. 6.1. 72 Conf. 19. 5.2. 73 Conf. 19. 5.2. 74 On monastic diet, see Conf. 8.1. 75 Conf. 19. 6.5. 71

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Egyptian Monasticism in Southern France degree to imitate (aemulari) him of whom is said: 'He humbled himself, having become obedient until death.”76

It is obedience, which configures the monk with Christ, the Obedient par excellence. John‫ތ‬s decision is completely at odds with the expectations of Cassian's audience, for it overturns the popular equation of solitude with freedom from worldly care. Instead, Cassian's reader is confronted with a venerable abba who argues that such freedom can be found only within the confines of the coenobium. Paradoxically, it is among the brethren that one finds the conditions necessary for solitude. Robert Markus has recently noted this juxtaposition and argued that 'in the course of thee two Conferences (XVIII and XIX) Cassian has come to abandon, subtly but decisively, the equation of the communal with the practical and the solitary with the contemplative life‫ ތ‬This is a valid assessment of Cassian's argument, for in these Conferences Cassian emphasizes how the world impinges upon the hermitage and how the coenobium provides freedom from distraction. This emphasis, however, is not new to Cassian's last set of Conferences. It is instead a theme that recurs throughout his monastic literature.77 When John, has ended his argument for the unusual decision he took, Germanus will go back to something the abba had mentioned before by asking him: “what the end of the cenobite is and what the end of the hermit is.” 78 John‫ތ‬s answer begins by claiming that “one and the same person could not be perfect in both professions,”79 in later nuancing this by saying that this perfection is “attained to very rarely and by very few people”,80 and eventually excluding from this general affirmation, Abba Moses, Abba Paphnutius and the two Macarii.81 After having stated this, John proceeds to answer Germanus' question in explaining which the two ends are. The end of the cenobite is to put to death and to crucify all his desires (omnes suas mortificare et crucifigere uoluntates) and, in accordance with the saving command of gospel perfection, to have no thought for the next

76

Conf. 19. 6.6. Driver, John Cassian, p. 100. 78 Conf. 19. 7.1. 79 Conf. 19. 8.1. 80 Conf. 19. 8.2. 81 Conf. 19. 9.1. 77

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day. It is very certain that this perfection cannot be arrived by anyone but a cenobite.82 Again here, the abba refers to two aspects of this perfection, as he already did in 6.6, obedience–implicit in the abandonment of the own will–and the lack of concern for the future (also here designed as Gospel [the Our Father] precept). In both regards, John makes clear that the anchorite is not in a situation to fulfill them. After supporting this claim with a quotation from Isaiah 58, he comes to the perfection of the hermit, which, in its turn, is backed by passages of Jeremiah and Psalm 102: “[T]he perfection of the hermit is to have a mind bare of all earthly things (exutam mentem a cunctis habere terrenis) and, as much as human frailty permits, to unite it thus with Christ (unire cum Christo).”83

Actually, of the two elements presented here, the first (an oblivion of everything in this life) seems to be the necessary means for attaining the second, the union with Christ. Having identified both ends, he concludes again the relevance of having a precise knowledge of them. To some extent, it closes the circle begun by Piamun, regarding also the necessity to know the discipline of the art someone undertakes.84 John follows, “Unless each of them arrives at the end, therefore, which we have said belongs to his own profession; in vain does the one pursue the discipline of the cenobium and the other that of the anchorite life, for neither has practiced the virtue of his own profession.”85

Each way of life has an own end and an own virtue. This is why, it is difficult to find someone who is completely accomplished in both professions because the anchorite cannot wholly attain to ਕțIJȘȝȠı઄ȞȘ – that is, to the contempt and privation of material things – nor can the cenobite wholly attain to the purity of theoria (theoreticam ad integrum adsequi puritatem).86

82

Conf. 19. 8.3. Conf. 19. 8.4. 84 Conf. 18. 3.1: “Therefore, if, as we believe, concern for God has drawn you to seek after our knowledge, you must completely renounce (abdicate) all the institutes that accompanied your first beginnings in the former place and follow with great humility whatever you see our elders do or teach.” 85 Conf. 19. 8.4. 86 Conf. 19. 9.1. 83

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Discernment, despite of not being explicitly mentioned here, is key. For anchorites, previous well-grounded and hard training is fully necessary. Otherwise, the entire monastic way would come to a disaster. This is usually the case in particular with those who have not been instructed perfectly in the cenobia and have not purified themselves of their former vices but have betaken themselves to the solitary life out of an immature desire.87

3. Reception in Western Monastic Rules As already stated much of Cassian's afterlife is due to his reception in later monastic rules, especially the Regula Magistri and the Regula Benedicti. At the end of the latter, among the sources for monastic perfection, Benedict explicitly mentions: “Necnon et Collationes Patrum et Instituta,”88 revealing in the meantime what a deep influence did Cassian exert in the formation of Benedictine monasticism and, through it, in the entire Western spirituality. In our particular case, Cassian's presentation of the different kinds of monastic experience, the reception is striking, as the table at the end of this paper shows, where both Rules are placed in parallel, and the text of the Regula Magistri taken over by the Regula Benedicti is written in italics.

Conclusion We cannot understand the evolution of (not only Western) monasticism without reference to the work of John Cassian. By mediating the mature Eastern monastic experience to the West, he had assisted in shaping the development of monasticism first in Gaul, then in Italy, and then throughout Europe and the world. In proposing the Egyptian model as the standard one, in times in which it had already disappeared, Cassian is not neutral at all. He is addressing those speeches that, at least in their basics, took place twenty years before, and the doctrine in them to a new audience. This is required, first of all, to accept the testimony of an eyewitness of that supreme monastic perfection, and afterwards follow the rules and “institutes” that the Egyptian abbas propose. Cassian's project was extremely successful, and generations saw in his works an objective testimony of Egyptian monasticism and its spiritual heights.

87 88

Conf. 19. 10.1. Regula Benedicti, 73.5.

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A more attentive reading and checking with other sources pose numerous questions about the validity of Cassian‫ތ‬s historical presentation 89 and its value. Without doubt, his doctrine and theology reveal unparalleled depth. However, are these actually facts as he presented them? Le résultat en est une doctrine, aussi irréductible à chacune des sources dont elle s’inspire que ne l’est le miel à chacune des fleurs dont il est fait … En réaction contre l’effervescence d’un monachisme latin assez peu organisé, sans traditions solides et trop sensible au ‘merveilleux’ (ces mirabilia Die dont il se refuse de parler), Cassien a reçu pour mission d’insuffler un esprit authentiquement monastique aux nouveaux groupements qui viennent de se constituer en Provence … La meilleure façon de donner du poids à son enseignement n’était-elle pas de le mettre dans la bouche des plus célèbres parmi les moines d’Égypte ?90

In our case, it is difficult to accept his portray of the emergence of monasticism connected with the early community in Jerusalem. His silences are also blatant regarding key figures of Egyptian monasticism such as Pachomius and, especially, Evagrius. It is there, as in many other passages, where we begin discovering an intention, an agenda that flows beneath all those wonderful expositions. In many regards, Cassian is constructing a history of Egyptian monasticism, 91 using it as validating authority, and proposing it as “the” model for Gaul (and the West). All this, however, does not minimize the stellar role of John Cassian in the development of monasticism, included his systematization of the different kinds of monks.

89

Guy, “Jean Cassien,” p. 371: “En réalité, en mettant en garde contre une trop facile crédulité à l‫ތ‬égard de Cassien historien…” 90 Guy, “Jean Cassien,” p. 372. 91 J. Leroy, “Les préfaces des écrists monastiques de J. Cassien,” Revue dҲascetique et de mystique 42 (1966), pp. 159–60: “More than as an historian, Cassian acted as an architect who choses and adapts his materials, that means even if his encounters are not rigorously historical, he has used without doubt authentic reflections.”

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Egyptian Monasticism in Southern France

REGULA MAGISTRI I. DE GENERIBUS VEL POTVS VEL ACTVS ET VITA MONACHORUM IN COENOBIIS Monachorum quatuor esse genera manifestum est: Primum coenobitarum, hoc est, monasteriale, militans sub regula vel abbate. Deinde secundum genus est anachoritarum, id est, heremitarum; horum qui non conversionis fervore nouicio, sed monasterii probatione diuturna, qui didicerunt contra diabolum multorum solacio iam docti pugnare, et bene instructi fraterna ex acie ad singularem pugnam heremi, securi iam sine consolatione alterius, sola manu, uel brachio contra uitia carnis uel cogitationum cum Deo et spiritu repugnare sufficiunt. Tertium vero monachorum deterrimum genus est sarabaitarum, quod melius adhuc laicum dixissem; si me propositi sancti non impediret tunsura. Qui nulla regula approbati et experientia magistro sicut aurum fornacis, sed in plumbi natura molliti, adhuc factis seruantes saeculo fidem, mentiri Deo per tunsuram noscuntur. Qui bini aut terni aut certe singuli, sine pastore non dominicis, sed suis inclusi ouilibus, pro lege eis est desideriorum uoluntas, cum quidquid putauerint uel elegerint, hoc dicunt sanctum, et quod noluerint, hoc putant non licere: et dum in proprio arbitrio quaerunt habere cellas, arcellas et recellas, ignorant quia perdunt suas animellas.

Simul et ii, qui nuper conuersi immoderato fervore heremum putant esse quietem, et non putantes insidiari et nocere diabolum, singularem cum eo pugnam indocti et securi inuadunt, sine dubio inducti lupi faucibus occursuri. Quartum uero genus est monachorum nec nominandum, quod melius tacerem quam de talibus aliquid dicerem, quod genus nominatur gyrouagum: qui tota uita sua per diuersas prouincias ternis aut quaternis diebus per diuersorum cellas et monasteria hospitantes; cum pro hospitis aduentu a diversis volunt cottidie noviter suscipi, et pro gaudio superuenientis exquisita sibi pulmentaria adparari, et animantia pullorum sibi creant quotidie a diuersis hospitibus pro adventu cultello occidi, grauare se ita diuersos non credunt, commutando cottidie hospites pro aduentu nouitatis sub inportuna charitate diuersos conant sibi praeparare diuersa. Et uelut ab inuito a diuersis hospitibus exigentes praeceptum apostoli, in quo dicit: Hospitalitatem sectantes, per occasionem praecepti, cum inquietos sibi pedes post uiam fomentari expostulant, per occasionem itineris intestinas suas latiori coena uel prandio inquinatas infinitis poculis magis quam pedes desiderent. Et post exinanitam a famelico hospite mensam, et miculas ipsas panis post uiam detersas sitim suam sine uerecundia hospiti ingerentes, si calix hostasus defuerit, rogatur hospis in ipsa patella ut misceat. Et postquam ex utraque parte nimietate cibi et potus

P. Argárate percalcati usque ad uomitum fuerint, totum laboriosae uiae inputant, quod gula lucrauit.92 REGULA BENEDICTI I. DE GENERIBUS MONACHORUM Monachorum quattuor esse genera, manifestum est. Primum coenobitarum, hoc est monasteriale, militans sub regula vel abbate 93. Deinde secundum genus est anachoritarum, id est heremitarum, horum qui non conversationis fervore novicio, sed monasterii probatione diuturna, qui didicerunt contra diabulum multorum solacio iam docti pugnare, et bene extructi fraterna ex acie ad singularem pugnam heremi, securi iam sine consolatione alterius, sola manu vel brachio contra vitia carnis vel cogitationum, Deo auxiliante, pugnare sufficiunt 94.

sanctum, et quod noluerint, hoc putant non licere 95. Quartum vero genus est monachorum quod nominatur girovagum, qui tota vita sua per diversas provincias ternis aut quaternis diebus per diversorum cellas hospitantur, semper uagi et numquam stabiles, et propriis uoluntatibus et guilæ inlecebris seruientes, et per omnia deteriores sarabaitis 96. De quorum omnium horum miserrima conuersatione melius est silere quam loqui. His ergo omissis, ad coenobitarum fortissimum genus disponendum, adiuuante Domino, ueniamus97

Tertium vero monachorum taeterrimum genus est sarabaitarum, qui nulla regula adprobati, experienta magistra, sicut avrum fornacis, sed in plumbi natura molliti, adhuc operibus servantes sæculo fidem, mentiri Deo per tonsuram noscuntur. Qui bini aut terni aut certe singuli sine pastore, non dominicis sed suis inclusi ovilibus, pro lege eis est desideriorum voluntas, cum quidquid putaverint vel elegerint, hoc dicunt 92

Regula Magistri, text and trans. A. De Vogüé, Paris 1964, Vol. I, pp. 1–55. 93 Regula Benedicti, I. 1-2. 94 Regula Benedicti, I. 3-5.

51

95

Regula Benedicti, I. 6-9. Regula Benedicti, I. 10-11. 97 Regula Benedicti, I. 12-13. 96

MONASTIC EGYPT BY THE END OF THE FOURTH CENTURY: AN INTRODUCTION TO THE HISTORIA LAUSIACA P. ARGÁRATE UNIVERSITY OF GRAZ, AUSTRIA

I. Introduction Along the anonymous Historia monachorum in Aegypto, the Historia Lausiaca1 constitutes the chief source for early Egyptian monastic history. Its author, Palladius, was born in Galatia in 363 AD and in 388 AD became monk in Palestina, moving then to Egypt. Indeed, in 390 he was in Nitra and then transferred to Cells, where he remained until 399 AD, having to return to Alexandria and then to Palestina due to health issue. The following year he was ordained bishop of Helenopolis in Bithynia. At the Synod of the Oak in 403 AD he was accused of Origenism and, after the fall of his friend Chrysostom, he went to Rome in 405 AD to defend the cause of the bishop of Constantinople. At his return, he was arrested and exiled to Egypt, to return to Asia Minor only in 412 AD, being later transferred as bishop of Apuna. He died before the third ecumenical council of 431 AD. Along the Historia, he wrote the Dialogus de vita s. Johannis Chrysostomi,2 an important source for the life of the saint, and perhaps the first part of De gentibus Indiae et Bragmanibus.

1

Palladius, The Lausiac History, translated and annotated by Robert T. Meyer. Westminster, Md.: Newman Press; London: Longmans, Green 1965. On the Historia Lausiaca, see Klaus Nickau, “Eine Historia Lausiaca ohne Lausos. Überlegungen zur Hypothese von René Draguet über den Ursprung der Historia Lausiaca,޵ Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum 5.1 (2000), pp. 131–39; C. Bammel, “Problems of the Historia Monachorum,޵ The Journal of Theological Studies 47 (1996), pp. 92–104; Adalbert de Vogüe, “Palladiana,޵ Studia Monastica 34 (1992), pp. 217 ff.

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Monastic Egypt by the End of the Fourth Century

The Historia Lausiaca was composed in 419-420 AD. As its sources are to be named the Vita Antonii, explicitly mentioned, the Historia monachorum, with which our Historia has much in common. Indeed, from the 26 chapters of the Historia monachorum, John of Lycopolis, Paphnutius, Eulogius, Isidor, Sarapion, both Macarius and Paul have their own chapters in our Historia. In addition to this, some parallels are to be found in John Cassian as well as in the Apophthegmata. The immense popularity of our work makes it extremely difficult to establish the original Greek text3. Indeed, it was copied and re-copied in Greek, with additions and interpolations, as well as translated into Latin and into the main Oriental languages, such as Coptic, Syriac, Ethiopic, Armenian, Arabic, among others. Cuthbert Butler established a sort of editio princeps in 1898-1904, stating that of the two main recensions, the longer (B) and the shorter (G), it is the latter, which is to be considered the earliest version. This one is composed of 71 short accounts, preceded by an introduction in three pieces, the foreword, which perhaps was not written by Palladius, the (cover) letter sent to Lausus with the Historia and a prologue. If we compare this work with the Historia monachorum and even with Cassian’s Institutiones and Collationes, much material is common. Like all these works, the author has known Egyptian monasticism by a manyyear experience. He has travelled the vast country, spoken to the main monastic characters of that time, and even been a disciple of one of the most influential of them, Evagrius. As Cassian, he left before the collapse of Egyptian monasticism; as him, in putting his experience in writing, he is now referring to a no longer existing reality. Nevertheless, there are striking differences as well. Palladius does not limit himself to Egypt but includes in his work ascetics also from Palestine as well as from Asia Minor. Even more significant is the important presence of female ascetics,4 obeying Lausus’ explicit request. Out of 71 2 Paul Devos, Approches de Pallade à travers le “Dialogue sur Chrysostome” et l'histoire Lausiaque,޵ Analecta Bollandiana 107 (1989), pp. 243–66. 3 Cf. W. Bousset, “Zur Komposition der Historia Lausiaca,޵ Zeitschrift für die Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der Älteren Kirche 21 (1922), pp. 81– 98. 4 Cf. C. T. Schroeder, “Women in Anchoritic and Semi-anchoritic Monasticism in Egypt: Rethinking the Landscape,޵ Church History 83 (2014), pp. 1 ff.; E. A. Clark, “Holy Women, Holy Words: Early Christian Women, Social History, and the 'Linguistic Turn,޵ Journal of Early Christian Studies 6 (1998), pp. 413 ff.; A. Jensen, “Frauen in der Asketengeschichte “Das Paradies” von Palladios (Historia Lausiaca),޵ in Jakobus Kaffanke (ed.) “...weil sie mehr liebte.” Frauen im frühen

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stories,5 17 are dedicated to virgins and nuns, some carrying out a holy life, while some others share the same problems as monks, mainly the temptation of pride. One of Palladius’ main sources, Melania the Elder, receives even two chapters (46 and 54).

II. Historia Lausiaca A. Palladius’ Experience From the very outset, Palladius introduces himself, as also the unknown author of the Historia monachorum in Aegypto and John Cassian do, as (eye) witness of the accounts that will follow. “I decided then, O man most fond of learning, to set forth for you an account of my entire experience” (…) “Now you wanted stories of the fathers, of both male and female anchorites, those I had seen and others I had heard about, and of those I had lived within the Egyptian desert and Libya, in the Thebaid and Syene. Then, there are the Tabennesiotes, and those in Mesopotamia, Palestine, and Syria, and, in the West, those in Rome and Campania and points nearby” (Prol., 2).

Palladius claims, indeed, to produce a comprehensive presentation of monasticism. “Now I begin my narrative. I shall leave unmentioned no one in the cities, or in the villages, or in the desert. For we are concerned not with the place where they settled, but rather it is their way of life that we seek” (Prol., 16)

B. Monastic Diversity Monastic experience was, already at that time, extremely broad. Along with young, although not too young, monks we have a number of elderly ascetics living a life of extreme renunciation. Entrance into monastic life, mainly due to its hardship, cannot be undertaken in old age, as Antony makes clear to Paul the Simple or even Pachomius to Macarius, who, already an experienced and famous monk, pretends to start monastic life. Mönchtum; Tagungsberichte der Beuroner Tage für Spiritualität und Mystik-2002. Beuron: Beuroner Kunstverlag 2002, pp. 37–54; A. L. Fisher, “Women and Gender in Palladius' Lausiac History,޵ Studia monastica 33 (1991), pp. 1, 23 ff. 5 C. Rapp, “Storytelling as Spiritual Communication in Early Greek Hagiography: The Use of Diegesis,޵ Journal of Early Christian Studies 6 (1998), pp. 431–48.

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Monastic Egypt by the End of the Fourth Century

Diversity is very patent also in the geographical 6 as well as in the cultural provenience of the monks. Besides an “Egyptian” majority, Alexandrian (who are not considered Egyptian) monks come along with Libyan ones. An important number of ascetics seems to proceed from Palestine, as Cassian and Palladius themselves did. Some conflicts between these Palestinian monks, who came from there but not necessarily were Palestinian (as the referred authors were not), and the Egyptian ones seem to appear, as witnessed in the Collationes but also in our Historia. In addition to these groups, there are also “Greek” monks, coming from Asia Minor or Constantinople, as the case of the famous Evagrius shows. Western monks and especially pilgrims are also present in these accounts. Topographic diversity is referred to in the Historia as well. Palladius starts his Egyptian experience close to Alexandria and then moves to the desert, visiting different monastic centres. Diversity is also represented in the different professions that ascetics carried out before entering monastic life but also afterwards. The list is very vast, from murderers, thieves, passing through housemen, herdsmen, actors, businessmen, nobles, to churchmen. Indeed, we have the example of the learned deacon Evagrius, who had to leave overnight Constantinople due to a love affair and eventually became one of the greatest teachers of the desert. While some other monks were considered worthy of the priesthood in order to serve their brethren, some others were later ordained bishop, as was the case with Palladius himself. However, most of them staunchly resisted any kind of ordination or ecclesiastical honour. While the vast majority were peasants, learned monks, as already stated, were not absent. Here we have the case not only of Evagrius, but also of Ammonius, Sarapion, and Jerome in Palestine. Furthermore, continuous presence of international pilgrims required the service of interpreters. Translation was commonly between Coptic and Greek, as shows the case of Cronius, who served as an interpreter of Antony, but also into Latin language for Western pilgrims, and Syriac. Our Historia also provides reference to the political framework, mainly referring to different emperors, but also governors and other leaders. In addition to these, leading monastic characters come in its pages. Among them, some are very well known to us such as Antony, Pachomius, John of

6

A. Jotischky, “Monastic Reform and the Geography of Christendom: Experience, Observation and Influence,޵ Royal Historical Society. Transactions of the Royal Historical Society 22 (2012), pp. 57–74.

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Lycopolis, Paul the Simple, Evagrius, Melania, the Elder 7 and the Younger, Jerome, Rufinus. For them the Historia provides important information.

C. Monasteries and Monastic Life Very often, the monasteries come to existence through disciples that gather around a recognized ascetic. Other times, it is the initiative either of lay people or of men or women who start monastic life. A good example is the one of Elias, who, ascetic himself, founded a monastery for virgins out of his income-property. For this, he gathered all those virgins dispersed about. The account further describes us this monastery: “He looked after them with every refreshment, gardens, households’ utensils, and everything their life required.”8

Interesting is also the case of the brothers Paesius and Isaias. While one “shared everything among the monasteries, churches, and prisons,” the other “made no distribution of his share, but built a monastery for himself and took in a few brethren.”9 A more detailed description of a monastery and its organization is the one provided in chapter 32 and 33. There, Palladius presents Pachomius and the Tabennesiotes and afterwards the Women’s monastery. Situated in Tabennesi, in the Thebaid, an angel appeared to the monk Pachomius, giving him, in a bronze tablet, the Rule for his future monastery. This rule prescribed in detail monastic life: cells, diet, clothe, organization in twenty-four groups, services and prayers. Palladius tells us that Pachomian monasticism developed a group of monasteries with about 7000 monks. While the great monastery had 1300 monks, each of the other housed between 200 and 300. In addition to these male monasteries, there was one for nuns with some four hundred women, situated on one side of the river opposite to the men. It had a common cemetery with the male monastery. Besides these large monasteries, a vast number of monks lived alone or with few other monks, building cells for themselves or even for other monks, who could not do this. It was not unusual that those monks changed cells during their lives.10 Macarius of Alexandria, for instance, 7

Cf. A. Isola, “Melania Seniore nell'Historia Lausiaca,޵ Vetera Christianorum 33 (1996), pp. 77 ff. 8 Historia Lausiaca, 29.1. 9 Historia Lausiaca, 14.3. 10 Cf. Macarius the Younger. Historia Lausiaca, 15.2.

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Monastic Egypt by the End of the Fourth Century “had various cells in the desert – one at Scete in the innermost part of the Great Desert, another in Libya, one in so-called Cellia, and still another at Mount Nitria. Some of them were windowless, and he is said to have sat in them in darkness during Lent; another was too narrow for him to stretch out his feet in it; another was more commodious, and in this one he met those who visited him.”11

In the case of the famous John of Lycopolis, he built for him three cells: “There, on the very top of the mountain he built himself three cells, went inside, and housed himself there. One for his bodily needs; he worked and ate in the second; in the third one he prayed.”12

Beside the monks’ own work, often monasteries were supported by donations of rich people and pilgrims. Entrance into monastic life was also quite diverse. As we have seen, one could begin such a life by herself or himself. However, the most common way was to be admitted either as a disciple of a monastic father or mother (abba or amma) or into a monastic community. It has already been exposed that many virtues were requested for being accepted. Especially perseverance was tested through denial of admission. In addition, candidates were expected to show physical strength for a demanding style of life, as well as virtues. Very often knowledge by heart of vast amount of Scriptures was required. The very important fact of monastic work varied a lot as well. In lonely life or in small communities, ascetics had to build their own or others’ cells. It is said about Dorotheus that, “he used to collect stones in the desert all day long in the burning heat along the sea and to build cells for those who could not build their own, finishing one each year.”13

In addition, one needed to gain the daily bread 14 mainly by manufacturing products that could be sold in the market. Some monks died

11

Historia Lausiaca, 18.10. Historia Lausiaca, 35.1. 13 Historia Lausiaca, 2.2. 14 Cf. Historia Lausiaca, 10.6, where Pambo says: “From the time when I came into the desert here and built my cell and dwelt here, I do not recall having eaten bread for nothing, but only that which was the work of my own hands.” 12

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while they were working.15 In large monasteries, as the Pachomian ones, work was more specialized in the service of the community, for instance cooking or setting up the tables. Let us listen to Palladius’ description: “It is the same with regard to their work. One works the ground as husbandman, another works as gardener, another as smith, another as baker, another as fuller, another as weaver of large baskets, another as shoemaker, another as copyist, another as weaver of tender reeds.”16

Alongside work, an important aspect of monastic life was fasting. This, together with vigils and prayers, was regarded as remedy for temptations.17 Throughout the pages of the Historia we find deeds of extreme asceticism concerning diet and (lack of) sleep. In this regard, Macarius of Alexandria can be considered as a good (and extreme) example. About him, we read: “Such was his practice that whenever he heard of any asceticism, he surpassed it to perfection. He heard from some that the Tabennesiote monks eat their food uncooked throughout the Lenten period, so he made up his mind to eat no food that had come in contact with fire. For seven years he partook of nothing but raw vegetables, if these could be found, with a little moistened pulse.”18

Regarding sleep, his endeavour was not different: “He decided to be above the need for sleep, and he claimed that he did not go under a roof for twenty days in order to conquer sleep. He was burned by the heat of the sun and was drawn up with the cold at night. And he also said: ‘If I had not gone into the house and obtained the advantage of some sleep, my brain would have shrivelled up for good. I conquered to the extent I was able, but I gave in to the extent my nature required sleep’.”19

Due to the command of constant prayer, ascetics tried to overcome sleep. So, it is said of Antony and Paul the Simple: “Antony got up then and prayed twelve prayers and sang twelve psalms. Then he took a little of his first rest, and at midnight he got up again to sing psalms till it was day. As he noticed the old man [Paul] willingly following

15

Cf. Historia Lausiaca, 10.5: “Shortly afterward this man of God falls asleep, not consumed by a fever or any sickness, but in the act of stitching a basket when he was seventy years old.” 16 Historia Lausiaca, 32.12. 17 Historia Lausiaca, 19.7. 18 Historia Lausiaca, 18.1. 19 Historia Lausiaca, 18.3.

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Monastic Egypt by the End of the Fourth Century his way of life, he said to him: ‘If you can do this from day to day, stay with me’- Paul answered: ‘If there is anything further, I do not know, but I can readily do what I have seen.’ The following day Antony said to him: ‘Behold, you have become a monk’.”20

Palladius, however, wants to make clear to Lausus from the outset that spiritual asceticism is deeper than mere physical one. “Now drinking wine with reason is better by far than drinking water in arrogance.”21

With this, he points to pride, which is the worst vice and brings monks and nuns to abyss. Ascetics were tempted through most part of their lives. The strongest and worst temptations were those of impurity and, especially, of pride. Both of them happened in Heron’s life. Indeed, he “was thrown off balance after many labours and exalted himself, feeling himself greater than the fathers ... [and having gone to Alexandria] he went to the theatre and the horse races and haunted the taverns. Eating and drinking to excess, he fell into the filth of lust. And since he was bent upon committing sin, he met an actress and had commerce with her. This led to an ulcer. While this affair was going on, a carbuncle developed on him, and for half a year he was so ill that his members became infested with rot and fell off. Subsequently he was restored to health without these members and he came back to a pious resolution and confessed everything to the fathers. Some days later he fell asleep just before going to work.”22 Among the diverse important and extreme ascetical works, which monks perform, many are mentioned in the Historia. Only few of them can be presented here. For instance, about Isidore, the first monk presented in the Historia, it is said that he “neither bathed nor ate meat”23 and that he wept at table.24 Ptolemy used to collect dew from the rock with a sponge in pots in December and January.25 Some lived, at least for some part of their lives without shelter26 or as recluses, like the “maidservant named Alexandra

20

Historia Lausiaca, 22.8. Historia Lausiaca, Prol., 10. 22 Historia Lausiaca, 26.1-4. 23 Historia Lausiaca, 1.2. 24 Historia Lausiaca, 1.3. 25 Historia Lausiaca, 27.1. 26 Historia Lausiaca, 15.1: Macarius the Younger “stayed in the desert for three years without a shelter.” 21

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who left the city and immured herself in a tomb,” 27 and lived there in confinement,28 in order not to see anybody.29 However, while most of the monks remained quiet in their cell, Sarapion “wandered about the world,”30 in order to save people.31 All ascetics lived in penance carrying out some extreme and curious practices, such as making themselves bitten by asps32 or by mosquitoes in a marsh, in such a way that they were disfigured. Indeed, Macarius of Alexandria, after doing so, “became so swollen that some thought he had elephantiasis.”33 Many of them fought against spirits and demons,34 while some were given the gifts of healing35 or prophecy.36 Summarizing his ascetical practices, John of Lycopolis told Palladius: “Forty years have I been in this cell, never beholding a woman’s face or the sight of money. I have seen no one eating, nor has anyone seen me eating or drinking.”37

When Macarius persevered in his asceticism at the Pachomian monastery, the other monks considered him a “bodiless man.”38 From this perspective, one can consider that the goal for asceticism was to become “dead to the world.”39 I already referred to the lack of sleep, but this can be extended to all ascetical practices; their goal is to attain continuous prayer. Indeed, Macarius of Alexandria told the author of the Historia: “I had succeeded well in every kind of life I desired; then I wanted still something else, namely, to keep my mind fixed upon God without any distractions… I gave this order to my mind: ‘Do not descend from heaven, 27

Historia Lausiaca, 5.1. Also, in Rome there is another maiden living in seclusion. 37.12. 28 Historia Lausiaca, 35.2.4. 29 Cf. Historia Lausiaca, 5.2. 30 Historia Lausiaca, 37.1. 31 Cf. Historia Lausiaca, 37.4 where he sold himself to Greek actors, in order to convert them. 32 Cf. Historia Lausiaca, 2.4 and 18.10. 33 Historia Lausiaca, 18.4. 34 Historia Lausiaca, 17.2. 35 Historia Lausiaca, 12.2. 36 Historia Lausiaca, 17.2. 37 Historia Lausiaca, 35.13. 38 Historia Lausiaca, 18.15. 39 Historia Lausiaca, 37.13–16.

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Monastic Egypt by the End of the Fourth Century for there you have angels, archangels, the powers above, the God of all of us; only do not descend from heaven’ .”40

However, perfection is to be found, in following the Gospel, in charity. Palladius had emphasized this to Lausus, when he wrote: “[f]or, to be sure, neither eating nor abstinence is of any account, but it is faith which has extended itself to work done in charity that counts.”41

This faith in charity attains its summit in compassion and mercy with the poor and the sick. Indeed, one of the brothers Paesius and Isaias, as we already read, built a monastery for him and a few brethren, “Then he took in every stranger, every invalid, every old man, and every poor one as well, setting up three or four tables every Saturday and Sunday.”42

Conclusion The Historia Lausiaca is an outstanding source to the highly relevant phenomenon of Egyptian monasticism at the end of the fourth century. It comes to fill the necessity of audiences that crave for monastic tales of edification. Within a changing context, the second half of the fourth century has witnessed the emergence of the “Holy Places” and of the monastic phenomenon. Both would attract pilgrims from throughout the known world. Monasticism appears as a maximalist realization of Christianity. With Cassian, it would construct the idea that Egyptian monasticism is the standard one. Even if this is not true, and monasticism received different enculturation even at that time, the Historia witnessed the diversity and complexity of monastic phenomenon. People from different gender, as well as nationalities, origin, and culture undertook the most difficult task of their inner transformation. Beyond the many eccentricities and heroic tasks, the Historia Lausiaca suggested then and even today seeing in the lives of these saints the mystery of Christ. We should do as Palladius himself recommends to Lausus: “Go to a clear window and seek for meetings with holy men and women so that you may see clearly your own heart as in the case with a book of small writing.”43

40

Historia Lausiaca, 18.17. Historia Lausiaca, Prol., 13. 42 Historia Lausiaca, 14.3. 41

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Nuns and monks presented in our book are champions of virtuous deeds. They have renounced to everything in order to be with the only important one, especially in prayer, in order to be transformed by Him. Many were strongly challenged, other fell in their attempt. However, it is Christ himself, who transforms the ascetic. In this sense, the story of Eulogius, who took a cripple44 and cared for him until he died, even if that man constantly insulted him, is very instructive. Antony, addressing the cripple, told him about Eulogius: “Do you not realize that is Christ who is your servant? How dare you utter things against Christ?”45

By serving the poor, it is Christ, whom we are serving. Palladius is not only reproducing a series of heroic adventures, but he has understood monastic enterprise. It is in the neighbour, especially in the suffering one, in the poor, even in the one who is repugnant to us, where mysteriously Christ is present. Indeed, before addressing the cripple in the passage I just quoted, he spoke to Eulogius, who was tempted to abandon the unthankful cripple, showing him the depth of God’s heart with these words: “You would cast him [the crippled] out? But He who made him does not cast him out. You cast him out? God will raise up a finer man than you and He will gather him up.”46

43

Historia Lausiaca, Prol., 15. Historia Lausiaca, 21.4: “Well, Eulogius stood and looked intently at him, and he prayed to God and made a compact with Him: ‘Lord, in your name I will take this crippled man and look after him until death, so that I may be saved through him. Graciously grant me to endure this undertaking.’” 45 Historia Lausiaca, 21.13. 46 Historia Lausiaca, 21.12. 44

COMMAND ROUTE IN EGYPT ACCORDING TO EDICTUM ȋǿǿǿ OF JUSTINIAN AND ‘UMAR IBN AL-KHA৫৫ƖB’S CORRESPONDENCE (527–644 AD) EVINA D. BADAWY UNIVERSITY OF PELOPONNESE, GREECE

The way of governing Egypt and its administration system during two successive but historically decisive for its future periods, can be traced and compared through the historical primary sources of each period, i.e. of Justinian (527-565 AD) and ‘Umar Ibn Al-Kha৬৬Ɨb (634-644 AD). This paper is based firstly on Justinian’s Edictum ȋǿǿǿ1 as it is the most useful and basic source of its era, which aimed at the administrative reform and at facing the maladministration of Egypt,2 and secondly on the correspondence of the second Caliph ‘Umar Ibn Al-Kha৬৬Ɨb with his general and first Arab governor of Egypt ‘Amr Ibn Al ‘Ɩৢ,3 as well as on the related papyri.4



I'd

like to thank Prof. Dr. Tarek M. Muhammad and Dr. Lincoln Blumell for their remarks and careful proofreading. 1 Rudolfus Schoell & Guilelmus Kroll (eds.), Corpus Juris Civilis, Vol. tertium, novellae, 10th ed., Germany 1972: Edictum XIII, pp.780–95. 2 J. Karayannopulos, Die Entstechung der byzantinischen Themenordnung, Munchen 1959, pp. 50–58; D. C. Dennet, Conversion and the Poll Tax in Early Islam, Cambridge 1950, p. 65; Ch. Diehl, L’Égypte chrétienne et byzantine, in histoire de la nation égyptienne, Ouvrage publié sous les auspices et le haut patronage de sa majesté Fouad 1er, Roi d’Égypte, III, Paris 1933, p. 506; ǹ. Ǿ. Ȃ. Jones, Greek City from Alexander to Justinian, Oxford 1940, p. 251; Ǽ. R. Hardy, “The Egyptian Policy of Justinian,” DOP 22 (1968), p. 24; H. I. Bell, “Byzantine Servile State,” JEA 4 (1917), p. 86. 3 Ibn ࡒAbd Al-Hakam, Futnj‫ ۊ‬Mi‫܈‬r, ed. Charles Torrey, New Haven 1922, pp. 158– 62, 172–73; A. J. Butler, The Arab Conquest of Egypt and the Last Thirty Years of the Roman Dominion, P. M. Fraser ed., 2nd ed., Oxford 1978, pp. 456 (260)–459 (261); Y. Hilloowala, The History of the Conquests of Egypt, being a partial

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The comparative examination and the deeper survey of the texts of the sources of both worlds will contribute significantly and effectively to a thorough investigation on the issue of the routing of command of both powers of Justinian and ‘Umar. Justinian was selected rather than ‘Umar, i.e. the sixth and the seventh centuries respectively, since the sixth century is considered a breakthrough in the history of the early Byzantine period and leads to the transition from the early to the middle period causing serious changes and transformations, not only in the eastern Mediterranean, but also in the larger Euro-Mediterranean area.5 The same thing happens in the seventh century. This means that ‘Umar, his era and his politics marks the transition from the ’Umma to the Caliphate and from the community of believers to the society of nations with the equally serious consequences, which affected not only the so-called Euro-Mediterranean political map, but also the whole world from the seventh century until today.6 This is the passage from the classically traditional Arab homeland of Arabia to the larger region of eastern Mediterranean,7 the heart of the

 translation of Ibn ոAbd Al-Hakam’s Futnj‫ ۊ‬Mi‫܈‬r and an analysis of this translation, (dissertation-University of Arizona) 1998, pp.161–65. 4 A. Grohmann, Arabic Papyri in the Egyptian Library, (APEL) III, Cairo 1932; Ibid, “Aperçu de papyrologie arabe,” Études de papyrologie I (1932), pp. 23–95; Ibid, “Greek papyri of the early Islamic Period in the Collection of Archduke Rainer,” Études de papyrologie 8 (1957), pp. 5–40; Ibid, From the World of Arabic Papyri, Vol. I-II, Cairo 1952; H. I. Bell, Aphrodito Papyri, Greek Papyri in the British Museum, (P. Lond.), London 1910, Vol. IV; R. Remondon, Papyrus grecs d’Apollonos Ano, Le Caire 1953; N. Abbott, The Kurrah Papyri from Aphrodito in the Oriental Institute. The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Studies in Ancient Oriental Civilization, No 13, Chicago, Illinois 1938. 5 It is the “Reconquista,” the impact of the German tribes westwards to the Adriatic, the Slavs, the Byzantine-Persian conflicts, the international transitional trade between Orient and Occident, as well as the intra-ecclesiastical conflicts, the centrifugal tendencies and the heavy taxation system imposed by Justinian as a result to the above mentioned political choices. 6 The rise and expansion of Islam alone is of great importance for the future, not only for the Arabs themselves, because of their unification in “ethnos” for the first time of their history, when Arabia conquered herself between 630–634, but also for the Perso-asiatic as well as for the Euro-Mediterranean World etc. 7 For the early Arab Islamic conquests, see Al-BalƗdhurƯ, Futnj‫ ۊ‬Al-BuldƗn, ed. S. E. Al-Munajjid, 2 Vols., Cairo 1956; Ibn ࡒAbd Al-ণakam, Futnjh Mi‫܈‬r, ed.Charles Torrey, New Haven 1922; Al-৫abarƯ, TƗrƯkh al-Rusul wa’l mulnjk, Vol. IV, Cairo 1970, p. 104 ff. Cf. E.W. Brooks, “On the Chronology of the Conquest of Egypt by the Saracens,” BZ 4 (1895), p. 435 ff; Ph. K. Hitti, History of the Arabs, 10th ed., New York-London 1970, pp.139 ff, 147 ff, 155 ff, 160 ff.; Butler, The Arab Conquest, pp.

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former Hellenistic world with its rich cultural heritage. This passage was not random or coincidental but was a kind of determinism, i.e. actionreaction-result, a legitimate natural evolution, the management of which was taken over by the powerful men of the time. The Byzantine period in Egypt reaches the age of Heraclius, when the Arabs conquered this province in 640-45 AD. The administrative organization of Egypt during the Byzantine period is finalized in the sixth century, because from Justinian’s era (527-656 AD) and later, the basic administrative directions were applied and remained until the time of the Arab conquest.8 The situation prevailing at the time before Justinian,9 with the weakening of the central power, the increase of landlordism and the appearance of the church as a new socio-political factor, forced the emperor to take a series of measures so Egypt could be better governed and its wealth could be better taken advantage of. Consequently Justinian, according to Edict XIII,10 divided Egypt administratively into five independent duchies: those of Egypt (ǹੁȖȣʌIJȠȢ-Aegyptus),11 Augustamnica (ǹ੝ȖȠȣıIJĮȝȞ૙țĮ),12 Arcadia (ਝȡțĮįȓĮ),13 Thebes

 173, 183 ff; G. Donner, The Early Islamic Conquests, Princeton 1981; W. E. Kaegi, Byzantium and the Early Islamic Conquests, Cambridge, repr. 2000. 8 Butler, The Arab Conquest of Egypt, p. 450; Abbott, The Kurrah Papyri, pp. 90, 92–100; Egypt in the Byzantine World, 300–700 (Roger S. Bagnall ed.), Cambridge 2007; B. Palmer, “The Imperial presence: government and army,޵ in R. S. Bagnall (ed.), Egypt in the Byzantine World, 300–700, Cambridge 200, ch. 12; Hardy, The Egyptian Policy of Justinian, pp. 21–41; G. Rouillard, L’administration civile de l’Egypte byzantine, 2nd ed., Paris 1949. 9 Rouillard, L’administration, pp. 8–17, 25 ff.; H.I. Bell, Egypt from Alexander the Great to the Arab Conquest, London 1948, (Arabic trans. Cairo 1954), pp. 147–56, 166–68; Ibid, “The Byzantine Servile State in Egypt,” JEA 4 (1917), pp. 86-106; N. Lewis & M Reinhold, Roman Civilization, Sourcebook, Vol. II, Columbia, 1966, pp. 419–55; Abbott, The Kurrah Papyri, p. 77 ff; Dennet, Conversion, p. 66 ff.; Ǽ. R. Hardy, The Large Estates of Byzantine Egypt, New York 1931, pp. 25–38; M. Gelzer, Studien zur Byzantinischen Verwaltung Ägyptens, Leipzig 1909, pp. 83–89. 10 Rudolfus Schoell & Guilelmus Kroll (ed.), Corpus juris civilis, Edict. XIII, pp. 780–95. 11 Edict XIII.I.I.: “IJȑȦȢ Ƞਫ਼Ȟ IJȩȞ ʌİȡȓȕȜİʌȠȞ Į੝ȖȠȣıIJȐȜȚȠȞ ȕȠȣȜȩȝİșĮ Į੝IJȒȢ IJİ ਝȜİȟĮȞįȡİȓĮȢ ਗȡȤİȚȞ țĮȓ ਖʌȐȞIJȦȞ IJ૵Ȟ țĮIJ’ Į੝IJȒȞ ijȡȠȞIJȓȗİȚȞ, țĮȓ ʌȡȩȢ Ȗİ įȪȠ ǹੁȖȪʌIJȦȞ țĮȓ ȝȩȞȦȞ, ਥȟȘȡȘȝȑȞȠȣ IJȠ૨ ȜİȖȠȝȑȞȠȣ ȂİȞİȜĮ૗IJȠȣ IJોȢ ʌȩȜİȦȢ ਴IJȚȢ ਥıIJȓ ʌȡȫIJȘȢ ǹੁȖȪʌIJȠȣ, țĮȓ ʌȡȩȢ Ȗİ IJȠ૨ ȂĮȡİȫIJȠȣ… (ȝİIJȐ IJȒȞ İੁȡȘȝȑȞȘȞ ਥȟĮȓȡİıȚȞ IJȠ૨ IJİ ȂĮȡİȫIJȠȣ țĮȓ IJȠ૨ ȂİȞİȜĮ૗IJȠȣ) …” 12 Rouillard, L’administration, pp. 31–32; J. Maspero L’organisation militaire de l’ Egypte byzantine, Paris 1912 (reprinted-Hildesheim. New York 1974), p. 29; Karayannopulos, Themenordnung, p. 65; Gelzer, Studien, p. 28.

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(ĬȘȕĮȧțȩȞ ȜȚȝȚIJȩȞ-Thebaidis),14 and Libya (ȁȚȕȣțȩȞ ȜȓȝȚIJȠȞ).15 To each duchy (ǻȠȣțȐIJȠȞ) he appointed a duke (ǻȠȪȟ-Dux), and military and political power was given to each of them. Thus Egypt during sixth century lost its political unity for the first time in its long history.16 The Prefect Augustalius17 (Praefectus Augustalis) of Egypt, who was at the same time the imperial representative, lost his position and was limited only to the duchy of Egypt, based in Alexandria. When there was no longer a central imperial representative in Egypt, the dukes addressed their different issues directly to the Prefect of “Praetorium of the Orient” (ਥȞįȠȟȩIJĮIJȠȢ ਩ʌĮȡȤȠȢ IJ૵Ȟ ਕȞĮIJȠȜȚț૵Ȟ ੂİȡ૵Ȟ ʌȡĮȚIJȦȡȓȦȞ).18 Therefore, Justinian’s Edict XIII of 535 or 55419 is addressed to the Prefect of the Praetorium of the Orient rather than to the imperial representative in Egypt. With the reforms of Justinian, the duchies (except for Arcadia) were divided into two provinces and each province was governed by one ruler (praeses- ਥʌȚȤȫȡȚȠȢ ਙȡȤȦȞ), 20 who had only civil power, and obeyed his duke. The head of each duchy reported to the Emperor through the Prefect of the Praetorium of the Orient, who held the title “magister militum

 13

John of Nikiou, Chronique de Jean Eveque de Nikiou. Texte Ithiopique, notices et extraits des Mss. de la bibliotheque nationale XXIV, trad. M. Ǿ. ǽotenberg, I, Paris 1883; 2nd ed., Paris 1935, CXX, p. 577; Grohmann, inv. ar. pap. no 4 (642 A.D.), l. 2–3; P. Lond., Vol. III, 1073, p. 251. Cf. Rouillard, L’administration, pp. 32–33; Gelzer, Studien, pp. 28–29; Maspero, L’organisation militaire, pp. 74–76; Karayannopulos, Themenordnung, p. 50, n. 7, p. 65. 14 Edict. XIII, cap. IV, i, ii, cap. XXIII, “IJȠ ĬȘȕĮȧțȩȞ ȁȓȝȚIJȠȞ;” Bell, P. Lond., Vol. V, 1663, 1664, 1679; Karayannopulos, Themenordnung, pp. 62, 65; Rouillard L’ administration, pp. 33-34. 15 Edict. XIII, cap. i.i., ii, XVIII, XXIII, XXVIII, “IJȠȣ ȁȚȕȣțȠȪ ȜȓȝȚIJȠȣ,” iii. “IJȠ ĬȘȕĮȧțȩȞ ȜȓȝȚIJȠȞ;” Karayannopulos, Themenordnung, p. 62; Rouillard, L’administration, pp. 34–35; Maspero, L’organisation militaire, p. 75. 16 H. Badawy, Egypt’s administrative organization after the Arab conquest. Similarities and differences according to the Byzantine model, Thessaloniki 1994, p. 23; Rouillard, L’administration, p. 28; Maspero, L’organisation militaire, p. 29. 17 Edict XIII, I.i.; Rouillard, L’administration, p. 28. 18 Edict XIII, pr. I.: “ȆǼȇǿ ȉǾȈ ǹȁǼȄǹȃǻȇǼȍȃ Ȁǹǿ ȉȍȃ ǹǿīȊȆȉǿǹȀȍȃ ǼȆǹȇȋǿȍȃ, (੒ ਕȣIJȩȢ ȕĮıȚȜİȪȢ) ੉ȦȐȞȞૉ…IJ૶ ਥȞįȠȟȠIJȐIJ૳ ਥʌȐȡȤ૳ IJ૵Ȟ ਕȞĮIJȠȜȚț૵Ȟ ੂİȡ૵Ȟ ʌȡĮȚIJȦȡȓȦȞ.” 19 Rouillard, L’administration, pp. 15-24. 20 Edict XIII I.i: “੬ıIJİ IJȩȞ ਗȡȤȠȞIJĮ IJȩȞ ਥʌȚȤȫȡȚȠȞ IJ૵Ȟ İੁȡȘȝȑȞȦȞ įȪȠ ਥʌĮȡȤȚ૵Ȟ ਥʌ’ Į੝IJ૶ IJİIJȐȤșĮȚ țĮȓ ȝȩȞ૳, țĮșȐʌİȡ țĮȓ ȝȑȤȡȚ Ȟ૨Ȟ ıȤȒȝĮIJȠȢ ਩ȤİȚ;” Edict XIII, ii.2iii.3.

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praesentalis et per Orientem,”21 like the Emperor himself, as it is clearly recorded in the first line of the Edict, which was addressed to the dukes of Egypt through the Prefect of the Praetorium of the Orient. Every province was divided into several smaller administrative units. The most important unit was Pagarchy (ȆĮȖĮȡȤȓĮ), head of which was the Pagarch (ȆȐȖĮȡȤȠȢ and/or ȆĮȖȐȡȤȘȢ).22 The existence of the Pagarchy of course is known prior to the Edict of Justinian. The prevailing opinion among the scholars is that the Pagarchy was created in the late fifth century. Alongside with the Pagarchy even smaller administrative units co-existed, which fell under either directly to the central fund of the Duchy or the pagarch or to the provincial and local officers, depending on their capacity and the special regime to which they belonged to. Examples include praesedes, curiales, autopraktoi,23 meizoteroi, etc. However, after the Arab conquest, the provincial officers gradually disappeared along with their dukes, as well as the administrative division, which disintegrated into duchies and provinces. The only administrative units that remained were the Pagarch with the Pagarchy as well as the meizon or meizoteros with his village. Accordingly, based on Edict XIII, one may determine the routing of command before the conquest of Egypt as follows: from Imperator to Magister militum praesentalis et per Orientem to Dux Augustalios and/or Dux to Praeses Provinciae to Curiales - Pagarchus- the so-called autopraktoi to meizoteroi, etc.

 21

See n.18. 22 P. Lond., Vol. IV, 1332, 1333, 1460, 1461: “Įʌȩ ʌȠȓȠȣ ȤȦȡȓȠȣ țĮȓ İȞ ʌȠȓȦ IJȩʌȦ țĮȓ İȞ ʌȠȓĮ ʌĮȖĮȡȤȓĮ…;” P. OXY., I, 130-136, 138. 23 Edict XIII. I.; P. Lond., vol. IV, 1332, 1333, 1460, 1461. “(੒ ਕȣIJȩȢ ȕĮıȚȜİȪȢ) ੉ȦȐȞȞૉ…IJ૶ ਥȞįȠȟȠIJȐIJ૳ ਥʌȐȡȤ૳ IJ૵Ȟ ਕȞĮIJȠȜȚț૵Ȟ ੂİȡ૵Ȟ ʌȡĮȚIJȦȡȓȦȞ.”

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According to the above scheme, although both political and military hands were concentrated in the hands of one official, the administrative reform of Justinian neither decreased the bureaucracy nor solved the maladministration, despite the earnest and sincere attempt of the Byzantine emperor. More specifically, the directing of the imperial order concerning the Egyptian diocese24 was always directed to the Prefect of the Praetorium of the Orient, whom even the Emperor Justinian addressed with great honor25 (glorissimo-ਫȞįȠȟȠIJȐIJȦ). Then the Prefect in turn conveyed the imperial order to the various dukes of Egypt. From the moment of the order’s arrival in the hands of the dukes in Egypt, it was their obligation to carry out their administrative duties and to ensure its dispatch to the several smaller administrative divisions of the duchy, i.e. to praesedes, the curiales of the cities, to pagarchs and avtopraktoi. In order for the highest-ranking officials of Egypt to communicate with the emperor, all types of correspondence always passed through the hands of the Prefect of the Praetorium of the Orient, who in his turn conveyed the correspondence to Constantinople. When considering the geographic distance, one may also perceive the role of time in efficient and effective communication between the centre and the periphery. Therefore, the speed of transport was certainly an obstacle. The specificity of Egypt, especially that of Alexandria, the populous and turbulent city, as rightly described in Edict XIII, was required a quick response, given the long distance and bureaucratic procedures, where the events of Alexandria and the whole of Egypt that took place required an immediate action, which could not be achieved in proper time. After the Arab conquest of Egypt, many elements, which were associated, directly and indirectly, dealt efficiently with the administration of Egypt. Specifically, the Arab conquest caused changes that facilitated communication. First of all, the seat of government was transferred from Alexandria to Fossaton (ĭȠııȐIJȠȞ- ρΎτδϔϟ΍ -Al-Fus৬Ɨ৬), which was closer to the centre. This alone requires a new diversified administrative division according to the importance of the geographical departments. The development of the eastern gate of Egypt in Klysma-Suez (ȀȜȪıȝĮ) proved the change of the route of the governmental command

 24

Edict. XIII, Praefatio, l. 10, “... AੁȖȣʌIJȚĮțȒ įȚȠȓțȘıȚȞ.” 25 Edict. XIII, pr. I.: “Ȇİȡȓ IJȘȢ ǹȜİȟĮȞįȡȑȦȞ țĮȚ IJȦȞ ǹȚȖȣʌIJȚĮțȫȞ İʌĮȡȤȚȫȞ, (੒ ਕȣIJȩȢ ȕĮıȚȜİȪȢ) ੉ȦȐȞȞૉ…IJ૶ ਥȞįȠȟȠIJȐIJ૳ ਥʌȐȡȤ૳ IJ૵Ȟ ਕȞĮIJȠȜȚț૵Ȟ ੂİȡ૵Ȟ ʌȡĮȚIJȦȡȓȦȞ.”

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and the importance of the new trade routes and thus the qualitative and quantitative differentiation of Egypt’s needs.26 Egypt after its Arab conquest appeared again as a united geopolitical unit, something that had not occurred since the time of Justinian’s reforms.27 The Arabs dissolved the major administrative divisions (duchies and provinces) and replaced them with small geographical and economic units,28 the Pagarchies.29 Accordingly, the role of the duke and of the provincial officer ceased and were replaced by the Pagarch. Thus, the command when issued from Medina and the Caliph did not need to be delivered30 to a Prefect of the Praetorium of the Orient, who would read it separately to the dukes of Egypt, who would in their turn communicate it to the provinces and Pagarchies in order that the Praesedes and the Pagarchs might supervise its implementation by their people, as was customary in the Byzantine administrative system. With the Arab administrative system founded by ‘Umar,31 the command of the Caliph was issued in the name of God (ਥȞ ੑȞȩȝĮIJȚ IJȠ૨ ĬİȠ૨ - ௌ ϢδΑ) and notified to the Amir (ǹȝȘȡȐȢ–ਫȝȓȡȘȢ – ȈȪȝȕȠȣȜȠȢ – ήϴϣ΃), the supreme leader in Fossaton, who ensured its implementation by the people under the supervision and responsibility of each Pagarchy. When it concerns a local issue of Egypt, there was a strong central authority that was able to make decisions.32 This strong central authority of the administrative system of Egypt is what was missing during the last years of the administration before the conquest. Considering the above facts, after the Arab conquest one may determine the line of the command for Egypt as follows: Firstly, the command was usually issued in the name of God (ௌ ϢδΑ) as head of the State and the source of all Laws, i.e:

 26

Badawy, Administrative organization, pp. 64–67. 27 Ibid, p. 68. 28 Ibid, pp. 72,101. 29 Ibid, pp.71–72. 30 See n. 3. 31 Ibn al-JawzƯ, ManƗqib AmƯr Al-Mu’minƯn ‘Umar ibn Al-Kha‫ܒܒ‬Ɨb, Beirut n.d., pp. 59–60, 82–89, 92–94, 99–114, 127–134; H. Badawy, Introduction to the History of the Islamic World, Vol. I, Thessaloniki 2003, pp. 156–66 (in Greek). 32 The example of Qurrah ibn SharƯk is of great importance together with his correspondence with his local officials, see Abbott, The Kurrah Papyri, pp. 117– 18; Badawy, Administrative organization, p. 57.

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Issued in the name of God “to” from the Caliph to the Amir to the Pagarch to the inhabitants of the Pagarchy and to the smaller administration units, like villages and/or to the inhabitants of small areas etc. Moreover, one also encounters the directing of command within the territory of the Amir addressed either to the Pagarch or to the inhabitants of an area. In this level of the command, directing the command was once more issued in the name of God by the Amir to the Pagarch or by the Amir to the inhabitants of an area.33 These variations of the command, beyond the ideological image of the “theocratic” state, also define an administrative system. The command is clear and direct to the recipient. This way there is no intermediary between: Ͳ God and the Caliph Ͳ The Caliph and the Amir Ͳ The Amir and the Pagarch Ͳ The Amir and the people, something, which also shows the limitation of the local officials’ authority. It is noteworthy that by examining the directing of the command through the correspondence of Caliph ‘Umar with Amir ‘Amr and the papyri, it becomes evident that the Arab administration system is a reflection of the model of their military organization: strong central power (ideologically dominated) and immediately below the small unit, based on the tribal system. Apart from the above, we should add the tribal background in relation to the administration and organization of the state. The tribal conception had to do directly with immediacy, the non-dogmatic spirit, and efficiency. In fact, it leaned towards the smaller group as a communication and administration base, i. e. towards a concept similar to the tribal concept. Perhaps this is the reason why Arabs preferred to ensure that the Pagarchy and the village continued their function even after the conquest as a basic unit of administration and administrative organization instead of the duchy and the province, i.e. instead of large administrative units. This settled

 33

Grohmann, P. APEL III, Pap. no 335.

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tribal perception, which was engraved in Arabs’ collective consciousness, strongly influenced their choices in their selection and adoption of former administrative systems of conquered territories. We should also pay attention to the great significance and semantics of the preservation of the former administrative mechanism of the Byzantine administration in Egypt by ‘Umar, as shown clearly in the papyri and other sources (highest ranking officials, administrative and religious symbols of the former regime of the Byzantines and even the national Coptic church, e.g. proper names, cross, voula, seals etc.).34 The fact that they continued to be used indicates the tendency that the new rulers are interested in the outcome of their command and that they interfere wherever power vacuums occurred, as evidenced by the key positions in the administrative mechanism staffed only by Arabs with Arabic titles, while the rest of the mechanism was staffed by Greeks and/or Greek–speaking natives. This fact was either due to the tribal and non-dogmatic privileges that were interested simply in the role of the officials to ensure the continuity of their existence, or due to the tolerance and permissiveness of the Arabs, influenced by their tribal concepts.35 This contrasts with Justinian, who appeared provocative due to his harsh religious policy, which affected his administrative reform, prohibiting “heretics” to undertake administrative positions in the public sector.36

Conclusion In conclusion, we may suggest that there are many points of comparison in both Justinian’s and ‘Umar’s political choices and decisions. Both men’s stance was strongly focused on military and religious matters, construction, administrative reforms and the reorganization of the state. Conceivably, for these reasons, it was an era of great achievements for both great men; an era of great reconquest for Justinian and an era of great conquest for ‘Umar. Once ‘Umar took over, he chose the title AmƯr Al-Mu’minƯn (ϦϴϨϣΆϤϟ΍ ήϴϣ΃) which emphasizes the intense military (Amir) and religious (Mu’minƯn) character. Justinian equally added a military character to the imperial policy of Byzantium during the sixth century and the beginning of the seventh century by combining the two supreme authorities - military and civil -

 34

Badawy, Administrative organization, pp. 83–84, n. 297, 298. 35 H. Badawy, Introduction to the History of Islamic World, 2nd ed., Vol. II, Thessaloniki 2013, pp. 119–28, 173, 194, 204-206, 209–11 (in Greek); Idem, Administrative organization, p. 32, n. 90. 36 Badawy, Administrative organization, p. 32, n. 90–91.

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and by giving them to a duke. This is clearly demonstrated in Edict XIII,37 which concerns the state reconstruction with the reorganization of the administrative system of Egypt, along with a highly visible religious policies aimed at dogmatic homogenization by imposing the Orthodox dogma on the population of the whole empire. He considered the church and the state as one organism, of which the “supervising nous”38 was the Emperor himself. Such a concept had serious consequences at the expense of Byzantium. Both Justinian and ‘Umar were deeply religious, which is clearly indicated by their policy. The most considerable difference between the two men is made clear by Justinian’s harsh religious policy towards nonChristians and his even harder policy towards the so-called heretics.39 ‘Umar on the other hand had the opposite policy towards religious communities, something that is suggested clearly by the treaties signed with the conquered peoples40 and by his meeting with Sophronius, Patriarch of Jerusalem. The routing of command certainly shows the main bureaucratic stations in the state machinery as well as the distance between the base and the head of the state. Furthermore, what is of great significance and importance is the relationship between church and state, or, in other words, between secular and religious power. The circulation of religious terminology and its frequency in the texts of the primary sources of both systems can then be safely used as historical evidence of the “theocratic” approach of both sides.

 37

J. Karayannopoulos, History of Byzantine State, 5th ed., Thessaloniki 1995, Vol. I, p. 620 (in Greek). 38 Ibid, pp. 393-94, where Karayannopoulos suggests that: “…the principles of the ecclesiastical policy of Justinian should be sought in the political theory of the Byzantines. According to this theory, the Emperor was both the protector and the “magister” of the church. He could therefore regulate the ecclesiastical and the political affairs…” No other emperor claims, J. B. Bury in his History of the Late Roman Empire, V. II, did not take so seriously his responsibilities as Head of the Church, as Justinian. 39E. R. Hardy, “The Egyptian Policy of Justinian,” DOP 22 (1968), pp. 23–60. 40 E.g. the treaty of Damascus, Al-BalƗdhurƯ, Futnj‫ ۊ‬Al-BuldƗn, p. 144, Treaty of Egypt and Alexandria, Al-BalƗdhurƯ, Idem, pp. 249, 259–64; Ibn ࡒAbd Al-ণakam, Futnj‫ ۊ‬Mi‫܈‬r, pp. 152–53. Cf. also Butler, Arab Conquest, p. 331 ff.; A. Al-JuhainƯ and M. Mustafa, Al-IslƗm wal-Ɩkhar, Cairo 2007, pp. 43–67, 95–115 (in Arabic); J. A. Morrow, The Covenants of the Prophet Muhammad with the Christians of the World, Sophia Perennis 2013.

SOME REMARKS ON THE ARAB CONQUEST OF EGYPT FROM CA. 639-640 AD TO CA. 645-646 AD: THE MILITARY ASPECT V. CHRISTIDES RESEARCH FELLOW AT THE DEPARTMENT OF ANCIENT AND BIBLICAL STUDIES, UNIVERSITY OF SOUTH AFRICA

Introduction The study of the Arab conquest of Egypt has recently been somewhat intensified although there continue to be more questions than answers.1



I

would like to express my thanks to Prof. Dr. Tarek M. Muhammad for inviting me to The Second International Conference on Christian Egypt, 284-641 A.D. (Cairo 5th -7th May 2015) and for designating me as the main speaker of the conference. His continuous efforts in the study of Arab-Byzantine relations are praiseworthy. 1 Needless to say that Alfred J. Butler’s admirable book, The Arab Conquest of Egypt and the Last Thirty Years of the Roman Dominion, Oxford 1902, 2nd ed. with critical bibliography and additional documentation by P. M. Fraser, Oxford 1978, although written more than 100 years ago, remains the only comprehensive full account of the Arab conquest of Egypt. For a short account, see my article “Miৢr,” The Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd ed., VII, Leiden 1991, pp. 152-60, for the Arabs’ itinerary, pp. 153-54. For the most important references in the Arabic sources with an English translation, see D. R. Hill, The Termination of Hostilities in the Early Arab Conquest, London 1971; P. M. Sijpesteijn, “The Arab Conquest of Egypt and the Beginning of Muslim Rule,” in R. S. Bagnall (ed.), Egypt in the Byzantine World 300–700, Cambridge 2007, pp. 437–59; H. Kennedy, “Egypt as a Province in the Islamic Caliphate, 641–868,” in C. F. Petry (ed.), The Cambridge History of Egypt. Vol. I Islamic Egypt, 640–1517, Cambridge 1998, pp. 62–85; Idem,The Historiography of Islamic Egypt c. 950–1800, Leiden 2000; J. Soto Chica, “Egipto, los árabes y la conquista de la Libia Marmárica, Pentápolis y Tripolitania 642– 698,” in L. A. García Moreno – E. Sánchez Medina – Lidia Fernández Fonfría (eds.), El 711 y otras conquistas: Historiografia y Reprepsentaciones, Madrid

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This article is limited to a discussion of the very important military aspect of the conquest. It constituted the backbone of the Arabs’ success without, of course, underestimating the importance of the religious fervor of the Arab conquerors, which contrasted dramatically with the fatigue of the Byzantines due to their perpetual struggle with the Persians.2 To start with some preliminary remarks concerning the validity of all sources relevant to the historical events of ancient and medieval times, the present author has repeatedly expressed his view that there are not any complete works, either Greek, Arabic or Syriac, which can be either accepted or rejected in toto. As it is well known, the authenticity of the Arabic historical sources, in general, has been rejected by a number of modern scholars since they were written a few centuries after the time the events had occurred and were transmitted orally.3 I believe that Humphreys’ conclusion is valid, i.e. that most of the relevant Arabic sources have an authentic kernel of truth.4 Undoubtedly, in addition to any textual scrutiny of the sources, corroborative information from relevant historical and other materials should be taken into consideration. For the Christian sources, some written in Arabic and some in Syriac, the same observation must be made: no rejection in toto should be applied because of the supposed prejudices of the authors, but instead the trustworthy elements must be ferreted out. Rare but important information is often scattered throughout all the relevant Syriac sources in spite of their religious point of view. Thus in a passage of the reconstituted text of Dionysius of Tel-MaতrƝ, we read that when the Arab ships under Abnj alA‘war approached Cyprus in 649 AD, a number of prominent Cypriot citizens, who possessed sailing vessels, escaped to Byzantium.5 On the

 2015, pp. 543-608; Idem,“Africa disputada: los últimos años del Africa bizantina,” in L. A. García Moreno – E. Sánchez Medina – Lidia Fernández Fonfría (eds.), El 711 y otras conquistas: Historiografi y Reprepsentaciones, Madrid 2015, pp. 459– 516; C. Martínez Carrasco, “Al-Muqawqas and the Islamic Conquest of Egypt. A New Proposal of Interpretation,” in Graeco-Arabica 12 (2017), pp. 477–501. See also Addendum. 2 J. Soto Chica, Bizantinos, Sasánidos y Musulmanes. El fin del mundo antiguo y el comienzo de la edad media en oriente: 565–642, Granada 2010. 3 Numerous heated discussions have taken place concerning this topic; suffice it to mention here Patricia Crone’s work, Slaves on Horses, the Evolution of the Islamic Polity, Cambridge1980. 4 R. S. Humphreys, Islamic History. A Framework for Inquiry, rev. ed., London – New York 1990, p. 86 ff. 5 The Seventh Century in the West-Syrian Chronicles, Ps.-Dionysius of Tel-Ma‫ۊ‬rƝ, text 13: Dionysius Reconstituted, trans. and annotation A. Palmer, Liverpool 1993, p. 176 and xxxii.

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other hand, it is not surprising that while some Christian authors constantly slandered other Christian leaders, they did not hesitate to praise the virtues of some Muslim rulers. Michael the Syrian praised the caliph ‘Umar I (634-644 AD) for being fair and generous and simple in his manners,6 while he described the viceroy of Egypt, Patriarch Cyrus, as incompetent.7 The main Byzantine source, Theophanes’ Chronicle,8 contains valuable information in spite of its bias against the Coptic antiChalcedonians. It especially emphasizes the enmity between the emperor Heraclius and the patriarch Cyrus, focusing on the detrimental role that antagonism played in the Byzantines’ defense of Egypt. In addition, it reports on certain preliminary Arab attacks on Egypt but does not provide us with any lengthy description of the military operations. The most important source, which is interspersed with references to the military operations of the Arab invasion and the Arabs’ settlement in Egypt, is the chronicle of the contemporary Egyptian author John Bishop of Nikiu; unfortunately, this chronicle has been preserved only in a partial Ethiopian version and has been corrupted.9 Although the work of John Bishop of Nikiu has not been properly appreciated,10 his nuggets of information both about the military operations and the political situation of Egypt at the dawn of the Arab conquest and the aftermath is invaluable.11 Finally, significant information about the military preparedness of the early Arab army in general at this time and about ‘Amr bn. al-‘Ɩৢ’s expedition in particular can be drawn from the epic romance Futnj‫ ۊ‬al-

 6

Chronique de Michel le Syrien patriache jacobite d’Antioche, ed. and trans. J.-B. Chabot, II, Paris, 1901, 2nd ed., Brussels 1963, p. 426. 7 Michel le Syrien, II, p. 426. 8 The Chronicle of Theophanes, trans. H. Turtledove, Philadelphia 1982, pp. 40– 41; Theophanes the Confessor, Chronographia, Vol. I, ed. C. de Boor, Leipzig 1883, repr. 1980, p. 338, lines 12–19. 9 John of Nikiu, Chronicle, trans. R. H. Charles, The Chronicle of John, Bishop of Nikiu translated from Zotenberg’s Ethiopic Text, Oxford 1916; Chronique de Jean, évêque de Nikiou. Texte éthiopien, ed. and trans. M. H. Zotenberg (notices et extraits des manuscrits de la Bibliothèque Nationale 24), Paris 1883. 10 See for example F. R. Trombley, “Fiscal Documents from the Muslim Conquest of Egypt, Military Supplies and Administrative Dislocation, ca 639–644,” Revue des études byzantines 71 (2013), p. 7 (article: pp. 5–37), who uses the papyrological evidence extensively, somewhat underestimates John Bishop of Nikiu’s work. 11V. Christides, John Bishop of Nikiou’s Chronicon (seventh century A.D.): An indispensable source for the study of the Arab conquest of Egypt and its aftermath,” Journal of Semitics 25.2 (2016), pp. 748–68.

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BahnasƗ, which has rarely been taken into consideration by most modern scholars.12

Military Strategy of the Arabs and Byzantine Defense In a number of Arabic sources, the invasion and conquest of Egypt appears as an impulsive action by the Arab general ‘Amr bn. al-‘Ɩৢ with the reluctant acceptance of Caliph ‘Umar I (634-644 AD).13 In contrast, in the succinct account of the Byzantine author Theophanes and in some parallel Syriac sources, the main invasion appears as preceded by some early Arab raids, which were assuaged with gifts of gold paid by the Byzantine authorities of Alexandria.14 Two important sources, Severus (SƗwƯrus) bn. al-Muqaffa‘ and ৫abarƯ, explicitly report that the decision to invade Egypt was taken by ‘Umar I himself, who appointed ‘Amr bn. al-‘Ɩৢ to lead the Arab army into Egypt.15 From these conflicting accounts, we can assume that the Arab invasion of Egypt was a joint endeavor undertaken by Caliph ‘Umar and his general ‘Amr bn. al-‘Ɩৢ. While ‘Amr paid special attention to the richness of the

 12

See the excellent unpublished dissertation of Gamal M. Ahmed El-Tahir, ǺȣȗĮȞIJȚȞȠ-ȃȠȣȕȚțȐ. Ǿ ıȣȝȕȠȜȒ IJȦȞ ȈȠȣįĮȞȫȞ ıIJȘȞ ȐȝȣȞĮ IJȘȢ ǺȣȗĮȞIJȚȞȒȢ ǹȚȖȪʌIJȠȣ, University of Ioannina, Ioannina 1994; P. M. Sijpesteijn, “The Arab Conquest of Egypt and the beginning of Muslim Rule,” pp. 437–59; M. Émile Galtier (trans.), Futnj‫ ۊ‬al-Bahnasâ, in Mémoires de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale, xxii, Cairo 1909. 13 See for example BalƗdhurƯ, Futnj‫ ۊ‬al-BuldƗn, ed. ‘A. al-TabbƗ’a, Beirut 1987, p. 298; Ph. Hitti, trans., The Origins of the Islamic State, New York 1916, p. 335. See also M. M. MazzƗwƯ’s statement “As is to be expected, the strategy and tactics of the conquests are very difficult to ascertain in these early Arabic sources. And, it goes without saying, the accounts as we have them cannot be taken at their face value,” in “The Conquest of Alexandria according to the Early Arab Historians: A Critical Appraisal,” Graeco-Arabica 5 (1993), p. 167 (article: pp. 167–75). 14 Theophanes the Confessor, Chronographia, Vol. I, ed. C. de Boor, Leipzig 1883, repr. New York 1980, p. 338, lines 12-16; The Seventh Century in the WestSyrian Chronicles,158; Michael the Syrian (Elder), Chronique de Michel le Syrien, II, pp. 425–26. 15 Severus (SƗwƯrus) bn. al-Muqaffa‘ (authorship disputed), History of the Patriarchs of the Coptic Church of Alexandria (S. Mark to Benjamin I), ed. and trans. B. Evetts, in Patrologia Orientalis, I, Paris 1907, p. 403; The History of alܑabari (Ta’rƯkh al-rusul wa’ l mulnjk), trans. and annot. G. H. A. Juynboll, Vol. XIII, Albany, New York 1989, p. 166: “He [‘Umar I] sent ‘Amr bn. al-‘Ɩৢ to Egypt.”

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country and its trade importance,16 no doubt its strategic importance as a vital naval center in the Mediterranean could not have escaped Caliph ‘Umar’s attention. Certainly, ‘Umar was also thoroughly acquainted with the significance of the Egyptian ports of Klysma and Bereniki on the Red Sea as key ports on the silk route. It was during his early rule that the Arabs launched a raid against the Ethiopians in the Red Sea in 641 AD and two long distance raids in India, originating from Oman and Baতrayn in 637 AD.17 ‘Umar, after the conquest of Jerusalem (638 AD), summoned a conference with his generals to prepare their expansion towards the Palestinian coastal towns.18 Most likely, it was then that they decided to invade Egypt where the remains of the Byzantine army had taken refuge.19 It is from the Syrian coastal town of Caesaria that ‘Amr started his Egyptian campaign which was an inevitable expansion. In any case, the invasion of Egypt started under the leadership of the general ‘Amr bn. al-‘Ɩৢ on 10 Dhu’l-Hijja H18/12 December 639 AD according to one of the most reliable authors, Ibn ‘Abd al-ণakam,20 and ended with the second Arab conquest of Alexandria in H25/645-646 AD.21 Even from the meager information of the relevant sources on the one hand, we can discern the Byzantines’ defense in northern Egypt at that time and on the other, ‘Amr’s rudimentary military preparation and strategy in the first stage of his invasion. In general, there was not a specific line of defense in northern Egypt; instead, castles dominated vast areas and each Byzantine defeat resulted in the loss of large adjacent areas. Unfortunately,

 16

M. Ibrahim The Social and Economic Background of the Umayyad Caliphate: the Role of Mu‘Ɨwiya Ibn. AbƯ SufyƗn, unpublished dissertation UCLA, Los Angeles 1981, p. 192 ff.; Christides, “Miৢr,” p. 153. 17 F. Gabrieli, “Muতammad ibn QƗsim ath-ThaqafƯ and the Arab Conquest of Sind,” East and West 15 (1964-1965), pp. 281-95; Christides, “New Light on Navigation and Naval Warfare in the Eastern Mediterranean, the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean (6th -14th centuries AD),” Part B “Sailing Ventures in Early Islam in the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean,” Nubica III/1 (1994), pp. 27–42. 18 El-Tahir, ǺȣȗĮȞIJȚȞȠ-ȃȠȣȕȚțȐ, p. 65. 19 BalƗdhurƯ, Futnj‫ ۊ‬al-BuldƗn, Ar. text, p. 201. 20 Ibn ‘Abd al-ণakam, Futnj‫ ۊ‬Mi‫܈‬r, in C. C. Torrey (ed.), The History of the Conquest of Egypt, North Africa and Spain, New Haven1922, p. 58; ৫abari places ‘Amr’s attack in the year H20/ Dec. 21, 640-Dec. 9, 641. See The History of alܑabarƯ (Ta’rƯkh al-rusul wa’ l mulnjk), p. 162; BalƗdhurƯ, Futnj‫ ۊ‬al-BuldƗn, p. 298, reports ‘Amr’s attack on H19/January 2-December 20, 640. 21For the second Arab conquest of Alexandria, see V. Christides, “Sea vs. Land: The Second Arab Conquest of Alexandria (ca AH 25/ AD 645-646),” Ekklesiastikos Pharos 94, N. S. 23 (2012), pp. 375–96.

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no substantial archaeological finds have been unearthed in the areas conquered by ‘Amr during this stage of his expedition from ‘ArƯsh to the strongly fortified town of Babylon. Details about the construction of fortresses in northern Egypt are sorely missing, but obviously, they were not as indestructibly built or as fully equipped as those of southern Egypt. For example, the fortress of AhnƗs is described as impregnable in Futnj‫ۊ‬ al-BahnasƗ and the invading Arab army was forced to use incendiary material in order to subdue it.22 Details about the type and number of soldiers defending the Byzantine castles are not known. No doubt, the soldiers stationed in the castles were part of the regular Byzantine army of Egypt, which was mainly composed of Egyptians although the Arabic sources refer to them with the term rnjm (Roman).23 The Byzantine army in Egypt was recruited from among the local population and also included non-Egyptian soldiers who came from other areas and were usually married to local women. The male children of the latter were also obliged to serve in the Byzantine army, according to the Byzantine law.24 Most of these foreign soldiers were incorporated into the regular Byzantine army, but some were grouped in special homogenous, semi-independent, auxiliary units. Such units, called federati, were often recruited from among the Nubians and usually served

 22

Futnj‫ ۊ‬al-Bahnasâ, ed. M. E. Galtier, p. 104. 23 See for example, MaqrƯzƯ, Al-MawƗ‘iz wa-l l‘TibƗr fi Dhikr al-Khi‫ܒ‬a‫ ܒ‬w-alƖthƗr, ed. BnjlƗq, Vol. I, H 1270, pp. 542–43. For the Byzantine army in the early period in general, see J. Karayannopoulos, ǿıIJȠȡȓĮ IJȠȣ ǺȣȗĮȞIJȚȞȠȪ ȀȡȐIJȠȣȢ. ȀȡĮIJȚțȒ ȠȡȖȐȞȦıȘ, țȠȚȞȦȞȚțȒ įȠȝȒ, Vol. I, Athens 1988, pp. 630–40; J. F. Haldon, “Some Aspects of the Byzantine Military Technology from the Sixth to the Tenth Centuries,” Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 1 (1975), pp. 11–47; T. G. Kolias, “Ǿ ʌȠȜİȝȚțȒ IJİȤȞȠȜȠȖȓĮ IJȦȞ ǺȣȗĮȞIJȚȞȫȞ,” ǻȦįȫȞȘ 181 (1989), pp. 17–23 (article: pp. 17–41); G. T. Dennis, Three Byzantine Military Treatises [CFHB 25], Dumbarton Oaks, Washington DC 1985, pp. 56-58. For the Byzantine army in Egypt, see B. Palme, “The Imperial Presence: Government and Army,” in R. S. Bagnall (ed.), Egypt in the Byzantine World 300–700, Cambridge 2007, pp. 244–70; A. Jördens, “The Roman Army in Egypt,” in C. Riggs (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Roman Egypt, Oxford 2012, p. 69 (article: pp. 68–82). For the Arab army, see A. R. Zaky, “Medieval Arab Arms,” in R. Elgood (ed.), Islamic Arms and Armour, London 1979, pp. 202–12; D. C. Nicolle, Early Medieval Islamic Arms and Armour, Caseres, Spain: Instituto de Estudios Sobre Armas Antiquas, 1976. 24 Karayannopoulos, ǿıIJȠȡȓĮ IJȠȣ ǺȣȗĮȞIJȚȞȠȪ ȀȡȐIJȠȣȢ, p. 630. Karayannopoulos’ book is mainly based on the Codex Theodosianus, while Palme extensively uses the papyrological evidence as well as the Notitia Dignitatum.

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on the southern borders of Egypt.25 There is no reference in any source to any such federati serving in northern Egypt at the time of the Arab invasion. Al-WƗqidƯ reports that the Byzantines asked the Nubian federati of southern Egypt to help them against the Arab invading army, but they refused because they were engaged in a war against the Blemmyes.26 The typical pattern in the first part of ‘Amr’s expedition is his swift march through the desert to besiege the Byzantine castles until they surrendered after brief battles. Thus, following the traditional inland route, ‘Amr’s army invaded Egypt from al-‘ArƯsh (Rhinocoloura) and headed towards the important port of Pelusium (Faram’Ɨ), north of modern Suez, which fell to the Arabs after a month-long siege. Then ‘Amr proceeded towards Bilbays (ancient ĭȑȜȕȘȢ and modern Qantara), the key town on the way to Babylon (Miৢr) which fell into his hands after another month of siege. Now, the way was open towards the gates of the strongly fortified Babylon.27 While most of the Arabic sources mention the numerical superiority of the Byzantine defenders in contrast to ‘Amr’s invading army whose number at this stage is reported to be no more than 3500 or 400028, they also report the brave resistance of the Byzantine soldiers guarding the castles.29

 25

B. Hendrickx, “The Border Troops of the Roman-Byzantine Southern Egyptian Limes: Problems and Remarks on the Role of the African and Black African Military Units,” Ekklesiastikos Pharos 94 (2012), pp. 95–194; V. Christides, “Adventures in the Sixth Century Red Sea: The Nubian Soldiers who never Arrived,” Graeco-Africana et Afro-Byzantina, Proceedings of the International Conference on Graeco-African and Afro-Byzantine Studies at the University of Johannesburg (October 27–November 1, 2014), ed. Thekla Sansaridou-Hendrickx and Benjamin Hendrickx, Johannesburg 2016, pp. 68–79. 26 Hendrickx and Christides, see note 25 above. 27 Ibn ‘Abd al-ণakam, Futnj‫ ۊ‬Mi‫܈‬r, pp. 58–59. It should be noted that ‘Amr applied the same military tactics in the Arab conquest of Libya. Thus, moving from Alexandria in 22/642, he conquered Barqa and, by passing the fortified towns of Apollonia Sozusa (Snjs), Paraetonium (MarsƗ Ma৬rnjত), and Ptolemais (৫ulmay৬a) reached Tauchira (Tukra). In the following second expedition he appeared in front of the gates of Tripoli; see V. Christides, “৫arabulus al-Gharb,” Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., X (1998), p. 212 (article: pp. 212–13). 28 Ibn ‘Abd al-ণakam, Futnj‫ ۊ‬Mi‫܈‬r, pp. 58–59; BalƗdhurƯ, Futnj‫ ۊ‬al-BuldƗn, text p. 298, trans. p. 335. 29 See for example MaqrƯzƯ, Khi‫ܒ‬a‫ܒ‬, p. 542, who reports that in the battle of FaramƗ’ the Byzantine army “resisted bravely” for a month. Unfortunately, we know little about the guards of the frontier castles, as J. Sotto Chica reports, “Los soldatos que defendían dichas fortalezas, torres y ciudades, los kastrophylakes, han

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The question which is next raised is how we can explain the defeat of the large Byzantine forces in Egypt by the small number of ‘Amr’s lightly equipped army.

The Byzantines’ Defense in Egypt vs. the Arabs. Weaponry and Military Strategy. Poor Byzantine Military and Political Leadership. Attitude of the Local People It should be noted, in general, that there were no great differences between the Byzantine and Arab weaponry at the time of the Arab invasion of Egypt.30 For both parties the backbone of the army was the infantry and light cavalry in contrast to the heavy cavalry in later times.31 Likewise the majority of the soldiers in both armies were lightly armed although a shock troop of elite soldiers was also included.32 Actually, the Arab soldiers were trained as both cavalry and infantry. Thus, when ‘Amr’s horse was killed in the battle of Nikiu, he continued fighting on foot.33 Since the Arabs used bows extensively, their soldiers were mainly archers whether infantry or cavalry.34 A remarkable practice at this period was that the Arab archers shot from a kneeling position (Fig. 1).35 At this early period the Arab cavalry archers did not have the skill to launch their arrows from the saddle without halting or dismounting; however they already applied the practice of karr wa farr, i.e. rapid attack

 recibido poca atención de los historiadores,” in “Egipto, los árabes y la conquista de la Libia marmárica, Pentápolis y Tripolitania. 642–698,” p. 27. 30 D. Nicolle, The Armies of Islam 7th -11th Centuries, London 1982, repr. 1988, p. 12; Idem, “Byzantine and Islamic Arms and Armour; Evidence for Mutual Influence,” Graeco-Arabica 4 (1991), pp. 327–50. 31 For the early Byzantine army and armor see note 23 above. 32 T. G. Kolias, “Ǿ ʌȠȜİȝȚțȒ IJİȤȞȠȜȠȖȓĮ IJȦȞ ǺȣȗĮȞIJȚȞȫȞ», p. 18; for the armed cavalry of the West, see J. F. Verbruggen, The Art of Warfare in Western Europe during the Middle Ages from the Eighth Century to 1340, Amsterdam – New York – Oxford 1977; Timothy Newark, Medieval Warfare, London 1979, pp. 34-35; O. Gamber, “Kataphrakten, Clibanarier, Normanreiter,” Jahrbuch der Kunsthistorischen Sammlungen in Wien 64 (1968), pp. 7–44. 33Ibn ‘Abd al-ণakam, Futnj‫ ۊ‬Mi‫܈‬r, p. 175; MaqrƯzƯ, Khi‫ܒ‬a‫ܒ‬, p. 312. 34It should be noted that the Arabs wore long turbans covering not only their head but even their neck and chin, excellent protection against the sun and moreover against the dust of the desert; see A. B. Hoffmeyer, Military Equipment in the Byzantine Manuscript of Scylitzes, Granada 1966, p. 72. 35 D. Nicolle and A. McBride, Armies of the Muslim Conquest, London 1993, p. 37, pl. A2.

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and withdrawal.36 As pointed out by Hill, above all the Arabs excelled in mobility.37 The Arab cavalry covered extensive areas, moving quickly on camels which were used as pack animals and only mounted their horses when they reached the battlefield. Whereas the mobility of the Arab army played a major role in its rapid advance in the initial stage of the invasion of Egypt, the excellent coordination between the caliph ‘Umar and ‘Amr also greatly enhanced the army’s stability. It is the present author’s view that the relationship between ‘Amr and ‘Umar, as it emerges from the accounts of the Arabic sources, was dominated by remarkable realism. Leaving aside some exaggerated statements by certain Arab authors reporting ‘Amr’s blind obedience to the caliph ‘Umar,38 we can understand that ‘Amr demonstrated a careful policy of acting independently to deal with the practical conditions he encountered while remaining subordinate to ‘Umar’s leadership. Modern historians have extensively discussed the so-called problem of “strategy of operational centralization,” i.e. the adherence of ‘Amr to a pre-conceived strategic plan by ‘Umar at the expense of his own autonomy.39 While one cannot always take the Arabic sources at face value, it is the present author’s view that one should take into consideration both ‘Amr’s actions described in these sources and the general rules of warfare. A commander in the battlefield, no matter what instructions he has received from his high command, usually employs his own practical military strategy. During the first stage of his expedition, ‘Amr wisely avoided any attacks against the well fortified towns. ‘Amr’s arrival in Umm Dunayn, at the gates of Babylon, marks the climax of his expedition. There, he faced the bulk of the Byzantine army in a well fortified city which he could not overcome with his reduced resources. His subsequent action reveals the close relationship he had

 36

Nicolle and McBride, Armies of the Muslim Conquest, p. 19. 37D. R. Hill, “The Role of the Camel and the Horse in the Early Arab Conquests,” in V. J. Parry and M. E. Yapp (eds.), War, Technology and Society in the Middle East, London 1975, pp. 41–42 (article: pp. 32–43). 38 ৫abarƯ, Ta’rƯkh al-rusul wa’ l mulnjk, p. 164, states that ‘Amr sent a message to the Byzantines saying “above me there is a commander without whose consent I cannot do anything…” 39 A. Noth, “Der Charakter der ersten grossen Sammlungen von Nachrichten,” Der Islam 47 (1971), pp. 168–99; F. McGraw Donner, “Centralized Authority and Military Autonomy in the Early Islamic Conquests,” in A. Cameron (ed.), The Byzantine and Early Islamic Near East III. States, Resources and Armies, Princeton 1995, pp. 350–54 (article: pp. 337–60).

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secured with the caliph. He asked and received from ‘Umar a reinforcement of men led by Zubayr, 12.000 according to BalƗdhurƯ or 4.000 according to John of Nikiu.40 A detailed description of the continuation of ‘Amr’s campaign in Egypt lies far beyond the scope of the present article. Only two aspects will be discussed, i.e. the first, a laconic reference to the Arab conquest of Babylon and the second, a broader discussion of ‘Amr’s unsuccessful effort to overcome Fayynjm before the conquest of Babylon. These two historical events were selected to illustrate ‘Amr’s twofold strategies, the first lay in his tacit cooperation with the caliph ‘Umar and the second lay in his freedom to use his own initiative. The most important achievement of ‘Amr’s expedition in Egypt was the conquest of Babylon after his victory over the Byzantine army in an open field some distance from Babylon in July 640 AD.41 It is an excellent example of a well-balanced cooperation between the general and his caliph. ‘Amr had the flexibility to use his own initiative while maintaining his submission to ‘Umar’s authority. It is during the siege of Babylon that we observe that ‘Amr could occasionally exercise full autonomy; while waiting to obtain reinforcements from the caliph ‘Umar, he ventured the risky attack on the strongly fortified town of Fayynjm. ‘Amr’s activities in this assault appear somewhat obscure in the Arabic sources which confuse this attempt with his later second siege and successful conquest of Fayynjm following the fall of Babylon.42 From the combined information in the Chronicle of John of Nikiu43 and the epic romance Futnj‫ ۊ‬al-BahnasƗ44 we learn that ‘Amr undertook the unsuccessful attempt to conquer this city located in the southern province of Arcadia. Fayynjm was one of the best fortified towns of Egypt and was also protected by a force of mounted archers under general Ioannes who had encamped by the Nile River. ‘Amr’s army failed to demolish the walls of the city and was forced to retreat and withdrew in the desert.45 This was ‘Amr’s only minor defeat as a result of initiating an attack. Thus, it is clear that ‘Amr was not forced to follow only specific instructions by ‘Umar, but he could readily undertake spontaneous maneuvers. Finally, ‘Amr’s expedition ended with the gradual conquest of the whole of Egypt,

 40

BalƗdhurƯ, Futnj‫ ۊ‬al-BuldƗn, p. 338; Chronicle of John of Nikiu, p. 181. 41 Butler, The Arab Conquest of Egypt, p. 235; Sijpesteijn, “The Arab Conquest of Egypt and the beginning of Muslim Rule,” p. 441. 42 Butler, The Arab Conquest of Egypt, pp. 221–30. 43 Chronicle of John of Nikiu, pp. 178–79. 44 Futnj‫ ۊ‬al-BahnasƗ, pp. 172–73; El-Tahir, ǺȣȗĮȞIJȚȞȠ-ȃȠȣȕȚțȐ, pp. 72–73. 45 See notes 44 above.

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by adjusting his strategy according to the local circumstances rather than following a well-prepared plan.

‘Amr’s Rivals: General Theodorus, Chief Military Commander; Patriarch Cyrus, Supreme Religious, Political and Military Leader of Egypt, vs. the Aged Byzantine Emperor Heraclius While ‘Amr stands out in the Arabic sources as a model of a heroic and prudent champion, Cyrus, his chief adversary, is usually ignored. Among the modern historians, MazzƗwƯ portrays Cyrus as “a shadowy figure, cruel and vacillating.”46 Butler mainly characterizes him as “an implacable enemy of the Copts,” and especially their patriarch Benjamin.47 True, as Butler remarks, from the moment Cyrus was appointed patriarch and viceroy of Egypt, Benjamin went into hiding. For years he was forced to wander around the countryside of Egypt.48 Yet, it should be taken into consideration that this difficult task of governing Egypt was imposed on Cyrus, and his absolute dependence on the aged Byzantine emperor Heraclius (610-641 AD) weighed heavily on him and dominated his policies. As viceroy of Egypt, he was in charge of the patriarchate of Alexandria and simultaneously he was the highest military authority. The Christian sources describe him as wearing a red slipper on one foot and a monk’s sandal on the other, symbolizing his military and religious rank.49 There can be little doubt that Cyrus’s hatred of Benjamin was intense, but it should not be unduly magnified.50 Most probably Cyrus, whose presence may have been alluded to by the controversial term “Muqawqis,”51 was in Babylon at the time it was being besieged by ‘Amr (July 640), but having

 46

M. MazzƗwƯ, “The Conquest of Alexandria according to the Early Arab Historians: A Critical Appraisal,” p. 170. 47 Butler, The Arab Conquest of Egypt, p. 176. 48 Butler, The Arab Conquest of Egypt, p. 176. 49 The Seventh Century in the West-Syrian Chronicles, Dionysius of Tel Ma‫ۊ‬rƝ, Text no. 13: Dionysius Reconstituted, p. 158. 50 For a discussion of Cyrus’ activities see V. Christides, “Religious and Social Rivalries in Byzantine Egypt on the Eve of and during the Arab Conquest (ca 639640 CE – ca 645-646 CE),” Pharos Journal of Theology 97 (2016), p. 3 (article: pp. 1–11). 51 For this controversial term which appears in the Arabic sources, see C. Martínez Carrasco, “Al-Muqawqas and the Islamic Conquest of Egypt. A New Proposal of Interpretation,” p. 501.

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no training in military matters, he could not assume responsibility for its defense. The entire military responsibility for the Byzantines’ defeat in Babylon should be rather attributed to the chief commander of the Byzantine army, Theodorus. Butler portrays him as “totally incompetent as general who was not wanting in courage or fighting spirit.”52 Totally incompetent he was not, but he completely lacked any experience with the Arabs’ military strategy, and his decision to challenge them in the open field (far from Babylon), which was the most suitable ground for the Arabs, was a fatal error. It is evident that the Arabs’ invasion of Egypt was not a spontaneous campaign initiated by ‘Amr but rather a collective decision of the caliph ‘Umar and his advisors, including ‘Amr. This policy was accompanied by ‘Amr’s independent military actions which were typically confirmed by the caliph’s consent. In contrast to ‘Amr’s successful blend of independence and obedience to the higher authority of the caliph, the behavior of Cyrus, the viceroy of Egypt, towards the Byzantine emperor Heraclius was characterized by initial blind obedience which was gradually changed to insubordination and autonomous decisions. Yet, Cyrus’ behavior stemmed from a realistic approach to the situation. He obviously understood that the Byzantines, being far away from their military base in Constantinople, could not employ any aggressive policy, especially after their defeat in Babylon. The only solution was to conclude a humiliating treaty with the Arabs, which was finally accomplished by Heraclius’ successors after the Emperor’s death.53 Another factor in ‘Amr’s successful endeavor was the attitude of the local population. According to Nicolle, it varied considerably from region to region,54 but more plausible is Butler’s view that the Egyptians were reluctant to cooperate with the Arabs until the fall of Babylon (July 640) and that thereafter they readily assisted them.55 John Bishop of Nikiu explicitly reports that it was only after the Arab conquest of Babylon, that the Egyptians openly collaborated with the Arabs, helping them to construct bridges and provide boats for the transportation of the Arab army on the Nile.56 While Butler’s argument concerning the attitude of the

 52

Butler, The Arab Conquest of Egypt, p. 288. 53 D. Missiou, The Will of Heraclius I and the Crisis of 641, Thessaloniki 1985, p. 232 (in Greek). 54 Nicolle and McBride, Armies of the Muslim Conquest, p. 13. 55 Butler, The Arab Conquest of Egypt, p. 295. 56 Chronicle of John of Nikiu, p. 181.

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Egyptian people seems plausible, his assumption that the Byzantine army in Egypt was composed of non-Egyptians cannot be accepted,57 since it is now clear that the Byzantine army which fought against ‘Amr was mainly composed of Egyptian soldiers with a prominent participation of Nubians.58 Likewise, his remarks regarding the social structure of the local population are conjectural and much research is still needed to be conducted on this subject.59 To wrap up this discussion, Sijpsteijn’s remark that certain Arab tribes allied with ‘Amr’s army is worth mentioning.60 Nevertheless, their participation in the conquest of Egypt was of minor importance in contrast to the major role the Arab tribes played in the conquest of Syria.61 To sum up, the success of the Arabs’ conquest of Egypt should be ascribed to their solid military unity, the excellent relationship between Caliph ‘Umar and General ‘Amr bn. al-‘Ɩৢ and their religious fervor. In contrast, the failure of the Byzantines was caused by their political and religious disunity, inferior military leadership and inefficient military preparedness for a desert war.

Addendum After I sent my article to the printer’s, two relevant articles appeared: (A) Phil Booth, “The Muslim Conquest of Egypt Reconsidered,” Travaux et Mémoires 17 (2013), pp. 639–70. A short review of this article by the present author appeared in the 12th volume of Graeco-Arabica (2017), pp. 735–37. (B) `Sergio Ferdinandi, “La difesa dell’Egitto bizantino,” L’Africa romana 20.2 (2015), pp. 1259–77. In this article there is certain useful information about the fortification of Byzantine Egypt; it

 57

Butler, The Arab Conquest of Egypt, p. 268: “How far the local militia was composed of Copts and how far of Roman troops is not known.” 58 See above notes 23, 24, 25. 59 Butler, The Arab Conquest of Egypt, p. 476, note 1: “The fact is that Benjamin was now patriarch and leader of the native Egyptian community, as Cyrus had been patriarch and leader of the Roman-Egyptian community.” 60 Sijpesteijn, “The Arab Conquest of Egypt and the beginning of Muslim Rule,” p. 439. 61 R. Dussaud, La pénétration des Arabes en Syrie avant l’Islam, Paris 1955; R. Haddad, “La phonétique de l’Arabe chrétien vers 700,” in P. Canivet and J.-P. Rey-Coquais (eds.), Actes du Colloque International Lyon-Maison de l’Orient Méditerranéen, Institut du Monde Arabe, Paris 11-15 September 1990, Damascus 1992, p. 159 (article: pp. 159–64).

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also includes excellent photographs of the Byzantine defense buildings. Unfortunately, little is added about the Arab conquest of Egypt. John of Nikiu, the best relevant source, is hardly mentioned, and the Arabic sources are completely absent. Moreover, nothing is said about the second decisive Arab invasion of Egypt in ca. 645.62 Moreover, in my article “The First Arab Raids on the Maghreb in the Seventh Century,” to appear in the forthcoming 13th volume of GraecoArabica, there is a special discussion on ‘Amr’s military tactics which were improved by ‘AbdullƗh bn. Sa‘d abi ৡarত in his expedition in the Maghreb in ca. 645.

62For



the second Arab conquest of Alexandria, see V. Christides, “Sea vs. Land: The Second Arab Conquest of Alexandria (ca AH 25/ AD 645-646),” Ekklesiastikos Pharos 94, N.S. 23 (2012), pp. 375–96. 

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Fig. 1. Imaginary depiction of Arab infantry soldiers (7th c. AD) by D. Nicolle and A. McBride, in Armies of the Muslim Conquest, London 1993, p. 25, pl. A. Courtesy photo.

AD AEGYPTI EXTREMA CONTENDI: EGYPTIAN MONASTICISM IN SULPICIUS SEVERUS’ DIALOGUES M. SÁGHY DEPARTMENT OF MEDIEVAL STUDIES, CEU BUDAPEST, ROMANIA

“Tell us, if you please, how the faith of Christ is flourishing in the East; what peace the saints enjoy; what are the customs of the monks; and with what signs and miracles Christ is working in his servants” – Sulpicius Severus asks his friend Postumianus freshly returned from a three-year monastic intelligence mission in the Orient at the outset of his Dialogues.1 Postumianus answers with a question: are the priests in Gaul the same as he had known them before his departure? These questions reveal the Dialogues’ ascetic agenda and polemical purpose. Written at the climax of the crisis of the ascetic movement, Severus’ work probes into, and argues for, the viability of asceticism in the world. Not unlike the contemporary authors of the Historia Monachorum in Aegypto2 and the Historia Lausiaca,3 Severus was interested in the sustainability of the ascetic

1 Dialogues I, 2, 1. Critical edition: Sulpice Sévère, Gallus. Dialogues sur les ‘vertus’ de Saint Martin, Jacques Fontaine (ed.), Paris: éditions du Cerf 2006 (hereafter cited as Gallus); English translation by Alexander Roberts, Sulpicius Severus, Dialogues, Book I, 2, 1, in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Vol. 11., eds. Philip Schaff-Henry Wace, Buffalo, New York 1894. http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/3503.htm last accessed 15 February 2017. Hereafter cited as Dialogues. 2 Historia monachorum in Egypto, ed. A.-J. Festugière, Bruxelles: Société des Bollandistes 1961; A. Cain, The Greek Historia Monachorum in Aegypto. Monastic Hagiography in the Fourth Century, Oxford 2016. 3 E. D. Hunt, “Palladius of Helenopolis: a Party and its Supporters in the Church of the Late Fourth Century,” Journal of Theological Studies 24 (1973), pp. 456-80; C. Rapp, “Palladius, Lausus and the Historia Lausiaca,” in C. Sode and S. Takács (eds.), Novum Millennium. Studies on Byzantine History and Culture, Aldershot:

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achievement in hard times. In the late fourth century, the Origenist debate and the Priscillianist heresy undermined the credibility of the “ascetic revolution,” driving a wedge between bishops and monks, between institutional authority and personal charisma. In Egypt, Theophilus of Alexandria persecuted Origenism; in Palestine, Jerome fought the laxity of the clergy and the monks; in Gaul, the episcopate disapproved of the austerity of Martinian monasticism. Under these circumstances, sometime in 400, Severus sent Postumianus on a reconnaissance trip in the East. Postumianus’ romantic update on monastic virtue flourishing in the desert—anchorites eating heaven-sent bread or the roots of plants, monks healing baby lions, hermits dining with she-wolves, domesticated lions enjoying a date-based diet, monks cultivating lush vegetable gardens—is no “eyewitness report” from Egypt, but a fictionalized account in the service of Severus’ agenda to demonstrate the superiority of Martinian monasticism—that is, asceticism lived in the world—over desert asceticism. Urban monasticism and desert asceticism represent two opposite extremes on the spectrum of religious withdrawal. It is not the “remotest parts of Egypt” that Postumianus allegedly revisits, but extreme, “organic,” “ecological” forms of asceticism. This paper argues that Severus purposefully represents Egyptian eremitism as pristine and paradisiac in contrast with Martin’s community-building, interactive missionary asceticism in town and countryside. The comparison of these two types of sequela Christi will prove the preeminence of Martin’s propositum: conquering Satan by living the ascetic life in the world. In what follows, I will first briefly summarize the historical context and the storyboard of the Dialogues and then examine Severus’ “mythical,” Edenic construction of Egyptian monasticism.

The Dialogues Sulpicius Severus, a cultivated Christian lawyer turned ascetic, composed his Gallus or Dialogues on the virtues of Saint Martin around 404 A. D. on his country estate at Primuliacum (near modern Toulouse in southern Aquitaine), where he withdrew in 394 following his conversion inspired by Bishop Martin of Tours. Severus devoted his considerable talent to the portrayal of Martin, the monk-bishop in his Life of Saint Martin4 and

Ashgate 1999, pp. 279–89; D. S. Katos, Palladius of Helenopolis: The Origenist Advocate, Oxford 2011. 4 Sulpice Sévère, Vie de Saint Martin, ed. J. Fontaine, I-III, Paris: éditions du Cerf, 1967–1969 (hereafter: VM).

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promoted Martinian monasticism in his Dialogues. The Dialogues is an intriguing work merging classical villa-dialogue with the late antique travelogue and hagiographical miracle-collection.5 As the sequel to the Vita Martini, the Dialogues expands the horizon of monasticism from Gaul to Egypt and Palestine and thus reveals the East-West ascetic interaction. Despite its importance, the ideological implications, intertextual and rhetorical aspects of the work have yet to be fully explored in scholarship.6 Imitating Ciceronian models, the two-day dialogue is set in the rural villa, the hub of philosophical conversation,7 as well as of the Christianization of the countryside,8 where Sulpicius Severus chats with his friends, the aristocratic layman Postumianus and the monk Gallus. Is their encounter historical or fictitious? The fact that the interlocutors in the Ciceronian dialogues are real persons favors the historicity of Severus’ characters, but neither Postumianus nor Gallus has yet been identified.9

5

For the argument that these innovative hybrid compositions of monastic hagiography in which multiple literary forms work together in synergy represents a new genre, see Cain, The Greek Historia Monachorum in Aegypto, ch. 3. 6 Bibliography in Fontaine, Gallus, op. cit.; see particularly P. L. Schmidt, “Zur Typologie und Literarisierung des frühchristlichen lateinischen Dialogs,” in M. Fuhrmann (ed.), Christianisme et formes littéraires de I'antiquité tardive en Occident. Geneva 1977, pp. 101–80; C. Stancliffe, Saint Martin and His Hagiographer. History and Miracle in Sulpicius Severus, Oxford 1983; R. J. Goodrich, Contextualizing Cassian: Aristocrats, Asceticism and Reformation in Fifth-Century Gaul, Oxford 2007; idem, “Vir maxime catholicus: Sulpicius Severus’ Use and Abuse of Jerome in the Dialogi,” Journal of Ecclesiastical History 58 (2010), pp. 189–210; Z. Yuzwa, “To Live by the Example of Angels: Dialogue, Imitation and Identity in Sulpicius Severus’ Gallus,” Studia Patristica, Leuven 2012, pp. 1–7. 7 Jean-Marie André, L’otium dans la vie morale et intellectuelle romaine des origines à l’époque augustéenne, Paris: PUF 1966; B. P. McGuire, Friendship and Community: The Monastic Experience, 350–1250, Kalamazoo, Mich. 2010. 8 K. Bowes, “Christianity and the Rural Home,” Journal of Early Christian Studies 15/2 (2007), pp. 143–80. 9 Fontaine, Gallus, p. 40; P. L. Schmidt, “Zur Typologie und Literarisierung des fruhchristlichen lateinischen Dialogs,” pp. 121–24 calls it a “hagiographische Dialog.” An orthodox Christian from the West called Postumianus is known as praefectus praetorio Orientis in 383 (Greg. Naz. Epist. 173; Cod. Theod. 9, 42, 10; Cod. Theod. 16, 5, 12. After returning to the West, Postumianus was entrusted from 395 to 396 with a legation from the Senate of the city of Rome to the Emperor (Symmachus Ep. 6, 22, 3; 6, 26, 2). See A. Gutsfeld, “Postumianus,” in H. Cancik and H. Schneider (eds.), Brill’s New Pauly, Antiquity.

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Real or fictitious, both personages are mouthpieces to Severus’ views. The tone of the conversation oscillates between the lively and the lethargic: the friends lament the fall of monasticism in Gaul following Martin’s death and the persecution of ascetics all over the Roman Empire, but enthuse over Martin’s example and miracles. The Dialogues begin with Postumianus’ news on the state of monasticism in the East from Alexandria to Bethlehem and from Nitria to the Red Sea: this will be in the focus of my paper. At the end of his report, the trio is not impressed. They conclude that Martin’s asceticism and wonder-working power surpass the virtue of the desert fathers: “For, although you certainly related lofty deeds, I really heard nothing from your lips (may I say it, without offense to these holy men), in which Martin was inferior to any one of them.”10

And Postumianus to declare: “I, indeed, as long as I live, and retain my senses, will ever celebrate the monks of Egypt: I will praise the anchorites, I will admire the eremites; but I will place Martin in a position of his own.”11

It turns out that the desert fathers themselves consider Martin a model and emulate on Martin’s virtues. They are immersed in the reading of Severus’ book and require a sequel: “[The Life of Saint Martin] has passed through Egypt, Nitria, the Thebaid, and the whole of the regions of Memphis. I found it being read by a certain old man in the desert and after I told him that I was your intimate friend, this commission was given me both by him and many other brethren, that, if I should ever again visit this country and find you well, I should constrain you to supply those particulars which you stated in your book you had passed over respecting the virtues of the sainted man.”12

Not only does the Dialogues claim that the monks of Egypt uphold Martin, the ascetic bishop of Tours (or, more precisely, Sulpicius’ Vita Martini) as an inspiration, but it also concludes that Martin surpassed both Antony and Pachomius in ascetic vigor despite his “compromised” lifestyle as a bishop living in the world. It is Gallus’ turn to recall Martin’s

http://dx.doi.org/10.1163/1574-9347_bnp_e1006360 Last accessed on 26 March 2017. The eventual relationship of Severus’ friend to this Postumianus is unknown. 10 Dialogues 1, 24. 11 Dialogues I, 26. 12 Dialogues 1, 23.

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miracles. The two reports—Postumianus’ from Egypt and Gallus’ from Gaul—complement each other and form a two-winged “diptych” of the virtues of Eastern and Western ascetics. The next day of the conversation—opened by the morning salutatio of Martin’s disciples who press in to hear Gallus’ account on Martin, while others throng outside the villa waiting for admission—is entirely devoted to Martin’s virtue.13 Gallus resumes his narrative of Martin’s wonderworking power to an enlarged (all male!) audience of “fans” coming from all walks of life: Refrigerius, Evagrius, Aper, Sabbatius, Agricola, Ætherius, Aurelius presbyters, Calupio deacon and an unnamed subdeacon, the lieutenant Eucherius and the consularis Celsus. These men represent the well-connected Sulpicius’ dependency networks, the Roman ecclesiastic and administrative élite that admires Martin. With Martin gone, the bishops of Gaul are actively opposed to asceticism, but Gallus’ speech encourages his ascetic audience. The interlocutors formulate harsh invectives against the clergy who live an “un-Christian” life. At the end of the day, Sulpicius hosts a cocktail party and commissions Postumianus to return to the East to spread Martin’s fame: “The day is gone, Postumianus; we must rise up and at the same time some refreshment is due to these so zealous listeners. And as to Martin, you ought not to expect that there is any limit to one talking about him: he extends too far to be comprised fully in any conversation. In the meantime, you will convey to the East the things you have now heard about that famous man; and as you retrace your steps to your former haunts, and pass along by various coasts, places, harbors, islands, and seas, see that you spread among the peoples the name and glory of Martin.”14

The Dialogues thus runs full circle from East to West and West to East. The miracles of Martin, as narrated by Gallus and transmitted by Postumianus constitute Sulpicius’ continuation of the Life of Martin and his message to the the desert fathers, who alone are able to fully appreciate Martin’s glory. In Gaul, Martin’s memory is obliterated, his example is unfollowed: Martinian monasticism finds its best audience in Egypt. The handful of Martinians in Gaul seeks to establish Martin’s international fame because of their founder’s contested legacy at home.

13 14

Dialogues 3, 1, 5. Dialogues 3, 17.

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Urban Asceticism in Alexandria and in Bethlehem: Controversy and Crisis Who are the Egyptian ascetics with whom the Gallic brethren communicate? Do Sulpicius and Postumianus know any monks in the East? Whom did the western pilgrim meet along the Nile? Postumianus arrives in Alexandria to start his pilgrimage to the eastern ascetics. Throughout antiquity, the Hellenic metropolis constituted a separate entity in Egypt culturally as well as administratively.15 Postumianus, however, passes over linguistic, ethnic and cultural differences and conflicts and focuses on the Origenist controversy that he sees as a strife between ascetics and the patriarch: “There we found a disgraceful strife raging between the bishops and monks, the cause or occasion of which was that the priests were known when assembled together often to have passed decrees in crowded synods to the effect that no one should read or possess the books of Origen.”16

Postumianus’ understanding of the conflict—informed by his own experience in Gaul—is dominated by the bishop-monk dichotomy. In his opinion, the monks are persecuted by the bishop and the ascetics have his sympathy. Strangely, however, instead of contacting the monks of Scetis or Nitria or to the urban ascetics in Alexandria, he pays a visit at the patriarch: “When I came to Alexandria, I found that city in ferment from disturbances connected with the matter in question. The bishop, indeed, of that place received me very kindly, and in a better spirit than I expected, and even endeavored to retain me with him. But I was not at all inclined to settle there, where a recent outbreak of ill-will had resulted in a destruction of the brethren. For, although perhaps it may seem that they ought to have obeyed the bishops, yet such a multitude of persons, all living in an open confession of Christ, ought not for that reason to have been persecuted, especially by bishops.”17

Postumianus’ commentary on the conflict is a masterpiece of noninformation. No scoops, no concrete data, no name-dropping—he does not even name his host, Theophilus of Alexandria—only a general comment on “the destruction of the breathren.” The studiously neutral reference to 15 W. V. Harris and G. Ruffini (eds.), Ancient Alexandria between Egypt and Greece, Leiden 2004. 16 Dialogues 1, 6. 17 Dialogues 1, 7, 5.

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the long, bitter and complicated war that broke out in 375 partly over the legacy of Origen and mostly over the relationship between episcopal authority and monastic obedience reflects Sulpicius’ awareness that he had expressed Origenist views about Satan’s redemption in his Life of Saint Martin that now came to be condemned. Thus, the text presents a very “objective” Postumianus who seeks to measure up Origen’s worth by himself rather than following episcopal authority. Without entering into the intricacies of the Origenist controversy,18 a recapitulation of the main events might be helpful to understand what is meant by the “destruction of the brethren” and by the reconsideration of Origen’s teachings. In the early years of his patriarchate, Theophilus of Alexandria had maintained good relations with the Origenist monks of Scetis known as the “Tall Brothers,” of whom he appointed Isidore to the treasurer of the patriarchate. In 395, however, as a result of a quarrel with Isidore over money, Theophilus abruptly changed his attitude towards the followers of Origen and switched from an incorporeal conception of God to an anthropomorphic understanding of the divinity. Around the same time, he sent Isidore to Palestine to mediate a dispute between Bishop John of Jerusalem and Jerome, urging the latter to respect episcopal authority. The mediation failed and the patriarch grew irritated by Jerome’s insubordination. In 399, Theophilus penned a pastoral letter targeting the monks that condemned Origen (mostly for having taught the redemption of the devil), obliged them to subordinate themselves to the bishop, and called their disobedience tantamount to heresy. The letter crafted a new image of the patriarch, casting himself as the embodiment of the chief monastic virtues of obedience, humility and prayer.19 The tension between Theophilus and Isidore kept growing and ended in slander and violence. When Isidore turned to the monks of Nitria for protection, Theophilus turned against them: at the synod of Alexandria in 400, he had Origenism condemned and, at the head of a gang of armed servants, physically attacked the monks, burnt down their huts and maltreated the captives. The monks of Scetis escaped to Palestine, the Tall Brothers proceeded to Constantinople to seek protection from Emperor Arcadius and Archbishop John Chrysostom. None of these dramatic events are narrated in Postumianus’ account. Nevertheless, his evocation of the Origenist controversy is significant. Postumianus hurries from the “cauldron of troubles” that is Alexandria to 18 E. A. Clark, The Origenist Controversy: The Cultural Construction of an Early Christian Debate, Princeton 1992. 19 K. Banev, Theophilus of Alexandria and the First Origenist Controversy: Rhetoric and Power, Oxford Early Christian Studies, New York-Oxford 2015.

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the “haven of peace” in Bethlehem: Jerome’s monastery. Palestine, however, was anything but peaceful at the time, and Jerome was at war with everybody, specifically with Bishop John of Jerusalem and with the monks of Melania and Rufinus’ Olivet monastery. There were two opposing parties: Theophilus of Alexandria’s party to which Jerome also adhered (“the Alexandrian group”) and Evagrius of Pontus and his disciples—Rufinus of Aquileia, Melania the Elder and Palladius—in Jerusalem (“the Jerusalem group”). The first group accused the second of Origenism. By that time, however, Origen was not simply an author: he had become a “discourse.”20 Postumianus felt uneasy at finding Jerome, once the follower of Origen, now condemning his master along with his former best friend Rufinus who remained faithful to him. Severus’ presentation of Jerome as a “most Catholic man, greatest expert of the sacred law” and free of Origenist error is, in Stancliffe’s words, “a masterly exercise in sitting on a fence, with Sulpicius’ refusing to identify with either party.”21 Severus belonged to Rufinus’ circle of friends. Yet not only does he curb his critique of Jerome’s sudden volte-face on Origen, but praises the ascetic scholar of Bethlehem22 to defend him against Vigilantius’ charges of Origenism.23 Through Jerome and Rufinus, the Origenist controversy became an incident in the relations between the Latin and Greek worlds. Origen became a touchstone for questions surrounding both doctrine and the management of doctrine through texts. Networks of friendship and enmity, support and rivalry, bound Palestine, Constantinople, Alexandria, and the Egyptian desert to Italy and North Africa in the penultimate Christian controversy (the last being the Pelagian debate) that still reflected the unity of Eastern and Western Christianity. Postumianus is silent about his personal encounter with Jerome and says nothing about the structure of his monasteries, besides a passing reference to the strict separation of male and female ascetics.24 However, he declares—perhaps as a critique of monasticism elsewhere and specifically in Gaul—that he would have preferred staying with Jerome for good. Instead of staying, he leaves his household, family and servants in Bethlehem and continues his fieldtrip alone into the Egyptian wilderness: 20

Clark, The Origenist Controversy. Stancliffe, Saint Martin and his Hagiographer, p. 309. 22 R. J. Goodrich, “Vir maxime catholicus: Sulpicius Severus’ Use and Abuse of Jerome in the Dialogi,” The Journal of Ecclesiastical History 58 (2010), pp. 189– 210. 23 Stancliffe, Saint Martin and his Hagiographer, p. 309. 24 Dialogues 1, 9. 21

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“I should have grudged departing even for the shortest time from so great a man. Handing over, then, and entrusting to him all my possessions and my whole family, which having followed me against my own inclination, kept me in a state of embarrassment, and thus being in a sort of way delivered from a heavy burden, and restored to freedom of action, I returned to Alexandria, and having visited the brethren there I set out from the place for upper Thebais, that is for the farthest off confines of Egypt.”25

Anachoretes along the Nile: an Edenic Idyll Postumianus’ first information about Egyptian monasticism that appears to be accurate refers to the ascetic compounds bordering the Nile: “Not far from the desert, and close to the Nile, there are numerous monasteries. For the most part, the monks there dwell together in companies of a hundred; and their highest rule is to live under the orders of their abbot, to do nothing by their own inclination, but to depend in all things on his will and authority. If it so happens that any of them form in their minds a lofty ideal of virtue, so as to wish to betake themselves to the desert to live a solitary life, they do not venture to act on this desire except with the permission of the abbot. In fact, this is the first of virtues in their estimation—to live in obedience to the will of another.”26

The description gives an idea of monastic sites set in between the river and the desert, without yielding geographical, toponymical or institutional data. The monasteries remain unnamed and unspecified, as if Postumianus’ purpose was to blur his trail rather than to specify the names of the places and persons he visited. In contrast with the opaque topography, the insight into the interior life of the monastic community seems more accurate. Obedience is key as all-powerful abbots’ rule over respectful monks. The commandment of obedience is illustrated by animal tales, such as the huge venomous asp and the two young monks. When they bring the beast home unharmed and feel proud about it, the abbot metes out their punishment for vainglory.27 From the monasteries along the Nile, Postumianus journeys inward towards the “fairyland” desert. First, he meets an old anchorite who, working the desert with his ox and watermill, transformed the infertile soil into a lush garden:

25

Dialogues 1, 9. Dialogues 1, 10. 27 Ibid. 26

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Ad Aegypti Extrema Contendi “I entered upon the nearest parts of the desert, about twelve miles from the Nile, having as my guide one of the brethren who was well acquainted with the localities, we arrived at the residence of a certain old monk who dwelt at the foot of a mountain. In that place, there was a well, which is a very rare thing in these regions. The monk had one ox, the whole labor of which consisted in drawing water by moving a machine worked with a wheel. This was the only way of getting at the water, for the well was said to be a thousand or more feet deep. There was also a garden there full of a variety of vegetables. This, too, was contrary to what might have been expected in the desert where, all things being dry and burnt up by the fierce rays of the sun produce not even the slenderest root of any plant. But the labor, which in common with his ox, the monk performed, as well as his own special industry, produced such a happy state of things to the holy man; for the frequent irrigation in which he engaged imparted such a fertility to the sand that we saw the vegetables in his garden flourishing and coming to maturity in a wonderful manner.”28

The desert is transformed into paradise by the steadfast work of the hermit helped by his obedient animal. On his way from Alexandria to the desert, Postumianus subversively contrasts civilization and nature, city and countryside. Classical civilization was essentially urban and regarded the rural countryside as uncouth. Monastic culture subverted the classical model and created an alternative society in the desert.29 The desert became a city, and from Postumianus’ account, it is clear that the old monk’s garden is a more civilized place than Alexandria or even Bethlehem. While the city is the stage of pride, rage and violence, in the desert, paradise is regained. While humans behave in the city like animals, “destroying the brethren,” animals behave like humans in the desert. The Edenic idyll of human-animal cooperation is reinforced by Postumianus’ charming musing about the harmonious cohabitation of humans, plants and wild animals, all created good for the benefit of the other: “The palm-tree […] is the only kind of tree found in the desert, and even these are rare, though they do occur. I am not sure whether this is owing to the wise foresight of former ages, or whether the soil naturally produces

28

Dialogues 1, 13. D. J. Chitty, The Desert a City: an Introduction to the Study of Egyptian and Palestinian Monasticism under the Christian Empire, Oxford 1966; C. Rapp, “Desert, City, and Countryside in the Early Christian Imagination,” Church History and Religious Culture 86 1/4 (2006), pp. 93–112. (Special Issue: The Encroaching Desert: Egyptian Hagiography and the Medieval West.); J. Day, R. Hakola, M. Kahlos, U. Tervahauta (eds.), Spaces in Late Antiquity–Cultural, Theological and Archaeological Perspectives, London 2016. 29

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them. It may indeed be that God, knowing beforehand that the desert was one day to be inhabited by the saints, prepared these things for his servants.”30

If the city is corrupt, so is the monastery. Disillusioned with coenobitism, Postumianus clearly values eremitism. He visits, almost like a pilgrim, the caves of Antony and Paul near the Red Sea. This is quite a trip from Alexandria or Bethlehem—some 500 miles—but nothing is said about the itinerary, the road, or the circumstances of the journey: “I visited two monasteries of St. Antony, which are at the present day occupied by his disciples. I also went to that place in which the most blessed Paul, the first of the eremites, had his abode. I saw the Red Sea and the ridges of Mount Sinai, the top of which almost touches heaven, and cannot, by any human effort, be reached. An anchorite was said to live somewhere within its recesses: and I sought long and much to see him, but was unable to do so. He had for nearly fifty years been removed from all human fellowship, and used no clothes, but was covered with bristles growing on his own body, while, by divine gift, he knew not of his own nakedness. As often as any pious men desired to visit him, making hastily for the pathless wilderness, he shunned all meeting with his kind. To one man only, about five years before my visit, he was said to have granted an interview and I believe that man obtained the favor through the power of his faith.”31

The hermit becomes a monument to visit and faith is presented as a precondition for being able to meet and to “see” the embodiment of Christian perfection.32 The monasteries of Antony and Paul are the only monastic compounds Severus mentions by name, possibly as a respectful nod to fellow monastic authors Athanasius of Alexandria and Jerome of Stridon. Not only does Postumianus prefers hermits to coenobites, he looks specifically for “deserter” monks, ascetics who left their communities to live by themselves: “Numbers of those persons live in the desert without any roofs over their heads, whom people call anchorites. They subsist on the roots of plants; they settle nowhere in any fixed place, lest they should frequently have men visiting them; wherever night compels them they choose their abode. Well, two monks from Nitria directed their steps towards a certain man 30

Dialogues 1, 13. Dialogues 1, 17. 32 G. Frank, “Miracles, Monks, and Monuments: The Historia Monachorum in Aegypto as Pilgrims‫ ތ‬Tales,” in D. Frankfurter (ed.), Pilgrimage and Holy Space in Late Antique Egypt, Leiden 1998, pp. 483–505. 31

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Ad Aegypti Extrema Contendi living in this style, and under these conditions. They did so, although they were from a very different quarter, because they had heard of his virtues, and because he had formerly been their dear and intimate friend, while a member of the same monastery.”33

Ascetic exodus is thus justified not only from a corrupt world, but also from the monastery disturbed and disrupted by dogmatic debates. Postumianus testifies of the process through which Egyptian monasticism is, romantically and distortedly, perceived by Western pilgrims as essentially eremitic—as opposed to the reality of great monastic compounds harboring thousands of monks and functioning as large centers of industrial production.34 Armed with faith and charity, hermits survive in the harshest conditions and domesticate wild animals: “Well, when we came up to that tree to which the kindness of our host conducted us, we there met with a lion, and on seeing it, both my guide and myself began to tremble, but the holy man went up to it without delay, while we, though in great terror, followed him. As if commanded by God, the beast modestly withdrew and stood gazing at us, while our friend, the monk, plucked some fruit hanging within easy reach on the lower branches. And, on his holding out his hand filled with dates, the monster ran up to him and received them as readily as any domestic animal could have done, and having eaten them, it departed.”35

If the Bible is the chief source of inspiration for monasticism, the Edenic type in Postumianus’ account is notably different from the animalhuman interaction registered in the Scriptures. As opposed to Jerome, who rewrites the story of the Prophet Elijah fed by raven-brought bread (1 Kings 17:6) in his Life of Saint Paul the Hermit,36 Postumianus records

33

Dialogues 1, 15. E. Wipszycka, “Les activités de production et la structure sociale des communautés monastiques égyptiennes,” in O. Delouis and M. MossakowskaGaubert (eds.), La vie quotidienne des moines en Orient et en Occident (IVe-IXe siècle), Le Caire 2015, pp. 57–69. 35 Dialogues 1, 13. 36 Jerome, Life of Paul the First Hermit 10, http://www.newadvent.org/ fathers/3008.htm las accessed 31 March 2017: “Thus conversing they noticed with wonder a raven which had settled on the bough of a tree, and was then flying gently down till it came and laid a whole loaf of bread before them. They were astonished, and when it had gone, See, said Paul the Lord truly loving, truly merciful, has sent us a meal. For the last sixty years I have always received half a loaf: but at your coming Christ has doubled his soldier's rations.” 34

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typical “desert father stories,” similar to the animal tales of the Historia monachorum in Aegypto or the Historia Lausiaca. Instead of exploiting the foundational Elijah-topos, Postumianus, then, represents a more contemporary, monastic uptake on the biblical register of human-animal cohabitation and may actually show the speed with which stories about the desert fathers—a new genre at the end of the fourth century—spread and fertilized the late antique literary world. As Lady Marchmain explains in Brideshead Revisited, “animals are always doing the oddest things in the lives of the saints. It's all part of the poetry, the Alice-in-Wonderland side, of religion.” Postumianus’ “monk-meets-beast” stories do sound like folktales, substantially reworked by learned monastic authors.37 The shewolf as ascetic dinner companion is a case in point: “We found another equally remarkable man living in a small hut, capable only of containing a single person. Concerning him, we were told that a she-wolf was accustomed to stand near him at dinner; and that the beast could by no means be easily deceived so as to fail to be with him at the regular hour when he took refreshment. It was also said that the wolf waited at the door until he offered her the bread which remained over his own humble dinner; that she was accustomed to lick his hand, and then, her duty being, as it were, fulfilled, and her respects paid to him, she took her departure.”38

The she-wolf is a remarkable monastic dinner mate—not least because of her gender!39 Punctual and polite as long as her host serves her, in his absence she is compelled to steal a loaf of bread. Her long companionship with the monk, however, transformed her animal nature. She feels terrible compunction on her evil deed: her state of mind is described in perfect juristic jargon by the lawyer Sulpicius Severus. Shameful, the wolf does not dare show up at the monk’s hut. The recluse, at the same time, misses his faithful dinner companion and prays for her return:

37

L. Kalof, B. Resl, B. Boehrer, M. Senior, K. Kete, R. Malamud (eds.), A Cultural History of Animals, Vols. 1–6. Oxford 2007; D. Alexander, Saints and Animals in the Middle Ages, Woodbridge 2008. 38 Dialogues 1, 14. 39 The desert is by definition a place where “there are no women.” The she-wolf, then, represents not only the animal world, but the female world as well, from which monks flee. See D. Brakke, “The Lady Appears: Materializations of ‫ލ‬Woman‫ ތ‬in Early Monastic Literature,” in D. B. Martin and P. C. Miller (eds.), The Cultural Turn in Late Ancient Studies: Gender, Asceticism, and Historiography, Durham, NC 2005, pp. 25–40.

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Ad Aegypti Extrema Contendi “At last, being brought back through his prayers, it appeared to him as usual at dinner time, after the lapse of seven days. But to make clear to everyone the shame it felt, through regret for what had been done, not daring to draw very near, and with its eyes, from profound self-abasement, cast upon the earth, it seemed, as was plain to the intelligence of every one, to beg in a sort of way for pardon. The recluse, pitying its confusion, bade it come close to him, and then, with a kindly hand, stroked its head, while, by giving it two loaves instead of the usual one, he restored the guilty creature to its former position; and, laying aside its misery on thus having obtained forgiveness, it betook itself anew to its former habits.”

Confessing her sin and asking pardon, the wolf reaches the peak of Christian perfection, the perfection sought by the ascetics. The moral of the tale is not lost on Postumianus who draws the lesson by contrasting the faith and conscience of the animal transformed in ascetic company with the godlessness of humans (who, implicitly, lack ascetic schooling): “A wolf discharges duty; a wolf acknowledges the crime of theft; a wolf is confounded with a sense of shame: when called for, it presents itself; it offers its head to be stroked; and it has a perception of the pardon granted to it, just as if it had a feeling of shame on account of its misconduct—this is your power, O Christ—these, O Christ, are your marvelous works. For in truth, whatever things your servants do in your name are your doings; and in this only we find cause for deepest grief that, while wild beasts acknowledge your majesty, intelligent beings fail to do you reverence.”40

Animals in monastic stories represent much more than the “Alice-inWonderland side of religion.” Playing a sophisticated role in the symbolic communication of the hagiographical text, they have a significant semiotic function.41 The wolf who behaves like a human being, arrives to dinner on time, feels shame and compuction over theft, and asks pardon is a direct ancestor of the wolf of Gubbio with whom Saint Francis strikes a “winwin” deal. Animals and monsters (monstra) signify something other than themselves: they are both “warnings” and “messages.” Developing new conceptual models of human interaction with the nonhuman environment, ancient hagiographers knew well that animals were “good to think with.” Not only do they model and imitate human society, but also invite to

40

Dialogues 1, 14. B. Leyerle, “Monks and Other Animals,” in D. B. Martin and P. C. Miller (eds.), The Cultural Turn in Late Ancient Studies: Gender, Asceticism, and Historiography. Durham, NC 2005, pp. 150–71. 41

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examine human culture “from outside.”42 Shaped by the social context of their production, monastic animal stories represent established norms in conflict with new thinking.43 The ascetic revolution reinterpreted Christian perfection and offered a new model not only for Christian living, but also of Christian understanding of the world. Monastic and ascetic models and organizations, however, were contested within the Church in the fourth century. Monastic animal tales reflect this debate.44 The transformation of the wild animals mirror the transformation of humans and the transformation of the ascetic. The traditional relationship between beast and human is conquest and domination that come to be transformed into Isaiah’s “Peaceable Kingdom” in the desert. Postumianus’ animal parables, however, must be seen not only in a Christian, but also in an Egyptian context. The overwhelming presence of the “monk-meets-beast” stories in Severus’ Dialogues is remarkable precisely because of its Egyptian setting. Severus reduces desert asceticism to human-animal interaction in which beasts have or acquire human attributes and live in a symbiosis with humans, profitable for both. This representation evokes traditional Egyptian animal worship and the images of gods in animal shape that decorate tombs and monuments occupied by the ascetics. Animals in Egypt, then, express and evoke religious and cultural policies.45 In ancient Egyptian religion, animals illustrated the characteristics of the gods. However, the Egyptians did not worship animals and the depictions were not literal: for example, Horus was depicted as a falcon because he was believed to have falconlike qualities, not because he was thought to be a bird; Bastet, linked to childrearing, was often represented as a cat, referring to her cat-like character, not to her being a cat. The association of an animal with a deity did not make the species sacred nor did it prevent them from being farmed or hunted. Representations of gods and goddesses were created

42

G. Stephens and J. Cools, “Living with Coyotes: Rethinking Human-Animal Relations, from Aesop to Prodigal Summer,” Pakistan Journal of Historical Studies 1 (Winter 2016), pp. 34–75. 43 J. J. Cohen (ed.), Monster Theory: Reading Culture, Minneapolis 1996. 44 I. S. Gilhus, “Angels, Animals and Religious Change in Antiquity and Today,” in Ch. Bochinger and J. Rüpke (eds.), Dynamics of Religion, Berlin 2017. 45 K. A. D. Smelik and E. A. Hemelrijk, “Who knows not what monsters demented Egypt worships?” Opinions on Egyptian animal worship in Antiquity as part of the ancient conception of Egypt,” Aufstieg und Niedergang der Römischen Welt II, 17, 4 (1984), pp. 1852–2000; D. Arnold, Falken, Katzen, Krokodile: Tiere im Alten Ägypten. Aus den Sammlungen des Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York und des Ägyptischen Museums, Kairo-Zürich 2010.

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to serve specific functions and the depiction of a deity as an animal was a device to convey attributes of the deity. In later periods, some animal species did come to be seen as sacred.46 Devotion to animals, however, was something highly alien to Greeks in Egypt. In order to integrate the Greek communities living in their kingdom, the Ptolemies created Greek versions—human-shaped counterparts—of Egyptian animal-shaped gods. This compromise ensured an ongoing dialogue between peoples from different cultures coming together in the land of the Nile. It is unlikely that Severus’ emphasis on animals in desert asceticism would reveal actual knowledge of the ancient cultural divide between Greeks and Copts. Yet it does reference—even canonize—animal companionship as a typically Egyptian form of asceticism. The lines that divide animals and monks are blurred and erased. In contrast to traditional Roman representations, such as gladiatorial games, hunting, or fishing scenes that show humans dominating the animal world, Christian monks are encouraged to eschew domination whether in the form of eating meat, assuming positions of leadership, or giving advice. This is well shown by the story of the healing of the blind lion cubs by an unsuspecting anchorite empowered by the lioness: “On the fourth day, when he had gone some distance escorting them in their return journey, they beheld a lioness of remarkable size coming towards them. The animal, although meeting with three persons, showed no uncertainty as to the one she made for, but threw herself down at the feet of the anchorite: and, lying there with a kind of weeping and lamentation, she manifested mingled feelings of sorrow and supplication. The sight affected all, and especially him who perceived that he was sought for: he therefore sets out, and the others follow him. For the beast stopping from time to time, and, from time to time looking back, clearly wished it to be understood that the anchorite should follow wherever she led. What need is there of many words? We arrived at the den of the animal, where she, the unfortunate mother, was nourishing five whelps already grown up, which, as they had come forth with closed eyes from the womb of their dam, so they had continued in persistent blindness. Bringing them out, one by one, from the hollow of the rock, she laid them down at the feet of the anchorite. Then at length the holy man perceived what the creature desired, and having called upon the name of God, he touched with his hand the closed eyes of the whelps, and immediately their blindness 46

A. von den Driesch, D. Kessler, F. Steinmann, V. Berteaux, J. Peters, “Mummified, Deified and Buried at Hermopolis Magna: the Sacred Birds from Tuna el-Gebel, Middle Egypt,” Ägypten und Levante / Egypt and the Levant 15 (2005), pp. 203–44.

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ceased, while light, so long denied them, streamed upon the open eyes of the animals.”47

The Gospel topos of the healing of the blind is here subverted and retold as an animal story. The anchorite dominates nature: the wild beasts know his power and turn to him as a qualified doctor. It is the humans who are blind and ignore the hermit’s virtue. Through his act of healing, the anchorite convincingly demonstrates his supernatural power to his former monastic colleagues, who obviously lack this power: “Thus, those brethren, having visited the anchorite whom they were desirous of seeing, returned with a very precious reward for their labor, inasmuch as, having been permitted to be eye-witnesses of such power, they had beheld the faith of the saint, and the glory of Christ, to which they will in future bear testimony. But I have still more marvels to tell: the lioness, after five days, returned to the man who had done her so great a kindness, and brought him, as a gift, the skin of an uncommon animal. Frequently clad in this, as if it were a cloak, that holy man did not disdain to receive that gift through the instrumentality of the beast; while, all the time, he rather regarded Another as being the giver.”48

The presence of the animals heralds the ascetics’ purpose to reconstruct paradise on earth, when humans lived in harmony with the created world. “Reconstructing paradise” is no backwards-looking conservatism in Severus’ Dialogues, but future-oriented political thought, proposing an alternative society free from political and economical constraints, ruled by the law of Christ. The nonviolent cohabitation of humans with animals is no forerunner of twentienth-century ecological and environmentalist thought, but a deeply religious message, rooted in the Bible, about what society—and ascetics!—should be like. The peak of the ascetic experience, however, is not a peaceful monastic zoo, but the establishment of the “society of angels” among humans. When the monk empties himself of evil will and wicked thoughts to the point that he becomes like calming water or warming fire, his solitary, superhuman effort is crowned by intelligible, angelic visitations: “Amid much talk which the two had together, the recluse is said to have replied to the question why he shunned so assiduously all human beings, that the man who was frequently visited by mortals like himself, could not often be visited by angels. From this, not without reason, the report had

47 48

Dialogues 1, 15. Dialogues 1, 15.

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Ad Aegypti Extrema Contendi spread, and was accepted by multitudes, that that holy man enjoyed angelic fellowship.”49

Postumianus records the reclusive experience at Mount Sinai—a holy place charged with symbolic meaning—only to repeat the topos of obedience and the military organization of the crowded coenobitical monasteries on his return along the Nile: “I, for my part, departed from Mount Sinai, and returned to the river Nile, the banks of which, on both sides, I beheld dotted over with numerous monasteries. I saw that, for the most part, as I have already said, the monks resided together in companies of a hundred, but it was well-known that so many as two or three thousand sometimes had their abode in the same villages. Nor indeed would one have any reason to think that the virtue of the monks there dwelling together in great numbers was less than that of those who kept themselves apart from human fellowship was known to be. The chief and foremost virtue in these places, as I have already said, is obedience. In fact, any one applying for admission is not received by the abbot of the monastery on any other condition than that he be first tried and proved; it being understood that he will never afterwards decline to submit to any injunction of the abbot, however arduous and difficult, and though it may seem something unworthy to be endured.”50

Instead of the spiritual portraits that people the Historia Monachorum in Aegypto and the Historia Lausiaca, Postumianus offers the monastic statistics and ascetic exteriors. He focuses on the environment and on the “ecology” of the solitary ascetic and emphasizes the ascetics’ obedience to their superior in packed monastic compounds. The ascetics’ spiritual progress, their fight with inner and external demons, their participation in the liturgical service go unmentioned—the lack of demonic encounters is particularly noteworthy. Modeled on contemporary pilgrims’ tales, rather than on biblical models, Sulpicius Severus’ Dialogues is an important contribution to the creation of pilgrim literature and the literary canonization of solitary desert monasticism in Egypt. The idealized image of a desert dotted by devout but lonely ascetics, characterized by human-animal cooperation—though studiously opposed to human interaction—screens the institutional foundations of monasticism just as much as ascetic liturgical practice.51 49

Dialogues 1, 17. Dialogues 1, 17. 51 A. Martin, “Encadrement ecclésiastique, organisation des communautés locales et développement du christianisme en Égypte au IVe siècle,” in P.-G. Delage (ed.), Les pères de l’église et les ministères, La Rochelle 2008, pp. 323–40. 50

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Egypt remains very much the “land of the body.”52 Emphasizing obedience, Severus passes over in silence over a crucial aspect of monastic life: the monks’ relationship with the bishop—an aspect presented with brio in Athanasius’ Life of Antony.53 While the relationship between bishop and ascetic was in the crucible in the East as well as in the West, Severus aims at reinforcing the image of the ascetic as a solitary person empowered with superhuman, wonder-working force at the expense of the Church as an institutional network. This ideological and literary strategy will allow him to present Martin of Tours, the monk-bishop in the service of his community, as surpassing in virtue the solitary recluses of Egypt who desert their communities in conflict.

52

S. J. K. Pearce, The Land of the Body: Studies in Philo’s Representation of Egypt, Tübingen 2007. 53 A. Martin, “Les relations entre le monachisme égyptien et l'institution ecclésiastique au IVe siècle,” in A. Camplani and G. Filoramo (eds.), Foundations of power and conflicts of authority in late-antique monasticism, Leuven 2006, pp. 13–46.

THE RULES OF COPTIC WILLS IN LIGHT OF THE BOOK “AL-MAGMOU AL-ৡAFAWY LE IBN AL-ࡒASSƖL” M. F. MUHAMMED CAIRO UNIVERSITY, EGYPT

This paper investigates and compares the rules which were written down by Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl in his book “Al-Magmou Al-ৡafawy” with Coptic wills of the seventh through the eighth centuries AD. The book is dated to the thirteenth century AD, when Egypt was under Ayyubid rule. Chapter 42 concerns financial wills and is divided into five parts: the will and its author, the items handed down, the beneficiaries, what the will entails, and the executor of the will. Most Coptic wills have been found in western Thebes. Coptic wills are documentary texts, in which an individual decrees what should be done with his/her wealth and property after their passing. The will takes effect after death.1 Its main purpose is to transfer the inheritance of the person to his/her heirs, who are their offspring (sons, daughters, grandsons, and granddaughters) and siblings. Coptic wills reveal the daily life and social and economic interactions of the inhabitants of Egypt. Coptic wills are an interesting subject, because Christianity is explicitly unconcerned with goods or any possessions in the transitory world. Therefore, the early fathers did not lay down any rules for the process of inheritance. However, later in the twelfth century, Gabriel Ibn Turaik, the seventieth patriarch of Alexandria (1131–1145), compiled rules for the regulation of inheritance.

 1

Hebrews 9:17: “A testament is of power after men are dead: otherwise it is of no strength at all while the testator lives.” G. W. Horner, The Coptic Version of the New Testament in the Southern Dialect, Vol. 5, The Epistles of Paul, Oxford 1920, pp. 72–73.

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The Rules of Coptic Wills in Light of the Book “Al-Magmou Al-ৡafawy le Ibn Al-ǥAssƗl”

The main target of this paper is to compare Coptic wills as documents with the rules written in the book “Al-Magmou Al-ৡafawy.” In studying the texts of Coptic wills, the present author found that they were written according to certain laws; however, we do not have any such laws written down anywhere, perhaps because they were lost. In his book, Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl did not note that there were documentary wills written in the Coptic language, since he obviously depended only on Arabic sources. The author of the book “Al-Magmou Al-ৡafawy le Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl” (=the ৡafawy collection of the writings of the son of the honey maker) is from a wealthy Coptic family that lived in the thirteenth century. His full name is al-ৡƗfƯ Abnj al-FaঌƗ’il Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl (c. 1205–1265). He played a crucial role in the intellectual renaissance of the Coptic Church.2 Al-ৡƗfƯ was a keen student of Coptic law. He had an excellent command of Arabic, literature, and history, as well as Greek philosophy and theology. Little is known about his life. He may have been born c. 1205 and died c. 1265.3 The book “Al-Magmou Al-ৡafawy” consists of 51 chapters in two volumes. They are arranged by subject rather than chronologically. This typical form facilitates consultation on a singular subject. The first section contains 22 chapters (1–22), which deal with the ecclesiastical structure of the church and religious matters. Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl declared in the introduction of his book the sources he depended on; it is based primarily on the Bible (Old and New Testaments), the canons (laws) attributed to the councils of the church like those at Nicaea and Antioch, the Didascalia, the ecclesiastical canons, and the book Fiqh An-Na‫܈‬raniya by Ibn A৬-৫aiyb.4 Therefore, he focused on the sources written primarily in Arabic. The second part of the book contains 29 chapters (23–51), which focus on civil law dealing with grants, loans, selling, buying, trade, money lending, marriage, wills, and inheritance.5 Al-ৡƗfƯ started writing his book in 1235 and finished it in 1238.6 His most famous and far-reaching work

 2

R. Rowberry and J. Khalil, “A Brief History of Coptic Personal Status Law,” Berkeley Journal of Middle Eastern & Islamic Law 3 (2013), pp. 105–106. 3 K. Samir, “Safi ibn al-Assal,” The Coptic Encyclopedia 7 (1991), p. 2075. 4 The Arabic edition is G. Ph. ࡒAwad, Al-Magmou Al-‫܇‬afawy Le-Ibn Al-ոAssƗl, Vol. I, Coptic Orthodox Patriarchate, Cairo 1886, pp. 1–7. The book Fiqh AnNa‫܈‬raniya by Ibn A৬-৫aiyb was published as W. Hoenerbach und O. Spies, Ibn AtTaiyb, Fiqh An-Nasraniya “das Recht der Christenheit,” in Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium, Vol. 161, Louvain 1956. 5 D. C. Morolli, “Alcune considerazioni sull’ opera di Al-Safi ibn al-Assal canonista copto del XIll secolo,” Studi sull’Oriente Cristiano 1/2 (1997), p. 11. 6 R. G. Coquin, “Nomocanons, Coptic-Arabic,” The Coptic Encyclopedia 6 (1991), p. 1799.

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has been the basis of ecclesiastical law for the Coptic church of Egypt until today.7 Al-ৡƗfƯ consulted all of the aforementioned Christian sources in creating the second section of his book. He relied heavily on a collection of laws that are divided into four books known as The Canons of the Kings. Scholars have identified these four books as: (1) The Procheiros Nomos, a handbook of Roman-Byzantine law enacted between 870 and 878 by the Byzantine emperor Basilius the Macedonian. (2) An Arabic version of a work known as the Syro-Roman Law Book, which deals with the civil law of ancient Rome. (3) An Arabic version of another compendium of Roman-Byzantine laws, which is known as the Ecloga of the emperors Leo III and Constantine V, written in 726. (4) A text called Precepts of the Old Testament, which contains an anthology of principles and rituals from the Pentateuch along with Christian textual interpretations. Therefore, the secular section of ৡafƯ’s Nomocanon is firmly grounded on Roman-Byzantine law tradition that matured after the Copts split from the Roman and Byzantine churches.8 Only two chapters of “Al-Magmou Al-ৡafawy” relate to this paper: chapter 41, which concerns financial wills in five parts (the will and its author, the items handed down, the beneficiaries, what the will entails, the executor of the will); and chapter 42, which deals with inheritance in general. “Al-Magmou Al-ৡafawy” was originally written in Arabic in 1245.9 The first edition was prepared by the Hegemon Philothaous ࣱAwad in 1886. His son Girgis Philothaous A ࣱ wad reprinted it in 1908.10 It is considered the most significant work of medieval Coptic law,11 and the most

 7

Samir, “Safi ibn al-Assal,” p. 2076; Ch. Chaillot, The Coptic Orthodox Church: A Brief Introduction to its Life and Spirituality, Inter-Orthodox Dialogue, Paris 2005, p. 81 n. 2. 8 Rowberry and Khalil, “A Brief History of Coptic Personal Status Law,” p. 107; P. L. Strauss, The Fetha Nagast, The Law of the Kings, Durham 2008, p. xxxvii. 9 S. Emmel, Ägypten und Nubien in spätantiker und christlicher Zeit, Reichert 1999, p. 512. 10 W. A. Hanna, The Collection of Safey Ibn Al-Assal, important Collection of Writings on Church and Civil Laws, Missouri 1996, p. iv. (http://www.zeituneg.org/ASSAL_AL.pdf).  11 K. J. Werthmuller, Coptic Identity and Ayyubid Politics in Egypt, 1218–1250, Cairo 2010, p. 71.

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important source of the Coptic Orthodox canonical law.12 The Coptic church does not have a canon law as the Roman church does. The church of Egypt was concerned with the Coptic translation of the sources of church law.13 “Al-Magmou Al-ৡafawy” was preceded by a code of laws of inheritance compiled in Arabic14 by Father Gabriel II Ibn Turaik, the seventieth patriarch of Alexandria (1131–1145),15 consisting of thirty-two manuscripts.16 These laws are based on scriptures like Numbers 27:6–7, Numbers 27:8–11, and Job 42:15 (in the Old Testament) and the Epistle of Paul to the Corinthians (in the New Testament),17 in addition to the early laws and the canons of the kings.18 The sources which Father Gabriel II Ibn Turaik depended on and which Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl used were all in Arabic. They did not mention that there were deeds of last wills written in Coptic. This article investigates the rules of wills and inheritance in the collection of ৡafƯ Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl and the same in the texts of the Coptic papyri, which Crum transcribed from the original manuscripts which were scattered throughout some European countries of Europe (especially in the British Library). These papyri are the collection of P.KRU.19 The Coptic wills are 13 papyri, from P.KRU 65 to P.KRU 77. All of these papyri came from western Thebes. They are dated to the seventh and eighth centuries. The conditions of the written will, as found in the book of Ibn AlࡒAssƗl, were as follows:20

 12

Werthmuller, Coptic Identity, p. 125. 13 R. G. Coquin, “Canon Law,” Coptic Encyclopedia 2 (1991), p. 449. 14 O. H. E. Burmester, “The Laws of Inheritance of Gabriel Ibn Turaik LXX Patriarch of Alexandria,” Oriantalia Christiana Periodica 1 (1935), pp. 315–27; Idem, “The Canons of Inheritance of Gabriel Ibn Turaik LXX Patriarch of Alexandria,” Le Muséon 46 (1933), pp. 43–44; A. A. Mina, Le Nomocanon de Gabriel Ibn Turayke, El-Minia 1980. 15 O. F. A. Meinardus, Two Thousand Years of Coptic Christianity, Cairo 2002, p. 50. 16 K. J. Werthmuller, An In-between Space: An Archival and Textual Study of Coptic Identity and Ayyubid Politics in Egypt, 1171–1250 CE, Michigan 2007, p. 198. 17 Burmester, “The Laws of Inheritance of Gabriel Ibn Turaik,” pp. 326–27. 18 W. Hartmann, and K. Pennington, The History of Byzantine and Eastern Canon Law to 1500, Washington, DC 2012, p. 284. 19 W. E. Crum und G. Steindorff, Koptische Rechtsurkunden des achten Jahrhunderts aus Djême (Theben), Leipzig 1912, nos. 65–77. 20 G. Ph. ࡒAwad, Al-Magmou Al-Safawy Le-Ibn Al-ոAssƗl, Vol. 2, p. 335.

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(1) The will is complete if it is in the handwriting of a scribe or the author of the will. Text of the will and the witnesses have to be on a single original document (no copies). (2) The will is signed in the presence of witnesses. There can be seven or five witnesses, but at least two or three are also acceptable. (3) The will should include the date on which it is written, as well as the names of the beneficiaries (“I made so and so my heirs”). If the owner of the property was illiterate, the witnesses could write for him. The will should mention the author of the will, the beneficiaries, and the one who wrote it. The beneficiary should not sign the will. As for the first and second conditions (writer and witnesses), Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl said: “[The] will has to be in the hand writing of a scribe or the author of the will, in the presence of witnesses, who can be seven or five if possible, three or at least two witnesses are acceptable.” These conditions were followed in the Coptic wills. The verb (“witness, bear witness”), the name , the plural , andwere always proceeded by an adjective (“trustworthy, credible”). In the will of Jacob the monk (P.KRU 65), we read:

Ҡ By me, Theodore, the scribe of Kastron Memnonion,21 having been asked I wrote for him and for the witnesses who did not know letters,

 21

Kastron Memnonion lies in western Thebes inside the borders of Hermonthis Nome. Cf. R. S. Bagnall, Egypt in the Byzantine World, 300–700, Cambridge 2007, p. 130; S. Timm, “Das christlich-koptische Ägypten in arabischer Zeit: eine Sammlung christlicher Stätten in Ägypten in arabischer Zeit, unter Ausschluss von Alexandria, Kairo, des Apa-Mena-Klosters (DƝr Abnj Mina), der SkƝtis (WƗdi nNa৬rnjn) und der Sinai-Region,,” in Beihefte zum Tübinger Atlas des Vorderen Orients 41 (Wiesbaden 1985), p. 1228; U. Hölscher, “The Excavation of Medinet Habu, Vol. V, Post-Ramessid Remains,” Oriental Institute Publications 66 (Chicago 1954), pp. 45–51.

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according to the abiding custom of the Kastron, and I executed (the document) †††.”22 The will of lady Tsible, daughter of Gypathius, reads (P.KRU 69):

 “I gave my only testament, untransgressable and indestructible, making it is established through some trustworthy witness and a scribe who would write for them.”23 In the end of her will, the scribe wrote to reinforce the beginning of her will:

“I asked a scribe and some other witness to witness for me.”24 In the will of Susanna (P.KRU 66; P.Lond. Copt. 397):25

“I requested some credible witnesses to witness it: they witnessed it with their hands: those who knew to write wrote with their own hands, while those who did not know how to write they requested some writers to write for them.”26

 22

L. S. MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents: Law as Vernacular Text and Experience in Late Antique Egypt,” Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies 377 (AZ: ACMRS, 2009), p. 41. 23 P. E. Newberry, The Amherst Papyri, Being an Account of the Egyptian Papyri in the Collection of the Right Hon. Lord Amherst of Hackney, London 1899, p. 60; MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” pp. 138-39. 24 MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. 140. 25 W. E. Crum, Catalogue of the Coptic Manuscripts in the British Museum, London 1905, pp. 185-86. 26 MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. 76; L. Stern, “Das Testament der Susanna nach einem koptischen Papyrus im Britischen Museum,” Zeitschrift für Ägyptische Sprache und Alterthiunskunde 26 (1888), p. 132; L. Stern, “Zwei koptische Urkunden aus Theben im ägyptischen Museum zu Berlin,” Zeitschrift für Ägyptische Sprache und Alterthiunskunde 22 (1884), 160; W. Till, Erbrechtliche Untersuchungen auf Grund der koptischen Urkunden,

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There are some who wrote the will with their own hand, the will of Paham the monk (P.KRU 67):

“I Paham, I wrote this will with my own hand.”27 As for the witnesses, their names came at the end of the text. Everyone wrote his name and title, if he bore one, and then recorded that he was a witness according to the request of the willer. Their names vary in number in each will. In the will of Jacob, the abbot of the monastery of Phoibammon (P.KRU 65), there are seven witnesses. Cf. the will of Elisabeth (P.KRU 68) and the two copies of the will of Susanna (P.KRU 66; P.KRU 76), which list six witnesses; the will of Daniel (P.KRU 71) and the will of Jacob and Elias (P.KRU 75) have five witnesses; four witnesses are named in the will of Tbasbes (P.KRU 70). Finally, there are only three witnesses listed in the will of Tsible (P.KRU 69) and the wills of Paulus (P.KRU 74) and Aaron (P.KRU 72). There is no will that is dated to the seventh and eighth centuries from Thebes that has only two witnesses. In other places and times, however, there are wills with only two witnesses, like the two Coptic testaments of Rafael (P.Leid. RMO, F1964/4.3, and P.Leid. RMO, F1964/4.7, both from Teshlot and dated to the eleventh century).28 Thus, we see in the Coptic wills parallels to what is written in “AlMagmou Al-ৡafawy” concerning the number of witnesses. As for the third condition (date, names of heirs, and witness of the writer), Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl said: “It should include the date, the names of the beneficiaries. The owner of the property says in the will, I made so and so

 Sitzungsberichte der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, Philosophisch-Historische Klasse, Band. 229, Abh. 2, Wien 1954, p. 169. 27 E. Revillout, “Le testament du moine Paham,” Transaction of the Society Biblical Archaeology 6 (1878), p. 448; W. E. Crum, Catalogue général des antiquités égyptiennes du Musée du Caire (Nr. 8001-8741): Coptic Monuments, Le Caire 1902, p. 159 (no. 8729 in p. 148-149); W. Till, Die koptischen Rechtsurkunden aus Theben, Sitzungsberichte der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Philosophisch-Historische Klasse. Band 244. Abh. 3, Wien 1964, p. 143; L. S. B. MacCoull, Coptic Documentary Papyri as a Historical Source for Egyptian Christianity, the Roots of Egyptian Christianity, Philadelphia 1986, pp. 49-50. 28 M. Green, “A Private Archive of Coptic Letters and Documents from Teshlot,” Oudheidkundige Mededelingen uit hetRijksmuseum van Oudheden 64 (1983), p. 64.

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my heirs. It should mention the writer of the will, the beneficiaries, and the one who wrote it. The beneficiary should not write the will.”

Date The formula of the date came directly after the opening formula in the Coptic wills. It consists of four elements—the day, the Coptic month, the year, and finally the indiction 29—as follows: P.KRU 67 (Paham): the 6th day of Hathor, the 9th year of indiction. MacCoull determined the date of this would have been 2 November 725.30 P.KRU 68 (Elizabeth): the day is in a lacuna, the month of Paoni, the 6th year of indiction. MacCoull determined the year of this would have been 723.31 P.KRU 69 (Tsible): the 25th day, the 2nd year of (?) indiction. MacCoull determined the date of this would have been 28 August 72932 or 744.33 P.KRU 70 (Tbasbes): the 10th day of Epiph, the 3rd year of indiction. Till determined the date of this would have been 4 July 750.34 P.KRU 74 (Paulus): the 2nd day of Tobi, the 2nd year of indiction. MacCoull determined the date of this would have been 28 December 733.35 P.KRU 77 (Victor): the 8th day of Koiak, the 8th year of indiction. MacCoull determined the date of this would have been 4 December 634.36

 29

This is a cycle for determining the taxes every 15 years. Cf. R. S. Bagnall, and K. A. Worp, Chronological Systems in Byzantine Egypt, Leiden 2004, pp. 22–35. 30 MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. 120. 31 MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. 88. 32 MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. 138. 33 http://dev.ulb.ac.be/philo/bad/copte/base.php?page=recherche3.php; http://www.tris- megistos.org /tm/ detail.php?tm=85970. 34 W. C. Till, Datierung und Prosopographie der koptischen Urkunden aus Theben, Sitzungsberichte der Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Philosophisch-Historische Klasse, Band 240, Abh.1, Wien 1962, p. 27. 35 MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. 153. 36 MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. 18.

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These are the five complete Coptic wills which contain the full formula of the date. Others are incomplete and are missing the formula of the date.

Names of the Heirs Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl said: “It should include the names of the beneficiaries, saying I made so and so my heirs.” In P.KRU 66 (Will of Susanna), she specified her heirs to be her grandsons and granddaughters from her late son Germanos:

“I wish and order in this way: that my beloved (grand) sons, the sons of my late son Germanos, namely Hemai, Shenoute, and Stephen, are to enter upon the inheritance.”37 P.KRU 68 (Will of Elisabeth):

“I am writing to you, Abraham, my husband, so you may be owner in all ownership.”38 She also said to her husband: “You are to be owner of all that belongs to me, my house, my workshop, and all my property.”39 P.KRU 74 (Will of Paulus):

“Sarra my wife is to become the owner of all that is mine”40 in addition to his daughter Susanna and his son David.

 37

MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. 73; W. C. Till, Die Koptischen Rechtsurkunden der Papyrussammlung der Österreichischen National-bibliothek (CPR IV), Wien 1958, p. 16; Stern, “Zwei koptische Urkunden aus Theben,” p. 146. 38 MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. 90. 39 MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. 91. 40 MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. 155; W. C. Till, Erbrechtliche Untersuchungen auf Grund der koptischen Urkunden, Wien 1954, p. 196.

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Sometimes the writer or the owner of the will bore witness on the document. For instance, in P.KRU 76 (the second edition of Susanna’s will) the writer Komes said:

“I drew up this testament with my own hand, and I also bear witness.”41 It is not recorded in any of the Coptic wills that one of the heirs witnessed it. This agrees with what is said by Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl.

The Just Law of Inheritance Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl said: “The will is referred to in the sayings and actions of the prophets and wise men.”42 For example, Isaiah the prophet told King Hezekiah on the command of the Lord God: “Give orders concerning your house: for you shall die, and not live.”43 Many wise men advised a multitude of people to will things for the poor and to set charitable trusts for those who are and are not in need. When God said, “Leave a will,” he did not specify it further. The mind (logic) dictates that the wise shall do with his money what he likes because it is his own property. He is not prevented from selling, forming a charitable trust, or donating what he likes. Males and females receive equal shares. This is the Christian rule, since the Bible stated that males and females are equal in the sight of God. 44 This rule is followed in three of the Coptic wills: P.KRU 66 (Susanna), P.KRU 70 (Tbasbes), and it is perfect in P.KRU 74 (Paulus):

 41

MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. 77; Till, Erbrechtliche Untersuchungen, p. 169. 42 See the preliminary English translation of Al-Magmou Al-Safawy Le-Ibn AlAssal in Hanna, The Collection of Safey Ibn Al-Assal, p. 149. (http://www.zeituneg.org/ASSAL_AL.pdf). 43 Isaiah 38:1. L. C. L. Brenton, The Septuagint with Apocrypha: English, London 1851, p. 876. (http://ecmarsh.com) 44 Hanna, The Collection of Safey Ibn Al-Assal, p. 152.

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“According to just laws, the man becomes owner of all that is his; he can give it to whoever he wishes and deal with it in any manner, according to the whole desire of his soul.”45 P.KRU 70 (Tbasbes):

“(While) I’m Alive I’m the owner of all that is mine according to the just law.” This is the law that the present author proposes to be the main law of inheritance.

The Author of the Will Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl says: “Authoring a will is proper only if the author is of full age, free, and of sound mind.” This is what the author usually confirms in his will. For instance, in P.KRU 66 (Susanna):

“I have sought for this will with my heart and my reasoning unchanged, with no necessity incumbent upon me, nor compulsion nor deception nor seizure nor circumscription, but rather in full satisfaction of heart.”46 In P.KRU 74 (Will of Paulus), it reads:

 45

MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. 154. 46 Stern, “Das Testament der Susanna,” p. 129; Idem, “Zwei koptische Urkunden aus Theben,” p. 145; MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” pp. 72-73.

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“I have proceeded to this testament which is a will, with my heart and my reasoning established, without any wandering, acting in accordance with my customary behavior, with no compulsion upon me, nor any necessity nor deception nor circumscription nor … nor seizure, with no falsehood, with no single necessity incumbent upon me, but rather of my very own free choice.”47

The Willed Item Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl says: “It is not proper unless it is owned by the author of the will.”48 Every testator confirmed his ownership of all that is recommended for heirs, and how it reached him/her. For example, he/she could say: “I gave (something) which I inherited—literally, which arrived to me—from my father or my mother, or bought from earning by my own hands.” From this clause, we can know the transaction of the inheritance through the generations, thereby revealing family trees. P.KRU 66 (Will of Susanna):

“My inheritance that came to me from my late mother Tsia, which came to her in her turn from Elisha, the archdeacon.”49 In P.KRU 68 (Will of Elisabeth), it reads:

“I am writing to you, Abraham, my husband, so you own in all ownership over my house, this which came to me from my late parents Epiphanius and Mary.”50 In the same will, P.KRU 68, it says:

 47

MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. 154. 48 Hanna, The Collection of Safey Ibn Al-Assal, p. 151. 49 MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. 73; Untersuchungen, p. 162. 50 MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. 90; Untersuchungen, p. 180.

Till,

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“Which came to us from our own hand-work.”51 P.KRU 69 (Will of Tsible): “My portion of the house which came to me from my father.”52 P.KRU 71 (Will of Daniel): “My house, this which came to me from my late father, Pakhom.”53 P.KRU 74 (Will of Paulus):

“My inheritance, along with my portion of the house that came to me from my mother.”54 Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl says: “If one composes a will, he will first leave what he desires to his son and to his daughters the furnishing (for their marriage) and divide the rest in one-fourth portions.”55 The Coptic wills agree with this law.

The Inheritance Chapter 42 of “Al-Magmou Al-ৡafawy” deals with the inheritance- i.e., what to do with the property, and what the deceased leaves behind. Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl says, “They start with paying for the coffin, wages for digging the grave, and the cost of the tomb. Then, the cost of the funeral and the offerings—as described in the chapter that concerning the dead— pay his/her debt or taxes.”56

 51

MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. 90; Till, Erbrechtliche Untersuchungen, p. 180; Crum und Steindorff, Koptische Rechtsurkunden, p. 218. 52 MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. 139. 53 Crum und Steindorff, Koptische Rechtsurkunden, p. 229. 54 MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. 155; Till, Erbrechtliche Untersuchungen, p. 196. 55 Girgis Philothaos ࡒAwad, Al-Magmou Al-‫܇‬afawy Le-Ibn Al-ոAssƗl, Vol. 2, p. 338. 56 Hanna, The Collection of Safey Ibn Al-Assal, pp. 156-57; Hoenerbach und Spies, Ibn At-Taiyib Fiqh, An-Nasraniya, “das Recht der Christenheit,” p. 133.

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The Offerings Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl wrote about the offerings in chapter 22 of his book: “The customary in the church is to have service on the day of burial, the tenth day, the completion of one month, six months, and one year.”57 These funeral offerings are for the salvation of the soul.58 In P.KRU 76 (Will of Susanna), it says:

“Concerning my death: my male (grand) children are to bury me, according to the ethos of the village, and my five (grand) children are to give the five years’ worth of offerings on behalf of me, one by one (once a year).”59 Here the duty of burying Susanna falls on the grandsons only, but giving offerings becomes the duty of all Susanna’s grandchildren. P.KRU 70 (Will of Tbasbes): “Shenoute will give two years of offerings on behalf of me.”60 Therefore, theirs can fall into two categories: (1) Those who have a definite portion of the inheritance (wife, husband). (2) Paternal tribal relatives (either male or female) are ahead of those from the mother’s side. The Text P.KRU 66 P.KRU 67 P.KRU 68 P.KRU 69 P.KRU 70 P.KRU 71

The Heir(s) Hemai, Shenoute, Stephen, Tsone, and Victorine Jacob Abraham, son of Theodore Unnamed male Shenoute (father) and his son Pesunte Christodoros

Degree of Kinship Grandchildren Son Husband Husband Non-relatives (monks) Son

 57

Hanna, The Collection of Safey Ibn Al-Assal, p. 86. 58 T. S. Richter, “Daily Life: Documentary Evidence,” in G. Gabra (ed.), Coptic Civilization: Two Thousand Years of Christianity in Egypt, Cairo 2014, p. 131. 59 MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. 75; Till, Erbrechtliche Untersuchungen, p. 165. 60 Till, Erbrechtliche Untersuchungen, p. 187.

M. F. Muhammed

P.KRU 73 P.KRU 74 P.KRU 76

Psouter and Phoibammon Sara, Susanna, and David Hemai, Shenoute, Stephen, Tsone, and Victorine Table (1): Categories of the heirs according P.KRU

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Non-relatives Wife, daughter, and son Grandchildren to the Coptic wills of

The Inheritance of Bishops and Monks Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl says: “It should be known what belongs to the bishop and what belongs to the church. His own possession is under his control, and he can will it to whom he chooses. It should not be mixed with the church possessions, because he might have relatives whom he cares for and offspring. It is only according to God’s justice that what belongs to the church is preserved for it, and what belongs to the bishop is preserved for him, so he is not treated unjustly. Also, it is advised for the bishops’ relatives not to boast about what is his or what belongs to the church, because boasting might bring bad remembrance of the departed (bishop).”61 What the bishop owned before he became bishop is his own wealth; he can will it or give it away. However, what he accumulates afterwards belongs to the church; he cannot will it to anyone. Further, he can will inheritances, which he received from his parents, brothers, or uncles.62 Monks and bishops followed these rules when they wrote their wills. This clearly appears in the Coptic wills. In P.KRU there are three wills of monks. Two are the wills of monks who willed what belonged to the monastery under their administration: P.KRU 65 (Will of Jacob the monk), and P.KRU 75 (Will of Jacob and Elias). The third is P.KRU 67 (Will of Paham). This document is unique because it is the only will of a man who inherited property before he became a monk and then willed it to his two sons and daughter. P.KRU 65 (Will of Jacob the monk):

“Our brother, Victor, is to become and be owner of everything belonging to and lying within the holy monastery, inside and outside.”63 In P.KRU 75 (Double Will of Jacob and Elias the monks), it says:

 61

Hanna, The Collection of Safey Ibn Al-Assal, pp. 162- 63. 62 Hanna, The Collection of Safey Ibn Al-Assal, p. 163. 63 MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. 39.

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“We, the most humble monks Jacob and Elias.”64 Then they said: “You, Stephen monk from now be the owner and the owner of the entire property.”65 They then mentioned the property of the monastery, both moveable (cattle, books) and immoveable (caves, tower). P.KRU 67 (Will of Paham): “(I had) three children. I went and became a monk; I left them behind while they were still alive. They lived in the world.”66 Paham gave to his elder son Papnoute a small residence in his house, along with his household goods, silver, gold, bronze, and clothing. However, Papnoute would not be the one to inherit these. Instead, Paham’s younger son, Jacob, would inherit them:

“Now, I am giving you the authority, you, Jacob, my beloved son whom I wished to be (their) owner.”67

Conclusion That which is stated in “Al-Magmou Al-ৡafawy,” written by Ibn Al-Assal and dated to the thirteenth century AD, concerning wills (chapter 41) and the laws of inheritance (chapter 42) appears exactly in Coptic wills dated to the seventh and eighth centuries AD. The sources of inheritance laws among the Copts are (according to Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl and Gabriel II Ibn Turaik): scriptures, early canon laws, the Canons of the Kings, the Didascalia, and the ecclesiastical canons. According to Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl, the conditions of the written will are: (1) The will must be written by the hand of a scribe or the author of the will.

 64

Till, Erbrechtliche Untersuchungen, pp. 199-200. 65 Till, Erbrechtliche Untersuchungen, p. 201. 66 MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. Untersuchungen, p. 171. 67 MacCoull, “Coptic Legal Documents,” p. Untersuchungen, p. 172.

121;

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122;

Till,

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(2) It must be written in the presence of witnesses, who can be seven or five (if possible), though at least two or three witnesses are acceptable. (3) It includes the date and the names of the beneficiaries. It should also include the writer of the will and the beneficiaries. The beneficiary should not write the will. The will did not specify the percentage or portion of each individual of the heirs of the inheritance (this is according to Isaiah 38:1). If one writes a will, he should first leave what he desires to his son, and to his daughter(s) the furnishings for their marriage(s), and then divide the rest in quarter portions. Coptic wills agree with this law. Writing a will is proper only if the author is mature, free, and of sound mind. The author of the will should usually confirm this. Concerning the items handed down; the author of the will must own them. Every testator confirms in his will his ownership of all that is handed down to the heirs, and how he came into the possession of the items, whether by inheritance or by his own earning. Before the will takes effect, some expenses must be deducted, including: expenses for the coffin, wages for digging the burial place, the cost of the tomb, the cost of the funeral, and the offerings. Monks followed a stable system when they wrote their wills. The law of this system states that what belongs to the bishop and what belongs to the Church should be listed. The monk’s possession is under his control. We do not have written civil laws in Coptic, and Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl did not put Coptic wills as one of the resources he used in compiling his book. However, we can know that Coptic legal documents followed some rules that are found in Ibn Al-ࡒAssƗl’s book by studying these Coptic wills.

EGYPTIAN MARTYRDOM IN THE HISTORIA ECCLESIASTICA OF EUSEBIUS OF CAESAREA: A SOCIO-HISTORICAL APPROACH TO THE CHRISTIAN PERSECUTION, ESPECIALLY IN EGYPT, DURING THE RULE OF DIOCLETIAN AND HIS SUCCESSOR GALERIUS M. L. UREUTZ UNIVERSITY OF GRAZ, AUSTRIA

I. Introduction In an empire that mobilized the whole military force against threats and which is ruled by an emperor protected by the Roman gods, it seems clear that Christians who appeared neither at official sacrifices nor at the emperors’ cult must have been seen as enemies of the public. Gradually, official authorities became aware of this phenomenon and further realized that Christians were present in all provinces and social classes. Moreover, the church had organized itself as a hierarchical entity, under the leadership of bishops based in cities as well as bishops’ assemblies in the provinces of the empire. Due to foreign and constant threat, the emperors pursued restorative religious politics as an answer to the crisis. The persecutions of Christians under Decius (AD 249–251) as well as during Valerian’s reign (AD 251–263) have to be seen within this context. From time to time, Christians became victims of complaints, although they did not suffer any systematic persecution. On the contrary, they were tolerated and even enjoyed support from some of the emperors.

I‫ތ‬d like to thank Dr. Lincoln Blumell for his useful remarks and his careful proofreading.

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II. Background In AD 250, Decius enacted an edict centered on the conservation of the state; it required people to sacrifice incense and beverages, and for participants to eat of the sacrificial meat. The enforcement of this sacrifice was testified through the so-called libelli. Decius’s intention was to prove loyalty, especially to the Imperium and the official gods who ensured the prosperity of the empire. Formally, the edict did not contain any punishments, nor was it restricted to just Christians (it is clear that he didn’t intend the abolition of the Christians).1 The enforcement of his edict occurred in cases of non-discharge of these obligations. The persecution under Valerian seems to have had the same purpose. In his first law, he demanded that clergymen venerate the Roman gods. According to Cyprian of Carthage, those who did not esteem the di publici Romani (the Roman gods) must accept Roman ritual acts. Refusal led to banishment. The emperor clearly tried to enforce tribute trough the Roman ritual acts, which was intended to be seen as a minimum consensus for everyone who rejected the traditional deities. Furthermore, his aim was to prohibit the church’s ministry. A second law followed in August 258 that opposed the church much more offensively, especially its clergy and select social groups.2 After Gallienus, the son and co-emperor of Valerian, received news of his father’s captivity in 260, he suddenly ceased Christian persecution. Gallienus, an adherent of neo-Platonism, issued a law the same year reinstituting all consecrated Christian sites and rehabilitating bishops to their former rights. Consequently, this era could be called one of “inner peace,” during which Christians were able to proclaim their faith and the number of parishes grew significantly. Aside from that, however, the granted tolerance remained a precarious achievement.

1

We have few documents and very sparse sources for the eastern part of the empire. Thanks to the letters of Dionysus of Alexandria, which were collected by Eusebius in his Church History, parts of the implementation process of the Edict of Decius in Egypt are known. The pogrom of Alexandria in AD 248 had barely ended when the edict inflamed again the hostility of the pagan crowds towards the Christians. Eusebius documented those happenings, especially in his sixth book of the Church History. 2 The Valerian legislation for Christians and the resulting persecution as well as the countless martyria highlight the widespread reach of Christianity. The success of the Christian mission must have been enormous.

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III. The Great Persecution Despite the military efforts of Emperor Aurelian (AD 270–275) and Probus (AD 276–282), the hostile pressures at the empire’s borders remained severe. To help end the turmoil, Diocletian (AD 284–305) transformed the typical monarchic style of rule by instituting a dyarchy, or reign of two Augusti.3 This was extended in 293 to a tetrarchy, which consisted of the Augusti and two sub-emperors, called Caesares. He divided the Imperium into four parts, one administration unit for each emperor. At the same time as the sacralization of the imperial powers, a political theology developed—Diocletian called himself a descendant of Jupiter (Jovius), and Maximian, a descendant of Hercules (Herculius). Actually, the Christian tradition didn’t contribute much to the comprehension of the 303–305 persecution. Its reasons lay in the politicalreligious system itself, which definitely had to do with the sacral idealization of the imperial rule as expressed in the conjunction between emperor and the divine couple Jupiter-Hercules. It is also rooted in Diocletian’s acknowledgement of the ancient Roman gods.4 This concept was the basis for the Matrimonial Edict of AD 295 and the Edict on the Manichaeans of AD 297.5 Anti-Christian sanctions likely began in 299, though the chronology is uncertain. Lactantius and Eusebius, the two major sources of evidence, both mention some incidents in the army in Antiochia,6 where Diocletian 3 Cf. Ch. Piétri and L. Piétri, Das Entstehen der einen Christenheit 250–430, Freiburg 1995, pp. 174–90. 4 Today, the most common explanation for the persecution under Diocletian is that it was caused by grave differences between his view of a state and the view of the Christians, whose faith was seen to be incompatible with Diocletian’s vision. This is a possibility, though Portmann shows in his article on the motives of the Diocletian persecution that the emperor’s reforms (e.g., in administration) not attribute any affiliation to the usual standards. 5 The Edict of 297 emphasized certain religious aspects, underscoring that “[…] the old religion mustn’t be blamed by a new one [...] It is the greatest crime to cancel what has been determined and established by the old and which holds a confident way […].” 6 Cf. W. H. C. Frend, “Persecutions: Genesis and Legacy,” Cambridge History of Christianity, Vol. I, Origins to Constantine, Cambridge 2006, p. 519, who says: “The genesis of the Great Persecution, however, lay in a trivial incident in Antioch in 298. Christians were blamed for the absence of entrails in animals sacrificed to the gods in honour of the successful conclusion of the Persian war, and the emperor ordered them removed from the army and civil services. Thereafter, Eusebius records, little by little persecution against us began.”

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stayed between 299 and 301. Another incident took place at the same time, when the emperor sacrificed to the gods in order to get his fortune read. Further anti-Christian measures were preceded by the Apollo-oracle at Milet, where “God” proclaimed that Christians were the root cause for incorrect oracles. The first definitive actions were taken on 23 February 303,7 during the feast of Terminalia. Forty years of relative peace since the toleration of Gallienus were coming to an end.8 According to Lactantius, the emperor gave instructions to demolish the church opposite his palace in Nicomedia as well as to burn holy scriptures. Following that, the first edict was published and ordered (1) the destruction of all churches and the burning of the holy scriptures, (2) the dismissal and loss of privileges of upperclass Christians (the honestiores), (3) the withdrawal of liberty for freed Christian men in imperial employment, and (4) the withdrawal of legal powers for all Christians.9 A fire in the imperial palace at Nicomedia was later blamed on Christians who were part of the imperial court. After some friction in the eastern part of the Imperium, Diocletian issued another two edicts10 which decreed that (1) clergymen be arrested and (2) a commandment to sacrifice be enacted. Eusebius11 testifies to two further edicts in 304,12 which contained a general obligation to sacrifice.13

7

Whilst the Persian connexion is clearly a major determining factor in Diocletian’s reaction, the preceding paragraphs make plain that his fundamental objection is to the sacrilegious disturbance of what has been established since antiquity (quae semel ab antiquis statuta et definita), laid down by the immortal gods for the benefit of mankind: ‘ancient religion ought not to be criticized by a new-fangled one’ (neque reprehendi a nova vetus religio deberet). Cf. A. K. Bowman, “Persecution under Valerian and Gallienus,” in The Cambridge Ancient History, Vol. XII, The Crisis of the Empire A.D. 193–337, Cambridge 2005, p. 647 ff. 8 Eusebius could find no logical reason for the persecution. Eusebius, Bishop of Caesarea, Historia Ecclesiastica, Eng. trans. J. E. L. Oulton & H. J. Lawlor, Vol. I, New York-Toronto. 1927, VIII 8, 1.1–6, points out the church’s great prosperity and apparent enjoyment of imperial favor. 9 Eusebius, Hist. Eccl., VIII 2, 4. This first edict was put into operation in both halves of the empire. Although Lactantius insists that in Constantius’s sphere (i.e., Britain and the Gauls) most church buildings were destroyed, this is explicitly denied by Eusebius in Hist. Eccl., VIII 13, 13. 10 prostagma basilikon. 11 Eusebius, Hist. Eccl., VIII 6, 8f. 12 prostagma katholikon. 13 North Africa and Egypt, followed by Palestine, saw the most savage of the persecutions.

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The first Tetrarchy ended in 305, when Diocletian and the second Augustus Maximian abdicated.14 The two Caesares, Galerius and Constantius I (Chlorus), became Augusti, while Maximinus Daia and Severus were promoted as Caesares.15 Galerius and Maximinus governed the eastern part of the Imperium, while Constantius and Severus ruled in the West. The sudden death of Constantius in 306 and the appointment of his son Constantine as Augustus led to a phase of instability. This situation lasted until 312, when Constantine prevailed over Maxentius at the Milvian Bridge and became the one and only emperor in the West. It became necessary to change the western political stance towards the Christians into one of tolerance. The stability of the administrative bodies in the East, however, enabled a longer continuity of persecution. Maximinus himself adhered to a policy clearly aimed at extinguishing Christianity. Even at the beginning of 306, he sent letters to the officials of each city and ordered them to compel anybody to sacrifice.16 Nevertheless, in the end it was one of the greatest persecutors of Christianity, Galerius, who issued the Edict of Tolerance in 311, finally establishing stable peace in the Imperium.17 14

The persecution of Diocletian precipitated two serious and long-lived schisms: the Donatists in Carthage and North Africa, and the followers of Meletius, bishop of Lycopolis, in Egypt. In both cases, the argument turned on the question whether, when the state forbade Christian meetings for worship and required the surrender of Bibles, one could quietly cooperate with the authorities, or if one was obliged in conscience to resist them as agents of Satan. Cf. H. Chadwick, The Church in Ancient Society, Oxford 2001, p. 184. 15 Nevertheless, it has to be emphasized that when Constantius succeeded Maximian as Augustus in 305, all active persecution ceased in the West. The persecution had lasted less than two years and deaths securely known (as opposed to later legends) are not many. The following year saw the recovery of all church property and full freedom for Christians under Constantine in Britain, Gaul, and Spain, whereas in the territory under Maxentius’s control (Italy and Africa) Christians, though tolerated (Eusebius, Hist. Eccl., VIII 14,1), had to wait a further five years until such restoration. Thus, in the end the Great Persecution proved to be no long-lasting bloody affair for the western empire. 16 Eusebius, Hist. Eccl., VIII 14, 9. 17 At that time, the assembly of emperors consisted of Galerius, Constantine, Licinius and Maximinus Daia. There were three obvious relations for a concrete empire: (1) metaphysical relation, which according to the Roman view is the inextricable connection between policy and religious legitimation; (2) the law, which contained the prohibition to be Christian and was until that date actually valid; (3) the factuality of the Christian success to spread this religion. Another essential point is that this Edict definitely made the Christians discharge their duties (e.g., the expression of loyalty for the salus imperatoris et rei publicae).

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IV. The Testimony of Eusebius We know little about how the edicts against the Christians were put into practice throughout the entire Imperium, especially including how the intensity of persecution varied between different provinces. Documents containing victims’ names are weak examples; Eusebius mainly offers summaries, but at least shows some differences between the provinces. It can be taken for granted that those provinces, which were under Diocletian’s rule, saw many more victims. In the East, Nicomedia acted as center for the persecution order, the realization of which led directly to bloody incidents. The officials Dorotheus, Petrus, and Bishop Anthimus, as well as several believers, all paid with their lives. Undoubtedly, persecution raged most severely in Egypt. Eusebius presents the persecution of Egyptian Christians in the eighth book of his Church History, beginning in chapter 7 and ending in chapter 10.18 After describing the martyrs of Palestine, Eusebius mentions the Egyptians who suffered in Phoenicia (Tyrus). With great resistance, those “marvelous fighters for the fear of God” showed their strength and endurance in the fights with men-eating beasts, like bears, boars, panthers, and bulls. Earlier, they had had to resist the lashes of scourges. Eusebius claims to have attended these fights and seen how the power of “our savior Jesus Christ,” to whom this testimony was dedicated, had turned up and revealed himself to the martyrs. As in legends, Eusebius describes that those beasts did not dare to touch the flesh of these “god loved” men. The “holy fighter” stood under the protection of God, his divine power being the reason they were not touched by the beasts at all. For Eusebius, the “brave persistence” of the “Saints” is absolutely astonishing. This is evident in the ages of the fighters, who were mentioned as “young men,” “youth,” and “not twenty years old.” Further, Eusebius mentions a young man, bearing his hands like a cross, who was 18 Eusebius presents the persecution as șİȓĮ țȡȓıȚȢ (Eusebius, Hist. Eccl., VIII 8, 1.7), “God’s judgment” against the Christians. This is a theological topos that can be found even earlier with Cyprian (Ep. 11; De lapsis, 5f). He accuses his brothers and sisters of individual moral misbehavior, such as greed and luxuriance: “fecit Dominus noster voluntatem patris, et nos non facimus Dei voluntatem patrimonio et lucro studentes, superbiam sectantes aemulationi et dissensioni vacantes, simplicitatis et fidei neglegentes, saeculo verbis solis et non factis renuntiantes, unusquisque sibi placentes et omnibus displicentes” (Ep. 11.1.2). He clarifies his thoughts about God’s judgment against the background of the persecution (which began in 250) as well as inner Christian problems. Unlike Eusebius, Cyprian does not mention these problems in the church outside Africa, so this hardly can be seen as a disturbance for the disciplina publica.

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surrounded by bears and panthers. They wanted to kill him, but after earnestly and calmly praying to God, a heavenly and “mysterious” power intervened so that the beasts were unable to kill him. Another five men were thrown to a bull. Although this beast killed everyone around him with his horns, those “holy martyrs” were the only ones it did not dare to approach. After these executions failed, Eusebius recounts that they were slain with the sword and then thrown into the sea. Eusebius remembers19 that “even those Egyptians, who suffered the martyrium in their native country, deserve admiration.”20 Countless men suffered death in different ways, together with their wives and children, for the sake of the Savior’s doctrine and with contempt for their material lives. For the Egyptian Christians, Eusebius mentions several kinds of death: (1) by fire, after being tortured; (2) being thrown into the sea; (3) “[offering] the hangmen their necks”; (4) starvation; (5) crucifixion. According to Eusebius,21 “all descriptions are ridiculous compared to the agonies and suffering of the martyrs in the Thebais.” Women especially were forced to a great hardship. As Eusebius describes, their bodies were torn up while they were naked and were suspended upside down in the air. Others were tied on trunks or trees where they were killed 19

See ch. 8. A glance at the domestic political situation of about 300 is important here. The first edict (303) was a direct offense against Christianity. But their relations with the government of Egypt were at that time rather difficult. Just five years had passed since the suppression of the revolt by the usurper Domitius Domitianus (297/98). And five years before that were the revolts in Busiris and Coptos, which were suppressed by Galerius. It remains uncertain if Christians were involved in those rebellions in the East. Eusebius shows that they had at least participated in an earlier Alexandrian revolt (Eusebius, Hist. Eccl., VII 21, 1). Sources on the origins of Christianity in Egypt are generally silent until the early second century, when Alexandrian Christian literature begins to appear, when doctrines of early Christian teachers begin to be reflected in texts and testimonies, and when the rise of the popular and well-known “Catechetical School” in Alexandria is noted. We have to suppose that the earliest “Christians”—if we can call them that—were an integral part of the Jewish community of Alexandria. The first mention of Christians outside Alexandria is found in Eusebius, Hist. Eccl., VI, 1. For more reliable evidence of Christianity in Egypt outside Alexandria, we must turn to the papyri preserved by Egypt’s desert sands. Richer still is the evidence, both literary and papyrological, from the third century. The most important literary evidence consists of the voluminous correspondence of the bishop Dionysius, partially preserved in quotations by Eusebius. Cf. A. Pearson, “Egypt,” in The Cambridge History of Christianity Christianity, Vol. I., Origins to Constantine, Cambridge 2006, pp. 331–50. 21 See ch. 9. 20

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after drawing and quartering. Eusebius does not forget to mention that these executions were practiced not for a short time, but for years. It could happen that on a single day, ten, twenty, thirty, sixty, or even a hundred people were killed—men, women, and even little children. Eusebius himself witnessed the beheading and burning of victims. He bears testimony for those who believed in the Savior and went to death with “absolutely remarkable eagerness and truly heavenly strength and joyfulness.” While some people were sentenced to death, others eagerly came forward to proclaim themselves as Christians. Although they faced torture and execution, these people confessed without any concern their Christian belief and their dedication to the Christian God. They walked deathward “joyfully and smiling.” Eusebius increases this description to a walk deathward in “exultation,” “singing hymns of thanksgiving and praise until the dying breath.” “They are all admirable.”22 It seems that Eusebius expresses his admiration for those martyrs who suffered for Christ’s sake, although they were born rich with “high dignity” and sophistication. He draws attention to Philoromus, an administrative civil servant in Alexandria who did daily investigations, and also to Phileas, the bishop of the church of Thmuis. Phileas was known for his knowledge in philosophy; he was popular for his public dedication, and was very concerned about the common welfare of his home town. Although many people, especially relatives and friends, beseeched them to be careful with their lives and to consider their children and wives, they did not despise God’s commandment for the love of their lives. Both were beheaded after resisting the threats and insults of the judge “for manlike and philosophical considerations or furthermore with pious and god-devoted hearts.”23 Phileas, who had come to fame through worldly wisdom, appeared as a witness to make a report about the martyria in Alexandria, which happened during his time there.24 In this report, which is delivered to his posterity by Eusebius in his tenth chapter of the Church History, he writes as follows: “Having before them all these examples and models and noble tokens which are given us in the Divine and Sacred Scriptures, the blessed 22

Eusebius (Hist. Eccl., VIII 9, 4–5) writes: “And we ourselves beheld, when we were at these places, many all at once in a single day, some of whom suffered decapitation, others the punishment of fire; so that the murderous axe was dulled, and worn out, and was broken in pieces while the executioners grew utterly weary and took it in turns to succeed one another. Yet the volunteers for martyrdom never ceased and received the final sentence with gladness.” 23 Cf. Eusebius, Hist. Eccl., VIII 9, 8. 24 See ch. 10.

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martyrs who were with us did not hesitate, but directing the eye of the soul in sincerity toward the God over all, and having their mind set upon death for religion, they adhered firmly to their calling.”25 With the deeds and sacrifice of Christ for mankind in mind, these people did not hesitate to endure martyrdom. Phileas testifies that many of them had already experienced torture a second time.26 Everyone was allowed to hit and abuse them. After describing several scenes of their torture, Phileas addresses the circumstances of their suffering: “And they endured this, not merely as long as the governor talked with them or was at leisure, but through almost the entire day.”27 The authorities commanded their punishers to proceed without mercy. “For he said that they were not to have the least concern for us, but were to think and act as if we no longer existed.”28 Finally, Phileas describes another very amazing situation: Those, who exempted from the prison, had to decide whether to touch the pagan sacrifice and receive freedom, or to refuse and be condemned to death. Many decided to go to death willingly.29 Eusebius considered Phileas as a true friend of the wisdom and of God. He has written down these words to his parish before receiving his final sentence with the aim of describing his situation and exhorting them to hold fast to their Christian faith even after his own death.30 Chapter 13 mentions martyrdoms in the principal cities, which are also described in Chapter 6 of Book 9—Lucian of Antioch, Silvanus of Emisa, Petrus of Alexandria, and other Egyptian bishops. These men suffered under the rule of Maximinus, and Eusebius describes their persecution in Book 9. Chapter 7 recounts: “Of those who suffered death illustriously at Alexandria and throughout Egypt and Thebais, Peter, bishop of Alexandria, one of the most excellent teachers of the religion of Christ, should first be mentioned; and of the presbyters with him Faustus, Dius and Ammonius, perfect martyrs of Christ; also Phileas, Hesychius, Pachymius and Theodorus, bishops of Egyptian churches, and besides 25

Cf. Eusebius, Hist. Eccl., VIII 10, 2. Cf. 1 John 4:18–19: “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves punishment, and the one who fears is not perfected in love. We love, because He first loved us.” 27 Cf. Eusebius, Hist. Eccl., VIII 10, 6. 28 Cf. Eusebius, Hist. Eccl., VIII 10, 7. 29 The biblical background for their willingness can be found in Exod. 20:3, 22:20. 30 We have another document of Phileas’s—his second letter (now in a Latin translation), written while he was imprisoned in the face of death (Migne, PG 10, cols. 1565 ff). It is addressed to the bishop Meletius of Lykopolis. There are four bishops mentioned as senders: Hesychius, Pachomius, Theodorus, and Phileas. 26

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them many other distinguished persons who are commemorated by the parishes of their country and region.”31 Eusebius does point out, however, that he only wants to describe those events he witnessed himself.32 During the rule of Maximinus, the emperor in the East, Eusebius addresses the martyrdom of a Christian woman of Alexandria,33 whom the historian Rufinus calls Dorothea.

V. Eusebius: Theologian or Historian? Eusebius wrote his Church History at a time when Christian theologians had already written so-called “Apologies” for about 150 years.34 The circumstances during which he began his apologetic writing were shaped by a positive attitude towards Christianity. Two historical thoughts influenced him deeply—the proof from antiquity and the proof of prophecy. The proof from antiquity seeks evidence to prove that the Christian revelation, including the First (Old) Testament, is older than paganism, while the proof of prophecy strives to show that the wisdom of paganism derives from the wisdom of Christianity (e.g., Plato received his thoughts from Moses). Furthermore, the early Christian apologist aimed to construct continuity between the First and the Second Testaments. These two thoughts influenced on the historical Christian chronicles. This is the line, in which Eusebius stands with his writing regarding to the renouncement of apocalypticism and its interpretation of history. He merely aims to follow the proof of antiquity. Eusebius himself was a Platonist as well an Origenist, to the effect that for him the theology of history did not exist at all. Genesis and the Fall (i.e., history) characterize the world’s distance from God. Reality only 31

Eusebius, Hist. Eccl., VIII 13, 7. Cf. Eusebius, Hist. Eccl., VIII 13, 7. 33 Cf. Eusebius, Hist. Eccl., VIII 14, 15–16: “One only of those who were seized for adulterous purposes by the tyrant, a most distinguished and illustrious Christian woman in Alexandria conquered the passionate and intemperate soul of Maximinus by most heroic firmness. Honorable on account of wealth and family and education, she esteemed all of these inferior to chastity. He urged her many times, but although she was ready to die, he could not put her to death, for his desire was stronger than his anger. He therefore punished her with exile, and took away all her property.” 34 Born in the 260s, three events profoundly shaped Eusebius’s life and activity: (1) his encounter with Pamphilus, (2) the imperial toleration of Christianity, and (3) his encounter with the Emperor Constantine himself. Cf. A. Louth, “Eusebius and the Birth of Church History,” in The Cambridge History of Early Christian Literature, Cambridge 2008, pp. 266–74. 32

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knows the remaining and the constant. History for Eusebius is the world’s formation through the Logos, or through Christ’s endowment. Moreover, he divides history into three phases: (1) the Fall of Man, (2) the era beginning with the patriarch Abraham, which acts as a temporary appearance of the Logos, and (3) the appearance of Christ in human nature and his endowment, the Church. Eusebius considers this last phase to have begun with the Roman Empire. Its essential subject, however, is the įȚĮįȠȤȒ IJȦȞ ȐʌȠıIJȩȜȦȞ, which is neither an inconstant nor historical factor. This last time period serves to intermediates between constant (the apostolic tradition) and inconstant factors (people and history itself). In his Ecclesiastical History, Eusebius places the platonic conception of the world as his basis; its archetype is the “Corpus,” which Eusebius intends to create by literary depiction. Finally, we must not forget that Eusebius’s understanding of history follows the Christian concept of Salvation History. With his seventh book, Eusebius finalized his plan of the portrayal of the Apostle’s įȚĮįȠȤĮȓ. Between the seventh and eighth books, we find a break. The catastrophe of Diocletian’s persecution was not foreseen. Furthermore, with the persecution apocalypticism was revived. The detailed description of the church’s happy situation before the persecution is intended to justify the earlier portrayal of the church’s history. Thus, the paradisiacal original state (i.e., the church prior to the persecution) existed, after which the Fall of Man would come. The reasons for this fall lay in the contentiousness of the Christians themselves, which would mean that the church caused the persecution herself. Furthermore, she did not turn her attention to the alarm signal sounded in the imperial household. She remained dissentious and challenged the judgment of God. Throughout the entire History, Eusebius uses excerpts of original sources as supporting documents for his depictions. In this context he uses Galerius’s Edict of Tolerance as a finalization of the persecution,35 in which the state admitted the failure of the Diocletian persecutions.

35 Eusebius refers to divine providence, which has Galerius punished with an incurable illness, in Hist. Eccl., VIII 16, 2–5. The emperor is called “Į੝șȑȞIJȘȢ IJ૵Ȟ țĮț૵Ȟ” (Eusebius, Hist. Eccl., VIII 12, 6). Usually, “authentƝs” is translated as “originator,” but “consummator” fits better. Cf. W. Portmann, “Zu den Motiven der Diokletianischen Christenverfolgung,” Historia. Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte 39 (1990), pp. 212–48. But we must not forget his opinion—that pagan rulers can act as God’s instrument of judgment.

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Egyptian Martyrdom in the Historia Ecclesiastica of Eusebius of Caesarea

Eusebius end his Ecclesiastical History with this edict. For that reason, it seems obvious that this writing was composed in 312.36 During the first years of the persecution, Eusebius and his teacher Pamphilos lived a very secluded life. While young Apphianos experienced his martyrdom as he interrupted the proconsul sacrificing, Pamphilos was not imprisoned until 307. Together with him, Eusebius wrote an Apology for Origen. After two and a half years in jail, Pamphilos was put to death, prompting Eusebius to flee to Egypt, which seems to be an obvious retreat for an Origenist. With this flight, a new part of his life began, though we know very little about his story after that. He does not mention anything at all in the Ecclesiastical History. From 303 on, it is just a story of persecution. The dogmatic struggles between Paul of Samosata and Arianism remain untold. Eusebius was made bishop between 315 and 320, at a time when martyrs and confessors had great influence. We can find traces of this influence in his later writings. By back to the time of persecutions, according to Eusebius, the dogmatic conflicts appear as a perversion. At this time, the Church grew into the Ecclesia militans, which struggled for truth and a central place in the Imperium. However, it is indeed strange that this battle is not only a punishment for the Church herself but also for her persecutors.37 Between 313 and 314, the emperor’s sympathy for Christianity and the Church is no longer a secret. Constantine had already proclaimed his affection and benevolence for the church in 312,38 directly after his victory over Maxentius. 36

Eusebius’s Ecclesiastical History survived in two antique translations: (1) The Syriac version, preserved in two handwritings, from 462 and the sixth century. The translation itself may probably be dated to about 400 and was directly translated into Aramaic later on. (2) The Latin version (402) by Rufinus, presbyter of Aquileia. This one is not very precisely translated. Beyond that, he also added two books, which show the time between Constantine and Theodosius I. 37 Finally, we have to point out that Christian tradition has a strong tendency to personalization. This means, that often, the wickedness of single rulers was seen to be the most important motive. Apart from that, in contrary to the earlier persecution before Diocletian one factor is no longer relevant: the anti-Christian attitude from the pagan inhabitants, which becomes in the second half of the 3rd century meaningless. Cf. Portmann, “Zu den Motiven der Diokletianischen Christenverfolgung,” pp. 212–48. 38 Constantine’s tolerance was an expression of his inner neutrality. However, his policy on religion took very different steps and seemed to develop itself through external sociopolitical happenings. Cf. V. Keil, Quellensammlung zur Religionspolitik Konstantins des Großen, Darmstadt 1989, pp. 9–34.

II. DOCUMENTS

EPISTOLARY CHRISTIANITY: A SURVEY OF THE EARLIEST CHRISTIAN LETTERS FROM EGYPT1 L. H. BLUMELL BRIGHAM YOUNG UNIVERSITY, USA

In this paper, I would like to consider the evidence for early Christianity in Egypt through a survey of the earliest extant Christian letters preserved on papyrus and parchment. My purpose for restricting this investigation to these sources is twofold: (1) while letters represent just one facet of the available evidence, they provide a unique vantage point from which to view and assess early Christianity in Egypt and (2) on the whole are often overlooked and underutilized.2 Therefore, it seems both timely and appropriate to reconsider what this early epistolary evidence has to offer. Despite a few sensational claims for the discovery of first- or secondcentury Christian letters among the papyri,3 it is not until the third century 1

For journal abbreviations and abbreviations of other standard works, I have followed P. H. Alexander et al. (eds.), The SBL Handbook of Style: For Ancient Near Eastern, Biblical, and Early Christian Studies (Peabody 1999). For editions of papyri, I have followed the abbreviations given in J. F. Oates et al. (eds.), Checklist of Editions of Greek and Latin Papyri, Ostraca and Tablets (5th ed.; BASP Suppl. 9, 2001). The online version is available at http://papyri.info/docs/checklist. 2 This is especially the case when one considers the attention these early Christian letters are given when compared to the voluminous attention given New Testament papyri from roughly the same period. 3 O. Montevecchi, “ȉǾȃ ǼȆǿȈȉȅȁǾȃ ȀǼȋǿǹȈȂǼȃǾȃ: P. Oxy. XLII 3057,” Aeg 80 (2000), pp. 187–94; I. Ramelli, “Una delle più antiche lettere cristiane extracanoniche,” Aeg 80 (2000), pp. 169–85; idem, “A New Reading of one of the Earliest Christian Letters Outside of the New Testament and the Dangers of Early Communities in Egypt,” Nova Tellus 1 (2010), pp. 125–59. Both O. Montevecchi and I. Ramelli argue that P. Oxy. XLII 3057, a late first- or early second-century letter that apparently shares some verbal reminiscences with certain early Christian texts like 1 Clement, is best interpreted as an early Christian letter. On the whole, the evidence marshaled by Montevecchi and Ramelli in favor of Christian

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when demonstrably Christian letters first appear.4 Consequently, this investigation will limit itself to these third-century letters. Given this selfimposed temporal parameter, which is admittedly a little artificial given the means by which these letters are assigned dates, some methodological explanations and caveats are in order. Since personal letters are rarely dated (i.e. contain an actual date in the letter itself), they are most often dated paleographically with the result that many are assigned dates that span a full century, or sometimes even two centuries, due to the fact that it is not always easy to pinpoint chronologically a paleographic feature or trend.5 Accordingly, I have restricted my investigation to letters that are authorship is not persuasive and smacks of special pleading. For a critical evaluation of their arguments see L. H. Blumell, “Is P. Oxy. XLII 3057 the Earliest Christian Letter?,” in T. J. Kraus and T. Nicklas (eds.), Early Christian Manuscripts: Examples of Applied Method and Approach, Leiden 2010, pp. 97– 113; G. Synder, Ante Pacem: Archaeological Evidence of Church Life Before Constantine, Macon 2003, pp. 268–70 cites a number of second-century letters but none of them are demonstrably Christian and their “Christian” characteristics are based upon rather tenuous assumptions and identifications. 4 Likewise, in documentary texts in general it is not until the third century when Christians first begin to appear. The earliest extant documentary papyrus mentioning a “Chrestian” sic (i.e. Christian) is SB XVI 12497, a list of nominations to liturgies from the Arsinoite that dates to the first half of the third century AD. In col. III.49–50 it mentions a potential nominee: “Antonius Dioscorus, son of Horigenes, from Alexandria... Dioscorus is a Chrestian...” The next reference to a Christian in the papyri can be found in P. Oxy. XLII 3035, a summons dated Feb. 28, AD 256 that was sent from the city of Oxyrhynchus to the nearby village of Mermertha. In ll. 3–5 it reads as follows: “Immediately send up Petosorapis son of Horus, a Chresianos (i.e. Christian).” The next reference also comes from Oxyrhynchus and can be found in P. Oxy. XLIII 3119 that dates ca. AD 259/60. On the date of this text see L. H. Blumell, “The Date of P.Oxy. XLIII 3119, the Deputy-Prefect Lucius Mussius Aemilianus, and the Persecution of Christians by Valerian and Gallienus,” ZPE 186 (2013), pp. 111–13. See also E. G. Whitehorne, “P. Oxy. XLIII 3119: A Document of Valerian’s Persecution?,” ZPE 24 (1977), pp. 187–96. On evidence for Christians in documentary papyri see D. G. Martinez, “The Papyri and Early Christianity,” in R. S. Bagnall (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Papyrology, Oxford 2009, pp. 601–607. It should be noted that there are extant Christian literary fragments that date to the second century. For a responsible dating and assessment of early Christian New Testament fragments see P. Orsini and W. Clarysse, “Early New Testament Manuscripts and their Dates: A Critique of Theological Paleography,” ETL 88/4 (2012), pp. 443–74; see also R. S. Bagnall, Early Christian Books in Egypt, Princeton 2009; L. W. Hurtado, The Earliest Christian Artifacts, Grand Rapids 2006. 5 H. I. Bell, “Evidences of Christianity in Egypt During the Roman Period,” HTR

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securely dated to the third century. On a related methodological note, a few words should be said here about the method used in this survey to identify a “Christian” letter.6 In general, I have based my identification on secure Christian markers like nomina sacra, which are the primary indicators in most early Christian letters, as well as the use of securely Christian titles or language. While this has limited the number of letters under consideration, it has the advantage of ensuring that the letters treated in this survey were actually sent by Christians and that the observations derived from them are indicative of Christianity in third-century Egypt.7

P.Bas. 168 The first letter I would like to discuss is P.Bas. 16 because there is good reason to believe that it is currently the earliest extant Christian letter.9 This letter was written on the back of a document that subsequently

37 (1944), p. 195 noted the following with respect to dating letters: “Cursive hands can be dated with more confidence than those of the literary papyri; but private letters, written so often by non-professional hands and sometimes in an inexpert and clumsy script, are not the easiest of documents to date ...” See also R. S. Bagnall, Reading Papyri, Writing Ancient History, London 1995, pp. 25–26. 6 This is a broad topic with many different opinions. For recent methodologies see L. H. Blumell, Lettered Christians: Christians, Letters, and Late Antique Oxyrhynchus, Leiden 2012, pp. 27–88; A. M. Luijendijk, Greetings in the Lord: Early Christians and the Oxyrhynchus Papyri, Cambridge 2008, pp. 25–78; M. Choat, Belief and Cult in Fourth-Century Papyri, Turnhout 2006. 7 For example, I am not including P. Harr. I 107 in this investigation, because while it was thought for a time to be the earliest Christian letter, more recently this identification has been challenged. See I. Gardner, A. Nobbs, and M. Choat, “P.Harr. 107: Is This Another Greek Manichaean Letter?,” ZPE 131 (2000), pp. 118–24. 8 Besides the editio princeps, editions of this letter are published in G. Ghedini, Lettere cristiane: Dai papiri greci del III e IV secolo, Milano 1923, pp. 58–64 (no. 3); C. Wessely, Les plus anciens monuments du christianisme écrits sur papyrus, Paris 1924, 2.380–83; and M. Naldini, Il cristianesimo in Egitto: Lettere private nei papiri dei secoli II–IV, Firenze 1968, pp. 73–75 (no. 4). See also E. A. Judge and S. R. Pickering, “Papyrus Documentation of Church and Community in Egypt to the Mid-Fourth Century,” JAC 20 (1977), pp. 50–51. 9 This text was first edited by E. Rabel with the help of U. Wilcken. In this edition of the papyrus Wilcken made the following remark that still holds true (P.Bas. p. 65): “Dieser Brief ist also einer der ältesten christlichen Briefe auf Papyrus, wenn nicht der älteste.”

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had been reused to accommodate the present letter.10 The papyrus has four vertical folds, which has resulted in some damage to the text, but the letter is mostly intact aside from the left margin where the beginning of each line is missing three or four letters. While the letter is without provenance, for a time it was thought to come from the Great Oasis.11 Ulrich Wilcken, who helped edit this letter, dated it to the first half of the third century and noted that it shared parallels with texts in the Heroninus correspondence in P.Flor. II.12 Since Wilcken’s initial paleographic assessment of the letter back in 1917, subsequent commentators on this letter have endorsed this date.13 Though this letter may well date to the early part of the third century, in my opinion, a date more toward the middle of the third century seems a little more probable based on paleographic comparanda.14 The letter can readily be identified as Christian because in the closing valediction the writer employs a nomen sacrum: ll. 19–21, ਥȡȡ૵ıșĮȓ ıİ İ੡ȤȠȝĮȚ ੒ȜȠțȜȒ[ȡȦ]Ȣ ਥȞ ț(ȣȡȓ)૳ (“Farewell, I pray for your health in the Lord”). The letter was sent from a man named Arrian to an individual named Paul who was identified as his “incomparable brother Paul” (l. 1, ਕıȪȞțȡȚIJİ ਙįİȜijİ ȆĮ૨Ȝİ). The use of the adjective ਕıȪȖțȡȚIJȠȢ, though rare, is attested and there is no indication that this title of address was exclusively Christian.15 While the name of the addressee, Paul, is not that 10

On the back of the letter there are three lines of discernable text. The final of these lines reads: (਩IJȠȣȢ) Ԋ// ȋȠ(ȓĮȤ) țȘ (“year 6 Choiak 28”). Choiak 28 roughly corresponds with Dec. 24. On this date see also n. 13. 11 Judge and Pickering, “Papyrus Documentation,” 48. 12 P.Bas. p. 65, “Darüber äussber sich Wilcken folgendermassen: ‘Für die Datierung ins III. Jahrhundert –– und zwar eher ins frühere oder mittlere –– spricht ausser der Schrift des Rekto auch das Verso, dass mich an die Heroninos Korrespondenz (P. Flor. II) erinnert.’” 13 Ghedini, Lettere cristiane, p. 58; Naldini, Il cristianesimo in Egitto, p. 73; Judge and Pickering, “Papyrus Documentation,” p. 48. The reference to a “year 6” in the document on the back of the letter (see n. 10), and keeping in mind an early thirdcentury date for the letter, suggests that the document on the back was written in one of the following years: AD 226 (year 6 of Alexander Severus); AD 242 (year 6 of Gordian III); AD 248 (year six of Philip); AD 258 (year six of Valerian and Gallienus). 14 Though Wilcken was certainly correct to note that this letter shared paleographic parallels with letters from the earlier part of the third century, given the overall graphic trends in the letter I believe there are closer parallels in texts dated more toward the middle of the third century: e.g. P.Oxy. LXXIV 4995 (Jan. 6, AD 254). 15 P. Flor. II 140.10–11 (A.D. 264): țȪȡȚȑ ȝȠȣ ਕıȪȖțȡȚIJİ ਝȜȪʌȚ (“my incomparable lord Alypis”); P. Harr. I 109.13–14 (III/IV): Į੝IJઁȞ ਝȞIJ઼Ȟ ਝȝȝȫȞȚȠȞ

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well-attested in documents from Egypt before the fourth century, this name sees a rather dramatic increase in attestations in the fourth and subsequent centuries that must surely be indicative of the rise and spread of Christianity, at which time names of notable saints became exceptionally popular.16 On this point a passing note made by the thirdcentury archbishop of Egypt, Dionysius of Alexandria (bp. ca. AD 248– 262), is certainly relevant. He remarked that many of the faithful in his day gave their children names of the apostles out of respect and admiration and specifically noted that Paul was one name that the faithful were especially fond of.17 If these remarks apply to the present letter, then it is possible that the addressee, Paul, could perhaps be regarded as a second-generation Christian. Turning to the body of the letter, its contours are a little difficult to follow given that there are a few lacunae combined with the fact that it contains a certain degree of implicit information––i.e. information previously shared between the sender and addressee that is not made explicit in the letter but is simply assumed. While the tone of the letter is a little tense at times as Arrian reminds Paul that he wants to avoid “trouble” (ll. 7–8, ਥȞȠȤȜȑȦ), the letter need not be read in terms of the persecution of Christians, as some have previously done.18 Rather, it appears that the tension that is present in certain parts of the letter has to do with the fact IJઁȞ ਕıȪȖțȡȚIJȠȞ ʌȡȠıĮȖȠȡİȪȦ (“I especially salute the incomparable Antas Ammonius himself”); CPR XXV 3.7–8 (IV): ț઄ȡȚİ ਙįİȜijİ ਕı઄ȞțȡȚIJİ (“my incomparable lord brother”); PSI IV 311.28 (ca. AD 330): ਙįİȜijİ ਕıȪȖțȡȚIJİ (“O incomparable brother”); PSI VII 783.9–10 (ca. AD 357): ਥȡȡ૵ıș(ĮȚ) ʌҕȠҕȜȜȠ૙Ȣ ȤȡȩȞȠȚȢҕ İ੡ȤȠҕȝĮȚ ʌҕȐҕIJҕİȡ ਕıȪȞțȡȚIJIJİ (“Farewell, I pray for you often incomparable father”). Cf. P. Oxy. X 1298.1 (ca. AD 330); P. Abinn. 30.6 (mid IV); SB XXIV 16204.21 (IV/V). The first Christian use of ਕıȪȖțȡȚIJȠȢ as an epistolary epithet can be found in Ignatius of Antioch, Sym. 13.2: ǻ੺ijȞȠȞ IJઁȞ ਕı઄ȖțȡȚIJȠȞ (“[I salute] incomparable Daphnus”). 16 R. S. Bagnall, “Religious Conversion and Onomastic Change in Early Byzantine Egypt,” BASP 19 (1982), pp. 105–24; G. H. R. Horsley, “Name Change as an Indication of Religious Conversion in Antiquity,” Numen 34 (1987), pp. 1–17; Blumell, Lettered Christians, pp. 237–75; M. Depauw and W. Clarysse, “How Christian was Fourth Century Egypt? Onomastic Perspectives on Conversion,” VC 67 (2013), pp. 407–35. 17 Eusebius, Hist. Eccl., 7.25.14: “I [Dionysius] hold that there have been many persons of the same name as John the apostle, for out of love for him, admiring and emulating him, and desirous of being loved by the Lord even as he was many assumed the same name; even as the children of the faithful are often called after Paul and also after Peter.” 18 Ghedini, Lettere cristiane, p. 58; Naldini, Il cristianesimo in Egitto, p. 73.

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that Arrian is either threatened with appointment to the gymnasiarchy or is perhaps already holding this office and is having trouble finding a successor so that he can free himself from this obligation (ll. 6–8).19 The reference to the ȕȠȣȜȒ, or “council,” in l. 9 that follows, though used in reference for an associate of Arrian’s, implies that at the very least Arrian moved in the circle of the bouletic class––wealthy local elites who helped conduct civic affairs––and one would expect such for a gymnasiarch or a candidate for the gymnasiarchy. Thus, the letter seemingly serves as evidence for a well-to-do Christian family at the start or middle of the third century who were a part of the governing class in some Egyptian metropolis. While the trouble Arrian was experiencing as a result of the gymnasiarchy is present in the letter, it also does not seem overwhelming as the letter quickly shifts to a request for some fish sauce (l. 11, ȖĮȡȑȜĮȚȠȞ) and concludes with a number of greetings sent to the extended family of Paul (ll. 13–19).

P.Bas. 1620 Greetings, my incomparable lord brother Paul, I, Arrian, salute you. I pray that the best things in life may be yours. Since . . . [name] is coming to you I thought it necessary to salute you together with our lord father. And now may I remind you about the gymnasiarchy, lest we have trouble here, for Heracleides is not able to . . . for he has been nominated to the council . . . but also send the fish sauce to me––the kind that you reckon to be good. Our lady has given birth and is in good health, she salutes you (pl.) together with your wives and your sweetest children . . . brethren and all ours. Salute our brother Diogenes also called Xoides. All those with us salute you. Farewell, I pray for your health in the Lord.

P.Vind.Sijp. 2621 Chronologically, the next letter of Christian provenance appears to be P. Vind. Sijp. 26, which likely dates to ca. AD 270–74.22 This letter was

19

Judge and Pickering, “Papyrus Documentation,” p. 51. Translations for all letters are my own unless otherwise noted. 21 Besides the editio princeps, editions of this letter are also published in M. Naldini, Il cristianesimo in Egitto, pp. 107–109 (no. 13); Blumell, Lettered Christians, pp.126–127; and L. H. Blumell and Thomas A. Wayment, Christian Oxyrhynchus: Texts, Documents, and Sources, Waco 2015, pp. 461–63. 20

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written on the front and back of a rectangular papyrus that is well preserved. Though there are six vertical fold lines on the papyrus, they have caused relatively little damage to the text. The letter is preserved in its entirety and given a reference to the Oxyrhynchite nome in l. 15 (ਥȞ IJ૶ ੗ȟȣȡȣȖȤİȓIJૉ) the provenance of the letter can be readily established. This letter was sent by a man named Asclepius, who identifies himself as the “assistant of the collector” (l. 2, ȕȠȘșઁȢ ਥʌİȓțIJȠȣ), to another individual named Hieracammon who is described in the address on the back of the letter as the “marshal of the strategus in Cynopolis” (l. 15, ਲȖȠȣȝȑȞ૳ IJȠ૨ ıIJȡ(ĮIJȘȖȠ૨) ਥȞ ȀȣȞ૵). Thus, both the sender and the addressee worked in the lower echelons of nome administration in the Oxyrhynchite and the Cynopolite.23 The sole Christian marker in this letter, which is otherwise preoccupied with a request and delivery instructions for some wine, occurs in the valediction at the end of the letter. Here Asclepius concludes the letter as follows: ll. 21–24, ਥȡȡ૵ıșĮȓ ıİ, țȪȡȚİ ਙįİȜijİ ਥȞ șİ૶ ʌȩȜȜȠȚȢ ȤȡȩȞȠȚȢ İ੡ȤȠȝĮȚ (“I pray, lord brother, for your health for many years in God”). The prepositional phrase ਥȞ șİ૶ (“in God”), though subtle, should be taken as a distinct Christian marker even without the use of a nomen sacrum for șİȩȢ. Beginning in the third century a distinct epistolary shift in greetings and valedictions may be noted with the emergence of phrases like ਥȞ șİ૶ (“in God”), ਥȞ țȣȡȓ૳ (“in the Lord”), and ਥȞ țȣȡȓ૳ șİ૶ (“in the Lord God”). As one surveys the usage of the phrase ਥȞ șİ૶ (or alternatively ਥȞ țȣȡȓ૳) it becomes clear that it can be traced back to certain letters in the New Testament. With the specific case of ਥȞ șİ૶, it first appears in 1 Thessalonians 1:1, 2 Thessalonians 1:1, and Jude 1, after which it can be seen in greetings and valedictions of certain letters of Ignatius of Antioch.24 Over time it develops into a standard epistolary formula in Christian letters. Therefore, even when this phrase is employed without a nomen sacrum, as it is here, it establishes that the writer was a Christian. In fact, there is hardly an example where the uncontracted phrase ਥȞ șİ૶ (or ਥȞ țȣȡȓ૳/ਥȞ țȣȡȓ૳ șİ૶) appears in a greeting/valediction of a letter in a decidedly non-Christian context.25 22

This date has been proposed based on parallels given for the prices of wine mentioned in the letter in ll. 15–18; see H.-J. Drexhage, Preise, Mieten/Pachten, Kosten und Löhne im römischen Ägypten, St. Katharinen 1991, p. 65. 23 For a discussion of these offices see Blumell and Wayment, Christian Oxyrhynchus, pp. 461–63. 24 Eph. 1.1, 21.2; Magn. 1.1; Rom. 1.1; Pol. 1.1. 25 Furthermore, frequently when this uncontracted phrase does occur the letter can be established as Christian on other grounds: G. Ghedini, Lettere cristiane, p. 13;

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In this letter Asclepius begins by reminding Hieracammon of a previous visit and proceeds to talk about a third-party wine seller named Silvanus who wanted payment to be made through Hieracammon. Accordingly, Asclepius informs Hieracammon of the amount of wine he desires and of the previously agreed upon prices. Asclepius also informs Hieracammon that the one bearing the letter will transport the wine back to him and concludes by asking for a return letter as soon as possible. While this letter is, on the whole, rather mundane it is significant because it reveals that in the pre-Constantinian period at least some Christians had come to occupy the lower levels of nome administration.

P.Vind.Sijp. 26 To my lord brother Hieracammon, Asclepius, assistant of the collector, (sends) greetings. Remember brother when I was in Cynopolis, having dined with you, and when I was about to return I spoke with you about Silvanus the attendant who had some cheap wine and who desired that payment is given through you my brother. I ask you to do these things, to give these things to the one bearing my letter so that he can bring them to me in the Oxyrhynchite. That is, 2 diplokerama (measures) for 60 denarii and 4 simple (measures) for 20 denarii each, which equals 80 denarii, and one knidion (measure) for 35 denarii, in total 175 denarii. But do not neglect, brother, to write me in order that I should know that you have done it as soon as possible. I pray, lord brother, for your health for many years in God. (Verso) To my Lord brother Hieracammon, the marshal of the strategus in Cynopolis, from the assistant of the collector.

H. Koskenniemi, Studien zur Idee und Phraseologie des griechischen Briefes bis 400 n. Chr., Helsinki 1956, p. 162; G. Tibiletti, Le lettere private nei papiri greci del III e IV secolo d.C.: Tra paganesimo e cristianesimo, Milan 1979, pp. 29–30; M. Choat and A. M. Nobbs, “Monotheistic Formulae of Belief in Greek Letters on Papyrus from the Second to the Fourth Century,” JGRChJ 2 (2001–2005), p. 39; Choat, Belief and Cult in Fourth-Century Papyri, 103–104. The uncontracted phrase ਥȞ șİ૶ appears in the initial greeting or valediction of the following letters: P.Grenf. I 53.2 (IV); P.Kellis I 71.3 (IV); P.Wisc. II 76.3; SB XII 10800.3; P. Abinn. 5.3 (mid IV); Cf. P.Oxy. LIX 3998.2 (IV): ਥȞ șİ૶ țȣȡȓ૳; P.Kellis I 63.4 (IV): ਥȞ șİ૶ in which a Manichaean context seems likely.

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SB VI 955726 This letter is one of the most interesting early Christian letters preserved on papyrus, but because of its fragmentary nature the exact purpose and significance of the letter is somewhat obscure. It was written on the recto of a large papyrus, with at least three columns of text, but because this papyrus was later trimmed down to accommodate biblical text on the other side, the first column is almost completely destroyed aside from a few very partial lines and the last column is missing the last part of each line.27 When the letter was first published, it was dated on paleographic grounds by Bernard P. Grenfell and Arthur S. Hunt to the period between AD 250 and 285;28 but when Adolf von Harnack subsequently recognized that the references to “Papa Maximus” (col. III.5, ȂȐȟȚȝȠȞ IJઁȞ ʌȐʌĮ[Ȟ]; col. III.9, ȂĮȟȓȝ૳ IJ૶ ʌȐʌ[઺]) should be taken to refer to the Alexandrian patriarch who bore this name and whose episcopal tenure lasted from ca. AD 262–282, he demonstrated that the letter should be dated to this period.29 The letter does not preserve the names of either the sender or the recipients and it seems that it was sent from Rome to certain parties in the Arsinoite who either worked for, or alongside, the sender.30 When the 26 This letter was first published as P. Amh. I 3(a) and was subsequently republished as W. Chr. 126. Editions of this letter can also be found in A. Deissmann, Licht vom Osten. Das Neue Testament und die neuentdeckten Texte der hellenistisch-römischen Welt, Tübingen 1908, pp. 137–43 (no. 16); Ghedini Lettere cristiane, pp. 65–77 (no. 4); C. Wessely, Les plus anciens monuments du christianisme, 1.135–139; H. Leclercq, “Lettres Chrétiennes,” DACL 8.3 (1929), pp. 2782–83; H. Musurillo, “Early Christian Economy: A Reconsideration of P. Amherst 3(a)(= Wilcken, Chrest. 126),” ChrEg 31(1961), pp. 124–34; Naldini, Il cristianesimo in Egitto, pp. 79–85 (no. 6). 27 The letter is surmounted by Hebrews 1:1 above col. II and the back of the papyrus contains LXX Genesis 1:1–5 in the version of Aquila. Both Hebrews 1:1 and LXX Genesis 1:1–5 are written in a different hand and are probably somewhat later, perhaps the late third or early fourth century. 28 P. Amh. I, p. 28. 29 A. von Harnack, “Zu den Amherst-Papyri,” in Sitzungsberichte der Königlich Preussischen Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin, Berlin 1900, pp. 987–92. Harnack’s identification has been widely accepted in subsequent scholarship. 30 In col. II.21–22 the sender wrote to the recipients as though they were in the Arsinoite: ʌĮȡ‫ ތ‬ਫ਼ȝ૙Ȟ ਥȞ IJ૶ ਝȡıȚȞȠ[İ]ȓIJૉ (“there in the Arsinoite”). At the bottom of col. II in another hand, the letter is dated and a note is given that it was sent from Rome: col. II.25, [(਩IJȠȣȢ) ?]// ȆĮ૨ȞȚ Ș ਕʌઁ ૮ȫȝȘȢ (“[Year ?] Pauni 8 from Rome”). Pauni 8 roughly corresponds with June 2. In col. III.21 there is another reference to Rome: ਥʌ੿ IJ੽Ȟ ૮ȫȝȘȞ.

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letter becomes intelligible in column II it opens with the sender giving some instructions about dry goods. As it proceeds, instructions are given about some money that has been sent and the recipients are asked to purchase some linen in the Arsinoite and then go to Alexandria to deliver some money to another individual. At the start of column III the sender seemingly commends the recipients for buying the linen, which is a little odd given that the request was apparently just made a few lines earlier, so either something is missing in the text or it might be that the text contains some kind of summary of multiple letters.31 In any case, as the text proceeds in this column, mention is made of the Alexandrian patriarch “Papa Maximus.” In the first reference it seems that instructions are being given for the recipients to appear before Papa Maximus and an unnamed lector when they arrive in Alexandria.32 In the second reference it seems that the recipients are to give the money to either Papa Maximus or to another individual and obtain a receipt. Finally, they are instructed to sell the bread and linen in Alexandria at a profit and then give the money to a man named Theonas, who could well have been the same Theonas who succeeded Maximus as patriarch of Alexandria in ca. AD 282.33 The letter then concludes with the sender exhorting the recipients to hasten with the work so that the money can be sent to Rome. The letter is interesting for a number of reasons, not least of which is the patriarch’s apparent involvement in business dealings. Due to the state of the papyrus, it is unclear whether Maximus and Theonas acted solely as depositories or whether they were actively engaged on the business side of buying and selling goods in Alexandria. If the former, the implication could be that they were men who were trusted; if the latter, it should not be totally surprising to see bishops involved in business pursuits, since by the middle of the third century bishops were often drawn from among the wealthier classes of society (curiales) who had succeeded in various commercial activities prior to their ordination.34 On this front, it is interesting to note Eusebius, who reports that in the middle of the third 31

H. I. Bell, Cults and Creeds in Graeco-Roman Egypt, Liverpool 1953, p. 85, n. 2; Musurillo, “Early Christian Economy,” p. 126. 32 Col. III.5–6: ȂȐȟȚȝȠȞ IJઁȞ ʌȐʌĮ[Ȟ țĮ੿ ҕ ҕ ҕ ҕ ҕ ҕ ҕ] IJઁȞ ਕȞĮȖȞ[ȫı]IJȘȞ (“Papa Maximus and N.N. his lector”). 33 On the episcopacy of Theonas see Eusebius, Hist. Eccl., 7.32.30–31. 34 E. Wipszycka, Les resources et les activités économiques des églises en Égypte du 4e au 8e siècle, Brussels 1972, pp. 155–60; R. S. Bagnall, Egypt in Late Antiquity, Princeton 1993, p. 292; C. Rapp, Holy Bishops in Late Antiquity: The Nature of Christian Leadership in an Age of Transition, Berkeley 2005, pp. 199– 207, 211–15.

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century a man named Kolon was bishop of Hermopolis.35 In BGU XII 2133, an application for a lease from Hermopolis dated to the last half of the third century, mention is made of an individual named Kolon who is almost certainly the same Kolon referred to by Eusebius, given the rarity of this name.36 The point, however, is that in this text Kolon is the father of a gymnasiarch, which clearly establishes that he was a man of some means and was a wealthy metropolitan. Another example that could be given here is Phileas, bishop of the Egyptian city of Thmuis from the late third to the early fourth century; Eusebius claims that before he was bishop he was a wealthy metropolitan resident who was a generous benefactor to his city and performed various civic liturgies.37 Consequently, Cyprian of Carthage (bp. ca. AD 249–258), lamented that some bishops preferred commercial activities to their episcopal duties.38 Lastly, assuming that everyone mentioned in this letter is Christian, the whole commercial enterprise that seems to be going on of buying and selling is reminiscent of Tertullian’s statement about Christians in his Apology in which he remarks 35

Eusebius, Hist. Eccl. 6.46.2 in which it is reported that Dionysius, the Alexandria patriarch (bp. ca. AD 248–262) sent a letter to Colon containing a treatise On Repentance: țĮ੿ ʌȡઁȢ ȀȩȜȦȞĮ (IJોȢ ਬȡȝȠȣʌȠȜȚIJ૵Ȟ į੻ ʌĮȡȠȚțȓĮȢ ਥʌȓıțȠʌȠȢ ਷Ȟ Ƞ੤IJȠȢ) ੁįȓĮ IJȚȢ ʌİȡ੿ ȝİIJĮȞȠȓĮȢ Į੝IJȠ૨ ijȑȡİIJĮȚ ȖȡĮij੽ (“And to Colon (he was bishop of the community of the Hermopolitans) a personal letter of his is extant On Repentance”). 36 The name Kolon (ȀȩȜȦȞ) is very rare in the papyri and is only attested three other times outside of the present reference: P. Oxy. XXXVI 2757.1.1 (ca. AD 79; Oxyrhynchus); SB XXII 15221.2 (II/III; Karanis); P. Herm. Landl. 2.16.322 (ca. AD 346–48; Hermopolite). 37 Eusebius, Hist. Eccl. 8.9.7–10.1. Likewise, the land registers from the Hermopolite nome from the fourth century show that some bishops owned large tracts of land from which they accrued much wealth. See W. van Gucht, “Some Egyptian Bishops and the Date of PLandlisten,” in Atti del XVIII congresso internazionale di papirologia, Band 3, Neapel 1984, pp. 1135–40. Furthermore, some Egyptian bishops owned ships, a clear sign of wealth, and were engaged in various agricultural enterprises: P. Col. VII 160.3–4 (AD 345–54): İੁȢ ʌȜȠ૙(ȠȞ) ੊İȡĮțĮʌȩҕ[Ȝ]ȜҕȦȞȠȢ ਥʌ[Țıțȩʌ]Ƞȣ (“for the boat of Hieracapollon the bishop”); P. Col. VII 161.2–3 (AD 345–51); P. Harr. I 94. 12–13 (IV): ʌȜ(Ƞ૙ȠȞ) ਝʌȠȜȜȦȞȓȠȣ ȣੂȠ૨ ǻȚȠȞȣıȓȠȣ ਥʌȚıțȩʌȠȣ (“boat of Apollonius son of bishop Dionysius”). 38 Cyprian, De lapsis, 6: “Many bishops, instead of giving encouragement and example to others, despising their divine charge became agents in secular business; after abandoning their thrones and deserting their people they toured the markets in other territories on the lookout for profitable deals. While brethren were starving in the Church, they desired to possess money in abundance; they seized landed estates by fraud and they increased their gains by loans at compound interest.” Translation is my own.

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that many Christians were actively engaged in business by constantly “buying and selling.”39

SB VI 955740 (col. i remains unintelligible; col ii) ... to send the barley ... from the same (?) account, lest they consider what has been said ... from supplies (?) sent to him from Alexandria. With all his excuses, delays and procrastination, I can hardly believe that he did not plan this deliberately. Now if the accruing profit does not balance the account properly (?), I myself guarantee that I shall make up for it (?). If you will, sell (?) some bread ... to Nilon (?) and father Apollonius at … They have written that the money would be delivered to you immediately. Bring this money to Alexandria, after purchasing linen (?) there in the Arsinoite nome. For I promised Primitinus that the money would he delivered to him at Alexandria ... (2 hand) from Rome, the eighth day of Payni. (col. iii) You did right, brethren, in buying the linen. Some of you ... travelling with them to Bishop Maximus and ... his lector. And when you have sold the linen in Alexandria, deliver the money to Primitinus or to Bishop Maximus and get a receipt (?) from him. As for travelling expenses (?) ... after selling the bread and the linen, I beg you to give the money to Theonas, that I may collect it when I come to Alexandria towards my own expenses. Be sure, brethren, to do this as soon as possible, so that Primitinus may not be held up at Alexandria ... on his way to Rome ... And I shall arrange all things harmoniously between you and Agathobulus.

Dossier of Sotas, Bishop or Oxyrhynchus41 The final group of third-century letters belong to a small dossier comprising five letters that may be dated, with some confidence, to the period ca. AD 282–300 and concerns an early bishop of Oxyrhynchus named Sotas: P. Alex. 29; PSI III 208; PSI IX 1041; P. Oxy. XXXVI 2785; and P. Oxy. XII 1492. The date of this dossier can be established owing to 39

Tertullian, Apol., 42.1–3. The translation for SB VI 9557 is based in part on the translation given in Musurillo, “Early Christian Economy,” pp. 131–32. 41 On this dossier see Luijendijk, Greetings in the Lord, pp. 81–151; Blumell and Wayment, Christian Oxyrhynchus, pp. 463–87. 40

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the fact that Sotas is referenced in another source. In a recently discovered Ethiopic manuscript that dates to the Aksumite period (IV–VII century) and contains fragments of some thirty-six different treatises, it includes a work that has come to be identified as the History of the Alexandrian Patriarchate (not to be confused with either the Coptic History of the Church or the Arabic History of the Patriarchs). This document is especially important because it renders accounts of various early Alexandrian patriarchs that were previously unknown. For the episcopates of Maximus (ca. AD 262–282), Theonas (ca. AD 282–300) and Peter I (ca. AD 300–311) the document is particularly insightful, since it reports that under these patriarchs a number of bishops were ordained in the chora. Remarkably, under the episcopate of Maximus it is reported that he ordained a man by the name of Sotas as Bishop of Oxyrhynchus.42 Turning to P.Oxy. XXXVI 2785, a “letter of recommendation” (or perhaps “letter of peace”), sent by the presbyters of Heracleopolis to Sotas in Oxyrhynchus, the letter begins by addressing Sotas as “beloved Papa” (l. 1, ਕȖĮʌȘIJ੻ ʌȐʌĮ).43 Keeping in mind that the presbyters of Heracleopolis are calling Sotas a “Papa” surely indicates some deference on their part and suggests that, in this case, “Papa” should be taken as “bishop” and not merely as “priest” or “presbyter” as some have previously supposed.44 There are, therefore, compelling reasons not only to date this dossier of letters to the patriarchate of Maximus but also to view this dossier as episcopal correspondence. To begin, of these five letters four may properly be understood as “letters of recommendation”––i.e. the letter was sent with an individual(s) who was travelling to another community and was being given an ecclesiastical endorsement of sorts by the local church authority. Of these four letters, three were sent by Sotas, P.Alex. 29, PSI III 208, and PSI IX 1041, while P.Oxy. XXXVI 2785 (as noted above) was sent to Sotas by the presbyters of Heracleopolis.45 The three letters written by Sotas are 42 A. Bausi and A. Camplani, “New Ethiopic Documents for the History of Christian Egypt,” ZAC 17 (2013), p. 247. 43 For this reading see K. Treu, “Christliche Empfehlungs-Schemabriefe auf Papyrus,” in Zetesis. Album Amicorum Door Vrienden en Collega’s Aangeboden Aan Prof. Dr. E. de Strycker Ter Gelegenheid Van Zijn 65e Verjaardag, Antwerpen 1973, pp. 634–35. 44 P. Oxy. XXXVI p. 83; cf. T. Derda and E. Wipszycka, “L’emploi des titres abba, apa et papas dans l’Égypte byzantine,” JJP 24 (1994), pp. 23–27. 45 While the name of the sender of P.Alex. 29 is partially lost owing to a lacuna at the beginning of l. 4, and the extant text reads ]IJҕĮȢ, there can be little doubt that the reconstruction should be [Ȉઆ]IJҕĮȢ. This letter contains identical phraseology to PSI

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remarkably similar in form and content and each letter begins with the very same opening formula: ȤĮ૙ȡİ ਥȞ ț(ȣȡȓ)૳ ਕȖĮʌȘIJ੻ ਙįİȜijİ N.N., ȈȫIJĮȢ ıİ ʌȡȠıĮȖȠȡİȪȦ (“Greetings in the Lord beloved brother N.N., I Sotas salute you”). Following this opening greeting Sotas then introduces the individual(s) being recommended. In P. Alex. 29 the recommended party is a man named Diphilus and Sotas asks that he be “received in peace” (ll. 7–8, ʌȡȠıįȑȟĮȚ ਥȞ İੁȡȒȞૉ). While the phrase “in peace” may appear rather nondescript, it likely signifies that Diphilus was a baptized Christian in good standing and was therefore eligible to partake of the Eucharist in the new Christian community where he was travelling.46 In PSI III 208 the recommended party is a man named Heracles and here Sotas asks that he “be received according to custom” (ll. 5–6, ʌĮȡ੺įİȟĮȚ [ț]ĮIJ੹ IJઁ ਩șȠȢ). The precise meaning of the phrase “according to custom” is difficult to ascertain and it is not certain whether it should be taken to have the same meaning as “in peace,” so that it should be assumed that Heracles was a baptized Christian; but at the very least this phrase suggests that Heracles ought to be received with the proper reception as was befitting his status (baptized or otherwise).47 PSI IX 1041 is probably II 208 and PSI IX 1041 at the start making it virtually certain that the said Sotas issued it: ȤĮȓȡİ ਥȞ ț(ȣȡȓ)૳, ਕȖĮʌȘIJ੻ ਙįİȜijİ N.N., ȈઆIJĮȢ ıİ ʌȡȠıĮȖȠȡİȪȦ. While the handwriting of this letter is different from either PSI II 208 or PSI IX 104, since both of these letters were also written with different hands it can be assumed that Sotas simply used a scribe or secretary to write on his behalf. Thus, while the provenance of this letter is not actually known it seems probable that it originated in Oxyrhynchus. 46 Though it has been noted (P.Oxy. LVI 3857 p. 116) that in Christian letters of recommendation ਥȞ İੁȡȒȞૉ functions “to remind the recipients that it is their duty to give proper hospitality to the recommended person,” the meaning of the phrase is likely more technical and refers specifically to the fact that the recommended party was a baptized Christian in good standing. Luijendijk, Greetings in the Lord, 123 has pointed out that the phrase ਥȞ İੁȡȒȞૉ functions to alert the receiving party that they should welcome the guest with the kiss of peace, signifying full fellowship, and that they were eligible to partake of the Eucharist. For ਥȞ İੁȡȒȞૉ signifying ijȓȜȘȝĮ İੁȡȒȞȘ (“kiss of peace”) see M. P. Penn, Kissing Christians: Ritual and Community in the Late Ancient Church (Philadelphia 2005), p. 44. 47 In Christian letters of recommendation, the phrase țĮIJ੹ IJઁ ਩șȠȢ occurs on two other occasions, in SB X 10255.7 (III/IV) and SB III 7269.7 (IV/V). Unlike ਥȞ İੁȡȒȞૉ, however, there is no indication that the phrase had a technical meaning since it has no discernible history in Christian literary texts. It seems, then, that it simply meant that the recommended party ought to be received with the proper reception as befitting their status. It is worth pointing out that in 1 Clem. 1.2 related phraseology is employed as the author of this letter praises the Corinthian Christians since they were in the “custom” (਷șȠȢ) of bestowing hospitality on

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the most interesting of these three letters since six individuals are being recommended: Heron, Horion, Philadelphus, Pekysis, Naäroous, and Leon. Here, however, Sotas states that the first five are “catechumens of the ones gathered” (ll. 8–9, țĮIJȘȤȠȣȝȑȞȠȣȢ IJ૵Ȟ ıȣȞĮȖȠȝȑȞȦȞ) while Leon is a “catechumen in the beginning of the gospel” (ll. 10–11, țĮșȘȤȠȪȝİȞȠȞ ਥȞ ਕȡȤૌ IJȠ૨ İ੝ĮȖȖİȜȓȠȣ). Thus, the letter affords a brief glimpse into the catechumenate in Oxyrhynchus at the end of the third century. The references to the catechumenate are significant because it appears to confirm Origen’s observation that there were, broadly speaking, two classes of catechumens: more advanced catechumens (i.e. “catechumens of the ones gathered”) and true beginners or novitiates (i.e. “catechumens in the beginning of the gospel”).48 PSI III 208 and PSI IX 1041 are also interesting because of the material upon which they are written; instead of papyrus both letters are written on parchment. To give some idea of the rarity with which letters were written on parchment, of the almost 900 published letters provenanced to Oxyrhynchus between the first century BC and seventh century AD these are the only two. Furthermore, of the roughly 7,500 letters currently published from Egypt, between the third century BC and seventh century AD, there are only two others written in Greek that are also written on parchment, making four in total.49 Given these statistics, it guests: țĮ੿ IJઁ ȝİȖĮȜȠʌȡİʌ੻Ȣ IJોȢ ijȚȜȠȟİȞ઀ĮȢ ਫ਼ȝ૵Ȟ ਷șȠȢ Ƞ੝ț ਥț੾ȡȣȟİȞ; (“Who did not proclaim the magnificent custom of your hospitality?”). 48 Origen, Cels., 3.51: “But as far as they can, Christians previously examine the souls of those who want to hear them, and test them individually beforehand; when before entering the community the hearers seem to have devoted themselves sufficiently to the desire to live a good life, then they introduce them. They privately appoint one class consisting of recent beginners who are receiving elementary instruction and have not yet received the sign that they have been purified, and another class of those who, as far as they are able, make it their set purpose to desire nothing other than those things of which Christians approve. Among the latter class some are appointed to inquire into the lives and conduct of those who want to join the community order that they may prevent those who indulge in trickery from coming to their common gathering; those who do not do this they whole-heartedly receive, and make them better every day.” Translation taken from H. Chadwick (ed. and trans.), Origen, Contra Celsum, Cambridge 1965, p. 163. Similarly, Canon 14 of the Council of Nicaea presupposes two distinct groups of catechumens. See also L. H. Blumell, Lettered Christians, pp. 200–201; Luijendijk, Greetings in the Lord, pp. 115–19. 49 P.Iand. II 12 (III/IV); SB III 7269 (V/VI). P. Dura 46 (Late III) is also written on parchment but its provenance is outside of Egypt. A search of Coptic letters on the BCD lists only one letter written on parchment, O.Crum VC 116. Additionally,

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is more than just coincidence that the same person would write two letters on parchment and strongly suggests something more is occurring.50 It therefore seems that the material evidence provided by PSI III 208 and PSI IX 1041 suggests that the parchment on which these letters were written were leftover scraps from the production of manuscripts and that Sotas may well have been involved in the production of Christian texts at Oxyrhynchus. As AnneMarie Luijendijk has pointed out, “Behind a material detail—these two seemingly insignificant parchment scraps [PSI III 208 and PSI IX 1041]—I behold the contours of a Christian scriptorium at Oxyrhynchus.” 51 Furthermore, it is interesting to note that at roughly the same time when these letters were written, fragments from Christian parchment codices begin to appear in the remains from Oxyrhynchus.52 Turning to P. Oxy. XXXVI 2785, the sole letter of recommendation written to Sotas, as noted previously it was sent by the presbyters of Heracleopolis, a metropolis some 70 km north of Oxyrhynchus. In this letter two individuals are recommended to Sotas, a woman named Taion and man named Anos.53 Given the travelling pair one might wonder whether they were siblings or perhaps even spouses. With respect to Taion, the presbyters request that she “be received in peace” (ll. 6–7, ʌĮȡȐįİȟİ ਥȞ İੁȡȒȞૉ), suggesting that she was a baptized Christian. In the case of her travelling partner Anos, the letter states the following, “and receive for edification Anos, who is being instructed in Genesis” (ll. 7–10, țĮ੿ ਡȞȠȞ țĮIJȘȤȠȪȝİȞȠȞ ਥȞ IJૌ īİȞȑıİȚ, İੁȢ ȠੁțȠįȠȝ੽Ȟ ʌĮȡȐįİȟİ).54 As in the Duke collection P. Duk.inv. 5 (b) is a fragment of a Coptic letter written on parchment. This letter was written over a washed-out text with part of Plato’s Parmenides in Greek (P.Duk. inv. 5(a)). See W. H. Willis, “A New Fragment of Plato’s Parmenides on Parchment,” GRBS 12 (1971), pp. 548–49. 50 Parchment was more expensive than papyrus and tended to be used mostly in the production of higher quality rolls and codices; see C. Kotsifou, “Books and Book Production in the Monastic Communities of Byzantine Egypt,” in W. E. Klingshirm and L. Safran (eds.), The Early Christian Book, Washington, D.C. 2007, pp. 61–62. 51 Luijendijk, Greetings in the Lord, pp. 150–51; Blumell, Lettered Christians, pp. 178–81. 52 P. Oxy. XV 1828, Shepherd of Hermas (III); P. Oxy. VI 847, John 2:11–22 (III/IV); P. Oxy. XV 1783, Shepherd of Hermes (III/IV); P. Oxy. LXVI 4500, Revelation 11:15–18 (III/IV); PSI I 5, James 1:25–27 (IV); P. Oxy. VIII 1080, Revelation 3:19–4:3 (IV). 53 On the reading of the name Anos see A. Martin, Athanase d’Alexandrie et l’église d’Égypte au IVe siècle, Rome 1996, p. 706, n. 256; BL 11.164. 54 While the typical meaning of ȠੁțȠįȠȝ੾ is “edifice” or “building” it can also mean “edification,” as is the case here: see also Polycarp, Ep. 13.2: ʌ઼ıĮȞ

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evidenced from PSI IX 1041, Oxyrhynchus had an established catechesis so Anos could continue his instruction upon arrival. The reference in the letter to the fact that Anos was “being instructed in Genesis” probably suggests that he was in the initial stages of catechesis.55 One final element that deserves brief treatment is the reference at the very end of this letter in line l. 15 to the number 204 (ıį). This unusual letter combination must surely be taken as an isopsephy (204 = ı [=200] + į [= 4]).56 While this particular isopsephy is otherwise unattested, so that the meaning is rather enigmatic, one fairly convincing proposal is that it signifies the Greek word İੁȡȘȞȚț੺ (“peace”) since it also adds up to 204.57 The use of an isopsephy at the end of this letter may have been a way for the senders’ to gain some kind of esoteric legitimization in the eyes of the receiving party, thus adding credibility to the recommendation.58 ȠੁțȠįȠȝ੽Ȟ IJ੽Ȟ İੁȢ IJઁȞ ț઄ȡȚȠȞ ਲȝ૵Ȟ ਕȞ੾țȠȣıĮȞ (“all things that tend to edification in our Lord”); Apos. Con. 8.16.3: ʌȡઁȢ ȠੁțȠįȠȝ੽Ȟ IJȠ૨ ȜĮȠ૨ ıȠȣ (“for edification of your people”). 55 The reference to țĮIJȘȤȠȪȝİȞȠȞ ਥȞ IJૌ īİȞȑıİȚ should probably be taken to mean that Anos was in the first stages of catechesis much like Leon in PSI IX 1041.10– 11who was identified as a țĮșȘȤȠȪȝİȞȠȞਥȞ ਕȡȤૌ IJȠ૨ İ੝ĮȖȖİȜȓȠȣ (“catechumen in the beginning of the gospel”). According to Egeria, catechetical instruction began with the book of Genesis: “. . . during the forty days he [the bishop] goes through the whole Bible, beginning with Genesis, and first relating the literal meaning of each passage, then interpreting its spiritual meaning. He also teaches them at this time all about the resurrection and the faith (Itin. Egr.46.2).” Translation taken from J. Wilkinson (trans. and ed.), Egeria’s Travels: Translated with Supporting Documents and Notes, Oxford 1971, p. 162. Similarly, Augustine reports that catechesis should begin with the first verse of Genesis and conclude with the present times of the church and focus specifically on familiarizing the baptismal candidate with how the Old Testament points to Christ and his church and how the New Testament establishes the moral standards by which Christians are to regulate their lives (Catech., 3.5; 4.8; 7.11; 8:12). 56 An isopsephy, from the Greek ੁıંȥȘijȠȢ which has the meaning “equal number of votes” or “equal in numerical value,” is a kind of alphanumeric cryptogram where the letter combination has the same numerical value as the letter combination of another word or phrase that it is representing. 57 S. R. Llewelyn, “Ȉǻ, a Christian Isopsephism?,” ZPE 109 (1995), pp. 125–27; NewDocs 8 (1998), p. 172. Alternatively, it has been argued that ıį represents the registration number of the letter (Tibiletti, Le lettere private nei papiri greci, p. 191), but this proposal is very unlikely. 58 K. Treu (“Christliche Empfehlungs-Schemabriefe auf Papyrus,” p. 634) has argued that isopsephisms commonly occurred in Christian letters of recommendation as a way of esoteric legitimization, in particular cases where the sender and addressee were unknown to each other in order to add credibility to the

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The final letter in the Sotas dossier is P.Oxy. XII 1492 and is unlike the other four because it is not a letter of recommendation. In this letter Sotas writes to an individual named Demetrianus whom he calls his “holy son” (ll. 1, 21, ੂİȡઁȢ ȣੂંȢ). The use of the adjective ੂİȡંȢ (-੺, -ંȞ) is a little unusual because the most common adjective used for “holy” as a title of address is ਚȖȚȠȢ (-Į, -ȠȞ);59 while “pious” might be a better translation of ੂİȡંȢ, the use of this rare adjective might suggest something more.60 Since there are some lacunae at the start of this letter, its initial purpose is a little unclear. However, about halfway through the letter Sotas asks Demetrianus whether he has decided “according to the ancient custom, to give the aroura to the place” (ll. 9–11, țĮIJ੹ IJઁ ʌҕĮҕȜҕ[ĮȚઁȞ] ਩șȠȢ įȠ૨ȞĮȚ IJ੽Ȟ ਙҕȡȠȣȡĮȞ IJ૶ IJȩʌ૳). The reference to “ancient custom” implies that Sotas is invoking established church practice to buttress the request and the giving of the “aroura to the place” could well refer to some kind of land donation being made to the church.61 On this front, it is interesting to note that the word IJંʌȠȢ (“place”) often referred to a locale where Christians gathered or to an actual church.62 Perhaps, then, the letter could be attesting the recommendation. See P.Oxy. XXXI 2601.34 (IV); P. Oxy. VIII 1162.15 (IV); P. Oxy. LVI 3857.3 (IV); P. Oxy. LVI 3862.1 (V). 59 In epistolary address ਚȖȚȠȢ typically takes the superlative form ਖȖȚȫIJĮIJȠȢ; see L. Dineen, Titles of Address in Christian Greek Epistolography to AD 527, Washington 1929, pp. 3–4. 60 The use of the adjective ੂİȡંȢ (-੺, -ંȞ) is interesting since this epithet is hardly attested in the papyri: P. Oxy. XII 1592.7–8: IJઁ ੂİȡȩȞ ıȠȣ [ʌȡȩıȦʌȠȞ (?)] (“your sacred countenance”); P. Oxy. LIV 3759.38: IJોȢ ਥʌȚȠȪıȘȢ țȣȡȚĮțોȢ ੂİȡ઼Ȣ (“the coming sacred Lord’s day”); P. Herm. 8.6 (late IV): IJઁ ੂİȡઁȞ ʌҕȡҕȩı ҕ ҕȦҕʌҕȠҕȞҕ. 61 The phrase țĮIJ੹ IJઁ ʌĮȜĮȚઁȞ ਩șȠȢ occurs twice in early Christian literature, Justin, Dial., 87.3 and Eusebius, Praep. ev., 1.4.6. But in neither case is it a technical one to denote some specific ancient Christian custom or practice. Here the phrase may simply be a general one that Sotas uses to demonstrate that there is an established practice in the church for donating or consecrating one’s goods. See Luijendijk, Greetings in the Lord, p. 132, n. 27 who cites pertinent biblical passages for consecration; cf. L. M. White, The Social Origins of Christian Architecture II, Valley Forge 1997, p. 164, n. 63; B. Blue, “The Influence of Jewish Worship on Luke’s Presentation of the Early Church,” in I. H. Marshall and D. Peterson (eds.), Witness to the Gospel: The Theology of Luke-Acts, Grand Rapids 1998, p. 487. 62 While various definitions are given for IJંʌȠȢ in the TDNT 8.187–208 that range from the generic “place,” “district,” “territory,” or “land,” it can also have the technical meaning of “sanctuary,” “temple,” and “church.” In the fourth through eighth centuries the term was used frequently for monasteries and churches. See Wipszycka, Les resources et les activités économiques des églises en Égypte, p. 13; Naldini, Il cristianesimo in Egitto (2nd rev. ed.), pp. 425–26.

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donation of a wealthy church member’s property for the use of the church. It is worth noting that in P.Oxy. I 43V, a list of the watchmen and guards who were dispersed throughout the city of Oxyrhynchus ca. AD 295, it mentions two churches in Oxyrhynchus.63

P.Alex. 29 Greetings in the Lord, beloved brother Maximus, I, Sotas, salute you. Our brother Diphilus is coming to you, receive him in peace. Though him, I and those with me salute you and those with you. Farewell, I pray for you, beloved brother, in the Lord.

PSI III 208 Greetings in the Lord, beloved brother Peter, I, Sotas, salute you. Receive, according to custom, our brother Heracles through whom I and

Reinforcing the interpretation that “the place” should probably be taken as “church” is the fact that in a number of letters of recommendation receiving churches/congregations are identified with the phrase țĮIJ੹ IJȩʌȠȞ: P. Oxy. 1162.1– 4: ȁȑȦȞ ʌȡİıȕȪIJİȡȠȢ IJȠ૙Ȣ țĮIJ੹ IJȩʌȠȞ ıҕȣȞҕҕ ȜҕȚIJȠȣȡȖȠ૙Ȣ ʌȡİıȕȣIJ[ȑ]ȡȠȚȢ țĮ੿ įȚĮțઆȞȠȚȢ ਕ[Ȗ]ĮʌȘIJȠ૙[Ȣ] ਕįİȜijȠ૙Ȣ (“Leon the presbyter to his fellow-servants in every locality, presbyters and deacons, beloved brothers”); P.Oxy. LVI 3857.2–3: IJȠ૙Ȣ țĮIJ੹ IJȩʌȠȞ ਕȖĮʌȘIJȠ૙Ȣ ਕįİȜijȠ૙Ȣ țĮ੿ ıȣȞȜİȚIJȠȣȡȖȠ૙Ȣ (“To the beloved brothers and fellow ministers in every locality”); SB III 7269.1–2: ȉȪȡĮȞȞȠȢ IJȠ૙Ȣ țĮIJ੹ IJȩʌȠȞ [ਕ]ȖĮʌȘIJ[Ƞ]૙Ȣ ਕįİȜijȠ૙Ȣ (“Tyrannus to the beloved brothers in every locality”); SB XVI 12304.1–3: ਺ȡĮțȜҕȓIJҕȘҕȢҕ ʌ(Į)ʌ(઼Ȣ) IJȠ[૙Ȣ țĮ]IJ੹ IJȩʌȠȞ ıȣȜȜİȚIJȠȣȡȖ[Ƞ૙Ȣ ਕȖĮʌȘIJȠ૙Ȣ ਕįİȜijȠ૙Ȣ] (“Father Heraclitus to the fellow-servants in every locality, beloved brothers”); cf. P. Oxy. 2603.34–35; P. Oxy. LXXIII 4965.8–9. Furthermore, as pointed out by Luijendijk, (Greetings in the Lord, 133 n. 32) when Lactantius (esp. Mort. 48. 7–9) reproduces the “Edict of Milan” issued by Constantine and Licinius the Latin loca is used for “places” where Christians met (i.e. Churches); in Eusebius’s Greek translation of this rescript he translates loca with IJંʌȠȚ. 63 P. Oxy. I 43V col. I.10–13: ʌȡ(ઁȢ) IJૌ ȕȠȡȚȞ[ૌ] ਥțțȜȘıȓ઺, ਝʌijȠ૨Ȣ ĬȑȦȞȠȢ, Ƞੁț૵Ȟ ਥȞ IJ૶ ıIJȐȕȜ૳ IJોȢ ǹҕੁȦȞȓĮȢ (“North Church Street, [watchman] Aphous son of Theon who lives in the stable of Aionia”); col. III.19–21: țĮ੿ ʌȡ(ઁȢ) IJૌ ȞȠIJȚȞૌ ਥțțȜȘıȓ઺, ਝȝȩȚȢ ȆĮȡȐȝȝȦȞȠȢ, țĮIJĮȝȑȞȦȞ ਕȞIJȚțȡઃȢ ȠੁțȓĮȢ ਫʌȚȝȐȤȠȣ țȘȡȦȝĮIJȚț(Ƞ૨) (“South Church Street, [watchman] Amois son of Parammon who lodges opposite the house of Epimachus the wax-salve dealer”). On these references see Blumell and Wayment, Christian Oxyrhynchus, pp. 408–11.

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the ones with me salute you and all the brethren with you. Farewell, I pray for you in God.

PSI IX 1041 Greetings in the Lord, beloved brother Paul, I, Sotas, salute you. Receive as is fitting our brothers Heron and Horion and Philadelphus and Pekysis and Naäroous, who are catechumens of the ones gathered, and Leon who is a catechumen in the beginning of the gospel. Through these ones I and those who are with me salute you and those who are with you. Farewell, I pray for you in the Lord beloved brother.

P.Oxy. XXXVI 2785 Greetings in the Lord, beloved father Sotas, we, presbyters of Heracleopolis, give you many greetings. Receive in peace our sister Taion who comes to you, and receive for edification Anos, who is being instructed in Genesis. Through them we and our companions greet you and the brethren with you. Farewell, we pray for your health in the Lord, beloved father, 204 (=“Peace”).

P.Oxy. XII 1492 Greetings, holy son Demetrianus, I, Sotas, salute you. Our common … is clear and our common salvation …; for these are the things included in divine providence. And so if you have decided, according to the ancient custom, to give the aroura to the place, make it separated so that they may use it. But however you should decide concerning the work, be of good cheer. Salute all those who are in your house. Farewell, I pray to God for you continually and on every occasion. (Verso) To my holy son Demetrianus from Sotas.

Conclusion Based on the foregoing summary and analysis, it is evident that the earliest Christian letters from Egypt disclose a rather variegated picture of Christianity in the third century as they furnish glimpses of the clergy, laity, and catechumens, as well as various religious and non-religious matters and affairs. Starting with the clergy, these letters provide a few momentary glimpses of the daily activities of two bishops. The evidence afforded by SB VI 9557 seems to suggest that “Papa Maximus” of

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Alexandria was also involved in commercial activities during his episcopal tenure, and this letter might also suggest that there may have even been some kind of commercial network of Christian merchants. Turning to the Sotas dossier from Oxyrhynchus, we see a bishop providing letters of recommendation for members and catechumens alike, as well as receiving such letters, and also involved in the production of books (scriptures?) and what could be termed “fundraising” for the church.64 On the other hand, in P.Bas. 16 and P.Vind.Sijp. 26, we see Christians working in administration, conducting business, exchanging goods, and sending familial niceties. Somewhat ironically, the most notable aspects of these two letters is their normality––Christians conducting the routine affairs of everyday life. Taken collectively these letters provide a picture of Christian life in third-century Egypt that contrasts somewhat with the picture provided by Christian literary and patristic sources. Whereas the latter are dominated by stories of persecution or episodes of religious wrangling and schism, the letters mention nothing about persecution, or even fear of persecution, nor say anything about religious wrangling and schism. Thus, they give a rather unique depiction of Christian life in Egypt at this time. While I have highlighted the mundane and seemingly “ordinary” aspects of some of these letters, there are parts of these letters that are certainly noteworthy in a way that some might expect of letters sent by Christians. A couple letters refer to catechumens and these same letters refer to scriptures and “the gospel” (PSI IX 1041 and P.Oxy. XXXVI 2785). Likewise, various ecclesiastical titles appear in some of the letters like “lector,” “Presbyter,” or “Papa” (SB VI 9557 and P.Oxy. XXXVI 2785). Additionally, another letter may contain a reference to a church, or church property (P.Oxy. XII 1492), and there is an otherwise unattested Christian isopsephy (P.Oxy. XXXVI 2785). Turning to the components in the letters that establish Christian authorship, it may be noted that in most of these letters it is the use of a nomen sacrum, either in the opening address or closing valediction, that establishes Christian authorship. Or, in a couple of cases, it is the use of a distinct Christian title or phrase that indicates the sender was a Christian. The use of nomina sacra probably suggest that the Christians who employed them had become familiar with them via literary manuscripts, where nomina sacra are already attested in the second century AD. Furthermore, their placement in the letters at the beginning or the end

64 Luijendijk, Greetings in the Lord, p. 125 calls P. Oxy. XII 1492 “an ancient fundraising letter.”

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might also suggest there was an emerging Christian epistolary convention that was being drawn upon or followed. To elaborate, as the opening addresses and valedictions where these nomina sacra occur tend to parallel those found in certain letters of Paul or other early Christian letter writers (whether or not Paul or other letter writers employed nomina sacra), it seems reasonable to suppose that later Christians ultimately derived these unique epistolary forms of address and valediction from earlier letters.65 However, this is not to suggest that these letters are completely different from non-Christian letters of the same period. While the use of nomina sacra or other variations in phraseology in the opening addresses and/or valedictions are indeed novel, for the most part, in terms of their overall format and structure, these letters are remarkably similar to other letters of the same period and in many respects may be noted more for their similarities than their differences. To conclude, in this brief survey I have attempted to illustrate and highlight the historical value of the earliest Christian letters from Egypt. Though they do not provide a comprehensive overview of early Christian life, they enhance our view as they provide individual glimpses at distinct moments in time. Even if they tend to elucidate the quotidian and mundane, they nonetheless contribute to our understanding, and therefore represent both insightful and meaningful pieces of evidence for Christianity in third-century AD Egypt.

65

L. H. Blumell, “A Note on Dionysius of Alexandria’s Letter to Novatian in Light of Third-Century Papyri,” ZAC 14.2 (2010), pp. 356–61.

PATRIARCH AND BISHOPS IN GREEK PAPYRI WITH PRAYERS M. STROPPA UNIVERSITY OF FLORENCE, ITALY

A category of texts that is widely documented by findings of papyri is that of prayers, which appear in many types and on many media, written in many occasions. The use made of these texts can be placed in a sphere ranging from liturgical to private usage. Among the large number of texts from Egypt that can be classified as prayers, some present invocations in favour of the patriarch of Alexandria and the bishops. In the liturgy there are two sections with prayers expressly for the patriarch and the bishops, which mention them by name: 1) Prayers for the community, today called ‘prayers of the faithful’; they are prayers for many spheres of man’s life, the Church, peace, the patriarch and all the clergy, governors, health, crops and animals, travellers, the deceased, and those offering gifts. 2) The ‘litanies’ included in the anaphora, the most important prayer in the liturgy. This section remembers the most important figures of the Church since its beginnings, starting from the Virgin Mary, mother of God. Also listed among the important figures are the patriarch of Alexandria and the local bishop. Prayers for the patriarch and the bishops were not only written in the liturgical books, but at times they were also copied onto objects for a more limited use than the elegant and precious codices that contained the whole liturgy: a single sheet of papyrus or parchment, a wooden tablet, or an ostrakon were suitable for writing a specific prayer or series of prayers. These texts are defined by different terms:  ‘diakonika’ (ǎǓNjǔǙǗǓǔdž), referring to the person pronouncing these prayers, because these prayers were often recited by deacons (see G. W. H. Lampe, A Patristic Greek Lexicon, Oxford 1961, s.v.: “of or pertaining to ministry, deacon, or diaconate”);  ‘synapte’ (ǝǟǗNjǚǞLj), technical term of the liturgy, because they are prayers ‘gathered together’ and recited in a particular moment of

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the liturgy (see Lampe, A Patristic Greek Lexicon, s.v.: 3. liturg., “of a prayer consisting of a number of suffrages with responses or litany by which psalms or prayers were linked together; freq. abs. ǝǟǗNjǚǞLj litany”);  ‘diptycha’ (ǎljǚǞǟǡNj), with reference to the type of medium, because sometimes they were written on double panels kept on the altar, to be readily and easily available when needed (see Lampe, A Patristic Greek Lexicon, s.v.: 1. “doubled, double; writing-tablet,” 2. “diptychs”). These prayers did not undergo any particular changes over time: as of the fifth century, those found in Greek, Coptic and then in Arabic in the liturgical codices passing down the Egyptian liturgies were more or less the same. Hence in absence of other data that were not well-known names, such as those of the patriarchs of Alexandria, it is difficult to date these findings with any precision. Some prayers do not include proper names, and instead have ɟ ǎǏ˪ǗNj (sometimes also abbreviated) written in their place: it was the task of the person reading it out to replace these indications with the name of the bishop in office. In other prayers the contents were adapted to the historical and social circumstances and do actually contain the names of the patriarch and the bishop who lived in a particular place and at a particular time. 1 Here is a list of the artefacts with prayers for the patriarch and bishops: for each one I give a short description of the media (parchment, paper, pottery, wooden and ivory tablets) and a note on the contents. 2 1. O. Petr. Mus. 19 (Thebes; 5th cent.). Ostrakon with two prayers: one for peace (ưɪǡʎ ǚǏǛʐ Ǟ˜ǜ ǏɎǛLjǗǑǜ) and the other for the patriarch of Alexandria (ưɪǡʎ ǚǏǛʐ ǞǙ˹ ǚdžǚNj). The latter starts on side A and finishes on side B. 2. P. Berol. inv. 3602 = LDAB 6550 (Arsinoites?; 7th cent.). Published by O. Stegmüller, “Christliche Texte aus der Berliner Papyrussammlung,” Aegyptus 17 (1937), pp. 452-56, under the title “Fragment eines Diptychon,” it is a sheet of parchment that is torn at the top. It mentions the thank offering of bishop John, followed by a prayer for the eternal rest of the Alexandrian patriarchs. In the successive list, the name of St. Mark the Evangelist comes first, followed by the names of the patriarchs from Peter to Anastasius. This means that the text was 1

See Á. T. Mihálykó, Christian Liturgical Papyri : An Introduction, Tübingen 2019, pp. 77-79. 2 A detailed contribution on this subject, which also includes a bibliography of reference, is the volume J. Henner, Fragmenta Liturgica Coptica, Tübingen 2000, pp. 129-50, with a collection of fragments of diakonika, in Greek and in Coptic.

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written under the patriarchate of Andronicus (in office from 619 to 626), who succeeded Anastasius. SB XX 14591 (Thebes?; 7th cent.). Wooden tablet; there is no prayer, just a list of patriarchs to most likely be used as a ‘diptych’ in reciting prayers. The most recent patriarch in the list is Andronicus and he was therefore in office when the text was composed. Written after the name of Andronicus is “and apa Severus,” perhaps Severus, patriarch of Antioch, who at times is remembered together with the patriarch of Alexandria. Ed. pr.: M. McCormick, “A liturgical diptych from Coptic Egypt in the Museum of Fine Arts,” Le Muséon 94 (1981), pp. 47-54. SB III 6087 (Hermonthis?; 7th cent.). A true diptych: that is, there are two fragmentary panels in ivory. The beginning of panel A contains some prayers: for the patriarch, the bishop, all the clergy and the people, and those who offer gifts. They are followed by a prayer for Mary, John the Baptist, Mark the Evangelist, Peter the Apostle and all the holy apostles. At this point there is a list of the Alexandrian patriarchs from Mark’s successor, Anianus, up to Benjamin (in office from 626 to 665). The name of Benjamin’s successor, Agathon, is perhaps written in the top margin. Panel B contains a short prayer for the bishop, followed by a list of local bishops, probably from the town of Hermonthis. Further down still, after a blank space, is a prayer for the holy martyr of the day. Ed. pr.: W.E. Crum, “A Greek Dyptich of the seventh century,” Proc. Soc. Bibl. Arch. 30 (1908), pp. 255-65. P. Lond. Copt. 971 (Panopolis; 7th cent.). Fragment of a sheet of parchment, belonging to a diptych, in Greek and Coptic. The Greek text mentions the thank offering of an archbishop and an Orthodox bishop: the names have been cancelled and replaced by those of Benjamin and Eunomos. The text was probably written under Andronicus or Benjamin. PSI Com11 2 (Antinoupolis; 8th cent.). Irregular-shaped sheet of papyrus, written transversa charta. It contained at least 5 prayers and each one ended with the words ǞǙ˹ ǔǟǛʑǙǟ ǎǏǑǒ̆ǖǏǗ “Lord, we beseech you” (see herein). P. Grenf. II 113 (?; 8th-9th cent.). Sheet of parchment with writing on both sides. It contains 5 prayers (1–4 ending with the words ǞǙ˹ ǔǟǛʑǙǟ ǎǏǑǒ̆ǖǏǗ“Lord, we beseech you”): the patriarch and the reigning bishop are mentioned in the third one. In place of the proper names are the letters ȃǿȂ, as was the Coptic custom. P. Berol inv. 9755 (?; 10th cent.). Small parchment codex; on 20 pages it contains two series of prayers for the community and each series includes one prayer for the patriarch and one for the bishop. In place of

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the patriarch and bishop’s name is the indication ǎ‫ܯ‬ǎ‫ܯ‬WKDWLV ɟ ǎǏ˪ǗNj. Ed. pr.: H. Junker - W. Schubart, “Ein griechisch-koptisches Kircheugebet,” ZÄS 40 (1902-1903), pp. 1-31. The codex displays writing underneath, which has been erased, in Coptic; see J. Vergote, “Le texte sous-jacent du palimpseste Berlin no 9755. S. Colluthus - S. Philothée,” Le Muséon 48 (1935), pp. 275-96. 9. P. Berol. inv. 17612 = LDAB 6214 (Hermopolis?; 10th cent.). Sheet of paper, torn at the top and bottom, perhaps belonging to a rotulus, that is, a roll used vertically. It contains prayers for John the Baptist, St. Stephen and all the martyrs. The following section mentions the thank offering of the prelates in office (see herein). Now I will illustrate two papyri in this list in detail, PSI Com11 2 (number 6) and P. Berol. inv. 17612 (number 9). Both have been dated to the sixth century in the respective editions, but I identify the persons mentioned differently and discuss the elements for a new dating. 3

PSI Com11 2 PSI Com11 2 is a fragment of papyrus coming from the 1937 excavation in Antinoupolis; it has been dated to the sixth century in all papyrological studies because of its subject. According to the ‘traditional’ interpretation (Giabbani, Mercati, Naldini, Manfredi) 4 it mentions, as living people – since it wishes them a long life – bishop Chael and bishop Severus, the latter being identified as Severus the patriarch of Antioch, exponent of Monophysitism, active in the first part of the century in the whole of the eastern Mediterranean area and particularly in Egypt. The structure of the text is the same as the prayers for the community: the sheet contains five, which totally reflect the prayers of the type present in the synapte. Every prayer starts with ɫǚʍǛ and ends with the usual invocation ǞǙ˹ ǔǟǛʑǙǟǎǏǑǒ̆ǖǏǗ, “Lord, we beseech you”. The contents of the last 3

Some data about the Florence papyrus and the Berlin paper which I discuss here are presented in my article “Chael e Severo in PSI Com. 11 2 (PSI inv. 534),” Aegyptus 92 (2012 [2015]), pp. 17-36. 4 Bibliography of reference: L. Giabbani, “Esortazione di preghiera,” Aegyptus 20 (1940), pp. 17-18; S. G. Mercati, “Frammento della ǝǟǗNjǚǞʏ in un papiro fiorentino,” Aegyptus 20 (1940), pp. 212-13; M. Naldini, Documenti dell’antichità cristiana. Papiri e pergamene greco-egizie della Raccolta Fiorentina, Florence 1965, pp. 31-32, no. 39, “Preghiere per la comunità”; M. Manfredi, “Frammento di liturgia cristiana,” in L. Del Francia Barocas (ed.), Antinoe cent’anni dopo, Florence 1998, p. 117, no. 131. Repertoires: LDAB 6274; van Haelst 755; PSI XVI, p. 320.

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three prayers, almost whole – for the emperor and his court, the crops, and man and animals – are clear and complete, but they do not offer useful indications for dating the papyrus; the only remaining section of the first prayer is the last part. The second prayer, for Chael, Severus and the other bishops, shows small mistakes and gaps which do not interfere with the reading or understanding; hence, in order to date the papyrus, it is fundamentally important that the cited people are correctly identified. Here is the text of the prayer with the names of Chael and Severus (lines 3-7): ɫǚʌǛȢǗǞǓǕʏǖǢǏǣǜǔNjʐ ǝǔʍǚǑſǜխխ[ ǔNjʐ ǎǓNjǖǙǗ˜ǜ ǔNjʐ ǖNjǔǛǙǑǖǏǛǏʕǝǏǣǜ ǞǙ˹ ȣǍʑǙǟ ǚNjǞ Ǜʒ[ǜ] ȿǖ̆>Ǘ ȢǛǡǓ-] 5

ǏǚǓǝǔʓǚǙǟȢnjnjˍ ǁNj˜ǕǔNjʐ ɫǚʌǛǞǙ˹ ȲǚǓǝǔʓǚǙǟǔNjʐ ǚǙ>Ǔǖ@ʍſǗ>Ǚǜ] ȿǖ̆ǗǔNjʐ ǎǓǎNjǝǔʋǕǙǟƽǏǟʏǛǙǟǔNjʐ Ǟ̆ǗǕǙǓǚ̆ǗɞǛǒǙǎ>ʓǘǣǗ@ ȲǚǓǝǔʓǚǣǗɞǛǒǙǞǙǖǙʕǗǞǣǗǞʒǗǕʓǍǙǗǞ˜ǜȢǕǑǒǏʑNjǜǞǙ˹ ǔſ>ǟǛʑǙ ǟ@ ǎſ>ǏǑǒ̆ǖǏǗ@

4 ǞǙǟǖNjǔǛǙǑǖǏǛǏǟǝǏǣǜ pap.

5 ǞǙǟǥǚǏǛ pap.

“For the defence and protection ... and the preservation and long life of our holy father archbishop abba Chael and for the bishop and our pastor and master Severus and the other Orthodox bishops that righteously explain the word of truth, Lord, we beseech you”. This text is the result of some minimal but inevitable corrections to what can be read in the papyrus: line 4 has ǞǙǟǖNjǔǛǙǑǖǏǛǏǟǝǏǣǜ, but the male/neutral article does not make sense, so it is instead necessary to correct it to ǔNjʐ. In line 5, after ǡNjǑǕ the papyrus reads ǞǙǟǥǚǏǛ: here once again the text does not make sense and it is opportune to change ǞǙǟ to ǔNjǓ in this point too. On the basis of formulations in parallel texts, the integrations at the end of lines 6 and 7 are certain. On the other hand, lines 3 and 5 show some uncertainties: in line 3, after ǝǔʍǚǑſǜ some traces can be seen of a word that cannot be reconstructed, and at the end of line 5, ǚǙ>Ǔǖ@Ǐſǖ>Ǚǜ was probably written in place of ǚǙ>Ǔǖ@ʍſǗ>Ǚǜ. The integration ȿǖ̆>ǗȢǛǡǓ-] Ƞf the last part of line 4 fits in with the text and with the space that has been left: if only the Ǘ of ȿǖ̆>Ǘ is added, this line would be excessively short, even if we were to take into account that the right justification is not strictly followed. As a consequence, for the space, it is totally admissible to add the letters NjǛǡǓ: it fits in perfectly with the other

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titles given to the patriarch of Alexandria and makes the structure of the prayer clearer. By integrating the letters NjǛǡǓ at the end of line 4, the first name, Chael, proves to be an ‘archbishop’, a title reserved in Egypt only for the patriarch of Alexandria, and not for a ‘bishop’. Since the epithets of “our holy father, archbishop, abba” present in the papyrus are very much common for the patriarch of Alexandria, Chael is without doubt the well-known eighthcentury patriarch Chael I, who held the bishopric for a long period, around 24 years, from 15 September 743 to 12 March 767 5. The prayer on the papyrus asks for a long life for the archbishop Chael, the bishop Severus and all the other bishops. There can be no mistake that the bishop Severus was alive at the moment when this invocation was composed: it is not taking it too far to assume that the defence, protection, preservation and long life of Severus was being prayed for too, because he is associated with the other bishops, most likely the bishops of the other dioceses of Egypt. As a consequence, it is no longer possible to identify the bishop Severus mentioned in line 6 of the papyrus as Severus of Antioch, who died around 200 years earlier. Instead, it seems very likely that “the bishop and our pastor and master Severus” is the bishop of Antinoupolis – the place where the papyrus came from – under the patriarchate of Chael. As yet there is no proof of a Severus bishop of Antinoupolis in the eighth century. 6 In the eighth century, the name of only one bishop of Antinoupolis is known: Menas. We have very little information about Menas: in the History of the Patriarchs of Alexandria it is narrated that in 751 the Arab governor MarwƗn had the patriarch Chael imprisoned, together with others, amongst whom Menas, the bishop of Antinoupolis 7 This information is quite significant since, if true, it places Menas in office

5

See G. Fedalto, Hierarchia Ecclesiastica Orientalis: Series episcoporum ecclesiarum christianarum orientalium, Vol. II, Padua 1988, p. 587; E. Renaudot, Historia Patriarcharum Alexandrinorum Jacobitarum a D Marco Usque Ad Finem Saeculi XIII, Parisiis 1713, pp. 203-36. The tale of the events that took place under patriarchate of Chael are narrated in the History of the Patriarchs of Alexandria in Arabic, compiled by Severus ibn el-Muqaffa; see Sawirus ibn al-Mukaffa‘, History of the Patriarchs of the Coptic Church of Alexandria, Vol. III, ed. B. Evetts, Paris 1910, pp. 89-215. 6 In the 6th - 7th centuries, there is evidence of a Severus bishop of Herakleopolis (SPP III 64, 3 Ǟ̇ ɟǝǓǣǞʋǞ̄ ǖǙǟ ȢǎǏǕǠ>̇] Ȣnjnjˎ ƽǏ>ǟ@ʏǛ̄ ȲǚǓǝǔʓǚ̄), but obviously he cannot be identified as ‘our’ Severus. 7 See Hist. Patr., p. 179 Evetts; Renaudot, p. 227; Fedalto, Hierarchia Ecclesiastica Orientalis, II, p. 639.

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in 751; as a consequence, if Menas was in office in 751, this testimony would tie down Severus’ episcopate; he could have been bishop of Antinoupolis until 751 or after 751, the year in which we have news of Menas. Another important consequence of identifying the patriarch Chael is the dating of the PSI to the middle of the eighth century, more precisely between the years 743 and 767, the beginning and end of Chael’s patriarchate. This dating is confirmed by reading the last line (l. 14) of the papyrus, in cursive script: ȲǍǛʋǠǑ  ǖǑǗʐ  ȫǒʔǛ  ǔnj, “written in the month of Athur, day 22,” the day when it is likely the prayer sheet was written. This note was ignored until the new edition PSI Com11 2, but it is very important for the dating because the cursive writing offers more precise chronological indications than the slanted capital letters used for the prayers.

P. Berol. inv. 17612 The P. Berol. inv. 17612 is worthy of consideration, in particular owing to the mention of two figures, Philotheus and Severus. 8 The material that the sheet is made of is paper and the seams that can clearly be seen between lines 5 and 6 indicate that at least two sheets were joined together. 9 The date proposed for the Berlin paper in the ed. pr. is around the sixth century, but at this time it would be very unusual to find this type of medium. On this basis, the dating needs to be shifted at least to the eighth – ninth centuries, when this material became widespread in Egypt. 10 In addition to the type of material, in my opinion the writing

8 Ed. pr.: K. Treu, “Neue Berliner liturgische Papyri,” APF 21 (1971), pp. 78-79, no. 11. An image is available in the website: https://berlpap.smb.museum. 9 In other cases, the sheets of paper are glued to each other, for example, the liturgical rotulus with Psalms in Greek, P. Prag. I 3 (10th - 11th cent.). In addition to this Berlin fragment, we know of other sheets of paper that are written in Greek for liturgical use: for example, MPER N.S. IV 18, of the 9th century, also with Psalms. 10 Indeed, it is renowned that paper became widespread with the expansion of the Arabs (the first paper mill in Baghdad dates from 794), but somehow it was also known before this, with positive proof from the 7th - 8th centuries in the eastern Mediterranean (Egypt and Palestine). See M. L. Agati, Il libro manoscritto: introduzione alla codicologia, Rome 2003, pp. 77-79, which refers also to J. Irigoin, “Les papiers non filigranés. Etat présent des recherches et perspectives

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could also be traced to a more recent era: at least the eighth if not even the ninth or tenth century. 6RPHFKDUDFWHULVWLFHOHPHQWVDUHWKHțIRUPHGZLWK a slanted upward stroke and a very detached second stroke, with the upper part slanting more to the right and the lower part shorter and almost at a ULJKW DQJOH WKH PLGGOH VWURNH RI WKH ȝ LV DOPRVW UHGXFHd to a horizontal OLQH ZKLOH WR WKH OHIW RI WKH KRUL]RQWDO VWURNH WKH IJ GLVSOD\V D YHU\ developed ornamental apex. Two findings that display strong similarities in terms of contents, but above all palaeography, are BKT VI 6.5, a hymn to the martyrs written on a sheet of paper attributed to the tenth century, and the already mentioned P. Berol. inv. 9755 (number 8 in the list), a small parchment codex with prayers for the community. On the basis of the writing, P. Berol. could without doubt be allocated to the tenth century (for Christian texts of a very late era, see the table in van Haelst, pp. 413-14, and p. 419 for those written after the ninth century). If then we are to accept the interpretation according to which abba Philotheus (line 14 NjnjnjNj ǠǓǕǙǒſ) is an Egyptian figure – and not a Syrian saint – it is also necessary to consider the aspect of the popularity of the name ‘Philotheus’ in Egypt, seen above all as of the seventh century. In particular, in the sequence of patriarchs of the Egyptian church there is a Philotheus at the end of the tenth century: this figure could be mentioned in our papyrus, in light of the epithets referring to him. The fragment was part of a liturgical rotulus with various prayers whose length cannot be calculated because it is torn at the top and bottom. The text is set out in three parts: the first (lines 1-13) contains the commemoration of Mary, St. John the Baptist, St. Stephen, the prophets, the apostles and all the martyrs. The second (lines 14-18) in particular remembers the thank offering of an archbishop and a bishop; indeed, line 19 does not display the abbreviated name ɖǣdžǗǗǙǟ as proposed in the ed. pr., but the expression Ǟʒ >Ǐɪ@ǡ>NjǛ@ǓǝǞʏǛǓǙǗ, “the thank offering”. Instead, the contents of the third (lines 19-22) cannot be made out. In the second part (lines 14-18) the number of people mentioned, and their identity, is not certain. The identification of St. Philotheus proposed in the ed. pr. is very doubtful: 11 the title of “abba” does not seem d’avenir,” in M. Maniaci - P. F. Munafò (eds.), Ancient and Medieval Book Materials and Techniques, Vatican City 1993, Vol. I, pp. 265-312. 11 Treu, “Neue Berliner liturgische Papyri,” p. 79, points out a St. Philotheus, martyr persecuted by Diocletian in Antioch in 304. Some testimonies are known as to the diffusion of his cult in Egypt too, see Coptic Encyclopedia, s.v. Philotheus of Antioch, Vol. VI, 1960-1961. St. Philotheus is recorded among the ‘Egyptian’ saints in H. Delehaye, Martyres d’Égypte, Brussels 1923, pp. 112-13, which discusses the lists of martyrs in the prayers of invocation. A passion of Philotheus

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appropriate, but above all the indication of “Orthodox archbishop” is in no way pertinent to this figure. Philotheus was martyred at the age of 10, when he was a boy, and he obviously did not have time to become the archbishop of Antioch. A second figure is definitely mentioned in lines 16-17: Ȣnjnjˍ ƽǏſǟʏǛǙǟ  | ɞǛ@ǒǙǎʓǘǙǟȲǚǓǝǔʓǚǙǟ. The editor princeps thought it was Severus of Antioch, a figure worthy of mention alongside the patriarch of Alexandria. Nevertheless, the epithet of “Orthodox archbishop” is not among those used for that person, who was quite well known and worshipped in the centuries following his death. 12 Therefore, the identification of St. Philotheus of Antioch and Severus of Antioch does not appear convincing, either for each figure taken separately, or for the sequence in which they appear: in both cases they have probably been wrongly identified. In reality, it is clear that they are prelates in office according to the expression Ǟʒ ǏɪǡNjǛǓǝǞʏǛǓǙǗ in lines 17-18: 13 the archbishop of Alexandria, head of the Egyptian Church, and a local bishop. Considering the type of medium, paper, and the type of writing, we may seek out well-known figures who lived in the tenth century. The lists of patriarchs of Alexandria record Philotheus, patriarch from 979 to 1003. 14 Severus is therefore the local bishop: it is not known which dioceses he had because the site of the finding is unknown. Nevertheless, there were two famous Egyptian bishops called Severus in office in the years of Philotheus’ patriarchate: Severus bishop of Busiris until 1003, 15 and Severus bishop of Hermopolis. The latter is one of the leading figures in the tenth-century Egyptian church, is also known (id. p. 129); see also A. Papaconstantinou, Le culte des saints en Égypte des Byzantins aux Abbassides. L’apport des inscriptions et des papyrus grecs et coptes, Paris 2001, pp. 202-203 with bibliography, including the essential T. Orlandi, “Il dossier copto di S. Filoteo,” Analecta Bollandiana 96 (1978), pp. 117-20. The name of Philotheus appears in P. Berol. inv. 17090 (LDAB 5898; ed. Treu, “Neue Berliner liturgische Papyri,” p. 75, no. 9), but the type of text, written on parchment, is very uncertain. Furthermore, there is a Greek troparion for the martyr Philotheus in P. Ryl.Copt. 37 recto: the text is identical to the one in P. Ryl.Copt. 36, troparion for Claudius, another martyr from Antioch. 12 On Severus see Y. N. Youssef, The Life and Works of Severus of Antioch in the Coptic and Copto-Arabic Tradition, Kalamazoo 2014. 13 On this expression see W. E. Crum, “A Greek Dyptich of the Seventh Century,” Proceedings of the Society of Biblical Archaeology 30 (1908), p. 258. 14 On his figure see Coptic Encyclopedia, s.v. Philotheus, vol. VI, 1959b-1960a; Fedalto, Hierarchia Ecclesiastica Orientalis, II, p. 588. 15 See Fedalto, Hierarchia Ecclesiastica Orientalis, II, p. 620; Severus of Busiris is mentioned in Renaudot, p. 380.

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author of numerous writings in Coptic and Arabic, amongst which the History of the Patriarchs of the Coptic Church of Alexandria. 16 Little is known about his life, but emerging among the very few certain dates is the year 987, as it is the year when Severus was the first signatory of a synodal letter sent by Philotheus, patriarch of Alexandria, to Athanasius V, patriarch of Antioch. The precise date of death is not known, but it should be after 987 and fall under the patriarchate of Philotheus. 17 The hypothesis that he is the Severus, Orthodox bishop, cited in P. Berol. inv. 17612 is very interesting, however thus far it has not found any confirmations: it would definitely not be surprising if the Berlin relic were to come from Hermopolis. Below is the transcription of lines 14-18: Ȣnjnjˍ ǀǓǕǙǒſʍǙǟ ɞǛǒǙǎʓǘǙǟȢǛǡǓ15

ǏǚǓǝſǔſʓǚǙǟſ ǔNjʐ ȢnjnjNjխխխխխǝǓ ǚNjǞ ǛǓʋǛǡǙǟխխխխ Ȣnjnjˍ ƽǏſǟʏǛǙǟ [ɞǛ@ǒǙǎʓǘǙǟȲǚǓǝǔʓǚǙǟǞʒ [Ǐɪ@ǡ>NjǛ@ǓǝǞʏǛǓǙǗ

“(Accept, oh God), the thank offering of abba Philotheus, Orthodox archbishop and of abba … patriarch … of abba Severus Orthodox bishop.” I have left out the question of lines 15-16, which are difficult to read for a full and unambiguous understanding of the text. There are two possible formulations of this part of the prayer. The first possibility is that in line 15 the name of a third person appears after Ȣnjnjˍ, considering that “abba” usually comes before the name of a person, which is then followed by the specification of the ecclesiastical office, but it is not possible to read the name. Since the title of ȢǛǡǓǏǚʑǝǔǙǚǙǜ (lines14-15) and that of ǚNjǞǛǓʋǛǡǑǜ (line 16) are used exclusively for the bishop of Alexandria, it follows that the three figures cannot all belong to the Egyptian Church: a theoretical possibility, according to this reconstruction, is that it first mentions the patriarch of Alexandria Philotheus (called ‘archbishop’),

16 See F. Rofail Farag, “The Technique of Presentation of a Tenth-Century Christian Arab Writer: Severus Ibn al-0XTDIID‫´ޏ‬Arabica 24 (1977), pp. 66-87. 17 See Fedalto, Hierarchia Ecclesiastica Orientalis, II, p. 642; see Renaudot, pp. 367-68.

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second the patriarch of another city – this city is likely to be Antioch 18 rather than Constantinople – and third the local bishop, Severus. The second possibility is that the titles of ȢǛǡǓǏǚʑǝǔǙǚǙǜ and ǚNjǞǛǓʋǛǡǑǜ refer to a single person. In this case, only two people would be mentioned and the epithet ǚNjǞǛǓʋǛǡǙǟ would again refer to abba Philotheus. In this case, it is necessary to eliminate the term Ȣnjnjˍ in line 15, considering it a superfluous repetition, and interpret the next term not as the name of a person, but as an adjective again referring to abba Philotheus, archbishop of Alexandria. 19 Apart from this detail of the Berlin papyrus which is still not very clear, to me these two examples appear significant: in the papyri with prayers in Greek for the patriarch and the bishops it is very important to read the names, when they are there, and compare the contents of the texts with the type of material and era of writing in order to correctly identify the figures. In the two papyri that I have put forward for consideration, it has been possible to identify the patriarch and local bishop ‘pair.’ In the PSI Com11 2 they are the patriarch Chael and bishop Severus, bishop of Antinoupolis, a figure who was not previously known. The papyrus is dated to the eighth century and not the sixth century as previously believed. In the paper from Berlin, they are the patriarch Philotheus and the bishop Severus, probably bishop of Hermopolis, one of the most important figures in the tenth-century Egyptian Church. It is dated to the tenth century and not the seventh as previously believed. In general, in the two examples it is clear that the careful study and indepth analysis of ancient documents can lead to fresh and more precise information to help rebuild the history of Christian Egypt.

18

Among the prayers in the St. Basil Liturgy (Alexandrine rite), still used by the Egyptian church today, there appears one for the patriarch of Alexandria and “his brother,” the patriarch of Antioch; see Abraam D. Sleman (ed.), St. Basil Liturgy, Reference Book, 1998, p. 69. The patriarch of Antioch from 986 to 1003 is the aforementioned Athanasius: reading in l. 15 NjſǒſNjſǗſNjſǝǓ‫ܯ‬, that is ȪǒNjǗNjǝʑǙǟ , is a tempting proposal (see Mihálykó, Christian Liturgical Papyri, p. 78, about this identification). 19 I now prefer the first interpretation – the mention of Athanasius – over the second; I changed my mind from what I wrote in Aegyptus 92 (2012 [2015]), p. 31.

THREE INSCRIPTIONS FROM ANSINA WITNESSES OF TWO WORLDS COMBINED IN LATE ANTIQUE EGYPT C. E. RÖMER AIN SHAMS UNIVERSITY, EGYPT

Ansina is the Arabic name of the ancient metropolis Antinoupolis/Antinoe in Middle Egypt, located between Minya and Mellawi on the eastern bank of the Nile, and close to the modern village of Sheick Abbada. To be more precise, I should say that the inscriptions I publish here, supposedly come from a particular area at Antinoupolis, not from Antinoupolis/Ansina itself, but rather from a stretch of land between this city in the north, and a southern suburb of the city that we may call Upper Ansina; Upper Ansina developed to the south and up-stream from ancient Antinoupolis from the fifth century AD onwards. While we know a lot about Antinoupolis throughout its history, we know very little about Upper Ansina. Looking at the map of Google Earth (Fig. 1), Upper Ansina is clearly visible along the river Nile, 1 separated from the city of Antinoe by a stretch of 600 metres of an empty space in which only two buildings existed, a northern one, which was called by Peter Grossmann „The Northern Church“ (first described by Somers Clarke as Building C),2 and a second one, a monastic complex. 3 Both these building complexes show rather shallow remains, but entering the settlement of Upper Ansina proper, to the south, one finds walls still standing up to 7 metres, all made

1

See also the maps in G. Van Loon and V. De Laet, “Monastic Settlements in 'D\U $EX +LQQLV 0LGGOH (J\SW ޵ LQ  ( 5 2¶&RQQHOO HG  Egypt in the First Millenium AD, Perspectives from New Fieldwork, Leuven 2014, p. 159 (Google (DUWK DQGSIURPWKH'HVFULSWLRQG¶eJ\SWH  2 Christian Antiquities in the Nile Valley, Oxford 1912, pp. 187–88 with Fig. 42 on p. 188. 3 See P. Grossmann, Christliche Architektur in Ägypten, Leiden 2002 (HdO 62), pp. 520–21, Abb. 137.

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Three Inscriptions from Ansina Witnesses of Two Worlds Combined in Late Antique Egypt

of mud bricks (Fig. 2). After the revolution in 2011 Ansina has made headlines as one of the places, where intensive plundering took place. Unfortunately, research on that site is nearly not existing. George Somers Clark visited here and made some of the buildings known in his “Christian Antiquities in the Nile Valley޵ of 1912. 4 Following Somers Clarke, Peter Grossmann studied three of the churches of Upper Ansina in 1968, and published plans in MDAIK 24 – 25 (1969), pp. 144 - 168; in 1976 and 1992 the Egyptian authorities worked here under Abdel-Rahman Abdel-Tawab; more recently a survey was carried out by the University of Southampton in 2005 (only a short report of one page has been published on-line so far). 5 The three inscriptions, which I publish here, belong to a group of Greek and Coptic grave inscriptions excavated by the Egyptian authorities in the 70ies, and brought to Fustat being labelled as coming from Ansina. Where exactly they were found is not clear. It is possible that they were unearthed in the courtyard of the monastic complex in the open space north of Upper Ansina (see above). The inscriptions may have been in situ here before the SCA undertook excavations, or may have been on the site in secondary use, perhaps covering the floor of the courtyard after having been turned over; the church is to be dated rather to the seventh century, while most of the inscriptions seem to be of an earlier date, so that a secondary use in this courtyard is likely. The original place, where these inscription had been in use, would then be most likely the southern necropolis of Antinoupolis, about 350 metres north of the monastic complex. I will come back to this point. Peter Grossmann was invited to take photographs of the inscriptions in 2005 and received the right to publish the texts by Abdel-Rahman AbdelTawab. These publication rights refer to 116 inscriptions, 50 Greek and 66 Coptic ones. Sophia Schaten has been working on the Coptic material for some time, but ceded them to Alain Delattre. Two of the three inscriptions I will show here are so particular in style and language, that I have to give a short history of the city of Antinoupolis, later called Ansina, before turning to these texts. Throughout its history Antinoupolis was special. 6 It was founded on the eastern bank of the Nile, opposite Hermoupolis (Eshmounen) in 4

Pp. 187–88. http://www.southampton.ac.uk/archaeology/research/projects/ansina_survey_proj ect.page#; visited in September 2016. 6 For an overview of the history of the town see M. Zahrnt, “Aufstieg und Niedergang der Römischen,” Welt II 10.1 (1988), pp. 669–706; for recent excavations R. Pintaudi, Antinoupolis Scavi e materiali, I, Firenze 2008; II 2014. 5

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Middle Egypt, in AD 130 by the emperor Hadrian on a site which was adorned by a temple of Ramses II. Here, WKH HPSHURU¶V young and handsome companion Antinoos drowned in the Nile, so the story goes. The deified youth became the patron of the newly created city, a model of a hellenistic settlement with a theatre, a hippodrome, baths and insulae of houses in the style of the metropoleis of the Greek speaking world. Many people who settled here first, came from the highly hellenized area of the Fayum. From the beginning, Antinoupolis was administered by a city government, a njǙǟǕʏ. Antinoupolis was the seat of the pagarch of the Lower Thebaid in the Byzantine period, a flourishing city with close connections to Constantinople. From the third century, Christians are attested here, the council of Nicaea of 325 saw an orthodox bishop of Antinoe named Tyrannus. 7 At the same time, a Meletian bishop resided in Antinoupolis, but still in the sixth century under the emperor Heraclius, Antinoe had a pro-Chalcedonian bishop. This orientation towards the church of the empire perhaps highlights a society in Antinoupolis which was still more hellenized – and nevertheless Christian – than the rest of the country. By the fifth century, there were at least three very large churches in Antinoupolis; it was a centre for the pilgrimage to Saint Collouthus, martyred in that city and buried there. 8 An oracle existed in connection with his grave. In the sixth century, a stylites, a holy man sitting on a column on a hill nearby in the north, looked over the city. 9 This city of Antinoupolis, which is so well known by earlier visitors and excavations, had a very Christian appearance from the fifth century onwards. The Historia Lausiaca claims that there were 12 nunneries already in the beginning of the century. 10 On the other hand, the part of Antinoupolis about which we know so little, Upper Ansina, was developing only around that time, the fifth century AD; it was a settlement surrounded by walls and full of churches itself – as the main city obviously was at that time – and full of monastic 7

St. Timm, Das Christlich-Koptische Ägypten in arabischer Zeit 1, Wiesbaden 1984, pp. 111–28, in particular 112. See also H. R. Seeliger and K. Krumeich, Archäologie der antiken Bischofssitze I: Spätantike Bischofssitze Ägyptens, Wiesbaden 2007, pp. 5–59. 8 A. Papaconstantinou, Le culte des saints en Égypte, Paris 2001, 122–28; recently: G. Schenke, Das koptisch hagiographische Dossier des Heiligen Kolluthos–Arzt, Märtyrer und Wunderheiler, in Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium 650, Subsidia 132, Leuven 2013. 9 P. Turner 54, 1 (6th century). 10 LIX p. 153 ed. E. C. Butler, Cambridge 1904.

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Three Inscriptions from Ansina Witnesses of Two Worlds Combined in Late Antique Egypt

complexes, hostels for visitors, some workshops as we may find them in connection to monasteries. It seems that we should call that site a “huge monastic settlement” rather than a village. The question arising from these observations, and from the few excavations undertaken before, makes this enigmatic settlement even more interesting. Why would a monastic settlement find its place directly on the river (even if the run of the river shifted somehow)? Was the ideal place for those institutions not the desert, or at least the fringe of the desert? Certainly, the nearby town of Deir Abu Hinnis and the surrounding colonies of caves inhabited by monks had something to do with this location of Upper Ansina. 11 Unfortunately, we cannot answer these questions without further evidence from excavations. I hoped the inscriptions supposedly found in that part of ancient Antinoupolis might help to understand the relation between Antinoupolis and that part of the city better. But I am afraid that this is not so. They are nevertheless highly interesting in the position they take between the old classical pagan tradition, and the new Christian one. I will present here 3 inscriptions, which seem characteristic, however diverse they may be. 12 No. 1 (limestone; 43 x 84 cm x 6 cm; = No. 4 in Grossmann¶V OLVW) (Fig. 3) The first inscription commemorates a certain Constantinus in the usual and rather blunt way; Normalized transcript: 1

ȲǔǙǓǖʏǒǑɟ ǖNjǔʋǛǓǙȌ ƵǣǗȌǞNjǗǞ˪ǗǙȌ ǚǛǏȌnjʕǞǏǛǙȌ) ȲǖǖǑǗʐ ƾʕnjǓǔǑ, ɎǗǎǓǔǞʑ ǙǗǙȌ ſ. ʈ ǒǏʒ)Ȍ, ȢǗʋǚNjǟȌǙǗǞʎǗǢǟǡʎǗNjɪǞǙ˹ ǖǏǞ-

4

ʊ Ǟ̆ǗȣǍʑǣǗȌǙǟƤȢǖʎǗȉ

11 9DQ/RRQDQG'H/DHW³0RQDVWLF6HWWOHPHQWVLQ'D\U$EX+LQQLV޵Sp. 157– 75. 12 For Christian funerary texts in general see B. Tudor, Christian Funerary Stelae of the Byzantine and Arab Periods from Egypt, Marburg 2011, for such texts from Antinoupolis pp. 57 –62 and 342 – 43.

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Translation “Constantinus, the presbyter, passed away on the 28th of the month of 7XEL LQ WKH "  LQGLFWLRQ *RG JLYH SHDFH WR KLV VRXO LQ WKH IROG RI your Saints. Amen.” After the death forPXOD“ȲǔǙǓǖʏǒǑ” “he passed away”, wHKDYHWKHQDPH RI WKH GHFHDVHG KLV SURIHVVLRQ RU VWDWXV LQ WKH FKXUFK RU PRQDVWHU\ WKH GDWH RI KLV GHDWK DQG ILQDOO\ WKH UHTXHVW DGGUHVVHG WR *RG WR JLYH KLP SHDFHLQWKHIROGRIKLV6DLQWV7KH VFULSWLVLQIRUPDODQG VORSS\LQVHYHUDO ZRUGVWKHSURSHURUWKRJUDSK\LVQRWREVHUYHGDVis XVXDODOVRLQSDS\ULRI this time. The expression “JLYH SHDFH WR KLV VRXO LQ WKH IROG RI your) Saints޵ RFFXUVDOVRLQone RWKHULQVFULSWLRQIURP$QWLQRH. 13 7KHJUDYHVWRQHof Constantinus may be dated to the sixth FHQWXU\. 9HU\VLPLODULQVFULSWDQGWH[WDUHVRPHRIWKHJUDYHVWRQHs ZKLFKZHUH H[FDYDWHG E\ 6HUJLR 'RQDGRQL LQ  LQ D QHFURSROLV MXVW VRXWK RI WKH south-ZDOO RI DQFLHQW $QWLQRH DORQJ WKH URad to the south, and towards Upper Ansina 14 'RQDGRQLIRXQGQXPHURXVWRPEVRIWKHODWHSHULRGKHUH LQSDUWWKHGHDGZHUHEXULHGLQFKDPEHUVVRPHRIWKHPQLFHO\GHFRUDWHG DQG DGRUQHG ZLWK LQVFULSWLRQV RQ WKHLU VPDOOHU HQGV RWKHU FRUSVHV were FRYHUHG E\ WXPXOL, witK DQ LQVFULEHG WRPE VODb on top 7KH FHPHWHU\ H[FDYaWHG E\ 'RQDGRQL VHHPV WR EH D W\SLFDO JUDYH\DUG MXVW RXWVLGH WKH FLW\DORQJDURDGWRWKHQH[WVHWWOHPHnt, as we know it from many Roman VHWWOHPHQWV 8QIRUWXQDWHO\ 'RQDGRQL GLG QRW PDNH D IXUWKHU DWWHPSW WR date WKLV FHPHWHU\ more preFLVHO\ This VRXWKHUQJUDYH\DUG H[FDYDWHGE\ him PD\EHWKHRULJLQDOVLWHIURPZKLFKWKHQHZLQVFULpWLRQVRQFHFDPH EHIRUHWKH\ZHUHUHXVHGLQWKHFRXUW\DUGRIWKHPRQDVWLFFRPSOH[ 2WKHU *UHHN JUDYH LQVFULSWLRQV ZHUH IRXQG LQ ODUJH QXPEHUV LQ WKe QRUWKHUQ QHFURSROLV RI $QWLQRH E\ $OEHUW *D\HW DQG EURXJKW WR WKH 0XVHXPV LQ (J\SW. 15 7KH\ DUH VWLOO QRW SXEOLVKHG 7UDQVFULSWV RI VXFK LQVFULSWLRQVZHUHPDGHE\-HDQ&O«GDWKLVQRWHVEHLQJNHSWLQWKH/RXYUH MoVWUHFHQWO\DQLQVFULSWLRQKDV been unearthed E\FODQGHVWLQHGLJJHUVLQ the QRUWKHUQQHFURSROLV LWZDVFDXJKWXSE\WKH,WDOLDQH[FDYDtors, and has

13 G. Lefebvre, “Nouvelle série d'inscriptions Coptes et Grecques,” ASAE 15 (1915), in particular 841 on p. 133 (no date); cf. B. Tudor, Christian Funerary Stelae, Table III 3.4.4 with footnote 1531. 14 S. Donadoni, Antinoe (1965 – 1968), Roma 1974, pp. 141–55 and Tavv. 68–83. 15 F. Calament, Le révélation d’Antinoé par Albert Gayet. Histoire, archéologie, muséographie, Vol. I and II, Cairo 2005, p. 59, footnote 54.

182

Three Inscriptions from Ansina Witnesses of Two Worlds Combined in Late Antique Egypt

MXVW been SXEOLVKHG E\ 5 3LQWDXGL DQG / 'HO &RUVR  ,W PD\ EH DQ LQWHUHVWLQJWDVNWRFRPSDUHWKHLQVFULSWLRQVIURPWKHGLIIHUHQWFHPHWHULHV at AntiQRXSROLVDQGWRHQTXLUHDERXW WKHGLIIHUHQWVWUDWDRIVRFLHW\ZKRXVHG WKRVHGLIIHUHQWEXULDOJURXQGV FRUWXQDWHO\QRW DOO WKH LQVFULSWLRQV DUH RI WKH VLPSOHkind as the first one ,SUHVHQWHGKHUH The character of the following two inscriptions is quite different: No. 2 (Alabaster ? 38 x 66 x 3 cm; No. 2 in Grossmann¶VOLVW) (Fig. 4) Inscription on the tomb of Febronia 1

ȉ ƭʑǙȌ ȢǗǒǛʗǚǏ!ǓǙȌ ǡǙ˹ǗǖǓǖǏ˪ǞNjǓȲǔnjʑ^Ǘ`ǙǟǚǗǏʕǖNjǞǙȌ ˸ǓǚǓǐʓǖǏǗǙǗƺɪ-

4

ǔǙ˹ǗǔNjʐ ȿ ǖNjǔNjǛʑNj ǀǏnjǛʗǗǓNjǞǙ˪Ȍ ǞǙ˹ njʑǙǟ ǚǕǏǙǗǏǔǞʏǖNjȌǓǎǓNjǕʋǖǚǙǟȌNjǔNjʐ ǚNjǛǒǏǗʑˋ ǚǏ-

8

ǛǓȌǞǛʋǚǞǙǟȌNjȿǛǚʋǍǑNjɎǠǗǓǎʑǣȌ Ǟ˝ ǞǙ˹ ǒNjǗʋǞǙǟǠǛǓǔǣǎǏȌǞʋǞ˚ ɿǛˋ {Ȍ`ȌǞǑǛǑǒǏ˪ȌNj!ǞǙ˹ ǚNjǛʓǗǞǙȌ

12

ǍǕǟǔǟǞʋǞǙǟǠǣǞʒȌ ǔNjʐ ǚǛʒȌ ǒǏʒ ǗȲǔǎǑǖʏȌNjȌNj!ȲǕʍǙǟȌ ǞǟǡǏ˪ǗǚNjǛNjǔNjǕǙ˹ȌNjȲǔǙǓǖʏ ǒǑ ǎʌ ȿ ǖNjǔNjǛʑNjǀǏnjǛʗǗǓNjǖǑǗʒȌ)



16

ǀNjǖǏǗʖ ǒǓȌ, ɎǗǎǓǔǞʑǙǗǙȌ) ȲǗǗʋǞǑȌ ȉ

³/DWURQHVIXUWLHUHFXSHULGD$QWLQRXSROLV޵Analecta Papyrologica 26 (2014), pp. 359–402, in particular pp. 379–83; the inscription refers to a certain Isaak, and dates to the 6th – 7th centuries; the writing is rather crude.

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Translation “/LIH RIPHQUHVHPEOHVDSLOHRIashes that is fanned DQGEURXJKWWR JORZ E\WKHEUHDWKRIOLIH6RDOVR)HEURQLDJOHDPLQJE\KHUYLUWXHV LQOLIHDQGVKLQLQJ in KHUYLUJLQLW\ZDVVXGGHQO\EHUHIWRIWKHVZHHWHVW SUHVHQWOLJKWLQWKHmost WHUULI\LQJKRXURIGHDWKDQGEHLQJon her way WR*od shHEHJV WRUHFHLYHPHUF\)HEURQLDSDVVHGDZD\RQWKHWKRI 3KDPHQRWKLQWKHth LQGLFWLRQ” Letters are well formed, spaces between lines are kept more or less equal; the scribe shows an interest in highlighting the alpha and the omega by adding a little horizontal bar in the middle stroke of the omega, so that a small cross appears, and by forming the middle stroke of the alpha in two movements. 17 By the two peculiar letter forms, alpha and omega become the most prominent letters which catch the eye immediately. Those who could not read, may have understood their meaning, in addition to the crosses at the beginning and the end of the text, and the large cross underneath that sits on a vine. Corresponding to the elaborate style of writing, which we may date to the 5th – 6th centuries, an exquisite vocabulary is used: words like ˸ǓǚǓǐʓǖǏǗǙǗO ǚǕǏǙǗǏǔǞʏǖNjȌǓO  ǚǏǛǓȌǞǛʋǚǞǙǟȌNjO–  DUHUDUHRQO\WKHILUVW, ˸Ǔǚʑǐǣ, is attested in the NT. (TXDOO\ UDUH LV WKH QDPH RI WKH GHFHDVHG SHUVRQ )HEURnia is a name ZKLFKZHGRQRWILQGLQDQ\*UHHNWH[WRIWKHODWHSHULRGbut RQO\in one &RSWLF PDJLFDO text, 18 DQG LQ RQH &RSWLF JUDYH VWRQH LQWHUHVWLQJO\ IURP

17

About this form of the alpha a lot has been written in an attempt to give this elaborate alpha a special meaning; one observation is that by the bar in two movements, an upside down omega appears in the middle of the alpha, thus creating a letter which contains both alpha and omega, following a well known saying of Jesus “I am the Alpha and the Omega” (Revelation 22, 13). For this phenomenon see H. Froschauer, “A Ligatur von Alpha und Omega?޵ Analecta Papyrologica 14-15 (2002-2003), pp. 91–99. 18 The Coptic text is an amulet of applied magic, written on parchment, to give healing to a certain Phantuxia, daughter of Febronia; the text is dated to the 10th – 11th century, the provenance is uncertain; P. Vindob. K 8301, ed. V. Stegemann, Die koptischen Zaubertexte der Sammlung Papyrus Erzherzog Rainer in Wien, Heidelberg 1934, pp. 67–70; Kat. No. 56, p. 120, in H. Froschauer and C. Römer (eds.), Zwischen Magie und Wissenschaft, Ärzte und Heilkunst in den Papyri aus Ägypten, Wien 2009, with Pl. 6. For more literature on the piece see the homepage of the Papyrus Collection in Vienna.

184

Three Inscriptions from Ansina Witnesses of Two Worlds Combined in Late Antique Egypt

'HLU$EX+LQQLVMXVWVRXWKRI8SSHU$QVLQD  7KDW&RSWLFWH[WVHFXUHO\ GDWHG WR  $' LV FORVH WR WKH QHZ *UHHN WH[W LQ YRFDEXODU\ DQG, in FHUWDLQZD\V LQWKHLPDJHVWDNHQIURPWKHELEOH VHHEHORZ . 6DLQW )HEURQLD RI 1LVLELV LQ 6\ULD PDUW\UHG XQGHU 'LRFOHWLRQ GLG QRW EHFRPHSRSXODULQ(J\SWLQJHQHUDODVLWVHHPV.  ,QRXULQVFULSWLRQWKH person who was named after her, LVSUDLVHGDVDQRXWVWDQGLQJH[DPSOHRI &KULVWLDQIHPDOHYLUWXHperhaps she was a nun. 7KHWH[WVWDUWVZLWKDVLPLOHFRPSDULQJPHQ¶VOLIHZLWKDSLOHRIGXVW which is fanned by the breath of life, a beautiful image of mortality. The background is, of course, Genesis 2, 7, where Adam is formed of dust “ǡǙ˹Ȍ” and God gave him “the breath of life” “ǔNjʐ ȶǚǕNjȌǏǗ ɟ ǒǏʒȌ ǞʒǗ ȦǗǒǛǣǚǙǗ ǡǙ˹Ǘ Ȣǚʒ Ǟ˜Ȍ Ǎ˜Ȍ, ǔNjʐ ȲǗǏǠʕȌǑȌǏǗ ǏɎȌ Ǟʒ ǚǛʓȌǣǚǙǗ NjɪǞǙ˹ ǚǗǙʎǗ ǐǣ˜Ȍ”. And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.” The word ǡǙ˹Ȍ in this image is obviously taken as “ashes”, not as “dust”, a meaning which we find otherwise only in texts from Qumran; the concept is also known in the writings of Philo, 21 and found its way, although with a certain variation, into Coptic grave inscriptions, as into the one of Febronia in Deir Abu Hinnis; see e.g. M. Cramer, Die Totenklage (above, footnote 19) No 1, 1 - 5: “Das ganze Leben (ȕ઀Ƞࣂ) des Menschen LVW MD ZLH 5DXFK ț੺ʌȞȠࣂ), und alle Sorgen dieses Lebens sind wie ein Schatten, der sich neigt”; cf. also Nos. 10 and 11, all operating with the word “smoke”, not with the “glowing of the ashes”, which seems to be unique to the new inscription. The image of the ashes being fanned to glow is then elaborated by the VKLQLQJRIWKHZRPDQ¶VYLUWXHDQGKHUYLUJLQLW\in the new text (ll. 6 – 8). No. 3 (limestone; 98 x 57 x 3 cm; letters 3, 9 cm; No. 1 in Grossmann¶VOLVW) (Fig. 5) The third inscription is completely different in script and character, and should not be dated later than the fifth century. 19

M. Cramer, “Die Totenklage bei den Kopten,” Sitzungsberichte der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, Philosophisch-Historische Klasse, Band 219, Abh. 2, Wien 1941, No. 1, pp. 5–7; SB Kopt. I 428; A. Nicacci, “Ancora VXOODVWHOHGL)HEURQLDD'HLU$EX+HQQLV޵SOC. Coll. 18 (1985), pp. 167–73. See also G. Van Loon and V. De Laet, “Monastic Settlements in Dayr Abu Hinnis 0LGGOH (J\SW ޵ LQ ( 5 2¶&RQQHOO HG  Egypt in the First Millenium AD, Perspectives from New Fieldwork, Leuven 2014, p. 165 with footnote 7. 20 No reference in A. Papaconstantinou, Le culte des saints en Égypte, Paris 2001. 21 For the word in Jewish and Christian contexts see Philo, ed. G. Kittel, IX, pp. 460–68.

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1

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ƵǙʕǛǑȌ̆ǗǡNjǛʑǞǣǗǖǏǖǗǑǖʍǗǙȌ ǙɮǚǙǞǏǕʏǘǣ ǚʋǗǗǟǡǙȌ ǙɎǖʗǐǣǗɂǖNjǞǓǔǙǚǞʓǖǏǗǙȌƤ ǙɓǑǗǍʊǛǞʒ ǚʋǛǙǓǒǏǗɥǖǑǛǏʑǑǠNjǞǙnjʑnjǕǙȌ

4

ƻǑǗǏǕʓǚǑǗǞǙʑǑȦǗǒǙǛǏȌ ȲǗǖǏǍʋǛǙǓȌ ȌǣǠǛǙȌʕǗǑǗǖǏǒʍǚǙǟȌNjǠǓǕʏǗƤɣǛNjƤƻNjǛǛʋȌǓǙȌ ǎʌ Ǚɪǡ ǙɕʓȌ ǞǏǍǛʋǠǏǓǗȌʒǗǎʍǖNjȌ ȲǗǍǛNjǠʑǎǓƤ ȶǗǒǏǗȲǗʐ ǔǛNjǎʑ˚ ǔǟǖNjʑǗǙǖNjǓǙɪ ǔʓǛǙǗǏɫǛʖǗ

8

Ǟ˜Ȍ Ȍ˜Ȍ ǞǏǖǗǙǖʍǗǑȌ ɢǖǠNjǔǙȌ ȿǕǓǔʑǑȌ. ȢǕǕʊ ǒǏʒȌ ǖǏǞʍǚǏǓǞNjǚʋǕǓǗǐǏǟǘǙʑǏǗȲǔǏ˪ȌǏ



ȦǖǠǣǍǑǛNjǕʍǙȌ

ǏɰǞ˖ ȤǗǚǛʓȌ ȌǏǖʓǕǣ

Translation “Girl, thinking about your grace I will never cease sighing at night, and beating my chest at day. For as the book of Homer described Penelope, as such you appeared in the house pursuing your wisdom. Look! Not even Parrhasius would be able to draw your figure in an image. Therefore, I am tossed about in my heart; not any more can I still my desire for Your youth that was taken away before ripeness. May God later reunite us Both there, when I am old and will come to you.” The script is very regular; spaces between lines are kept even. To highlight the metre, there is a blank space in the middle of every second line in the caesura of the pentametre. There is no mistake in the metre ! Verses like these are used in epigrams, originally grave inscriptions of the classical and hellenistic periods, consisting of alternating hexametres and pentametres, also called the elegiac metre, particularly used for the funerary context. The wording is highly classical, and far away from any citations of the New or Old Testaments. According to the wording and the classical metre used, tone and content refer to classical themes: the poet draws on the books of Homer (l. 3) and compares the deceased with Penelope; he then mentions a hellenistic painter (l. 5). The artist Parrhasius from Ephesus (5th century

186

Three Inscriptions from Ansina Witnesses of Two Worlds Combined in Late Antique Egypt

BC) was famous in antiquity for the realism of his paintings. He was praised for having won a competition against the most admired painter Zeuxis; Zeuxis had painted grapes by which birds were attracted, but Parrhasius had painted a curtain that he asked Zeuxis to draw aside; when Zeuxis attempted to do so, only then he realized that it was painted. 22 The SDLQWHU¶V QDPH is introduced in this epigram to underline the exceeding beauty which cannot be painted even by Parrhasius, rather than for the realism for which Parrhasius was praised particularly. Among the other inscriptions of the group this text is unique. Even though it is not far removed in time from the other inscriptions – such as the two shown before – it seems to come from a different world. If all these inscriptions come from the same context – lets say the southern necropolis of Antinoupolis - these two worlds existed side by side within the graveyard. The two worlds certainly existed side by side in the city of Antinoupolis still in the fifth century. As stated above, the city had been very much hellenized from the beginning, it seems that its UDLVRQG¶rWUe was that hellenized world which the emperor Hadrian wanted to create here in Middle Egypt. A city like this developed in a way different from the development of other cities, and of course, of the villages. This becomes clear in particular in the moment, when Christianity became the main religion in Egypt. Christianity gained ground here as it did all over the country, but the old pagan world with its literature and art remained a constitutional element of the self-image of the upper classes. That stratum of society in the city of Antinoupolis remained with the old ideals of a classical education at the same time when many of those people were baptized to become Christians. They did not see any incompatibility between the two worlds. The most famous example of such a person between the two worlds is Dioskoros of Aphrodite, a lawyer of the sixth century, who spoke and wrote Greek and Coptic, and spent some time of his life in Antinoupolis. 23 In his library, parts of homeric books were found and a large codex with comedies of Menander. Dioscorus was from the village of Aphrodite in Upper Egypt. Being a poet himself, he praised high officials of his time in most elaborate verses full of the vocabulary of Homer, and even of the old 22 Plinius, n.h. 35, 65; J. Overbeck, Die antiken Schriftquellen zur Geschichte der bildenden Künste bei den Griechen, Leipzig 1868; Zeugnisse Nr. 1692–1730; RE XVIII 4, 1874–1880; Künstlerlexikon der Antike, ed. Vollkommer Rainer, II (2004), pp. 186–88. 23 For Dioskoros see J.-L. Fournet, Hellénisme dans l’Égypte du VIe siècle. La bibliothèque et l’œuvre de Dioscore d’Aphrodité, in MIFAO 115, 2 Vols. Le Caire 1999.

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Greek lyric poets. Obviously, Dioscorus considered this kind of poetry an ideal means to impress important people and to be useful for his career. Around AD 551 he writes a petition to the prefect of Constantinople in hexametres; that sounds then like this: ʈ ǚǞǙǕʑNjǛǡǏ ǖʍǍǓȌǞǏ njǙǑǒʓǏ ǚˍȌǓǗ ȢǗʋǍǔǑȌ, ƵǕ˹ǒǓ ǚǙǗǓǙǖʍǗǙǟ ƻNjǠʑǑȌ ǡǒǙǗʒȌ ȲǗǗNjǏǞ˜ǛǙȌ. “Great mayor of the city, universal support of all in need, listen to a man from the Paphian land, who is in distress.” Dioscorus called his home village “Paphian land” because the village was named “Aphrodito”! Unfortunately, the inscription no. 3 is the only one of that kind in the group of the Greek inscriptions to be published. All the other ones are of the kind of nos. 1 and 2, many of them are fragmentary. If they all come from one context, we may expect that context to be a cemetery of the city of Antinoupolis, where the two worlds continued to exist side by side. As the few excavations in Upper Ansina seem to have revealed, that suburb did encompass only one world, the purely Christian one, where we would not expect an inscription like the one of no. 3.

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Three Inscriptions from Ansina Witnesses of Two Worlds Combined in Late Antique Egypt

Fig. 1

Ancient Antinoopolis (on the left near the modern village), the nearly void space to the south-east of it, and ancient Ansina further to the south-east.

C. E. Römer Fig. 2

The ruins of ancient Ansina Fig. 3

Inscription for Constantinus (No.1)

189

190

Three Inscriptions from Ansina Witnesses of Two Worlds Combined in Late Antique Egypt

Fig. 4

Inscription for Febronia (No. 2)

C. E. Römer Fig. 5

Inscription for a young lady (No. 3)

191

A FRAGMENT OF A DEED OF SURETY NOHA A. SALEM AIN SHAMS UNIVERSITY, EGYPT

P. Cair. Mus. 10721

9.3 x 5.2 cm.

Arsinoites (AD VI)

The papyrus contains the beginnings of 10 lines. Only the left margin is preserved. The script runs parallel to the fibers; two vertical folds can be seen. The papyrus is registered as coming from an unknown provenance, but the formula, as well as some words, suggest that it comes from the Arsinoite. The length of the lines can be calculated due to the formula in lines 6 and 8; since the papyrus has been glued onto cardboard, the verso is hidden. The handwriting is sloping to the right; it can be compared with handwritings of the late sixth to seventh centuries. Cf. e.g. CPR XXIV, 24 (Arsinoiton Polis, AD 582–602). Some words in the text betray it as a deed of surety. On the one hand, the plural forms for both the verbs and the pronouns urge to consider the guarantors to be more than one person (cf. ll. 3–4 ʌĮȡĮįȫıȠȝİҕ>Ȟand l. 6 ਲȝİ૙>Ȣ). On the other hand, they guarantee only one person, as appears in ll. 8-IJઁȞਥʌȚȗȘIJȠȪȝİȞȠȞ The deed of surety documents (ਥȖȖ઄Ș) dating from the fourth to the seventh centuries were procedures commonly employed to regulate and control the relations between different parties, especially in large estates, and to keep the population stable for tax purposes by controlling fugitives. Papyri contracts of deeds of surety were usually struck between a landholding household and a third party who provided financial insurance that a laborer would remain on and work, as well as pay taxes or rent for which he was liable. Otherwise this guarantor was liable to imprisonment and other penalties. 1 1

Cf. J. Hillner, Prison, Punishment and Penance in Late Antiquity, Cambridge 2015, p. 176; S. T. Tovar, “Violence in the Process of Arrest and Imprisonment in Late Antique Egypt,” in H. A. Drake (ed.), Violence in Late Antiquity: Perceptions and Practices, Burlington 2006, 106; J. Banaji, Agrarian Change in Late Antiquity, Oxford 2001, pp. 127–28; M. Mirkovic, The Later Roman Colonate and Freedom,

A Fragment of a Deed of Surety

194

Texts of deeds of surety usually run as follows: - Dating formula - To B (the debtor) from A (the guarantor) ȤĮȓȡİȚȞ - Acknowledgment formula, VXFK DV ੒ȝȠȜȠȖ૵ ਦțȠȣıȓ઺ ȖȞȫȝૉ ਥȖȖȣ઼ıșĮȚ țĮ੿ ਕȞĮįİįȑȤșĮȚ ʌĮȡ੹ VR DQG VR«this formula may show simple changes from text to text) - The details of the surety (sometimes explaining the duration of the deed). - Stipulation clause (including execution clause) - Statement that the deed is valid - Signature of the guarantor - Signature of the notary. The current text is part of the stipulation of the deed.

Recto --------1  5

10

ҕ[ + 8 ] ҕ ҕ[ + 11 ਕҕȜȜ੹ țĮ੿] İࡑ[ҕ ʌȚ]ȗҕȘIJȠ઄ȝ[İȞȠȞ ʌĮȡ੹ IJોȢ ਫ਼ȝ૵Ȟ] ਫ਼ʌİȡijȣȓĮȢʌҕ[ĮȡȠȓıȠȝİȞțĮ੿ʌĮȡĮ-] įȫıȦȝİҕ>ȞĮ੝IJȠȞ ਥȞIJૌ įȘȝȠıȓ઺] İҕ੅ҕȡҕțIJૉ IJĮȪIJ[ȘȢIJોȢʌȩȜİȦȢ] ੖șİȞțĮ੿ ਲȝİ૙>ȢĮ੝IJઁȞʌĮȡİȓȜȘijĮȝİȞ@ İੁ į੻ ȝ੽ IJ>Ƞ૨]IJҕ>ҕ ȠȞ ] ʌĮȡĮįȫıȦȝ>İȞ੪Ȣİ੅ȡȘIJĮȚਥʌȚȗȘ-] IJȠȪȝİȞȠȞਫ਼ʌ[ ] [ +7 ] ҕ [ ] ---

II, Philadelphia 1997, p. 83. For a list of deeds of surety of the 5th–7th centuries, see G. Bastianini, “Una Malleveria dall’ Archivio degli Apioni,” Miscellanea Papyrologica, Papyrologica Florentina 7 (Firenze 1980), pp. 25–27; addenda in K. A. Worp, “Nochmals der Notar Anup. Eine byzantinische Bürgschaftsurkunde,” ZPE 47 (1982), pp. 285–90, esp. p. 287; P. J. Sijpesteijn, “Five Byzantine Papyri from the Michigan Collection,” ZPE 62 (1986), pp. 133–49; P. J. Sijpesteijn, “A Late Deed of Surety from Oxyrhynchus (P. Princ. Inv. AM 11244),” ZPE 65 (1986), pp. 163–67; N. Gonis, “P. Oxy. XVI 1979 descr.: Deed of Surety,” JJP 32 (2002), p. 29; B. Palme, “Pflichten und Risiken des Bürgen in byzantinischen Gestellungsbürgschaften,” in E. Cantarella, J. Mélèze Modrzejewski, und G. Thür (Hrsg.), Symposion 1999: Vorträge zur griechischen und hellenistischen Rechtsgeschichte (La Coruña, 6.–9. Sept. 1999), Köln-Weimar-Wien 2003, pp. 531–55.

Noha A. Salem

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Apparatus l. 3 l. ਫ਼ʌİȡijȣİȓĮȢ l. 4 l. ʌĮȡĮįȫıȠȝҕ[İȞ

Translation [N. N. acc.] from the same city (?), but also required by your magnificence; we will bring him forward and produce him in the public jail of this city, from where we also have received him, and if we do not produce this man [for any reason whatsoever], him, who is required, as is said, we will be [liable

Commentary 0–ਕʌઁ@_IJҕ>ોࣂĮ੝IJોࣂ@ʌҕંȜҕ ҕ>İȦࣂ: Only a few traces of the lower parts of these letters can be seen. Cf. CPR XXII 4, 13 (Herakleopolites, AD 626– 675). ਕҕȜȜ੹țĮ੿is suggested in the lacuna to fit with the next line; it forms a common formula of the deed of surety. This line should be preceded by the acknowledgment formula: ੒ȝȠȜȠȖ૵ ਦțȠȣıȓ઺ ȖȞȫȝૉ ਥȖȖȣ઼ıșĮȚ țĮ੿ ਕȞĮįİįȑȤșĮȚʌĮȡ੹RIWHQWKHODQGKROGLQJV LQthe genitive case) N. N. (the guaranteed person(s) in the accusative case, followed by their location in which they are attributed). Cf. the introduction of this paper; for further examples, see CPR XXII 4; CPR XXIV 24 (Arsinoiton Polis, AD 582– 602). 1 İࡑҕ[ʌȚ]ȗҕȘIJȠ઄ȝ[İȞȠȞ ʌĮȡ੹ IJોȢ ਫ਼ȝ૵Ȟ: The restoration here depends on the main verbs of the common formula. Cf. the introduction of this paper, and the commentary on l.1. - İࡑҕ[ʌȚ]ȗҕȘIJȠ઄ȝ[İȞȠȞ: The restoration here to the singular form depends on l. 8–9. This line can be restored either by ਫ਼ȝ૵Ȟ (as in SB XVIII 13951, 8 [Arsinoites, AD 487–491], and P. Oxy. I 135 [AD 579]) or by ਫ਼ȝİIJȑȡĮȢ (as in P. Oxy. I 144, 3 [AD 580]). ਫ਼ȝ૵Ȟ seems to fit the remaining space better, and is comparable to the average of characters in the lines (+24 characters), cf. lines 6 and 8. 3 ਫ਼ʌİȡijȣȓĮȢ: For ‘Ț’ instead of ‘İȚ,’ cf. F. Gignac, A Grammar of the Greek Papyri of the Roman and Byzantine Periods, Vol. I, Milano 1975, p. 57. Since such texts are usually presented to landholding parties, honorific titles like ਫ਼ʌİȡijȣİȓĮ, ਥȞįȠȟȩIJĮIJȠȢ, ਫ਼ʌİȡȠȤȒ, ਫ਼ʌİȡijșİıIJ੺IJȠȢ, ȝİȖĮȜȠʌȡ੼ʌİȚĮ, etc., are common.

196

A Fragment of a Deed of Surety

Other texts keep the name or the position of the addressee, such as the great landowner ĭȜ੺ȠȣȚȠȢ ਝʌ઀ȦȞ (PSI I 62, 5; Oxy., AD 613); ੒ ਖȖȚઆIJĮIJȠȢ ʌȡİıȕ઄IJİȡȠȢ țĮ੿ ȖȡĮȝȝĮIJİઃȢ țĮ੿ ਥʌ઀ıIJĮIJȠȢ IJોȢ ਝȡıȚȞȠȚIJ૵Ȟ ʌંȜİȦȢ ȃ. ȃ. (SB ǿ 4658, 2–3; Arsinoites, AD 651–700); ıIJȡĮIJȘȜ੺IJȘȢ țĮ੿ ʌĮȖ੺ȡȤȠȢ ਺ȡĮțȜ੼ȠȣȢ ʌંȜİȦȢ (CPR XXII 4, 32; Herakleopolis AD VII); or ʌĮȖ੺ȡȤȠȢ IJોȢ ਝȡıȚȞȠȚIJ૵Ȟ (CPR XXIV. 24, 4; Arsinoites, AD 582–602), etc. 3–5 For the restoration of these lines see SB XVIII 13952, 16–18 (Hermopolites, AD 501–600); CPR X 127, 15–17 (Arsinoites, AD 584); CPR XXIV 24, 11–13 (Arsinoites, AD 591–602); SB XVIII 1351, 8–9 (Arsinoites, AD 487). 4 Documents do not tell us more about the relation between the guarantor and the ensured person(s). Throughout the documents, we find that the guarantor may be more than one person, as in the present text. In P. Oxy. LXX 4794 (AD 580), a sole brother of two cultivators guarantees them. Sometimes documents show the name of the guarantor, and other times both the name and the position of the guarantor are mentioned, as in CPR XXII (Herakleopolis, AD 625–675): “John the cloth mender is the guarantor for Georgos the soldier.” 4–5 ਥȞIJૌįȘȝȠıȓ઺] İҕ੅ҕȡҕțIJૉIJĮȪIJ>ȘȢIJોȢʌȩȜİȦȢ: The term “prison” in late antiquity was conceptually different from modern usage. Generally, the official function of the Roman public prison seems to have been one of preventive custody, while the modern function is considered to be a comprehensive penal institute; cf. Hillner, Prison, Punishment and Penance, p. 44. Ǽ੅ȡțIJȘ as a term for “prison” was not as widely used as ijȣȜĮțȒ; cf. CPR XXIV 24 (AD 591–602); Chr. Mitt. 71 (AD 458–473). ਥȞIJૌįȘȝȠıȓ઺ijȣȜĮțૌ is the commonest phrase in deeds of surety attested in the Greek documentary papyri; for example, see SB I, 4817, 3 (AD 301– 700); SB VI 9146, 15 (AD 701–800); SB XVIII 13951, 9 (AD 487); etc. In documents dated to the later sixth century, some deeds of surety use ਥʌ੿ įȘȝȠıȓȠȣ IJȩʌȠȣਥʌ੿IJોȢʌȩȜİȦȢ. The public place of the city was at times TXDOLILHG DV ਥȞ IJૌ įȘȝȠıȓ઺ ijȣȜĮțૌ IJોȢ ʌȩȜİȦȢ. Cf. Hillner, Prison, Punishment and Penance, pp. 176–82; S. T. Tovar, “Las prisiones en el Egipto bizantino según los papiros Griegos Y Coptos,” Erytheia 20 (1999), pp. 47–55. 7–9 İੁ į੻ ȝ੽ IJ>Ƞ૨@IJҕ>ҕ ȠȞ: Line 7 and the following lines carry the penalty clause in case of breaking the terms and conditions of the surety. Line 7 can be supplemented with ਪȞİțİȞ ʌȡȠijȐıİȦȢ (“for any reason whatsoever”), as in CPR XXII 4 (Herakleopolis, AD 625–675); P. Mert. II 98 (Oxy., AD 601–700).

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8–9 ਥʌȚȗȘ]IJȠ઄ȝİȞȠȞ: This may be restored, as in SB XVIII 13951, 9– 12 (7th century). For the exact word order, see SB I 4658, 16–17 (Arsinoites, 4th–7th century). 9 ਫ਼ʌ>İ઄șȣȞȠȚਥࣂંȝİșĮ: This is a possible reconstruction, as in P. Eirene II 12, 18 (Herakleopolites, AD 492). 10 The trace is a long horizontal stroke.

ACCOUNT OF ARREARS OF PAYMENTS IN KIND FROM THE BYZANTINE PERIOD R. H. EL-MOFATCH AIN SHAMS UNIVERSITY, EGYPT

P. Lund.inv.123 Lund.Apis.130

5.3 x 31.2 cm

Arsinoites (?) 5th cent. CE

The dark brown papyrus is torn on the right and left sides, and only the upper and lower margins are preserved. Nevertheless, both sides have nearly complete texts. The recto side contains 23 lines of a list of names with a total amount of artabai in the last line, while the verso side contains 20 lines of amounts of artabai. The cursive writing runs with the fibers in black ink on the recto side and against the fibers on the verso. The document probably comes from Arsinoites, since most of the names are attested there in different centuries. The beginnings of the lines on the recto differ without any clear reason; some are indented while others are not. Only one letter is missing from the beginning of some lines (ll. 6, 8, 9,10, 12, 13, 17, 18, 19, 20, 22). On palaeographical grounds, the document can be dated to the 5th cent. CE; it resembles BGU II 609 (Kerkethoeris, Fayoum, 441 CE), cf. R. Seider, Paläographie der Griechischen Papyri, Band I, Stuttgart 1967, No. 51, Tafel 33, p. 98.

Recto ǁƷƮ ȶǡǒ(ǏǝǓǜ) ǝʑǞǙǟ ɎǗ(ǎǓǔǞljǣǗǙǜ) nj [ ǙɯǞǙǜ [

I’m very grateful to Ms. Eva Nylander, Head of Collections at the Lund University Library, for the permission to publish this piece. Many thanks to my supervisor Prof. Alia Hanafi for her valuable comments. Regards also go to Prof. Cornelia Römer for her review of this paper, and to Prof. Jean-Luc Fournet for his useful suggestions.

Account of Arrears of Payments in Kind from the Byzantine Period

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5

10

15

20

ȪǖNjǞˍǜȪǖǣ>ǗʑǙǟ ƽǓǕnjNjǗʒǜȪǠǙӭ[ >ƻ@NjǖǨǒǏǙǜȸǑǙ˹ [ ƻNjǕǏʔǜ ȪǏǓǨǗǏӭ>ǣǜ [ɖ@ǣǝʎǠ ȪǏǓǨǗǏſǓǣܷ[ǜ >Ȫ@ǗǗʑǣǗȪǠǙ˹ >ɖ@ǣǝʎǠƽǏǛLjǗǙǟ ǏǟǛǙǜƽNjǔNj̆ǗǙǜ ǟɏ[ʓǜ >ƽ@ǏǛ˜ǗǙǜƽNjǕNjǔ̆>ǗǙǜ >Ƹ@˪ǕǙǜȪǔʗǞӭǙǟ ȪſǒǑˍǜƸʑǕǙǟ ƸſǏǠǏǛˍǜȪǚǙǕǕ> ȪǚǦǕǕǣǗƵǏǛ>ˍ >ɖ@ǝʊǔƻNjʕǕǙǟ [ƻ@NjLjǝǓǙǜƸNjǛNjǙ>˹ [.@Ǚǟǝ˜ǜ ǁNjǛʑǞǣ>ǗǙǜ >ɖ@ǝʑǣǗ ǏɏǏǛǏǧǜӭ ȪӭǔǣǙ˹ǜ ƽNjǖnj[ >Ƹ@ǓǕʋǖǖǣǗ ƽNjǖnj> (ȢǛǞʋnjNjǓ ǛǚǑࠍ

Recto

5

10

15

20

Christ was born of Mary (?) Arrears of grain in the second indiction as follows, Amatas son of Amonios Silvanus son of Aph[ Pamotheos son of Eeous Paleus son of Aeionis Joseph son of Aeionis Annion son of Aphous Joseph son of Serenos .euros son of Sakaon the son Serenus son of Salakon Nilos son of Akotos Atheas son of Nilos Nepheras son of Apoll[os Apollon son of Keras Isak son of Paulos Paesios son of Narao[s .ouses son of Chariton Ision the priest

R. H. El-Mofatch

Akoous son of Samb[ Nilammon son of Samb[ 188 ½ Artabai

Verso

5

10

15

20

(ȢǛǞʋnjNjǓ) Ǎ (ȢǛǞʋnjNjǓ ǵ ȢǛǞʋnjNjǓ ǵ ȢǛǞʋnjNjǓ ǓǑNjӭ ǖӭ Ǎ ȢǛǞʋnjNjǓ ǵ ȢǛǞʋnjNjǓ Ǎ ȢǛǞʋnjNjǓ ǒ ȢǛǞʋnjNjǓ Ǎ ȢǛǞʋnjNjǓ Ǔ֤ (ȢǛǞʋnjNjǓ ǎࠍ ȢǛǞʋnjNjǓ ǵ ȢǛǞʋnjNjǓ nj ֤ ȢǛǞʋnjNjǓ ǔǎ ȢǛǞʋnjNjǓ ǍNjӭ ǖӭ nj ȢǛǞʋnjNjǓ ǍNjӭ ǖӭ nj ȢǛǞʋnjNjǓ ǍNjӭ ǖӭ ǎ ȢǛǞʋnjNjǓ Ǎ ȢǛǞʋnjNjǓ Ǖ ȢǛǞʋnjNjǓ Ǎ ȢǛǞʋnjNjǓ Ǎ֨

Verso

5-

10-

15-

3 6 6 18 ? ? ? 6 3 9 3 10 1/4 4½ 6 2¼ 24 3 ? ? ? 3? ? ? 3 ? ? ?

Artabai Artabai Artabai Artabai Artabai Artabai Artabai Artabai Artabai Artabai Artabai Artabai Artabai Artabai Artabai Artabai

201

202

Account of Arrears of Payments in Kind from the Byzantine Period

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3 30 3 3 3/4

Artabai Artabai Artabai Artabai

Apparatus Recto: l.3. ǙɯǞǣǜ l. 8. ȪǏǓǨǗǏǣǜ l. 20. ɏǏǛǏǧǜ Symbols:

Recto: l.23.؄:ȢǛǞʋnjǑ. 1 ࠍ : ½.

Verso:

: artaba; l.9, 12.֤ : ¼.; l. 10. ࠍ : ½.; l. 20. ֨:3/4

It seems that the recto has no relationship with the verso, but both sides are accounts. For a similar situation, cf. P. Oxy. VIII 1147 (6th cent. CE) and P. Oxy. XII 1519 (247–257 CE). The present document could be a part of a register of accounts, like P.Cair.Isid.17 (314 CE), where the left column has names and the right column has kinds of amounts. In our case, on the recto side, we have a list of Greek, Roman, Egyptian, and Jewish names, but we miss the right column of amounts, of which we read the total in the last line. On the verso, we miss the column of names. ȶǡǒǏǝǓǜ (debts) is a standard term for an account of taxes. It appears as a heading for short accounts of amounts, especially for wheat, barley, wine, clothes, and chaff. Cf. P. Lond. V 1672, 10, 40; R. S. Bagnall, The Kellis Agricultural Account Book (P. Kell. IV Gr. 96), Oxford 1997, p. 32. The regular type of such a document contains lists of wheat and barley as in the present document (which were paid in kind), but there can be also arrears for dates, cotton, the pig tax, dike tax, and poll tax, which were paid in cash (drachmai and obols). For arrears of pig and dike taxes, see P. Mich. X 594, 6–7 (Philadelphia, 51 CE); for arrears of the oil tax, see O. Kellis 98, 1–5 (301–302 CE); for arrears of the wine tax, see P. Princ. II 88 (Oxyrhynchus, 5th cent. CE); for arrears of the chaff and the levy tax, see P.Cair.Isidor.17,1-4 (314 CE); for arrears of the clothes tax that was collected in the Byzantine period for military purposes or religious services, cf. H. E. Winlock, “The Egyptian Expedition: The Monastery of Epiphanios at Thebes,” Bulletin of the Metropolitan Museum Art 10.7

1

Cf. N. Gonis, “Abbreviations and Symbols,” in R. S. Bagnall (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Papyrology, Oxford 2009, p. 176.

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(1915), p. 146; P. Oxy. XII 1448, 1–6 (318 CE). The debt is introduced by the verb ੑijİȓȜİIJĮȚ, as in P. Mich. X 594, l. 1. Generally, as it becomes clear from an official letter concerning the collection of tax arrears, the sums must be paid within eight days, otherwise the person will be arrested. Cf. P. Princ. III 137 (Hermopolite, 5th–6th cent. CE). The arrears of tax payments were paid after the indiction. However, the taxes in the late Byzantine and Arab periods were usually paid to the local authorities during the same indiction. Cf. SPP III2 77 (payment for the grain-tax of the 11th and 12th indictions is made on Hathyr 5, in the 12th indiction); O. Tait. II 463 (1st cent. CE); P. Lond. V 1738 (7th–8th cent. CE; two years in arrears), P. Lond. V 1739 (7th cent. CE; three years in arrears), P. Lond. V 1743, 1744, 1745 (7th–8th cent. CE; two years in arrears), P. Lond. V 1752 (7th–8th cent. CE; two years in arrears); SB I 4893 (6th–7th cent. CE; payment, as the text now stands, four years in advance). Cf. L. Casson, “Tax-Collection Problems in Early Arab Egypt,” TAPA 69 (1938), pp. 274–91, esp. pp. 279–80 with n. 20. After giving the total of the evaluated product, using wheat as an example, the clerk declared what had been held in storage (ȲǗ ȢǚǙǒLJǞ̄) and what was collected as arrears (ȲǗ ȲǡǒLJǝǓ). Cf. A. E. R. Boak, “Some Early Byzantine Tax Records from Egypt,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 51 (1940), pp. 35–60, esp. p. 58.

Commentary Recto l.1. ǁǖǍ: This symbol was commonly used in the 5th and 6th centuries CE. Its first appearance in Greek documents in Egypt was as ǁƷ, dated to the 4th to 5th centuries CE (SB XVI 12626). Its full meaning is still discussed. See most recently T. Derda, “Some Remarks on the Christian Symbol ȋȂī,” JJP 22 (1992), pp. 21–27, esp. p. 22. Cf. A. Di Bitonto Kasser, “Una nuova attestazione di ȤࣁȚıIJȠȣ ȝĮࣁȚĮ ȖİȞȞĮ,” Aegyptus 78 (1998), pp. 123–29. For the isopesphic explanation for ȋȂī ȋ  Ȃ ī  , cf. B. Nongbri, “The Lord’V3UD\HUDQGȋȂī7ZR&KULVWLDQ Papyrus Amulets,” HTR 104 (2011), pp. 59–68, esp. pp. 67–68 with n. 20– 21. l.2. ȶǡǒ(ǏǝǓǜ): The word appears mostly in abbreviated form (see P. Oxy. XVI 1918, 4 [542 CE]), and can be followed by ǙɯǞǣǜ in lists, as in P. Gen. IV 204, 1–3, Arsinoite (6th cent. CE). Sometimes it is combined with ǕǙǓǚdžǎǙǜ (remaining tax), as in BGU II 539, 1 (Arsinoite, 342 CE).

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ɎǗ(ǎǓǔǞljǣǗǙǜ): For the indiction followed by its number as in the present document, cf. SB XXII 15575 (435–436 CE). - ɎǗ(ǎǓǔǞljǣǗǙǜ) nj: According to handwriting, the present document is dated to the 5th cent. CE. The second indiction could occur in the following years: - Year 27 of Honorius and year 18 of Theodosius II  419–420 CE). - Year 22 of Arcadius, year 12 of Honorius, and year 3 of Theodosius II  05 CE) - Year 33 of Theodosius II and year 10 of Valentinianus III  434– 435 CE). Cf. http://www.trismegistos.org/calendar/cal_period_listindictionsT.php. l.4. ȪǖNjǞˍǜ: A Greek name attested from the 3rd–7th cent. CE, but most attestations come from the 5th cent. CE. Cf. Trismegistos, NAME- 21096. ȪǖNjǞˍǜ is attested as a person who worked as a collector of wheat without mentioning a father’s name in P. Col.VII 163, 4 (Karanis, 348 CE), but this attestation seems to be too early for any correlation. l.5. ƽǓǕnjNjǗǦǜ: This Latin name is attested in the Roman and Byzantine periods, from the 1st–7th cent. CE; most of these attestations come from Arsinoites and Hermopolites. - ȪǠǙ[ : This name can be restored as ȪǠǙ˹ as in l. 8. ȪǠǙ˹ is a variant name of ȪǚǠǙ˹, the genitive of ȪǚǠǙǜ (a variant name of ਡijȠǜ, not ȪǠǙ˹ǞǙǜ). This name is attested in Arsinoites, from the 4th–8th cent. CE. For ȪǠǙǜ, cf. Stud. Pal. III 273, frg. 4, 7 (6th cent. CE); Stud. Pal. VIII 711, 3 (Hermoupolis Magna, 5th cent. CE). Additionally, ȪǠǙ˹ could be the genitive case of the name ਡijȠȞ, which is attested in P. Cair. Isid. 14, 147 (Karanis, 4th cent. CE); P. Mich. XII 644, r. col. II, 20 (Arsinoites, 4th cent. CE); P. Mich. XII 645, col. I, 8 (Arsinoites, 4th cent. CE); P. Mich. XII 645, col. II, 22 (Arsinoites, 4th cent. CE); P. Mich. X 600, 4 (Arsinoites, 4th cent. CE). Cf. http://www.trismegistos.org. It could also be restored as ȪǠǙǟˍ, the genitive of ȪǠǙǟˍǜ, which is attested from the 4th–7th cent. CE. However, the majority of these attestations are in the 5th cent. CE. It could further be restored as ȪǠǙ˹ǞǙǜ, the genitive of ȪǠǙ˹ǜ, which is attested from the 3rd– 7th cent. CE. l.6. ȸǑǙ˹: From ȸǑǙ˹ǜ which is attested only one time in a list of arrears of naubion, in P.Abinn.74 (Arsinoites, 326–375 CE). l.7. ƻNjǕǏǧǜ: An Egyptian name that is attested from the 2nd cent. BCE to the 8th cent. CE, with some gaps in this period. Most attestations are from Oxyrhynchus, but it is also attested in Arsoinites during the 2nd cent. CE. -

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l.8. ɖǝǣʏǠ: This undeclined Old Testament name is attested in the 5th cent. CE in Arsinoites. Cf. P. Eirene II 1 (301–500 CE); SB I 4807 (301– 700 CE); Stud. Pal. III 327 (401–600 CE). - ȆĮȜİȪȢ: Cf. l.7. This is probably the brother RI੉ıȦȒij from the same father. l.9. ȪǗǗljǣǗ: The first attestation of this name appeared on a wall in Qasr el-Banat (Wadi Hammat) in the 2nd cent. CE (SB ,  >D@  , Koptos à Kosseir 4 a); it appeared again in the 5th cent. CE in a list of names. Cf. SB XXII 15490, 7. l.11. ...ǏǟǛǙǜ: If we are missing only an initial letter, the name can be restored as ƷǏ˹ǛǙǜ, ƽǏ˹ǛǙǜ, ƶǏ˹ǛǙǜ, or ɖǝǏǟǛǙǜ. l.12. ƽNjǕdžǔǣǗ: This is a rare name; however, it is attested in O. Mich. I 389, 5 (Karanis, 3rd cent. CE); BGU IV 1087, V, col. I, 11 (Arsinoites, 3rd cent. CE); SB XXII 15842, 4 (Karanis, 4th cent. CE). l.13. Ƹ˪ǕǙǜ: This name is a variant form of ƸǏ˪ǕǙǜ, ƸljǕǣǜ, Ƹ˜ǕǙǜ. Cf. O. Masson, Onomastica Graeca Selecta, Vol. I, Paris 1990, 151. It has two forms in Coptic, which are D@B? andD@B:. This name is common in Arsinoites and is attested there from 100 BCE to the 8th cent. CE. l.14. ȪǒǑˍǜ: This name is attested only one time in the dative form (ȪǒǑˍǞǓ) in P. Laur. II 42, r. 2 (Oxyrhynchite, 4th–5th cent. CE). l.15. ƸǏǠǏǛˉǜ: An Egyptian name that is attested 44 times from the 2nd–9th cent. CE. The majority of these attestations are in Arsinoites. - ȪǚǙǕǕ[: This name could be restored as ȪǚǙǕǕǙ˹ (the genitive of ȪǚǙǕǕǙǜ, which is attested from the 2nd–9th cent. CE in Arsinoites), ȪǚǙǕǕ̆ (the genitive of ȪǚǙǕǕʖǜ, which is attested in Arsinoites from the 2nd–9th cent. CE), or ȪǚǙǕǕǣǗljǙǟ (the genitive of ȪǚǙǕǕǨǗǓǙǜ, which is attested from the 3rd cent. BCE to 5th cent. CE). l.16. ƵǏǛˍǜ: This name is attested 143 times from the 2nd–7th cent. CE in Arsinoites, Antaiopolites, and Hermopolites. l.17. ɖǝʊǔ ƻNjǧǕǙǟ: The combination of the first name and the father’s name occurs three times from the 4th–8th centuries CE, with the likely date being in the 6th cent. CE. Cf. P.Eleph.Wagner. II 237, 1 (301–500 CE); SB. XII 10935,12 (501–600 CE); P.Stras. IX 819, 24 (Arsinoites, 501–700 CE). l.18. ȆĮȒıȚȠȢ: A variant form of the Egyptian male name ȆĮȘıȚȢ, which means “the one of Isis.” Cf. Demotisches Namenbuch, eds. E. Lüddeckens and H. J. Thissen, Wiesbaden 1980, p. 354; H. Kockelmann, “Praising the Goddess: A Comparative and Annotated Redition of Six Demotic Hymns and Praises Addresses to Isis,” APF 15 (2008), p. 77, n. 48.

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- ƸNjǛNjǙ˹ǜ: A Greek variant of the Egyptian ɖǗNjǛǣǟǜ (the eye of Horos is against them). Cf. Demotisches Namenbuch, 72. Inaros is a very common name throughout the Late Kingdom and Greco-Roman periods. For the historical aspect of the name Inaros, see K. Ryholt, A Sesostris Story in Demotic Egyptian and Demotic Literary Exercises (O. Leipzig UB 2217), in H. Knuf, Chr. Leitz, and D. von Recklinghausen (eds.), Honi soit qui mal y pense. Studien zum pharaonischen, griechisch-römischen und spätantiken Ägypten zu Ehren von Heinz-Josef Thissen, Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta, 194, Leuven 2010, pp. 429–37, esp. pp. 436–37. l.19. [. @Ǚӭǟǝ˜ǜ: This can be restored as [Ʒ@Ǚǟǝ˜ǜ or [Ƶ@oǧǝǑǜ; see Konträr Index Rückläufiges Verzeichnis der in den. Abschnitten 02, 03 und 05 der Wörter Listen in der Fassung vom 26. Januar 2014 enthaltenen Namen und Wörter, p. 21. The best restoration is [Ʒ@Ǚӭǟǝ˜ǜ, not [Ƶ@ǙӭǧǝǑǜ, because the latter is attested only once in a control register in SB XX 15099 (Aphrodito, 716–717 CE), whereas [Ʒ@Ǚӭǟǝ˜ǜ is attested 82 times from the end of the 3rd cent. CE to the 9th cent. CE in P. Mon. Apollo I 27  P. Lond. Copt. I 1078 descr. (a list of pactum payments due). For discussion on the Jewish name Moses, see T. Derda, “Did the Jews use the Name of Moses in Antiquity?,” ZPE 115 (1997), pp. 257–60; M. H. Williams, “The Case for Jewish Use of Moses as a Personal Name in Graeco-Roman Antiquity,” ZPE 140 (2002), pp. 279–83. l.20. ɖǝljǣǗ: A Greek name that derived from a name of the Egyptian goddess Isis. Cf. Demotisches Namenbuch, 93. l.21. ȪǔǨǙǟǜ: This name is attested from the 4th–8th cent. CE in Arsinoites, Hermopolites, and Memphites. - ƽNjǖnj[ : can be restored as ƽNjǖnjˉ, the genitive of the proper name ƽNjǖnjˉǜ, because the lacuna needs only one or two letters. ƽNjǖnjˉǜ is the perfect name for the document’s period; it is attested until the 9th cent. CE, from the Ptolemaic period to the Byzantine, in Antaiopolites, Arsinoites, Herakleopolites, Hermopolites, Lykopolites, and Oxyrhynchites. It is attested 196 times in Arsinoites. ƽNjǖnjˍǜ appears frequently in the tax rolls of Karanis, as a father of the taxpayer ƽǏʕǞǑǜ (for ƽǏʕǒǑǜ), who is mentioned in another Michigan papyrus from Karanis (SB XXII 15839, 2 P. Mich. inv. 5533a). l.22. ƸǓǕʋǖǖǣǗ: This name is attested from the 2nd–7th cent. CE in Arsinoites, Hermopolites, and Herakleopolites. ƸǓǕʋǖǖǣǗ could be the brother of ȪǔǨǙǟǜ (l.21) from the same father (ƽNjǖnjˉǜ). l.23. The artaba as a measure of dry products (like wheat and barley) equaled about 40 Greek choinikes, (ȤȠȓȞȚțİȢ in the 2nd–7th cent. CE”, which means that the artaba is measured by the fraction 1/48; cf. R. P. Duncan Jones, “The Choenix, the artaba and the Modius,” ZPE 21 (1976),

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pp. 43–52, esp. pp. 44–45. However, there is an alternative measurement: 1 DUWDED PHWUD PDWLD FKRLQLNHVFI5%DJQDOO³3UDFWLFDO+HOS Chronology, Geography, Measures, Currency, Names, Prosopography, and Technical Vocabulary,” in The Oxford Handbook of Papyrology, Oxford 2012, pp. 186–87. During this same period (2nd–7th cent. CE), the standard artaba weighed more than 30 kilograms; cf. T. Hickey, Wine, Wealth, and the state in late Antique Egypt: The House of Apion at Oxyrhynchus, Ann Arbor 2012, p. xiv.

Verso The shape of the artaba symbol in the entire verso is unique. The majority of the artaba’s symbol are: ࠞ, ࠢ, and ؄, with the last one appearing on the recto side. In the verso, however, the artaba is shown as this one from l.3 , which is very similar to the ones in P. Oxy. XVI 2020, col. ii l. 22 (6th cent. CE):

(ȢǛǞdžnjNjǓ ǞǗǒ ࠍ

l.2. The sign for the number 6 is another shape of the digamma (Ƿ). Cf. T. L. Heath, A Manual of Greek Mathematics, New York 2003, p. 16. Lines 4, 14, 15, 16: These lines and their readings are still problematic. To figure out which numbers were written, one of the following three solutions must be applied: (1) Line 4: (ȢǛǞdžnjNjǓ) ǓǑ NjӭǖǍ Line 14: (ȢǛǞdžnjNjǓ) Ǎ Njӭǖnj Line 15: (ȢǛǞdžnjNjǓ) Ǎ Njӭǖnj Line 16: (ȢǛǞdžnjNjǓ) Ǎ Njӭǖǎ Because the list has no title, we do not know for what purpose these amounts were written. The amounts in lines 14, 15, and 16 can be read as follows: ǍNjǖnj  1/42; ǍNjǖǎ  1/44. There is still the problem in figuring out the amount in line 4: ǓǑ NjǖǍ. The Nj after ǓǑ (   KDV QR meaning, if we accept ǖǍ as a fraction that equals 1/43. On the other hand, 1 /43 is not acceptable as a fraction of the artaba. (2) Read the letter ǖ as an abbreviation for ǖLJǞǛNj (metra; a subdivision of the artaba). The ǖ has no dash on it; cf. P. Cair. Isid. 57, col. II, 17, 19 (Karanis, 315 CE); O. Mich. I 386, 2 (Karanis, 278 CE); P. Bingen 111 (Theadelphia, 250–252 CE); P. NYU. I 15 (Karanis, 315 CE). Supposing that we are missing the abbreviated choinikes in this case the transcription would be as follows:

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Account of Arrears of Payments in Kind from the Byzantine Period

Line 4: (ȢǛǞdžnjNjǓ) ǓǑ Nj ǖ(LJǞǛNj) Ǎ Line 14: (ȢǛǞdžnjNjǓ) Ǎ Nj ǖ(LJǞǛNj) nj Line 15: (ȢǛǞdžnjNjǓ) Ǎ Nj ǖ(LJǞǛNj) nj Line 16: (ȢǛǞdžnjNjǓ) Ǎ Nj ǖ(LJǞǛNj) ǎ And its reading would be: Line 4: 18 artabas, 1 metra, 3 (choinikes). Lines 14, 15: 3 artabas, 1 metra, 2 (choinikes). Line 16: 3 artabas, 1 metra, 4 (choinikes). (3) I owe this last suggestion, which refers only to the abbreviation after the number of artaba, to Jean-Luc Fournet, who suggests that it could be resolved as ਙ(ȜȜĮ . Cf. P. Oxy. LXIII 4372, 40–44 (341–399 CE); SB XVI 12647, 1–8 (211 CE). In this case the transcription of the lines in the present document could be: Line 4: (ȢǛǞdžnjNjǓ) ǓǑ Ȧ(ǕǕNj) ǖ(LJǞǛNj) Ǎ Line 14: (ȢǛǞdžnjNjǓ) Ǎ Ȧ(ǕǕNj) ǖ(LJǞǛNj) nj Line 15: (ȢǛǞdžnjNjǓ) Ǎ Ȧ(ǕǕNj) ǖ(LJǞǛNj) nj Line 16: (ȢǛǞdžnjNjǓ) Ǎ Ȧ(ǕǕNj) ǖ(LJǞǛNj) ǎ And its reading would be: Line 4: 18 artabas, another 3 metra. Line 14 & 15: 3 artabas, another 2 metra. Line 16: 3 artabas, another 4 metra. Which solution is the best could only be decided, if we knew whether there is space for the indication of the choinikes, as I suggest in solution number 2, or not. l.20. The ֨ is a fraction sign for 3/4, which resembles an inverted “beta.” It looks as if combining the sign ࠍ ò with the sign ֤ ¼. Cf. A. Friedrich von Pauly, W. Kroll, und K. Witte, Paulys Real-encyclopädie Der Classischen Altertumswissenschaft. 2. Reihe R-Z, August Friedrich von Pauly, Vol. 2, Verlag 1923, p. xix.

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Recto

209

210

Account of Arrears of Payments in Kind from the Byzantine Period

Verso

NEW TEXTS FROM THE OXYRHYNCHUS RACING ARCHIVE S. D. A. AISH AND E. A. A. ABD-ELHADY AIN SHAMS UNIVERSITY, EGYPT

O. Cairo Museum

Oxyrhynchus

S. R. 18953

4th cent. CE

The Oxyrhynchus Racing Archive was first discovered by J. C Shelton. 1 He published a collection of ostraca that consisted of 108 pieces housed in the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford. Soon afterwards, he added three pieces housed in the papyrus collection of Columbia University, 2 reprinted in SB XX as numbers 15078, 15079 and 15080. The archive contains orders from the administrator Cyriacus or Cyracus 3 to Theon 4 for the delivery of wine, instructing him to hand over varied small quantities of wine to a third party or parties involved in the chariot racing at Oxyrhynchus. The shreds of this archive show that races were held from 27 Choiak (=23/24 Dec. [O. Ashm. Shelt. 83]) to Pharmouthi 6 (=1 Apr.; [SB XX 15080]), with intervals between the two dates. In 2002, three pieces of this archive were published by N. Gonis. 5 Two further pieces of this archive, housed in the Egyptian Museum of Cairo,

We are grateful to Prof. C. Römer for discussing these texts with us, and for offering helpful comments and generous support. 1 J. C. Shelton, Greek Ostraca in the Ashmolean Museum from Oxyrhynchus and Other Sites, Firenze 1988, pp. 73–138, Nos. 83–190. 2 J. C. Shelton, “New Texts from the Oxyrhynchus Racing Archive,” ZPE 81 (1990), pp. 265–66. 3 See commentary 1. 4 Theon can hand over money as well as wine; cf. O. Ashm. Shelt. 158, n. 6. 5 N. Gonis, “Further Texts from the Oxyrhynchus Racing Archive,” ZPE 141 (2002), pp. 162–64. No. I = SB XXVIII 17197 is an order to pay 150 talants to Pathermuthios on 30 Choiak (=26/27 Dec.). “It attests a person not found in this archive, Eulogios who gave the order, but there is hardly any doubt that this text

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New Texts from the Oxyrhynchus Racing Archive

have been studied by Eman A. A. Abd-Elhady, the co-author of this work, in her unpublished MA thesis (numbers IV and V). 6 In 2013, two other pieces (numbers I and III) 7 also housed in Cairo were published by Mervat G. A. Zaki. This paper includes one other new ostracon of this archive from Cairo (number II). All texts mentioned above resemble each other in both subject and formula, which runs as follows: A (the issuer) to B (addressee) 8 sends greetings; the verb įȩȢ, followed by the beneficiary or beneficiaries; and the quantities of wine measured by țȞȓįȚĮ or ǔǏǛNjҡǖǓNj followed by the summary in figures, 9 the date 10 and the subscription of the issuer. 11 This paper aims both to collect and reprint the texts of these ostraca, 12 which appeared in Egypt after Shelton’s edition, and to publish new texts with a general commentary. The texts are arranged by chronological order. There are some general aspects of these new ostraca which do not differ from those already known. The shreds show a varied scale of brown colour. They are written with black ink on the convex side of the pottery. All the new ostraca show distinguished large lower margins. The texts are complete. Texts I and II share similar handwriting, while texts IV and V are written by the same hand. The concaves are blank.

too belongs to the racing archive;” Eulogios also gave an order to Demetrianus to deliver meat to Dioscoros, the charioteer on Phamenoth 28 (=22/23 Mar.)” (Gonis, “Further Texts,” p. 162 f. 6 E. A. A. Abd-Elhady, An Edition of Unpublished Greek Papyri and Ostraca with Commentary, MA thesis, Faculty of Arts, Dep. of Ancient European Civilization, Ain Shams University, Cairo 2011. Texts were numbered with 7 and 8. 7 M. G. A. Zaki, “Two Orders of Wine Delivery,” Bulletin of the Ain Shams, Center for Papyrological Studies and Inscriptions 30 (2013), pp. 29–33. 8 Cf. O. Ashm. Shelt. 110; the sentence’s order was: “to B, A.” 9 Some summaries of quantities in figures are preceded by the verb ȖȚŰȞİIJĮȚ/ ȖȚŰȞȠȞIJĮȚ (“total, equal”; see O. Ashm. Shelt. 83, 84, 88, and 91); others are followed by ǖǦǗǙǗ/ ǖǦǗNj (“exactly, only”). ǖǦǗǙǗ only occurs fifteen times in Pharmouthi throughout the texts (e.g., O. Ashm. Shelt. 162; SB XX 15080, and V). 10 Cf. O. Ashm. Shelt. 168, 177 and IV, where the date comes after the subscription of the issuer. 11See commentary 4. 12 All the new texts are housed in the Egyptian Museum under the inventory number 18953. According to the Egyptian Museum’s registers, these ostraca came into the collection from an unknown provenance in 1953.

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213

I 9.4 x 5.5 cm

27/28 Dec. IV CE

The ostracon has an irregular pentagon shape, and it contains eight lines. There is a dihaeresis on the first iota of the name šDŽǝǡǟǛljǣǗ (l. 3). 1- (1st hand) ƵǟǛǓNjǔǙҠǜ ƳLJǣǗǓ ǡ(NjljǛǏǓǗ)ќ ǎǙҠǜ šDŽǝǡǟǛljǣǗǓ ǔNjǓҠ ǞǙ˪ǜ ǝǟҠǗ NjɪǞ̇ 5- ǙɒǗǙǟ ǔǗljǎ(ǓNj) ǞǛljNj ǍŴќ ƾ˹njǓ Njќ ƵǟǛǓNjǔʒǜ (2nd hand) ǝǞǙǓ(ǡǏǓҢ)ќ 2- ǡ‫ؚ‬ 5- ǔǗljǎׂ 8- ǝǞǙǓ

Translation Cyriacus to Theon, greetings. Give Ischyrion and those who are with him three knidia of wine, 3. Tybi 1. Cyriacus, I agree.

II 8.8 x 7.5 cm

30/31 Dec. IV CE

The ostracon has an irregular shape. The text is written with a thick pen in a large cursive hand. The scribe does not have a good control of ink; some letters are very thick (particularly in line 1), while the ink is faded in other lines. There is a dihaeresis on the first iota of the ǓҴȞȚŰȠȤǙǜ (sic; l. 3f). The text consists of six lines. 1- (1st hand) ƵǟǛǓNjǔǙҠǜ ƳLJǣǗǓќ ǡ(NjljǛǏǓǗ)ќ ǎǙҠǜ ’ƬǠǛǙǎǓǝlj̄ ǓҴǗǓǦǡ̄ ǙɒǗǙǟ ǔǗljǎ(ǓǙǗ) 5- ȵǗ, ǔǗǓŰſǎ(ſ ǓǙǗ) Njſќ ƾ˹njǓ ǎӌќ ƵǟǛǓNjǔʒǜ(2nd hand) ǝǞǙǓǡǏǓҢ)ќ 2- ǡ‫ؚ‬ 3, 4- ȿǗǓǦǡ̄

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New Texts from the Oxyrhynchus Racing Archive

5- ǔǗljǎӌ 6- ǝǞǙǓ

Translation Cyriacus to Theon, greetings. Give Aphrodisius, the charioteer, one knidion of wine. (Total)1 knidion. Tybi 4. Cyriacus, I agree.

III 10.5 x 10.7 cm.

18/19 Jan. IV CE

The ostracon has an irregular shape with rounded borders; some letters are thick, others thin. The text consists of four lines. 1- (1st hand) ƵǟǛNjǔǙҠǜ ƳLJǣǗǓ ǡ(NjljǛǏǓǗ)ќ ǎǙҠǜ ƯǑǖǑǞǛlj૳ NjƎǕljǚǞ˚ ǙɒǗǙǟ ǔǗljǎǓǙǗ ȵǗ, ǔǗljǎ(ǓǙǗ) Njќ ƾǟҢnjǓ ǔǍќ ƵǟǛNjǔǙҠǜ (2nd hand) ǝǞǙǓ(ǡǏǓҢ)ќ 1- ǡ‫ؚ‬ 2- NjƎǕǏljǚǞ˚ 3- ǔǗljǎׂ 4- ǝǞǙǓ

Translation Cyracus to Theon, greetings. Give Demetrius, the trainer, one knidion of wine, 1 knidion. Tybi 23. Cyracus, I agree.

IV 13.5 x 7.8 cm

27 Mar. IV CE

The ostracon has a rectangular shape with rounded borders. The text is written with a thick pen in a medium-sized cursive hand on the ribbed surface. The scribe does not have good control of ink; some letters are thick, others thin. The ink is faded, which made the reading in some parts difficult. The text consists of six lines. 1- (1st hand) ƵǟǛNjǔǙҠǜ ƳLJǣǗǓ ǡ(NjljǛǏǓǗ)ќ ǎǙҠǜ ƵǙǛǗǑǕǓҡ̄ ǔNjʐ ǏҤ-

S. D. A. Aish and E. A. A. Abd-Elhady

ǞLJǛǙǓǜ ǙſǓǗŽŰſ Ǚǟſ ǔܷǏܷǛdžܷǖǓܷNjܷ RŽǔǞǣſŰ, 5- ǔܷǏܷǛܷNjŰſ(ǖǓNj) Ǒſ ǖſǙҡǗſ Njќ ƵǟǛNjǔǙҠǜ (2nd hand) ǝǞǙǓ(ǡǏǓҢ)ќ ǀNjǛǖǙǟҢǒǓ 2- ǡͰÖ 5- ǔǏǛNj, ǝǞǙǓ

215

ˉќ

Translation Cyracus to Theon, greetings. Give Cornelius and the others eight keramia of wine. 8 keramia only. Cyracus, I agree. Pharmouthi 1.

V 13.5 x 7.8 cm

31 Mar. IV CE

The ostracon has a nearly triangular shape. The text is written with a thick pen in a medium-sized cursive hand on the ribbed surface. The scribe does not have good control of the ink; some letters are thick (particularly ll. 3, 4). The ink is faded in some parts of the text. The text consists of five lines. 1- (1st hand) ƵǟǛNjǔǙҠǜ ƳLJǣǗǓќ ǡ(NjljǛǏǓǗ)ќ ǎǙҠǜſ ƵǟǛNjǔ̄Ң njǙǑǒ(̄Ң) ǔNjʐ ƸǑҢſǠǓ ǙңǗǑǕdžǞ˚ ǙɒǗǙſǟſ ǔǏǛdžǖǓNj ǞǛljNj, ǔǏǛſ(džǖǓNj) Ǎų ǖſǦǗNjќ ǀNjǛǖǙǟҢǒǓ Ǐųќ 5- ƵǟǛNjǔǙҠǜ (2nd hand) ǝǞǙǓ(ǡǏǓҢ) 1- ‫׆‬ 2- njǙǑǒΑ 3- ǔǏǛ 4- ǝǞǙǓ

Translation Cyracus to Theon, greetings. Give Cyracus, the assistant, and Nephis, the donkey driver, three keramia of wine. 3 keramia only. Pharmouthi 5. Cyracus, I agree.

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New Texts from the Oxyrhynchus Racing Archive

Observations on the new texts with reference to the old texts 1- Issuer and addressee: ȀȣȡȚĮțંȢ or ȀȣȡĮțંȢ and ĬȑȦȞ both appear throughout the old and the new texts. 13 ȀȣȡȚĮțȩȢAs J. C. Shelton mentioned, the form 14 of the name depends upon the date—up to and including the 7th of Tybi (=2/3 Jan.) it is written ƵǟǛǓNjǔǦǜ (O. Ashm. Shelt. 83; and new texts I, II); from Tybi 8–24 (=3/4 Jan.–19/20 Jan.) we had no texts; from Tybi 25 (=20/21 Jan.) only ƵǟǛNjǔǦǜ is used (O. Ashm. Shelt. 135). See (O. Ashm. Shelt. p. 37, n. 1): “The form ƵǟǛǓNjǔǦǜ occurs also in the text that bears no.1 in Grenfell’s notebook, dated Tybi 12 (=7/8 Jan.).” See also Gonis, “Further Texts,” p. 164. The form ƵǟǛNjǔǦǜ occurs also in the new text III, ZKLFKLVGDWHGWR7\EL »-DQ . Vowel loss due to an accented or unaccented iota is frequently observed before a back vowel, especially after a liquid or nasal; see F. T. Gignac, A Grammar of the Greek Papyri of the Roman and Byzantine Period, Vol. I. Phonology, Milano 1975, p. 302 ff. ƳLJǣǗ: The subordinate of Cyriacus at the chariot races is described as ʌȡȠȞȠȘIJȒȢ (“caretaker”) in O. Ashm. Shelt. 144, 154. He distributes the wine to persons involved in the chariot races in both the old and new texts. As it is mentioned, Theon also handed over money to chariot maker Lucius; the purpose of this money is not stated (O. Ashm. Shelt. 158; Shelton, Greek Ostraca in the Ashmolean, pp. 74, 101). 2- The beneficiaries and quantities: 15 This paper will focus on the beneficiaries who are mentioned in the new texts. Presumably, the size of wine rations depended on the significance of the beneficiaries; see Shelton, Greek Ostraca in the Ashmolean, p. 74. - ԣƬǠǛǙǎljǝǓǙǜ ȿǗljǙǡǙǜ: Text II, l. 3f. Aphrodisius the charioteer is the beneficiary who was already mentioned twice in O. Ashm. Shelt. 96, 189. Generally, chariot racing was the most popular sport in Rome. The charioteer is the hero of the racing; he receives sometimes higher ratio of wine than others. 16 After Tybi, Aphrodisius received his total ratio of wine 13 See

n. 6. See commentary IV. 15 See schedule I. 16 O. Ashm. Shelt. 100, where Heracleus the charioteer received three knidia on Tybi 3 (=29/30 Dec.); see schedule I and cf. O. Ashm. Shelt. 87, where Argyrius the groom received one knidion of wine on Tybi 1 (=27/28 Dec.). Cf. also O. 14

S. D. A. Aish and E. A. A. Abd-Elhady

217

for several days all at once (e.g., O. Ashm. Shelt. 151, where Hatres the charioteer received five keramia of wine from Mecheir 26 to 30). 17 - ǻȘȝȒIJȡȚȠȢ ਕȜİȓʌIJȘȢ Text III, l. 2. Demetrius is mentioned eight times throughout all the texts. He received one or two knidia daily: two on Tybi 1 (=27/28 Dec.) and one on Tybi 2 (=28-29 Dec.) (O. Ashm. Shelt. 86, 92).” - šDŽǝǡǟǛljǣǗ ǔNjʐ Ǚɏ ǝʔǗ NjǟңǞ̇: Text I, l. 3f. Ischyrion the trainer 18 is mentioned five times throughout all the texts: four times with others, 19 and once alone (O. Ashm. Shelt. 152) where he received five knidia from Mecheir 26 to 30 (=20–24/21–25 Feb.). Therefore, he received one knidion daily. - ƵǙǛǗLjǕǓǙǜ ǔNjʐ ȷǞǏǛǙǓ: 20 Text IV, l. 3f. Cornelius is new in this archive. He is attested here without his title. He received eight keramia together with others, obscuring how much wine he exactly received himself. He does not appear in connection with the chariot racing in other texts. -

-

ƵǟǛNjǔʒǜ njǙǑǒǦǜ: Text V, l. 1f. Cyracus 21 is one of two assistants known in the archive. He is mentioned three times throughout all the texts and he receives different quantities of wine: In Tybi? (=ca. 27 Dec. to 2 Jan.) he received one knidion daily; From Mecheir 26–30 (=20–24/21–25 Feb.) he and two others received five knidia during five days; On Pharmouthi 5 (=31 March), he and the donkey drivers received three keramia. Paulus the second assistant received two knidia during seven days in Mecheir 24–30 (=18–24/19–25 Feb.).

Ashm. Shelt. 109, where Arsenius, Victor, and those who were with them all together received two knidia of wine on Tybi 5 (=31 Dec./1 Jan.). 17 O. Ashm. Shelt. 90, 154, and 164. 18 Ischyrion is mentioned without title in O. Ashm. Shelt. 105. 19 Sometimes Ǚɏ ǝʔǗ NjǟңǞ̇ is followed by indefinite titles (O. Ashm. Shelt. 91, 94, 103, 105, 109, 128, and 134). In other instances, it is followed by definite titles (O. Ashm. Shelt. 99, 121, 125, 149, 157 and 161). Cf. O. Ashm. Shelt. 156; where we have the EHQHILFLDU\¶VQDPHWKHQIJȠ૙ȢıઃȞĮ੝IJȠ૙ȢIROORZHGE\WKHGHILQLWHWLWOH 20 țĮ੿ ਪIJİȡȠȚThis structure is new, since it is usually ȠੂıઃȞNjǟңǞ̇ (n. 20). 21 Cyriacus occurs in O. Ashm. Shelt. 129 (see commentary 1).

New Texts from the Oxyrhynchus Racing Archive

218

-

ƸǑҢǠǓǜ ɞǗǑǕdžǞǑǜ: Text V, l. 2. He is mentioned three times throughout the texts: twice with others, and once alone (O. Ashm. Shelt. 116) where he received two knidia on Tybi 6 (=1/2 Jan.).

II – Beneficiaries: Beneficiaries

Text

Quantity

Date

ȢǕǏǓҢǚǞNjǓ ƯǑǖLjǞǛǓǙǜ

III

ǔǗljǎǓǙǗȵǗ

ƾǟҢnjǓǔǍ

Handwriting is similar to:

O. Ashm. Shelt. 135

O. Ashm.

ǔǗljǎǓNjǎǧǙ

ƾǟҢnjǓNj

ǔǗljǎǓǙǗȵǗ

ƾǟҢnjǓ nj

ǔǗljǎǓNjǎǧǙ

ƾǟҢnjǓǍ

ǔǗljǎǓǙǗȵǗ

ƾǟҢnjǓǎ

ǔǗljǎǓǙǗȵǗ

ƾǟҢnjǓǔǏ

ǔǗljǎǓNjǎǧǙ

ƾǟҢnjǓ

ǔǗljǎǓǙǗȳǚǞʋ

ƷǏǡǏljǛ ǔǎȵǣǜǕ

ǔǗljǎǓNj ǞǛljNj ǔǗljǎǓNjǎǧǙ

ƾǟҢnjǓNj

ǔǗljǎǓNjǞǛljNj

...

ǔǏǛdžǖǓNj ǞǛljNj

ǀNjǛǖǙǟҢǒǓǏ

ǔǗljǎǓǙǗ ȵǗ

ƾǟҢnjǓ .

Shelt. 86

O. Ashm. Shelt. 92

O. Ashm. Shelt. 102

O. Ashm. Shelt. 107

O. Ashm. Shelt. 135?

O. Ashm. Shelt. 137

O. Ashm. Shelt. 140 šDŽǝǡǟǛljǣǗ ǔNjʐ Ǚɏ ǝʔǗ NjǟңǞ̇

I

O. Ashm.

O. Ashm. Shelt. 96

ƾǟҢnjǓ

Shelt. 125

O. Ashm. Shelt. 134 ƭǙǑǒǙlj: ȀȣȡĮțʒǜ ȕȠȘșǦǜ (and Nephis, the donkey driver) ȀȣȡĮțǦǜ

V

O. Ashm. Shelt. 129

O. Ashm. Shelt. 104

S. D. A. Aish and E. A. A. Abd-Elhady

ȀȣȡĮțʒǜ ȕȠȘșǦǜ, (Nephis, the donkey driver and Aeidos, the groom) ƻNjǟҢǕǙǜ

O. Ashm.

ǔǗljǎǓNj ǚLJǗǞǏ

ƷǏǡǏljǛ ǔǵ ȵǣǜ Ǖ

ǔǗljǎǓNj ǎǧǙ

ƷǏǡǏljǛǔǎ ȵǣǜǕ

ǔǗljǎǓǙǗȵǗ

ƾǟҢnjǓǎ

Shelt. 155

O. Ashm. Shelt. 139

ȿǗljǡǙǓ ԣƬǠǛǙǎljǝǓǙǜ

II

219

O. Ashm. Shelt. 104

O. Ashm.

ǔǗljǎǓǙǗȵǗ

ƾǟҢnjǓǍ

ǔǏǛdžǖǓNj ǞLJǝǝǏǛNj

...

ǔǏǛdžǖǓNj ǞǛljNj

ǀNjǛǖǙǟҢǒǓǏ

ǔǗljǎǓNj ǚLJǗǞǏ

ƷǏǡǏljǛ ǔǵ ȵǣǜǕ

ǔǗljǎǓNj ǎǧǙ

ƾǟҢnjǓǵ

ǔǏǛdžǖǓNj ǙңǔǞǨ

ǀNjǛǖǙǟҢǒǓ Nj

Shelt. 96

O. Ashm. Shelt. 189 ɞǗǑǕdžǞNjǓ Cyracus, the assistant and) ƸǑҢǠǓǜ ɞǗǑǕdžǞǑǜ (Cyracus, the assistant, ƸǑҢǠǓǜ ɞǗǑǕdžǞǑǜ and Aeidos the groom ƸǑҢǠǓǜ ɞǗǑǕdžǞǑǜ

V

O. Ashm. Shelt. 155

O. Ashm.

O. Ashm. Shelt. 104

Shelt. 116

Without title ƵǙǛǗLjǕǓǙǜ ǔNjʐ ȷǞǏǛǙǓ

IV

O. Ashm. Shelt. 169

New Texts from the Oxyrhynchus Racing Archive

220

3 – Date: 22 ƾ˹njǓ Nj (27/28 Dec.): Text I, l. 7. There are eight orders given to Theon on this day, instructing him to deliver variant small quantities of wine to different beneficiaries. The amounts range between 1 to 3 knidia of wine. -

O. Ashm. Shelt. 84: 2 knidia of wine are delivered on Tybi 1 (=27/28 Dec.). O. Ashm. Shelt. 90Q: 2 keramia from Tybi 1 to 2 (=27–28/28–29 Dec.).

ƾ˹njǓ ǎ (30/31 Dec.): Text II, l. 5. Cyriacus gave five orders to Theon on this day, instructing him to deliver variant small quantities of wine to different beneficiaries. The amounts also range between 1 to 3 knidia of wine. - O. Ashm. Shelt. 104: 1 knidion is delivered on Tybi 4. - O. Ashm. Shelt. 105: 3 knidia of wine are delivered on Tybi 4. ƾ˹njǓ ǔǍ (18/19 Jan.): Text III, l. 3f. This is the only order we have on this date so far, with Cyriacus instructing Theon to deliver 1 knidion. ǀNjǛǖǙǟҢǒǓ Į (27 March): Text IV, l. 6. There are 18 orders to deliver wine, beginning on Pharmouthi 1 and continuing up to the 5th or 6th. The new text is the only one for Pharmouthi 1 alone. The amounts range from 1 keramion to 9 keramia. - O. Ashm. Shelt. 165: 1 keramion is delivered on Pharmouthi 1–2. - O. Ashm. Shelt. 172: 9 keramia are delivered from Pharmouthi 1–6. ǀNjǛǖǙǟҢǒǓ Ǐ (31 March): Text V, l. 4. There are 11 orders to deliver wine, beginning on Pharmouthi 1 and continuing up to the 5th or 6th, but this new text is one of three referring to Pharmouthi 5 alone. - O. Ashm. Shelt. 183: 2 keramia are delivered on Pharmouthi 5. - O. Ashm. Shelt. 184: 3 keramia are delivered on Pharmouthi 5.

22

See schedule II.

S. D. A. Aish and E. A. A. Abd-Elhady

221

II- Date of orders: Date ƾ˹njǓ Nj

ƾ˹njǓ ǎ

ƾ˹njǓǔǍ ǀNjǛǖǙǟҢǒǓNj ǀNjǛǖǙǟҢǒǓǏ

Text I

Amount ǔǗljǎ(ǓNj) ǞǛljNj

O. Ashm. Shelt. 84 O. Ashm. Shelt. 85 O. Ashm. Shelt. 86 O. Ashm. Shelt. 87 O. Ashm. Shelt. 88 O. Ashm. Shelt. 89 O. Ashm. Shelt. 90 II O. Ashm. Shelt. 104 O. Ashm. Shelt. 105 O. Ashm. Shelt. 106 O. Ashm. Shelt. 107 III IV V

ǔǗljǎ(ǓNj) ǎǧǙ

O. Ashm. Shelt. 183 O. Ashm. Shelt. 184

ǔǗljǎ(ǓǙǗ) Nj

Beneficiaries ԣDŽǝǡǟǛljǣǗǔNjʐ ǙɏǝʔǗ NjǟңǞ̇ ƯǑǖLjǞǛǓǙǜ ǔNjʐ ƯljǎǟǖǙǜ ɏǚǚǙǔǦǖǙǓ ƻNjǟҢǕǙǜ ȢǠLJǞǑǜ

ǔǗljǎ(ǓNj) ǎǧǙ

ƯǑǖLjǞǛǓǙǜȢǕǏljǚǞǑǜ

ǔǗljǎ(ǓǙǗ) ȵǗ

ԣƬǛǍǧǛǓǙǜɏǚǚǙǔǦǖǙǜ

ǔǗljǎ(ǓNj) ǎǧǙ ǔǗljǎ(ǓǙǗ) Nj

ưɪǝLJnjǓǙǜ ǔNjʐ ƻNjǕ... ɏǚǚǙǔǦǖǙǓ ƽǟҢǛǙǜȢǠLJǞǑǜ

ǔſLJſǛſNjſǖſǓſNjſ ǎǧǙ

ƯǓǦǝǔǙǛǙǜ

ǔǗljǎ(ǓǙǗ) ȵǗ ǔǗljǎ(ǓǙǗ) ȵǗ

ԣƬǠǛǙǎljǝǓǙǜǑŽǗŽ ljǙǡǙǜ ƳǏǦǎǣǛǙǜǔNjʐ ƽǟǗǚǕǓǔǦǜ ԣDŽǝǡǟǛljǣǗ ǔNjʐ Ǚɏ ǝʔǗ NjǟңǞ̇ ưɪǝLJnjǓǙǜ ǔNjʐ ƻNjǕ...

ǔǗljǎǓNjǞǛljNj ǔǗljǎǓNjǎǧǙ ǔǗljǎǓNjǎǧǙ

ǔǏǛdžǖǓNj ǎǧǙ

ƯǑǖLjǞǛǓǙǜ ȢǕǏljǚǞǑǜ ǔNjʐ ƯljǎǟǖǙǜ ɏǚǚǙǔǦǖǙǜ ƯǑǖLjǞǛǓǙǜȢǕǏljǚǞǑǜ ƵǙǛǗLjǕǓǙǜ ǔNjʐ ȷǞǏǛǙǓ ȀȣȡĮțʒǜȕȠȘșǙҠǜ ǔNjʐ ƸǑҢǠǓǜɞǗǑǕdžǞǑǜ ưɪǎNjljǖǣǗɏǚǚǑǕdžǞǑǜ

ǔǏǛdžǖǓNj ǞǛljNj

žƲǠNjǓǝǞljǣǗ ǑŽǗŽ ljǙǡǙǜ

ǔǗljǎǓǙǗ ȵǗ ǔǏǛdžǖǓNjǙңǔǞǨ ǔǏǛdžǖǓNj ǞǛljNj

222

New Texts from the Oxyrhynchus Racing Archive

4- Issuer’s subscription: J. C. Shelton saw the first four letters of the verb ǝǞǙǓ(ǡȑȦ) at the end of the complete text 23 as an unresolved monogram. 24 It is clear that the scribe wrote the abbreviated verb in one move. After examining all images of the texts, single letters, HVSHFLDOO\İ and ț, are written in different ways in the same text. Some texts are particularly similar (especially O. Ashm. Shelt. 83, 84, 92 and 127), though there are a few different letters (particularly įșȠ DQGȢ, especially in O. Ashm. Shelt. 137–139 and 144). Therefore, we can say these texts were written by more than two scribes. On the other hand, it is obvious that the handwriting of the issuer’s subscription belongs to just one hand, which means that the scribes wrote the receipts and Cyriacus or Cyracus just signed them. Cyriacus and Cyracus were then the same person. It is noticeable that the form Cyriacus is constant in the first group (O. Ashm. Shelt. 83–134 [texts I–II]) and Cyracus is constant in the second group (O. Ashm. Shelt. 134–190 [texts III–V]). The scribes may have depended on the pronunciation of his name with the result that the scribe of the first text (O. Ashm. Shelt. 83), who wrote Cyriacus, made his colleagues follow his form up to O. Ashm. Shelt. 134. Another scribe began to finish writing the texts from Text II (O. Ashm. Shelt. 135) and made his colleagues follow his form, Cyracus, up to O. Ashm. Shelt. 190.

23 Cf. the complete texts without the issuer’s subscription: O. Ashm. Shelt. 84, 90, 92, and 133. There are six other texts without the issuer’s subscription in the transcription, although it occurred in the original ostraca (O. Ashm. Shelt. 115, 127, 131, 179, 181, and 182). As mentioned before, the usual order of the text is the date, then the subscription; but sometimes the date comes after the subscription (Text IV, O. Ashm. Shelt. 168 and 177). 24 Cf. Zaki, Two Orders, p. 32.

S. D. A. Aish and E. A. A. Abd-Elhady

Figures -I-

-II-

223

224

New Texts from the Oxyrhynchus Racing Archive -III-

-IV-

S. D. A. Aish and E. A. A. Abd-Elhady -V-

225

FOUR PSEUDO-ATHANASIUS TEXTS: EDITION, TRANSLATION, AND COMMENTARY IBRAHIM SAWEROS SOHAG UNIVERSITY, EGYPT

In 1995, Professor Jacques van der Vliet decided to collect the rest of the still unpublished texts attributed to Athanasius of Alexandria in order to edit them.1 He aimed to publish them in two volumes of the famous series Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium. Due to his much-occupied schedule, however, van der Vliet could not complete his project. In 2010, I luckily came to Leiden to do my PhD dissertation. He kindly granted me access to his files, notes, and advice in order to finish his old project. In this paper, I give an overview of this project and its importance. In my research, I aim to edit and publish a set of four Sahidic texts attributed to St. Athanasius of Alexandria. All of them are still unedited. Three decades ago, Tito Orlandi published an Italian translation of two of them.2 The four principal manuscripts were discovered in 1910 at the site of the monastery of St. Michael near present-day al-ণamƻlƯ in the Fayum; they are now kept at the Pierpont Morgan Library.

Descriptions and Outlines Text A: In Michaelem et Gabrielem archangelos, CPG 2197, CPC 00953



I’m

very grateful to Prof. J. van der Vliet for reading the first draft of this paper and suggesting very useful additions. My thanks are due to Dr. L. Blumell for his useful remarks and for his careful proofreading. 1 St. Athanasius (c. 295–373) is the most influenced theologian in history, one of the heroes of the Egyptian church, and the twentieth archbishop of Alexandria. For the most recent publication on him, see D. M. Gwynn, Athanasius of Alexandria: Bishop, Theologian, Ascetic and Father, Oxford 2012. 2 T. Orlandi, Omelie Copte, Torino 1981, pp. 48–57, 59–70. 3 http://rmcisadu.let.uniroma1.it/cgi-bin/cmcl/chiamata.cgi.

228

Four Pseudo-Athanasius Texts: Edition, Translation, and Commentary

The text occupies folios 89r to 99r of codex M 602. Attributed to St. Athanasius of Alexandria, it is a homily on the two archangels Michael and Gabriel, and is part of a codex containing seven texts, all of which honor St. Michael the archangel.4 The codex has no colophon. After the title, which attributes the homily to Athanasius, the author begins to warn his congregation about fornication, mentioning how horrible the punishment of adultery is and using biblical quotations to give examples from the Old Testament (f. 89r–91v). The core of the text then commences, in which the author preaches to his audience about the glory of Michael and Gabriel and their support of the pure and innocent man. To clarify his points, the author tells five different stories about: (1) the Arian George, who persecuted the people of Alexandria while Athanasius was exiled (f. 29r–93v)5; (2) a rich man from Pentapolis who fraudulently took a large amount of money from a young man (f. 93r–95r); (3) a young pagan boy who wished very much to see the Lord, and then the Lord revealed himself to him (f. 95r–96v); (4) a rich man who fell down powerless in the church because of adultery (f. 96v–97v); (5) a pious builder who went to the church daily. That builder fell into the hands of a demon during the one morning he was unable to enter the church (f. 97v– 98r). It appears that the archangels have nothing to do with these stories, except for their appearance towards the end in order to help the oppressed. It is noteworthy that the author commits a mistake in the narrative as he jumps from the middle of one story to start the next one and then returns to finish the first story. By the end of the text, he gives some information about the function of both archangels, which can only be known from apocryphal texts (f. 98r–99r). Text B: Homilia de homicidis et auaris, CPG 2191, CPC 00486 Immediately following the last text, on folios 99v to 111v of codex M 602, we find text B, “On Murder and Greed” and “On St. Michael the Archangel.”7 The text’s title attributes this homily to St. Athanasius, who delivered it in front of St. Pachomius the Archimandrite. After giving a short introduction about St. Michael’s feast, the author begins his  4

For a full description of the codex, see L. Depuydt, Catalogue of Coptic Manuscripts in the Pierpont Morgan Library, Louvain 1993, Nr. 166.6, pp. 224– 30. 5 George is known elsewhere in Coptic sources. For example, see T. Orlandi, Storia della chiesa di Alessandria, Vol. I, Milan 1970, pp. 22–41. 6 http://rmcisadu.let.uniroma1.it/cgi-bin/cmcl/chiamata.cgi. 7 Depuydt, Catalogue, Nr. 116.7.

Ibrahim Saweros

229

discourse on murderers and greedy people (f. 99v). To warn his audience about greed and murder, he relates two visions of St. Pachomius. In the first, St. Pachomius saw a deacon unworthy to receive communion, who is revealed to be a murderer (f. 102v–106v).8 The second vision is about the punished people in Hades; the author emphasizes that Christians who commit murder will be punished like pagans (f. 106v–107v). A traditional vision of St. Michael to St. Athanasius is related. At the end of the text, the author briefly praises St. Michael (f. 109r–111v). Text C: In Lucam 11, 5-9, CPG 2194, CPC 00579 The text from folios 35v to 49v of codex M 577 is a homily on Luke 11:5– 9; it is attributed to the same author.10 Judging from the title, this homily was delivered as an answer to some questions from the clergy. The author begins with basic comments on the parable of the friend at midnight, and then he presents some spiritual contemplation on the same parable (f. 36r– 42r). The author then begins to praise and recount the marvelous deeds of the monastic community of Thebes under the leadership of St. Pachomius. As an example, he tells about a wicked rich man who became a monk and then a bishop after St. Pachomius performed a miracle on him (f. 42v– 45v). He answers a question from his audience by discussing the friendship of David and Jonathan—he concentrates on the difference between such biblical friendship and the sort found in his own time (f. 45v–46v). The author further speaks about the Nicene Council and describes the adventures of Alexander of Alexandria there (f. 46v–48v). Finally, he gives a short exhortation about the disposition required before going to church, which brings the text to an end (f. 48v–49v). Text D: In Pentecostem, CPG 2192, CPC 005211 This homily is from Codex M 595’s folios 118v to 140v.12 As mentioned in its title, it is about Pentecost, as well as poverty and richness, and is divided into four main parts. It was delivered in front of a group of bishops. The author first begins to warn his audience about various sins,  8

L. Th. Lefort, S. Pachomii vitae sahidice scriptae, CSCO 99, Louvain 1933, pp. 347–50; L. Th. Lefort, Les vies coptes de Saint Pachôme et de ses premiers successeurs, Louvain 1943, pp. 382–85. 9 http://rmcisadu.let.uniroma1.it/cgi-bin/cmcl/chiamata.cgi 10 Depuydt, Catalogue, Nr. 172.4, pp. 353–56. 11 http://rmcisadu.let.uniroma1.it/cgi-bin/cmcl/chiamata.cgi 12 Depuydt, Catalogue, Nr. 170.9, pp. 345–50.

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Four Pseudo-Athanasius Texts: Edition, Translation, and Commentary

the most mentioned of which is adultery (f. 118v–121v). He explains that man is very short-lived and a stranger on earth, and advises his audience not to collect possessions. In the second part, he concentrates on family issues, such as the man’s role as head of the family. His mission is to teach his children, and he should treat his servants respectfully. The author also asks fathers not to let their children or wives associate with Jews; he further asks the wife to respect her husband (f. 121v–127v). The third section is the longest. The author warns his audience that they will not live forever and will be judged soon. He gives two biblical examples to illustrate the difference between righteous and sinful rich people: Lazarus and the rich man,13 and Abraham as a rich man.14 He asks the rich to console the poor and explains that it is possible for the rich to go to heaven. The author also gives some instructions to the bishops in his presence, concentrating on being active in their services (f. 127v–137r). By the end of this part, the author says that a poor man’s death will be peaceful and calm (since it is supposed that he is an upright man), while the death of a rich man is completely to the contrary. The fourth part deals with entering the church; everyone should prepare himself before going to the church (f. 137r–140v). Throughout this homily, the author quotes so many verses from the Bible that it makes his argument incoherent.

Parallel (Fragmentary) Manuscripts For text A, I managed to find one fragment kept in the British Library under Nr. 8802.15 This fragment was found at Deir al-SuriƗn and is a palimpsest. It was published by van Lantschoot and contains part of the story of the adulterer who fell down in the church (f. 97v). Although it is very small, it indicates that is richer than the Pierpont Morgan manuscript. A group of fragments parallel to text B came from the White Monastery. They were identified by Morard,16 Lucchesi,17 and most

 13

Luke 16:19–31. 14 Gen. 12–13. 15 B. Layton, Catalogue of Coptic Literary Manuscripts in the British Library Acquired Since the Year 1906, London 1987, Nr. 174, pp. 215–16. 16 F. Morard, “Les recueils coptes d’Actes apocryphes des apôtres. Un exemple: le codex R,” Augustinianum 23 (1983), pp. 73–82. 17 E. Lucchesi, “Identification de Strasbourg Copte 248,” Orientalia 78 (2009), pp. 92–95.

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recently Alin Suciu.18 Some of these fragments have been published by Amelineau,19 Lefort,20 and Youhanna Nessim.21 All these fragments suggest that at least two copies of text B, “On Murder and Greed and St. Michael,” were kept at the White Monastery. These fragments represent a shorter recension of the text.

Arabic Recensions I did a brief survey in the largest collections of Arabic Christian Manuscripts and found two complete texts.22 One is entitled “Homily Delivered by St. Athanasius, Patriarch of the Great City, Alexandria, on the Feast Day of the Archangel Michael”—it was copied several times until the 18th century, but the contents of these copies are completely different.23 It relates a group of miracles performed by St. Michael. The second text is entitled “A Homily that the Holy Father, Athanasius the Apostolic, Patriarch of the Great City, Alexandria, Composed on the Venerable Feast Day of Pentecost.”24 It is also different from the Sahidic recension, and its theological level is much higher. Both bear the same titles as texts A and D, respectively. Whether these are much-altered  18

A. Suciu, “Further Leaves from a White Monastery Codex Containing Texts attributed to Athanasius of Alexandria,” Orientalia 81 (2012), 87–90, pl. XXII– XXV. 19 E. Amélineau, Monuments pour servir à l’histoire de l’Égypte chrétienne aux IVe et Ve siècles, Vol. 2, Paris 1895, 609–11. 20 Lefort, Pachomii, 347–50. 21 Y. N. Youssef, “The Archangel Michael and the Patriarchs in Exile in the Coptic Tradition,޵ in A. Boud’hors and N. Bosson (eds.), Actes du huitième congrès international d’études coptes: Paris, 28 juin-3 juillet, Vol. 2, Louvain 2007, pp. 645–56. 22 For the Arabic texts attributed to Athanasius of Alexandria, see G. Graf, Geschichte der christlichen arabischen Literatur, Vol. 1, Vatican 1944, pp. 310– 16; L. Cheikho, Catalogue raisonné des manuscrits historiques de la bibliothèque orientale de l’université St. Joseph, Beirut 1913, pp. 24–25; S. KhalƯl (ed.), The Lamp that Lights the Darkness in Clarifying the Service by Ibn-Kabar; the Priest of the Hanging Church, Vol. I, Cairo 1974, p. 292 (in Arabic). 23 Graf, Geschichte, p. 542. 24 Graf, Geschichte, pp. 314; M. Simaika, Catalogue of the Coptic and Arabic Manuscripts in the Coptic Museum, the Patriarchate, the Principal Churches of Cairo and Alexandria and the Monasteries of Egypt, Cairo 1939, Nr. 59, pp. 31– 32; W.F. Macomber et al., Final Inventory of the Microfilmed Manuscripts of the Coptic Museum Old Cairo, Egypt, Utah 1995, Roll A-16, Item 1, Nr. 32–33.

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recensions of the Sahidic texts or are independent compositions remains to be seen.

Dates of the Manuscripts Manuscript C has a colophon which states that its donators are Petros, the son of Severos, and his daughter Nonna, who were both from Narmoute. They donated it to the monastery of St. Michael the Archangel on 611 AM/894–5 AD. 25 By the end of the codex which contains manuscript D, there is one more colophon dated 571 AM/855 AD. 26 Leo Depuydt dated manuscripts A and B to 822–3 and 913–4 AD, based on the colophons from the other manuscripts in the Pierpont Morgan collection.27 Therefore, all four manuscripts would appear to belong to the ninth–tenth centuries. Moreover, the paleographical features and the decoration of the manuscripts are typical of the same period.28 Although there are forty years separating the dates of manuscripts A, B, and D, it looks as if they were copied by one single scribe, while C looks different. The texts of these manuscripts, however, are much older, as will be explained in the following.

Authenticity In his 1987 unpublished dissertation about Athanasius, Robert Riall drew up a long list of 16 sermons attributed to Athanasius, which he considered to be remnants of the original corpus.29 Riall offered two arguments for this phenomenon: (1) the long time Athanasius spent as bishop (45 years), and (2) what is said in the Sahidic History of the Church of Alexandria about Athanasius’s writings.30 Here I adopt a contrary position, instead relying on the seven rubrics that David Brakke gave in his article on the authenticity of the ascetic Athanasiana.31 Applying Brakke’s rubrics to  25

A. van Lantschoot, Recueil des colophons des manuscrits chrétiens d’Égypte, Vol. I, Louvain 1929, Nr. 21, pp. 39–40. 26 Van Lantschoot, Recueil, Nr. 9, p. 18. 27 Depuydt, Catalogue, p. 224. 28 V. Stegemann, Koptische Palaȋographie, Heidelberg 1936, pp. 14–17. 29 See R. A. Riall, Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria: The Politics of Spirituality, Unpublished Dissertation, University of Cincinnati 1987, pp. 387–91. 30 Riall, Athanasius, pp. 392. 31 D. Brakke, “The Authenticity of the Ascetic Athanasiana,޵ Orientalia 63 (1994), pp. 17–56.

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these four homilies yields interesting results. For instance, until now, there is no evidence of Greek origins for these texts. There are also no parallels with other accepted, genuine writings of Athanasius. Nothing of Athanasius’s milieu, personal history, language, or theological ideas are attested in these homilies. The only evidence for Athanasius’s authorship are some well-known stories about Arian persecution32 and his meeting with St. Pachomius.33 The author(s) started each new subject with sentences like: “As for me, Athanasius, your father, I did [or said] this.” One cannot imagine Athanasius speaking about himself like this or repeating it so many times with different variations. Even a normal reader cannot detect any influence of either Athanasius’s high standard of writing or his method of structuring argumentation. Consequently, it is quite certain that all four homilies are unauthentic, i.e., pseudo-Athanasius.

Authorship The author(s) of these four homilies had knowledge of a group of Greek or Coptic sources. Some well-known apocryphal traditions derive from the Life of Adam and Eve or the book of Enoch.34 The Life of St. Pachomius is quoted many times, particularly the episode of the supposed meeting between St. Pachomius and St. Athanasius.35 The author mentions the story of George the Arian, who worked against Athanasius in Alexandria—a story well-known from Socrates’s Ecclesiastical History.36 More details about George have reached us in the Sahidic version of the History of the Church of Alexandria.37 The author relates some details from the acts the of the Nicene Council, focusing on the heroic attitude of Alexander, bishop of Alexandria.38 The author also uses some well-known Egyptian Christian traditions about St. Michael (i.e., that he was active in appearing to exiled  32

P. Gemeinhardt (ed.), Athanasius Handbuch, Tübingen 2011, pp. 73–165. 33 For example, see J. van der Vliet, “S. Pachome et S. Athanase: Un entretien apocryphe,޵ Analecta Bollandiana 110 (1992), pp. 21–27. 34 W. Budge, Coptic Apocrypha in the Dialect of Upper Egypt, London, 1913, pp. 63–64; C. D.G. Müller, Die Bucher der Einsetzung der Erzengel Michael und Gabriel, in CSCO, tome 225, Louvain 1962, p. 70; C. D. G. Müller, Die Engellehre der Koptischen Kirche, Wiessbaden 1959, p. 21. 35 A. Veilleux, Pachomian Koinonia, Vol. 1, Michigan 1980, pp. 248–52. 36 Socrates, Ecclesiastical History, Book II, Chapter XV, XXVIII. 37 See n. 6 above. 38 F. Haase, Die Koptischen Quellen zum Konzil von Nicaȋa, Schoȋningh 1920.

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patriarchs).39 He refers to a wall painting in an Alexandrian church, which to my knowledge was not known before the fifth century.40 The author shows firsthand knowledge of the details of daily life in Alexandria. He uses words like Eparchos or Augustalios to express the governor of the city and knows a certain sub-type of deacon (etroeis, the guardian deacons). All of this may suggest that the author was a clergyman from Alexandria, perhaps a monk who lived around the Arab conquest, and was close to the church with access to local traditions. In addition, it is very possible that these sermons were composed first in Greek before finding their way into Sahidic. Thus, we likely have an unknown clergyman author (or group of authors) who wrote these texts in the form of homilies and attributed them falsely to a famous father of the church and included group of episodes from this father’s life in the text. What do these texts lack in order to be considered as parts of an Athanasian cycle?41 Tito Orlandi states his own theory about the cycles: “One can perceive in these authors, whose names will forever remain unknown, the desire to form a Coptic ecclesiastical society with definite, limited horizons.”42 In trying to understand the composition of these texts, many issues need to be considered. Egypt was actively changing, politically and ecclesiastically. At least in the countryside, Copts didn’t interact with the Arabs. Both groups lived in a multicultural society majorly impacted by Greek influences. Within the church itself, the patriarchal residence moved from Alexandria to Cairo, and the Bohairic dialect overcame Sahidic. In the midst of all this activity, unknown, isolated, and independent authors spent great effort to achieve something that resembled the writings of their forebears. They had to decide what to translate, copy, edit, omit, and add to the sources then known to them. What we now have are their best literary productions, which can be called “homiletic cyclic texts” with some confidence since the author(s) recycled old sources to produce new ones for clear religious purposes. Studying the aims and purposes of the author may shed some light on his audience. These were: (1) to comment on certain well-known biblical  39

Youssef, The Archangel Michael, 646–47. 40 A. Badawy, Coptic art and archaeology: the art of the Christian Egyptians from the Late Antique to the Middle Ages, London 1978, pp. 240–42. 41 The first to use this term was Tito Orlandi in 1991. Since that time, it has been widely used without any serious criticism. See T. Orlandi, “Cycle,޵ in A. S. Atyia (ed.), The Coptic Encyclopedia, Vol. 3, New York 1991, 666–69. 42 T. Orlandi, “Coptic Literature,޵ in B. A. Pearson and J. E. Goehring (eds.), The Roots of Egyptian Christianity, Philadelphia 1986, p. 80.

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verses; (2) to defame heretics and persecutors; (3) to install in his audience respect for the angelic figures of Michael and Gabriel; (4) to invent a reason for the celebration of Michael and Gabriel; and (5) to create propaganda for the heroes of the Egyptian church. His audience presumably consisted of Egyptians who had lost contact with Greek culture and lacked background on the hero of theological debates in the past, Athanasius. Moreover, the inhabitants of a village like Narmoute (where these manuscripts were copied)43 may have constituted such an audience. It is a matter of fact that these texts were used and read in different places in Egypt around the ninth–tenth centuries AD.

Genre It is clear that the manuscripts and codices containing the texts were edited and put together for liturgical use within the church. Text D is long enough that it might have needed an hour or more to be preached, but according to Müller it seems that this was normal in antiquity.44 The author didn’t use any rhetorical style as far as I can find, since playing with words was not his purpose. Instead, his main goal was storytelling, considering the mentality of his readers.45 Needless to say, storytelling is a major characteristic of Egyptian Christian literature in general. The texts begin with a title in which the major themes of the homily are mentioned.46 An extremely short introduction follows, and then the preacher discusses his main points, underscoring each with a story. Müller suggested that the young Coptic preacher received some kind of practice through which he learned to give an introduction, argumentations, and a conclusion in his

 43

Depuydt, Catalogue, pp. CIII-CXII. 44 C. D. G. Müller, Die alte koptische Predigt. Versuch eines Uberblicks, Unpublished Dissertation, Heidelberg 1945, pp. 343–49. A summary of the dissertation’s results were published in C. D. G. Müller, “Einige Bemerkungen zur ‘ars praedicandi’ der alten koptischen Kirche,޵ Le Muséon 67 (1954), pp. 231–70. 45 Compare with C. Rapp, “Storytelling as Spiritual Communication in Early Greek Hagiography: The Use of Diegesis,޵ Journal of Early Christian Studies 3 (1998), pp. 431–48. 46 For “Extended Simple Structure Titles,޵ see P. Buzi, Titoli e autori nella tradizione Copta: studio storico e tipologico, Pisa 2005, pp. 107–108; P. Buzi, “Titles in the Coptic Manuscript Tradition: Comples strucutres titles and Extendes Comples Structure Titles,޵ in M. Immerzeel and J. van der Vliet (eds.), Coptic studies on the threshold of a new millennium: proceedings of the Seventh International Congress of Coptic Studies, Leiden 2000, pp. 309–16.

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sermons.47 If we apply this to our homilies, we may conclude that the Coptic preacher used this style several times in each homily; however, if one thinks of the homily as a single complete work, Müller’s views are far from reality. The author needed stories in order to persuade his congregation and attract their attention. Apparently, he succeeded in doing so to the extent that these texts became popular enough to be recopied and translated. The literary level of the story telling in these homilies clearly shows that the author never received any formal rhetorical training. He doesn’t care about clarity, brevity, and plausibility in order to reach his goal of honoring the heroes of his stories. It is important to realize, however, that in storytelling the goal of the preacher is not to relate accurate events but to involve his audience in the narrative for the sake of his spiritual purposes. Finally, these texts went through a long process of transmission. They were edited and reedited several times to fit different places, circumstances, and (perhaps) purposes. The process of transmission involved two main aspects: (1) the style of the language itself, the text being shortened or enriched according to the skills of the scribe; (2) the contents, to which elements are added according to the purposes of the scribe. From the beginning, these sermons were written, not preached. Later on, they were specifically ordered to be used repeatedly, to be included in liturgical books, or to inspire a preacher. The writers successfully used the name of Athanasius as a prominent symbol in the history of the church, as he was the hero of Orthodoxy, the supporter of monasticism, and the champion of the fight against heretic movements. These texts deserve our attention as witnesses of the past. If properly evaluated, they may fill a gap in present knowledge of Coptic literature and history.

 47

C. D. G. Müller, “Koptische Redekunst und griechische Rhetorik,޵ Le Muséon 69 (1956), pp. 57–59.

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