Women’s History in Greece through The Ladies’ Journal of Kallirhoe Siganou-Parren:
Class, National Identity, and Reformist Activism
in the Formation of Women’s Associations (1887–1917)

Marina Bantiou

University of Peloponnese

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 Hungarian Historical Review Volume 14 Issue 3 (2025): 317-350 DOI 10.38145/2025.3.317

This paper investigates how The Ladies’ Journal (Efimeris ton Kyrion), edited by Kallirhoe Siganou-Parren between 1887 and 1917, constructed a gendered historical consciousness and mobilized national history as a vehicle for women’s civic inclusion in late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Greece. Through a qualitative content and discourse analysis of selected articles from the journal’s complete digitized archive, the study examines how Parren strategically invoked historical female figures, from classical Antiquity to the Greek War of Independence and the Byzantine era, to legitimize women’s public roles within a framework of patriotic maternalism and bourgeois respectability. These representations restored women to history and actively recast historical memory as a tool for moral instruction, civic pedagogy, and reformist activism. While rooted in nationalist ideology, the journal’s narratives also reflected transnational influences through Parren’s engagement with international feminist networks and suffrage congresses. The article argues that this hybrid mode of popular historiography simultaneously enabled middle-class women’s symbolic integration into the nation and reinforced prevailing class and gender hierarchies. Ultimately, it situates The Ladies’ Journal as a formative site for the articulation of women’s associative practices and reformist discourse, while also critically assessing its role in shaping the terms and limits of female civic identity.

Keywords: women’s history in Greece, Kallirhoe Parren, Ephimeris ton Kyrion, feminist historiography, Greek women’s associations, maternalism, Greek feminist movement

Introduction

In the late nineteenth century, the rise of the middle class and Greece’s irredentist ambitions led to a redefinition of womanhood. Emphasis was placed on women’s domestic and maternal responsibilities as key to nurturing virtuous citizens, while this shift, driven by the nationalistic “Great Idea” (Megáli Idéa) extended women’s roles into the public sphere, where they became instrumental in supporting the state’s mission through activities such as fundraising and collaborating with international women’s organizations.1 Among them, Kallirhoe Siganou-Parren (1861–1940) played a catalytic role in shaping the discursive and organizational foundations of women’s reformist activism.2 Through The Ladies’ Journal (Ephimeris ton Kyrion), the first Greek periodical edited by and for women, Parren advanced a vision of civic motherhood and gendered patriotism that sought to reconcile female emancipation with dominant national ideologies. While scholars such as Angelika Psarra and Eleni Varika have examined Parren’s nationalist maternalism and her reformist approach to women’s roles,3 this article extends the discussion by analyzing how women’s historical narratives functioned as ideological instruments within her editorial strategy.

Rather than reasserting Parren’s ideological framework as such, this study offers a systematic content and discourse analysis of The Ladies’ Journal, with a focus on how its historical representations constructed a usable past that legitimated women’s participation in public life. Drawing on the complete digitized archive of the journal (1887–1917), I examine the selection, rhetoric, and thematic organization of articles published by Parren and her collaborators on historical female figures, national heroines, intellectuals, and empresses. These representations served not only to restore women to the national narrative but also to define a specific, class-bound model of female citizenship that reinforced gender hierarchies even as it proposed incremental reforms.

By contextualizing these representations within the broader social and political transformations of late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Greece, this article analyzes how The Ladies’ Journal operated as a platform of reformist activism rooted in women’s networks, educational philanthropy, and international feminist exchange. Particular attention is given to the interplay between history-writing and associational culture: how the journal’s narratives about women’s pasts shaped the founding ethos of institutions such as the Union for Women’s Emancipation (Ένωση υπέρ της Χειραφετήσεως των Γυναικών) (1893), the Union of Greek Women (Ένωση των Ελληνίδων) (1896), and the Lyceum of Greek Women (Λύκειο Ελληνίδων) (1911). The goal is to reassess Parren’s contribution to Greek women’s history and illuminate the ways in which historiographical practices themselves were mobilized as instruments of activism. In this regard, the article also contributes to the broader historiography of women’s movements in Europe by situating the Greek case within the transnational networks of the period. It argues that Parren’s engagement with international congresses and suffrage alliances helped shape a model of activism that was both embedded in national narratives and transnationally informed. Yet, this model remained restricted by class, education, and cultural capital, raising critical questions about the inclusivity of early women’s organizations and the boundaries of what we define as activism.

Historical and Ideological Background

In Greece at the turn of the twentieth century, the terms “feminism” and “emancipation” carried specific meanings. “Feminism” had not yet been firmly associated with women’s rights and was often used in male philogynic discourse, while “emancipation” referred to women’s demands for economic independence through work and, to a lesser extent, political rights.4 Parren articulated a dis­tinctly Greek version of emancipation, focusing not on women’s political enfranchisement but on their empowerment through access to education and paid employment.5

The development of gender consciousness and the literary endeavors of women in nineteenth-century Greece constituted essential channels for the expression of aspirations concerning women’s emancipation and challenges to patriarchal structures, especially among educated women in the educational sector, where their writings confronted the intricacies of social relations and offered a means to assert an independent female identity.6 Educated middle-class women began to articulate a shared gender identity and common interests, leading to the emergence of feminist consciousness.7 Nationalist discourse linked gender and nation, positioning women as essential to the civilizing mission of Hellenism, and women’s education became critical in forming future citizens and teaching Hellenic virtues to “unredeemed” territories.8 To understand this linkage, it is essential to recognize a concurrent shift in the dominant educational and scientific discourses: women were no longer viewed solely through the lens of theological inferiority but rather as naturally distinct but equal to men, endowed with allegedly differentiated capabilities suited to specific social functions.

This emerging ideology, described by Varika and others as “equality in difference,” became a cornerstone of nationalist thinking.9 The doctrine of “equality in difference” framed women as biologically and emotionally distinct from men, confining them to the private sphere while assigning them a crucial yet subordinate role in nurturing male citizens to serve the nationalist aims of the Greek irredentist vision.10 Parren’s advocacy for women’s rights through The Ladies’ Journal remained embedded in this essentialist discourse, emphasizing education, work, and moral upliftment within strictly defined maternal and patriotic boundaries. Her vision did not challenge prevailing gender hierarchies but sought rather to reconfigure women’s roles to align more closely with the perceived needs of the nation.

In the late nineteenth century, although it seemed unimaginable that women’s history would become a serious scholarly pursuit in academic circles, first-wave feminists like Jenny P. d’Héricourt, Susan B. Anthony, and Elizabeth Cady Stanton asserted women’s claims to rights by writing historical accounts about women. Their work inspired Parren, who regularly attended international women’s congresses. Influenced by these pioneers, she ambitiously sought to write the “History of Woman from the Beginning of the World to Today” in 1889, a project that aimed to span various global civilizations and reflect on women’s historical roles.11 Parren endeavored to integrate Greek women into the national historical narrative. To establish a feminist discourse in Greece, Parren and her collaborators engaged in a critical reexamination of history, particularly the portrayal of women in Greek myths and historical narratives.12 They challenged the male-dominated construction of these stories, emphasizing the historical presence of strong female figures as both a source of pride for women and a vital tool for legitimizing Greek feminism within the national context.13

First-wave Greek feminists, while emphasizing their “Greekness” as a way of asserting their belonging within a distinct national community and positioning themselves as part of Greek history, maintained connections with Western feminism.14 Their involvement in national crises, especially during the 1897 Greek-Turkish war, was framed within an essentialist discourse linking women’s political participation to their alleged bio-social roles, particularly motherhood, which was redefined as a patriotic duty that justified the gradual easing of their social exclusion.15 Psarra argues that Parren’s work represented a pioneering attempt to construct a coherent women’s history in Greece, utilizing the legitimizing discourse of history to empower the modern women’s movement by framing Greek women as distinct historical agents capable of claiming their own collective identity and rights.16

By emphasizing women’s roles and contributions, the journal sought to advance a discourse on women’s rights17 and also to reframe dominant conceptions of national identity to include female experiences and perspectives. This intervention challenged prevailing historical narratives, which had long marginalized women’s contributions. Parren strategically employed historical narratives to legitimize women’s demands for social inclusion, presenting them as an integral part of the nation’s civilizational and patriotic struggles. More specifically, she used history to legitimize the women’s movement by positioning women as distinct historical agents who made their own contributions to civilization and national struggles, allowing them to demand inclusion in the national narrative and challenge traditional views of women’s immobility, thereby empowering them to fight for their rights from a stronger position.18

However, as Psarra noted, this discourse primarily addressed women of Parren’s own bourgeois class, or in other words educated, urban women whose social standing and educational capital enabled them to participate in the limited public sphere envisioned by the nationalist and reformist discourses of the era.19 Her historical representations thus did not seek to dismantle class or gender hierarchies but rather to insert a select group of women into the national narrative by appealing to maternalist and patriotic ideals.20 In this way, women were “empowered” to act from within existing structures rather than radically to transform them. Even in her later interventions, such as during the First National Women’s Conference of 1921, Parren’s appeals to women’s civic roles remained couched in essentialist and conservative terms. Moreover, her alignment with institutions such as the Lyceum of Greek Women in the interwar period further reinforced a maternalist vision of women’s contributions to the nation, one rooted in idealized motherhood and middle-class domestic virtues rather than political or social radicalism. Her approach, though pioneering in form, ultimately reinscribed gender and class hierarchies under the guise of patriotic uplift. This ideological moderation should be understood in relation to broader political shifts in Greece. The Balkan Wars (1912–1913), the National Schism (1915–1917), and the Asia Minor Catastrophe (1922) fundamentally transformed the national imaginary and created new tensions around the role of women in the civic sphere. While Parren’s 1880s–1890s activism emphasized reformist engagement rooted in education and philanthropy, by the 1920s, her alignment with the monarchy and her efforts to distance herself and her ideas from liberal and socialist feminist voices signaled a retreat into more conservative positions that prioritized cultural nationalism over political rights. Women’s rights advocates at the turn of the century, viewing political equality as a premature demand, argued that the granting of political rights should follow the securing of civil and social rights and thus refrained from explicitly articulating a claim for full political emancipation.21

To better situate Parren’s historical interventions within the broader trajectory of gender historiography in Greece, it is instructive briefly to consider the development of the field itself. In Greece, the study of “Women’s History” initially emerged in close connection with the post-1974 movement for women’s rights, which sought to reconstruct the collective memory of women’s struggles by tracing historical continuities of dissent and exploring the changing forms of gendered oppression within bourgeois society, particularly in the realms of family, education, labor, and politics.22 While early scholarship often emphasized these themes through the lens of ideological discourse and lived social realities,23 subsequent decades witnessed a significant expansion of the field. The establishment of undergraduate and postgraduate programs focused on gender history in Greek universities has facilitated the diffusion of new methodological and theoretical approaches.24 A key milestone in this evolution was the founding in 2007 of the Historians for Research in the History of Women and Gender, the Greek Committee of the International Federation for Research in Women’s History (IFRWH).25 This evolving scholarly context has reshaped the ways in which figures like Parren are interpreted, not only as national reformers but also as early agents in the construction of gendered historical consciousness.

Kallirhoe Siganou Parren and The Ladies’ Journal

Born in Crete in 1861 and later acquiring a strong educational background, Parren served as the Director of girls’ schools in Adrianople and Odessa before returning to Athens, where she married Ioannis Parren, a journalist and the founder of the Athens News Agency. This marriage immersed her in the social, political, and literary dynamics of her era, profoundly shaping her active involvement in journalism.26

The inaugural issue of this magazine was released in Athens on March 8, 1887, priced at ten cents of the drachma and with an annual subscription fee of five drachmas for domestic readers. Over time, the journal cultivated a consistent group of approximately 18 female contributors, predominantly educators, and achieved a significant readership. Parren managed to establish a successful net­­work of international collaboration and recognition among women, com­pensating for the lack of domestic acknowledgment of Greek feminists. With contributions by various intellectuals, feminists, and Greek women from the Diaspora, particularly from the United States and France, the paper gained prestige and fostered an important transnational exchange within the feminist movement.27

The journal enjoyed extensive geographical distribution, drawing female subscribers from across the independent Greek state as well as from areas within the Ottoman Empire, the Balkans, and the Aegean islands.28 According to Varika, statistics from the Ministry of Interior reveal that within the first six months of 1892, The Ladies’ Journal ranked second in circulation among weekly publications, with 5,000 copies.29 The journal included several unsigned articles authored by Parren.30 For its first two decades, it was issued weekly, transitioning to a biweekly format after 1908, and ultimately going out of circulation in November 1917, after a total of 1,106 issues had gone to press.

As noted by Varika, The Ladies’ Journal played a pivotal role in shaping Greek feminist consciousness and advancing the cause of women’s emancipation.31 It fostered collective awareness of gender equality issues and disseminated ideas in support of women’s rights, laying the foundations for the feminist movement in Greece. However, it carefully avoided demands for political rights, advocating a “moderate” form of emancipation that respected biological and social differences and emphasized women’s roles in the national and familial spheres, with Parren calling for reforms in women’s societal contributions based on a notion of patriotic motherhood.32

Parren’s contributions to the formation and expansion of women’s associations in Greece were pioneering and reflect the multifaceted approach she adopted in advancing women’s rights. In 1889, she established the first “Sunday School” (Σχολή της Κυριακής, απόρων γυναικών και κορασίδων) to address illiteracy among impoverished girls, followed by the founding of the Asylum of Saint Catherine (Άσυλο της Αγίας Αικατερίνης) in 1892, which provided shelter for young women migrating to Athens for work, and the Asylum for the Incurable in 1896.33 After attending international feminist congresses in Chicago (1893) and Paris (1896), she founded the Union for Women’s Emancipation (Ένωση υπέρ της Χειραφετήσεως των Γυναικών) and later the Union of Greek Women (Ένωση των Ελληνίδων), which played a critical role during the Greco-Turkish War.34 In 1911, she established the Lyceum of Greek Women (Λύκειο Ελληνίδων).35

Over the years, however, her engagement with the women’s question became more aligned with conservative and nationalist frameworks, reflecting a gradual moderation of her earlier positions.36 During World War I, Parren’s anti-war stance, fueled by the unprecedented violence and her royalist sympathies, led her to align with Queen Sophia’s pacifist efforts and reject the liberal Venizelist party.37 Parren’s support for the monarchy during the National Schism and her criticism of the war effort led to her exile in 1917.38 This development, however, stemmed more from her political allegiances than from the impact of her activities, and it should not be conflated with her broader social influence or with the reception of her ideas among different segments of Greek society. Nevertheless, her prolonged absence from public life had a notable impact on the continuity of The Ladies’ Journal, which was closely tied to her efforts as editor and her personal networks. The journal eventually ceased publication.

Methodology

This study adopts a qualitative methodological framework to analyze the ways in which The Ladies’ Journal constructed and deployed narratives of women’s history as tools for ideological and reformist activism. The research centers on articles authored or curated by Kallirhoe Siganou-Parren between 1887 and 1917, focusing specifically on narrative depictions of historical women, national heroines, empresses, and intellectuals. The study does not treat these depictions as objective historical reconstructions but rather as discursive interventions shaped by the ideological imperatives of gender, class, and nationalism in late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Greece. The analysis is grounded in three interrelated methods: qualitative content analysis, thematic analysis, and discourse analysis. Content analysis enables a systematic examination of recurring subjects and figures within the corpus of The Ladies’ Journal, identifying the frequency, selection, and narrative positioning of historical female protagonists. Thematic analysis is used to the trace broader ideological patterns, such as civic maternalism, moral exemplarity, and patriotic motherhood that structure the journal’s historical narratives. Articles were also coded for historical period (ancient, Byzantine, modern), figure type (war heroine, intellectual, empress, philanthropist), and narrative function (commemoration, exhortation, comparison with contemporary women). Discourse analysis complements these approaches by focusing on the rhetorical strategies and linguistic framing through which Parren and her contributors shaped meaning, legitimacy, and audience reception. This combination of methods facilitates an interpretive reading of the journal’s historiographical project as both a reflection of contemporary reformist thought and an instrument of cultural politics. The empirical base of the study is the complete digitized archive of The Ladies’ Journal, which is held in Lekythos, the Institutional Repository of the University of Cyprus. The journal is housed within the digital collection “Greek Press and Diaries of the 19th and 20th Century,” compiled and digitized by the Hellenic Literary and Historical Archive. This corpus provides a continuous and comprehensive source of primary material over the journal’s 30-year run, allowing for a longitudinal analysis of shifts in tone, content, and emphasis. The study also engages with Parren’s wider activist work in women’s associations as a means of contextualizing her editorial strategy. In this regard, the analysis traces how historical narratives in the journal were directly connected to the legitimization and mobilization of associative practices. The approach taken here is thus not only historical and textual but also socio-political, attentive to the intersections between editorial production, activist discourse, and national ideology. While Parren did not write as a professional historian, her work can be read as a form of popular historiography, characterized by a moralizing tone, selective biographies, and national romanticism. Rather than dismissing this work as non-scholarly, the article situates it as a gendered and classed mode of historical production, one that sought to insert women, particularly middle-class, educated women, into the symbolic fabric of the nation.

Women’s Historical Representations and the Construction
of Female Civic Identity

From its inception in 1887, The Ladies’ Journal consistently featured articles, biographical sketches, and essays on prominent female figures drawn from Greek Antiquity, the Byzantine period, and the modern era. These portrayals were not only commemorative but also served a broader ideological function: to establish a civic genealogy of exemplary women whose lives could inspire contemporary readers and validate women’s participation in public life. Drawing on both official historical sources and oral traditions, Parren articulated a historical continuum in which women were presented as agents of national service, moral fortitude, and intellectual capacity. Through this lens, the journal contributed to the construction of female civic identity by framing women’s historical contributions as foundational to the moral and cultural development of the Greek nation.

Parren sought to integrate Greek women into the narrative of the nation’s history by highlighting the stories of significant historical female figures in the journal, employing the legitimizing discourse of history to foreground modern women’s claims and rights.39 Her portrayals emphasized traits such as patriotism, self-sacrifice, and moral leadership, aligning with contemporary ideals of “patriotic motherhood.” This didactic use of history, shaped by the conventions of popular historical writing, provided a sense of historical continuity for women’s claims to civic recognition. Importantly, her approach did not seek to dismantle existing gender norms but to reframe them. Parren asserted that traditional maternal and educational roles had intrinsic civic value and were indispensable for national regeneration. This position allowed her to advocate for women’s inclusion in civic and political life while maintaining alignment with dominant nationalist narratives.

A recurrent theme in her historical writing was the valorization of female figures from the Greek War of Independence,40 particularly the Souliot women.41 These women, who had defended their homeland against Ottoman forces in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, became a focal point in The Ladies’ Journal. In an article from March 27, 1888, Parren commemorated their courage and sacrifice, portraying them as moral exemplars for modern Greek mothers.42 By invoking the image of women such as Moscho Tzavella43 and Despo Botsi,44 who were said to have resisted Ottoman forces heroically and even to have embraced martyrdom to avoid dishonor, Parren constructed a national-historical archetype rooted in maternal virtue and patriotic sacrifice. These figures were not framed as exceptional anomalies but as proof that women had long fulfilled vital roles in moments of national crisis. Haido, another such figure, was praised not only for her bravery and skill in arms but also for the tenderness and care she showed for wounded fighters, reinforcing the dual image of the woman as both warrior and nurturer.45

As Giannati has noted, Parren’s representation of such figures constructed a soteriological vision of the female hero. The heroic woman was depicted not merely a combatant but also as a “rear guard of the army” safeguarding moral continuity and collective identity.46 Parren’s disappointment at the omission of female fighters from official historiography was explicit. “Those who wrote the history of the new Greece,” she noted, “mention scattered and carelessly some of the names of the heroines of the Greek War of Independence.”47 Through her articles, she worked to correct this omission.

The didactic purpose of these representations was further underscored by Parren’s frequent critiques of contemporary Greek women for failing to live up to these historical ideals. In the wake of the 1897 Greco-Turkish War, she lamented the perceived apathy of modern women, contrasting their disengagement with the fortitude of their predecessors.48 This rhetorical strategy functioned as both a call to action and a form of moral instruction. It encouraged readers to reclaim their civic responsibilities by emulating the patriotic virtues of historical heroines.

Beyond revolutionary heroines, The Ladies’ Journal also showcased female intellectuals and philanthropists. A notable example was the publication of the Album of Distinguished Greek Women (Λεύκωμα Εξόχων Ελληνίδων) in Athens in 1893 in Greek. This was launched by a transnational network of Greek women from the diaspora, primarily from Romania and Russia, who financed the project collectively.49 Although the exact editorial board remains unclear, the album was widely circulated. It commemorated and promoted the contributions of prominent Greek women in the fields of education, charity, and national service. It marked a shift toward more sustained biographical engagement. Parren endorsed the album enthusiastically, integrating it into the journal’s content and encouraging contributions from readers. She described it as a significant “trophy of honor” and a unifying gesture among Greek women across borders.50 Thus, the biographical project became a participatory venture that sought to democratize access to historical memory and expand the pantheon of national heroines.

The more systematic publication of women’s biographies in The Ladies’ Journal commenced in the same period, driven in large part by contributors such as Sotiria Alimperti, a Greek educator who began her career in the Ottoman Empire.51 These biographies prominently featured women who emerged from families of fighters in the Greek War of Independence or from distinguished intellectual and political lineages. They highlighted their significant contributions to social and charitable efforts, which were central to the progress of Greek society. Each portrayal highlighted these women’s moral integrity and intellectual clarity and also their unwavering patriotic spirit, a recurring theme that aligned with the broader ideology of patriotic motherhood, which sought to legitimize women’s civic participation by framing their contributions in terms of national service.52 For example, the biographies of Kyriakoula Kriezi and Maria Petrettini, published in The Ladies’ Journal by Sotiria Alimperti, emphasized their noble lineage, charitable work, and educational efforts, casting them as maternal figures whose public engagement strengthened the moral fabric of the Greek nation.53 Kyriakoula Kriezi (abt. 1805–1876), the granddaughter of Admiral Antonios Kriezis (a hero of the Greek War of Independence and later Prime Minister), was portrayed as a woman who had inherited the patriotic virtues of her family, dedicating herself to philanthropic initiatives and the moral education of young girls. Similarly, Maria Petrettini (abt. 1774–1851), a Greek-Venetian aristocrat, was known for her involvement in women’s education and benevolent institutions in Athens, where she advocated for the intellectual development of women within a framework of Christian and national values. Both figures were presented not only as exemplars of female virtue but as embodiments of the ideal of patriotic motherhood, serving the nation through moral leadership and socially sanctioned public roles.

The emphasis on biographical recovery extended to female figures from Antiquity and Byzantium, often through a romantic-nationalist lens. Sappho was portrayed not only as “the greatest lyrical poetess” but also as a symbol of creative and emotional intelligence.54 Parren emphasized Sappho’s originality and poetic genius as a means of strengthening her argument that women had historically contributed to intellectual life. Through her emphasis on Sappho’s “simplicity and grace,” alongside the “strong expression of passion,” Parren constructed a narrative that acknowledged women’s emotional and intellectual contributions, reinforcing the idea that women have always played pivotal roles in the cultural and social fabric of society.55 The article ends with the following conclusion: “The woman is equal to the man. She has no need to imitate him, because she has the same gift of originality, invention, discovery. Entering the public sphere, she will not always follow the man, but she will precede him. She will even discover new ways of salvation, which he does not even suspect.”56 This passage reflects Parren’s vision of women not merely as participants in public life but as agents of moral and intellectual renewal, a notion closely tied to the idea of women as a “civilizing force,” a theme extensively discussed by Psarra in her analysis of gendered national discourse and maternalist feminism in modern Greece.57

Aspasia, likewise, was reframed as a political and intellectual force, “the first minister of the world,” whose influence on Pericles and Athens demonstrated the capacity of women for civic leadership.58 In another passage, Parren refuted the charge against Aspasia of being a hetaira, attributing it to political hostility and misogyny, and celebrated her as a visionary who helped raise Athens to cultural preeminence.59

Parren further explored the contributions of women from the Byzantine world, with particular attention to Empresses Irene, Theodora, Athinais, and Poulcheria.60 She presented these women as moral and political leaders who shaped religious life, governed justly, and exemplified the compatibility of female virtue and authority. Through her writings, Parren emphasized their administrative acumen and moral strength, using them to counter the dominant perception of women’s historical passivity. These portrayals extended the journal’s civic pedagogy by asserting a longue durée of female leadership in the Greek historical imagination.

Eleni Georgiadou, another contributor, also examined the emancipatory roles of women in religious life, particularly abbesses and nuns who wielded significant authority within their communities.61 Georgiadou’s articles contrasted the relative freedom of women in monastic contexts with the restrictions imposed on married women, offering an implicit critique of contemporary gender norms.

At times, Parren’s portrayals adopted a mythologizing tone, particularly in her treatment of the Souliot women and the legend of the Dance of Zalongo. While she was aware of the limitations of historical documentation, she deliberately used folk memory and national myth as tools for civic instruction. Her invocation of women as “Amazons” or “guardians of the homeland” focused less on historical precision and more on symbolic resonance. In crafting these narratives, she created a form of “usable past” that linked the moral and emotional capacities of women to the health and progress of the nation.

Throughout these narrative depictions, Parren advanced a gendered civic pedagogy rooted in patriotic maternalism. Rather than advocating for abstract political equality, she argued for women’s public inclusion on the basis of their historical and moral contributions. Her historical writings functioned as a means of cultivating civic identity, transmitting national values, and legitimizing women’s social action. These efforts were not framed in opposition to national ideology but in strategic alignment with it, allowing for a gradual expansion of women’s public roles within a culturally acceptable framework.

This section thus demonstrates how Parren’s historical narratives in The Ladies’ Journal functioned not only as acts of memory restoration but also as ideological interventions. By constructing a coherent lineage of female virtue, sacrifice, and public engagement, she positioned women as rightful participants in the moral and civic life of the nation. These representations laid the groundwork for broader reformist efforts and helped shape the collective identity of Greek women as agents of social and national renewal.

History as Instrument: Sources, Narratives, and Ideological Uses
in Parren’s Writings

Kallirhoe Parren’s representations of historical female figures in The Ladies’ Journal, notably beginning with the fourth issue (March 29, 1887), which featured a biographical tribute to Laskarina Bouboulina,62 played a formative role in shaping early women’ emancipation discourse in Greece by using national history as a means of legitimizing women’s social participation. These articles commemorated individual women but also actively sought to reinscribe them into the collective memory of the Greek nation. Parren’s editorial emphasis on patriotic sacrifice, moral virtue, and civic engagement, as seen in her later portrayals of Greek heroines, established a framework of historical continuity that connected modern women’s demands to a national legacy of female courage and contribution. As Psarra and Varika have noted, Parren’s strategic use of biographical recovery was foundational to the articulation of a Greek women’s history that challenged the invisibility of women within dominant historiography while remaining aligned with nationalist ideals.63

While the primary aim of The Ladies’ Journal was to improve women’s social position by advocating for their right to education and work, especially for unmarried women or those without male protection, and by affirming their importance as mothers of the nation, Parren also used the platform to promote a broader cultural agenda. In an 1892 article, she described the journal’s ambition to engage with historical narratives by “searching through entire libraries” to uncover evidence of women’s contributions to national history, which had often been neglected in favor of male achievements.64 This editorial mission was not confined to passive recovery but constituted an active intervention in historiographical production, designed to reframe history itself as a space accessible to women’s voices. Through this strategy, she encouraged contemporary Greek women to recognize distinguished female figures of the past as role models, thereby reinforcing their civic identity and moral legitimacy within the nation’s evolving public sphere.

However, Parren’s historical methodology deserves a closer examination if we seek to determine the extent to which her portrayals were based on rigorous scholarship and grounded in primary sources or leaned more toward anecdotal retellings shaped by popular narratives. Her editorial strategy combined the authority of historical writing with the accessibility of journalistic storytelling, thus constructing a hybrid mode of popular historiography. Parren’s treatment of history in her writings exemplifies the intersection of the national and woman questions, using maternalist rhetoric to highlight women’s role in the nation.65 She presents women as central to the preservation of historical continuity, emphasizing their duty as wives, mothers, and daughters to transmit Greek language, values, and traditions to future generations. This formulation links the civilizing mission of women with the nation’s progress, all framed within a patriotic, nationalist discourse.

Parren advocated for women’s inclusion in politics. She emphasized that the nation mirrors the family, thereby encouraged women to move from the private to the public sphere. She also urged women to engage with history, suggesting that every household should have historical books on its shelves to nurture in the women of the house a sense of civic responsibility and engagement in public life.66 In this framework, the historical education of women was not just beneficial, but necessary for the wellbeing of the national polity. Parren viewed history as the most suitable reading material for women, considering it an essential tool for educating and empowering the female gender.67 She emphasized that history, particularly the history of women, was a gift for women of all ages, accessible to women of any financial means, and essential if women sought to develop intellectual and moral strength.68

Parren used both traditional historical sources, such as official histories and archival biographies, and popular narratives, including folk songs, oral traditions, and mythologized accounts, to construct a lineage of exemplary female figures whose lives could inspire and legitimize public participation among women of her time. For instance, in her portrayals of Souliot heroines, she combined historical facts with elements drawn from popular memory and patriotic lore to emphasize their bravery, maternal sacrifice, and civic virtue. Similarly, her reimagining of Aspasia and Sappho drew on both classical references and cultural myth to present them as paragons of intellectual and moral excellence, whose legacies affirmed the capacity of women to contribute meaningfully to national culture and civic life. Through these composite narratives, Parren reframed women’s historical roles not as marginal or incidental, but as central to the ethical and cultural development of the Greek nation.

Parren was well aware of the importance of grounding her narrative depictions of historical women in credible sources to lend legitimacy to her feminist arguments. She often referenced established historical works and archives to provide factual details about the women she praised. When writing about figures from the Greek War of Independence, Parren based her narratives on widely recognized historical records but also critically noted the gaps and omissions that left women’s contributions underrepresented. She drew on traditional historical texts, such as biographies and revolutionary archives, and she supplemented them with oral traditions, folk poetry, and collective memory. In doing so, she exposed the limitations of male-dominated historiography and asserted alternative forms of historical evidence. For instance, her articles on the Souliot heroines, such as Moscho Tzavella and Despo Botsi, were based on a combination of archival and oral material, songs, ballads, and local legends, highlighting the bravery and patriotism of these women even in the absence of institutional documentation.69

Parren also romanticized certain aspects of these women’s lives, casting them as symbols of patriotism and self-sacrifice. This romanticization can be seen, for example, in her vivid account of Moscho urging women to fight alongside men. Parren uses the account to attribute military leadership and tactical initiative to female figures.70 These portrayals framed historical women as idealized figures of courage, often linked to notions of maternal sacrifice and national duty. This rhetorical strategy, while powerful in mobilizing public sentiment, risked flattening historical complexity in favor of archetypal heroism.

Parren’s articles on Despo Botsi are especially illustrative of this approach.71 Marked by dramatic language and moral exemplarity, Despo is portrayed setting fire to a tower to avoid surrender, choosing death for herself and her daughters over dishonor. While this event is grounded in collective memory, Parren’s account elevated it to a parable of moral superiority. Her narrative strategy thus reflected a dual aim: to restore women to history and to construct history as a civic lesson for contemporary readers. This tendency must be understood within the broader context of nineteenth-century Greek historiography, which was closely tied to the ideological imperatives of nation-building and historical continuity.72

One of the most distinctive features of Parren’s historical methodology was her use of mythologized accounts to support her feminist narrative. Her portrayal of the Souliot women, for example, often elevated them to near-mythical status, comparing them to the Amazons. In several articles, Parren referred to the Souliot women as Amazons, emphasizing their martial valor and willingness to die for freedom.73 These classical references served not only to ennoble the acts of these women but also to legitimize women’s civic aspirations by grounding them in timeless archetypes.

In her 1888 commemorative article on the Souliot women, Parren explicitly criticized male historians for marginalizing women’s role in the national narrative: “Those who wrote the history of modern Greece mention the heroines of 1821 only in passing, as if in a footnote, while entire volumes could be filled with the deeds of those immortal women’s patriotism and bravery.”74 Parren contrasted this omission with her own aim of documenting women’s active agency, portraying them not as passive victims but as conscious patriots. Her historical women were depicted as both nurturing and militant, guardians of the homeland and moral educators of the next generation.

She further celebrated scenes of female heroism, such as Moscho distributing cartridges “like an experienced general”75 or Despo choosing martyrdom over enslavement.76 These portrayals culminated in moral appeals to her readers: “Let modern Greek mothers remember, at least on this sacred day, how dearly those heroines paid for the freedom we later-born make such use of.” By constructing such vivid portraits, Parren redefined patriotism in gendered terms, linking women’s civic identity to their capacity for sacrifice.

Parren’s use of cultural memory is also evident in her treatment of the Dance of Zalongo. Although the historical accuracy of the Zalongo episode is no longer debated and the story is now widely recognized as a nationalist myth, Parren portrays the Dance of Zalongo as the ultimate expression of maternal self-sacrifice.77 Her invocation of Zalongo exemplifies how memory, myth, and ideology converged in her writing to shape historical consciousness.

In 1893, following the publication of the aforementioned Album of Distinguished Greek Women, Parren announced a new initiative to gather biographies from her readers.78 This participatory method reflected her belief that history was a communal undertaking, not the monopoly of elite scholars. By inviting women across Greece and the diaspora to contribute, Parren constructed a decentralized archive of memory that drew on plural voices and perspectives. This collective project challenged the exclusivity of professional historiography and positioned women not only as subjects of history but also as its authors and curators.

In conclusion, Parren’s historical writings in The Ladies’ Journal employed a multifaceted strategy that combined documented history with cultural myth, scholarly research with popular tradition, and editorial authority with participatory authorship. Her approach constituted a parallel mode of historical production, one that restored women to the national narrative while reimagining the role of history itself as a vehicle for civic pedagogy and moral uplift. Her ideological use of the past did not aim at academic neutrality but at strategic alignment with broader goals of national renewal and gendered civic engagement. This instrumental vision of history, deeply rooted in didacticism, remains a defining characteristic of her contribution to Greek public memory and cultural heritage.

Networks, Associations, and International Engagement:
Women’s Social Action and National Reform

Women’s associations in nineteenth-century Greece played a crucial role in shaping national identity and promoting women’s civic inclusion. These organizations emerged alongside the establishment of girls’ schools and women’s journals, promoting education and professional opportunities for women.79 In the nineteenth century, Greek women, especially from the middle and upper classes, sought to improve their social standing through education. Yet despite the 1834 royal decree mandating primary education for both genders, female education advanced slowly, with only a small percentage of girls and women enrolled in educational institutions, as societal views valued education as a means of upward mobility for men but confined to social consumption for women. However, women began to use education to challenge their prescribed roles, assert their societal worth, and elevate their position.80 In the 1860s, female education began to function as an increasingly important foundation for collective social reform and philanthropy in Greece, for instance through the work of influential figures like Calliopi Kehaya and Sotiria Aliberti, whose efforts transformed philanthropic activities from an elite pursuit into a collective movement among middle-class women.81 Parren built on these educational and philanthropic networks to gather collaborators for her initiatives fostering women’s associations across the country, which enabled women to engage in social and cultural issues while cultivating a shared identity of collective female action against patriarchal constraints.82

The nineteenth century also saw the emergence of transnational networks of women’s reform, with which Parren sought to align. These feminist networks were international in scope, with women across Europe and North America forming a shared ideology and communities. This facilitated the exchange of ideas and support.83 The movement’s international dimension is evident in organizations like the International Council of Women and the International Woman Suffrage Alliance.84 Although the Greek case developed within a distinct national context, Parren’s strategic participation in these forums highlights the interplay between international feminist mobilization and national reformist agendas.

The ability of certain activists to afford regular travel was crucial, since travel facilitated direct engagement with international feminist networks, allowing activists to exchange ideas, strategies, and best practices. This interaction was essential for fostering solidarity among women from diverse cultural and social backgrounds, helping to unify the movement and amplify their collective voice. Activists like Parren, who could attend international women’s congresses, were able to bring valuable insights and inspiration back to their local contexts, enriching the discourse around women’s rights in Greece. By participating in these global gatherings, she engaged with leading feminists from across Europe and the United States. Through her speeches and interactions, Parren sought to challenge prevailing stereotypes, highlighting both the historical and contemporary roles of Greek women and positioning them as dynamic contributors to both national and international feminist movements.

Through these engagements, Parren used international legitimacy to strengthen the credibility of her domestic campaigns, presenting the advancement of Greek women as aligned with European civilizational standards. Parren’s attendance at the 1889 International Congress of the Rights of Women in Paris allowed her to engage with global feminist discourse, countering Western perceptions of Greek women as oppressed “Orientales”85 and providing a platform to assert the modernity and civic potential of Greek women.86 In her speech, she highlighted the significant historical contributions of Greek women, from the ancient era to the War of Independence, celebrating their role in preserving Greek identity and patriotism.87 She emphasized the active participation of women in the War of Independence, portraying figures like Moscho and the Souliot women as embodiments of strength and sacrifice.88 Parren concluded by contrasting the bravery of these historical figures with the more conventional image of Greek women, asserting their ongoing potential for progress and education.89

At the time, public education for girls in Greece was limited to the primary level, while secondary education remained the domain of private institutions, thereby excluding most girls from lower-income families. In response to these structural inequalities, Parren used the platform of the First Congress of Women’s Works and Institutions in Paris in 1889 to announce her intention to submit a proposal to the Greek Parliament.90 Her demands included equal educational opportunities for Greek women, the establishment of girls’ schools equivalent to boys’ high schools, and the founding of a Home Economics and Vocational School in Athens to support the professional training of girls, particularly those from economically disadvantaged backgrounds.91

In 1921, Parren organized the first Panhellenic Congress of Greek Women.92. Inspired by her participation in international conferences where pressing issues such as, civil and political rights, and fair labor practices were discussed, Parren was motivated to address similar societal challenges in Greece.93 The innovative philanthropic institutions she encountered during her visit to France, particularly the agricultural schools for girls, inspired her to establish similar programs in Greece, ultimately resulting in the creation of institutions like the aforementioned “Sunday School”94 and “Asylum of Saint Catherine,” which aimed to empower Greek women through education and social welfare.95

In the journal, Parren wrote on the contrast between French and Greek women of the upper class in the nineteenth century. While both groups enjoyed the privileges afforded by their social standing, Parren argued that the French women exhibited a far deeper commitment to philanthropy and social reform.96 She highlighted the extensive network of charitable organizations established and supported by French aristocrats, who actively engaged with the needs of the less fortunate. In contrast, Parren contended that Greek women of the same class lacked a similar sense of social responsibility. She criticized their superficial engagement with philanthropy, their indifference towards their national heritage, and their preference for foreign cultures. By critiquing the Hellenic elite’s detachment, Parren called for a reinvigoration of national duty among women of privilege, emphasizing their moral obligation to serve society.

In May of 1893, Parren attended the World’s Congress of Representative Women, where she was hailed as the “Aspasia of modern Greece” and the “leading figure in the Greek women’s movement.”97 In her speeches, Parren celebrated the accomplishments of Greek women throughout history and called for global support for women’s empowerment. Through her articles in The Ladies’ Journal, she shared her admiration for American society and advocated for Greece to adopt similar progressive reforms, particularly in terms of women’s education and social roles. In another speech as a delegate to the Congress, she emphasized the role of women’s associations in Greece in addressing social issues and promoting education, for instance through initiatives like the “Sunday School” and the “Asylum of Saint Catherine.”98 Following the Congress, Parren was hosted by Lydia Avery Coonley for twelve days, allowing her to observe firsthand the social organization of the United States, characterized by progressive education for children, respect for human rights, and a strong work ethic.99 From May 30, 1893 to November 27, 1894, Parren published a travelogue titled “From Athens to Chicago: Diary of a Greek Traveler” in The Ladies’ Journal. In this, she chronicled her experiences at the Congress, where through her interactions with prominent American feminists like Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony, Parren gained valuable insights into women’s rights movements and developed a vision for a more equitable society for Greek women.100

After returning to Greece, Parren attempted to establish a national women’s association affiliated with the International Council of Women. However, she faced significant challenges. Greek society at the time was highly conservative, including its political, intellectual, and professional elites, and the broader social climate was unreceptive to organized feminist activism. Moreover, there were few women with whom Parren could collaborate or who might have supported affiliation with the more radical international feminist movement.101 It was only during the interwar period that distinct ideological currents, organizational pluralism, and sustained public discourse on women’s rights began to take shape in Greece.

Therefore, in 1896, Parren established the Union of Greek Women, which played a central role in mobilizing women during the 1897 Greco-Turkish War, with approximately 300 women actively participating in various wartime efforts, such as fundraising, caring for refugees, sewing uniforms, training nurses, and collaborating with foreign organizations.102 These efforts enabled women to broaden their social networks, develop new skills, and apply their existing knowledge in public service, while also fulfilling their patriotic duties within a national context.103

Parren utilized the 1897 Greco-Turkish War to promote women’s integration into the nation, formulating a discourse that legitimized women as active citizens.104 The Union also cooperated with international women’s organizations during the 1897 war, particularly engaging with English nurses who arrived in Greece.105 This collaboration exemplified the Union’s commitment to philhellenism, as they worked together to support wartime efforts, including the establishment of mobile hospitals and medical units. This cross-border cooperation demonstrated the global solidarity of women in support of Greece’s national cause. By linking women’s public activism to national emergencies, Parren strategically highlighted women’s indispensability to the civic body. The establishment of the Union of Greek Women not only benefited the nation but also laid the foundations for later organizations focused on charity, vocational training for working-class women, and the mobilization of middle and upper-class women in national uprisings, with the Union’s organizational structure, nationalistic language, and emphasis on the reformation of the Greek family and nation establishing it as the archetype of women’s collectivity in Greece, a model that remained influential over time.106

The activities of the Union were often framed in terms of national duty, echoing Parren’s portrayal of historical women as patriots. This rhetorical strategy enabled the association to appeal to a broad spectrum of Greek society by aligning women’s public roles with dominant nationalist ideals. While the association did not explicitly identify as feminist, its efforts to expand women’s education and professional opportunities reflect a broader agenda of women’s advancement within a national framework. The focus on education and social welfare, in particular, reflected Parren’s belief that women’s advancement was essential to the nation’s progress, first and foremost because women were viewed as the primary educators of future citizens. The argument was often advanced that mothers needed education to raise their children properly, especially their boys, who would grow up to become the nation’s soldiers and civic actors. This maternalist logic allowed for the redefinition of civic engagement in gendered terms, legitimizing women’s participation without challenging patriarchal hierarchies.

The Union’s activities influenced later women’s organizations, such as the Lyceum of Greek Women, which focused on preserving Greek cultural traditions.107 The Lyceum of Greek Women organized exhibitions and festivals that showcased women’s handicrafts and traditional dances, activities which contributed to the cultural construction of Greek national identity.108 However, in the interwar period, the Lyceum evolved into a highly conservative women’s association, promoting a vision of womanhood rooted in tradition and national folklore. This stance contrasted with the broader interwar feminist movement, which was notably diverse and dynamic, encompassing multiple organizations, journals, and ideological viewpoints that extended beyond cultural nationalism.

The historical narratives promoted by Parren in The Ladies’ Journal often paralleled her broader activism, including her efforts to establish women’s associations that advocated for improved access to education, employment, and political participation. While a direct causal link is difficult to establish, these narratives reflected and reinforced the ideological foundations of her reformist agenda. By constructing a historical lineage of female leadership and activism, Parren provided her readers and fellow activists with a sense of legitimacy and purpose. Her narrative depictions were not only about restoring memory but also about motivating contemporary women to act. By aligning modern women’s engagement with national history and public life, Parren framed their participation as both legitimate and necessary.

However, this strategy must be understood within a broader socio-political context that shifted significantly in the early twentieth century. The Asia Minor Catastrophe in 1922, followed by political upheaval and social transformation, contributed to the weakening of traditional nationalist narratives and allowed for the emergence of more pluralistic feminist currents. In the interwar years, the Greek women’s movement diversified, with the rise of multiple organizations and journals representing a range of ideological perspectives, from liberal reformism to more socially radical positions, thus complicating any singular alignment between nationalism and women’s rights advocacy.

Conclusions

The Ladies’ Journal, under the editorial vision of Kallirhoe Siganou-Parren, functioned as more than a vehicle for women’s literary expression or social commentary. It became an instrument for the construction of a “usable past” as part of efforts to assert women’s rights and women’s value in the civic sphere.109 Through carefully curated narratives of historical episodes and figures, the journal sought to reinscribe women into the national narrative by commemorating select female figures, heroines, intellectuals, empresses, and philanthropists as paragons of patriotic virtue, moral leadership, and maternal sacrifice. These portrayals legitimized women’s claims to civic participation and anchored their public visibility within essentialist and nationalist frameworks.

This selective historicization was not ideologically neutral. It validated certain forms of female agency, namely, those aligned with domestic virtue, philanthropy, cultural refinement, and national service, while excluding others, particularly women from working-class, rural, or marginalized backgrounds whose experiences did not conform to the moral and social expectations of the urban bourgeoisie. In this sense, The Ladies’ Journal articulated a vision of gendered citizenship that was simultaneously empowering and constraining. Women were invited to see themselves as heirs to a noble lineage of civic motherhood and patriotic self-sacrifice but only insofar as their aspirations aligned with the class-bound and ideologically acceptable norms of respectable femininity.

Parren’s historical project thus reveals the ambivalence of early feminist interventions in public memory. On the one hand, it offered an important corrective to the symbolic omission of women from the official historiography, affirming that women had always contributed to national life. On the other, it deployed history as a tool of cultural regulation, shaping the terms according to which women could be remembered and by extension, could act. Discourse analysis reveals that historical women were often described through dichotomies, for instance courageous yet tender, strong yet modest, influential yet invisible, reflecting an effort to reconcile agency with notions of proper femininity. These rhetorical choices legitimized women’s civic engagement while preserving normative ideals of womanhood rooted in morality, domesticity, and patriotic service. The “usable past” constructed in The Ladies’ Journal was thus not only inspirational but disciplinary, encoding gendered expectations even as it advocated reform.

Parren’s historiography was activist in the sense that it challenged gendered omissions and erasures, inserted women into the symbolic fabric of the nation, and mobilized the past to inspire civic engagement. Yet it also reinscribed boundaries, excluded subaltern voices, and reinforced class hierarchies. This duality complicates the legacy of The Ladies’ Journal and calls for a more layered understanding of what constitutes feminist cultural activism in contexts marked by nationalism, respectability politics, and ideological constraint.

Crucially, Parren’s historiographical strategy blurred the boundaries between journalism, biography, myth, and civic pedagogy. It embraced a hybrid mode of popular historiography that democratized historical knowledge while maintaining a gatekeeping function over who and what could be commemorated. This approach prefigured later debates in feminist historiography over the politics of recovery and the risks of idealization. By foregrounding moral exemplarity and national service as the criteria for historical inclusion, Parren constructed a narrative that inspired collective identity but limited its transformative potential. Parren’s work demonstrates that the past is never only remembered. It is actively shaped, filtered, and instrumentalized in response to the needs of the present. Parren’s vision of women’s history was a pioneering act of cultural production, but also one shaped by the ideological contours of its time. The challenge for contemporary scholarship lies in recognizing both its contributions and its exclusions and in interrogating how the construction of a “usable past” continues to influence debates over gender, memory, and civic belonging.

Bibliography

Journal articles

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Alexandridou, Maria A. [Αλεξανδρίδου, Μαρία Α.]. “Μαρία Γ. Υψηλάντου Β΄” [Maria G. Ypsilantou B]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], March 6, 1894.

Alimperti, Sotiria [Αλιμπέρτη, Σωτηρία]. “Κυριακούλα Α. Κριεζή Α΄” [Kyriakoula A. Kriezi A]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], March 13, 1894.

Alimperti, Sotiria [Αλιμπέρτη, Σωτηρία]. “Κυριακούλα Α. Κριεζή Β΄” [Kyriakoula A. Kriezi B]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], March 20, 1894.

Alimperti, Sotiria [Αλιμπέρτη, Σωτηρία]. “Μαργαρίτα Αλβάνα Μηνιάτη. [Margarita Alvana Miniati]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], April 9, 1895.

Alimperti, Sotiria [Αλιμπέρτη, Σωτηρία]. “Μαρία Πετρεττίνη” [Maria Petrettini]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], March 13, 1895.

Alimperti, Sotiria [Αλιμπέρτη, Σωτηρία]. “Φωτεινή Μαυρομιχάλη Α΄” [Foteini Mavromichali A]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], February 13, 1894.

Alimperti, Sotiria [Αλιμπέρτη, Σωτηρία]. “Φωτεινή Μαυρομιχάλη Β΄” [Foteini Mavromichali B.]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], February 20, 1894.

Brooks, Van Wyck. “On Creating a Usable Past.” The Dial, April 11, (1918): 337–41.

Georgiadou, Eleni [Γεωργιάδου, Ελένη]. “Η χειραφέτησις των γυναικών κατά τον μεσαίωνα” [The emancipation of women during the Middle Ages]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], January 31, 1893.

Iliopoulou, Marianthi [Ηλιοπούλου, Μαριάνθη]. “Ασπασία” [Aspasia]. Efimeris ton Kyrion [The Ladies’ Journal], May 3, 1887.

Mavrogordatou, Maria [Μαυρογορδάτου, Μαρία]. “Σαπφώ” [Sappho]. Efimeris ton Kyrion [The Ladies’ Journal], August 21, 1888.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Άγνωστοι Ηρωίδες του ‘21: Σταυριάνα, Μοδένα και Μεσολογγίτιδες” [Unknown Heroines of 1821: Stavriana, Modena, and the women of Missolonghi]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], March 25, 1890.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Αι αρχόντισαι του Βυζαντίου” [The Ladies of Byzantium]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], March 28, 1904.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Αι αυτοκράτειραι του Βυζαντίου: Α΄” [The empresses of Byzantium: A]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], March 20, 1905.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Αι αυτοκράτειραι του Βυζαντίου: Αθηναΐς και Πουλχερία” [The empresses of Byzantium: Athenais and Pulcheria]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], March 26, 1905.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Αι αυτοκράτειραι του Βυζαντίου: Γ΄” [The empresses of Byzantium: C]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], April 3, 1905.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Αι αυτοκράτειραι του Βυζαντίου: Η Ειρήνη” [The empresses of Byzantium: Irene]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], May 22, 1903.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Αι αυτοκράτειραι του Βυζαντίου: Η Ειρήνη” [“The empresses of Byzantium: Irene]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], May 8, 1905.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Αι αυτοκράτειραι του Βυζαντίου: Η Θεοδώρα: Α” [The empresses of Byzantium: Theodora: A]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], May 5, 1905.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Αι αυτοκράτειραι του Βυζαντίου: Η Θεοδώρα: Β” [The empresses of Byzantium: Theodora: B]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], April 24, 1905.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Αι αυτοκράτειραι του Βυζαντίου: Η Θεοδώρα: Γ” [The empresses of Byzantium: Theodora: C]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], May 1, 1905.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Αι Ηρωίδες Μητέρες” [The heroic mothers]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], March 19, 1900.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Αι Παρισιναί αριστοκράτιδες και αι ιδικαί μας” [The Parisian aristocrats and our own]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], August 13, 1889.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Αι Σουλιώτιδες εις το Κιούγκι” [The Souliote women at Koungi]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], October 15, 1912.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Δέσπω Μπότση” [Despo Botsi]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], February 5, 1895.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Εκ Σικάγου” [From Chicago]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], June 13, 1893.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Έκτον Έτος” [Sixth year]. Efimeris ton Kyrion [The Ladies’ Journal], March 8, 1892.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Ελένη Βάσσου” [Eleni Vassou]. Efimeris ton Kyrion [The Ladies’ Journal], March 21, 1893.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Η Ασπασία” [Aspasia]. Efimeris ton Kyrion [The Ladies’ Journal], June 15, 1910.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Η Εικοστή Πέμπτη Μαρτίου – Αι Σουλιώτιδες γυναίκες” [The twenty-fifth of March – The Souliote women]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], March 27, 1888.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Η ελληνίς γυνή του 19ου αιώνος, εν τη Φιλολογία εν τη ιστορία και τη φιλανθρωπία: (Λόγος απαγγελθείς υπό της κ. Καλλιρρόης Παρρέν εις το εν Παρισίοις Διεθνές Συνέδριον των γυναικείων Εργων και ιδρυμάτων, αντεπόκρισις εκ Παρισίων)” [The Greek woman of the 19th century in literature, history, and philanthropy: Speech delivered by Mrs. Kallirhoe Parren at the International Congress of Women’s Works and Institutions in Paris, Report from Paris]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], July 16, 1889.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Η σχολή της Κυριακής” [The Sunday school]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], October 18, 1889.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Η Χάιδω” [Haido]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], February 19, 1895.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Ιστορία της γυναικός: Σύγχροναι Ελληνίδες” [History of women: Contemporary Greek women]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], November 3, 1896.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Και πάλιν η Σαπφώ” [Sappho again]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], January 15–31, 1912.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Καλλιόπη Παπαλεξοπούλου” [Kalliopi Papalexopoulou]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], September 9, 1898.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Λασκαρίνα Μπουμπουλίνα” [Laskarina Bouboulina]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], March 29, 1887.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Λεύκωμα Εξόχων Ελληνίδων” [Album of Distinguished Greek Women]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], January 10, 1893.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Μαργιώρα Ν. Μαυρογένους: Το γένος Σκαναυή: A΄” [Margiora N. Mavrogenous: The Skanavi Lineage: A]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], March 19, 1895.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Μαργιώρα Ν. Μαυρογένους: Το γένος Σκαναυή: Β΄” [Margiora N. Mavrogenous: The Skanavi Lineage: B]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], March 26, 1895.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Μόσχω Τζαβέλλα” [Moscho Tzavella]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], March 27, 1894.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Νέαι Γιγαντομάχοι” [New Gigantomachoi]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], October 1–15, 1913.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Σαπφώ η Λεσβία και η φεμινιστική κίνησις εις τας Αθήνας κατά τον Δ΄ προ Χριστού αιώνα” [Sappho of Lesbos and the feminist movement in Athens in the 4th century BCE]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], January 1–15, 1912.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Τα εν Ελλάδι σωματεία και η εν γένει γυναίκεια δράσις” [The Greek associations and general women’s activities]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], June 13, 1893.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Τι αναγιγνώσκομεν αι Ελληνίδες” [What we Greek women read]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], December 17, 1889.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Τι ιδέαν είχον οι ξέναι περί των Ελληνίδων” [What foreign women thought of Greek women]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], July 30, 1889.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Το γυναικείον ζήτημα: Αι Σπαρτιάτιδαι και αι Αθηναίαι: Ε΄” [The woman question: The Spartan and the Athenian women: E]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], January 14, 1901.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Το Νέον Συμβόλαιον” [The new covenant]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], April 20, 1912.

Parren, Kallirhoe [Παρρέν, Καλλιρόη]. “Φωτεινή Γενναίου Κολοκοτρώνη” [Foteini Gennaou Kolokotroni]. Εφημερίς των Κυριών [The Ladies’ Journal], October 7, 1890.

Secondary literature

Anastasopoulou, Maria [Αναστασοπούλου, Μαρία]. Η συνετή απόστολος της γυναικείας χειραφεσίας: Καλλιρρόη Παρρέν: Η Ζωή και το Έργο [The prudent apostle of women’s emancipation: Kalliroi Parren, her life and work]. Athens: Iliodromion, 2003.

Anastasopoulou, Maria. “Feminist Discourse and Literary Representation in Turn-of-the-Century Greece: Kallirrhoe Siganou-Parren’s ‘The Books of Dawn.’” Journal of Modern Greek Studies 15, no. 1 (1997): 1–28. doi: 10.1353/mgs.1997.0005

Avdela, Efi [Αβδελά, Έφη], ed. Το Λύκειο των Ελληνίδων: 100 χρόνια [The Lyceum of Greek Women: 100 Years]. Athens: Piraeus Bank Group Cultural Foundation, 2010.

Avdela, Efi [Αβδελά, Έφη]. “Η «ιστορία των γυναικών» στην Ελλάδα” [The “History of Women” in Greece]. Synchrona Themata: Trimester Journal of Scientific Reflection and Education 11, no. 35–36–37 (1988): 171–73.

Avdela, Efi and Angelika Psarra. “Engendering ‘Greekness’: Women’s Emancipation and Irredentist Politics in Nineteenth-Century Greece.” Mediterranean Historical Review 20, no. 1 (2005): 67–79. doi: 10.1080/09518960500204665

Avdela, Efi. “Between Duties and Rights: Gender and Citizenship in Greece, 1864–1952.” In Citizenship and the Nation-State in Greece and Turkey, edited by Faruk Birtek and Thalia Dragonas, 117–43. London: Routledge, 2005.

Bounia, Alexandra. “Exhibiting Women’s Handicrafts: Arts and Crafts Exhibitions in Greece at the Dawn of the Twentieth Century.” Gender & History 26, no. 2 (2014): 287–312. doi: 10.1111/1468-0424.12070

Coavoux, Sophie. “Women Authors and the Writing of History in Nineteenth-century Greece.” Clio: Women, Gender, History 1, no. 49 (2019): 221–38.

Des Jardins, Julie. “Women’s and Gender History.” In The Oxford History of Historical Writing: 1945 to the present, edited by Alex Schneider and Daniel Woolf, 136–56. New York: Oxford University Press, 2011.

Foukas, Vasilis. “Women Teachers’ Education in Greece, Bulgaria and Turkey during the 19th Century: Parallel Paths and Interactions.” İmgelem 7, no. 13 (2023): 651–68. doi: 10.53791/imgelem.1378171

Gazi, Effie. “Scientific” National History: The Greek Case in Comparative Perspective (1850–1920). Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2000.

Giannati, Evdokia [Γιαννάτη, Ευδοκία]. “Εφημερίς των Κυριών (1887–1917): Αναπαραστάσεις και Επαναπροσδιορισμοί Γυναικείων Ταυτοτήτων στον Ιδιωτικό και Δημόσιο Χώρο: Απόψεις Διδασκαλισσών για τη Γυναικεία Εργασία” [The Ladies’ Journal, 1887–1917. Representations and redefinitions of women’s identities in the private and public sphere: Female teachers’ views on women’s labor]. PhD diss., Aristotle University of Thessaloniki, 2020.

Giannati, Evdokia [Γιαννάτη, Ευδοκία]. “Εφημερίς των Κυριών (1887–1917): Όψεις και Διαπραγματεύσεις της Γυναικείας Ταυτότητας” [The Ladies’ Journal, 1887–1917: Aspects and negotiations of female identity]. Master’s thesis, Aristotle University of Thessaloniki, 2010.

Ignatiadou, Evangelia [Ιγνατιάδου, Ευαγγελία]. “Ο Φεμινισμός της Καλλιρρόης Παρρέν και η Εφημερίς των Κυριών στο πολιτικό και ιστορικό πλαίσιο της εποχής” [The feminism of Kalliroi Parren and The Ladies’ Journal in the political and historical context of the era]. Master’s thesis, University of the Peloponnese, 2020.

Kanner, Efi. Έμφυλες κοινωνικές διεκδικήσεις από την Οθωμανική Αυτοκρατορία στην Ελλάδα και στην Τουρκία: Ο κόσμος μίας ελληνίδας χριστιανής δασκάλας [Gendered social revendications from the Ottoman Empire to Greece and Turkey: The world of a Greek Christian teacher]. Athens: Papazissis, 2012.

Lalagianni, Vassiliki. “Conscience Féministe et Identité Nationale: Femmes Écrivains en Grèce au Tournant du Siècle.” In Multiculturalisme ET Identité en Littérature ET en Art, edited by Jean Bessier and Sylvie André, 285–93. Paris: Harmattan/Association Internationale de Littérature Comparée, 2002.

Lalagianni, Vassiliki. “Les Origines du Discours Féministe en Grèce: L’Emancipée de Kallirrhoe Parren.” In Femmes Écrivains en Méditerranée, edited by Vassiliki Lalagianni, 62–79. Paris: Publisud, 1999.

Livaditi, Ioulia. “Initiatives on Gender History in Greece.” Greek News Agenda, October 19, 2022. Accessed September 12, 2023. https://www.greeknewsagenda.gr/initiatives-on-gender-history-in-greece

McFadden, Margaret H. Golden Cables of Sympathy: The Transatlantic Sources of Nineteenth-Century Feminism. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1999.

Papadogiannis, Nikolaos. “Gender in modern Greek historiography.” Historein 16, no. 1–2 (2017): 74–101. doi: 10.12681/historein.8876

Plantzos, Dimitris. “Time and the Antique: Linear Causality and the Greek Art Narrative.” Μουσείο Μπενάκη (2008): 253–72. doi: 10.12681/benaki.18041.

Poulos, Margaret. Arms and the Woman: Just Warriors and Greek Feminist Identity. New York: Columbia University Press, 2014.

Psarra, Angelika [Ψαρρά, Αγγέλικα]. “Μητέρα ή πολίτις; έλληνικές εκδοχές της γυναικείας χειραφέτησης (1870–1920)” [Mother or female citizen? Greek versions of women’s emancipation (1870–1920)]. In Το φύλο των δικαιωμάτων: εξουσία, γυναίκες και ιδιότητα του πολίτη [The gender of rights: Power, women, and citizenship], edited by Rania Oikonomou, 90–107. Athens: Nefeli, 1999.

Psarra, Angelika [Ψαρρά, Αγγέλικα]. “Ο χορός του Ζαλόγγου: ένας χορός για γυναικεία βήματα” [The dance of Zalongo: A dance for women’s steps]. Avgi [Dawn], March 25, 2012. Accessed September 12, 2023. https://www.avgi.gr/arheio/22915_o-horos-toy-zaloggoy-enas-horos-gia-gynaikeia-bimata

Psarra, Angelika [Ψαρρά, Αγγέλικα]. “Το μυθιστόρημα της χειραφέτησης ή Η ‘συνετή’ ουτοπία της Καλλιρρόης Παρρέν” [The Novel of Emancipation or the ‘Prudent’ Utopia of Kallirhoe Parren]. Postface to Η Χειραφετημένη [The emancipated woman], by Kallirhoe Parren. Athens: Ekati, 1999 [originally published 1900].

Psarra, Angelika and Eleni Fournaraki. “Callirhoe Parren.” In A Biographical Dictionary of Women’s Movements and Feminisms: Central, Eastern, and South Eastern Europe, 19th and 20th Centuries, edited by Francisca de Haan, Krassimira Daskalova and Anna Loutfi, 402-7. Budapest, Hungary: Central European University Press, 2006. https://doi.org/10.1515/9786155053726-102

Psarra, Angelika. “A Gift from the New World: Greek Feminists between East and West (1880–1930).” In Ways to Modernity in Greece and Turkey: Encounters with Europe, edited by Caglar Keyden and Anna Frangoudaki, 150–75. London: I.B. Tauris, 2007.

Psarra, Angelika. “Few Women Have History: Callirhoe Parren and the Beginnings of Women’s History in Greece.” Translated by Martha Michailidou. Gender and History 18, no. 2 (2006): 400–11. doi: 10.1111/j.1468-0424.2006.00435.x

Samiou, Dimitra [Σαμίου, Δήμητρα]. “Τα πολιτικά δικαιώματα των Ελληνίδων (1864–1917)” [The political rights of Greek women, 1864–1917]. Mnimon, 12 (1989): 161–72. doi: 10.12681/mnimon.411

Sneider, Allison L. “The New Suffrage History: Voting Rights in International Perspective.” History Compass 8, no. 7 (2010): 692–703. doi: 10.1111/j.1478-0542.2010.00689.x

Varika, Eleni [Βαρίκα, Ελένη]. “Μια δημοσιογραφία στην υπηρεσία της γυναικείας φυλής” [A journalism in the service of the female race]. Diavazo, no. 198 (1988): 6–12.

Varika, Eleni [Βαρίκα, Ελένη]. Η Εξέγερση των Κυριών: Η Γέννηση μιας Φεμινιστικής Συνείδησης στην Ελλάδα, 1833–1907 [The Ladies’ revolt: The birth of a feminist consciousness in Greece, 1833–1907]. Athens: Papazisis, 2011.

Varika, Eleni. “Subjectivité et identité de genre: L’ univers de l’éducation féminine dans la Grèce du XIXe siècle.” Genèses: Sciences sociales et histoire, no. 6 (1991): 29–51.

Varika, Eleni. “La révolte des dames: Genèse d’une conscience féministe dans la Grèce au XIXème siècle (1833–1908).” PhD thesis, Université de Paris, 1986.

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1. 1 Avdela and Psarra, “Engendering ‘Greekness’,” 69–79.

2. 2 While the terms feminism and activism are used throughout this article, they are understood in their historically specific context. During the period under discussion, these concepts were not fully developed or uniformly applied. Parren herself rarely used the term feminist before the twentieth century, and her reformist vision was often framed in terms of civic motherhood, philanthropy, and moral uplift rather than explicit political rights. Therefore, the use of these terms in this article denotes emerging discourses of women’s public engagement, rather than fully formed political ideologies.

3. 3 See e.g. Varika, “La révolte des dames”; Psarra, “Few Women Have History.”

4. 4 See Giannati, “Εφημερίς των Κυριών (1887–1917): Αναπαραστάσεις και Επαναπροσδιορισμοί,” 35, citing Psarra, “Το μυθιστόρημα της χειραφέτησης ή η ‘συνετή’ ουτοπία της Καλλιρρόης Παρρέν,” and eadem, “Μητέρα ή πολίτις.”

5. 5 Ibid.

6. 6 Varika, “Μια δημοσιογραφία στην υπηρεσία της γυναικείας φυλής,” 6–7.

7. 7 Varika, “La révolte des dames.”

8. 8 Avdela and Psarra, “Engendering ‘Greekness’,” 70.

9. 9 Varika, “La révolte des dames.”

10. 10 Papadogiannis, “Gender in modern Greek historiography,” 81.

11. 11 Des Jardins, “Women’s and Gender History,” 138.

12. 12 Poulos, Arms and the Woman, 19–48.

13. 13 Ibid.

14. 14 Psarra, “A Gift from the New World,” 151–52.

15. 15 Ibid.

16. 16 Psarra, “Few Women Have History.”

17. 17 For more on feminist discourse and national identity in Greece during late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries see Lalagianni, “Conscience Féministe et Identité Nationale”; Lalagianni, “Les Origines du Discours Féministe en Grèce”; Anastasopoulou, “Feminist Discourse and Literary Representation.”

18. 18 Psarra, “A Gift from the New World,” 151.

19. 19 Psarra, “Μητέρα ή πολίτις;.”

20. 20 Ibid.

21. 21 Samiou, “Τα πολιτικά δικαιώματα των Ελληνίδων,” 167.

22. 22 Avdela, “Η «ιστορία των γυναικών» στην Ελλάδα,” 171–73.

23. 23 Ibid.

24. 24 Livaditi, “Initiatives on Gender History in Greece.”

25. 25 Ibid.

26. 26 Giannati, “Εφημερίς των Κυριών (1887–1917): Αναπαραστάσεις και Επαναπροσδιορισμοί,” 30–31; Varika, “Μια δημοσιογραφία στην υπηρεσία της γυναικείας φυλής,” 8.

27. 27 Poulos, Arms and the Woman, 19–48.

28. 28 Giannati, “Εφημερίς των Κυριών (1887–1917): Αναπαραστάσεις και Επαναπροσδιορισμοί,” 32.

29. 29 Varika, Η εξέγερση των Κυριών, 279–88.

30. 30 For more on Kallirhoe Parren’s life and work see Psarra and Fournaraki “Callirhoe Parren”; Anastasopoulou, Η συνετή απόστολος της γυναικείας χειραφεσίας.

31. 31 Ibid.

32. 32 Avdela, “Between Duties and Rights,” 122–23.

33. 33 Giannati, “Εφημερίς των Κυριών (1887–1917): Αναπαραστάσεις και Επαναπροσδιορισμοί,” 39–42.

34. 34 Ibid.

35. 35 Avdela, Το Λύκειο των Ελληνίδων: 100 χρόνια.

36. 36 Psarra, “Μητέρα ή πολίτις.”

37. 37 Poulos, Arms and the Woman, 19–48.

38. 38 Ibid.

39. 39 Psarra, “Ο χορός του Ζαλόγγου”; Psarra, “Few Women Have History.”

40. 40 Parren, “Άγνωστοι Ηρωίδες του 21: Σταυριάνα, Μοδένα και Μεσολογγίτιδες”; Parren, “Λασκαρίνα Μπουμπουλίνα”; Parren, “Μαργιώρα Ν. Μαυρογένους. Α΄”; Parren, “Μαργιώρα Ν. Μαυρογένους B΄.”

41. 41 Parren, “Αι Σουλιώτιδες εις το Κιούγκι.”

42. 42 Parren, “Η Εικοστή Πέμπτη Μαρτίου – Αι Σουλιώτιδες γυναίκες.”

43. 43 Parren, “Μόσχω Τζαβέλλα.”; Parren, “Η Εικοστή Πέμπτη Μαρτίου – Αι Σουλιώτιδες γυναίκες.”

44. 44 Parren, “Δέσπω Μπότση.”

45. 45 Parren, “Η Χάιδω.”

46. 46 Giannati, “Εφημερίς των Κυριών (1887–1917): Όψεις και Διαπραγματεύσεις της Γυναικείας Ταυτότητας,” 151–52.

47. 47 Parren, “Η Εικοστή Πέμπτη Μαρτίου – Αι Σουλιώτιδες γυναίκες.”

48. 48 Parren, “Αι Ηρωίδες Μητέρες.”

49. 49 Parren, “Λεύκωµα Εξόχων Ελληνίδων.”

50. 50 Ibid.

51. 51 For more on Sotiria Alimperti, see Kanner, Έμφυλες κοινωνικές διεκδικήσεις από την Οθωμανική Αυτοκρατορία στην Ελλάδα και στην Τουρκία.

52. 52 Giannati, “Εφημερίς των Κυριών (1887–1917): Όψεις και Διαπραγματεύσεις της Γυναικείας Ταυτότητας,” 153. E.g. see Alimperti, “Φωτεινή Μαυροµιχάλη Α΄”; Αλιµπ+έρτη, “Φωτεινή Μαυροµιχάλη Β΄”; Alimperti, “Κυριακούλα Α. Κριεζή Α΄”; Alimperti, “Κυριακούλα Α. Κριεζή Β΄”; Alimperti, “Μαργαρίτα Αλβάνα Μηνιάτη”; Alimperti, “Μαρία Πετρεττίνη”; Alexandridou, “Μαρία Γ. Υψηλάντου Α΄”; Alexandridou, “Μαρία Γ. Υψηλάντου Β΄”; Parren, “Ελένη Βάσσου”; Parren, “Φωτεινή Γενναίου Κολοκοτρώνη”; Parren, “Καλλιόπη Παπαλεξοπούλου.”

53. 53 Alimperti, “Κυριακούλα Α. Κριεζή Α΄”; Alimperti, “Μαρία Πετρεττίνη”; Alimperti, “Κυριακούλα Α. Κριεζή Β΄.”

54. 54 Parren, “Σαπφώ η Λεσβία”; Parren, “Και πάλιν η Σαπφώ”; Mavrogordatou, “Σαπφώ.”

55. 55 Parren, “Και πάλιν η Σαπφώ.”

56. 56 Ibid.

57. 57 Psarra, “Μητέρα ή πολίτις.”

58. 58 Parren, “Η Ασπασία”; Iliopoulou, “Ασπασία.”

59. 59 Parren, “Η Ασπασία.”

60. 60 Parren, “Αι αυτοκράτειραι του Βυζαντίου: Η Ειρήνη”; Parren, “Αι αυτοκράτειραι του Βυζαντίου: Η Θεοδώρα: Α”; Parren, “Αι αυτοκράτειραι του Βυζαντίου: Η Θεοδώρα: Β”; Parren, “Αι αυτοκράτειραι του Βυζαντίου: Η Θεοδώρα: Γ”; Parren, “Αι αυτοκράτειραι του Βυζαντίου: Γ”; Parren, “Αι αυτοκράτειραι του Βυζαντίου: Αθηναϊς και Πουλχερία”; Parren, “Αι αυτοκράτειραι του Βυζαντίου: Α”; Parren, “Αι αρχόντισαι του Βυζαντίου.”

61. 61 Georgiadou, “Η χειραφέτησις των γυναικών κατά τον μεσαίωνα.”

62. 62 Parren, “Λασκαρίνα Μπουμπουλίνα.”

63. 63 Psarra, “Few Women Have History”; Varika, Η Εξέγερση των Κυριών.

64. 64 Parren, “Έκτον Έτος.”

65. 65 Coavoux, “Women authors and the writing of history in nineteenth-century Greece,” 226–27.

66. 66 Ibid.

67. 67 Parren. “Τι αναγιγνώσκομεν αι Ελληνίδες.”

68. 68 Ibid.

69. 69 Parren, “Μόσχω Τζαβέλλα”; Parren, “Δέσπω Μπότση.”

70. 70 Ibid. Parren, “Η Χάιδω”; Parren, “Αι Ηρωίδες Μητέρες”; Parren, “Αι Σουλιώτιδες εις το Κιούγκι”; Parren, “Η Εικοστή Πέμπτη Μαρτίου – Αι Σουλιώτιδες γυναίκες.”

71. 71 Parren, “Δέσπω Μπότση.”

72. 72 Plantzos, “Time and the Antique”; Gazi, “Scientific” National History.

73. 73 Parren, “Η Εικοστή Πέμπτη Μαρτίου – Αι Σουλιώτιδες γυναίκες.”

74. 74 Parren, “Η Εικοστή Πέμπτη Μαρτίου – Αι Σουλιώτιδες γυναίκες.”

75. 75 Ibid.

76. 76 Ibid.

77. 77 Psarra, “Ο χορός του Ζαλόγγου.”

78. 78 Parren, “Λεύκωµα Εξόχων Ελληνίδων.”

79. 79 Foukas, “Women teachers’ education.”

80. 80 Varika, “Subjectivité et identité de genre,” 32–35.

81. 81 Ibid., 49–50.

82. 82 Ibid.

83. 83 McFadden, Golden Cables of Sympathy.

84. 84 Sneider, “The New Suffrage History.”

85. 85 Parren, “Τι ιδέαν είχον οι ξέναι περί των Ελληνίδων.”

86. 86 Poulos, Arms and the Woman, 19–48.

87. 87 Parren, “Η ελληνίς γυνή του 19ου αιώνος.”

88. 88 Ibid.

89. 89 Ibid.

90. 90 Parren, “Η ελληνίς γυνή του 19ου αιώνος.”; Ignatiadou, “Ο Φεμινισμός της Καλλιρρόης Parren,” 23.

91. 91 Ibid.

92. 92 Anastasopoulou, Η συνετή απόστολος της γυναικείας χειραφεσίας, 260–62.

93. 93 Ignatiadou, “Ο Φεμινισμός της Καλλιρρόης Parren,” 24.

94. 94 Parren, “Η σχολή της Κυριακής.”

95. 95 Ibid.

96. 96 Parren, “Αι Παρισιναί αριστοκράτιδες.”

97. 97 Parren, “Εκ Σικάγου.”

98. 98 Parren, “Τα εν Ελλάδι σωματεία.”

99. 99 Anastasopoulou, Η συνετή απόστολος της γυναικείας χειραφεσίας, 180–83; Ignatiadou, “Ο Φεμινισμός της Καλλιρρόης Parren,” 25.

100. 100 Ignatiadou, “Ο Φεμινισμός της Καλλιρρόης Parren,” 25.

101. 101 Ibid, 26.

102. 102 Avdela and Psarra, “Engendering ‘Greekness’,” 71.

103. 103 Ibid.

104. 104 Ibid.

105. 105 Ibid.

106. 106 Ibid, 72.

107. 107 Avdela, Το Λύκειο των Ελληνίδων: 100 χρόνια.

108. 108 Ibid; Bounia, “Exhibiting Women’s Handicrafts.”

109. 109 Brooks, “On Creating a Usable Past.”

International Networks of Women’s Activism and Mobility in
East Central Europe and
South Eastern Europe, 1848–1945

Dóra Fedeles-Czeferner

ELTE Research Centre for the Humanities

This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. 

Hungarian Historical Review Volume 14 Issue 3 (2025): 311-316 DOI 10.38145/2025.3.311

Until the new millennium, historical scholarship focused primarily on women and women’s movements within national frameworks. Even in 2017, Francisca de Haan argued that “many feminist historians today continue to work within the national paradigm.”1 As she observed in 2013, however, historians have started to explore inter/transnational dimensions of the history of feminism and women’s movements, due in no small part to the rise of post-colonial and transnational perspectives in historiography since the 1980s and 1990s.2 A growing number of scholars agree with her entirely on the necessity of the inter/transnational perspectives, as feminism and women’s movements did not operate in isolation within national borders. What is indisputable is that women’s history and gender studies have undoubtedly become one of the fastest growing domains of contemporary cultural and social research, especially in Western Europe and in North America.

From the beginning of the nineteenth century, more and more transnational links were formed between individual women and different types of women’s associations.3 As Francisca de Haan again observes, the inter/transnational dimensions of the women’s movements were of key importance since this time. This internationalization can be explained partly with the congresses and other formal and informal meetings of transnational women’s associations, such as the International Council of Women (1888–, Washington, D.C.), the International Woman Suffrage Alliance (1904–, Berlin, since 1926 the International Alliance of Women), and the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom (1915–, The Hague). These meetings provided not only information but also inspiration and support for the national women’s associations that took part.4

Leila J. Rupp asks the following questions in her 2010 paper, in which she examines the construction of the aforementioned international organizations and seeks the prospects and limits of internationalism: “What drew women together across the borders of nationality? Who fell within the circle of we? What did it mean to profess ties across national, ethnic, and other identities?”5 As de Haan notes, membership in this kind of international community gave activists self-assurance in their attempts to face challenges in their own countries, and it also created conditions within which it was possible for them to take their cases to international forums, as is made plainly evidence in the articles in this special issue. This way of thinking is also mirrored in the structure of the international organizations, as each had national organizations with additional local auxiliaries. In this context, de Haan also points out that these “national building blocks […] may even have strengthened the nationalization of women’s movements by encouraging women to form national organizations.”6

This special issue aims to explore women’s activism in East Central Europe (along with the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy and its successor states) and South Eastern Europe between 1848 and 1990. It investigates the history and
(inter)national networks of contacts of these regions’ women’s associations and studies the activism of their leaders through the second half of the nineteenth century until the end of the 1940s and over the rise and fall of various political regimes. The contributions transgress state borders which historically separated different activists and activisms. They adopt an interdisciplinary approach, examining the relationships among the local, national, and transnational/international dynamics of women’s activism.

Many people inaccurately still believe that feminism never existed in East Central Europe or South Eastern Europe. Consequently, a large part of writings on women’s movements and feminism focus only on the period after 1989 without examining their roots at the turn of the twentieth century. In a 2008 article, de Haan examined the historical and political factors that might explain why the study of women’s history, particularly the history of women’s movements, has been underdeveloped in this region of Europe. She also elaborated on the negative effects of this lack of attention and proposed ways to remedy the situation. Her central point was that a “lack of knowledge about past women’s movements and feminists cannot inspire and empower contemporary women and men; the complete misconception and caricatures of past and present feminists in the media and in popular discourse cannot be effectively challenged, which in turn means that these caricatures continue to be effective weapons against contemporary feminists.”7

To this day, very few sustained efforts have been made to address this lacuna in the secondary literature. The 2006 project at the CEU Gender Studies Department is unique. As a result of this project, a lexicon was published that included biographies of 150 women activists from 22 countries. The articles included sources and bibliographies. At the time of its publication, its editors were motivated by books appearing in the early 2000s the titles of which had promised overviews of the history of European women but which in point of fact passed over the Central and Eastern Europe (almost) entirely.8 The next groundbreaking volume was published at the end of 2024. It was edited by Zsófia Lóránd, Adela Hîncu, Jovana Mihajlović Trbovc, and Katarzyna Stańczak-Wiślicz. This volume contains 100 sources, which are preceded by an introduction and short biographies of the authors of these writings. It also offers a selection of the most representative texts on feminism and women’s rights in East Central Europe during the interwar period and the Cold War era.9 Thirdly, Aspasia, one of the most significant peer-reviewed journal in this field since 2007, focuses on the women’s and gender history of Central, Eastern, and South Eastern Europe. Over the course of the roughly two decades that have elapsed since its founding, it has served as a crucial platform for scholars from this region to share their work, offering discussions of diverse topics, historical periods, methodologies, and approaches. These very important initiatives are clearly not enough, however, to compensate for the persistent gaps in the secondary literature on the subject in this region. This special issue makes a significant contribution and helps to fill these gaps.

The first contribution, “Women’s History in Greece through The Ladies’ Journal of Kallirhoe Siganou-Parren: Class, National Identity, and Reformist Activism in the Formation of Women’s Associations (1887–1917)” by Marina Bantiou, analyzes how a Greek journal cultivated a gendered historical consciousness. By giving attention and discursive space to historical female figures, the journal sought to legitimize women’s public roles within the framework of patriotic maternalism. This clearly demonstrates how activism can be rooted in nationalist ideology while also reflecting transnational influences. The second article, “Austro-Hungarian Women’s Activism from the Southern ‘Periphery’ Across Ethnic Lines” by Agatha Schwartz, examines the complex local, regional, and trans-regional aspects of women’s organizing in the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy. Through the lives of four activists from different ethnic groups, it demonstrates how women’s public work contributed to the improvement of their status, even when they were not directly involved in the struggle for political rights.

In the third article, “Phantom Borders and Nostalgia: German Women’s Associations in the Second Polish Republic after 1918,” Paula Lange explores German women’s associations in the Second Polish Republic. Lange reveals how these groups, which had become part of a national minority, adapted to new political realities, showing how women’s activities occurred in ever-changing social and imagined spaces. The contribution by Zsuzsa Bokor, titled “Adrift on the Periphery: The Alternative Development of Hungarian Women’s Organizations in Interwar Transylvania,” examines Hungarian women’s organizations in interwar Transylvania, revealing how these organizations developed hybrid models of emancipation. Her discussion highlights the complex interplay of gender, ethnicity, and politics in the post-Treaty of Trianon context.

In her paper “‘Terror against Women’: The Struggle of ‘Red’ Women at the Beginning of the Nazi Era: Between Invisibility and Solidarity,” Anna Veronica Pobbe focuses on the resistance efforts of “red” women at the beginning of the Nazi era. She sheds light on the often invisible solidarity among and bravery of communist women who were seen as a threat to the state. Her discussion highlights a form of activism that was not about organized political rights but about a more fundamental struggle for existence and community protection. In the last contribution, titled “The Journalistic Activity of Rosika Schwimmer from the 1890s until Her Death in a Transnational Perspective,” Dóra Fedeles-Czeferner offers an examination from a transnational perspective of the career of a prominent Hungarian feminist activist and pacifist. She examines the ways in which Schwimmer used journalism as a tool for activism and self-promotion, despite the challenges and political isolation she faced. This article highlights the importance of the press as a platform for women’s voices and the personal costs of such public work.

The six texts are interconnected in their shared focus on how women’s activism was shaped by and responded to the tumultuous political and social landscapes of East Central Europe and Southern Eastern Europe. They all move beyond a narrow (national/political) focus on suffrage to reveal a broader spectrum of women’s engagement, from journalism and social welfare to ethnic self-defense and anti-fascist resistance. Furthermore, several of the articles, particularly those by Bokor, Lange, and Schwartz, explore the critical impact of “phantom borders” and shifting national identities on women’s organizing, showing how ethnicity and nationalism were not just backdrops but integral components of the struggles for recognition and agency.

The discussions in this special issue further a more nuanced understanding of women’s activism in East Central Europe and Southern Eastern Europe. They also shed light on the ties between women’s movements and nation building projects in the often multiethnic settings of the region. This issue further suggests, as de Haan has done with her research, the importance of “decentralizing” the scholarship on the history of women’s movements and women’s activism.10 It thus seeks to encourage the more vigorous and intensive inclusion of East Central European and South Eastern European regions in this scholarship as an essential complement to the continued focus on the countries of the West. It thereby echoes the urgings made almost two decades ago by Deborah Simonton, who explained that, although post-colonial and transnational approaches took root in the 1990s, experts on the subject of women’s activism continue to wrestle with fact that the European/global perspective does not mean simply the study of shifts and events in the United Kingdom, France, and Germany. In 2006, Simonton warned that more intense inclusion of research on Northern Europe and Central Eastern Europe should be delayed no further.11 As I have noted in this introduction, progress has unquestionably been made in this area over the course of the past two decades, but historians still have a lot of work to do to make women’s history of this region internationally visible. This special issue is an important contribution to this effort. We are aware, however, that further contributions require not only sedulous research and a strong knowledge of several languages, but also the support of foreign publishers and a significant amount of funding.

Bibliography

A Biographical Dictionary of Women’s Movements and Feminism: Central, Eastern, and South Eastern Europe, 19th and 20th Centuries, edited by Francisca de Haan, Krassimira Daskalova, and Alla Loutfi. CEU Press, Budapest, 2006.

Haan, Francisca de. “On retrieving Women’s Cultural Heritage: Especially the History of Women’s Movements in Central, Eastern, and South Eastern Europe.” In Travelling Heritages: New Perspectives on Collecting, Preserving and Sharing Women’s History, edited by Saskia Wieringa, 65–78. Amsterdam: Askant, 2008.

Haan, Franciska de. “Writing Inter/Transnational History: The Case of Women’s Movements and Feminisms.” In Internationale Geschichte in Theorie und Praxis/International History in Theory and Practice, edited by Barbara Haider-Wilson, William D. Godsey, and Wolfgang Mueller, 501–36. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. 2017.

Haan, Francisca de, Margaret Allen, June Purvis, and Krassimira Daskalova, eds. Women’s Activism: Global Perspectives from the 1890s to the Present. London: Routledge, 2013.

Rupp, Leila J. “Constructing Internationalism: The Case of Transnational Women’s Organizations, 1888–1945.” In Globalizing Feminisms, 1789–1945, edited by Karen Offen, 139–52. London: Routledge, 2009.

Simonton, Deborah. The Routledge History of Women in Europe. New York: Routledge, 2006.

Texts and Contexts from the History of Feminism and Women’s Rights: East Central Europe, Second Half of the Twentieth Century. Edited by Zsófia Lóránd, Adele Hîncu, Jovana Mihajlović Trbovc, and Katarzyna Stańczak-Wiślicz. Budapest: CEU Press, 2024.

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1. 1 Haan, “Writing Inter/Transnational History.” Rupp, “Constructing Internationalism.”

2. 2 Haan et al, Women’s Activism, 2. Papers in this volume examine “how women in a variety of contexts and at different levels since the 1890s have challenged oppressive systems and worked for social justice.” They also focus on women in movements and associations.

3. 3 Haan, “Writing Inter/Transnational History.” As de Haan, Margaret Allen, June Purvis and Krassimira Daskalova highlight in the introduction of their edited volume, “‘women’ are not a unitary category, and […] their national and transnational activism has both challenged and reproduced existing power structures and institutions.” Haan et al, Women’s Activism, 2.

4. 4 Haan, “Writing Inter/Transnational History.”

5. 5 Rupp, “Constructing Internationalism.”

6. 6 Haan, “Writing Inter/Transnational History.”

7. 7 Haan, “On retrieving.”

8. 8 Haan et al, A Biographical Dictionary.

9. 9 Lóránd et al, Texts and Contexts.

10. 10 Haan, “On retrieving,” 65–78.

11. 11 Simonton, The Routledge History, 1–14.

Oskan Erewanc‘i as a Translator from and into Latin*

Alessandro Orengo

Università di Pisa

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Hungarian Historical Review Volume 14 Issue 2 (2025): 274-291  DOI 10.38145/2025.2.274

Oskan vardapet Erewanc‘i (1614–1674) was a prominent Armenian printer, best known for producing the first printed edition of the Armenian Bible (Amsterdam, 1666–1668). He was also active as a translator both from and into Latin. Erewanc‘i translated and subsequently abridged a grammatical treatise originally composed in Latin by the Italian philosopher Tommaso Campanella (1568–1639). While the full translation survives in a few manuscripts, the abridged version was printed in 1666 by the same Amsterdam-based press that issued the Bible. In addition, Oskan contributed to a Latin translation of the shorter version of Koriwn’s Life of Maštoc‘. Although the original Life was composed in the fifth century, it also exists in a later abridged form, which served as the basis for Oskan’s translation. This paper examines Oskan’s role as a translator between Latin and Armenian, focusing on his objectives and methods.

Keywords: Oskan Erewanc‘i, Tommaso Campanella, Koriwn, Armenian language, Latin language, translations

Vardapet (Archimandrite) Oskan Łličenc‘ Erewanc‘i (1614–1674) was a significant figure in seventeenth-century Armenian culture. He is usually remembered as a printer and notably as the individual responsible for the first printed edition of the Armenian Bible. Several of his predecessors had likewise moved to Europe to pursue the same goal. Finally, the first Armenian Bible was printed in Amsterdam between 1666 and 1668.

However, Oskan was also a writer and the author of an autobiography, as well as a translator from and into Latin, although it is possible that he enlisted the help of some collaborators to this end (as I discuss in greater detail below). As part of his aforementioned edition of the Bible, Oskan translated the Book of Sirach or Ecclesiasticus and the fourth Book of Ezra from the Latin Vulgata into Armenian.¹ He was also responsible for translating and adapting the first two books of Tommaso Campanella’s (1568–1639) Grammaticalia. The latter translation, which is fairly close to the original, remained in manuscript form, but it was later abridged into a booklet for didactic purposes and printed in Amsterdam in 1666.2 Oskan also appears as the author of the Latin translation of the shorter version of Koriwn’s Life of Mesrop/Maštoc‘.

The main purpose of this paper is to describe the methodology Oskan used and the goals he pursued while translating Campanella into Armenian and Koriwn into Latin. Before addressing these topics, I offer a general presentation of his life and education.3 The latter in particular is relevant if one seeks to understand the cultural backdrop of his translation of Campanella’s work.4

Oskan was born in New Julfa, not far from Isfahan, in 1614 to a family originally from Erevan. He began his studies in his native town, but in 1634, he moved to Ēǰmiacin. Here, he met a Dominican (and thus Catholic) friar, the Italian Paolo Piromalli (1591–1667), originally from Calabria. He then spent some time in Lvov (Lviv, Lemberg), which at the time was part of the Kingdom of Poland, and later returned to Armenia. In September 1662, he left his homeland for good and moved to Europe. Once in Amsterdam, he took charge of the printing house called Sowrb Ēǰmiacin ew sowrb Sargis Zōravar (Saint Ēǰmiacin and Saint Sergius the General), which at the time belonged to his brother Awetis. The printing house prospered under his direction (or occasionally under that of his representatives) and produced many printed editions, both in Amsterdam and, in its later incarnations, in Leghorn and Marseille. Oskan himself died in Marseille on February 14, 1674.

It is worth dwelling for a moment on the aforementioned meeting between Oskan and Father Piromalli and on the latter’s presence in Armenia. These contacts had an undisputable impact on Oskan’s translation activity, or at least part of it. One of the available sources in this regard is Oskan’s autobiography, published as an appendix (Chapter 57) to Aṛak‘el Davrižec‘i’s Patmowt‘iwn (History), the first edition of which was printed in 1669 at Sowrb Ēǰmiacin ew sowrb Sargis Zōravar, then under the direction of Oskan himself.5 Below, I compare the information provided in this text, technically anonymous but certainly authored by Oskan, with the report presented by Piromalli to the Congregation de Propaganda Fide in 1637, in which Piromalli detailed his activities in Armenia between June 1634 and January 1637.6

In his autobiography, Oskan recounts that, in Ēǰmiacin, he met a Catholic clergyman named Pōłos (i.e. Paolo), Italian by origin, who was very learned if not fluent in Armenian. Oskan became a student of his and thus learned some Latin and, most importantly, grammar. He then translated this grammar into Armenian and abridged it. Later in the autobiography, Oskan again states that he began to translate the grammar he had learned from Latin into Armenian. The same information can be found in the colophon of the grammatical compendium itself, published in Amsterdam in 1666.

These events are described somewhat differently in Piromalli’s report. Piromalli states that during his stay in Armenia he held lectures about grammar in Armenian, both in accordance with the local tradition (or in other words, following the commentaries to the sixth-century Armenian version of the Technē Grammatikē, attributed to Dionysius Thrax) and using a book he had authored himself. He then adds that Oskan was one of his students.

Thus, the exact connections between Piromalli’s grammar and the one Oskan translated and abridged are not made clear in our sources, although I have formulated a hypothesis in this regard (see below).7

As for the aforementioned Tommaso Campanella (also from Calabria), he was a philosopher and author of Latin writings on grammar, dialectic, rhetoric, poetics, and historiography. These were all published in Paris in 1638 by Jean Dubray (Iohannes Du Bray) as one volume titled Philosophia rationalis. The section devoted to grammar, titled Grammaticalium libri tres,8 was written between 1619 and 16249 and initially circulated in manuscript form among Campanella’s students, for whom it had been originally composed. As the title suggests, it is organized in three books. The first concerns the parts of speech, the second touches on problems related to syntax, and the third addresses reading and writing, with an appendix on the ideal features of a future philosophical language.

It is not easy to trace the history of Oskan’s translation. In theory, it could simply be assumed that Oskan, who lived in Europe between 1638 and 1640 (or 1641) and later from 1663 until his death, got to know Campanella’s work and, finding it useful, decided to translate and later to abridge it. However, the longer Armenian translation includes some passages that seem to reflect a better Latin text than the one published in Paris. This suggests that the Armenian translation was likely based on a different model, earlier than the printed edition. In fact, the sources allow us to reconstruct the following sequence of events:

1. Tommaso Campanella gave parts of the manuscript of his Philosophia rationalis to some of his students, one of whom was Paolo Piromalli. We know this from Campanella himself, and notably from a report of his literary activity, De libris propriis et recta ratione studendi syntagma.10
2. Later, Piromalli went to Armenia as a missionary, came into contact with Oskan, and taught him Latin and grammar.
3. Around the same time (1634–1636) and in the same context, according to his own testimony, Piromalli taught grammar to some Armenian students, using among other tools a work that he himself had put together.
4. Finally, in the spring of 1639, less than a year after the Philosophia rationalis was published, Oskan sent to his friend Simēon J ̌ owłayec‘i a work on grammar which he had likely authored. J̌ owłayec‘i in turn, in a letter, offered critical remarks on this text.11

Given these details, we can surmise that Piromalli was the likely link between Campanella and Oskan. Piromalli possibly gave Oskan a manuscript version of the grammatical work by Campanella (who had been his teacher) and perhaps even collaborated on its translation by Oskan. Later, both Piromalli and Oskan could have laid claims to this translation at different times. It is also possible that Oskan later revised this version by comparing it with Campanella’s text, which had been published by then.

As mentioned above, Oskan’s Armenian version, titled K‘erakanowt‘ean Girk‘ (Books of Grammar), reproduces only the first two books of the source text. It has come down to us in two redactions: a longer, basically complete version which has never been printed and a shorter one, the abridged version mentioned by Oskan himself in his autobiography, which was printed in Amsterdam in 1666.

The longer redaction, to the best of our knowledge, survived in the following manuscripts:

A 2274 Matenadaran (the grammatical section was copied in 1658;

the manuscript was completed in 1662,

at the Owši monastery)

B 2277 Matenadaran (copied in 1659 in Ganjasar)

C 2275 Matenadaran (copied in or slightly before 1666)

D 2276 Matenadaran (copied in 1688)

E 3391 Matenadaran (seventeenth century)

F 2294 Matenadaran (eighteenth century)

T Ma XIII 80 Tübingen (perhaps seventeenth century; the text is

incomplete).

Among these witnesses, Ms A is particularly relevant because it was copied in the monastery of Owši when the monastery was headed by Oskan himself. Although Oskan did not write the codex himself, it could have been copied from an autograph or created under his direction.

Furthermore, as pointed out by Tat‘evik Manowkyan,12 a redaction that is close albeit not identical to Oskan’s longer version of the grammar is found in Ms 2295 of the Matenadaran, copied in 1683; in Ms A 81 (dated to 1688) of the Institute of Oriental Studies of the Academy of Sciences of Saint Petersburg; in Ms 1941 (seventeenth century) of the Casanatense library in Rome; and in Ms 1266 (no date) of St. James in Jerusalem. Manowkyan has highlighted notable divergences between this possibly “third redaction” and Oskan’s longer version. The differences concern the structure of the two works, their grammatical terminology, and the type of language used with a metalinguistic function (decidedly Latinized in Oskan’s version and closer to “Classical” Armenian or grabar in the third version).

Setting aside the third version, which could represent a redaction by someone other than Oskan, from now on, I address the two that are certainly associated with him. As mentioned before, while the longer version has never appeared in print,13 the shorter version was published by Oskan himself in Amsterdam in 1666. As for its source, Campanella’s work is not mentioned in the short version. Rather, Oskan simply states that he has personally translated and abridged the text. However, the longer version makes it clear that the author of the source text is “the great rhetor, T‘owmay the Italian” (mec hr·etorn T‘owmay italac‘i),14 or in other words, as I myself showed in 1991, Tommaso Campanella.15

I now focus on the longer version of the K‘erakanowt‘ean Girk‘. Although this is certainly a translation, the author occasionally adapts the text to reflect more accurately the features of “classical” Armenian. Furthermore, at times he diverges from Campanella’s text (or at least from the published version of the text) and shows his knowledge of the Armenian tradition, based on the ancient version of Dionysios Thrax and/or its commentaries. Oskan’s flexible approach to the source text is not unusual. Even the Armenian translator of Dionysios Thrax, while occasionally following his source to an extreme, was able to introduce innovations. Thus, on the one hand, he tried to reproduce his model and went so far as falsely to attribute features such as vowel length, dual forms for nouns and verbs, and grammatical gender (which exist in Greek but not in Armenian) to the variety of Armenian he was describing. On the other, he was able to propose an original classification of phonemes, different from the one he found in his source and more realistic when compared to the Armenian phonological system. Furthermore, he correctly mentioned the instrumental (which does not exist in Greek as a separate form) among the nominal cases that exist in Armenian.

Oskan, however, goes even further. First, he follows his source even when the source refers to other Latin works by Campanella, which virtually no Armenian reader would have been able to recognize, access, or read in the original.16 Second, in some cases, Oskan does not simply and unobtrusively adapt his model. Rather, he translate it faithfully, only to say immediately thereafter that the features in question do not exist in Armenian. This (rather bizarre) approach is followed consistently when the text addresses grammatical categories, as in the examples offered below.17

The first concerns the degrees of comparison of adjectives. In accordance with his source, Oskan states that there are three degrees: positive, comparative, and superlative. He then gives an example but immediately adds that the superlative is not made in Armenian through a dedicated suffix, as it is in Latin. However, in this instance, Oskan is perhaps expanding on a brief remark in Campanella’s original. In fact, after listing the three degrees of comparison, Campanella adds that the distinction, though valid in Latin, is not universal.18

However, Oskan returns to the topic towards the end of his work. After listing the different constructions of the comparative and the superlative, he adds that in Armenian there is no difference between these two degrees of the adjective, or, rather, in Armenian there is no true superlative, because the comparative can serve this function with all adjectives.

In any case, it is worth recalling that separate forms of the superlative, though artificial, are listed in previous Armenian grammatical texts from the version of Dionysios Thrax onwards.

To turn to a second example, after discussing the degrees of comparison, Oskan addresses the grammatical gender of nouns. His source, Campanella, lists seven possible genders: masculinum, foemininum, neutrum, commune, omne, promiscuum, incertum.19 While the first three are clear enough, the others require some explanation. According to Campanella, commune means that a certain noun or adjective, like, for instance, homo (person, human), which can refer to a male or female person, can be either masculine or feminine and consequently can be used with either a masculine or feminine article. Omne means that a noun or rather an adjective, such as felix (happy), can be masculine, feminine or neuter and thus can be used with the respective forms of the article. In the case of Latin, by “article,” he means the demonstrative hic, haec, hoc. Leaving behind grammatical morphology to address the physical features of the referent, Campanella calls promiscuum a noun, like passer (sparrow) or aquila (eagle), that despite having a grammatical gender can refer to both female and male animals. Finally, going back to strictly grammatical gender, he calls incertum a noun, like finis (end) that can be both masculine and feminine, maintaining the same meaning. Campanella is following here an old classification of grammatical gender that is already found in late antique and medieval reflections on Latin.

Oskan in turn reproduces Campanella’s classification as well as the same examples, only to conclude that, based on these examples and his own additions, it is evident that Armenian does not have a gender distinction for nouns. He addresses the topic again later on, while discussing the concordance between adjective and noun, and he repeats that the evidence shows that Armenian does not have nominal gender.

The situation is similar in the abridged version. While discussing the two aforementioned cases, Oskan repeats that neither the superlative degree nor grammatical gender properly belong to Armenian. However, in the shorter version, he gives a classification with only three genders: masculine, feminine, and neuter. Thus, even in a work meant for beginners, Oskan feels compelled to present the general linguistic theory he found in Campanella, while at the same time pointing out when the latter does not correctly describe Armenian.

In light of the discussion above, Oskan’s approach as a translator and adapter is somewhat puzzling, since it includes both extreme (and sometimes not terribly useful) adherence to the model and a justified renegotiation of the same. With this approach, Oskan is clearly the product of his time. As Sylvain Auroux argues, a process of grammatisation was prevalent in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. By that neologism he means that two main tools, the grammar and the dictionary, were being progressively developed in European milieux. This tendency was based on an underlying linguistic theory presupposing the existence of one universal grammar, valid for all languages and reflecting thought categories shared by all human beings. This grammar was identified with that of Latin in the broadest sense (encompassing not just the Classical language, but also the accretions it had acquired over the course of the centuries). Therefore, Latin provided both the logical and grammatical patterns to describe any language and, in many cases the necessary metalanguage. Consequently, all languages had to be made to fit these patterns. This is clearly a case of the Procrustean bed (i.e. a scheme into which something is arbitrarily forced), especially if one considers the non-European languages (Asian, African, later Amerindian) that became progressively known to Europeans and that were structurally very different from the model that supposedly needed to be used to describe them. It must be pointed out, however, that this (to our eyes) absurd methodology actually presents some advantages, at least from a didactic standpoint. In fact, learners knew from the beginning what they were supposed to be looking for and what they could expect to find in the description of any new language that they set out to master. Such is the paradigm within which, for instance, the gentlemen of Port-Royal compiled their Grammaire générale et raisonnée (Paris, 1660).20 Whenever he remarked that a certain category, though presupposed by the linguistic theory, did not exist in Armenian, Oskan was trying to resolve the conflict between general theory and actual linguistic data.

I now consider why Oskan translated such a grammatical text and why he decided to abridge it. It is worth pointing out that, before the seventeenth century,21 the Armenian grammatical tradition consisted chiefly of commentaries on the ancient translation (from Greek) of Dionysios Thrax. These commentaries had been systematized twice: once by Grigor Magistros Pahlawowni (d. 1058), who had cited and expanded upon four previous commentaries, and once by Yovhannēs Erznkacci Plowz (d. 1293), whose goal had been to create a manual that would overcome the limits of Magistros’s compilation. Yovhannēs certainly used the latter, but he integrated it with other commentaries, added his own opinions, and tried to create a coherent ensemble without repetitions or omissions.

The practice of compiling commentaries, moreover, lasted for centuries after these manuals were produced. The only exception was the work of Yovhannēs K‘ṛnec‘i (first half of the fourteenth century). As Gohar Muradyan explains in this issue, K‘ṛnec‘i had become familiar with and was influenced by the Latin grammatical tradition thanks to his close contacts with Dominican missionaries in the context of the activity of the Fratres unitores (Ełbark‘ miabanołk‘) or Unitor Brethren (referred to as such because they were in communion with the Latin church). His grammar, however, did not have much success in Armenian circles.22

Be that as it may, by the seventeenth century, the traditional way of approaching grammar was no longer able to provide the Armenians with a solid grasp of the topic, as an episode recounted by the aforementioned Ar·ak‘el Davrižec‘i seems to confirm. He says that in Lvov, around 1630, some Armenian clergymen who were considered learned by their countrymen engaged in a debate with Catholic colleagues from Europe. The latter asked the former whether the word varem, which means “to labor, cultivate” or “to conduct, drive,” was a noun or a verb, and the Armenians, taken aback, gave a random answer and were mocked by their adversaries.23

Still, the traditional approach to grammar saw significant changes only in the seventeenth century, when Armenian knowledge hubs existed in some European cities, often where Catholic institutions were also based. Notable examples were the Ambrosiana library in Milan, founded in 1609, and especially the Congregation de Propaganda Fide in Roma, founded in 1622.24 Here, chiefly for missionary purposes, dictionaries and grammars of what was then considered “Classical” Armenian (albeit described through the lens of Latin) were published.

Oskan’s activity fits within this paradigm: grammar was considered especially relevant, indeed, it was the starting point of the cursus studiorum. Piromalli’s teaching activity in this domain is further proof of the importance attributed by the Armenians to grammar, since the Italian missionary could well have decided to teach other subjects, had they seemed more pertinent. A philosophical grammar, such as Campanella’s, provided enough information for a higher course of studies and could be used for advanced students. However, printing it would not have been practical at the time, since the potential sales (or at least the potential audience) would not have outweighed the significant production costs. Thus, it continued to circulate in manuscript form, as was often the case with other books destined for a learned audience. However, there was a second potential audience, composed of children and novices who were in need of a first introduction to grammar. They were the target audience of the abridgement, which, in a little more than 100 pages, provided the basic elements thereof. In this case, the potential demand justified the costs, and the book could thus be printed.

Having discussed Oskan’s activity as a translator from Latin into Armenian, I now address his efforts as a translator in the opposite direction. As mentioned at the beginning of this paper, his name is associated with a translation of the shorter version of Koriwn’s Life of Mesrop.25 The Parisian manuscript that preserves the text (see below) reads:

Vita beati Magistri Mesrop, qui primus caracteres Armenicos invenit, composita a discipulo ipsius nomine Coriun. Ea continetur in ingenti volumine quod antiquo sermone Armenico scriptum est et in bibliothequa [sic] regia asservatur (f. 2r).

Life of the blessed teacher Mesrop, who was the first to discover the Armenian letters, composed by his own disciple called Coriun. It [i.e. the life] is contained in a substantial volume written in the ancient Armenian language and kept in the royal library.

The previous page (f. 1r) reads instead “Vita Mesropae26 ex Armenico in Latinum translata a domino Uskan Vartabiet Archiepiscopo Armeno,” (Life of Mesrop, translated from Armenian into Latin by the reverend [lit. lord] Uskan Vartabiet, Armenian archbishop). And, at the top of the same page, on the left, one finds the following: “Lacroix scripsit dictante Archiepiscopo Uscano” (Lacroix wrote it under archbishop Uscan’s dictation).

This suggests that the translation was authored by Oskan himself, who dictated it to someone else. The manuscript in question is kept at the Bibliothèque nationale de France in Paris (NAL 2083) and can be consulted online.27 The corresponding record, also available on the library’s website, dates it to the eighteenth century. If this dating is accurate, the manuscript must be a later copy of the translation rather than its autograph. The Latin text was published by Ananean in 1966.28

As for the source used by Oskan and Lacroix, it can be identified without doubt with the text contained in another Parisian manuscript, kept at the Bibliothèque nationale de France (arm. 178), which had belonged to Gilbert Gaulmin (1585–1665) and in 1668 was sold to the royal library, together with other oriental manuscripts of his.29 This codex, copied in Sebaste (Sivas) in the twelfth century, contains more than 150 lives of saints. An index of persons, written in Latin and composed by Oskan in 1669, has been added at the beginning of the manuscript. Furthermore, a marginal note clarifies that “Lacroix scripsit dictante archiepiscopo Oskano” (Lacroix wrote it under archbishop Oskan’s dictation).30 Lacroix can be identified with François Pétis de la Croix père (1622–95),31 secretary and interpreter to the king, and he was certainly the same person who set Oskan’s translation of Koriwn down in writing.

Thus, the Latin version of Koriwn’s shorter redaction, originally translated and written down by a two-person team (one dictating, the other acting as scribe), has in turn reached us only through a later copy. Thus, clearly, any divergences between the Armenian text and the Latin version could be attributed to a mistake on the translator’s part (either in understanding the Armenian or in rendering it into Latin), but also potentially to the process of textual transmission that resulted in the extant copy.

A detailed comparison of the two texts would exceed the scope of this paper (but will be the topic of a future publication). However, a few general observations can be made.

The translation is decidedly faithful to the source text. Even the word order is often the same, as the examples given below will show.32

As far as Armenian names are concerned, anthroponyms and toponyms that cannot be substituted with Latin equivalents are usually rendered phonetically inasmuch as possible: thus, Taron (277, 282) for Arm. Tarawn, Hemaiac (282) for Hmayeak. These equivalences usually reflect the phonetics of Eastern Armenian: thus, Mesrop/Mesropa (277, 278, 279, etc., as opposed to Mesrob) for Mesrop, Coriun (277, 280 as opposed to Goriun) for Koriwn, Amatuni (282, 283 as opposed to Amaduni) for Amatowni, Vardan (277, as opposed to Vartan) for Vardan. Occasionally alternative forms coexist: thus, Mamigonensis and Mamiconian (both at 282) for Arm. Mamikonean. Furthermore, the translator seems to have been aware that the grapheme <ł> was supposed to represent a lateral consonant (rather than a velar fricative, as he would have pronounced it): thus, Levond (280) for Łewond, perhaps under the influence of forms such as the French Leonce or Italian Leonzio (or even the Latin Leontius), and especially Goltn (277) for Gołt‘n. It is also worth pointing out that the digraph <sc>, not followed by a front vowel, is used to render the Armenian phoneme /š/: thus, Arscacunorum (277), a genitive plural form, to be compared with Arm. Aršakowni; Scambith (277) for Šambit‘; Vramscapuh (278) for Vr·amšapowh; Artiscat (282) for Arm. (Y)aštišat. In this last case, the mistake in the second letter of the Latin form is perhaps due to the copyist of Ms NAL 2083.

There are other mistakes, misunderstandings, and odd lexical choices in the text.

For instance, the name Eznik appears three times in the Armenian text (always in this form, or in one that presupposes it). However, the translator uses Eznac twice (279, 280) and Eznic only once (280). Although the variant Eznak is well attested in Armenian, it is not present in the source text.

Again, near the beginning of the text, the Armenian tells us that Mesrop is

Որդի Վարդանայ, ի մանկութեան աստիսս վարժեալ Հելլենացւոց դպրութեամբն (264)

Son of Vardan, in this age of infancy educated in the Greek letters.

The Latin translation reads:

Filius Vardan, in adolescentia illic est exercitatus Hellenica doctrina (277)

Son of Vardan, in (his) infancy, in that place, was educated in the Greek
letters.

The problem is that Arm. astiss is rendered by illic, which would be a better match for an adverb of place such as asti or, even better, ast. Thus, the translator seems not to have recognized the term astik‘, of which astis is the locative plural, followed here by the enclitic -s (“this”). Astik‘ is a plurale tantum meaning, among other things, “age of youth” (while the genitive mankowt‘ean means in turn “of infancy”). It is worth noting that the passage in question matches, at least semantically, the corresponding section in the longer version of Koriwn’s work (ch. 3),33 which tells us that the future inventor of the Armenian alphabet was educated in the Greek letters i mankowt‘ean tisn, that is, “in the age of infancy.” This version of the text does not use the term astik‘ but rather the formally and semantically similar tik‘ (“age”), which could explain the variant that we find in the shorter version.

Slightly later in the text, the Armenian version reads:

Յետ այնորիկ ի ծառայութիւն Աստուծոյ մարդասիրի դարձեալ, մերկանայր յինքենէ զամենայն զբաղմունս (264)

After this, having turned himself to the service of God who loves
mankind, he divested himself of all concerns.

The passage is rendered into Latin as follows:

Postea in servitutem Dei talem virum Amantis reversus exuit a se omnes sollicitudines (277)

Then, having turned himself to the service of God who loves such a man, he divested himself of all concerns.

This would be a suitable translation of the source text, even down to the word order, if not for the bizarre form, “(Dei) talem virum Amantis”, “(of God) who loves such a man” (i.e. Mesrop), which does not exactly match the more generic mardasiri, “(of God) who loves mankind.”

To conclude, let us address one more passage from the final part of the text. The Armenian version reads:

Յետ այնորիկ դէպ լինէր փոխել յաշխարհէս երանելւոյն սրբոյն Սահակայ հայրապետին Հայոց, ճշմարիտ վարուք եւ ուղղափառ հաւատով, լցեալ աւուրբք (269)

After this, it happened that the blessed saint Sahak, patriarch of the Armenians, departed this world (i.e. died), (he) of the true life and righteous faith, at an old age (or more literally, full of days).

The Latin translation reads as follows:

Postea accidit ut beatus et sanctus Patriarcha Isahac, vera vitis Armenorum, occubuerit recta fide, plenus diebus (281).

Then it happened that the blessed and saint Patriarch Isahac, true vine of the Armenians, died in the righteous faith, at an old age (rendered in the Latin in a manner that keeps the metaphor from the original, i.e., full of days).

The translator had to restructure the text, chiefly because he could not reproduce to the letter a passage that literally reads “the removing of the blessed saint Sahak from this world happened.” More striking, however, is that the Armenian čšmarit varowkc “of the true life” (that is, whose existence had been in accordance with Christian truth) becomes in Latin vera vitis “true vine.” This confusion between vita (“life”) and vitis (“vine”), which cannot be justified on the basis of the Armenian text, likely originated when the translated text was dictated to the scribe. It seems much less likely that the mistake could have occurred during the process of textual transmission.

Setting aside these considerations of Oskan’s approach to the text, one cannot help but wonder why he felt the need to translate it. As mentioned before, the Armenian source text was available in Paris, and a Latin translation would have made it accessible to a much wider public. It is also worth recalling that the protagonist of this text, Mesrop (also known as Maštoc‘), was a figure of primary importance in the Armenian cultural landscape. Traditionally considered the inventor of the Armenian alphabet,34 he was also a celebrated translator and writer in his own right. Furthermore, he was active in the first half of the fifth century AD, when Armenian literature was in its infancy and the foundations were laid for its development. Mesrop was also considered a saint by the Armenian Church. Thus, relaying his story and making his life and work accessible to a wider public meant celebrating the activities of a veritable founding father of Armenian culture.

Bibliography

Primary Sources

Ananean, Pōłos. “Oskan vardapeti latinerēn t‘argmanowt‘iwnǝ Koriwni ‘Vark‘ s. Mesropay’ hamar·ōt patmowt‘ean” [Oskan Vardapet’s Latin translation of the short history of Koriwn’s “Life of Saint Mesrop”]. Bazmavēp 124 (1966): 273–83.

Ar·ak‘el Davrižec‘i. Girk‘ patmut‘eanc‘ [Book of history]. Amsterdam: Sowrb Ēǰmiacin ew sowrb Sargis Zōravar, 1669.

Ar·ak‘el Davrižec‘i. Girk‘ patmut‘eanc‘ [Book of history]. Edited by Lena A. Xanlaryan. Yerevan: Haykakan XSH GA Hratarakč‘owt‘yown, 1990.

Bournoutian, George A., trans. The History of Vardapet Aṛak’el of Tabriz. Vol. 2. Costa Mesa: Mazda, 2006.

Brosset, Marie-Félicité. Collection d’historiens arméniens. Vol. 1. St. Pétersbourg: Imprimerie de l’Académie Impériale des Sciences, 1874 (repr., Amsterdam: Apa-Philo Press, 1979).

Campanella, Tommaso. Tutte le opere. Edited by Luigi Firpo. Verona: Mondadori, 1954.

Campanella, Tommaso. De libris propriis et recta ratione studendi syntagma. Edited by Armando Brissoni. Soveria Mannelli: Rubbettino, 1996.

Kévorkian, Raymond H. Catalogue des “Incunables” Arméniens (1511/1695), ou Chronique de l’Imprimerie Arménienne. Geneva: Cramer, 1986.

Kévorkian Raymond H., and Armèn Ter-Stépanian. Manuscrits arméniens de la Bibliothèque Nationale de France : Catalogue. Avec le concours de Bernard Outtier et de Guévorg Ter-Vardanian. Paris: Bibliothèque Nationale de France/Fondation Calouste Gulbenkian, 1998.

Koriwn. “Vark‘ Mesropay vardapeti” [Life of the Vardapet Mesrop]. In Matenagirk‘ Hayoc‘/Armenian Classical Authors, vol. 1, 225–72. Antelias: Meci Tann Kilikioy Kat‘ołikosowt‘iwn, 2003.

Longo, Carlo. “Piromalli` Astandakan. La ‘Relation de’ successi’ di Fr. Paolo Piromalli OP (1637).” Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum 70 (2000): 337–63.

Post, Regnerus R. Romeinsche bronnen voor den kerkelijken toestand der Nederlanden onder de apostolische vicarissen 1592–1727. Vol. 2, 1651–1686. The Hague: Nijhoff, 1941.

Secondary Literature

Amatowni, Karapet. Oskan vrd. Erewanc‘i ew ir žamanakǝ. Lowsawor ēǰ mǝ ŽĒ. darow hay ekełec‘akan patmowt‘enēn [Oskan Vardapet Erewanc‘i and his time: A luminous page from the Armenian ecclesiastical history of the seventeenth century]. Venice: Mxit‘arean tparan, 1975.

Auroux, Sylvain. La revolution technologique de la grammatisation: Introduction à l’histoire des sciences du langage. Liège: Mardaga, 1994.

Cowe, S. Peter. “The Role of Priscian’s Institutiones Grammaticae in Informing Yovhannēs K‘r·nec‘i’s Innovative Account of Armenian Grammar with Regard of Terminology, Classification, and Organization with Special Focus on his Investigation of Syntax.” Revue des Études Arméniennes 39 (2020): 91–121.

De Clercq Jan, Pierre Swiggers, and Louis van Tongerloo. “The Linguistic Contribution of the Congregation De Propaganda Fide.” In Italia ed Europa nella linguistica del Rinascimento: confronti e relazioni: Atti del Convegno internazionale Ferrara, Palazzo Paradiso 20-24 marzo 1991, edited by Mirko Tavoni, Pietro U. Dini, John Flood, Aldo Gallotta, Kristian Jensen, Pierre Lardet, Hans-Josef Niederehe, and Giuliano Tamani, vol. 2, 439–58. Modena: Panini, 1996.

De Veer, Albert C. “Rome et la Bible arménienne d’Uscan d’après la correspondance de J.-B. van Neercassel.” Revue des Études Byzantines 16 (1958): 172–82.

Devrikyan, Vardan. Voskan vardapet Yerevantsi: Life and Typographic Activity. Translated from Armenian by Lilit Verdyan. Yerevan: Matenadaran, 2015.

Longo, Carlo. “Fr. Tommaso Campanella e la congregazione de Propaganda Fide.” Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum 68 (1998): 347–67.

Longo, Carlo. “Giovanni da Siderno OFMCAP narra le avventure di suo fratello Paolo Piromalli OP.” Laurentianum 40 (1999): 289–325.

Manowkyan, Tat‘evik. “Oskan Erevanc‘own veragrvoł k‘erakanowt‘yownə” [The grammar ascribed to Oskan Erevanc‘i]. In Oskan Erevanc‘i. Čamp‘ordowt‘yown hay tpagrowt‘yan k‘ar·owłinerov [Oskan Erevanc‘i: Journey at the crossroads of Armenian printing], 46–53. Yerevan: Matenadaran, 2016.

Orengo, Alessandro. “Tommaso Campanella in armeno: la fonte latina dei Kcerakanowtcean Girkc (Libri di grammatica) di Oskan vardapet.” Studi e Saggi Linguistici 31 (1991): 125–44.

Orengo, Alessandro. “Oskan Erewancci traduttore dei Grammaticalia di Tommaso Campanella.” Rassegna Armenisti Italiani 6 (2003): 7–11.

Orengo, Alessandro. “L’origine et la valeur des grammaires de Oskan Erewancci.” Revue des Études Arméniennes 39 (2020): 123–42.

Orengo, Alessandro. “‘Ma in armeno questo non l’abbiamo’: il confronto tra teoria linguistica generale e realtà dell’armeno nell’opera grammaticale di Oskan Erewancci.” Studi Classici e Orientali 67 (2021): 473–85.

Orengo, Alessandro. “Come e perché scrivere un’autobiografia in Armenia, nel medioevo e più tardi.” In Armenia through the Lens of Time: Multidisciplinary Studies in Honour of Theo Martens van Lint, edited by Federico Alpi, Robin Meyer, Irene Tinti, and David Zakarian, 267–75. Leiden–Boston: Brill, 2022.

Orengo, Alessandro. “Histoire des théories grammaticales en Arménie dans l’Antiquité tardive et au Moyen Âge.” In Les arts libéraux et les sciences dans l’Arménie ancienne et médiévale, edited by Valentina Calzolari, 53–83. Paris: Vrin, 2022.

Orengo, Alessandro. Aspetti della società e della cultura armene nel IV e V secolo dopo Cristo. Pisa: TEP, 2023.

Orengo, Alessandro. “Armenian and European Early Grammatical Contacts.” In Armenian Linguistics in the 21st Century, edited by Alessandro Orengo, Irene Tinti, and Robin Meyer (forthcoming).

Weitenberg, Jos J. S. “Studies in Early Armenian Lexicography: The Armenian-Latin Dictionary by M. Veyssière De La Croze.” Revue des Études Arméniennes 19 (1985): 373–429.

* I wish to thank Dr. Irene Tinti for reading and commenting on an advanced version of this paper. I am responsible, of course, for any mistakes or omissions.

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1. 1 In the Bible printed in Amsterdam, Oskan explains in great detail how he endeavoured to make the Armenian biblical text adhere to the Vulgata. The relevant parts of Oskan’s explanation are published and translated in Kévorkian, Catalogue, 51–57.

2. 2 The title of the booklet is as follows: [Oskan Erewanc‘i], K‘erakanowt‘ean Girk‘ Hamar·ōtiwk‘ cayrak‘ał arareal Yałags mankanc‘, ew noravaržic‘ krt‘owt‘e(an) [Books of grammar, abridged for the instruction of children and novices], Amsterdam, 1666.

3. 3 On Oskan’s life and work, see chiefly Amatowni, Oskan vrd. Erewanc‘i. See also Devrikyan, Voskan Vardapet Yerevantsi.

4. 4 Doubts concerning Oskan’s knowledge of Latin were raised, perhaps disingenuously, in 1668. Jean-Baptiste van Neercassel, vicar-apostolic of the United Provinces from 1662 to 1686, sent a report to the Congregation de Propaganda Fide alleging that the Armenian bishop Oskan (“Episcopus Armenus … Viscanus”) was working on a printed edition of the Bible in his own language. At first, van Neercassel mistakenly states that Oskan wanted to translate the entire Vulgata as opposed to a couple of books. More relevant for our purposes, he also says that the enterprise seemed very dangerous to him, and that he had tried without success to dissuade Oskan from pursuing it. Among the reasons for his mistrust, he cites Oskan’s allegedly imperfect knowledge of Latin as well as his shortcomings as a theologian (“praesertim cum nec Latinae linguae peritus nec magnus mihi videatur theologus”). Later in the report, he adds that Oskan had argued that he could read Latin easily enough, even though he could not speak it fluently (“cum dicat se Latinam linguam bene intelligere dum legit, quamvis eam congrue loqui nesciat”). It is difficult to say whether the vicar-apostolic was genuinely assessing Oskan’s linguistic skills or simply using his alleged deficiencies as an excuse to oppose an enterprise that he considered dangerous on other grounds. For the Latin text of the report see Post, Romeinsche bronnen, 398–99. See also de Veer, “Rome et la Bible,” 176–77. Similar doubts concerning Oskan’s imperfect knowledge of Latin were also expressed by Maturin Veyssière De La Croze (1661–1739) in a text dated 1712: see Weitenberg, “Studies in Early Armenian Lexicography,” 376, 401–2, 407–12.

5. 5 See Ar·ak‘el Davrižec‘i, Girk‘ Patmowt‘eanc‘ (1669), 629–38. For a French translation of the autobiography, see Brosset, Collection, 596–600. On the text, see also Orengo, “Come e perché.”

6. 6 The text has been published in Longo, “Piromalli,” 342–63. See also Longo, “Giovanni da Siderno” and Orengo, “Oskan Erewancci traduttore.”

7. 7 I have devoted several works to the relations between Campanella’s Grammaticalia, Oskan’s two grammars, and the one supposedly authored by Piromalli. See for instance Orengo, “Tommaso Campanella in armeno”; Orengo, “Oskan Erewancci traduttore”; Orengo, “Traduction des noms propres”; Orengo, “L’origine et la Valeur”; Orengo, “Ma in armeno.”

8. 8 The only modern reprint of this work is Campanella, Opere, which includes the Latin text and an Italian translation and detailed commentary.

9. 9 See Cronologia in Campanella, Opere, LXXXV.

10. 10 See Campanella, De libris propriis, 47. On Campanella and Piromalli’s relationship, see Longo, “Fr. Tommaso Campanella,” 347–67.

11. 11 For this letter, see Amatowni, Oskan vrd. Erewanc‘i, 279–80.

12. 12 Manowkyan, “Oskan Erevanc‘own.”

13. 13 I have been working on a critical edition for several years.

14. 14 In all manuscripts except for F, the text begins with the following words: Քերականութեանց գիրք առաջին․ Արարեալ մեծի հռետորին Թումայի իտալացւոյ․ Արտադրեալ ի հայս [ի հայս om. T] Ոսկանի Երեւանցւոյ. “First book of grammar, realized by the great rhetor T‘owmay the Italian, transferred into our Armenian (tongue) by Oskan Erewanc‘i.”

15. 15 See Orengo, “Tommaso Campanella in armeno.”

16. 16 Some of these references are listed in Orengo, “L’origine et la valeur,” 138, note 34.

17. 17 For a more detailed discussion of these examples, see Orengo, “Ma in armeno,” 477–78.

18. 18 “Et hoc apud Latinos, non in cunctis linguis,” Campanella, Opere, 476.

19. 19 Campanella, Opere, 484.

20. 20 The title of the book is as follows: [Claude Lancelot and Antoine Arnauld], Grammaire Generale et Raisonnée Contenant Les fondemens de l’art de parler; expliquez d’une maniere claire & naturelle; Les raisons de ce qui est commun à toutes les langues, & les principales differences qui s’y rencontrent; Et plusieurs remarques nouuelles sur la Langue Françoise, Paris: chez Pierre le Petit, 1660.

21. 21 For an outline of the Armenians’ approach to grammar before the seventeenth century see Orengo, “Histoire des théories.” On the following centuries see Orengo, “Armenian and European.”

22. 22 On Yovhannēs K‘ṛnec‘i’s grammar, see Cowe, “Role of Priscian’s Institutiones.”

23. 23 The event is described in chapter 29 of the History of Aṛak‘el Davrižec‘i. See Aṛak‘el Davrižec‘i, Girk‘ patmut‘eanc‘ (1990), 316 and, for an English translation, Bournoutian, History, 296; for a French translation, Brosset, Collection, 462.

24. 24 On the linguistic policies of Propaganda Fide, see De Clercq et al., “The Linguistic Contribution.”

25. 25 In the Parisian manuscript (Ms 178: see below), the text in question bears the following title: Ի յիշատակի պատմութեան վարուց երանելւոյ սուրբ վարդապետին Մեսրովբայ զոր ասացեալ է նորին աշակերտի Կորեան. “In memory of the life history of the blessed and holy vardapet Mesrovb [= Mesrop], which has been told by his disciple Koriwn” (Kévorkian and Ter-Stépanian, Manuscrits arméniens, 598). However, this title is not always present in modern editions and translations. Koriwn’s work survives in two redactions. The longer one, probably closer to the original, is attested in its entirety only by one manuscript kept at the Matenadaran in Erevan (Ms 2639), copied in Bałēš (Bitlis) between 1674–1675 and 1703, although substantial fragments are attested elsewhere. The shorter redaction is an abridgement of the longer version, with interpolations drawn from later sources. For an introduction to the topic, see Orengo, Aspetti della società, 121–29.

26. 26 The final letter (-e?) is not easy to read.

27. 27 https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b100336304.r=manuscrit%20NAL%202083?rk=21459;2, last accessed November 18, 2024.

28. 28 Ananean, “Oskan vardapeti.”

29. 29 See Kévorkian in Kévorkian and Ter-Stépanian, Manuscrits arméniens, X. In this catalogue the manuscript is described at colls. 589–604.

30. 30 Ms 178 is available online at: https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b100874360#, last accessed November 18, 2024.

31. 31 On this proposed identification, see Kévorkian and Ter-Stépanian, Manuscrits arméniens, 590. It is worth pointing out that in this work (p. X) the year of Pétis de la Croix père’s death is given as 1704.

32. 32 The Armenian text was published several times. For the reader’s convenience I have used the most recent edition, included in the first volume of the Matenagirk‘ Hayoc‘ (Koriwn, “Vark‘”), even though it contains several typos. In my analysis of Oskan’s translation, I only give references to the Latin text (according to Ananean’s edition) while discussing individual anthroponyms or toponyms. However, while discussing the translation of entire sentences, I also refer to the aforementioned Armenian edition. The Latin text of the edition has been consistently compared with that of the manuscript, available online. In a few trivial cases (majuscule for minuscule, <c> for <k>, etc.), the orthography of the manuscript has been tacitly preferred and reproduced here. However, whenever the manuscript uses <u> for <v>, I opted instead for Ananean’s editorial choice.

33. 33 Koriwn, “Vark‘,” 234.

34. 34 On the earliest sources that report on the invention of the Armenian alphabet (though with differences in some of the details), see Orengo, Aspetti della società, 88–118.

From East to West: The Greek Prayer of Cyprian and its Translation into European Vernaculars

Daniel Vaucher

University of Freiburg (CH)
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Hungarian Historical Review Volume 14 Issue 2 (2025): 247-273  DOI 10.38145/2025.2.247

The Prayer of Cyprian is an exorcistic and apotropaic prayer that gained popularity in Western Europe, particularly on the Iberian Peninsula and in South America. Since the fifteenth century, it has been transmitted in numerous versions and languages. Notably, the prayer came under the scrutiny of the Inquisition due to its alleged attribution to Saint Cyprian of Antioch and the inclusion of superstitious elements. As a result, it was listed in the Index of Prohibited Books. Until now, the origins of this apotropaion have remained unexplored. This article is the first to illuminate the clear connections between the vernacular recensions and the Greek manuscripts. An examination of the manuscripts, along with their copyists and owners, further reveals that the prayer travelled from East to West during the Renaissance, was translated into Latin, and subsequently rendered into vernacular languages.

Keywords: devotional prayer, exorcism, magic, inquisition, translations

Introduction

Cyprian of Antioch, an alleged magician, bishop, and martyr who supposedly lived in the third and fourth centuries, is a notorious figure and still epitomizes the wise magician in the occult scene today. Over the centuries, numerous spells and prayers have been attributed to this enigmatic figure. This trend began in ancient times in the Greek language but reached its peak in Western and Northern Europe from the sixteenth century onwards in the various vernacular languages. This article focuses on the so-called prayer of Cyprian, originally an apotropaic prayer of protection attributed to the Antiochian saint, which included various adjurations and invocations and thus ended up on the Index of Prohibited Books.

The Spanish, Portuguese, Catalan, and Latin versions have received some attention in recent years. It is thanks to Itúrbide Díaz, Vicente, Londõno, and Smid that the prayer has become known in the various vernacular languages. However, apart from a brief note by Vicente (an observation that he did not follow up), none of the scholars mentioned recognized identical prayers in Late Byzantine Greek. This article aims to close this gap and demonstrate the undeniable connection between the Greek, Latin, and Western European prayers.

The paper contends that the Latin and vernacular versions originate in Greek models. Even if it remains impossible to trace precisely the development of these anonymous prayers, a look at the manuscripts will highlight possible paths and actors in this process. The various versions of the prayer of Cyprian offer a good example of the complex literary and material contexts of translation processes in Byzantine times and the Renaissance period.1

In the first step, the characteristics of these prayers are briefly described. In a second step, the manuscripts of the Greek prayer of Cyprian will be analyzed. Even if these sources offer only individual insights, the sum of the individual manuscripts provides a picture of a transfer from the Greek-speaking East to the Latin-speaking West. The vernacular adaptations in the West will be presented in a third step. Fourthly, the close relationship between the Greek and Western European prayers will be clearly illustrated by comparing a short passage. Fifthly, we will offer a few examples which clearly reveal that the prayer of Cyprian became one of the obsessions of the Inquisition throughout Europe.

Cyprian of Antioch and Characteristics of the Prayer of Cyprian

According to legend, Cyprian of Antioch was a famous magician who, even with his various arts and the help of the devil himself, was unable to win the love of the Christian virgin Justina.2 Recognizing his powerlessness, he finally converted to Christianity and burned his magical books and idols. He then went through the clerical offices, became a bishop, and, finally, according to legend, died a martyr’s death, together with Justina.3 Although Cyprian renounced magic with his conversion, he remained a ruler over the demons through his art of healing and exorcisms. The so-called conversio reports that “grace was his company against the demons, and he cured all suffering.”4 This understanding of Cyprian as an exorcist was reflected in pseudo-Cyprian literature. The prayer of Cyprian is intended to protect not only the person reciting it but also the bearer or even all the inhabitants of the house in which it is recited from misfortune, illness, and demons. This list already makes it clear that the prayer of Cyprian is “universalistic.” Unlike short protective formulas against specific illnesses or ailments, the prayer of Cyprian is so broadly based that it promises to work against all conceivable forms of evil.

To achieve the protective and healing effect, the reciter uses various rhetorical strategies.5 The long litanies and invocations of patron saints, martyrs, and church fathers are striking. God’s assistance is brought about by enumerating his previous acts of salvation and redemption to make him more disposed to help in the present case as well. Thus, the prayer of Cyprian is ultimately a sequence of long lists and catalogs. What is most remarkable, however, is the conversion story at the beginning of the prayer (see below). This historiola is a clear reference to Cyprian’s vita and therefore links the universalist exorcism with the legend. The mention of a “mythical situation” and its resolution should paradigmatically help the current prayer or spell. By personifying himself in the first-person singular with the figure of the mighty Cyprian, the speaker lends additional impact to his spell.6

Concerning the various contexts in which and purposes for which the manuscripts were used, we can only speculate. The manuscript tradition suggests that some manuscripts were effectively written for use, i.e. for recitation in the case of an exorcism (see below). Some other assumptions can be made. In Byzantine thought, the origin of illnesses was to be sought either in the magical actions of hostile persons (the idea of the evil eye is omnipresent in the prayer of Cyprian) or in the work of demons. Priests and other charismatic personalities could have said such prayers over the sick, in combination with consecrated water, the sign of the cross, and readings from Holy Scriptures. It is important to bear in mind that both the Byzantine and Western churches were always critical of this type of protective prayer and attempted to construct a canonized counterpart to the “private” exorcisms in the officially sanctioned liturgy. The prayer of Cyprian operates in a border area between magic and liturgy.7

Worn on the skin (folded or rolled around the neck), such a prayer can promise an apotropaic effect. For example, an Arabic version of the prayer of Cyprian was most likely worn as a talisman.8 This corresponds with the self-designation of the prayer as phylakterion.9 Moreover, the protection promised in the prayer extends even beyond the bearer. The text vows to protect the entire house and all its inhabitants. In this respect, it is also conceivable that a scroll or a small codex was kept in the house and honored accordingly.

Given the universalistic conception of the prayer, it might seem misleading to speak of an exorcism. The distinction is indeed difficult: the text can serve as a phylactery as well as an exorcism to be recited and performed. Furthermore, the boundaries are blurred when, on the one hand, God is implored for help and, on the other, the demons are addressed and invoked in direct speech.10

Greek Manuscripts

Theodor Schermann, the first editor of the Greek prayer of Cyprian, divided the few manuscripts known to him into two groups: an Antiochian group and a southern Italian group. However, the designation Antiochian is misleading, since it is based on the erroneous assumption that Cyprian of Antioch was the actual author of the prayer and that the two manuscripts of this group (V1 and B1, see below) retained the original liturgical wording. However, his critical apparatus and the more recent edition by Bilabel/Grohmann (based on Ms A1) show that there are significant textual differences between the manuscripts. It is therefore almost impossible to reconstruct an original Greek text. In the case of this type of literature, abridgements, additions, and new passages of text are to be expected.

Several additional manuscripts have come to light since Schermann and Bilabel published their texts. According to the database “Pinakes,” the Greek prayer currently has been identified in ten manuscripts.11

A1: Milano, Biblioteca Ambrosiana, Cod. Ambros. A 056 sup.; written 1542, ff. 208r–221v.

A2: Milano, Biblioteca Ambrosiana, Cod. Ambros. B 033 sup., fifteenth century., ff. 5r–16r.

B1: Oxford, Bodleian Library, Cod. Bodl. Barroc. 008, sixteenth century, ff. 155r–164r.

B2: Oxford, Bodleian Library, Cod. Bodl. Barroc. 221, fifteenth century, ff. 136r–138v.

M: Palermo, Biblioteca centrale della Regione siciliana “Alberto Bombace”, Cod. Panorm. III B 25; fifteenth century, ff. 41v–64r.

O: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Cod. Ott. gr. 290; sixteenth century, ff. 32v–49r.

P: Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Cod. gr. 426; written 1488, ff. 146r–156v.

V1: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Cod. Vatic. gr. 0695, fifteenth century, ff. 262v–264v.

V2: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Cod. Vat. gr. 1538; fifteenth-sixteenth centuries, ff. 94v-98v & 116r–142r.

V3: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Cod. Vat. gr. 1571; fourteenth-sixteenth centuries, ff. 52v–64r.

None of the manuscripts is older than the fifteenth century. However, the translations into Arabic and Ethiopian, the manuscripts of which date back to the fourteenth century, indicate that a Greek original can be assumed to have existed before that. Of the manuscripts mentioned, A1, A2, B2, M, P, and V1 are composite manuscripts of mixed content. B1, O, V2, and V3 are collections of prayers and exorcisms that correspond to the emerging “rituel d’exorcisme” in the West (from around the fifteenth century).12 While the former group includes manuscripts that were produced probably with a scholarly interest (the aim was to preserve and pass on the text), the latter group had a practical function. They are mostly small-format manuals that were created for use, for example, for recitation during an exorcism.13 With this assumption in mind, I will concentrate on the second group, but without completely ignoring the other manuscripts.

Manuscript O from the sixteenth century is a thin booklet of 79 folios. It contains the martyrdom of Marina of Antioch in Pisidia, followed by a series of exorcisms and prayers of protection common in the Byzantine region.14 Between the martyrdom of Marina and the prayer of Cyprian on ff. 31v and 32r there are two color illustrations, one of the martyrdom of Marina, the other showing a bearded Cyprian with a long robe and halo, holding a red book in his left hand pressed to his chest. A similar miniature of Cyprian can also be found in Cod. P, f. 146v, only here the saint has both hands outstretched towards the edge of the page, as if offering help. On f. 49v, as the signature of Cyprian’s prayer, the copyist presents himself as Ἰωάννης from Patras.15

According to the catalog, V3 is packed with leaves of various origins. Batiffol called the codex “un ramas de feuillets mss. du XVe siècle de style levantin.”16 However, one block can be identified among the various handwritings (ff. 40r–65v) that contains prayers for protection and exorcisms. This begins with a prayer by Basil for the sick, which is known from Byzantine euchologies, followed by an exorcism also attributed to Basil. It is followed by prayers and exorcisms by Saint John Chrysostom and finally the prayer of Cyprian. One scribe is probably responsible for this thematic block. The origin of this block is, as already mentioned, clearly Byzantine. The owner of the codex, Francesco Accida, was originally of Cypriot origin.17 As “Protonotario e protopapa cattolico di Messina,” he donated several manuscripts (mostly of oriental or southern Italian origin) to Pope Gregory XIII in 1583 and some to Pope Sixtus V in 1585, which thus became part of the Biblioteca Vaticana.

V2 is another small-format ritual book from the fifteenth century. It constitutes an impressive collection of magical-exorcistic texts from front to back on 287 folios to which some Latin tables were later added on ff. 1r–6r.18 The codex shows a Calabrian dialect in the headings and marginal notes, for example, when the prayer of Cyprian is said to work “per ligati di qualisiuoglia mali” (f. 117r). Interestingly, the scribe has even copied the Cyprian prayer twice here, namely in two different recensions. The texts collected in it are once again the Byzantine exorcisms mentioned above. The names of the prayers are given by Saint Basil, Saint John Chrysostom, Tryphon, Solomon, Gregory, and others. The martyrdom of Marina is also included, as in Ms O.19 On ff. 217r–229r there is also a prayer for the sick, attributed to Cyprian of Calamizzi, which allows us to assume the origin of the codex in southern Italy.20 The former owner, Cardinal Felice Centino (1562–1641), Bishop of Mileto in Calabria from 1611 to 1613, was also at home in this region. He brought the book to Rome and offered it to the Vatican library.21

Manuscript B1 from Oxford is just 15 cm in size.22 The small codex from the sixteenth century was obviously written for use. It contains mainly prayers, hymns, and exorcisms in neat script and with some decorations. We know the scholar Andreas Donos from Rhetymno in Crete (then under Venetian rule) as the copyist. His pupil was the humanist Francesco Barozzi (1537–1604), also of Cretan origin.23 Barozzi was active as a mathematician, philologist, and astronomer, and he showed an interest in prophecy as well. He published the Pronostico universale di tutto il mondo, a collection of prophecies taken from Nostradamus and other authors, and a bilingual edition of the Oracula Leonis, a prophetic text of Byzantine origin.24 Perhaps this interest in occult literature brought him into contact with the Inquisition, which kept a close eye on him and sentenced him in 1587 (see below).

Manuscript B2 also comes from the same Barozzi collection.25 Irmgard Hutter has traced the history of the codex: Soon after 1381, the manuscript belonged to Markos, the abbot of the Kosmidion monastery in Constantinople, who added scholia and other marginalia to it. In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, it belonged to Johannes Ratis, and in the second half of the sixteenth century, to Francesco Barozzi or his nephew Jacopo Barozzi on Crete. Together with their collection (and with B1), it was purchased by William Herbert in 1629 and donated to the Bodleian Library.26 This codex also contains the prayer of Cyprian, but here it appears to have been added by another hand at the end of the codex.

The other composite manuscripts found in Western European libraries (and thus not specifically dedicated to exorcisms) fit the pattern outlined so far. Manuscript P, for example, from 1488 and written by a priest named Chorikarios, was purchased in Venice in 1538–1539 by a certain Jérôme Fondule for the French king and brought to Paris.27 Manuscript M from the fifteenth century can be traced to Sicily. It originally belonged to the Abbey of Saint Martino delle Scale.28

To summarize, the division of the Greek manuscripts into an Antiochian and a Southern Italian group needs to be revised on the basis of a precise textual analysis of the newly identified manuscripts. More importantly, the number of manuscripts of the late Byzantine and post-Byzantine period offer other insights. The manuscripts, their copyists, and their owners provide information about the spread of the prayer of Cyprian at the end of the Middle Ages. Greece and Constantinople, as well as Crete and Cyprus, were named as stations of transmission. This would suggest the prayer originally came from the Greek-speaking East.29 The Venetian Empire and its scholars, such as Francesco Barozzi, were prominent in ensuring the transfer of occult knowledge from East to West.30 During the flourishing Renaissance in Italy, coveted manuscripts were brought to Rome, Paris, and Oxford. The Italian south, with Calabria and Sicily, should also be mentioned. Here, we find an exciting mixture of Greek and southern Italian dialects (e.g. manuscript V2).31 In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, a transfer of Byzantine exorcisms and prayers to Western Europe took place. We now turn to this transfer.

Vernacular Adaptions

We are probably still a long way from being able to survey all the translation strands of Byzantine exorcism literature. Mention has already been made of the translations of the prayer of Cyprian into Arabic and Ethiopian in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.32 There are references to translations into Syriac and Armenian, but text editions are not yet available.33 A Slavonic recension was published by Almazov.34 The transfer of the prayer of Cyprian into the vernaculars in Western Europe has been better researched. In several publications, Vicente has demonstrated its great popularity in the recent past, both in Spain and Portugal, but also in South America.35

Here, we are more interested in the older Western European versions. These are:

a: Paris, Bibliothèque St-Geneviève (BSG) 1352, fifteenth century, ff. 1–26v.

This book of exorcisms contains Latin prayers attributed to Cyprian, Ambrose, and the Veronese bishop Zenon. Other pieces have been added in the Venetian dialect, such as a pharmaceutical recipe “a far butar fora le fature e altre cose” on f. 63v. Also of a later date is the drawing on f. 36v of a bishop performing an exorcism, probably Saint Ambrose.36 The book opens with a series of psalms, followed by the prayer of Cyprian in Latin. The localization of the manuscript to fifteenth-sixteenth century Venice fits seamlessly into the abovementioned distribution of Greek testimonies. BSG 1352 is, to my knowledge, the only extant Latin example of the prayer of Cyprian to date.37

b: Christophorus Lasterra, Liber exorcismorum adversus tempestates et daemones…, Pamplona 1631 (printed book), ff. 68v–72v.

The prayer of Cyprian begins on f. 68v, which the author claims to have translated from Latin into Spanish, even though most of the pieces in this book were kept in Latin. The bilingualism of this small-format book merits mention. The author evidently considered a “modern” Spanish version to be closer to his audience and therefore presumably of broader appeal than his Latin original. While a Latin version was aimed almost exclusively at clerics in the seventeenth century, a Spanish translation had a completely different target audience.38

c: Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Oración devotíssima de san Cipriano, traducida de latín en castellano, seventeenth century, 3ff., in-folio, Signatura RES FOL-OA-198 (BIS, 25).39

This small leaf from the Paris National Library is closely related to b. It contains the same text as Lasterra’s 1631 version but is undated.

d: Sevilla, Biblioteca de la Institución colombina: La Oratione de santo Cipriano volgare, Signatura 14-01-10 (21)

This Italian manuscript was acquired in Rome in October 1512 and has been part of the collection of Hernando Colón (Ferdinand Columbus), son of the famous navigator Cristobal Colón, ever since. Hernando Colón acquired books of all kinds throughout Europe and compiled one of the largest modern libraries in Seville.40 The ten-page text has a woodcut on the front showing Cyprian driving out demons in an episcopal hat and robe and holding a staff in his hand.

e: Barcelona, Biblioteca de Cataluña, MS. 580. Oració de Sant Cebrià contra els embruixos, Miscellània de textos en llatí i en català, ff. 155v–158r.

This manuscript from Barcelona, dated to the first half of the fifteenth century, is even older. I am not able to judge to what extent this text is related to our prayer of Cyprian.41

f: Barcelona City Archive, AHCB 16/1C. XVIII-9

Smid made known another Catalan version from 1557.42 She found this small “chap book,” which was barely larger than the palm of one’s hand, in the inquisition materials of the Barcelona City Archives. Smid showed how a hermit and healer named Jacintho García came into contact with the Inquisition in Solsona (Catalonia) in 1641. García had carried out exorcisms in his town without the permission of the church and had probably also made use of the Catalan booklet with the prayer of Cyprian (see below).

The list of these six witnesses is not intended to be exhaustive.43 But the few examples already show how the prayer of Cyprian first spread in Latin in Italy, France, and the Iberian Peninsula since the fifteenth century and was then translated into the respective vernacular languages.

The Relationship between the Vernacular Texts and the Greek Prayer

Until now, these vernacular versions have never been associated with the Greek prayer. However, their origin is undoubtedly to be found in the Byzantine East. All traces of the legend lead to the fourth and fifth centuries in the Roman east. Although the prayer of Cyprian is only loosely connected to the legend of the Antiochian bishop through the excerpt presented below, here too, the content and style point to Byzantine demonology and liturgy.44

The only connection to the legend of Cyprian is found in the first part of the prayer, when the speaker refers to his past in the first-person singular and mentions his spells before his conversion to Christianity. I reproduce this passage in several variants in Table 1 to demonstrate the clear connections among the versions.

The structure of this passage is identical in all the recensions. God is invoked with the reference that he knows the evil deeds of his servant Cyprian, with whom the person praying personifies himself. Cyprian cast these binding spells when he did not yet know the name of God, i.e. when he was still a pagan. Cyprian used his magic (or the demons he conjured) to bind the clouds so that it would no longer rain, the trees so they would no longer bear fruit, the animals so that they would no longer give birth, the women so that they would no longer conceive. The Greek version is the most detailed, with references to the vines, gardens, birds, and fish. Here we can already see a shortening in the Spanish and Catalan translations, which still retain the structure but abridge the train of thought.45

The legend of Cyprian tells of the magician’s conversion when he realizes his powerlessness in the face of the Christian faith. The paragraph in the prayer following the passage exposed in Table 1 alludes to this. Now that Cyprian knows the name of this powerful god, he asks him to free the bound forces of nature and the people and to protect them from demonic influences. The elements to be liberated are listed again in Table 2, even if in a slightly different order.

Table 2

Greek edition based on 3 manuscripts		a: Paris, BSG 1352		c: Paris, BNF RES FOL-OA-198 (BIS, 25)		f: Barcelona City Archive, AHCB 16/1C. XVIII-9
Προσπίπτω δὲ γοῦν τῇ σῇ ὀρθοτομώτητι καὶ τῷ ἁγίῳ σου ὀνόματι καὶ ἱκετεύω καὶ παρακαλῶ, ἵνα πᾶς τόπος ἢ οἶκος ἢ ἄνθρωπος ἢ ἔχων μαγίαν ἀνθρώπων ἢ δαίμονος, ὅταν ἐπαναγνωσθῇ ἡ προσευχή μου αὕτη ἐνώπιον αὐτῶν ἢ ἐν τῇ οἰκίᾳ αὐτοῦ, ἵνα λυθῇ ἀπὸ πάσης μαγίας καὶ φθόνου καὶ ἔριδος καὶ ὀφθαλμοῦ κακοῦ, μάλιστα ἀπὸ τὸν δοῦλον τοῦ θεοῦ ΝΝ. (…) νὰ φεύγουν οἱ δαίμονες καὶ δραπετεύσονται οἱ κακοί, τὰ νέφη δὲ πέμψουσι βροχὴν καὶ τὰ δένδρα φέρουσι καρπὸν καὶ αἱ κοιλίαι γεννῶσι καὶ αἱ μητέρες συλλήψονται, καὶ οἱ ἄνθρωποι ἀπὸ παντὸς δεσμοῦ λυθήσονται ἐν ὀνόματι τοῦ πατρὸς καὶ τοῦ υἱοῦ καὶ τοῦ ἁγίου πνεύματος...		Nunc autem domine deus meus Iesu Christe, cognovi nomen sanctum tuum et dilexi illud. (…) Etiam rogo te domine deus meus ut disvinpas (disvincas?) vincula nubium et absolvas ea et descendat pluvia supra fatiem terre: et terra det fructum suum. Et arbores dent fructus suos eorum et pariant mulieres filios suos immaculatos et sugant filii lac matrum suarum: et pisces maris dissolvantur: et animaliaque moventur in aquis: et omnia flumina et volatilia celi: et fontes et omnia que in eis sunt: et omnia vincula dissolvantur ab eis per nomen sanctum tuum et fugiant ab eis omne malum et omne periculum et spiritus invidi non permaneant apud ea nec apud homines portantes hoc scriptum. Amen.		Todas estas cosas hacía yo en el nombre del diablo y ahora, Dios y mi señor Jesucristo, conozco el tu sacratísimo nombre y ámolo, (…) y caiga la lluvia sobre la tierra, y la tierra dé su fruto y los árboles, y las mujeres paran sus hijos sin ninguna lesión, y mamen la leche de los pechos de sus madres, y desátense a su tiempo los peces del mar, y todas las animalias que andan sobre la tierra. Desátense todas las nubes del cielo y todas las otras cosas, y todos los hombres, y todas las mujeres a quienes fueren hechos los hechizos de día y de noche, todos sean desatados por el tu santo nombre. Huya todo enemigo de aquel, o de aquella que sobre sí trajere esta oración, o le fuere leída tres veces.		e per∙so ara Deu meu prech te molt per la tua sancta dilectio que rompes los nuus e tos los ligaments y enuia pluía sobre la terra, e tots los arbres donen lur fruit e los peixos de la mar sien desligats, e totes les coses que son en ella e nengun mal esperit e[n] ells no puga aturar, ni en aquells ho en aquelles que aquest scrita portaran ho legiran, ho legir faran sien desliurats de tot mal, profiten lurs persones e los lurs pensaments e los lurs fets i ferms en tot be, e tu senyor los vulles desliurar del poder del diable, e dels seus agu

Again, the close relationship among the four versions are clear, but so are the deviations and abbreviations that one would expect in translations (especially translations of popular literature).50 These sources offer examples of renderings in various target languages of an original text that has not been translated with strict adherence to syntax and narrow focus on the inclusion of every noun, adjective, or phrase, but the structure and the train of thought have nonetheless been retained. The Latin version (a) from Venice (now Paris) corresponds impressively with the Greek version, not only here but also in the rest of the prayer.

The Prayer as One of the Obsessions of the Inquisition

I have mentioned in passing the critical interest taken in the prayer by leaders of the Inquisition. It may come as a surprise that a Christian prayer dedicated to protection from illness and demons attracted so much attention from the defenders of the faith. But already in late antiquity, the church fathers preached against the use of amulets and the church councils attempted with their legislation to prevent all kinds of ritual practices in the field of magic. In this respect, not much had changed in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Many scholars of the late Middle Ages and the Renaissance showed a keen interest in magic, which led to the publication of numerous grimoires and exorcism books.51 Also, prayers, exorcisms, and magic were converging, resulting in a reciprocal influence.52 As Barberiato has observed, it was often the same individuals who practiced incantations for evil purposes and exorcisms for healing purposes.53 Moreover, the printing of books made it increasingly difficult for the church to control the proliferation of this occult literature.54 The translation of exorcisms previously intended for clerics into the vernaculars further popularized prayers and exorcisms, giving “religious freelancers” an instrument of power.55 One aim of the Inquisition was therefore to keep a tight rein on the laity who had entered into competition with the clergy and to preserve the Church monopoly on the realm of the sacramental.56

This can be seen in the trial in Solsona, Catalonia. Bernadette Smid’s archival work has brought to light the court proceedings against the hermit and healer Jacintho García, who allegedly healed the village population with prayers, holy water, candles, and incense in the first half of the seventeenth century. Together with the court documents, Smid also found the textual witness f (see above) from the year 1557. García had therefore used it for his healings, which is also reflected in the testimonies according to which the healer considered the illnesses the result of maleficium (the prayer of Cyprian being directed against this). Although there were many doctors and hospitals in Solsona, the hermit was apparently very popular: “Jacintho García acted as an intermediary, a specialist coming from outside the local society.”57 But this was also his undoing, as he lacked the Church’s permission to carry out exorcisms.58 Furthermore, the use of superstitious prayers and sacred objects reserved for the Church aroused the suspicion of the Inquisition. It is not known how the trial against García ended.

The action against illicit exorcists coincides with the action taken by the Inquisition against private, devotional prayers, especially those involving specific rituals, objects, or practices mentioned in the rubrics.59 These rubrics, placed at the beginning or the end of the prayers, attributed to the the devotional a merely mechanical and material value, promising effect simply through mechanical compliance with instructions.60 Some devotional prayers were perceived to have superstitious elements or to be associated with magical practices that the Church deemed heretical or dangerous. Thus, a prayer named confessione di Santa Maria Maddalena from the late sixteenth century says, “Whoever recites, or gets others to recite, this confession / for thirty days, for himself or for his family, / will receive contrition for every sin, / Mary Magdalene will be his defender.”61

Such a promise of protection, together with the indication of exact times and repetitions of prayer, can also be found in the prayer of Cyprian. For example, the Oración devotíssima de san Cipriano (c) has a similar rubric before the actual prayer: “This is the most holy prayer of the glorious Saint Cyprian, which was made and ordained to deliver people from evil deeds and spells, and evil eyes, and evil tongues, and for any bindings and enchantments, that all may be unbound and loosed, and for the woman in childbirth and for pestilence and foul air. This prayer is to be read three times on three Sundays, each Sunday once.”62 Here, the boundaries between magic, exorcism, and devotional literature risk being blurred. The Inquisition’s primary goal was to maintain religious orthodoxy, and anything that appeared to deviate from approved Christian doctrine or seemed to involve attempts to manipulate spiritual forces was subject to scrutiny and condemnation.

But even priests such as Cristóbal Lasterra from Navarro (b) attracted the attention of the Iberian Inquisition. Lasterra was himself a commissioner of the Holy Office and thus was entrusted with inquisitorial proceedings against dubious magical literature. In 1624, he became parish priest in San Adrián, where he remained until his death in 1638.63 His office in the Inquisition undoubtedly made him sensitive to this kind of literature, and so it remains a mystery why he himself translated and published such exorcisms together with the prayer of Cyprian in his Liber exorcismorum adversus tempestates et daemones… in 1631. Three years later, his book became the focus of the Inquisition.64

The Spanish and Portuguese Inquisition had shown an interest in this type of popular piety, the popular prayers, and the books of Hours as early as the sixteenth century.65 The first Portuguese index of forbidden books had appeared in 1551. The index issued in Spain in 1559 had already included the prayer of Cyprian, as had the Portuguese index in 1561, and finally the Roman index in 1590.66 In his investigation of the trial against Lasterra in 1634, Itúrbide Díaz emphasized why the Inquisition declared war on this type of prayer: Five Jesuits examined the text and, in a report dated December 22, 1634. They unanimously determined that the prayer was unworthy (“indigna”) and could not be attributed to Saint Cyprian under any circumstances, as it contained an anachronistic reference to the Moors, who had not existed during Cyprian’s lifetime. They pointed out that the requirement to say the prayer on three consecutive Sundays and the invocation of Saint Cyprian had a superstitious smell (“huele conocidamente a superstición”).67 Thus, the text was considered historically inaccurate and mistakenly (or deliberately falsely) attributed to Cyprian. And presumably most importantly from the perspective of the Inquisition leaders, it contained references to superstitious practices regarding prayer times and ritual repetition. There is no information in the Inquisition file about the decision that was finally made, but Itúrbide Díaz suspects that the print was probably confiscated.68

Forbidden books also brought the Cretan scholar Francesco Barozzi (the owner of the Greek manuscripts B1 and B2, see above) into the clutches of the Venetian Inquisition.69 A verdict from October 16, 1587 describes the accusations and, after initial resistance, the confessions of Barozzi. He was accused of having adhered to “the vane and pestiferous doctrine” and having taught it to his own son and his disciple.70 When his study was examined, the Inquisitors found two boxes of forbidden books and books of Hours.71 Finally, Barozzi confessed to have collected Greek and Latin magical books and to have experimented even in conjuring demons.72 The other charges and confessions are related to magical and divinatory rituals. Although the prayer of Cyprian is not mentioned anywhere in the entire sentenza, we can draw a link to the banned books. Furthermore, Barozzi was also accused of having abused sacramental items like consecrated water and oil.73 We have already seen the example of Jacintho García, who had used or abused ecclesiastically consecrated objects in his healing rituals, even though our text of the prayer of Cyprian does not prescribe the use of materia magica. Barozzi was ultimately sentenced to a fine of 100 ducats and imprisonment for an indefinite period.74

In sum, the Inquisition fought against the use of certain devotional prayers primarily because they were seen as potential vehicles for superstition, magic, and heterodox beliefs that could threaten Church authority or lead people away from the true faith. Together with the steps taken to prevent the free circulation of prayers and exorcisms, the Catholic Church also worked on standardizing its own rituals during the period of the Counterreformation, ultimately resulting in the Rituale Romanum of 1614, which standardized the practice of exorcism.75

However, the vernacular prayer of Cyprian belonged to a new era. Exorcism had emerged from the domain of the (Greek or Latin-speaking) cleric and had become accessible to everyone, just as Lasterra’s translation of the Latin prayer of Cyprian into Spanish had helped popularize a text banned by the Inquisition.76 In the same period, the famous drama by the Spanish poet Pedro Calderón de la Barca (El Mágico Prodigioso, 1637) shows how popular the legend of Cyprian had become on the Iberian Peninsula. And finally, the numerous vernacular versions from Spain, Portugal, and France in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries demonstrate that the Inquisition had only a temporary success.

Conclusions

The prayer of Cyprian in the European vernacular languages has received increased attention in recent decades. These versions originate from a Greek version presented above. It is probably impossible to reconstruct the original text today from the fifteenth-sixteenth century manuscripts. As the translations of the text of the prayer into other languages clearly show, the prayers were part of a living literature that was updated with every copy and every new translation. A comparison of the texts, however, reveals the close connections among the Greek, Latin, and Iberian versions.

The origins of the Greek prayer can no longer be precisely determined today.77 The legend of Cyprian of Antioch began to spread in the Eastern Roman Empire in the fifth century. Long exorcisms and prayers for healing similar to the prayer of Cyprian can be found in Byzantine euchologies, the oldest evidence of which is the magnificent Barberini gr. 336 from the eighth century,78 but it was not until the beginning of the second millennium that collections of exorcisms appeared in the Greek-speaking world, similar to developments a few centuries later in the Latin West.79

Humanism and the Renaissance brought the Greek prayer of Cyprian to the European West. The path that I have traced above, based on the descriptions of the manuscripts, leads from East to West, via southern Italy and Sicily, and via Venice, which at the time had extended its sphere of influence far into the Greek world, including Crete and Cyprus, and which had close contacts to Constantinople. The prayers thus offer a magnificent example of the long-term historical and literary processes of translations from the Greek East via Latin into the Western vernaculars.

In the sixteenth century, a new era began, with the translation of the already Latinized prayer into the vernacular languages. With the change in language, the prayers also underwent a popularization. They became an instrument for healers and exorcists outside the Church and thus also entered into competition with the sanctioned rites of the Church. Here, from the middle of the sixteenth century, devotional prayers as well as exorcisms were closely observed by the Church. Hence, the prayer of Cyprian was also found in the Inquisition trials.

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1. 1 The origins of the Greek prayer can no longer be precisely determined today. The legend of Cyprian of Antioch began to spread in the Eastern Roman Empire in the fifth century. Long exorcisms and prayers for healing similar to the prayer of Cyprian can be found in Byzantine euchologies, the oldest evidence of which is Ms Barberini gr. 336 from the eighth century, but it was not until the first half of the second millennium that collections of exorcisms appeared in the Greek-speaking world. The development of such collections in the Latin West has been studied by Chauve-Mahir, L’exorcisme des possédés, 313–34. The Greek tradition predates the Latin development by several centuries, see Strittmatter, “Ein griechisches Exorzismusbüchlein” and Jacob, “Un exorcisme inédit” for two earlier examples.

2. 2 On the legend, martyrdom, and the spread of the cult, see Krestan and Hermann, “Cyprianus II,” and Vaucher “Orationes Sancti Cypriani,” 25–30.

3. 3 The legend of Cyprian and Justina was mainly recorded in three source writings in Greek: the conversio, a novelistic account in which Cyprian converts to Christianity after his failed attempt to win Justina; the so-called poenitentia or confessio, an account in which Cyprian confesses in the first-person singular all his infamous deeds as a magician and idolater and hopes for forgiveness from the Church; and the martyrium, the account of the martyrdom of Cyprian and Justina. It is generally assumed that these three texts were written in Greek in the fourth and fifth centuries, see the new edition with introduction and commentary in Bailey, “Acts of Saint Cyprian.” Most later revisions are dependent on these three writings: the metaphrasis of the Byzantine empress Eudocia (ed. Bevegni, Eudocia) or the Latin Legenda aurea of Jacob de Voragine (Graesse, Legenda aurea, 632–36) are famous examples.

4. 4 “Xάρις δὲ αὐτῷ ἐπηκολούθησε κατὰ δαιμόνων, καὶ πᾶν πάθος ἰᾶτο,” Bailey, “Acts of Saint Cyprian,” 136–37.

5. 5 More detailed on the rhetorical means in the prayer of Cyprian as well as in related Greek prayers in Vaucher, “The Rhetoric of Healing.”

6. 6 On the use of historiolae in magic, see Frankfurter, “Narrating Power” and “Spell and Speech Act” with more literature. On the personification and role-plays in magic, see Chiarini, “Ἐγώ εἰμι ῾Ερμῆς,” and Vaucher, “The Performance of Healing.”

7. 7 Chauve-Mahir, L’exorcisme des possédés, 329. On the difficult demarcation of magic, ritual, and liturgy, see Sanzo, Ritual Boundaries, and Vaucher, “Gebet, Exorzismus und Magie.”

8. 8 Pap. Heidelberg PSR no. 820, Bilabel and Grohmann, “Studien zu Kyprian dem Magier.”

9. 9 The best discussion of Christian phylacteries is still de Bruyn, Making Amulets Christian.

10. 10 A clear definition and demarcation have not yet been established. It should be noted that Christian exorcisms are closely related to baptism and the confession of sins, but also to the healing of illnesses. Prayers for healing, such as those found in the Greek Euchologies, are therefore also related to the prayer of Cyprian.

11. 11 https://pinakes.irht.cnrs.fr/notices/oeuvre/15062/, last accessed February 20, 2025.

12. 12 Chauve-Mahir, L’exorcisme des possédés, 313–34.

13. 13 See Barberiato, “Magical literature,” 164 for other reasons of small-sized books, including, for instance, lower production costs and the simple fact that smaller books could be more easily and more rapidly hidden.

14. 14 Feron and Battaglini, Codices manuscripti, 157: There is a prayer for the sick attributed to Saint John Chrysostom, one attributed to Saint Gregory, a phylactery in the name of Saint Sisinnius and Sinidor, and another prayer by Saint John Chrysostom.

15. 15 Gamillscheg, Repertorium der griechischen Kopisten (= RGK) III 339. According to this, an invocation contains the name of Cyprian of Calamizzi, a Calabrian healer and saint, see Mercati, “Un santo della Calabria.” Healing prayers were also attributed to him in other manuscripts, such as the oratio in infirmos printed in Vassiliev, Anecdota Graeco-Byzantina, 323 from Cod. Vindob. philosoph. 178, f. 31; the same prayer is found in Vat. gr. 1538 (V2) and Marc. gr. App. II.163 (Pradel, Griechische und süditalienische Gebete, 20). In V1 the same prayer is attributed to Saint Chrysostom.

16. 16 Giannelli, Codices Vaticani Graeci, 167–71. Batiffol, “La Vaticane depuis Paul III,” 186, see also Mercati, Per la storia dei manoscritti greci, 96.

17. 17 Batiffol, “La Vaticane depuis Paul III,” 184.

18. 18 Giannelli, Codices Vaticani Graeci, 100–9, see also Almazov, “Chin nad besnovatym,” 4–6.

19. 19 Marina’s description of her life as a demon vanquisher fits into the corpus of exorcisms, see Drewer, “Margaret of Antioch.” We may wonder whether, in the course of a long exorcism, the Vita was also read aloud over the person fallen ill.

20. 20 See above, no. 15.

21. 21 Batiffol, “La Vaticane depuis Paul III,” 190, no. 3, quotes f.1r: Librum hunc è Mileto Romam translatum à fratre Felice Centino Ord: Minor(um) t(i)t(uli) sancti Laurentij in Pane et Perna Cardinali de Asculo nuncupato Ep(iscop)o Maceratensi Bibliothecae Vaticanae dono ipse dedit.

22. 22 Coxe, Bodleian Library, 13–15.

23. 23 Boncompagni, “Intorno alla vita,” 795–848; I was not able to consult Rose, A Venetian Patron.

24. 24 De Maria, “Francesco Barozzi,” 219–29. A wonderful splendor edition can be consulted on https://www.jstor.org/stable/community.14624194, last accessed February 19, 2025. Incidentally, the Oracula are also included in manuscript V1 together with the prayer of Cyprian, see Devreesse, Codices Vaticani, 169–72. This manuscript is notable for its drawings of wondrous animals within the Physiologus and also for its Greek-Latin bilingualism.

25. 25 Coxe, Bodleian Library, 387–89, where the prayer is attributed to Cyprian of Carthage.

26. 26 Hutter, Corpus der Byzantinischen Miniaturenhandschriften, no. 146.

27. 27 Gamillscheg and Harlfinger, Repertorium der griechischen Kopisten (RGK IIa), no. 527. Omont, Inventaire sommaire, vol. I, 46.

28. 28 Martini, Catalogo di manoscritti greci, vol. 1, 82–83.

29. 29 Davies, Grimoires, 28; Rigo, “Hermetic books.”

30. 30 Geanakoplos, Byzantine East and Latin West, 112–64; Barberiato, “Magical literature,” 161.

31. 31 Geanakoplos, Byzantine East and Latin West, 13–15 calls Calabria a “leading outpost of Byzantine influence in the West.” On Sicilian and south Italian spells, see Pradel, Griechische und süditalienische Gebete, and Schneegans, “Sizilianische Gebete.”

32. 32 Basset, Les apocryphes éthiopiens; Grohmann, “Studien zu den Cyprianusgebeten,” Bilabel and Grohmann “Studien zu Kyprian dem Magier.” An Arabic prayer from Lebanon (undated) can also be found in Tallqvist, Zwei christlich-arabische Gebete.

33. 33 Strelcyn, Prières magiques, L–LII; Macler, “Formules magiques,” esp. 28 on the manuscripts, to which should be added Sachau, Handschriften-Verzeichnisse, 589–90. On the Armenian texts s. Wingate, “The scroll of Cyprian.”

34. 34 Almazov, “Vracheval’nye molitvy,” 131–45 from Bibl. Sofia Cod. 869, ff. 187v–194v.

35. 35 Vicente, “El libro de San Cipriano,” and Vicente, “O Máxico San Cipriano.” A French version inserted in the village parish registers of Bosdarros in Southwestern France in 1790 has been reproduced by Desplat, Sorcières et Diables, 64. On the classification and circulation of related orationes, such as that of Saint Marta, see Fantini, “circolazione clandestine,” 62–63.

36. 36 Chauve-Mahir, L’exorcisme des possédés, 330 s.

37. 37 Not to be confused with the prayer of Cyprian are the Latin orationes Cypriani, which are sometimes attributed in the literature to the Antiochian saint, but which have been handed down in the corpus of writings of the Carthaginian bishop of the same name and have nothing to do with the prayer of Cyprian discussed here. See Vaucher, “Orationes Sancti Cypriani.”

38. 38 Smid, “Catalan Saint Cyprian Prayer,” 289.

39. 39 https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k851256q/f1.item.r=oracion%20devotissima%20de%20san%20cipriano

40. 40 Sherman, “Hernando Colón.”

41. 41 It is listed in the Forbidden Prayers Digital Library, https://forpral.uab.cat/prayer/oracion-de-san-cipriano/

    with reference to the catalog entry https://explora.bnc.cat/discovery/fulldisplay?context=L&vid=34CSUC_BC:VU1&search_scope=MyInst_and_CI&tab=Everything&docid=alma991002898469706717.

42. 42 Smid, “Catalan Saint Cyprian Prayer.”

43. 43 Fantini, “catalogo bibliographico,” 613 provides evidence of several mentions of the prayer of Cyprian in trial records from the Archivio del Sant’Uffizio in Modena from the years 1571-1608. The inquisitors were instructed to register the existence and titles of the forbidden texts before handing them over to be burned, see Fantini, “catalogo bibliographico,” 599–600 and Fantini, “Censura romana, 240–41.

44. 44 The prayer of Cyprian has not yet been studied in this respect, but there are numerous obvious parallels to the exorcisms of the Byzantine Euchologies; see Vaucher, “The Rhetoric of Healing” with further literature.

45. 45 However, Vicente, “O Máxico San Cipriano” (without page numbering) also knows longer versions of more recent date, which correspond more closely to the Greek original, e.g. Verdadera Oración de los Gloriosos Mártires San Cipriano y Santa Justina, acompañada de la SS. Cruz de Caravvaca. REus, imp. y Librería de Juan Grau. Barcelona, nineteenth century (pp. 10 ss. in the PDF): “Yo no sabía tu santo nombre y terrible, altísimo Dios, más ahora se que tú eres, Dios mío, Dios fuerte, Dios grande, Dios omnipotente, + que habitas en gran luz y eres loable en los siglos de los siglos. En otro tiempo no conocía yo vuestra bondad ni vuestro poder, y Vos veíais los maleficios que yo esclavo del demonio hacia mezclándome con su potestad. Ataba las nubes y no llovía sobre la haz de la tierra, y la yerba de la tierra se secaba y los árboles no daban sus frutos; y me paseaba por medio de los ganados extraviándolos y haciendo que se perdieran. Con mi gran astucia y malicia ligaba las aves del cielo y los peces del mar, y los peces no surcaban las olas del mar, y las aves no volaban por los aires; del mismo modo ligaba las mujeres embarazadas y no podían parir…”

46. 46 Bilabel and Grohmann, “Studien zu Kyprian dem Magier,” 236 ss. offers a text based on manuscript A1 that differs in many respects. For the sake of clarity, I will not reproduce it here. The motifs of the “bindings” before the conversion are at least the same, though the text has been inflated even more by insertions.

47. 47 I provide a transcription (with some assumptions) based on photographs of the manuscript. A Hungarian translation by György Bednárik can be found in Smid 2022.

48. 48 https://forpral.uab.cat/prayer/oracion-de-san-cipriano/. Last accessed February 19, 2025. The text in Lasterra, Liber exorcismorum is closely related, with some linguistic differences but identical formulations and structure.

49. 49 The Greek manuscripts are all issued to a specific name, see Schermann’s apparatus.

50. 50 See Vicente, “El libro de San Cipriano,” 18.

51. 51 Davies, Grimoires, 44–138. See Kieckhefer, Forbidden rites with further literature.

52. 52 Chauve-Mahir, L’exorcisme des possédés, 329.

53. 53 Barberiato, “Magical literature,” 159–60.

54. 54 Smid, “Catalan Saint Cyprian Prayer,” 280; Caravale, “Orazione,” 1141.

55. 55 Davies, Grimoires, 57–67.

56. 56 Martin, Witchcraft, 247; Caravale, Forbidden Prayer, 81–82; Lavenia, “Tenere i malefici.”

57. 57 Smid, “Catalan Saint Cyprian Prayer,” 303.

58. 58 See the note in witness a (BSG 1352), according to which Joachim Gillet, librarian of the abbey, received the book on June 29, 1711: “Mr l’abbé Hoüel, que je n’avois pas l’honneur de connoître, me donna ce livre dans la crainte qu’etant tresdangereux, il ne tombat en mains de personnes qui en abusassent.” https://calames.abes.fr/pub/bsg.aspx#details?id=BSGB10178. The catalog entry also states: “Le catalogue de vente de la bibliothèque de cet abbé en 1735 y atteste la présence de nombreux mss touchant à l’alchimie,” and the collection has a “goût orientalisant,” see http://elec.enc.sorbonne.fr/cataloguevente/notice141.php

59. 59 Such devotional prayers were addressed to saints asking for help or salvation, for example to Helena, Marta, Magdalena etc., see Caravale, “Orazione,” 1141.

60. 60 Caravale, Forbidden Prayer, 192.

61. 61 “Chi dirà, o farà dir questa confessione / trenta giorni per sé o per sua brigata, / d’ogni peccato haverà contrition, / la Maddalena sarà soa advocata…”; cited in Caravale, Forbidden Prayer, 193. Compare the rubric of the prayer of Cyprian in Modena anno 1600: “Questa devota oration de san Ciprian’ è bona contra maligni spiriti, fatture, incanti; chi la dirà o la farà dir tre volte…” (Fantini, “catalogo bibliographico,” 613).

62. 62 “Esta es la muy santa oración del glorioso san Cipriano, la cual fue hecha y ordenada para librar las personas de malos hechos y hechizos, y ojos malos, y malas lenguas, y para cualesquiera (sic) ligamientos y encantamientos, para que todos sean desatados y desligados, y para la mujer que está de parto y para la pestilencia y aire corrupto. La cual oración ha de ser leída tres veces en tres domingos, cada domingo una vez.” (https://forpral.uab.cat/prayer/oracion-de-san-cipriano/

63. 63 Itúrbide Díaz, “Piedad popular,” 338–39.

64. 64 Ibid., 343–44; Smid, “Catalan Saint Cyprian Prayer,” 289.

65. 65 Londõno, “Oración supersticiosa.”

66. 66 Ibid., 685; Fantini, “Censura romana,” 232. Martínez de Bujanda, Index, 516 lists several versions of Catalan and Italian Oracion de sant Cyprian, por si pequeña as well as Oratione de Santo Cipriano Volgare that circulated in the fifteenth/sixteenth centuries. See Vicente, “El libro de San Cipriano,” 15–25. On the development of the index, see Frajese, Nascita.

67. 67 Itúrbide Díaz, “Piedad popular,” 343. On the superstitious in these prayers, see Caravale, Forbidden Prayer, 191–96.

68. 68 Itúrbide Díaz, “Piedad popular,” 344.

69. 69 On the Venetian Inquisition, see Martin, Witchcraft; Barberiato, “Magical literature,” and Grendler, Roman Inquisition. On the Italian Inquisition see also Lavenia, “Tenere i malefici” and idem, “Possessione.”

70. 70 Boncompagni, Sentenza, c. 36v: “attendeui à queste vane et pestifere dottrine, ma anco ne faceui il Maestro alleuando et nutrendo li proprij figliuoli et genero et anco il suo unico discepolo…”

71. 71 Boncompagni, Sentenza, c. 36v: “libri prohibiti et con parole all’hora, et doppo non conuenienti à Gentilhuomo cristiano”; see Rigo, “Hermetic books,” 79. On the books of Hours, see Londõno, “Oración supersticiosa.”

72. 72 Boncompagni, Sentenza, c. 37r: “hauendo fatto diligente raccolta de libri stampati et manuscritti in Greco et Latino che trattauano de Varij sortilegij Negromantia et Arte Magica essercitandoti in quella facesti diuersi esperimenti scongiurationi de spiriti…”; see Martin, Witchcraft, 157.

73. 73 Boncompagni, Sentenza, c. 40r: “in diuersi esperimenti hauer abusato cose sacramentali come Aqua benedetta, Candelle benedette, stola et Camiso da sacerdote, hauuto consecrato oglio s.to benedetto et consacrati lochi et fatto Altari, genuflesso hai inuocato et riuerito con turificationi et finalmente adorati li spiriti maligni…”

74. 74 On Barozzi, see Boncompagni, “Intorno alla vita,” and Rose, A Venetian Patron.

75. 75 Roy, “The Development of the Roman Ritual,” 20 s. The literature on the history of exorcism is vast, see Young, History of Exorcism; Fontelle, L’exorcisme, or Scala, Exorzismus with further literature.

76. 76 Smid, “Catalan Saint Cyprian Prayer,” 290.

77. 77 See Vaucher, “Orationes Sancti Cypriani.”

78. 78 Parenti / Velkouska, L’Eucologio Barberini offers a full edition of the Euchologion and also the best overview of other Euchologies. On euchologies and methodology, see Rapp, “Byzantine Prayer Books,” and Rapp, “Byzantinische Gebetbücher.” Primary collections are Goar, Euchologion, and Dmitrievskii, Εὐχολόγια.

79. 79 See Strittmatter, “Ein griechisches Exorzismusbüchlein” and Jacob, “Un exorcisme inédit.” Other collections are of a later date, e.g. Vassiliev, Anecdota Graeco-Byzantina, 323–45; Almazov, “Vracheval’nye molitvy [Prayers for healing],” 367–514; Almazov, “Chin nad besnovatym” [Ritual for an Obsessed], 1–96; Pradel, Griechische und süditalienische Gebete; Delatte, Anecdota Atheniensia; Delatte, Un office byzantin d’exorcisme; Micaleff, Exorcistic Prayers. On the Latin exorcism books of the Middle Ages, see Chauve-Mahir, L’exorcisme des possédés, 313–34.

 

Fourteenth-Century Developments in Armenian Grammatical Theory through Borrowing and Translation: Contexts and Models of Yovhannes  K‘ṛnets‘i’s¹
Grammar Book

Gohar Muradyan

Mesrop Mashtots Institute of Ancient Manuscripts, Yerevan

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Hungarian Historical Review Volume 14 Issue 2 (2025): 214-246 DOI 10.38145/2025.2.214

The description of Armenian grammar has a long history. Several decades after the  in­vention of the alphabet by Mesrop Mashtots, probably in the second half of the fifth century, Dionysius Thrax’ Ars grammatica was translated from Greek. Until the four­teenth century, eleven commentaries were composed on Thrax’s work. The Ars created the bulk of the Armenian grammatical terminology and artificially ascribed some peculiarities of the Greek language to Armenian. In the 1340s Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i‘i wrote a work entitled On Grammar. He was the head of the Catholic K‘ṛna monastery in Nakhijewan which was founded by Catholic missionaries sent to Eastern Armenia and by their Armenian collaborators, the fratres unitores. K‘ṛnets‘i’s grammar survived in a single manuscript copied in 1350.

In K‘ṛnets‘i’s work, the section on phonetics, the names of the parts of speech and many grammatical categories follow Dionysius’ Ars grammatica. K‘ṛnets‘i also used Latin sources, introducing two sections on syntax, mentioning Priscian, and borrowing definitions from Petrus Helias’ Summa super Priscianum and other commentaries. This resulted in distinguishing substantive and adjective in the section on nouns, in a more realistic characterization of Armenian verbal tenses and voices and the introduction of notions and terms for sentences, their kinds, case government and agreement.

Keywords: Fratres unitores, Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i, Priscianus, Petrus Helias, syntax

What influence did Greek and Latin models exercise on fourteenth-century Armenian grammatical theory? Did Latin models become more authoritative with the arrival of Catholic missionaries in late medieval Armenia? After offering a brief overview of the activities of the fratres unitores, this paper focuses on Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i’s Book on Grammar as a case study which shows how textual imports enriched Armenian grammatical theory and the Armenian language.

Based on the works of Levon Kachikyan and Suren Avagyan, the essay shows that Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i relied on the early Armenian translation of Dionysius Thrax and Dionysius’ commentaries and wrote his section on syntax based on the Latin grammarian Priscianus and also on the works of Priscianus’ commentators. Other scholars, such as Tigran Sirunyan and Peter Cowe, substantialized Avagyan’s and Khachikyan’s speculations on Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i’s Latin sources. Sirunyan in particular showed a series of borrowings from these sources. The paper brings substantial new evidence concerning K‘ṛnets‘i’s reliance on the works of Priscianus and his commentators, namely Petrus Helias. It shows that with the help of Latin grammarians, K‘ṛnets‘i elaborated a more subtle Armenian grammatical theory compared to the Armenian grammatical tradition that had preceded K‘ṛnets‘i, which had been overwhelmingly influenced by Dionysius Thrax’s Greek grammar book.

1 Fratres Unitores: Knowledge Hubs, Cultural Impact, and Translations

In the early fourteenth century, Armenia was under Mongol rule. After proselytis­ing in the Armenian kingdom of Cilicia, Pope John XXII (1316–1334) sent first Franciscan and later Dominican Catholic missionaries to Eastern Armenia. They founded centers for the spread of Catholicism among Armenians in Armenia, such as Artaz and Ernjak (in the Nakhijewan2 province3) and also in neighbouring regions, such as Maragha and the capital of the Mongol Ilkhanate Sult‘aniē in northern Iran and also in Tiflis. The goal of this mission was to convert the Ilkhans of Persia and other khans to Christianity, but these efforts ultimately failed, since the khans embraced Islam and the conditions for Christians deteriorated. The special attitude of Ilkhan Abu Said towards the “Latin friars,” whom he put under his protection in 1320, encouraged local Christians to turn their mind towards the missionaries.4

The Catholic mission was headed by Bartholomew of Podio,5 bishop of Maragha between 1318 and 1330, and his fellow friars, Peter of Aragon and John the Englishman of Swineford.6 Bartholomew was known as an engaging preacher who had gathered around him many young Armenians. Part of the local clergy converted to the new faith. They assisted the missionaries and were called “fratres unitores.”7 They were preceded by the Franciscan Tsortsor monastery founded in the early fourteenth century by Zak‘aria Tsortsorets‘i, aided by Yovhannēs Tsortsorets‘i, vardapet Israyēl, and Fra Pontius.8 The leaders of the Armenian Apostolic Church, in their zeal to preserve its independence, resisted the missionaries and their Armenian adherents and wrote several letters defending the doctrines and rites of the Armenian Apostolic Church.9 Esayi Nch‘ets‘i, the head of the famous Gladzor monastic school, and in particular Nch‘ets‘i’s student Yovhannēs Orotnets‘i and Maghak‘ia Ghrimets‘i in the subsequent generation, as well as Yovhannēs Orotnets‘i’s student, the famous theologian and philosopher Grigor Tat‘ewats‘i (1344–1409), were particularly active in these resistance efforts.10 In the course of this controversy, the pro-Latin faction also produced documents, but few of them have survived.11

The fratres unitores founded several monastic centers. After his arrival to Maragha in 1318, Bartholomew moved to the monastery of K‘ṛna. This monastery was founded by Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i in 1330 in the village of the same name in the historical Armenian province Nakhijewan.12 After Bartholomew died in 1333, the monastery was led by Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i (until his death in 1347).13 K‘ṛnets‘i cooperated extensively with Yakob K‘ṛnets‘i, Peter of Aragon and John of Swineford (Joannes Anglus14), who made good progress in learning Armenian. The K‘ṛna monastery was named “New Athens” (նոր Աթենք), and it remained active until 1766.15 Another center for the fratres unitores was  the St. Nicholas monastery in Kaffa (Crimea).16 As a whole, the congregation consisted of about 14 monasteries at its zenith.17 In 1356, the community of the unitors reached its heyday, running 50 monasteries with about 700 monks. By 1374, the community had declined substantially.18

The fratres unitores translated from Latin Catholic ritual books and Western scholastic authors’ writings, and they also wrote original philosophical, logical, and theological works.19 As a result of their activities, the most important Roman liturgical books became accessible in Armenian.20 Another example, showing the importance of the fratres unitores’ cultural contributions was Bartholomew of Bologna’s On Hexaemeron (Ms M1659, copied in the fourteenth century). It contains considerable information on celestial bodies, plants, and animals based on the writings of several ancient Greek philosophers, medieval theologians, and scholars.21

Most of the translated and original works of the unitor brothers have not yet been published.22 It should be also noted that Marcus van den Oudenrijn’s bibliographic work lists are largely based on the holdings of Western collections.23 At the same time, the largest collection of Armenian manuscripts in Matenadaran (Mesrop Mashtots Institute of Ancient Manuscripts in Yerevan) includes early manuscripts, which contain the bulk of the works listed by Oudenrijn.

The unitors’ intellectual achievements seem to have aroused interest among their adversaries. Although little research has been done on this, it has been stated that the works created in the milieu of the unitors soon reached Armenian intellectual circles, despite the fact that the unitors themselves were trying to ban their spread among their adversaries.24 In a colophon to Bartholomew’s Sermonary, Yakob K‘ṛnets‘i (the most prolific translator of the K‘ṛna school)25 threatens to anathematize and excommunicate anyone who gives it to them.26 In 1363, at the request of Yovhannēs Orotnets‘i, Grigor Tat‘ewats‘i copied Ms M2382 containing Bartholomew’s Dialectics, Gilbertus Porretanus’ Liber sex rerum principiis, and its commentary by Peter of Aragon. In 1389, Yakob Ghrimets‘i, a renowned scholar, copied Ms M3487, a codex encompassing the works of John of Swineford. Yovhannēs Orotnets‘i’s commentaries on Aristotle’s Categories and On Interpretation, on Pophyry’s Isagoge to Aristotle’s Categories and on Philo of Alexandria’s De Providentia witness to his awareness of European methodology applied in philosophical and logical writings.27 It was Grigor Tat‘ewats‘i, the most prominent theologian of the Armenian Church, on whose writings Western philosophy and theology had exerted the strongest influence, and he passes this influence on in his work.28

The language of the texts produced by the unitorian brothers bears Latin influence. This influence resembles the use of the artificial grammatical forms and neologisms in the translations of the so-called Hellenizing school, which was a literary trend in old Armenian literature marked by extreme adherence to the literal translation method and by Greek influence on vocabulary, syntax, and even morphology.29 The tendency to copy Latin words and grammatical features gathered further impetus in the so-called Latinizing (լատինաբան) translations and original works produced in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries by the Catholic preachers, who were alumni of the Collegium Urbanum.30 This collegium was founded in 1627 in Rome and belonged to the Congregation “De propagande fide” founded in 1622 to promote the Catholic faith in eastern Christian countries. Works of the alumni of the Collegium Urbanum included a series of Armenian grammars. Scholars held different views on whether the fourteenth-century and seventeenth- and eighteenth-century texts should be viewed as two separate groups31 of Latinizing Armenian literature or it is one and the same trend which regressed for some time and was revived in the seventeenth century.32

After these introductory remarks on the fratres unitores, I now turn my focus to Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i’s grammatical work.

2.1 Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i and His Grammatical Work: The Circumstances
of its Composition and the Influence of Dionysius Thrax

Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i (ca. 1290–1347) was a student of the abovementioned Esayi Nch‘ets‘i, an outstanding scholar himself and one of the most ardent adversaries of the Catholic faith. In 1328, Esayi sent K‘ṛnets‘i to Maragha to explore the curriculum taught there by Bartholomew of Podio. There, K‘ṛnets‘i adopted Catholicism,33 learned Latin, and taught Armenian to Bartholomew (before learning Armenian, the latter communicated with the Armenian brothers in Persian). In 1330, Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i returned to K‘r. na and persuaded the feudal lord of the village (who was his uncle) and his wife to convert to Catholicism. With their financial aid, K‘ṛnets‘i built a new church on the territory of the local Surb Astuatsatsin (Holy Theotokos) monastery and donated it to the Dominican order. Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i was the head of the K‘r. na monastery between 1333 and 1347. Peter Cowe refers to him as the leading figure among the Armenian scholars who joined the Dominican congregation.34 In 1342, K‘ṛnets‘i traveled to the papal see in Avignon to discuss his future efforts towards the union of the Armenian and Roman Churches.35 One of the colophons of Ms M327636 reads:

In the upper monastery of K‘ṛna, under the protection of the Holy Theotokos, headed by doctor Yovhannēs nicknamed K‘ṛnets‘i, in whose name pious lord Gorg (sic!) and his wife lady Ēlt‘ik founded the holy congregation. And those three, doctor Yohan and Lord Gēorg and lady Ēlt‘ik, willingly donated the monastery to the Order of Preachers of Saint Dominic, an eternal gift. This Yovhannēs caused much benefit; he collected here doctors from Latins and Armenians, taking care of all concerning their soul and body, and he translated and is translating many salutary and enlightening writings… and he brought the redeeming tidings to the Armenian people and led those worthy to the obedience to the high throne of Rome…37

Only one of Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i’s translations survives: Bartholomew’s Liber de inferno, probably translated between 1328 and 1330 in Maragha.38 Alberto Casella summarized information concerning three other translations from Yovhannēs’ quill:39 Bartholomew’s Liber de judiciis, translated in 1328–1330 in Maragha;40 the Regula S. Augustini episcopi de vita religiosorum, translated either by Yovhannēs or by Bartholomew,41 and the Constitutiones ordinis Fratrum Praedicatorum, probably translated by Yovhannēs, from which two lines are cited by Clemens Galanus.42

Marcus Van Oudenrijn contends that another treatise entitled Disputatio de duabus naturis et de una persona in Christo, composed, according to the colophon “by Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i and bishop Bartholomew” (MS M3640, 14th c., 121r–150v), was written by Bartholomew and translated by Yovhannēs.43 In contrast, Arevshatyan claims that they wrote it together in Armenian before Bartholomew moved from Maragha to K‘ṛna.44

As to original works by Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i, his grammatical work and a letter addressed to the fratres unitores have survived. In the letter, Yovhannēs explains his motifs for conversion to the Catholic faith and ascribes 19 “unforgivable errors” to the adherents of the Armenian Apostolic Church.45

Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i probably wrote his Grammar (Յաղագս քերականին)46 in the 1340s. The text has survived in a single manuscript kept in the Mekhitharist congregation in Vienna (Ms W293, 2r–29r).47 It was copied in 1350, three years after the author’s death in Kaffa (Crimea). Marcus van den Oudenrijn, judging by the short information on this text in the catalogue,48 wrote, “Est commentarius in antiquam versionem Artis Grammaticae Dionysii Thracis.”49

However, the colophon at the end reads:

I, fra Yohan K‘ṛna, called by the nickname K‘ṛnets‘i, have made a short compendium from Armenians and Latins, [small] bits from many authors and grammarians, giving a door and a road for the novices to enter the cities of wisdom, to ascend from practice to knowledge, and with this minor art to the art of arts which is the mother and dwelling and abode for those who are directed towards wit and wisdom (as if aroused by a goad and awakened from the vacillation of drowsiness), so that they arrive at the knowledge of the truth and good, which is the perfection of logic.50

K‘ṛnets‘i did indeed write a “short compendium,” and he combined grammatical knowledge from different sources.51 He used the Armenian version of Ars grammatica by Dionysius Thrax,52 translated from Greek in the second half of the fifth century.53 In addition, K‘ṛnets‘i used some of the several commentaries on Dionysius Thrax’s work, which Armenian authors wrote between the sixth and fourteenth centuries, in particular, the commentary written by his teacher in the Gladzor monastery Esayi Nchets‘i.54 Yovhannēs also included information on syntax that he borrowed from Latin grammatical works. Yovhannēs’ work bears some influence of the sections on the noun and verb in Bartholomew’s Dialectics, as has been noticed.55 The grammar book is written in Grabar (Classical Armenian), but some examples are in Middle Armenian (appearing most apparently in the verbal forms with the prepositive particle կու – ku).

Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i applied most of the terms which Dionysius Thrax’ Armenian translator coined, such as the names of the parts of speech and the main grammatical categories. In this respect, K‘ṛnets‘i followed Dionysius’ abovementioned commentators. At the same time, he also created some new terms, especially those about syntax.

In the introduction to the edition of Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i’s grammatical work, Suren Avagyan has pointed out that some parts had been influenced by (sometimes cited from) the work of Dionysius Thax, whom K‘ṛnets‘i mentioned as “the grammarian” (Քերթող, 220).56 Most affected by the Dionysian Grammar are the phonetic sections of the first and longest part, titled “Part One, on the Simple Knowledge,” which contains the following sections: “[1] On the letter,” “[2] On syllables,” “[3] On long syllables,” “[4] On short syllables,” and “[5] On common syllables” (K‘ṛnets‘i also reflects some real features of Classical Armenian,57 in contrast with the Armenian version of Dionysius58). The last short “philological” chapters also show the influence of Dionysius’ Grammar, which are “Part Four, on Prosody,” “Part Five, on Metric Elements,”59 and “Part Six, on Reading.” In the description of the parts of speech (sections 6–14 of “Part One”), K‘ṛnets‘i combines details found in Dionysius’ Grammar and Dionysius’ Armenian commentaries with Latin sources and his observations.

Like Dionysius Thrax, Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i also discussed some grammatical categories which are not characteristic of the Armenian language.60 One of these features is the gender of nouns. He writes: սերք անուանց... արական է իք – այր, իգական է էք – կին, չեզոք է օք – երկին (168, “the gender of nouns… masculine is ik‘ – man, feminine is ēk‘ – woman, neuter is ok‘ – sky”). The strange ik‘, ēk‘, ok‘ forms are transliterations of the Latin pronoun hic, haec, hoc,61 indicating the gender of the related nouns (cf. Petrus 323–327),62 and are called articula (Petrus 326). The same pronoun with various nouns figures in Priscianus’ section “De generibus” (Pr. 141–144).63 Later, Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i cautions that one should “be aware that there is difference of genders… in the Greek and Latin languages, but not in the Armenian speech [where it occurs] just scattered and at random.”64

Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i applied a considerable number of grammatical terms, drawing their origins from Dionysius Thrax’s Ars grammatica, which became common in Armenian grammatical works. The following are the main terms, followed by the corresponding Latin terms in Priscianus’ work65:

անուն (163–72) = Dion. 12–2266 – ὄνoμα (23.1, 24.3, 6, 29.1, 5, 36.1, 5,67 etc.), “nomen;”

թուական (165–6, 198) = Dion. 18.7, 21.22 – ἀριθμετικόν (33.5, 44.4), “numerale;”

բայ (176–81) = Dion. 12.4, 22.11, 15, 24.10, 25.20, etc. – ῥῆμα (23.1, 29.3, 46.4, 53.5, 54.1, 57.5, etc), “verbum;”

ընդունելութիւն (183–6) = Dion. 12.14, 26.23, 24 – μετοχή (23.1, 60.1), “participium;”

մակբայ (181–3) = Dion. 12.16, 31.1, 2, 5 – ἐπίρρημα (23.2, 72.3, 73.1), “adverbium;”

դերանուն (172–6) = Dion. 12.5, 30.1 – ἀντωνυμία (23.2, 63.1), “pronomen;”

նախդիր (189–90), cf. Dion. 12.15, 30.7 նախադրութիւն68 – πρόθεσις (23.2, 70.2), “praepositio;”

յօդ (190–1) = Dion. 12.15, 27.2 – ἄρθρoν (23.2, 66.1), “articulum;”

շաղկապ (186–9) = Dion. 12.6, 35.7, 11 – σύνδεσμoς (23.2, 86.2, 87.1), “conjunctio.”

Among specific terms designating grammatical categories,69 the following are worth mentioning:

սեր մակաւասար … երկբայական (168) – Dion. 13.10 = ἐπίκοινον (25.1), “genus epichenum70 et dubium” (Petrus 325);

գերադրական (167) = Dion. 13.24, 15.12 – ὑπερθετικὸν (25.7, 28.3), “superlativus” (Pr. III.86);

հրամական (177), cf. Dion. 22.21 հրամայական – προστακτική (47.3), “imperativus” (Pr. VIII.406);

ըղձական (177) = Dion. 22.21– εὐκτική (47.3), “optativus” (Pr. VIII.407);

ստորադասական (178) = Dion. 22.21 – ὑποτακτική (47.3), “subjunctivus” (Pr. VIII.408);

բայածական (197) = Dion. 13.25, 16.3 – ῥηματικόν (25.7, 29.3), “verbalium” (Petrus 1026);

աներևոյթ (178) = Dion. 22.20 – ἀπαρέμφατος (47.4), “infinitivus” (Petrus 202).

2.2 The Influence of Priscianus and His Commentators
on Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i Grammar Book: Findings in the Scholarship

The first and last sections of K‘ṛnets‘i’s grammatical work, therefore, are indebted to Dionysius Thrax and his Armenian commentators. In contrast, the second section, titled “Part Two, on the Knowledge of Combination, that is of the Utterance,” and the third section, titled “Part Three, on Syntactic Links,” deal with syntax. These chapters offered something new, since neither the text of Dionysius nor of his commentators had included sections on syntax. The only name Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i mentioned in these parts on syntax71 was Priscianus (Պրիսիանոս) of Caesarea, the sixth-century author of the Institutiones Grammaticae, a systematic Latin grammar. Priscianus’ grammar book became the most influential work during the Middle Ages (especially books XVII and XVIII, the so-called Priscianus minor).

In a recent article, Tigran Sirunyan has demonstrated a considerable number of textual parallels, literal translations, or paraphrases in Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i’s work from Priscianus’ Institutiones grammaticae.72 Sirunyan has also shown that some passages in K‘ṛnets‘i’s grammar can be traced back to Petrus Helias’ Summa super Priscianum (ca. 1150)73 and to Sponcius Provincialis’ commentary on Priscian’s work (from the thirteenth-century).

Sirunyan is convinced that Yovhannēs drew information heavily from Priscianus’ grammar book when describing morphology, though without referring to Priscianus. Sirunyan also contends that in the sections on syntax Yovhannēs relied to Priscianus’ commentator(s). Such remarks as “Priscianus says”74 are borrowed from Priscianus’ commentators.75 For instance, Petrus Helias often used phrases such as “dicit Priscianus” (246), “tractat” (passim, e.g. 258), and “ponit” (passim, e.g. 244). I provide below the main parallels that Sirunyan offered:

Վանկ է պարառութիւն տառից ի ներքո միո ձայնի և միո շնչո անբաժանելի արտաբերեալ (161), “Syllable is a combination of letters pronounced indivisibly in one sound and in one breath” – “Syllaba est comprehensio literarum consequens sub uno accentu et uno spiritu prolata” (Pr. I.44).

The features գոյացութիւն և որակութիւն (164 = “substantia et qualitas,” Pr. I.55) are added to the Dionysian definition of the noun (Dion. 12.22).

Դերանուն է մասն բանի յոլովական, եդեալ փոխանակ յատուկ անուանն և նշանակէ զյատուկ իմն անձն (172), “Pronoun is a declinable part of speech put in the place of a proper noun and shows a certain person”), cf. “Pronomen est pars orationis, quae pro nomine proprio uniuscuiusque accipitur personasque finitas recipit” (Pr., XII.577).

Բայ է մասն բանի հոլովական76, թարց անգման, հանդերձ ամանակաւ և դիմօք, որ նշանակէ ներգործութիւն և կիր կամ զերկոսեանն (176), “Verb is a declinable part of speech, without case, with tense and person, which shows activity and passivity or both”) – “Proprium est verbi actionem sive passionem sive utrumque cum modis et formis et temporibus sine casu significare” (Pr. I.55); “Verbum est pars orationis cum temporibus et modis, sine casu, agendi vel patiendi significativum” (Pr. VIII.369).

Կերպ բային է ձայն, որ ցուցանէ զախորժակ սրտին (177), “Verbal mood is an expression (lit. voice) showing the inclination of the heart” – “Modi sunt diversae inclinationes animi, varios eius affectus demonstrantes” (Pr. VIII.421).

Մակբայ է մասն բանի անհոլովական, որո նշանակութիւնն յաւելեալ լինի բային, որպէս մակադրական անուանքն գոյականացն, քանզի որպէս ասեմք «խոհեմ մարդ», այսպէս և ասեմք, թէ՝ «խոհեմաբար առնէ» (181), “Adverb is an indeclinable part of speech the meaning of which is added to the verb, as the adjectives to the nouns, for as we say ‘prudent man,’ likewise we say ‘he acts prudently’ ” – “Adverbium est pars orationis indeclinabilis, cuius significatio verbis adicitur… quod adjectiva nomina… nominibus, ut ‘prudens homo prudenter agit’ ” (Pr. XV.61).

The following kinds of adverbs correspond to the Latin ones: երդմնական (182) – “jurativa” (Pr. XV.85), ըղձականք (182) – “optativa” (86), կարծողականք (182) – “dubitativa” (86), որպիսականք (182) – “qualitatis” (86), ժամանակականք (182) – “temporales” (81), տեղականք (182) – “locales” (83), հաստատականք (182) – “confirmativa” (85), յորդորականք (182) – “hortativa” (86), քանակականք (182) – “quantitatis” (86), ժողովականք (182) – “congregativa” (87), որոշականք (182) – “discretiva” (87), նմանականք (182) –“similitudinis” (87):

Շաղկապ է մասն բանի անհոլովական, շաղկապական կամ տարալուծական այլոց մասանց բանին՝ ընդ որս նշանակէ կարգաւորեալ զմիտս բանին, ցուցանելով զօրութիւն կամ զկարգ իրաց (186), “Conjunction is an indeclinable part of speech, connective or disjunctive of other parts of speech, with which it manifests the ordered meaning of the utterance, showing the sense (lit. power) or the order of things” – “Conjunctio est pars orationis indeclinabilis, conjunctiva aliarum partium orationis, quibus consignificat, vim vel ordinationem demonstrans” (Pr. XVI.93).

Զօրութիւն, որպէս թէ ասել. «այս անուն էր գթած և խոհեմ» (186), “Sense (lit. power) – as if [one may] say: ‘so-and-so was merciful and prudent’ ” – “vim, quando simul esse res aliquas significant, ut et ‘pius et fortis fuit Aeneas’ ”77 (Pr. XVI.93); զկարգն, յորժամ ցուցանէ զհետևումն իրաց (186, “order, when he shows the sequence of events”) – “ordinem, quando consequentiam aliquarum demonstrat rerum” (Pr. XVI.93).

The following kinds of conjunctions correspond to the Latin ones: բաղհիւսական – “copulativa,” շարադրական – “continuativa” (Pr. XVI.94), ենթաշարադրական – “subcontinuativa,” շարայարադրական – “adjunctiva” (Pr. XVI.95), փաստաբանական (the same in Dion. 36.14 – αἰτιολογικός, 88.1) – “causalis” (Pr. XVI.96), հաստատական – “approbativa” (Pr. XVI.97), տարալուծական – “disjunctiva, ենթատարալուծական – “subdisjunctiva” (Pr. XVI.98), ընտրողական – “electiva,” դիմադրական – “adversativa” (Pr. XVI.99), բաղբանական (= Dion. 37.1 – συλλογιστικός, 88.2) – “collectiva” (Pr. XVI.100), տարակուսական (= Dion. 36.22 – ἀπορρηματικός, 94.2) – “dubitativa” (Pr. XVI.101), թարմատար (187 = Dion. 37.8 –παραπληρωματικός, 96.3) – “completiva” (Pr. XVI.102).

Նախդիր է մասն բանի ոչ հոլովական, որ նախադասի այլոց մասանց բանին յաւելմամբ կամ բաղբանութեամբ (189, “Preposition is an indeclinable part of speech, which is placed before other parts of speech by addition or connection”) – “Est igitur praepositio pars orationis indeclinabilis, quae praeponitur aliis partibus vel appositione vel compositione” (Pr. XIV.24).

Բանն է պատշաճաւոր շարակարգութիւն ասութեանց (191, “Utterance is a suitable order of phrases”) – “Oratio est ordinatio dictionum congrua” (Pr. II.53).

Փրօլեմսիս, սէլէմսիս, սիմթոսիս, զէօմայ, անտիթոզիս (206, trans­literated terms: “P‘rolemsis, sēlēmsis simt‘osis, zēōmay, antit‘osis”) – prolemsis et silemsis et zeuma (Petrus 1003), antitosis (Petrus 1005).

Արծիւքն թռեան, այս արևելից, և այն արևմտից (207, “The eagles flew, this one form the east, and that one from the west”) – “Aquilae devolaverunt, haec ab oriente, ille ab occidente” (Pr. XVII.125).

Վերբերականութիւն է նախասացեալ իրին վերստին յիշեցումն (209, “Relation is reminding anew of the thing said before”) – “Relatio est, ut ait Priscianus, antelate rei repetitio” (Sponcius Provincialis).78

Իսկ վերբերականացն ոմն է պակասական և ոմն ոչ պակասական։ Պակասական է՝ «այն, որ կու ընթեռնու», ի յո դնի վերբերականն առանց նախադասութեանց, հիբար՝ «այն, որ կու ընթեռնու, կու տրամաբանէ». զի այն և որն է վերբերական և ոչ ունի նախադասեալ։ Ոչ պակասական է այն, ի յոր դնի վերբերականն և նախադասեալն, հիկէն՝ «մարդն, որ կու ընթեռնու, կու տրամաբանէ»։ Եւ գիտելի է, զի վերբերականս այս՝ «որ», կարէ դնիլ ընդ ամենայն անգմունս իւր, առանց նախադասելոյն (209, “Of relatives some are defective and others non-defective. Defective is: ‘the one who reads’ (in which the relative is put without antecedent,79 as ‘the one who reads, reasons’), since ‘the one’ and ‘who’ is relative and has no antecedent. And not defective is that in which the relative and the antecedent are put, as ‘the man who reads, reasons.’ And it should be known that this relative, ‘who’ may be put in all its cases without antecedent”) – “Relationum alia est ecleptica, et alia non ecleptica. Ecleptica est illa quando relativum ponitur per defectum antecedentis, ut ‘qui legit disputat’. Non ecleptica est, quando relativum et antecedens ponuntur in locutione, ut ‘homo, qui legit, disputat’. Et notandum quod hoc relativum ‘qui’ potest poni per omnes suos casus per defectum antecedentis” (ibid.).

Համրն է, յորժամ մի վերբերական վերաբերի առ միւսն, որպակ «այն, որ կու ընթեռնու, կու տրամաբանէ» (209, “[A relation] is mute80 when one relative relates to another, as: ‘he who reads, reasons’ ”) – “Mutua relatio est illa, quando unum relativum tenetur alteri relativo, ut ‘ille qui legit, disputat’ ” (ibid.).

Անձնական է, յորժամ նախադասեալն և վերբերականն ենթադրին վասն նոյնին, որգոն «մարդ, որ կու ընթեռնու, կու գրէ»։ Պարզ է... յորժամ նախադասեալն ենթադրէ վասն միո և վերբերականն վասն այլո, որգունակ «կինն, որ դատապարտեաց, փրկեաց» (210–211, “[A relation] is personal when the antecedent and the relative are supposed for the same, as ‘the man who reads, writes.’ [A relation] is simple… when the antecedent supposes one and the relative another, as ‘the woman who condemned, saved’.”) – “Personalis relatio est, quando antecedens supponit pro uno appellativo et relativum pro eodem, ut ‘P. legit, qui disputat’. Simplex est, quando antecedens supponit pro uno appellativo et relativum pro alio, ut in theologia ‘mulier quae damnavit, salvavit’81 ” (ibid. 358).

Sirunyan concludes that K‘r. nets‘i is an innovator of Armenian grammatical thought who complemented the Hellenizing Armenian tradition with excerpts from Latin sources.

In addition to Sirunyan, Peter Cowe dedicated an article to K‘ṛnets‘i’s grammar book. Cowe called attention to K‘ṛnets‘i’s reference to the seven liberal arts in the introduction82 and noted that K‘ṛnets‘i had modified the order of his grammatical material compared to Dionysius.

Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i discussed the parts of speech so that the pronoun immediately follows the noun, and the participle follows the verb, and he moved Dionysius’ “philological” chapters from the beginning to the end.83 Cowe also analyzed some aspects of his treatment of the verb (the definition of the verb, the imperative mood, the subjunctive mood) and of the pronoun,84 and he made some remarks on the parts of the book devoted to syntax.85 Cowe mainly collated passages from K‘ṛnets‘i’s text with those of Priscianus. He examined the role of Middle Armenian examples in the grammatical book in question and concluded it with the assertion that its author’s “motive was rather one of enlightened pedagogy to facilitate his pupil’s entry through the door of learning rather than embarking on path of obscurum per obscurius.”86 This means that some of K‘ṛnets‘i’s examples were not taken from the “obscure” literary language but from the living language of his time. Cowe also cited K‘ṛnets‘i’s ideas concerning the grammatical gender peculiar to Greek and Latin and the dual number in Greek and Arabic, which are absent from Armenian. Cowe highlighted K‘ṛnets‘i’s combination of two cases of Armenian under one denomination (see the “sending” case below) and K‘ṛnets‘i’s comments concerning the absence of short and long syllables in Armenian.87

2.3 Further Borrowings from Priscianus and his Commentators

A close reading of K‘ṛnets‘i’s grammar reveals further parallels with the works of Priscianus and Petrus Helias that escaped the attention of the scholars mentioned above. These parallels can be grouped into the following categories.

2.3.1 Terms Created by Yovhannēs by Calquing them from Latin

1. մակդրական (165) – “adjectivum” (Pr. II.60, Petrus 219, 220, 833, 1031)88;

2. գոյացական (165) – “substantivum” (Petrus 766);

3. սեր հաւասար (168) – “genus commune” (Petrus 325);

4. ցուցական դերանուն (173) – “pronomen demonstrativum” (Pr. XII.577, Petrus 629);

5. վերաբերական դերանուն (173) – “pronomen relativum” (Pr. XII.577, Petrus 641)89;

6. ազգական դերանուն (173) – “pronomen gentile” (Petrus 641);

7. ստացական դերանուն (173) = cf. Dion. 29.16–17 – κτητική (68.4) – “pronomen possessivum” (Pr. XII.581, Petrus 629);

8. բայածականք (խնդրեն տրական անգումն… «ինձ գովելի» (197), “verbal [noun]s require the dative case… ‘praiseworthy for me’ ” – “verbalia (… construuntur cum dativo casu... ‘laudabilis’)” (Petrus 1026)90;

9. անցեալ անկատար, անցեալ կատարեալ, անցեալ գերակատար (177), “past imperfect, past perfect, past pluperfect” – “praeteritum imperfectum, praeteritum perfectum, praeteritum plusquamperfectum” (Pr. VIII.405, Petrus 488)91;

10. կերպ բային (177) – “modus verbi” (Pr. VIII.406, Petrus 451)92;

11. սեր բային (176) – “genus verbi” (Petrus 455)93;

12. ցուցական (177) – “indicativus” (Pr. VIII.406, Petrus 523)94;

13. բայք առնողականք (179) – “verbum activum” (Petrus 505), cf. Dion. 22.24 ներգործական = ἐνέργητικός (45.1);

14. անձնական բայք (180) – “personale verbum” (Petrus 874);

15. անանձնական բայք (180) – “impersonale verbum” (Petrus 505);

16. գոյացական բայք (200, 206, 208) – “verbum substantivum” (Pr. VIII.414, Petrus, 1017);

17. կոչնական բայք (200, 208) – “verbum vocativum” (Petrus 507);

18. անգումն (passim) – “casus” (Pr. 57, Petrus passim)95;

19. խնդրել զսեռական / զտրական / զհայցական / զառաքական անգումն (179–180, 195, 197), “to require the genitive/dative/accusative/ ‘sending’ case” – “verba… genetivum exigunt casum” (Pr. 159), “casum exigere” (Petrus passim, e.g. 963, 1055, 1056), the “sending” (առաքական) case was added by the translator of Dionysius after the dative (Dion. 17.18) for the Armenian instrumental case,96 since the Greek dative has such a function. In K‘r. nets‘i’s work, the “sending” case combines the Armenian ablative and instrumental cases, and he offers examples of both (197–198);

20. կառավարել զանգումն (189), “to govern a case,” կառավարութիւն անգմանց (195), “government of cases” – “nomen regit adiectivum… adiectivum regitur a substantivo… substantivum regit adiectivum” (Petrus 1051);

21. կատարեալ շարամանութիւն (198), “perfect construction” – “perfecta constructio” (Pr. XVIII.270, Petrus 648);

22. անկատար բան (198), “imperfect utterance” – “imperfecta oratio” (Pr. XVII.116, Petrus 220);

23. ոչ անցողաբար (199) – “intransitive” (Petrus 874);

24. ձևական շարամանութիւն (206) – “constructio figurativa” (Petrus 902).

2.3.2 Terms Transliterated by Yovhannēs

In addition to փրօլեմսիս, սէլէմսիս, սիմթոսիս, զէօմայ, and անտիթոզիս (examples mentioned above), the following words are also transliterated: “gerundium” (Pr. VIII.410, Petrus 497) – ջերունիդական (178), “supinum” (Pr. VIII.410, Petrus 503) – ջերունդիական (178), “dialecticus” (Petrus 859) – դիալեկտիկոս (193).

2.3.3. Passages More or less Accurately Translated from Latin

1. Հետևին անուանն վեց՝ տեսակք, սերք, թիւք, ձևք, հոլովք, անկումն (164, “Six (accidents) accompany (lit. follow) the noun: species, genders, numbers, forms, declensions, and cases”) – “Accidunt igitur nomini quinque: species, genus, numerus, figura, casus” (Pr. II.57).

2. Մակդրական է, որ յաւելեալ լինի ի վերայ իսկականին (165), “Adjective is what is added to the essential” – “Adiectivum est, quod adicitur propriis…” (Pr. II.60).

3. Գերադրական... Աքիլևս է զօրաւորագոյն ևս յունաց, այսինքն վերադրի քան զամենայն յոյնս (167–8), “Superlative… Achilles is the strongest of Greeks, that is he is put higher than all Greeks” – “Fortissimus Graiorum Achilles… sed superlativus multo alios excellere significat” (Pr. III.86).

4. Հետևին բային ութ, այսինքն՝ սերք, ժամանակ, կերպ, տեսակ, ձևք, լծորդութիւն, դէմք, թիւք (176), “Eight (accidents) accompany (lit. follow) the verb,97 that is voices, tense, mood, species, forms, conjugation, person, numbers”) – “Verbo accidunt octo: significatio sive genus, tempus, modus, species, figura, coniugatio et persona cum numero” (Pr. VIII.369).

5. Արդ սերք բային է որակութիւն իմն կազմեալ ի ձայնական աւարտմանէն և ի բնական նշանակութենէն (176), “Now the voices of the verb are a certain quality fashioned by a word (lit. sound) ending and natural meaning” – “Est igitur genus verbi qualitas verborum contracta ex terminatione et significatione (Petrus 455).

6. Են սերք բային հինգ՝ առնողական, կրողական, չեզոքական, հաւասարական, չեզո­քա­կան-կրողական (176), “The voices of the verb are five: active, passive, neutral, common (lit. equal), neutral-passive”) – “Nam cum quinque sint significationes, id est activa, neutra, passiva, communis, deponens” (Pr. XI.564).

7. Չեզոքական է, որոյ գործն նշանակէ առնողական կերպիւ, այլ ոչ անցողական (176), “The neutral [voice] is which signifies action in an active form, but not transitive” – “Neutrum vero genus est qualitas desinendi in o et significandi aliquid quod non sit actio transiens in homines” (Petrus 456).

8. Հաւասարական է, որ միով ձայնիւ նշանակէ զառնելն և զկրելն (176), “The common [voice] is which signifies activity and passivity with the same word” – “Commune vero genus est qualitas desinendi in or et significandi utrumque, scilicet, actionem et passionem” (Petrus 456).

9. Ցուցականք են, որ ցուցանեն զժամանակ, զդէմս և զթիւ (177), “The indicative [verbs] are those which indicate tense, person and number” – “Modi, primus quorum dicitur indicativus, quo, scilicet, indicamus temporum varietatem… vel ab aliis quod fit voces secunde et tercie persone” (Petrus 523–524).

10. Ըղձական կերպ... մակար թէ կու սիրէի (177–8), “Optative mood… would that I loved!” – “Optativus… utinam…” (Pr. VIII.407). The interjection makar in Middle Armenian was borrowed from the late Greek μακάρι.98

11. Տեսակ բայից են երկու՝ նախագաղա­փար և ածանցական99։ Նախագաղափար, հի­զան կարդամ, և ածանցական, որպէս կար­դացնեմ, վազեմ-վազեցնեմ, դատեմ-ենթադատեմ (178), “There are two species of the verb: primitive and derivative; primitive, as ‘I read,’ and derivative, as ‘I cause to read,’ ‘I run – I cause to run, I judge – I express’100” – “Species sunt verborum duae, primitiva et derivativa… est igitur primitiva, quae primam positionem ab ipsa natura accepit, ut lego, ferveo…; derivativa, quae a positivis derivantur, ut lecturio, fervesco…” (Pr. VIII.427).

12. Ձևք բային են երեք՝ պարզ, բարդ, յարաբարդ։ Պարզ՝ որկէն եմ, բարդ հիկէն գրեմ, յարաբարդ որբար սրբագրեմ (178), “There are three forms of the verb: simple, compound and super-compound. Simple, as ‘I am,’ compound, as ‘I write,’ super-compound, as ‘I correct (lit. write clean)’101” – “Figura quoque accidit verbo, quomodo nomini. Alia enim verborum sunt simplicia, ut cupio, taceo, alia composita, ut concupio, conticeo, alia decomposita, id est a compositis derivata, ut concupisco, conticesco” (Pr. VIII.434).

13. Առաջին [դէմք] որ խօսի, երկրորդ է, ընդ որում խօսի, երրորդ է, յորմէ խօսի (179), “The first person is the one who speaks, the second is to whom one speaks, the third is of whom one speaks” – “Prima persona praeponitur aliis, quia ipsa loquitur et per eam ostenditur et secunda, ad quam loquitur, et tertia, de qua loquitur” (Pr. VIII.423).

14. Բայք ոմանք անկանոնք (179), “Some verbs are irregular.” An example of a suppletive verb is offered: կու ուտեմ, “I eat” (Middle Armenian present form), կերա “I ate” – “Irregularium vel inequalium declinatio” (Petrus 514, with the example “fero… tuli”).

15. Ընդունելութիւն է մասն բանի հոլովական, որ լինի առեալ փոխանակ բայի, ուստի և ածանցի իսկ, ունելով սերք և անգումն ըստ օրինակի անուան, զժամանակս և զնշանակութիւնս ի բայէն (183), “Participle is a declinable part of speech, which is taken instead of the verb, from which it derives, having gender and case like the noun, tense and significance102 from the verb” – “Participium est igitur pars orationis, quae pro verbo accipitur, ex quo et derivatur naturaliter, genus et casum habens ad similitudinem nominis et accidentia verbo absque discretione personarum et modorum... accidunt autem participio sex: genus, casus, significatio, tempus, numerus, figura” (Pr. XI.552).

16. Ասէ Պրիսիանոս, թէ ոչինչ բան է կատարեալ թարց բայի (191), “Priscianus says that no utterance is complete without a verb” – “Primo loco nomen, secundo verbum posuerunt, quippe cum nulla oratio sine iis completur” (Pr. XVII.116).

17. Գոյացականքն և մակադրականքն պարտին համաձայնիլ103 ի յերիս պատահմունս, այսինքն ի սերս, ի թիւս և ի յանկմունս (192), “Substantives and adjectives must agree in three accidents, that is in gender, in number and in case” – “Dicuntur accidentia nomini casus et numerus” (Petrus 211).

18. Շարամանութիւն է յարմար շարակարգութիւն ասութեանց (198), “Construction is the fitting arrangement of phrases” – “Constructio itaque est congrua dictionum ordinatio” (Petrus 832).

19. Ի կատարեալ շարամանութեանց ոմն է անցողական և ոմն ոչ անցողական, և ոմն անդրայշրջական (199), “Of complete constructions, one is transitive, one intransitive, and one reciprocal” – “Constructionum autem alia transitiva, alia intransitiva, alia recirpoca” (Petrus 897).

20. Արդ անցողական շարամանութիւն է, ի յոր առնումն և կրումն բանին անցանէ ի մի դիմէն ի միւսն, հիպէս «Պետրոս ընթեռնու զԵսային» (199), “Now transitive construction is [that] in which the activity and passivity of the utterance passes from one person to another, as ‘Peter reads Isaiah’ ” – “Transitiva vero constructio est quando fit transitus de una persona in aliam, ut ‘Socrates legit Vergilium’ ” (Petrus 898).

21. Ոչ անցողական շարամանութիւն է, որ առնումն և կրումն ոչ անցանի ի մի դիմէն ի միւսն, որզան «Սոկրատէս ընթեռնու» (199), “Intransitive construction is [that] in which the activity and passivity does not pass from one person to another, as ‘Socrates reads’ ” – Intransitiva constructio est in qua non fit transitus de una persona in aliam, ut ‘Priscianus legit’ (Petrus 898).

22. Իսկ անդրանցական շարամանութիւն է այն, ի յոր նոյն անձն ցուցանէ առնել և կրել, հիզան «ես կու սիրեմ զիս, դու կու սիրես զքեզ, նա կու սիրէ զինքն» (199), “While reciprocal construction is in which the same person shows activity and passivity, as ‘I love myself, you love yourself, he loves himself’ ” – “Reciproca vero constructio est in qua ostenditur aliqua res in se ipsam agere, ut ‘Socrates diligit se’ ” (Petrus 899).

23. Բաղադրեալ բանիցն մին մասն կոչի նախընթաց, և միւսն հետևեալ (199, “One part of compound utterances is called antecedent, the other consequent”) – “Relatio quandoque fit ad antecedens, quandoque ad consequens” (Petrus 910).

24. Բայք կոչնականք... ես կու կոչիմ արդար (200), “Vocative verbs… I am called just” – “Vocativa, ut Priscianus: vocor, nominor, nuncupor, appellor” (Pr. VIII.144).

25. Սիլեմսիս է զանազան ասութեանց միով բայիւ համազոյգ յղութիւն (207), “The syllempsis is a collecting of different phrases united with one verb” – “Silemsis vero est diversarum clausularum per unum verbum conglutinata conceptio” (Petrus 1004). Here յղութիւն, “conception, pregnancy,” is used as a semantic calque of “conceptio” in the sense of “grasp, collecting.”

26. Առաջին դէմն յղանա զառաջին և զերկրորդ դէմն, հիպէս «ես և դու և նա ընթեռնումք»… երկրորդ դէմն յղանա զերրորդ դէմն ներքո բայի երկրորդ դիմացն, որ այսպէս. «դու և նա ընթեռնոյք» (207), “The first person collects (lit. conceives) the first and the second and the third person, as ‘I and you and he [we] read’... the second person collects (lit. conceives) the third person under the verb in second person, as ‘you and he [you] read’ ” – “Concipit autem prima persona secundam et terciam... Prima concipit secundam ut ‘Ego et tu legimus’… prima persona concipit terciam ut ‘Ego et ille legimus’… ‘Tu et ille legitis’. Potest enim secunda persona concipere terciam” (Petrus 998).

These passages listed above are the moments in K‘r. nets‘i’s grammatical work that I could trace to Priscianus’ and Petrus Helias’ grammatical works. Based on these passages, I can make the following observations:

a) All the 24 grammatical terms (2.3.1) calqued by Yovhannēs from Priscianus are also found in Petrus Helias’ text. As far as the phrases translated from Latin are concerned, the origins of twelve of them are found in Priscianus and 14 in Petrus Helias. So K‘ṛnets‘i’s dependence on Petrus Helias is stronger than had been previously noticed, but this does not mean that he used Priscianus through the mediation of Petrus, as Levon Khachikyan has argued.104

Taking into consideration the parallels with Sponcius Provincialis (section 2.2), one can assume that Yovhannēs drew information from various sources, as he himself writes in his colophon cited above: “from Armenians and Latins, [small] bits from many authors and grammarians.”105 Bartholomew of Podio could have brought a book from Italy containing excerpts from Priscianus and other grammarians, and Yovhannēs could have used it as a source.

b) K‘ṛnets‘i’s dependence on Latin sources is more extensive than noted by previous scholarship. The influence of Latin grammarians promoted Armenian grammatical theory to a more advanced stage in comparison to the Dionysian tradition. K‘ṛnets‘i covered more aspects of the language and drew a more realistic picture of Classical Armenian, while also reflecting some elements of Middle Armenian. K‘ṛnets‘i singled out substantives and adjectives from the general notion of “noun” (2.3.1.1–2), introduced the categories of transitive and intransitive verbs (2.3.1.12–13), irregular verbs (2.3.3.14), case government (2.3.1.19–20) and agreement (2.3.3.17), of complex sentences (2.3.3.23), the notion that the participle shares features both with the noun and the verb (2.3.3.15), and the explanation of the three persons of the verb (2.3.3.13).

c) Some grammatical terms used by K‘ṛnets‘i are still in use today and are common in the modern Armenian grammatical works.106 To give examples, the terms for “verbal nouns”107 (2.3.1.8), “past imperfect” and “past perfect” (2.3.1.9), verbal “modes” (2.3.11.10) and “voices” (2.3.1.11), the “neutral voice” (2.3.3.6–7), “derivative verbs” (containing prefixes and suffixes – 2.3.3.11), “irregular verbs” (2.3.3.14) go back to K‘r. nets‘i’s grammar book.

3. The Afterlife of Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i’s Grammatical Work

For a long time, Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i’s grammatical work remained inside the milieu of Armenian unitors and was unknown to wider learned circles. This explains why later grammarians, such as Ar. ak‘el Siwnets‘i in the first quarter of the fifteenth century and Dawit‘ Zeyt‘unts‘i in late sixteenth century were not aware of K‘ṛnets‘i’s work and wrote new commentaries on the grammar book of Dionysius Thrax. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, many grammatical works appeared that show acquaintance with K‘ṛnets‘i’s work.108 Avagyan contends that Priscianus’ work and its commentaries were K‘ṛnets‘i’s sources, especially regarding questions of syntax. In this respect, K‘r. nets‘i’s grammar is close to several so-called “Grecizing-Latinizing grammars” (հունա-լատինատիպ) written in the eighteenth century.109 Avagyan mentions K‘ṛnets‘i’s influence on the description of nominal and pronominal declensions, the semantic categories of pronouns and the detailed conception of the verbal voices and the Middle Armenian passive suffix ui (ուի/վի). Avagyan has also singled out K‘ṛnets‘i’s influence, to name but a few, on the conjugations of the verb, the more detailed characterization of the participle, the conception of verbs governing certain cases, and other syntactic features.110 The recurrence of K‘ṛnets‘i’s views on grammar in the eighteenth century is a research topic which could be fruitfully studied in the future.

Conclusion

The Armenian Catholic convert Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i, head of the unitorian K‘ṛna monastery in Nakhijewan between 1333 and 1347, became an active agent of the monastery’s cultural activity. He wrote a work On Grammar probably in the 1340s. It partly continues the Armenian grammatical tradition which originated in the late fifth century with the translation of Dionysius Thrax’s Art of Grammar from Greek and also shows the influence of the Latin tradition. As has been illustrated with new evidence, K‘ṛnets‘i’s grammar shows numerous verbal parallels with Priscian’s sixth-century Institutiones grammaticae and Petrus Helias’ twelfth-century commentary Summa super Priscianum on Priscian’s work. The main bulk of new terms and concepts, as well as whole definitions, goes back to these sources. A comparison with other Latin sources might reveal more parallels. Compared to the Armenian version of Dionysius Thrax and its Armenian commentaries, K‘ṛnets‘i’s grammar book shows more “real” features of the Armenian language, i.e. categories that were not artificially borrowed from Greek and were non-existent in Armenian. The most important novelty of K‘ṛnets‘i’s grammar is the sections on syntax. Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i’s grammatical work exerted a considerable influence on several grammars of Latinizing Armenian composed in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.

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Minasyan, “Yovhannēs Orotnets‘i, Life and Works.” Bulletin of Yerevan University. Armenian Studies 17, no. 2 (2015): 3–19.

Muradyan, Arusyak. Հունաբան դպրոցը և նրա դերը հայ քերականական տերմինաբանու­թյան ստեղծման գործոմ [The Hellenizing school and its role in the creation of the Armenian grammatical terminology). Yerevan: Armenian Academy of Sciences Press, 1971.

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Seidler, Martin. Römische Liturgien in Armenischen Ordensgemeinschaften. Münster: LIT Verlag, 2022.

Seidler, Martin. “Medieval Armenian Congregations in Union with Rome.” In Monastic Life in the Armenian Church: Glorious Past. Ecumenical Reconsideration, edited by Jasmin Dum Tragut, and Dietmar Winkler, 148–57. Münster: LIT Verlag, 2019.

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APPENDIX

Works and Translations by the fratres unitores: Published Texts

1. Ritual Books

Պրէվիար որ է ժամագիրք սրբազան կարգին Եղբարց Քարոզողաց [Breviarium sacri ordinis ff. praedicatorum]. Venice: Antonio Bortoli, 1714.

Ժամագիրք սրբուհւոյ կուսին Մարիամու Աստուածածնին [Officium sanctae virginis Mariae]. Venice: Antonio Bortoli, 1706.

Van Den Oudenrijn Marcus Antonius, ed. Կանոն սրբոյ Դօմինիկոսի խոսփովանոդին [Das Offizium des heiligen Dominicus des Bekenners im Brevier des “Fratres Unitores” von Ostarmenien. Ein Beitrag zur Missions und Liturgiegeschichte desvierzehnten]. Rome: Institutum Historicum FF. Praedicatorum, 1935.

2. Canon Law

Oudenrijn, Marcus Antonius van den, ed. Les Constitutions des Frères Arméniens de S. Basile en Italie. Rome: Instituto Orientale, 1940.

3. Works by Thomas Aquinas

Oudenrijn, Marcus Antonius van den, ed. Eine alte armenische Übersetzung der Tertia Pars der Theologischen Summa des Hl. Thomas von Aquin: Einleitung nebst Textproben aus den Hss Paris Bibl. Naz. Arm. Bern: A. Francke Ag. Verlag, 1955.

Oudenrijn, Marcus Antonius van den, ed., John of Swineford, compiler. Der Traktat Jalags arakinoutheanc hogiojn. Von den Tugenden der Seele: ein armenisches Exzerpt aus der Prima Secundae der Summa Theologica des Hlg. Thomas von Aquin. Fribourg: Librairie de I’Universite, 1942.

Oudenrijn, Marcus Antonius van den. “La version arménienne du supplementum ad tertiam partem Summae Theologicae.” Angelicum 10, no. 1 (1933): 3–23.

Oudenrijn, Marcus Antonius van den. “Traductions arménienne du la Somme Théologique.” Mekhitar, numéro special de la Revue arménienne Pazmaveb (1949): 313–55.

4. A Work Attributed to Albert the Great

Համառօտութիւն աստուածաբանութեան Մեծին Ալպերտի [Compendium theologiae Alberti Magni]. Venice: Antonio Bortoli, 1715.111

Oudenrijn, Marcus Antonius van den. “Un florilège arménien de sentences attribuées à Albert le Grand.” Orientalia 7 (1938): 118–26.

5. Works by Peter of Aragon

Վասն եւթն մահու չափ մեղացն [De septem peccatibus mortalibus]. In Bartholomew and Peter, Խրատականք և հոգեշահք քարոզք [Instructive and salutary sermons]. Venice: publisher not indicated, 1704, 142–270.

Գիրք առաքինութեանց [Liber de virtutibus]. In Peter of Aragon, Book of Virtues, 1–643. Venice: Demetrios T‘eodoseants‘, 1772.

Յաղագս ութից երանութեանց [De octo beatudinibus]. In Peter of Aragon, Book of Virtues, 644–714. Venice: Demetrios T‘eodoseants‘, 1772.

Գիրք մոլութեանց [De vitiis]. In Peter of Aragon, Book of Vices, 1–456. Venice: Demetrios T‘eodoseants‘, 1773.

Յաղագս պահպանութեան հինգ զգայութեանց [De quinque sensum custodia]. In Peter of Aragon, Book of Vices, 457–66. Venice: Demetrios T‘eodoseants‘, 1773.

Յաղագս պահպանման լեզուի [De custodia linguae]. In Peter of Aragon, Book of Vices, 467–73. Venice: Demetrios T‘eodoseants‘, 1773.

Հաւաքումն յաղագս տասն պատուիրանացն [Compilatio de decem praeceptis]. In Peter of Aragon, Book of Vices, 474–518. Venice: Demeter T‘eodoseants‘, 1773.

6. Works by Bartholomew of Podio

Յաղագս հնգից ընդհանրից [De quinque communibus vocibus]. In Arevshatyan, The Armenian Legacy of Bartholomew of Bologna, 73–110.

Sermons on Confession. In Խրատականք և հոգեշահք քարոզք [Instructive and salutary sermons]. Venice: publisher not indicated, 1704, 9–141.

Bartholomew of Bologna, Dialectica, critical text by Tigran Sirunyan (forthcoming).

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1. 1 The transliteration of Armenian names follows the Library of Congress Armenian Romanization Table (https://www.loc.gov/catdir/cpso/romanization/armenian.pdf, last accessed Jan 10, 2025). The Mss I refer to from the collection of Matenadaran (Mesrop Mashtots Institute of Ancient Manuscripts in Yerevan) start with M followed by shelf numbers. The numbers of Armenian manuscripts in the collections of the congregation of Mekhitharists are preceded by the acronyms V (Venice, San Lazzaro) and W (Vienna). The acronym J represents the collection in the Saint James monastery in Jerusalem.

2. 2 In 1921, this Armenian province was annexed to Azerbaijan.

3. 3 The majority of the inhabitants of several villages in this province adopted the Catholic faith, Khachikyan, “The Armenian Princedom of Artaz,” 83, footnote 2.

4. 4 Stopka, Armenia Christiana, 205–6.

5. 5 In the fifteenth century, he also began to be referred to as Bartholomew of Bologna or Parvus as a result of a confusion with his namesake, see Casella, Bartolomeo de Podio (da Bologna), 75, n. 3. In Armenian manuscripts he figures as “bishop of Maragha” (Ms M3372, copied in 1761, fol. 356r), “Frank bishop” (M2515, copied in 1323, fol. 82r), “Frank bishop of Maragha” (Ms W312, copied in 1329, fol. 13r), “Latin bishop” (Ms J815, copied in 1325), “saint bishop Lord Bartholomew” (Ms V12, copied in 1332, fol. 188r). Frank/Fr. ank is the denomination of Westerners, especially Catholic French and Italians. In Armenian scholarly literature, he is usually called Bartholomew of Maragha.

6. 6 Joannes Anglus, according to Oudenrijn, Linguae haicanae scriptores, 24, 194, 195.

7. 7 Khachikyan, Introduction to Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i On Grammar, 16–51.

8. 8 Khachikyan, “The Armenian Princedom of Artaz,” 204–7.

9. 9 Tsaghikyan, “Catholic Preaching in Armenia,” 51–53.

10. 10 La Porta, “Armeno-Latin Intellectual Exchange in the Fourteenth Century,” 274, 285–93.

11. 11 Chapter 33 of one of such documents, the Գիրք ուղղափառաց (Libro dei Ortodossi) by Mkhit‘ar Aperanec‘i written in 1410, was recently published, with a study and Italian translation, see Alpi, “Il dibattito.”

12. 12 Bartholomew’s activity in Maragha, including the founding of the school of K‘ṛna and the related events, are known from the work of an unitorian author Mkhit‘ar Aperanec‘i, Oudenrijn, Linguae haicanae scriptores, 216–28.

13. 13 On his life, see Tsaghikyan, “Catholic Preaching in Armenia,” 53–57.

14. 14 Oudenrijn, Linguae haicanae scriptores, 195.

15. 15 Zarphanalean, History of Armenian Literature, 194–212: «Միաբանասիրաց դպրոց» (The School of the Union Supporters); Abeghyan, Երկեր (Works), vol. IV, 403–4: «Ունիթոռական գրականություն և լատինաբան աղճատ հայերեն» (The Literature of the Unitors and the Distorted Latinizing Armenian); Ter-Vardanyan, «Ունիթորություն» (The Unitorian Movement); Oudenrijn, Linguae haicanae scriptores. This book contains a brief history of the fratres unitores (19–72) and a comprehensive bibliography (mentioning editions and manuscripts) of their literary production: Armenian-Dominican sacred books (73–122), sermons and sermonaries (123–72), theological writings (173–244), and “De fratribus armenis citra Mare consistentibus” (245–95). A bibliography (manuscripts and editions) of writings by Albert the Great and Bartholomew of Bologna can be found in Anasyan, Armenian Bibliography, 5th-17th cc., vol. 1, 388–402, vol. 2, 1284–1320.

16. 16 Seidler, “Medieval Armenian Congregations in Union with Rome,” 153. A considerable Armenian population lived in Kaffa, which was under Genoese rule at the time. For this reason, the unitores not only built monasteries in Armenia and Georgia but also crossed the Black Sea and founded a public university (“universale studiorum collegium”) in Kaffa, Khachikyan, Introduction to Yovhannēs K‘r. nets‘i, On Grammar, 42. The source for this is Clemens Galanus, Conciliatio, vol. 1, 523. The chapters “De progressibus fratrum praedicatorum in reducendis ad Catholicam fidem Armenis” (508–26) and “De Armeniorum episcopis ex Ordine fratrum praedicatorum assumptis” (527–531) are important sources for the fratres unitores.

17. 17 Seidler, “Medieval Armenian Congregations in Union with Rome,” 152.

18. 18 La Porta, “Armeno-Latin Intellectual Exchange in the Fourteenth Century,” 281.

19. 19 For an overview of the translations in chronological order see Stopka, Armenia Christiana, 215–21.

20. 20 See in detail, Seidler, Römische Liturgien.

21. 21 Khachikyan, Introduction to Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i, On Grammar, 35–38.

22. 22 For the existing editions, see Appendix.

23. 23 Oudenrijn, Linguae haicanae scriptores.

24. 24 Khachikyan, Introduction to Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i, On Grammar, 33.

25. 25 Manuscript colophons mention him as the translator of Bartholomew’s, Peter of Aragon’s and John of Swinford’s works. On the other hand, some translations are attributed to Peter of Aragon and to Bartholomew. Peter and Yakob cooperated in translating other texts.

26. 26 Oudenrijn, Linguae haicanae scriptores, 130 (Armenian text), 133 (Latin translation).

27. 27 Minasyan, “Yovhannēs Orotnets‘i,” 16.

28. 28 His Book of Questions is characterized as a real Summa, see Arevshatyan, “Grigor Tat‘ewats‘i and his Book of Questions,” 1.

29. 29 The Hellenizing school’s translations of mainly scholarly and theological works were made roughly speaking from the late fifth to the early eighth centuries, and they bear considerable Greek influence. Many new words (among them terms) were coined, especially words with newly invented prefixes which corresponded to the Greek ἀντι-, συν-, περι, προσ-, etc. The use of such prefixes is the most striking feature of the Hellenizing translations, see Weitenberg, “Hellenophile Syntactic Elements in Armenian Texts”; Calzolari, “L’école hellenisante. Les circonstances”; Calzolari, “Les traductions Arméniennes de l’École hellénizante”; Tinti, “Problematizing the Greek Influence on Armenian Texts”; Muradyan, Grecisms in Ancient Armenian, 215–24, and Appendix 3: “Latinizing Armenian and its Relation to Hellenizing Armenian.”

30. 30 Many of them were published in Europe, especially in Venice, Rome, Amsterdam, Marseille, Livorno and elsewhere.

31. 31 Achaṛyan, History of Armenian Language, 311; J̌ ahukyan, History of the Grammar of Grabar, 8.

32. 32 Zarphanalean, History of Armenian Literature, 45–55; Hambardzumyan, History of Latinizing Armenian, 27, 85.

33. 33 Many of Esayi Nch‘ets‘i’s students, after attending classes in monasteries in which Latin bishops resided, became Franciscans or Dominicans, Stopka, Armenia Christiana, 212–13.

34. 34 Cowe, “The Role of Priscian’s Institutiones Grammaticae,” 96.

35. 35 La Porta, “Armeno-Latin Intellectual Exchange in the Fourteenth Century,” 280; Stopka, Armenia Christiana, 214.

36. 36 It reveals that in 1337 fra Juan (John), the Englishman from the village of Swinford and a member of the order of Dominical Preachers, copied a compendium of works on the soul and its virtues and abilities, which was translated by Yakob the Armenian.

37. 37 Khachikyan et al., Colophons of Armenian Manuscripts, 283: ի Վերին վանքս Քռնոյ, ընդ հովանեաւ Սուրբ Աստուածածնին, որոյ առաջնորդ էր՝ հոգաբարձու Յոհան վարդապետն, որ մականուն կոչի Քռնեցի, որոյ անուն շինեցին զսուրբ ուխտս աստուածասէր եւ բարեպաշտ պարոն Գորգն եւ ամուսինն իւր՝ տիկին Էլթիկն: Եւ սոքայ երեքեանն Յոհան վարդապետն եւ պարոն Գէորգն եւ տիկին Էլթիկն ինքնայօժար կամօք նուիրեցին զվանս կարգին քարոզողաց Սրբոյն Դօմինկիոսի՝ տուրք յաւիտենական։ Արդ, վերոյասացեալ վարդապետն Յոհան եղեւ պատճառ բազում օգտութեան եւ ժողովեաց աստ վարդապետք ի լատինացւոց եւ ի հայոց, տածելով զանմենեսեան ըստ հոգւոյ եւ ըստ մարմնոյ եւ թարգմանեաց եւ թարգմանէ գիրս բազումս ոգեշահս եւ լուսաւորիչս... եւ եբեր ազգիս Հայոց զփրկական համբաւն եւ առաջնորդեաց արժանաւորացն մտանել ի հնազանդութիւն գերադրական Աթոռոյն Հռօմա.

38. 38 Oudenrijn, Linguae haicanae scriptores, 186. In addition to the MSs kept in Venice (V244, V681), Vienna (W263, W507) and Bzommar (90, 96) mentioned here, recently Sen Arevshatyan pointed to two MSs of Matenadaran, M5097 (14th c., 196r–213v) and M2183 (copied in 1662, fols. 433v–461r), see Arevshatyan, The Armenian Legacy of Bartholomew of Bologna, 25. The work also exists in MSs M3640 (14th c., 121r–150r), M842 (copied in 1738, 1r–142r) and M5375 (copied in 1841, 143v–164r).

39. 39 Casella, Bartolomeo de Podio (da Bologna), 124–25.

40. 40 Clemens Galanus, Conciliatio, vol. I, 510; Oudenrijn, Linguae haicanae scriptores, 177.

41. 41 Clemens Galanus, Conciliatio, vol. I, 509; Oudenrijn, Linguae haicanae scriptores, 191.

42. 42 Clemens Galanus, Conciliatio, vol. I, 522; Oudenrijn, Linguae haicanae scriptores, 192.

43. 43 Oudenrijn, Linguae haicanae scriptores, 189. He also mentions MSs M842 (1738, the whole MSs), J486 (undated, 320–442), J574 (copied in 1718, 505–78r) and J1357 (copied in 1735, the whole MS). According to catalogues, all these MSs contain the same colophon, as the MS M3640.

44. 44 Arevshatyan, The Armenian Legacy of Bartholomew of Bologna, 25.

45. 45 Cited in Clemens Galanus, Conciliatio, vol. I, 513–22: “Epistola ad fratres unitos Armeniae,” Oudenrijn, Linguae haicanae scriptores, 203. Another letter written by Bartholomew in Armenian and stylistically revised by Yovhannēs is mentioned by Clemens Galanus (ibid., 510), see also Oudenrijn, Linguae haicanae scriptores, 176: “Epistola convocatoria ad synodum in conventu Qr. nayensi habendam (1330)”; Casella, Bartolomeo de Podio (da Bologna), 122.

46. 46 This title is on the title-page of the edition. A longer title preceding the text reads: Համառօտ հաւաքումն յաղագս քերականին (A Short Compendium on Grammar), Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i, On Grammar, 157.

47. 47 This MS contains logical works of other unitores, but also David the Invincible’s Definitions of Philosophy, a Neoplatonic work translated from Greek in the late 6th c.

48. 48 Dashian, Catalog, 719.

49. 49 Oudenrijn, Linguae haicanae scriptores, 205. Oudenrijn’s opinion is repeated by Stopka with the following addition: “using examples from Armenian and Latin authors,” Armenia Christiana, 216–17. Casella too is unaware of the edition and the study of the grammatical work and repeats the same information, Bartolomeo de Podio (da Bologna), 123 (although a reference to the edition is found ibid., 231).

50. 50 Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i, On Grammar, 221: Ես Ֆրա Յոհան՝ մականուն կոչեցեալ Քռնեցի, համառօտ հաւաքեցի ի հայոց և լատինացոց զսակաւս ի բազում շարագրաց և ի քերթողաց, տալով դուռն և ճանապարհ նորամարզիցն՝ մտանել և ընթանալ ի քաղաքս իմաստից, զի ի հմտութենէ ելանել ի մակացութիւնս, և փոքրագունակ արուեստիւս՝ առ արհեստից արհեստն, որ է մայր և օթևանք և հանգիստ ընթերցելոցն առ խելս և իմաստութիւնս, իբր խթանաւ ընդոստեալ և ի դանդաչմանէ թմրութեանցն զարդեալ, զի ի ճանաչումն ճշմարտին և բարոյն եկեսցեն, որ է կատարումն բանականին.

51. 51 So Cowe calls it “eclectic hybrid,” Cowe, “The Role of Priscian’s Institutiones Grammaticae,” 96.

52. 52 Adonts‘, Dionysius the Thrax. This is regarded as the first translation of the so-called Hellenizing School in old Armenian literature (see above and footnote 29). More importantly, the translation of the Dionysian Ars grammatica initiated the Armenian literature on grammar. This translation created the bulk of the grammatical terminology which was used over the course of centuries and remains in use today. This translation also established the principles of how to coin an abstract and scientific lexicon in general. The most important Armenian grammatical terms (like their Latin counterparts) were calqued from Greek. The Armenian version of Dionysius’ grammatical work followed the word-order and syntax of the Greek original, Weitenberg, “Greek Influence in Early Armenian Linguistics.”

53. 53 More precisely, between ca. 450 and the early 480s. There is also a later dating, namely the first half of the sixth century. The controversy concerning the process of dating the earliest translations is summarized in Muradyan, The Creation of the Armenian Grammatical Terminology, 76–111.

54. 54 Avagyan, Introduction to Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i On Grammar, 53, 69, 77, 79.

55. 55 Khachikyan, Introduction to Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i On Grammar, 48; Avagyan, Introduction to Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i On Grammar, 114.

56. 56 The citations from the text in question are followed by the page numbers of Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i, On Grammar, which is the only edition of the work.

57. 57 Avagyan, Introduction to Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i On Grammar, 58. Avagyan argues that K‘ṛnets‘i’s classification of the types of syllables resembles Priscian’s classification into six categories (ibid., 67–68).

58. 58 The anonymous translator of that work also adapted the Greek model to Armenian grammar, e.g. by introducing phonetical features and grammatical categories alien to Armenian (short and long vowels, short and long syllables, grammatical gender, dual number). He created whole paradigms of artificial verbal forms for verbal tenses non-existent in Armenian, etc. He did, however, also manage to reflect some features of Classical Armenian.

59. 59 In Dionysius this title differs: “On Feet,” see Adonc‘, Dionysius the Thrax, 43.

60. 60 See the underlying theory in Alessandro Orengo’s paper in this Special Issue.

61. 61 Avagyan, Introduction to Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i, On Grammar, 69.

62. 62 The citations from Petrus’ commentary on Priscianus are followed by “Petrus” and the page numbers of Petrus Helias, Summa.

63. 63 The citations from Priscianus are followed by “Pr.” and the book and page numbers of Prisciani Institutionum I–XII & XIII–XVIII.

64. 64 Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i, On Grammar, 169.

65. 65 Most of them are used throughout the text, so references to pages do not seem reasonable.

66. 66 The references to Armenian Dionysius are “Dion.” followed by page and line numbers of Adonts‘, Dionysius the Thrax.

67. 67 The references to Greek Dionysius are indications of page and line numbers in Dionysius Thrax. Ars grammatica.

68. 68 This term is made of the same components as նախդիր (prefix նախ- and root դիր/դր), with the addition of the suffix -ութիւն.

69. 69 Those meaning “gender” (սեր), “masculine” (արական), “feminine” (իգական), “neuter (gender)” (չեզոք), “number” (թիւ), “nominative” (ուղղական), “genitive” (սեռական), “dative” (տրական), “accusative” (հայցական) “person” (դէմք), “tense” (ամանակ/ժամանակ), “present” (ներկայ), “future” (ապառնի), “past” (անցեալ) are the same.

70. 70 This term is borrowed from the Greek ἐπίκοινον.

71. 71 Yovhannes K‘ṛnets‘i, On Grammar, pp. 191 and 209.

72. 72 Sirunyan, “The Latin Archetypes.”

73. 73 Khachikyan had opined that the Armenian author either made use of both Priscianus and the commentary of Petrus Helias or even that he may have known Priscianus through the mediation Petrus, Khachikyan, Introduction to Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i, On Grammar, 48.

74. 74 Yovhannes K‘r. nets‘i, On Grammar, pp. 191 and 209.

75. 75 Sirunyan, “The Latin Archetypes,” 135.

76. 76 Corrected by the editor to անհոլով (“indeclinable”). Cf. the arguments against this correction, Sirunyan, “The Latin Archetypes,” 125–26.

77. 77 The replacement of “Aeneas” by “so-and-so” and “Virgil” and “Socrates” by biblical names (section 2.3.3, example 22) is consonant with the common practice in earlier Armenian translations from Greek, e.g. Ἀλέξανδρος ὁ καὶ Πάρις (38.1), replaced by “Eleazar, who is also Avaran” (Dion. 19.19–20). For more examples see Muradyan, “The Reflection of Foreign Proper Names.” This wasn’t an absolute rule; in example 3 (2.3.3) Achilles’ name is preserved in the Armenian text. As to “Socrates” in example 21 (instead of “Priscianus”), his name was used by Aristotle in logical examples both in the Categories and in On Interpretation, which were accurately translated into Armenian in the sixth century and incorporated into commentaries on them, see Muradyan, Topchyan, “Commentaries on Aristotle’s Categories and On Interpretation.” Such use of Socrates’ name is also found in other Armenian commentaries on Aristotle.

78. 78 Thurot, Extraits des manuscrits Latins, 357.

79. 79 առանց նախադասութեանց; the related նախադասելով (instrumental of the infinitive) was calqued from προτασσόμενα (Dion. 5.14). Above նախադասի was rendered with praeponitur.

80. 80 The translator confused the Latin adjective mutuus (the Latin phrase speaks of a “reciprocal relation”) and mutus (“mute”).

81. 81 Such syntax is explained by the influence of the twelfth-century logical theories; the woman is both Eve and Mary. Кneepkens, “‘Mulier qui damnavit’,” 3.

82. 82 Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i On Grammar, 157–58; Cowe, “The Role of Priscian’s Institutiones Grammaticae,” 98.

83. 83 Ibid., 99–100.

84. 84 Ibid., 101–8.

85. 85 Ibid., 110–12.

86. 86 Cowe, “The Role of Priscian’s Institutiones Grammaticae,” 110.

87. 87 Ibid., 114–17.

88. 88 Cf. մակդիր (Dion. 17.25), մակադրական (Dion. 18.15) – ἐπίθετον (33.1, 34.3).

89. 89 Cf. ցուցական (Dion. 18.3, 20.16) – (ὄνομα) δεικτικόν (33.3, 40.1); վերբերական (Dion. 18.2, 20.17) – (ὄνομα) ἀναφορικόν (33.3, 40.1). In Dionysius, these two species are the same species of the noun: “Anaphoric noun (called also… a demonstrative).”

90. 90 Dionysius too speaks about verbal nouns, but there is no indication of any case required by them: բայածական (Dion. 13.25, 16.3) – ῥηματικός (25.7, 29.3).

91. 91 Cf. յարաձգական, յարակայ, գերակատար, անորիշ (Dion. 22–24) – παρατατικόν/παρακείμενον, ὑπερσυντέλικον, ἀόριστον (53.2–3).

92. 92 Cf. խոնարհումն (Dion. 22.19) – ἔγκλισις (47.1).

93. 93 Cf. տրամադրութիւն (Dion. 22.23) = διάθεσις (47.1).

94. 94 Cf. սահմանական (Dion. 22.23) = ὁριστική (43.3).

95. 95 Cf. հոլով (Dion. 13.6) – πτῶσις (12.2). K‘r. nets‘i replaced the old հոլով (literally “circular motion, rolling”) by անգումն (lit. falling) calqued from Latin, and he used the term հոլով (164, 170, 188-190) to indicate various declensions, which was an innovation.

96. 96 Its name is an adjective deriving from the verb առաքել – “to send,” since “the dative” is followed by an explanation related to the verb ἐπιστέλλω – “to send” (ἡ δὲ δοτικὴ ἐπισταλτική, 31.7), see J̌ ahukyan, Grammatical and Orthographical Works, 69; Muradyan, The Creation of the Armenian Grammatical terminology, 247.

97. 97 Cf. a different translation in Cowe, “The Role of Priscian’s Institutiones Grammaticae,” 101: “Eight [factors] are associated with the verb.”

98. 98 Sophocles, Greek Lexicon, 727, translates “utinam! would that !” whereas Cowe (“The Role of Priscian’s Institutiones Grammaticae,” 104) follows the different interpretation of this word as a borrowing from Persian, see Ghazaryan, Avetisyan, Dictionary of Middle Armenian, 485.

99. 99 The same terms are in Dion. 23.5–6 = πρωτότυπον… παράγωγον (50.1).

100. 100 The first two verbs are causative (in Middle Armenian form), whereas the verb ենթադատեմ (the prefix ենթ- is added to its “primitive counterpart”) is absent from the dictionaries; it is related to Dion. 2.9–10 ըստ ենթադատութեան = καθ’ ὑπόκρισιν.

101. 101 In fact, in the examples եմ-գրեմ-սրբագրեմ, եմ is the present first-person singular of the verb of being, which coincides with the ending of գրեմ, so this one is labeled “compound,” whereas the “super-compound” սրբագրեմ is a compound proper, the second component of which coincides with գրեմ.

102. 102 This means voice, cf. “significatio sive genus” (Pr. VIII.369).

103. 103 This word (without terminological connotation) and the related abstract noun (համաձայնութիւն), adjective (համաձայն) and adverb (համաձայնապէս) are attested in early texts as calques of the Greek ὁμοφωνέω and the related words. Here, it is an important syntactic term, for which I have not managed to find a Latin equivalent in the available sources.

104. 104 Khachikyan, Introduction to Yovhannēs K‘r. nets‘i, On Grammar, 48.

105. 105 By “Armenians” he means the Armenian version of Dionysius and the Armenian commentaries on that text.

106. 106 In addition to all the terms listed above in section 1 (“Terms Created…”) (except those for “genus epichenum et dubium” and the infinitive) and in footnote 69.

107. 107 With some semantic shift, today it means “verbal adjectives.”

108. 108 They are mentioned above, in section 1. Of special interest among them are three books by the same author, two Armenian grammars published within two years (1674 and 1675), one in Armenian (its title page is in Armenian and Latin: Ioannes Agop sacerdos Armenus. Puritas linguae Armenicae), the other in Latin (Ioannes Agop sacerdos Armenus. Puritas Haigica seu Grammatica Armenica) and a Latin grammar in Armenian (its title page is in Armenian and Latin: Ioannes Agop sacerdos Armenus Constantipolitanus, Grammatica Latina).

109. 109 Avagyan, Introduction to Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i, On Grammar, 140. The characteristic “Grecizing-Latinizing grammars” belongs to J ̌ahukyan, History of the Grammar of Grabar, 120–74 (he examines works by four authors), who also called K‘ṛnets‘i’s work the precursor of the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Latinizing (լատինատիպ) grammars of Armenian, ibid., 291 (composed by Franciscus Rivola, Clemens Galanus, Yovhannēs Holov, and Oskan Erevants‘i). See also Hambardzumyan, History of Latinizing Armenian, 135.

110. 110 Avagyan, Introduction to Yovhannēs K‘ṛnets‘i, On Grammar, 146.

111. 111 Fr. Hugo Ripelin Argentoratensis (ca. 1210–ca. 1270) authored this work, but by the fourteenth century, it was already being attributed to others, in particular, to Albert the Great, Oudenrijn, Linguae haicanae scriptores, 199.

Translating Popular Wisdom into Learned Language and Practice:
Egbert of Liège’s Fecunda ratis and the Changing World of the Eleventh Century

Hiram Kümper

Historical Institute, University of Mannheim

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Hungarian Historical Review Volume 14 Issue 2 (2025): 186-213 DOI 10.38145/2025.2.186

This paper explores the Fecunda ratis, Egbert of Liège’s early eleventh-century didactic poem in Latin, as an example of the transformation of vernacular, orally transmitted wisdom into structured, literary pedagogy. Drawing on recent theoretical and philological research, it develops a typology of proverbial adaptation in Egbert’s work and analyzes the rhetorical and poetic strategies employed to integrate popular sayings into the moral and educational discourse of the cathedral school. In doing so, the study situates the Fecunda ratis within the broader context of the emerging homiletic and didactic culture of the eleventh century, highlighting its role in shaping the clerical ethos and institutional memory through the literary canonization of the popular voice.

Keywords: classical learning, Latin, vernacular, cathedral schools, Middle Ages

Egbert of Liège’s Fecunda ratis stands as one of the most ambitious and rhetorically refined didactic poems of the eleventh century, remarkable both for its formal complexity and for its systematic integration of proverbial material into a moral-pedagogical framework.1 This study examines the Fecunda ratis as a sophisticated site of cultural translation, in which popular proverbial wisdom, often rooted in vernacular, situational discourse, is rearticulated in the formal register of Latin didactic poetry. Drawing on recent theoretical approaches and the typological and rhetorical frameworks developed by Barry Taylor and Dave Bland, the following analysis seeks to reconstruct the mechanisms by which Egbert transforms orally transmitted sententiae into structured tools of moral instruction within the pedagogical and homiletic milieu of the early eleventh century. Particular attention will be paid to the stylistic, thematic, and performative dimensions of this transformation, as well as to the broader educational and ecclesiastical context in which the Fecunda ratis emerged and possibly circulated.

The Fecunda ratis

Egbert of Liège’s Fecunda ratis (literally, “the fertile ship”) is an extensive collection of sayings in hexameters consisting of two books, which Egbert dedicated to his childhood friend Adalbold.2 It survived in only one eleventh-century manuscript kept in the Cologne Cathedral Library, which contains the poem, a Christmas hymn, and a short prayer.3 The manuscript’s tradition is characterized by eleven different hands following the main scribe with alterations and glosses, which indicates a lively reception and editorial work within the school. The poem was revised, glossed, and provided with alternative readings multiple times, especially by the hands E and L, whose emendations can be traced partly back to their own conjectures.4

The title of the work, Fecunda ratis, refers to the metaphorical idea of a school ship that is full to the point of overflowing, taking on proverbs, fables, parables, sayings, and stories from a wide variety of sources. However, Egbert himself also calls his work liber de aenigmatibus rusticanis,5 which refers to the quality and origin rather than the final purpose of the metaphorical cargo: a collection of popular, often enigmatic proverbs with a didactic purpose that is brought to the new shore of learned education. The poem was thus created from the desire both to add to the traditional educational materials, such as the Disticha Catonis and the fables of Avian, and to provide a new teaching tool for the trivium level that taught skills that could be turned into practice in everyday life.6

The work is divided into two books: the first one has the title prora (bow) and the second one the title puppis (stern). The first book consists of two large parts, the original collection of one-line verses and two-line verses and the extension in longer sections. It thus forms the core of the didactic tradition of sayings. The first part of the book consists of 1,008 verses that can be read as a self-contained collection with a prologue (1.1–4) and an epilogue (1.1005–1008), which suggests that there may well have been an earlier, shorter version that has not survived. The second part consists of longer poems and thematic elaborations, such as fables, allegories, satires, examples, and autobiographical reflections.

The second book, Puppis, contains a dense sequence of Christian ethical reflections, catechism-like pieces, verses about virtues and vices, quotations from Augustine, Gregory the Great, Ambrose, Jerome, and Bede, and Bible versifications and prayers. This book prepares students for the theological specialization, integrating the content of the spiritual curriculum in poetic form.

The stylistic orientation of the work is strongly influenced by the rhetoric of the trivium. There are numerous examples of ordo praeposterus, prolepsis, epistulae, and exempla, but also satirae, allegoriae, and fabulae, with echoes from classical authors such as Horace, Juvenal, Persius, Ovid, and Cicero as well as patristic authors and the Bible.7 Egbert uses ancient and patristic sentences, as well as popular proverbs, local idioms, and stylized scenes from everyday life.

Particularly noteworthy is the juxtaposition and interweaving of erudite high language and simple, popular diction. The style varies between an elegiac tone, mocking satire, pathetic invocation, proverbial brevity, and epic narrative. However, a pedagogical impetus runs through the entire work. It is intended to instruct, entertain, educate morally, and promote intellectually at the same time and thus forms an ideal reading book for adolescent students. Egbert emphasizes several times that his collection should serve to help students recognize and interpret allegorical, moral, and exegetical meanings. Thus, it should be understood as preparation for the study of the Bible.

Egbert of Liège

Not much is known about the author of the Fecunda ratis, Egbert of Liège.8 Sigebert of Gembloux, who lived roughly a generation after Egbert, made the following note: “Egbert, a cleric from Liège, wrote a book in metrical style about rustic riddles, initially brief. However, with an expanded reasoning, he wrote another book on the same subject, which was somewhat larger.”9 This is essentially all we know from contemporary sources. However, Egbert provides some hints himself. His letter of dedication to Adalbold of Utrecht, his childhood friend and the recipient of the Fecunda ratis, reveals relevant biographical information and an approximate dating and localization of the work. Adalbold, born around 975, served as archdeacon at the cathedral of Liège and became Bishop of Utrecht in 1010. He died on November 27, 1026. The time span of his episcopal office then provides the widest possible range for dating the composition or at least for the revision of the collection. Some scholars, including Voigt, have proposed that the Fecunda ratis was presumably commissioned by or at least under the influence of Bishop Durand (ruled 1021–1025), while Provost Johannes and the later Bishop Wazo served as dean of the Liège church.10 This seems well plausible although no exact evidence can be brought up. However, at this time, the cathedral school of Liège emerged as a pioneering center of a new manner of education, setting a precedent for cathedral schools throughout the Latin West.11 Its foundational innovation lay in institutionalizing a curriculum that combined liberal learning with the cultivation of elegant manners (honestas) and moral discipline (mores). This dual focus marked a clear departure from the Carolingian emphasis on doctrinal and scriptural training alone, and it is clearly adopted by Egbert in his Fecunda ratis.

Under Bishop Eraclius (959–971), a student of Brun of Cologne, the school was revitalized with a model that fused moral refinement with classical studies.12 His successor, Notker (972–1008), further established Liège as a leading intel­lectual and ethical center, producing clerics whose virtue and manners were seen as qualifications for high office.13 The pedagogical ethos prioritized visible comportment (how one walked, spoke, and gestured) as outward expressions of internal moral discipline. Wazo of Liège, who was active in 1005–1030, embodied this educational ideal by favoring students who excelled in manners over those merely proficient in letters. Under his leadership, Liège’s reputation flourished as a school of letters, manners, and religion. Later laments by figures like Anselm and Goswin underscore the sad end to this golden age, further attesting to its formative influence. The novelty of schools like Liège lay in integrating ethical and social formation (cultus virtutum) into formal education, shaping clerical elites not just intellectually but as embodiments of courtly, ecclesiastical, and civic ideals. The cathedral school thereby became both a pedagogical and a cultural institution for training future church and court leaders in the virtues of public conduct and personal decorum.

Egbert’s statement of age within the work (if we hold the poem De debilitate ēvī nostrī to give such an autobiographical indication)14 suggests that he was born around 972. He probably received his education together with Adalbold at the famous Liège Cathedral School under Notker, which under his leadership became one of the most important educational centers in the empire. References in the text suggest that Egbert initially enrolled as a student in the lower classes of the cathedral school and then devoted himself to the study of the septem artes liberales, with a clear focus on the trivium (grammar, rhetoric, dialectic). Although the work also shows knowledge of the quadrivium (e.g. arithmetic, music), his profile is clearly that of a philologically and pedagogically oriented schoolmaster, not a mathematically and theologically educated cleric.

After having completed his education, Egbert seems to have remained in Liège as a teacher, although he never held the position of head of the cathedral school as magister scholarum. Rather, he apparently worked as a submagister scholae or magister particularis, as was typical for larger schools with a differentiated teaching staff.15 In his dedication, Egbert describes himself as a presbyter and servorum Dei humillimus, that is, as a simple priest in the service of the church.

Egbert’s life is characterized by a continuous commitment to education. Although he was denied the social advancement experienced by other Liège scholars such as Adalbold or Wazo (neither was he appointed bishop nor was he given a position in the court chapel), he left behind a didactic work, Fecunda ratis, which surpasses all known pieces of school poetry of his time in terms of scope, diversity and pedagogical reflection. In his old age (in the Fecunda ratis, he repeatedly refers to himself as an old man, for instance in 1.1497, 1.1508, and 1.1517), he apparently wrote (or rewrote) his work as a summary of a long life in the teaching profession, interspersed with complaints about the decline in willingness to learn (1.508–509, 1.739–740, 1.801–802, 1.979–980, 1.1093–1096, 1.1612–1617), the increasing use of corporal punishment (1.1253–1280), and the growing material insecurity of the teaching profession (1.1075–1078, 1.1170–1173, 1.1497–1506, 1.1675–1683).

Poetics of the Medieval Proverb: from Situational Origins to
Collectional Transformation

In the theoretical discourse of the last few decades, the medieval proverb has increasingly been approached not as a decontextualized maxim but as an inherently situated utterance, one that encodes fragments of lived experience within compact, formulaic linguistic forms. As, for instance, Sebastian Neumeister has argued, proverbial speech resists definitional abstraction precisely because its meaning emerges not from conceptual fixity but from pragmatic pliability.16 Proverbs function less as detachable axioms than as mnemonic and hermeneutic devices: they anchor meaning in narrativized, affectively resonant scenarios, and they acquire significance through their repeated deployment in socially recognizable situations. Within this framework, literary proverb tales are not mere illustrations of gnomic content but acts of retroactive contextualization. They construct plausible experiential settings in which the proverb’s semantic logic can unfold.

A strikingly congruent line of thought undergirds Manfred Eikelmann’s philological study of the German proverb in medieval transmission, particularly as exemplified by the widely attested saying, Wenn man den Hund schlagen will, sagt man, er hat Leder gefressen (“If you want to beat the dog, you say he ate the leather”).17 While departing from different disciplinary platforms (literary theory and historical philology respectively), both Neumeister and Eikelmann converge upon a core insight: the proverb originates as a situational speech act, only subsequently becoming subject to processes of textual abstraction, literary stylization, and collectional systematization. Eikelmann’s contribution lies in his meticulous reconstruction of the stages by which proverbial expressions migrate from primary use in contextualized speech into the secondary realm of textual collections, acquiring new functions and forms in the process. Taking up an idea of the theologian Claus Westermann, Eikelmann draws a fundamental distinction between two modes of transmission: the primary tradition (primäre Überlieferung), where proverbs are embedded in lived communicative situations, and the secondary tradition (sekundäre Überlieferung), where they are extracted from their pragmatic contexts and compiled into collections. Eikelmann uses this theoretical scaffolding to interrogate a range of historical sources, revealing the extent to which medieval proverb collections not only preserved but also transformed the epistemic and performative status of the sayings they contain.

The proverb of the leather-eating dog appears for the first time not in vernacular German but in Latin, notably in the Dialogus Salomonis et Marcolfi, where it figures as part of a gnomic exchange between the idealized wise king Solomon and the grotesquely embodied trickster Marcolf.18 In this dialogic context, the proverb is not merely cited but activated within a stylized confrontation of rhetorical registers. Salomon utters a high-minded sententia on the unreliability of enemy speech, to which Marcolf counters with the proverb: “Qui suum canem vult perdere, per rabiem imponit illi nomen” (He who wants to kill/beat his dog claims it has rabies). Here, the proverb functions subversively, dismantling the moral absolutism of its predecessor and foregrounding the instrumental logic of accusation. While the Dialogus does not simulate spontaneous oral discourse, its dialogical structure reinstates a facsimile of situational logic, within which the proverb’s function is preserved as a performative utterance.

This early Latin transmission is paralleled in the Schäftlarner Sprüche, a twelfth-century florilegium from the Bavarian monastery of Schäftlarn. There, the proverb appears in a compressed, single-line form: “Suspendens catulum, vorat, inquit, opus coriorum” (As he hangs up the puppy, he devours, he says, the work of the tanners).19 While the narrative context is absent, the line’s framing within a monastic miscellany suggests a pedagogical function. It was perhaps to be glossed, recited, or imitated. Such texts underscore the role of ecclesiastical settings in the early formalization of proverbial knowledge, even before the widespread emergence of vernacular collections.

It is only in the thirteenth century that vernacular German attestations become frequent, particularly in didactic and literary contexts. Freidank’s Bescheiden­heit (c. 1230), a sprawling corpus of rhymed aphorisms and moral reflections, includes a stylized version of the proverb: “Der hunt hat leder gezzen, so man dienstes wil vergezzen” ([Claim that] the dog has eaten leather once you want to forget [his] service).20 The formal integration into a metrical couplet, as Eikelmann observes, distances the saying from its situational moorings and transforms it into a Kunstspruch, a self-contained artefact of poetic wisdom.21 The loss of contextual specificity is partially compensated by the stylization and compression of meaning, but it also signals a shift in the proverb’s reception, from a tool of social interaction to a component of authorial didacticism. However, it also presupposes a considerable degree of cultural knowledge on the part of the reader. In fact, this version of the proverb is hardly understandable for anyone not familiar with its proverbial meaning. Literally it translates “The dog has eaten leather once you want to forget service.” Thus, the question of whose service is forgotten is left absolutely open.

A more narrativized reintegration of the proverb’s situational logic is found in Sibote’s Märe von der Frauenzucht (mid-thirteenth century), where a knight plans to kill his horse as a warning to his unruly wife.22 The narrator interjects the proverb, thus casting the knight’s behavior in the moral light of opportunistic cruelty. Here, the proverb serves as a moral frame: it retroactively interprets the action and assigns it to a recognizable behavioral pattern. The tale does not merely illustrate the proverb but actualizes its logic in narrative form, a phenomenon Neumeister identifies as central to the mnemonic power of proverb tales.23

During the late medieval period, there is a proliferation of systematic proverb collections, many of which are tied to pedagogical or homiletic contexts. The Proverbia Fridanci, a set of Latin sermon outlines using vernacular proverbs as thematic prothemata, is particularly illuminating. In these texts, the dog-and-leather proverb is not only cited but subjected to allegorical exegesis: the dog becomes a figure for the preacher and the accusation of eating leather an emblem of unjust persecution. In one version, the commentary reads: “Canis spiritualiter est praedicator […] qui ex odio alterum vult persequi, causam fingit” (The preacher is spiritually a dog… who, out of hatred, wishes to persecute someone and fabricates a reason).24 The allegoresis reconfigures the proverb for moral instruction, but in doing so, it also preserves the narrative and situational logic by re-embedding the saying within a moralized exemplum. The Proverbia Fridanci thus constitute a hybrid form: at once agents of collectional abstraction and mediators of pragmatic intelligibility.

By the fifteenth century, the proverb surfaces in a range of vernacular compilations: the Houghton Codex, Bollstatter’s Spruchsammlung, and the widely diffused Proverbia Communia (in Dutch, Low German, and Latin).25 These collections display varying degrees of formalization. In some, the proverb is presented in bilingual format (for instance, “Coreum comedit canis dum pendere debet / Wenn man den hund hencken will, so hat er leder Gessen”), thereby serving the dual function of linguistic exercise and moral instruction. In others, such as the Tractatulus proverbiorum communium preserved in a Stuttgart manuscript, Latin hexameters are translated into rhymed German distichs, reinforcing the mnemonic architecture of the collection. These collectional forms participate in the broader humanist project of encyclopedic ordering, yet, as Eikelmann warns, they often efface the proverb’s embeddedness in social praxis.26

Taken together, the historical trajectory reconstructed by Eikelmann illustrates how proverbs undergo a double transformation, first, from situational speech to stylized literary form and, second, from literary instantiation to collectional codification. In each phase, the proverb’s semantic value is reshaped. The spontaneous, dialogical, and often performatively charged utterance becomes an object of curation and commentary. Yet as both Eikelmann and Neumeister insist, this shift does not entail semantic closure. On the contrary, the proverb retains a latent openness to context, a polysemous potential that collectional frames must either domesticate or accentuate.

Ultimately, the proverb resists total capture by either literary formalization or classificatory ambition. Its semantic vitality depends not merely on lexical content or syntactic patterning but on its capacity to conjure plausible scenarios of use, scenarios that are culturally coded, narratively inflected, and pragmatically legible. Eikelmann’s historicized philology and Neumeister’s theoretical poetics both converge on this point: the proverb, as a form of “discours répété”, derives its power from being at once open to iteration and singular, recognizable and contingent, collected and lived.27

This being said, we can observe similar phenomena in Egbert’s Fecunda ratis, and we can seek the modes in which he incorporated, transformed, and canonized popular wisdom in his Latin poem.

Proverbs and Popular Wisdom in the Fecunda ratis:
A Typology of Transmission

The search for vernacular origins in the rich proverbial and gnomic material of the Fecunda ratis can draw upon a variety of indications, including (1) explicit signs of being derived from the vernacular, such as the phrases vulgus or vulgo dicitur, (2) proverbs with thematic roots in rustic or popular everyday life, (3) formulaic expressions of demonstrably Germanic or Romance origin, and (4) popular sayings incorporated into scholastic or moralizing allegory.

Occasionally, Egbert prefaces a proverb with an explicit marker of its vernacular status, such as vulgo dicitur or analogous phrases. These cases are relatively rare but striking in their transparency. At least nine instances of such explicit attribution occur in the Fecunda ratis (1.31, 1.103, 1.106, 1.160, 1.179, 1.384, 1.387, 1.1162, and C 25, a variant of 1.385).

In his article Brotlöffel, haariges Herz und wundersame Empfängnis, Wolfgang Maaz offers a convincing demonstration of the second modus of transforming popular wisdom into learned knowledge. He shows how Egbert of Liège strategically integrated quotidian experiences into the fabric of his didactic poetry. The so-called “panificum coclear (edible spoon) – non crescit edentis in ore” (I 1368) offers a particularly vivid instance of Egbert’s use of lived experience. While the Fecunda’s editor Voigt left this verse uncommented, Maaz, drawing on S. Singer’s collection Sprichwörter des Mittelalters, identifies it as a proverbial reflection of a widespread eating practice.28 The bread spoon (coclear ex pane) was a common substitute for wooden or metal utensils, and it was consumed along with the meal itself: “Coclear ex pane utendo consumitur: sic omnis res frequenti usu minuitur.”29 Aristophanic Greek, lexical testimonies from Julius Pollux, Hesychius, and the Suda corroborate the antiquity of this usage, yet no proverbial form predating Egbert has been found.30 The second motif, that of the “pilose heart,” found in a fraudulent man’s corpse, leads Maaz into an intertextual investigation of anatomical lore. Egbert writes: “Verum defuncti rimantur viscera testes / Inventumque nefas mirantur et hispida corda” (But the witnesses probe the entrails of the dead, / and marvel at the discovered crime and the bristly heart).31 Although Voigt considered this a medieval invention, Maaz traces a compelling genealogy to Valerius Maximus, who recounts the vivisection of Aristomenes: “pectus dissecuere viventi, hirsutumque cor repertum est” (they cut open the chest of the living man, and a bristly heart was found). Here too, Egbert adapts a literary topos to a moralized didactic frame. Notably, the parallels in phrasing (callidior/calliditatem, fraudes/astutia, inventumque/invenerunt) suggest direct reception, which Maaz substantiates further through comparison with Rodulfus Tortarius’ De memorabilibus, whose Latin phrasing closely mirrors Egbert’s. Egbert’s realism extends beyond literary sources into empirical knowledge. Maaz draws on pathophysiological explanations of the cor villosum to interpret the “hairy heart” as a case of fibrinous pericarditis, possibly similar to conditions described by Salimbene de Adam, where autopsies revealed lesions and vesicles in the heart area. Through these case studies, Maaz not only dismantles the assumption that medieval school texts lacked engagement with lived experience but also reveals how Egbert’s work interweaves learned citation and empirical reality. More important for our case, the Fecunda ratis, though rooted in classical and patristic tradition, emerges in Maaz’s reading as a uniquely grounded and innovative contribution to medieval pedagogy. Consequently, other such references to rustic and agrarian wisdom (such as 1.73, 1.77, 1.130, 1.253, 1.258, 1.293, 1.617, 1.1162 and 1.1676) deserve similar in-depth investigation in the future.

The third modus of coping with vernacular material is indicated by proverbs found in later Middle High German or Old French collections. These proverbs suggest that Egbert tapped into a transregional corpus of popular sententiae. Examples can be found in 1.69, 1.78, 1.92, 1.96, 1.128, 1.398, 1.579, and 1.1164. Some were identified by Voigt in 1886, but since then, possibilities for wider recognition have increased markedly, most of all after the completion of the thirteen volumes of the Thesaurus proverbiorum medii aevi (1995–2002).32 In the future, digital methods may also add to the analysis of large historical corpora and will help identify related phrases, translations, and varieties of the “discours répété.”33

A fourth and final modus in Egbert’s Fecunda ratis consists of proverbs or proverbial forms that Egbert expands into mini-narratives or allegories. These texts are often longer, and though they preserve a sentential core, they are recontextualized within didactic exegesis or moralizing exempla. Examples include the tales of the fox and the sick lion (1.1174–1189), the sleeping student and the inattentive class (1.739–740), the gluttonous monk who prefers the kitchen to the choir (1.703–705), and the student who mocks his teacher but is later praised (1.1199–1220, 1.1221–1247). This last category attests to Egbert’s didactic craft: proverbial wisdom becomes material for rhetorical elaboration, moral reflection, and institutional critique.

Working with Popular Wisdom: Transforming the Vernacular into Latin

Building on the typology developed above, we now ask about the rhetorical and stylistic details of the transformation from vernacular into Latin. To do this, Barry Taylor’s influential study Medieval Proverb Collections: The West European Tradition (1992) offers one of the most comprehensive frameworks for analyses of medieval proverbial literature, particularly as it oscillates between the oral and the written, the vernacular and the Latinate, the popular and the learned. Rather than defining the proverb narrowly in terms of content or origin, Taylor proposes a functional and rhetorical understanding: a proverb, in the medieval context, is a brief moral statement on conduct, typically paratactically constructed and transmitted either as isolated maxims or within larger compilatory structures. He does not insist on terminological exclusivity (terms such as proverbium, sententia, maxima, and paroemia often overlap in medieval sources) but instead attends to their performative, literary, and didactic roles. The proverb, in Taylor’s reading, is not merely a relic of rustic speech, but a mobile form capable of participating in various textual economies: from schoolroom instruction to theological commentary, from moral florilegia to rhetorical handbooks.

Crucially, Taylor develops a set of criteria for tracing the transformation of proverbs, especially those of vernacular origin, into Latinate literary and didactic formats. These criteria include, first, the degree of semantic literalism or elaboration in the Latin version, with attention to whether the original structure is maintained or expanded for rhetorical effect. Second, the treatment of figurative language, especially the tendency to replace concrete, image-rich vernacular expressions with abstract or allegorical formulations. Third, the presence of pleonastic formulations or explanatory expansions, often indicating a transition from elliptical oral structures to grammatically complete and interpretively secure written ones. Fourth, the degree of formal restructuring, particularly the imposition of meter, rhyme, syntactic symmetry, or antithesis, which elevate the proverb into the realm of ars poetica. And fifth, the level of contextual embedding, or in other words, whether a proverb remains an isolated utterance or is integrated into thematic sequences, moral exempla, or exegetical commentary.

Taylor’s model is not merely descriptive but interpretive. It illuminates the cultural work performed by medieval proverb collections, especially those which seek not to preserve the vernacular for its own sake but to reshape it as an instrument of Latinate ethical instruction. This model proves particularly fruitful when applied to Egbert’s Fecunda ratis, which bears witness to a deliberate and sophisticated process of vernacular proverb adaptation. Egbert’s collection does not include overt markers of source language or explicit claims to translational practice. Yet the idiomatic simplicity, the imagistic familiarity, and the thematic range of many of his couplets suggest that they derive, at least in part, from orally circulated vernacular wisdom. The task, then, is to analyze how Egbert appropriates, transforms, and integrates such material into a highly structured Latin didactic poem, and Taylor’s criteria offer a precise heuristic for doing so.

One of Egbert’s most revealing translations of a likely vernacular source occurs in 1.84: “Neglegentibus pueris uerbera debes intentare, ut corrigantur; senibus et canis, quo digni sunt, honorem impendere” (You must threaten negligent boys with the rod, so that they may be corrected; but to the elderly and grey-haired, you should accord the honor they deserve).34 The moral economy at play is familiar: young people are to be disciplined, elders are to be honored. This combination appears in multiple vernacular traditions, including medieval German and Old French gnomic verse. Yet Egbert’s Latin formulation is not a mere calque. He expands and balances the structure syntactically, pairing two contrasting imperatives in a symmetrical construction. The verb intentare introduces an element of juridical abstraction (“you must threaten” rather than “you must beat”), while ut corrigantur provides a telic clause that rationalizes the punishment in moral terms. Likewise, quo digni sunt implies a measure of ethical discernment in bestowing honor. The line thus avoids both brutality and sentimentality, positioning itself within a moderate, reasoned discourse of pedagogical governance. According to Taylor’s schema, this constitutes a case of semantic and structural elaboration, coupled with didactic contextualization: the vernacular core is preserved but rearticulated in a moral-Latin idiom suited for clerical and scholastic reception.

Egbert frequently employs strategies of condensation and parataxis when adapting proverbs whose force lies in suggestive brevity. The line “Quando domus uicina flagrat, proximat ad te” (1.719: “When the neighboring house is ablaze, the flames draw near to your own) captures a classic motif of neighborly peril: the danger that befalls another may soon be one’s own. This idea, common across European languages, is expressed in Latin without any explicit interpretive frame. Egbert refrains from adding a moral imperative (such as cave or vide), instead relying on juxtaposition and implicature. The result is a maxim that simultaneously asserts and insinuates. Taylor observes that brevity itself can be a source of obscurity, especially when surface syntax remains simple but deeper meaning must be inferred. Egbert exploits this dynamic by maintaining a minimal lexical field: flagrat and proximat are semantically rich but syntactically undemanding verbs. The proverb’s moral significance (solidarity, vigilance, shared vulnerability) is conveyed not through exposition but through structured understatement. Here, the translation strategy involves not expansion but elliptical refinement, preserving the proverb’s gnomic form while transferring its imagery into an elegant Latin construction.

Other examples reveal Egbert’s propensity for allegorical intensification. “Lancibus appositis in villam transilit ignis” (1.384) is a proverb dense with symbolic potential. Literally, “once the platters are set out, fire leaps into the house,” the line evokes the dangers of opulence or complacency, perhaps warning against the vulnerability created by feasting or indulgence. The imagery may derive from a domestic warning in the vernacular, but Egbert’s phrasing is anything but rustic. The alliteration of Lancibus and appositis, the sudden violence of transilit, and the quasi-dramatic culmination in villam combine to produce a line of striking poetic energy. Taylor notes that in many medieval collections, proverbs are made obscure not only by brevity but by figurative saturation. Egbert clearly embraces this tradition, transforming a concrete domestic image into a moralized parable. The proverb, while still recognizable in content, becomes a tableau of moral consequence, in which lexical selection and rhetorical rhythm collaborate to enhance memorability and interpretive density.

This tendency toward poetic stylization is particularly evident in proverbs involving anthropomorphic allegory. “Qui credit vulpi, nudus ad horrea currit” (1.583: He who trusts the fox runs naked to the granary) exemplifies the fusion of vernacular folklore with Latinate moralism. The fox, a longstanding symbol of cunning and deceit, serves here as the focal point of misplaced trust. The image of running naked to the granary is deliberately absurd, designed to provoke not laughter but shame at credulity. Egbert does not tone down the grotesqueness; rather, he deploys it to reinforce the social cost of foolishness. The proverb’s structure (a conditional clause and a paradoxical consequence) is retained from the vernacular, but Egbert sharpens it with an almost Horatian sense of moral ridicule. The vernacular message is neither diluted nor merely repeated, but re-presented with formal concision and moral urgency.

A similar pattern appears in “Verba nocent aliquando magis quam tela cruenta” (1.387: Words sometimes wound more grievously than bloodstained weapons), where the familiar idea that words may wound more than weapons is cast in a strikingly symmetrical structure. The antithesis between verba and tela and the hyperbolic adjective cruenta create a poetic tension that elevates the saying from truism to thesis. He transforms vernacular into classical language which must have been apparent at least to his learned contemporaries.35 Moreover, Egbert’s lexical choices are calculated for rhetorical weight: the abstract noun verba is positioned first, giving it syntactic and semantic primacy; magis quam sets up a scalar evaluation; and aliquando introduces a note of prudent qualification. The line becomes not merely a proverb, but a statement of general moral anthropology, one that recognizes the power of language as a vehicle of harm. The Latin here does not translate a specific vernacular form, but reconstitutes a widely shared sentiment within the conventions of Latin gnomic verse.

In many cases, Egbert seems to reorganize the lexical structure of the proverb to match the syntactic expectations of Latin verse while retaining its ethical charge. The pervasiveness of thematic and lexical parallelism (pueris… senibus, verba… tela, credit vulpi… nudus currit) reflects a commitment to memorability and stylistic harmony. Moreover, Egbert’s preference for non-rhymed but rhythmically measured lines, often constructed in dactylic or elegiac cadence, indicates a desire to stabilize the proverb as a unit of instruction, not merely as a record of speech. Taylor’s observation that the imposition of meter and rhetorical structure serves to “canonize” the proverb within literary culture finds clear confirmation here.

Equally telling is the organization of the Fecunda ratis itself. Proverbs are arranged in thematic constellations: on speech, on punishment, on old age, on friendship, on folly. This allows Egbert to group vernacular wisdom within a moral architecture, reinforcing patterns of association and supporting gradual ethical acculturation. Such sequencing reveals that the translated proverb is not intended to stand alone, but to function within a cumulative pedagogy. Taylor’s distinction between reference collections and didactic anthologies is particularly apt in this regard: Egbert writes for edification, not for citation.

In sum, Egbert’s translation of vernacular proverbs is marked by a com­bination of semantic fidelity and stylistic sophistication. His practice aligns closely with Taylor’s descriptive categories: he elaborates and stylizes, metaphorizes and moralizes, compresses and expands. The result is a corpus in which the oral wisdom of the laity is absorbed into the moral discourse of Latin letters. The vernacular is not preserved in its original idiom, but transformed into a medium fit for moral instruction, poetic admiration, and clerical transmission. Thus, Egbert’s Fecunda ratis exemplifies the cultural work of translation in the high Middle Ages. It is not simply the mechanical reproduction of popular speech, but its disciplined reinvention within a literary and ethical order.

Between Auctoritas and Vox Populi:
The Didactic Potential of the Fecunda ratis

After examining the popular sources that Egbert drew on and the techniques of its translation and remodeling, now the function of the proverbs in his collection should be considered, building upon Dave L. Bland’s seminal study of the rhetorical, poetic, and didactic value of proverbial expressions in the Middle Ages.36 His analysis of the ars poetriae and ars praedicandi sheds light on the functional polyvalence of proverbs in medieval literary culture and provides a critical framework for an understanding of their broader epistemological and sociocultural implications. This framework proves particularly fruitful when applied to the Fecunda ratis.

Bland’s argues that proverbs, far from serving as mere ornamental devices, were deeply embedded in the inventive processes of medieval discourse. Writers such as Matthew of Vendôme and Geoffrey of Vinsauf are shown to integrate sententiae into the very structure of poetic composition, recommending them as legitimate and effective means of beginning a text. Sententiae functioned not only as figures of speech in the classical rhetorical tradition but, rather as sources of invention and amplification. From this point of view, the proverb becomes a dynamic point of departure for the expansion of meaning, adaptable to a variety of contexts and capable of sustaining complex moral and philosophical reflections.

The same holds true for the ars praedicandi, in which proverbs fulfilled a similarly multifaceted role. Preaching manuals by authors such as Robert of Basevorn and Henry of Hesse reveal that proverbial expressions were integral to all structural components of the sermon, from the antetheme and exordium to the subdivisions and conclusio. Proverbs served as mnemonic aids, attention-catching devices, markers of division, and moral signposts. They carried the weight of auctoritas, whether sacred or secular, and often functioned as points of access between learned culture and the lived experience of the laity. Bland’s extensive reference to Alan of Lille’s Ars praedicandi, with its pronounced reliance on scriptural and classical proverbs, further underscores the strategic value of the proverb as a bridge between the rhetorical elite and the oral culture of the common people.

Egbert’s Fecunda ratis can be productively analyzed within this discursive horizon. While Bland does not explicitly mention Egbert, the patterns he describes resonate deeply with Egbert’s method of proverb adaptation and didactic framing. In Fecunda ratis, proverbs function not only as moral axioms but also as generators of narrative exempla and ethical instruction. Egbert often begins or concludes a section with a proverb, which is then paraphrased, elaborated, and contextualized in a manner strikingly similar to the practice outlined in both poetic and preaching manuals. Thus, the proverbs in Fecunda ratis should be understood not as quotations but as rhetorical kernels from which complex interpretative and ethical structures emerge.

One of the most significant parallels lies in the role of proverbs as mediators between written and oral traditions. Bland emphasizes that proverbs are deeply rooted in the vox populi, the wisdom of the people, and that their presence in elevated discourses signals a recognition of this communal epistemology. Egbert’s frequent use of vernacular or vernacularly-inflected sayings, subsequently rendered into Latin, reflects this same dynamic. Proverbs such as “Neglegentibus pueris non discere, senibus autem non posse convenit” (Not to learn befits the careless young; not to be able to learn befits the old) encapsulate commonly held views on education and age, which Egbert then integrates into a broader ethical and theological discourse. These formulations serve to anchor his moral instruction in the everyday experiences of his audience, thus fulfilling the rhetorical ideal of docere, movere et delectare.

Furthermore, Bland’s insight into the casuistic use of proverbs in ethical reasoning finds a clear echo in Egbert’s textual strategies. Many sections of Fecunda ratis can be read as micro-case studies in applied morality, in which proverbs serve as both premises and conclusions. This resonates with Bland’s discussion of the proverb’s role in casuistry, where it provides guidance in exceptional or marginal cases. Egbert’s moral pedagogy is similarly attentive to the complexities of human behavior and frequently uses proverbs to illuminate ethical dilemmas, particularly those involving interpersonal relationships, familial obligations, or the responsibilities of youth.

In addition, the proverbs in Fecunda ratis mirror the formal characteristics identified by Bland as conducive to rhetorical and didactic efficacy. Their brevity, rhythmic balance, and semantic openness make them ideal vehicles for transmission and commentary. Egbert’s treatment of proverbial material often involves layering multiple interpretive voices (scriptural, patristic, classical) around a central gnomic core. This strategy enhances the text’s rhetorical force and underscores its participation in the broader tradition of sapiential literature, a tradition that, as Bland notes, spans both sacred and secular domains.

Finally, Bland’s reflections on the mnemonic and performative dimensions of proverbs in oral-literate cultures offer a compelling lens through which to view Fecunda ratis. Egbert’s text, though written in Latin verse, is suffused with oral resonances, and the proverbial expressions embedded in it would have facilitated both comprehension and memorization. This aligns with the educational and moral objectives of the text, which aimed to instill virtuous conduct in a young clerical readership. By encoding moral lessons in proverbial form, Egbert ensured their retention and internalization, thus fulfilling the pedagogical aims also articulated in the ars dictaminis and ars praedicandi.

The Fecunda ratis and the Educational Renewal of the Eleventh Century

After the first millennium, the Latin literary culture of Western Europe experienced a renewal in both pedagogical methodology and textual production, primarily centered in cathedral and monastic schools. The cathedral schools of Liège, Reims, Chartres, and Bamberg, as well as monastic institutions like Saint Emmeram in Regensburg, emerged as intellectual hubs fostering a learned Latin style that was both anchored in Carolingian precedent and open to rhetorical innovation.37 The educational literature produced in this period reflects a vibrant interplay between didactic intention, rhetorical craft, and spiritual formation. Two figures stand out for their contributions to this evolving landscape: Otloh of St Emmeram (c. 1010–c. 1070) and Arnulf of Saint-Pierre (fl. c. 1050), whose works exemplify the literary ethos of the cathedral school environment and offer valuable parallels for the textual strategies of Egbert’s Fecunda ratis.

Otloh, a monk of the Benedictine abbey of Saint Emmeram in Regensburg, composed a number of texts that straddle the boundaries between autobiography, hagiography, and moral instruction. His Liber de tentationibus suis, written between 1050 and 1060, presents a confessional narrative of his spiritual struggles and also a model of Latinity accessible to educated clerics and advanced pupils. In a closely related genre, his Dialogus de tribus quaestionibus, which is framed as a conversation with the bishop of Regensburg, illustrates the discursive style cultivated in advanced schooling contexts, one which combines dialectical method with stylistic elegance. While Otloh was primarily a monastic writer, his works circulated in cathedral school milieus, a fact that betrays a sensitivity to the pedagogical needs of intermediate and advanced Latin readers. Notably, his Liber visionum compiled edifying exempla in an accessible narrative form, anticipating later developments in school collections of moral tales.

Arnulf of Saint-Pierre, a lesser-known but significant figure active in the ecclesiastical province of Reims, collected a corpus of prose letters and grammatical exercises which survive partially but are suggestive of the type of Latin composition training offered in cathedral schools. His epistolary style, while less ornate than that of contemporaries such as Gerbert of Aurillac (the later Pope Sylvester II), exhibits a clarity and conciseness aimed at instructing pupils in the art of correct and effective Latin expression. Fragments attributed to Arnulf include explications of Priscian and glosses on classical authors, underscoring the continuity of the Carolingian school tradition while adapting it to local didactic needs. His pedagogical output complements the broader effort observable in the early eleventh century to systematize Latin instruction through manageable, thematically coherent units. often using proverbs, fables, and moralizing narratives.

Both Otloh and Arnulf reflect the centrality of Latin prose composition and moral instruction in the curriculum of the early eleventh-century cathedral school. Their works, alongside those of figures such as Gerbert, Fulbert of Chartres, and Notker Labeo, created a literary and didactic environment in which compilatory works like Egbert of Liège’s Fecunda ratis could flourish. Egbert’s text, though unique in its ambitious scope and its explicit program of proverb exegesis, partakes of the same impulse to educate through a mixture of moral authority, stylistic variety, and structural coherence. The intellectual and literary culture of early eleventh-century cathedral schools thus laid the groundwork for a genre of Latin educational writing that was at once creative, mnemonic, and deeply moral in orientation.

From School to Practice: The Fecunda ratis in the Context of
an Early Homiletic Movement

Beyond the notable development of learned education in the cathedral school, Egbert’s times also marked a crucial though still largely preparatory phase in the development of Western European preaching culture.38 This period, long overshadowed by the more prolific twelfth-century explosion of vernacular sermon collections and the rise of scholastic homiletics, deserves new attention as a time of quiet restructuring. From monastic reform centers in Burgundy and Lorraine to cathedral schools in Liège and York, a broad intellectual and pastoral current emerged that redefined the role of preaching in the Christian community. While the period still lacks systematic vernacular homiletic corpora, it offers rich evidence of rhetorical, doctrinal, and moral experimentation that laid the groundwork for such later developments.

In the Latin West, the dominant institutional impulses for reform and pastoral revitalization came from monastic centers such as Cluny, Saint-Vanne at Verdun, and Fleury. These communities, especially under abbots like Odilo of Cluny (d. 1049) and Richard of Saint-Vanne (d. 1046), stressed the internal spiritual discipline of monks and a reinvigoration of liturgical life, but they also supported a more didactically sensitive preaching practice. Although Cluny was primarily liturgical in its orientation, the sheer expansion of its monastic network (the ordo Cluniacensis) created new contexts for spiritual instruction, particularly for lay patrons, dependents, and oblates. Cluniac liturgical commentaries and the exemplary homiletic style found in the Smaragdus of Saint-Mihiel or later in the writings of Bernard of Clairvaux (whose roots lie partly in this pre-1100 milieu) reflect a homiletic culture that, though still Latin, was increasingly attuned to the moral and spiritual needs of a broader audience.

Parallel developments can be traced in northern France and Flanders. The Benedictine houses of Saint-Bertin (Saint-Omer), Marchiennes, and Elnone began to show signs of liturgical and moral reform, supported by counts like Baldwin IV of Flanders (d. 1035). Although these reforms were primarily disciplinary, the increasing attention to clerical education and the use of simplified Latin texts for the instruction of conversi or lay brothers indicates a growing functional awareness of preaching as pedagogy. Similarly, the region’s close contact with Anglo-Saxon England facilitated the transmission of texts and models of popular preaching, particularly through shared hagiographic traditions and exempla.

Indeed, in Anglo-Saxon England, the eleventh century witnessed a remarkable resurgence of vernacular preaching centered on figures such as Ælfric of Eynsham (d. after 1010). Ælfric’s Homilies, written in Old English and based on patristic sources, were explicitly designed to provide priests with the materials to instruct the laity clearly and doctrinally soundly. His prefaces frequently express concern for the poor Latin competence of local clergy and the pastoral needs of their unlettered congregations. While Ælfric’s work is geographically removed from Egbert’s milieu, it nonetheless exemplifies the same reformist impulse: the desire to make Christian teaching morally effective and theologically correct across different social strata. Furthermore, Egbert’s re-Latinization of popular moral ideas can be seen as a mirror image of Ælfric’s vernacularisation of patristic doctrine.

In Lorraine and the Meuse region, the so-called Saint-Vanne Reform, while less centralized than Cluny, offered an even more directly didactic model. This network, which was associated with monasteries like Saint-Hidulf at Moyenmoutier and Saint-Evre at Toul, combined monastic observance with active pastoral outreach. Under Richard of Saint-Vanne, the region became known for promoting the intellectual and disciplinary renewal of both monks and secular clergy. Here, the integration of cathedral schools into the reform effort was more direct, and it is within this context that Egbert of Liège emerges as a key transitional figure. His alignment of rhetorical formation, moral didacticism, and pastoral purpose places Egbert in close proximity to the emerging preaching culture of the reform era. He reflects a world in which Latin homiletics were increasingly concerned with accessibility and affective impact, even if still formally composed. In this sense, Fecunda ratis may be seen as a pre-homiletic anthology, forming part of a larger pedagogical infrastructure for the training of future preachers in the cathedral and collegiate settings of the Western Empire.

Overall, the eleventh century saw preaching shift from a ritualized and largely elite practice to one increasingly invested in the formation of preachers, the codification of themes, and the pastoral effectiveness of rhetoric. While full-blown sermon cycles or vernacular collections would not appear until later in the twelfth century, the groundwork was already being laid in monastic, canonical, and scholastic environments. Figures like Egbert of Liège, Odilo of Cluny, Richard of Saint-Vanne, and Ælfric of Eynsham embody different strands of this emerging homiletic culture, one that was fundamentally moral, pedagogical, and reform-driven. Their works, though diverse in form and audience, share a common vision: that preaching, whether formal, poetic, liturgical, or proverbial, should serve the deeper transformation of Christian society. It is precisely in this formative ambiguity, between school and pulpit, between proverb and sermon, that the true contours of the early eleventh-century preaching movement in the West come into view.

From Segment to Structure: "Coherence" without "Cohesion" in Egbert of Liège

While Egbert’s Fecunda ratis has long been appreciated as a compendious re­po­sitory of moral instruction, its textual organization merits closer attention, not merely for its didactic architecture, but also for its subtle, rhetorically governed coherence. In contrast to cohesion, which is typically marked by lexical, morphological, or syntactic links between clauses, coherence refers to the underlying conceptual and pragmatic unity that renders a text intelligible and meaningful to its reader. As Helen Chau Hu stresses, coherence is “rhetorical and pragmatic,” while cohesion is “grammatical and semantic.”39 In the case of Egbert, who works with sources ranging from scriptural sententiae to oral vernacular proverbs, the challenge lies in ensuring that the textual units he composes retain thematic unity while exhibiting semantic range and formal independence.

A first observation is that Egbert eschews narrative or syntactic continuity across long stretches of his poem, yet his use of structural parallelism, thematic clustering, and serial progression creates a discursive fabric that can be described, following de Beaugrande and Dressler,40 as globally coherent. The coherence of Egbert’s proverbial corpus is not primarily a matter of grammatical devices but of conceptual chaining: individual couplets or distiches are rarely linked by anaphora or connectives, yet they participate in an implied topical progression, for instance by moving from one age group (children) to another (elders) or from social vices (lying, greed) to their corrective virtues (truth, moderation).

One need merely consider, for example, the aforementioned proverb “Neglegentibus pueris uerbera debes intentare, ut corrigantur; senibus et canis, quo digni sunt, honorem impendere (You must threaten negligent boys with the rod, so that they may be corrected; but to the elderly and grey-haired, you should accord the honor they deserve).41 This couplet functions both as a standalone ethical maxim and as the culmination of a thematic unit on age-appropriate moral treatment. While it lacks syntactic ties to its neighboring lines, it is conceptually coherent with them, continuing a pattern of juxtaposition that Egbert exploits frequently: youth and age, discipline and respect, ignorance and dignity. This rhetorical device corresponds to what van Dijk calls linear or segmental coherence, the relation between successive propositions that develop through difference, refinement, or contrast.42

Another strategy that reinforces coherence in Egbert’s work is the use of repetition and lexical thematization, both of which contribute to what Hadla calls “paragraph unity.”43 Though the Fecunda ratis is not organized in paragraphs, one can detect clusters of lines that cohere through partial repetition of key terms or motifs. A sequence may, for instance, use the verb fallere (to deceive) in several successive lines, either through lexical recurrence or through synonyms (mentiri, circumvenire, dolo uti), generating what Papegaaij and Schubert term “thematic progression by lexical variation.”44 This constitutes a higher-order kind of rhetorical coherence, in which the transmission of moral knowledge is facilitated by the reiteration of core concepts under different verbal guises.

Egbert also makes frequent use of binary structures that resonate with what text linguists identify as one of the primary vehicles of coherence: the organization of textual information into theme and rheme. While Egbert rarely employs grammatical devices such as pronominal anaphora or explicit connectives, he constructs lines in which the theme (the known or morally fixed point) is set against the rheme (the action or consequence to be advised or avoided). For instance, in “Quando domus uicina flagrat, proximat ad te,” the thematic anchor lies in the familiar setting (domus uicina), while the rheme (proximat ad te) introduces an inferred threat. The rhetorical function of the proverb depends upon the reader’s ability to grasp this given–new structure, even without formal markers of such organization. This reflects what Brown and Yule call “top-down coherence,” whereby interpretation arises not from textual cues alone, but from the readers’ background knowledge and expectations of logical or experiential continuity.45

Egbert’s coherence strategy is therefore not discursive in the sense of classical narration, but rather structural-rhetorical. He builds a “text” not out of narrative flow or grammatical cohesion, but out of moral adjacency, logical analogy, and thematic resonance. This aligns with what Hadla describes as a translation-relevant model of coherence, where the task is not to reproduce cohesion across texts but to retain conceptual and rhetorical connectivity, even when formal links are absent or restructured.46

A further dimension of coherence in the Fecunda ratis concerns its didactic sequencing. Egbert frequently arranges proverbs according to conceptual logic: a warning is followed by its remedy, a vice by its punishment, an error by its correction. This results in what Papegaaij and Schubert term “thematic patterns as a summary mechanism,” a cumulative coherence whereby the whole is more than the sum of its parts.47 For example, after the warning cited above about the neighboring house in flames, Egbert proceeds to related metaphors of contagion, including the aforementioned “Lancibus appositis in villam transilit ignis” (1.384: Once the platters are laid out, the fire leaps into the house), an image that maintains thematic proximity to the previous line through the motif of fire, while shifting the scene from neighborhood to domestic festivity. The referential continuity is thus lexically oblique but semantically tight, creating a coherence not by cohesion but by logical and metaphorical adjacency.

Notably, Egbert’s text is not a mere collection of isolated sententiae, nor does it read like a florilegium in which authorities are listed alphabetically or by source. Rather, it is constructed according to moral topology, a textual geography in which clusters of wisdom are arranged in proximity to reinforce one another’s didactic effect. The result is a rhetorical coherence that arises less from textual signals and more from the reader’s recognition of moral progression, structural symmetry, and thematic echo. This coherence, while “covert” in Beaugrande and Dressler’s terms, is nonetheless forceful, precisely because it relies on cognitive continuity rather than on mechanical linking.48

In sum, Egbert’s Fecunda ratis demonstrates textual coherence, despite or rather because of the sparseness of overt cohesive devices. His strategies are aligned with the classical rhetorical principles of dispositio and decorum, and anticipate what modern text linguistics describes as pragmatic, logical, and thematic coherence. Egbert does not require syntactic bonds to hold his text together. He relies instead on the reader’s capacity to perceive moral structure, ethical consequence, and rhetorical patterning. In this sense, the Fecunda ratis’ coherence is not merely a function of textual arrangement, but an artefact of interpretive design.

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1. 1 Manutius, Geschichte, 535–39.

2. 2 All quotes from the Fecunda ratis follow the edition by Voigt, Fecunda ratis, were double checked with the Cologne manuscript, and are referenced by book and verse. All English translations are by the author of this article.

3. 3 Cologne, Erzbischöfliche Diözesan- und Dombibliothek, Cod. 196. On this manuscript, see Plotzek et al., Glaube und Wissen, 321–23, and Senner, Geschichte der Kölner Dombibliothek, 204.

4. 4 See Voigt, Fecunda ratis, v–ix.

5. 5 Ibid., xxi.

6. 6 On this development, see Baldzuhn, Schulbücher, vol. 1, 22–44.

7. 7 For more details, see Weijers, Evolution of the trivium.

8. 8 See Babcock, Egbert of Liège and St Martin.

9. 9 Witte, Catalogus Sigeberti Gemblacensis, 93: Egebertus clericus Leodiensis scripsit metrico stilo de enigmatibus rusticanis librum primo brevem, sed ampliato rationis tenore scripsit de eadem re librum alterum maiusculum.

10. 10 On the development of the Liège cathedral school, see Renardy, Les écoles liégeoises. As a whole, Liège was a boomtown in these decades; see Hirschmann, Konjunkturprogramme.

11. 11 Jaeger, The Envy of Angels, 54–56. The Liège cathedral school turned out to be especially influential in the German Empire, see Kupper, Liege et l’église imperial.

12. 12 Lutz, Schoolmasters of the Tenth Century, 21.

13. 13 The two volumes of Kurth provide a rich account: Notger de Liege et la civilisation au Xe siècle. For more on Notker, Liège, and his times, see the essays in Delville et al., Notger et Liège.

14. 14 Voigt, Fecunda ratis, 193 (1.1519): Preteriitque (et eó plus) quinquagesimus annus.

15. 15 Renardy. Les écoles liégeoises, 321–23.

16. 16 Neumeister, Geschichten vor und nach dem Sprichwort.

17. 17 Eikelmann, Sprichwort im Sammlungskontext, 95–107.

18. 18 Benary, Salomon et Marcolfus, 15, v. 87b.

19. 19 Singer, Sprichwörter des Mittelalters, vol. 1, 42. The closest translation to the vernacular is noted from a much younger, fifteenth century manuscript in Morawski, Proverbes français, 78 (no. 2146): “Qui son chien viaut tuer la rage li met sus.”

20. 20 Grimm, Vridankes Bescheidenheit, 183, v. 17–18.

21. 21 Eikelmann, Sprichwort im Sammlungskontext, 111. On the theological term Kunstspruch and its implication, see Preuß, Weisheitsliteratur, 36–37.

22. 22 Niewöhner, Neues Gesamtabenteuer, vol. 1, 17.

23. 23 Neumeister, Geschichten vor und nach dem Sprichwort, 210.

24. 24 Cited from a Berlin manuscript by Eikelmann, Sprichwort im Sammlungskontext, 103. On the Proverbia Fridanci see Klapper, Sprichwörter.

25. 25 Simon, Priamel, Short Verse Poems, and Proverbs, 30–33.

26. 26 Eikelmann, Sprichwort im Sammlungskontext, 105.

27. 27 See Coseriu, Structure lexicale et enseignement du vocabulaire, 194–96.

28. 28 Singer, Sprichwörter des Mittelalters, vol. 1, 94–95.

29. 29 Voigt, Fecunda ratis, 80.

30. 30 Maaz, Brotlöffel, haariges Herz und wundersame Empfängnis, 110.

31. 31 Voigt, Fecunda ratis, 173 (1.1140–1144).

32. 32 See Mieder, Thesaurus proverbiorum medii aevi.

33. 33 For an inspiring though not historical example, see Hamidi et al., Proverbs Translation.

34. 34 Voigt, Fecunda ratis, 20 Fn. 84.

35. 35 I thank Péter Bara for pointing me at this.

36. 36 Bland, Use of Proverbs in Two Medieval Genres of Discourse.

37. 37 See Jaeger, Envy of Angels, 53–75, and Steckel, Kulturen des Lehrens, 689–885.

38. 38 See McLaughlin, The Word Eclipsed?

39. 39 Hu, Cohesion and Coherence, 34.

40. 40 Beaugrande and Dressler, Introduction.

41. 41 Voigt, Fecunda ratis, 20 Fn. 84.

42. 42 Van Dijk, Text and Context, 93–95.

43. 43 Hadla, Coherence in Translation, 178.

44. 44 Papegaaij and Schubert, Text Coherence, 202.

45. 45 Brown and Yule, Discourse Analysis, 66.

46. 46 Hadla, Coherence in Translation, 181.

47. 47 Papegaaij and Schubert, Text Coherence, 127.

48. 48 Beaugrande and Dressler, Introduction, 31.