The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic, 1590–1670

THE EMANCIPATION OF BIBLICAL PHILOLOGY IN THE DUTCH REPUBLIC, 1590–1670

DIRK VAN MIERT

1 1 Great Clarendon Street, Oxford, OX2 6DP, United Kingdom Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries © Dirk van Miert 2018 The moral rights of the author have been asserted First Edition published in 2018 Impression: 1 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by licence or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press 198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Data available Library of Congress Control Number: 2018938572 ISBN 978–0–19–880393–5 Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY Links to third party websites are provided by Oxford in good faith and for information only. Oxford disclaims any responsibility for the materials contained in any third party website referenced in this work. For Sarah and Myriam

Acknowledgements

This book was written in the context of a research project on ‘Biblical Criticism in the Seventeenth Century’ (project no. 360-25-090), financed by the Netherlands Organisation for Scientific Research (NWO), led by Piet Steenbakkers (Utrecht University) and Henk Nellen (Huygens Institute for the History of the Netherlands—Royal Netherlands Academy of Arts and Sciences). Apart from the continuous support and critical input of these two people, I am heavily indebted to Jetze Touber, who as a fourth researcher on this project has written a monograph on biblical philology in the Dutch Republic after Spinoza. All three have read this entire monograph in various stages of (non-)comple- tion, and I have benefitted immensely from their comments, in particular from Jetze’s, and from the many discussions the four of us have conducted over the years. I am also grateful to Huygens ING and its executive board for having me hosted for the more than three years it took to conduct my research in what proved to be the most stimulating environment I could ever have wished for. I owe special thanks to all members of the research group History of Science, and notably to Charles van den Heuvel and Eric Jorink. I am indebted to numerous colleagues who have read drafts and provided comments and critique so solid that it often left me doubting the wisdom of having signed up for this research. I single out Jan Bloemendal, Theodor Dunkelgrün, Paul Gillaerts, Henk Jan de Jonge, Anthony Ossa-Richardson, and a number of anonymous referees who commented on parts (originally) of chapters 3 and 6, which were submitted to journals in revised form as independent articles. The responses of audiences at various conferences, symposia, and workshops in Amsterdam, Oxford, Leuven, Innsbruck, and Utrecht have, in subtle ways, fed into this book. I owe a very special thanks to James Gibbons, a very acute and knowledgeable editor who polished up my English almost beyond recognition and put his finger on a number of important inconsistencies. I also thank Mark Rogers for scrutinizing the text. Most of all, I am grateful for the unabated support of Geer, who kept me going every time I lost confidence. This book is dedicated to our daughters, Sarah and Myriam. In the years that they were born, during the protracted final stages of editing this book, I realized how foolish it is to compare the writing and publishing of libri with the carrying and delivery of liberi.

Contents

List of Illustrations xi Preface xiii

Introduction: Biblical Philology in the Sixteenth Century 1 Classical Philology and Biblical Philology 1 Biblical Philology before and during the Reformation 3 Biblical Philology in the ‘Golden Age’ 11 Tolerance and the Institutions of Control: The Hand that Feeds 14 The Erosion of the Authority of Tradition 14 England, Switzerland, France, and Germany 16 Central Question and Sub-Questions 21 1. Joseph Scaliger: The Power of Philology (1590–1609) 22 1.1. Scaliger, Philologist 22 1.2. Scaliger’s Biblical Philological Annotations as Printed Posthumously in his Letters 26 1.3. Scaliger’s Biblical Philology in his Unpublished Letters to De Thou and to Seguin 29 1.4. Scaliger’s Biblical Philology in the Scaligerana 36 1.5. Scaliger’s Biblical Philology in the Margins of his Books 47 1.6. The Limits of Freedom 49 2. Biblical Philology: Nothing Radical (1609–1619) 53 2.1. The Limits of Philology 53 2.2. The Controversy Starts 54 2.3. Jacobus Arminius 55 2.4. Franciscus Gomarus: The Biblical Philologist 63 2.5. Johannes Drusius 69 2.6. Hugo Grotius’s De imperio and Ordinum pietas 73 2.7. Conclusions 76 3. Mobilizing Biblical Philology: The States’ Translation (1619–1637) 78 3.1. Philology: Handmaiden to Philology 78 3.2. Making the States’ Translation 78 3.3. Revising the Old Testament States’ Translation 86 3.4. Revising the New Testament 93 3.5. The Use of the States’ Translation 100 4. The Biblical Philology of Daniel Heinsius (1619–1640) 103 4.1. Heinsius: Leiden’s Star 103 x Contents

4.2. Heinsius’s Biblical Philology 105 4.3. Heinsius and Selden 125 4.4. Conclusions 129 5. Grotius’s Annotationes on the Bible (1619–1645) 133 5.1. Grotius and the Utility of Philology 133 5.2. Making the Annotationes 133 5.3. Contents of the Annotationes 141 5.4. Reception of the Annotationes 163 5.5. Conclusions 165 6. Claude Saumaise and the ‘Hairy War’ (1640–1650) 170 6.1. The Outbreak of the Hairy War 170 6.2. Historical Contexts 172 6.3. Against Long Hair on Men: Udemans and Borstius 175 6.4. Florentius Schuyl 179 6.5. Non-biblical Assessments 183 6.6. Saumaise Enters the Fray 185 6.7. A Latin Utopian Satire 189 6.8. Conclusions 191 7. Radical Philology: Isaac de La Peyrère (1643–1660) 193 7.1. Isaac de La Peyrère and the Salmasian Network 193 7.2. La Peyrère’s Use of Saumaise and Scaliger 198 7.3. La Peyrère’s Biblical Philology 201 7.4. First Responses to Du Rappel des Iuifs 204 7.5. First Responses to the Praeadamitae 207 7.6. Conclusions 211 8. On the Eve of Spinoza: The Rise of Biblical Philology (1650–1670) 213 8.1. The Status of the Masoretic Text 213 8.2. Textual Criticism and Antiquarianism 214 8.3. Isaac Vossius and Chronology 220 8.4. On the Eve of Spinoza 225 8.5. Conclusions 229 Conclusion: The Emancipation of Biblical Philology (1590–1670) 231 Introduction 231 Philology: A Neutral Instrument or an Intrinsic Force of Change? 231 Socioeconomic Positions 239 Fashioning Biblical Philology 245 Bibliography 253 General Index 281 Index Locorum Biblicorum 294 List of Illustrations

Figure 1. The first page of the States’ Translation (1637). Image by courtesy of Leiden University Library (shelf mark 1194 A 5). 91 Figure 2. Godefridus Udemans, engraving by Johannes Saragon, 1635. Eight years before the outbreak of the Hairy War, he still had some hair. Image by courtesy of Leiden University Library (shelf mark PK-P-111.612). 176 Figure 3. Polyander à Kerckhoven at seventy-seven, engraving by Cornelis van Dalen (I), after a painting by David Baudringien, 1645. Image by courtesy of the Rijksmuseum (shelf mark RP-P-BI-6714). 184 Figure 4. The long-haired Florentius Schuyl in 1666; portrait (oil on copper) by Frans van Mieris the Elder. Image by courtesy of Mauritshuis, The Hague (Inventory Number 107). 185 Figure 5. A coin with the head of Moses (Saumaise, Epistola ad Colvium, 79). Image by courtesy of Leiden University Library (shelf mark 603 G 1). 188 Figure 6. A coin, with the head of Moses (Schickardus,Tarich, 34). Image by courtesy of Leiden University Library (shelf mark 388 C 14). 188 Figure 7. El Streto d’Anián (detail of a map in the paratext of the 2nd edition of the States’ Translation (1657)). Image by courtesy of Leiden University Library (shelf mark 1169 A 2). 219

Preface: What This Book is (Not) About

Around 1604, the famous French scholar Joseph Scaliger confided something to his boarding students: There are more than fifty additions or changes to the New Testament and to the Gospels. It’s a strange case, I dare not say it. If it were a pagan author, I would speak of it differently.1 This often-quoted passage reveals a great deal about the deconstructive power of philology in general and of biblical philology in particular. This book deals with the emancipation of biblical philology and this development’s consequences for the authority of the Bible. I understand ‘(biblical) philology’ to be the study of a (biblical) text by means of textual criticism, linguistic analysis, and historical contextualization. These terms are anachronistic in that the writers and scholars in the period under consideration would not have understood what they were doing in this way, but they are apt terms for what I aim to describe. The broad sense in which I use textual criticism includes the identification of variant readings (and sometimes opting for the best one) through the collation of manuscripts or on the basis of comparisons of the Hebrew and Greek texts with the Septuagint and the Vulgate; it also includes conjectural emendations. By linguistic analysis I mean the discussion of semantics and syntax, which seventeenth-century scholars often conducted by comparing different translations. Linguistic analysis in this book encompasses the meanings and ambiguities of words, the study of idiomatic expressions, and the sociolinguistic situation of the biblical authors. Historical contextualization is my label for analyses of the political, military, religious (ritual, calendrical, theological), and cultural situations in which the biblical texts took shape, including aspects of material culture. Much of this historical contextualization involved biblical antiquarianism. Perhaps one might as well speak of ‘historical criticism’.2 I will consistently refer to this triad to avoid confusion with the term ‘biblical exegesis’, which people use in the sense both of the study of textual or linguistic criticism and the theological or dogmatic ‘interpretation’ of the text (more true to the Greek meaning of the word). I will steer clear of dogmatic discussions if these are not explicitly predicated in one way or another on textual criticism,

1 Secunda Scaligerana, 399, s.v. Josephe: ‘Il y a plus de 50 additions ou mutations au Nouveau Testament et aux Evangiles; c’est chose estrange, je n’ose la dire; si c’estoit un Auteur profane, j’en parlerois autrement.’ 2 For the observation that philology had mutated into historical criticism by the end of the sixteenth century, see Levitin, ‘From Sacred History to the History of Religion’, 1123. xiv Preface: What This Book is (Not) About linguistic analysis, or historical contextualization. I have used the term ‘biblical criticism’ sparingly, because I reserve ‘criticism’ to denote textual criticism. Besides, ‘critique’ may have unduly negative connotations for some readers less familiar with the history of scholarship, whereas most biblical critics in fact attempted to make the biblical text secure, not to destabilize it (the term indicates the ability to make clear distinctions). In some cases, I will use the term ‘biblical scholarship’ to describe biblical philology as an endeavour and not so much as a method.3 One last thing I will not do is to consider biblical hermeneutics, i.e., the theorizing of the conditions that govern the interpretation of the text. Again, philology (or criticism) in many cases is about these conditions (in particular when explicitly treated as ars critica), but I have focused as much as possible on practices and not on theory. More often than not, the quotidian practices carried out in the thick bushes of annotations at the bottom or in the margins of densely printed pages are not in line with the neat professions of faith proclaimed in prefaces. For centuries, humanists had fought battles over the interpretations of classical texts. These discussions focused on textual variants, references in the texts to historical and mythological circumstances, meanings of words, comparisons of Latin texts with their Greek models, rhetorical structures, literary analyses, and implicit historical contexts. Having cut their teeth on these pagan texts, classical philologists found themselves on dangerous ground if they turned away from Greek and Roman antiquity and ventured to apply their sharp philological tools to antiquity’s supreme book: the Bible. Scaliger’s apprehen- sion, as evident from the quotation that appears at the beginning of this preface, was justified: philology eventually contributed significantly to the erosion of scriptural authority. But it did so in ways that were by no means straightforward or intentional. Philology as a method lay at the foundation of the Protestant principle of sola scriptura. For at least a century-and-a-half, between Erasmus and Spinoza, Protestant scholars mobilized philology to secure the authority of Scripture against the Church of Rome, which defended the Vulgate, the late-fourth-century Latin translation attributed in its entirety to Jerome. Hermeneutical theories about the role that ought to be assigned to philology differed from one exegete to the next. I point out that such theories were usually governed by larger

3 Lloyd-Jones, ‘Introduction’, vii, explaining why Wilamowitz-Moellendorff’s Geschichte der Philologie was translated into English as History of Classical Scholarship, notes (in 1982) that ‘for most people “philology” has come to mean “comparative philology”, and “comparative philology” means “comparative study of language”’. As Sheldon Pollock noted in an oft-cited article, philology to some literary critics means the art of slow reading. I use a more restricted definition than Pollock’s rather inclusive rough working definition of philology as ‘the discipline of making sense of texts. It is not the theory of language—that’s linguistics—or the theory of meaning or truth— that’s philosophy—but the theory of textuality as well as the history of textualized meaning.’ See Pollock, ‘Future Philology?’, 934. Preface: What This Book is (Not) About xv

concerns over religious, political, or philosophical interests and ideas. Had they not been, philology would have been left only the emphasizing of particu- larities and the deconstruction of larger narratives. And if a larger framework were absent, how could one evaluate the evidence brought by philologists, who tended to disagree among themselves perhaps as often as theologians or philosophers did?4 Although it was by no means self-evident that philology undermined the authority of Scripture, this study assumes that in the long run, biblical philology did contribute significantly to this erosion. It attempts to describe and analyse part of this process. The present monograph shows how Jacob Arminius, Franciscus Gomarus, the translators and revisers of the States’ Translation (the Dutch Authorized Version of 1637), Daniel Heinsius, Hugo Grotius, Claude Saumaise, Isaac de La Peyrère, and Isaac Vossius all drew on techniques developed by classical scholars of Renaissance humanism, notably Scaliger, who devoted themselves to the study of manuscripts, Near Eastern languages, and ancient history. I will assess and compare the accomplishments of these scholars in textual criticism, the analysis of languages, and the reconstruction of political and cultural historical contexts, and I hope to demonstrate that their methods were closely linked. The selections of texts of these scholars, studied below, are based on two criteria. First, most were in one way or another connected to Scaliger, although this does not apply to the majority of the people responsible for the States’ Translation. A second criterion is that the texts discussed below have thus far received only scant attention. The biblical philology of Scaliger has been well studied, and Drusius’s annotations on the New Testament, Gomarus’s Davidis Lyra, Grotius’s Annotationes, La Peyrère’s Praeadamitae, and Isaac Vossius’s On the True Age of the World have also received some attention, but much more can be said about these and other works. Arminius’s biblical philology has never been studied, and this book presents the most elaborate account to date of the making of the States’ Translation, of Heinsius’s Aristarchus sacer and Sacrae exercitationes, and of the contributions to the discussion of men with long hair by Saumaise and others. It also, and for the first time, examines the earliest responses to La Peyrère, which can be found in disputations defended at Leiden University. In addition, it draws on unpublished correspondence to and from Heinsius and on a number of pamphlets that have never before been discussed. Admittedly, this study might also have taken into account the accomplishments, obvious from a number of existing studies, of Thomas Erpenius, Jacobus Golius, Sixtinus Amama, Ludovicus de Dieu, and Constantin L’Empereur. They would have contributed much to enforcing the concept of a ‘Scaliger school’ centred in Leiden, but as I am neither a Hebraist nor an Arabist, I found it wiser not to treat these scholars’ works.

4 Hardy, ‘Impartiality’, 299. xvi Preface: What This Book is (Not) About

I have limited myself geographically to the Dutch Republic and chronologically to the years beginning with the zenith of Joseph Scaliger’s stardom in the 1590s and ending with the publication of Spinoza’s outrageous Theological-Political Treatise in 1670. First, a note on chonology. Historians have designated this period as a ‘pre-critical’ period.5 This book argues that this label makes little sense. A number of recent dissertations have underscored that there was a great deal of very critical biblical scholarship and antiquarianism in this ‘pre-critical’ period.6 In the decades covered in the chapters to follow, sophisticated biblical philology went from being a speciality of classical scholars like Joseph Scaliger and developed into the liberal arts’ most fashionable research subject. In the 1640s, biblical philology spread beyond academia and found its way in the vernacular to a large audience. It then evolved into an academic teaching subject in the 1650s. On the whole, philology achieved a degree of independence from theology, hence the word ‘emancipation’ in the title of this book. It was in this period that whoever wanted to count as a scholar to be reckoned with in the highly contentious Republic of Letters turned towards the Bible. ‘Doing’ biblical philology required not just profound knowledge of Latin, Greek, and, of course, Hebrew, but also familiarity with Aramaic, Syriac, and Arabic. In the period 1620–1650 in particular, classical philology gave way to biblical philology. Grotius, Saumaise, and John Selden, the triumvirate of the Republic of Letters who succeeded Justus Lipsius, Scaliger, and Isaac Casaubon, figured as emblems of learning and as models setting the agenda for biblical philology. Scaliger contributed profoundly to this shift in orientation through his students Heinsius and Grotius. Saumaise, too, can in many ways be considered Scaliger’s student. They were three of the most eminent representatives of a much broader fashion of biblical philology, which featured scholars like father and son Buxtorf, Jean Morin, Louis Cappel, La Peyrère, Isaac Vossius, and Brian Walton. They built on the Herculean labours of the makers of the Antwerp Polyglot (1568–1573) and on the work of Christian Hebraists such as Johannes Drusius Sr and Sixtinus Amama, and they were heavily indebted to the history of patristic authors advanced by Melchior Cano, Cesare Baronio, and Casaubon. A major development in the spread of biblical philology and the growing currency of the historical evaluation of the Bible was the appearance of biblical studies conducted in the vernacular. Since the early 1640s, biblical philology in the United Provinces increasingly found its way to press in Dutch instead of in

5 See Steiger, ‘The Development of the Reformation Legacy’, 700, who singles out Gotlobb Wilhelm Meyer, Hans-Joachim Krause, and Henning Graf Reventlow as originating the idea of a ‘precritical’ period. For Simon as the watershed between a pre-critical and a critical era, see Gibert, ‘The Catholic Counterpart’, 763 and 767. 6 Shalev, Sacred Words and Worlds; Dunkelgrün, ‘The Multiplicity of Scripture’; McDonald, Biblical Criticism. Preface: What This Book is (Not) About xvii

Latin. The appearance of the States’ Translation in 1637 might have something to do with this development. The translators of the States’ Translation pored over manuscripts, ancient and recent translations, and a library of critical apparatuses to provide their readers with a faithful vernacular version of God’s Word. The printed marginalia of the edition bear traces of many of their philological discussions. It would require a separate monograph to address the impact of the translators’ choices and their marginal annotations, but suffice it to say here that the States’ Translation was a point of reference in polemics over historical aspects of the Bible, such as the Sabbath, practices of usury, fashion in hair, the antiquity of the world, and the origin of nations, which were partly translated into Dutch or appeared in Dutch straightaway. These controversies opened up biblical philology for larger segments of the population, including women. They broadcast what had become a mainstream debate among philologists about the reconciliation of the growing historicity of the biblical text with its authority as a guide for moral conduct.7 Crossing the linguistic boundary was recognized as threatening when it concerned unorthodox ideas. When discussed within the exclusive circle of Latinate ‘professionals’, such ideas might be tolerated, but when they hit the presses in the vernacular, censorship was not far away. Even women could then read what the highly educated men were discussing. Finally, biblical philology started to appear on the curricula of Dutch universities in the 1650s, when students defended disputations that did not merely uphold the self-evidence and perspicuity of Scripture, as they had done in previous decades, but that also dealt with questions of a philological nature. As to geography, Leiden University takes centre stage. Scaliger lived and worked in Leiden during his most influential years. Spinoza’s house in Rijnsburg was about an hour-and-a-half’s walk from Leiden University. Scaliger’s students Grotius and Heinsius were raised in Leiden. Drusius and Gomarus participated, from highly different perspectives, in the great debate over Remonstrantism in the 1610s, which brought the Dutch Republic to the brink of civil war, and both were accomplished biblical critics. Saumaise practised biblical philology in Leiden as well, where he was frequently joined by the young Vossius. La Peyrère was inspired by Saumaise when he met him in Leiden and before he provoked Vossius to enter the fray of biblical philology. This is to say that some of the major protagonists in the history of biblical philology of the first half of the seventeenth century had a strong connection with Leiden. So deeply influenced were they by Scaliger that one might speak of a ‘Scaliger school’: Scaliger exerted a huge ‘programmatic influence’.8 In England, for example, seventeenth-century scholars of natural philosophy and

7 Levitin, ‘From Sacred History to the History of Religion’, 1127; Malcolm, Aspects of Hobbes, 420. 8 Levitin, ‘From Sacred History to the History of Religion’, 1124. xviii Preface: What This Book is (Not) About theology, orthodox and heterodox alike, all invested heavily in the type of critical and humanist scholarship that had been developed on the continent by the likes of Scaliger and Isaac Casaubon (1559–1614): a textual-critical and sociolinguistic approach, sensitive to the unique cultural contexts of texts from antiquity.9 One such influence was Scaliger’s interest in Near Eastern languages. In his wake, scholars such as Thomas Erpenius, Jacobus Golius, and Constantin L’Empereur made Leiden an intellectual powerhouse of Arabic and Hebrew studies, at a time when Franeker University had also become a stronghold of Hebrew studies. The study of Maimonides in particular proved a stimulus for the development of biblical philology.10 Admittedly, these chronological and geographical limitations are practical, if not arbitrary. Surely, Valla and Erasmus, Bombergh and Benito Arias Montano (1527–1598), Beza and Henricus Stephanus (Henri Estienne), to name but a few, are part of a grand narrative which could be extended further back into the sixteenth century than I have done here.11 Surely, too, scholars in France, the Vatican, the Habsburg Empire, England, the German countries, just as the biblical critics in Scandinavian regions and Central and Eastern European territories, take an active part in this history, as chapter 1 demonstrates. My goal, then, is limited: this book presents but one part of a much larger story. But it is a part that deals with a crucial period and place, when biblical philology was on the eve of turning radical. The widely entrenched tradition of biblical philology, with all its rival confessional agendas and political interests, was not only firmly in place, but even proved popular when Spinoza seized on it in his Theological-Political Treatise. How Spinoza precisely did this is not the subject of this study. Anthony Grafton, following previous aborted attempts by now largely forgotten scholars, has recently demonstrated that Spinoza, in the philological chapters of the Treatise, was indeed intimately, if not perfectly, familiar with this tradition. What I want to show is that, before Spinoza, more people than ever before were well aware that the biblical text posed textual, linguistic, and historical problems and that these, ironically, became more serious with every new attempt to solve them. To better understand the pertinent chronology and geography, however, it seems wise to provide, by way of an introduction in chapter 1, an admittedly very general chronological and geographical survey of the tradition of biblical philology, of which this book treats only one part. Of course, the history of biblical philology in the Renaissance should be, and has been, considered in the context of other crucial developments, notably in natural history (or physics), astronomy (or mathematics), and philosophy.

9 Levitin, Ancient Wisdom, 19, 71, 119–23, 455, 538. 10 Katchen, Christian Hebraists, passim. 11 See Levitin, ‘From Sacred History to the History of Religion’, 1125, for the observation that historians are shifting the rise of biblical criticism to pre-Spinozan periods. Preface: What This Book is (Not) About xix

Profound epistemological changes in these fields influenced the reading of the Bible and did not cease doing so. It has become clear, for example, that defenders of Copernicanism recognized that the Bible consists of historical texts and that the Bible was written in a language attuned to people at a certain time and place in history. This idea of ‘accommodation’ highlighted the historicity of the Bible. Kepler understood the historicity of the Bible, and so did Newton, who acknowledged that the text of Scripture had been corrupted and took refuge in philology next to natural philosophy and history, in an attempt to penetrate as deeply as possible into God’s creation.12 The accommodation theory played an important role in the discussion about miracles, in which knowledge of nature seemed to clash with revelation. But the relation between scientiae such as natural science and biblical philology on the one hand, and biblical authority on the other, was by no means straightforward. As Brad Gregory has recently stated, the natural sciences, no less than textual biblical philology per se, ‘did not and could not have demonstrated that miracles had not or could not have h a p p e n e d ’. 13 Nor can the polemics over the Bible be understood without taking into account the advanced spread of information due to the printing press, the widening of the European horizon due to contact with the Americas, or the new observations of flora, fauna, and astronomical phenomena and their implications for the relation between the readings of the ‘two Books’: the Bible and the Book of Nature. The New Philosophy and the erosion of the Aristotelian worldview showed that theology and philosophy were, as they always had been, intimately connected, despite the attempts of Descartes and his adversaries to keep them apart. Whether classical and biblical philology was stimulated by Baconian ideas concerning the value of fact-finding, accumulation, and organization is also a question not dealt with in this monograph. I do suggest, however, that biblical philology was rooted in a humanist tradition that preceded the rise of Baconianism, Cartesianism, and Spinozism. In my view, the rise of the New Sciences (I consciously avoid the contested and perhaps out-dated term ‘Scientific Revolution’), and in particular of observational and experimental practices, was connected, in ways we still need to establish, to the intrinsically empirical epistemology which informed the exercise of philology.14 Philologists were trained to collect and compare data, to look for regularities, and to come up with hypotheses (conjectures) to explain anomalies, and to submit them to scrutiny by discussing them in letters or presenting them in publications. Humanist philology was a highly social enterprise, conducted by citizens of the

12 Methuen, ‘On the Threshold of a New Age’, 272 (Copernicans), 277 (Kepler) and 687 (Newton); Wiles, ‘Newton and the Bible’. 13 Gregory, The Unintended Reformation, 63 and 413, note 116. My emphasis. 14 Van Miert, ‘Philology and Empiricism’. xx Preface: What This Book is (Not) About imagined community known as the Republic of Letters, and it was this same commonwealth of learning, this scientific community, in which the New Sciences and New Philosophies took shape. The implication of my approach is that humanist philology played a larger role in the history of science than has hitherto been acknowledged; and it should be taken into account as an explanatory mechanism, not so much because of the well-known fact that humanists made available the texts of antiquity and stimulated scholars and scientists by confronting them with the ideas conveyed by these texts, but because of the epistemological foundations informing the methods they employed to make these texts available. The historicist character of those methods has been shown to be one of the pedigrees of modernity.15 For seventeenth- and eighteenth- century classicists, this was inconsequential. This study ignores the association of ‘humanism’ with scepticism, however much biblical philology can be placed in a ‘humanist’ tradition characterized by epistemic humility. Humanism, the New Sciences, and the New Philosophies came to be tied into the same disputes in which biblical polemics also partook and which shaded into one another: disputes over the desirability or necessity of the toleration of diverging opinions, over the libertas philosophandi, over the proper division of State and Church power (which made it political), and, ultimately, over ‘secularization’. This book does not deal with ‘secularization’ as an explanatory concept. However, insofar as readers may think of ‘secularization’ as an implicit corol- lary of what is argued here, I need to point out that the term as I would understand it does not mean atheism (as a nonreligious worldview), secularism (as an ideology opposed to religion), dechristianization, or dwindling church attendance. If I had incorporated the concept of ‘secularization’ in this study, it would not have had anything having to do with changes in personal beliefs, but with the cessation of the Church’s control over society and the slackening of the grip of Christian theology in all sorts of domains that are not properly theological or ecclesiastical. Secularization would thus concern the process by which universal claims over the correct theological interpretation of the Bible lost their moral and legal power to dictate these interpretations to an entire society. This legal detachment

15 It has been suggested that the rise of antiquarianism, and thus of historical criticism, in the sixteenth century played an important role in the rise of the New Sciences in the seventeenth century. See Ashworth Jr, ‘Natural History and the Emblematic World View,’ 332. For other literature of the ‘re-evaluation of the old narrative where a historicist revolution in biblical scholarship is said to begin with one of those three “radical” deniers of the Mosaic authorship of the Pentateuch, Hobbes, Spinoza or La Peyrère, see Levitin, ‘From Sacred History to the History of Religion,’ 1135–6; see also Levitin’s observations on 1140: ‘The famous conclusions of the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries are, in short, being demonstrated to have been the product less of a self-contained “early enlightenment”, applying post-Cartesian scepticism to the field of ancient religious history, and more the gradual outgrowths of the contextualization of the Old Testament from the late sixteenth century onwards.’ See now also Bod, A New History, 151, 240–41. Preface: What This Book is (Not) About xxi meant that attempts to curb religious deviance by a particular church upheld by the State lost their moral and physical power to force people to adhere to certain doctrines. As a consequence, secularization is a process that resulted in a plurality of interpretations being accepted as inevitable, a situation in which verbal confrontations were to be preferred over physical conflict. This process lurks in the background, because biblical philology had consequences for scriptural authority. Thus this monograph potentially has wider implications, but if these were to be treated within a larger framework of something like ‘secularization’, the book’s scope would have been, by necessity, much broader, taking into account wider geographical and social contexts. Such wider contexts include, for example, the French Wars of Religion, which heightened the stakes of biblical philology. The Dutch Revolt caused Calvinism to define itself ever more strictly, highlighting distinctions that set it apart from Lutheranism and Anglicanism. The impact of the German Thirty Years’ War on scholarship has not yet been sufficiently studied. Politico- ecclesiastical tensions in England caused biblical philology to gain importance, while lay interpretations of the Bible were an important aspect of the Civil War. Politico-religious contexts both stimulated and hampered biblical philology.16 We will assess these circumstances as far as they seem connected to the case studies that are the subjects of the chapters to follow. All these grand themes require a synthetic approach far beyond my abilities. I have resisted temptations to pay arbitrary lip service to these concurrent large narratives, lest I open a Pandora’s box of historiographical polemics. This book is already complicated enough. I do, however, wish to place this book within a particular trend in historiography to emphasize the history of scholarship both in its relation to the history of science and as a field of cultural history in its own right. Since the rise of interdisciplinary studies and the decline of religiously inspired historians’ hold on the history of the Bible in the last two decades of the twentieth century, the history of scholarship has established itself as an interdisciplinary field in the history of ideas, and it has been successful in largely ridding itself of its reputation, popular since the attacks of Enlightenment thinkers such as Voltaire, as unphilosophical pedantry and dead-from-the-waist-down erudition. Biblical history in particular offers grounds to study the confrontation of Eastern and Western traditions, as well as the tensions between religion and science and among rival confessions and intra-confessional interest groups. It shifts the research perspective from a clash between philosophy and religion to the continuity of a tradition of historical criticism, informing what came to be known as the Enlightenment. Dmitri Levitin has recently drawn attention to the rise of the history of scholarship in the historiography that focuses on the

16 Levitin, Ancient Wisdom. xxii Preface: What This Book is (Not) About origin of modernity.17 While the vast majority of this historiography concerns England, France, and Germany, this book applies this line of thought to the geographical centre of the contested narrative: the Dutch Republic in general and Leiden in particular. This monograph reveals that philology was very frequently used to stabilize the biblical text, and was often not in the service of radical agendas. This observation runs counter to the tendency in twenty-first-century historiography to foreground radicalism, heterodoxy, and progressiveness and to enlist ‘science’ (in our case, philology) squarely in the service of modernity. Such a historiography is too linear and too crude. Philology functioned often as a handmaiden of theology. The problem was not so much that biblical philology historicized the Bible, but that it could also serve unorthodox ideas, as any handmaiden could.18 It could be used to support political and eschatological agendas of various parties and individuals, or merely to provide ambitious scholars with a platform to further their careers. However, the accumulation of philological evidence collected by various and often adversarial stakeholders made it more and more difficult to bring these results together into a unanimous Reformed interpretation of the Bible. Gradually, scholars had to acknowledge that the problems of establishing access to an ‘original’ and ‘pure’ Hebrew and Greek text stood in the way of defending the perspicuity and self-evidence of the Bible. So the Bible was assessed and used in novel ways due not only to the results of natural science. Primarily, the innovations in approach stemmed from historical scholarship of the Bible: the study of the transmission, the language, and the historical context of the Bible compromised the self-evidence of Scripture. As such, philology played a complicated role, comparable to the new knowledge of nature, which was generated in the same period. The New Sciences did not automatically lead to ‘secularization’, but more often than not actually supported the idea that nature gave evidence of divine workmanship. Philology likewise forced readers to rethink their relation to the Bible without necessarily dimin- ishing the belief in the divine nature of its message. This book, then, not only seeks to play down the idea of a ‘pre-cricital’ period in biblical philology, but also implies that the rise of biblical philology was intrinsic to the rise of the New Sciences in the seventeenth century. If one would like to maintain the concept of a ‘revolution’ in the seventeenth century, it would be best to speak of a ‘knowledge revolution’ rather than of a ‘scientific’ revolution. That concept is reductionist, since it assumes that natural science is the sole agent of philosophical change, whereas empirical practices and rational thinking were just as well developed, and perhaps even earlier than in natural philosophy, in the domain of textual criticism, linguistic analysis and historical contextualization.

17 Levitin, ‘From Sacred History to the History of Religion’. 18 Levitin, ‘From Sacred History to the History of Religion’, 1127. Preface: What This Book is (Not) About xxiii

The types of arguments Spinoza wielded in the core chapters of his notorious Tractatus theologico-politicus continued an uninterrupted tradition of humanist philological criticism which originated with the Church Fathers and extended through Valla, Erasmus, and the Polyglot Bibles, the steady rise of the profile of Hebrew scholarship, through Scaliger and his Leiden school of philologists, including the growing currency of Arabic, and on into the wider context of Dutch society through vernacular discussions on the role of the Bible in contemporary politics and moral conduct. Spinoza’s Treatise used the language of an existing and well-established academic discipline, which in the fifty years preceding its publication had been made professional, scientific, and even popular in the Dutch Republic.

Introduction: Biblical Philology in the Sixteenth Century

There are as many copies [of the Bible] as there are manuscripts. —Jerome1

This book focuses on biblical philology in the seventeenth-century Dutch Republic, but to understand the development of biblical scholarship in that age, it is necessary to briefly review the history of biblical philology in the preceding century and to relate what happened in the Dutch Republic to developments in science and philosophy and to the history of biblical philology in other European countries. This overview will help frame the central question addressed by this monograph.

CLASSICAL PHILOLOGY AND BIBLICAL PHILOLOGY

During much of the Early Modern period, philology (textual criticism, linguistic analysis, and historical contextualization) usually pertained to classical philology: the study of texts by Greek and Roman authors. Of course, the philological study of the Bible was continuously on the agenda (one need think only of Gianozzo Manetti and Lorenzo Valla), but men like Petrarch, Poggio Bracciolini, Niccolò Niccoli, Giovanni Aurispa, Francesco Filelfo, Coluccio Salutati, Leonardo Bruni, Guarino da Verona, Vittorino da Feltre, and many, many others, published nothing on the Bible. Scholars by and large focused on new or unpublished texts. Biblical commentaries abounded, of course, but most of these held to the quadriga, the hermeneutical division of biblical interpretation into four levels: literal, allegorical (having to do with faith), tropological (morals), and anagogical (eschatology).2 Perhaps because the Bible was widely available, no

1 Praefatio in Evangelia, 526C: ‘Tot enim sunt exemplaria quot codices.’ 2 Hamilton, ‘Humanists and the Bible’, 103. 2 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic one felt the need to develop the story of its text’s constitution into a programme of research. Things changed in the half-century following the advent of the printing press, when the diversity of biblical versions became apparent. Printed editions singled out the whereabouts of ‘old’ manuscripts and facilitated speedy collations. The same fifteenth century saw the fall of the Byzantine Empire and the rise of the study of Greek. With Erasmus’s discovery and publication (1505) of Valla’s annotations on the New Testament, Erasmus’s own edition of the New Testament and his annotations thereon (1516), the foundation of the Collegium Trilingue in Louvain in 1517, and the appearance of the Complutensian Polyglot in 1522, biblical philology gained force. Another, more external reason for humanist philologists to focus on the biblical text was prompted by the changing role of the Bible in religious life, due to the rise of Protestantism. Debates over the earliest history of the Christian tradition transformed patristic literature into a philological battlefield: for Catholics, ecclesiastical history affirmed the position of Rome; Protestants sought to deconstruct that vision by pointing out the vicissitudes of Christian life during its first centuries. On both sides of the religious divide, ecclesiastical antiquarianism rose to prominence in the sixteenth century.3 Tradition was important for Protestants, not only to debunk Catholic claims regarding the earliest history of the Catholic Church, but also because early interpretations of the Bible, and especially citations from it, could contribute to the critical constitution of its original text. Early Protestantism was inspired by the humanist motto ad fontes and the humanist idea of liberating texts from the accretions that had built up over time; restoring such texts to their original purity dovetailed with the Protestants’ effort to rid the Church of what they saw as its temporal corruptions. This constitution was of paramount importance for those who set themselves the task of translating the Bible into the vernacular. There was a huge market for vernacular or lay Bibles in the sixteenth century.4 It was precisely the process of translation that made it necessary to scrutinize the source text and search for parallels in other texts or other versions of the text. Apart from the external circumstances that caused scholars to turn to the Bible, there are also internal reasons why scholars appropriated the Bible as a new field of study. By the mid-sixteenth century, most Greek and Roman texts had been discovered and published, and were even available in print.5 Little new material subsequently came to light, and when it did, it usually concerned

3 Grafton, ‘Renaissance Humanism and Christian Antiquity: Philology, Fantasy, and Collaboration’. 4 For an overview, for example, of all Dutch translations from the past eleven centuries, see Gillaerts et al., eds, De Bijbel in de Lage Landen. 5 Wilamowitz-Moellendorf, History of Classical Scholarship, viii and 52; Reynolds and Wilson, Scribes and Scholars, 165. Introduction: Biblical Philology in the Sixteenth Century 3 minor authors, non-canonical texts, or fragments that allowed for additions or corrections to already known texts. The large body of patristic literature had already come into sight as a new field of study in the fifteenth century, notably due to the activity of Ambrogio Traversari, and its disclosure was continued in sixteenth-century Protestantism by such scholars as Johannes Oecolampadius, Philipp Melanchthon, and Conradus Pellicanus.6 The early history of the Church played a crucial role in the self-understanding of Protestantism. The transmission of the Church Fathers posed fewer difficulties in terms of textual constitution than the classics. Joseph Scaliger’s edition (and partial reconstruction) of Eusebius’s Chronicle in his landmark Thesaurus temporum (1606) confronted one of the few lingering desiderata in patristic editing, notably one which was not even primarily theological or ecclesiastical in character, but chronological.7 Near the end of the sixteenth century, that is, patristic literature, like Greek and Roman literature, no longer offered the promise of fresh fruit, philologically speaking (of course, the debates over the value of the Fathers continued unabated8). Now, the Bible itself came into full sight as new terrain for the practice of philology. Despite the growing attention to the constitution of the biblical text during the fifteenth century and particularly the sixteenth century, this book argues that biblical philology moved to centre philological stage only in the seventeenth century. The Bible posed a challenge because of its complex history of transmission and translation. Studying the Bible required the mastery of a third ancient language, and ideally even of a fourth (Aramaic), fifth (Syriac), and sixth (Arabic). Further opportunities to show off skills in high philology were offered by such arcane sources as the Samaritan Pentateuch or an Ethiopic Psalter. And showing off was important for climbing the ladder of the informal hierarchy of the Republic of Letters.

BIBLICAL PHILOLOGY BEFORE AND DURING THE REFORMATION

The Middle Ages and the Renaissance have been interpreted as a ‘pre-critical’ period, in which models were adopted which can be regarded as preceding the historical-critical method as fully developed in the eighteenth century, and

6 Hamilton, ‘Humanists and the Bible’, 101–2, 113. 7 Unlike his Ecclesiastical History, Eusebius’s Chronicle was largely lost, and partly transmitted only through a Latin translation by Jerome. Eusebius’s Historia ecclesiastica had been printed in the Latin by Ruffinus of Aquileia (c. 345–410) as early as 1474 in Utrecht by Nicolaus Ketelaer and Gherardus de Leempt. 8 See Quantin, Le Catholicisme Classique; Quaintin, The Church of England. See also the literature listed in Levitin, ‘From Sacred History to the History of Religion’, 1142–3, note 110. 4 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic inaugurated by Richard Simon. However, some have countered that the label ‘pre-critical’ fails to do justice to the high level of philological criticism during the seventeenth century.9 This book joins such attempts, giving credit to the accomplishments of critics from the first half of the seventeenth century. Biblical philology was not an invention of the Renaissance. Jerome’s famous dictum, cited at the beginning of this chapter, that ‘there are as many versions [of the Bible] as there are manuscripts’ was by no means a radically new conclusion around 384. A century-and-a-half before, in the 230s, Origen’s famous polyglot edition of the Old Testament, the Hexapla, had given evidence of his awareness of differences among four independent Greek translations of the Hebrew Bible.10 Origen learned much from the Hellenistic school of classical philology in Alexandrian Caesarea, but the study of textual variants as such had an even longer history, harking back to pre-Christian times. In the world of flourishing textual criticism centred at the Library of Alexandria in the third century bc, the Hebrew Bible was translated into Greek: the Septuagint. Tradition had it that this translation was the work of seventy-two translators who independently came up with as many identical versions of the text. It should be noted, however, that the story of the seventy-two (or seventy: LXX), first related in the famous Letter of Aristeas (unmasked as spurious only in Scaliger’s times, as we will see in chapter 1), was transformed over the course of centuries and that emphasis on the simultaneous but independent creation of seventy-two identical Greek translations in seventy-two days crept into the tradition via the Babylonian Talmud (redacted around 220 ad), in which (in Megilla 9a–b) this manipulation of the story is first found. Such manipulation was of course needed to shore up a claim which people well trained in philology must have found hard to believe. That Jerome himself had already demolished the ‘lie’ of the seventy indicates that he stood in a tradition that rejected as impossible the uniformity of several versions of a given text.11 Experience with textual criticism and historical insight into the transmission of manuscripts was not lost during the ‘Middle Ages’, which witnessed ‘renaissances’ during the Carolingian period and the twelfth century, and sustained cultures of biblical translations through south-western Europe.12 One of these medieval biblical critics was Nicholas of Lyra (ca. 1270–1349), the author of the Postillae, a widely read commentary on the literal sense of the Bible, i.e., on the first of the quadriga.13 Lyra downsized these four layers and adopted a

9 See above, note 5. 10 Origen (ca. 184–ca. 254) conceived his Hexapla in the 230s; see Grafton and Williams, Christianity and the Transformation of the Book, 17. 11 Jerome, Praefatio in universum Pentateuchum, 150A–151A. Sometimes the story of the independent but identical translations is ascribed to Philo of Alexandria, but Philo does not write that the translators were separated, nor that each of them worked on the same text(s); see Wasserstein and Wasserstein, The Legend of the Septuagint, 44–5. 12 See Dunkelgrün, ‘The Multiplicity of Scripture’, 5, and the recent literature mentioned there. 13 Muller, ‘Biblical Interpretation’, 26. Introduction: Biblical Philology in the Sixteenth Century 5 twofold reading: one literal, regarding the promise of the Bible, and one spiritual, alluding to the fulfilment of that promise. Lyra was also responsible for a treatise on the difference between the Vulgate and the Hebrew Masoretic text.14 Biblical scholars from the Middle Ages shared an interest in their search for faith, hope, and love, and they held a common assumption of the unity of the scriptural message. In this, they were similar to their Renaissance successors.15 The Italian Renaissance saw an intensification of study in the transmission of biblical texts.16 The interest in the first division of the quadriga, the literal sense, had always been the basis of a theological interpretation. But what was new was the much more persistent emphasis on this literal sense, by means of the study of ancient languages and rhetoric, and the accompanying increase in philological skill in the examination of ancient texts.17 The Italian humanist Gianozzo Manetti (1396–1459) was one of the pioneers in criticizing the Vulgate.18 Lorenzo Valla, who had undermined papal claims to secular power by his philological analysis of the Donation of Constantine, started to voice doubts about the text of the Vulgate.19 Valla, ‘the first significant biblical scholar of the Renaissance’, had turned to the veritas Graeca of the New Testament.20 Erasmus discovered Valla’s notes, published them, and was inspired to expand and improve on Valla’s work. Negotiating the strictures of religious authorities, he tried to create as much room as possible for philological arguments. In 1516, there appeared his edition of the Greek text of the New Testament, his thorough revision of the Vulgate (amounting basically to a new Latin translation), and his Annotationes, explaining his choices. This was a milestone in the history of the Christian Bible. For the first time, the New Testament was published separately from the Old Testament, thus stressing the unique character of Christianity as independent of Judaism. Second, Erasmus was the first to have published a Greek text. Moreover, his edition, and its four revised editions (1519, 1522, 1527, and 1535), proved a critical tour de force: they remained authoritative for future collations of the Greek text (especially the 1535 edition, on which Stephanus based his folio edition of 1550, which was reprinted in vol. 5 [1658] of the famous London Polyglot21), and resulted in the Greek text replacing the Latin text as the point of departure for dogmatic

14 De differentia nostrae translationis ab Hebraica littera veteris testamenti, printed by Cardinal Cisneros, presumably in 1515. See Dunkelgrün, ‘The Multiplicity of Scripture’, 29, n. 9. 15 Muller, ‘Biblical Interpretation’, 22. 16 Such is the general argument of Bentley, Humanists and Holy Writ. 17 Muller, ‘Biblical Interpretation’, 23. 18 See Botley, Latin Translation in the Renaissance; see also Den Haan, ‘Giannozzo Manetti’s New Testament’. 19 Camporeale, ‘Renaissance Humanism,’ 121–3; Monfasani, ‘Criticism of Biblical Humanists in Quattrocentro Italy’, 20. 20 Citation from Monfasani, ‘Criticism of Biblical Humanists in Quattrocentro Italy’, 21; see also Hamilton, ‘Humanists and the Bible,’ 104–5; Bentley, Humanists and Holy Writ. 21 Schenker, ‘The Polyglot Bibles’, 783. According to the title page, the London Polyglot appeared in 1657, but it was printed 1653–1658. 6 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

interpretation. Finally, Erasmus’s Annotationes launched a model for biblical philology,22 even, it appears, for the first polyglot edition of the entire Bible.23 The Complutensian Polyglot had been prepared from 1514 to 1517 and was shortly to appear in Spain. The project comprised, for the Old Testament, the edition of the Hebrew Masoretic text, the Vulgate, and the Septuagint. At the bottom of its pages was printed the Aramaic paraphrase known as the Targum Onkelos, with a Latin translation of its own. The New Testament contained the Greek text and the Vulgate. Although the Greek text was typeset and printed before Erasmus’s text, it took three years before papal approval was granted and another two years before the book was finally issued in 1522, making it tech nically speaking the first printed Greek New Testament, albeit not the first published one.24 The Complutensian project broke open the field so as to allow other trajec- tories. In its wake, some scholars even started to study Syriac versions of the Bible, such as Johann Albrecht Widmanstetter’s (Vienna 1555).25 Other philologists, such as Isidorus Clarius, managed to marshal papal support for their studies, often by proclamations of support for the Vulgate. Such claims were hardly substantiated by the contents of their interpretations, their new translations, or their critical and often multilingual editions. Yet they did not necessarily seek to undermine the authority of the Vulgate, but rather aimed to reconstruct its original sensus. These biblical philologists wanted—or so they claimed—to save the original text of Jerome’s translation from the wreckage of time, and not to question the validity of the original translation as such. The closer the Vulgate’s text was to what Jerome had actually written down, the firmer its security.26 Nevertheless, attempts to restore the original text of the Vulgate, and the corrections of Jerome’s own translational flaws, had the same result: the established text of the Vulgate editions which were in circulation needed to be changed. To do so, philologists had recourse to other versions and translations, to interpretative traditions Christian, Jewish, and beyond. Soon, debates ensued over the status of the Greek Septuagint. These enterprises show that Catholicism allowed considerable freedom to engage with the critical study of the constitution of the biblical text. This is demonstrated by a string of editions of the Hebrew Old Testament: a Hebrew Psalter printed at Bologna in 1477; the Hebrew Old Testament printed at Soncino in 1488; Jean Gerson’s edition of the same, printed at Brescia in 1494; Daniel Bombergh’s landmark edition of the Hebrew Old Testament of 1517– 1518, which appeared with papal approval; and Sante Pagnini’s (1470–1541) translation of the entire Bible (1527).27 Although the Reformation forced Rome

22 De Jonge, Van Erasmus tot Reimarus, 7–8. 23 Dunkelgrün, ‘The Multiplicity of Scripture’, 31. 24 De Jonge, ‘Novum Testamentum a nobis versum’. 25 Hamilton, ‘Humanists and the Bible’, 108. 26 Hall, ‘Biblical Scholarship’, 64–7. 27 See Muller, ‘Biblical Interpretation’, 23–4; Pagnini, ed., Biblia. Introduction: Biblical Philology in the Sixteenth Century 7 to subject biblical philology in Catholic Europe to strong censorship even before the start of the Council of Trent in 1545,28 biblical philology was here to stay, within Catholicism as well as Protestantism. This was manifested by the Antwerp Polyglot of 1568–1573, supervised by the Catholic humanist and biblical philologist Benito Arias Montano. Although in the case of the Antwerp Polyglot, or Biblia Regia, again a great deal of negotiation had to take place before papal authorization was granted, the book did appear. With Rome’s permission, everyone could now see how much, in the case of the Old Testament, the Masoretic Hebrew and a verbatim Latin translation, the Greek Septuagint and its Latin translation, Jerome’s Latin Vulgate translation, and the Aramaic Targumim and their Latin translations, all differed from one another. For the New Testament, it was obvious that the Greek text (including its verbatim Latin translation), the Vulgate, and the Syriac version (the last with its own Latin and Hebrew translations) were all three at variance.29 At the same time, the canons of the Council of Trent confirmed Jerome’s Vulgate as the sole authoritative text. Of course, this situation posed an enormous historical paradox, which continues to be confronted by historians today,30 and one which ran deeper than the incongruity of papal authority and biblical philology: this revealed a conflict between scriptural authority and historical philology. It was no small wonder that precisely the historico-critical portion of the Antwerp Polyglot, the apparatus sacer in volumes 7 and 8, was placed on the Index of Forbidden Books of 1607 and 1612.31 Whereas Catholic biblical philology aimed to restore the Vulgate to its original state rather than to question the quality of the translation itself, in Protestant biblical philology two programmes converged: that of the humanist battle cry ad fontes, and that of the Protestant movement’s striving to model Christendom as much as possible on Christianity in the time of the apostles. The urge to go to the very sources stimulated the study of the Hebrew text. It was men like Conradus Pellicanus and Sebastian Münster who promoted the study of Hebrew, with the latter publishing the Old Testament in Hebrew with his own Latin translation (1535). John Calvin (1509–1564) expected that the humanist programme of Latinity would lead to a purer theology.32 ‘To the elect, who were granted enlightenment, Scripture was never obscure’, as Erika Rummel has put it.33 But in Protestant domains biblical philology was never as unfettered as secular classical scholarship. Freely emending the Hebrew Masora or the Greek New

28 Hamilton, ‘Humanists and the Bible’, 113–14. 29 The literal Latin translations of the Hebrew Old Testament and Greek New Testament appeared separately in the eighth and last volume. 30 The most recent, and most thorough, treatment being Theodor Dunkelgrün’s 2012 dissertation ‘The Multiplicity of Scripture’. 31 Schenker, ‘The Polyglot Bibles’, 777. 32 Hall, ‘Biblical Scholarship’, 41. 33 Rummel, The Confessionalization of Humanism, 74. 8 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

Testament could have consequences for the theological exegesis of the Bible: critical philology was bound to affect dogmatic interpretation. In practice, this radical potential inherent in biblical philology was usually kept in check, as biblical philology was often practised by rather conservative humanists, who were not prone to advertising Erasmian methods.34 They mixed theology and philology. The Protestant reformer Martin Bucer ‘was given to doctrinal and moral digressions in his commentaries, particularly those on the Gospels and Romans,’35 and so were the reformers Johannes Brenz and Peter Martyr Vermigli.36 Calvin showed a penchant for historical contextualization, and a reluctance to offer christological and trinitarian interpretations of Old Testament passages.37 The sceptical Sebastian Castellio, who against Calvin denied the clarity of Scripture, argued for tolerance of interpretations that differed from orthodoxy. He thought some of the obscurities in the Bible could be clarified by means of textual criticism: ‘God never promised to guide the hands of scribes, so that they would never err in copying Sacred Scripture.’ But God was deliberately obscure in some passages of the Bible, ‘so that there may be room for human effort’.38 The Swiss reformers Oecolampadius, Heinrich Bullinger, and Ulrich Zwingli, as well as Melanchthon, followed Erasmus’s method of textual scrutiny. Oecolampadius’s command of Hebrew was better than Zwingli’s, while Bullinger was perhaps the most thorough of the three.39 Calvin, Oecolampadius, Bullinger, and Melanchthon paid special attention to rhetorical analyses of the biblical text. Luther, meanwhile, had an altogether different programme, focus- ing on theological exegesis rather than textual criticism.40 Textual criticism was at the heart of the editions of the New Testament by Robertus Stephanus (Robert Estienne), which appeared in Paris (1546, 1549, and 1550) and Geneva (1551). These drew upon the editions of Erasmus and the Complutensian Polyglot, but Stephanus’s collation of new Parisian manuscripts led to a superior textual-critical apparatus.41 Stephanus, a printer as well as a (classical) scholar, also printed Theodorus Beza’s revised Latin edition of the New Testament of 1556. Beza also prepared an edition of the Greek text, taking into account new manuscripts, and together with Robertus Stephanus’s son Henricus (Henri II Estienne) he basically established a version of the text that would later be only slightly modified in the Elzevir edition of 1624, which came to be known, in its revision of 1633, as the Textus Receptus.42

34 McDowell, ‘Interpreting Communities,’ 294; Sharpe and Zwicker, ‘Introduction’, 4. 35 Hall, ‘Biblical Scholarship’, 88–90. 36 Muller, ‘Biblical Interpretation’, 27 and 30. 37 Muller, ‘Biblical Interpretation,’, 27 and 30. 38 See Rummel, The Confessionalization of Humanism, 67–9, for my quotations from Castellio. 39 Hall, ‘Biblical Scholarship’, 84–5. 40 Muller, ‘Biblical Interpretation’, 27–8; Hall, ‘Biblical Scholarship’, 85–6. 41 Muller, ‘Biblical Interpretation’, 24. 42 Muller, ‘Biblical Interpretation’, 24. See also chapter 4 in this book on Heinsius’s biblical philology. Introduction: Biblical Philology in the Sixteenth Century 9

‘Textual instability was not welcome, for it meant theological vulnerability’, Jan Krans has observed in his study of Beza’s annotations.43 Beza’s conviction that Scripture is perfect and untouchable, but that the text contains errors and is in need of emendation, put him in an ‘extremely uncomfortable position’.44 Unlike Erasmus, who essentially treated the New Testament no differently than any other ancient text, the Reformed theologian Beza regarded Scripture as the infallible source of salvation.45 Beza ended up providing many variants, but he usually refrained from proposing to change the text. This paradox reveals a fundamental conflict between humanism and the Reformation.46 In Beza’s annotations on the Bible, the distinction between historico-philological criticism on the one hand, and the consequences of changes to the text for theological-dogmatic interpretations on the other, was blurred, and Protestant interpretations were defended that accorded with the views of the (Calvinist) Church and were antagonistic to Catholic teachings.47 After Erasmus, successful attempts were made at damage control in Catholic Europe. Even before the start of the Council of Trent, Cardinal Cajetan (Tomasso de Vio) was castigated for emphasizing the importance of the literal meaning of the biblical text.48 The works of Sadoleto, Contarini, and Bellarmine were regarded by some as having been influenced by Protestantism. Other Catholic biblical critics managed to avoid Erasmian methods of interpretation and focused on linguistic precision. At the fourth session of the Council of Trent, on 8 April 1546, the Vulgate was ruled the ‘editio authentica’ of the Bible, in that it conformed to sound evangelical doctrine. The Vulgate edition of the Bible was accepted and prescribed as the measure for the interpretation of sacred Scripture.49 Since 1592, Catholic studies had to rely on the text of the Sixto-Clementine Vulgate Bible of 1590–1592. The confirmation of the Vulgate as the measure for scriptural interpretation had the paradoxical consequence that it created room for interpreters to involve themselves in biblical philology with the hermeneutics left out50—yes, even with theology left out. As long as one acknowledged the doctrinal primacy of the Vulgate, research into other versions and translations had no doctrinal

43 Krans, Beyond What Is Written, 325. 44 Krans, Beyond What Is Written, 330. Beza’s first edition of the Greek text came out in 1565, the second in 1582, the third in 1592. The fourth edition came out in 1588 or 1589. See the overview of Beza’s editions in Krans, Beyond What Is Written, 345. Beza used (mainly in the second edition) in particular the Codex Bezae (Cambridge University Library) and the Codex Claromontanus (Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France). 45 Krans, Beyond What Is Written, 332. 46 Nellen, Hugo de Groot, 508; Krans, Beyond What Is Written, 347–50. 47 Hall, ‘Biblical Scholarship’, 63, 73, 90–1; Hamilton, ‘Humanists and the Bible’, 113; Krans, Beyond What is Written, 257, 271, 277, 318, 329. 48 Hall, ‘Biblical Scholarship’, 91; Muller, ‘Biblical Interpretation’, 31. 49 Agten and François, ‘The Reception of Trent’s Regula Quarta’, 35;. See Conciliorum Oecumenicorum Generaliumque Decreta, 16, ll. 176–83. 50 Hall, ‘Biblical Scholarship’, 91. 10 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

consequences. Such research had no need for hermeneutical guidelines because no theological reasoning could be based upon these versions. This proved, however, a difficult line to walk. One could not change at liberty the readings in versions of the Bible other than the Vulgate. In both Catholicism and Protestantism, the interpretation of the law, rituals, Christian ethics, and such pivotal and contested dogmas of faith as transubstantiation, free will, and the historical role of St Peter, ultimately rested on words, and of course the meaning of those words was investigated with reference to underlying versions in other languages. There were no clear-cut boundaries between textual criticism, on the one hand, and theological interpretation on the other.51 To a certain extent, editors were always exegetes. The two were bound to clash openly, sooner or later. The historical idea of accommodation, for example, was at odds with a universal theological interpretation. As Peter N. Miller has observed in the case of the Parisian Polyglot, edited by Jean Morin: The ‘antiquarianization’ of biblical scholarship, which is emphatically registered in the prolegomena to the London Bible . . . and shapes the work of eminent contemporary scholars such as Cappel, Grotius, Buxtorf (père et fils), de Muis, Hottinger, Ussher, and, of course, Morin, is the visible expression of the theology of accommodation that underpinned these Bibles. The tension inherent in this position could soon be exploded in Spinoza’s equally historical, though no longer sacred study of the Bible, the Tractatus Theologico-Politicus, and in Simon’s radical revision of the Polyglot Bible as a variorum edition in which the columns of parallel texts that bore witness to the universality of revelation were abandoned in favor of marginal annotation.52 Or, more recently still, as Dunkelgrün has put it with regard to, on the one hand, the authority of the Bible derived from tradition and the magisterium of the Church, and, on the other, the authority based on historico-philological study: pious participants in these debates slowly but surely began to admit, often only with the utmost reluctance and circumspection, that intellectually and methodo- logically, these two conceptions are logically irreconcilable.53 Biblical philology had radical potential in the 1560s, but in that crucial decade the conclusion of the Council of Trent, the establishment of the unity of Lutheran doctrine in the German lands, the Calvinist Confessio Helvetica posterior, and the Belgic Confession all marked the beginning of an era which lasted for about half a century and which effectively capped unorthodox tendencies.54 In this Counter-Reformation era, textual criticism and the linguistic and historical analysis of the biblical text continued to develop, but did so in close relation to systematic theology.55 During this period, biblical philology remained focused

51 Hall, ‘Biblical Scholarship’, 78. 52 Miller, ‘Making the Paris Polyglot Bible’, 83. 53 Dunkelgrün, ‘The Multiplicity of Scripture’, 41. 54 Hall, ‘Biblical Scholarship’, 47. 55 Muller, ‘Biblical Interpretation’, 31. Introduction: Biblical Philology in the Sixteenth Century 11 on finding the meaning of the Bible in the canonical text, which aimed to proclaim a divine message, and not, as in the nineteenth-century higher-critical method, in producing hypothetical predecessor-documents or reconstructions of the Sitz im Leben of individual passages, as Muller has put it. Still, philology was not always successfully made subject to theology: there were circumstances in which philological exegesis slipped out of the hands of the theologians.56

BIBLICAL PHILOLOGY IN THE ‘GOLDEN AGE’

This book emphasizes, as a side observation, that the high level of criticism of the Bible in the tradition of humanist philological scholarship was one of the defining characteristics of the Dutch Golden Age. Broad dissemination of the results of philological enquiry into the Bible was only possible because biblical philology was practised on such a large scale. In fact, it developed into the key area of study within the incipient ars critica. As was briefly sketched above, classical philologists turned towards biblical philology for several reasons. Although the currency of biblical philology was widespread, it was Leiden University that developed into a centre of critical historical philology. Mark Somos even makes the case for a coherent programme of secularizing historical research, propounded by Scaliger, Heinsius, Cunaeus, and Grotius, with history turned into the ‘master-discipline’ of the age.57 I am not at all convinced that there ever was such a programme, but friend and foe did recognize the excellence of Leiden’s historical research, due to the legacy of Scaliger’s sophisticated historical methods. Rather than a secularizing type of history, I think it was biblical philology that attracted so much attention. I would propose to transfer Somos’s fortunate expression of a ‘master-discipline’ from (secularizing) history to (unprogrammatic) biblical philology. There is a certain ‘Scaliger school’ which was not clearly geared towards a confessional agenda and at times was not even useful for theological reasoning, although Reformed visions of the past did offer a larger framework for Scaliger’s approach to history. Underpinning his research was the assumption that the principle ad fontes was at the origin of the Reformation. But the fact that he focused on historical issues and largely ignored theological discussions potentially jeopardized the authority of Scripture. In Leiden, Scaliger’s somewhat distanced antiquarian orientation towards the past broke with the political and philosophical antiquarianism of a Justus Lipsius.58 Whereas Lorenzo Valla’s radical criticism in the case of the Donation

56 Muller, ‘Biblical Interpretation’, 22, 25, and 32. 57 Somos, Secularisation and the Leiden Circle. 58 On the programme of Lipsius’s antiquarianism, see Enenkel, ‘Ein Plädoyer für den Imperialismus’; see also Steenbeek, ‘Lipsius’ Motive für die Saturnales Sermones’. 12 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic of Constantine served the purposes of his patron, and whereas Isaac Casaubon publicly unmasked Hermes Trismegistus in the context of his emphatically anti-Baronian Exercitationes, commissioned by King James I in the heat of the confessional polemics on ecclesiastical history, it served no one that Joseph Scaliger maintained the primacy of the Egyptian lists of pharaohs against the authority of the Old Testament chronology: Genevan doyens protested, and even Casaubon himself, privately but now famously, condemned his much admired exemplar in this instance.59 I also find it hard to find a specific confessional programme in Heinsius’s Sacrae exercitationes, although Heinsius was from the very beginning, at least from 1609 onwards, opposed to Arminianism. At Leiden, biblical philology developed into the cutting-edge research field of philologists. Whoever aspired to be someone in the Republic of Letters had to engage with biblical philology. Before Heinsius and Grotius turned to biblical philology, John Selden had already done so in his antiquarian work De diis Syris (1617), clearly learning from Scaliger and, to a lesser extent, from Isaac Casaubon, whose slow-burning philological influence was not easily extin- guished.60 And when Grotius was prudently waiting for Heinsius’s biblical annotations to appear, Claude Saumaise could not allow himself to lag behind, and compiled his own annotations. If Scaliger, Lipsius, and Casaubon were regarded as the triumvirate of the Republic of Letters around 1600, then the second triumvirate was doubtless formed by Selden, Grotius, and Saumaise.61 Selden’s De diis Syris also contributed to the development of the history of idolatry in the Dutch Republic, through Dionysius Vossius’s (d. 1633) Latin translation of Maimonides’ work on idolatry, De idololatria liber (which Dionysius’s brother Isaac published posthumously in 1641), Gerardus Vossius’s De theologia gentili (1641), and the Geographia sacra (1646) of the prominent French theologian and orientalist Samuel Bochart, who wielded considerable influence over the French Huguenots who had settled in Holland. The ‘Dutch Golden Age’ was an age of capitalism, of painting and engraving, of literature, science, and technology, but above all, the Golden Age was famous because of its learning, with philology carrying the crown. Throughout Europe, the names of Scaliger, Cunaeus, Heinsius, Grotius, and Saumaise resounded, and so did those of their sons and students: Johann Georg Graevius, Johann Friedrich Gronovius, Jacobus Gronovius, Nicolaas Heinsius, and Isaac Vossius.

59 Grafton, ‘Isaac Vossius, Chronologer,’ 63, n. 66. 60 Toomer, John Selden, vol. 1, 211–56. 61 Daniel Heinsius, though very influential in poetry, did not possess the intellectual vigour of the other three. For the concept of learned ‘triumvirate’, see Nisard, Le triumvirat littéraire. In this company Lipsius was, of course, the outsider, who famously turned classical philology into philosophy instead of turning towards the biblical. It is not evident that this alternative orientation had anything to do with his Catholicism. For an approach which challenges the underlying notion of men dominating the Republic of Letters, see Furey, Erasmus, Contarini, and the Religious Republic of Letters, which takes into account Vittoria Colonna and Margaret More Roper. For a reassessment of the late Republic of Letters in this light, see Goodman, The Republic of Letters. Introduction: Biblical Philology in the Sixteenth Century 13

At the same time, Amsterdam developed into a powerhouse of Remonstrant biblical philology, home to the likes of Estienne de Courcelles, Philippus van Limborch, and, above all, the towering figure of Jean Le Clerc. There are many narratives to characterize the Dutch Golden Age, but its fame as an age of humanist scholarship and philological learning is a story that has usually gone untold.62 Hal Cook does pay attention to the world of classical learning, and Eric Jorink comes closest to regarding biblical philology as being central to the Dutch Golden Age.63 The author of the most recent account of the Dutch Golden Age in English, Leslie Price devoted the shortest chapter of his pano- ramic Dutch Culture in the Golden Age to ‘Humanism and the Republic of Letters’. Although Scaliger is never mentioned in this chapter and Erasmus is swept into the discourse as a formative influence,64 the author recognizes the Dutch Republic as being the theological centre of international Calvinism. He draws attention to the philological research of ‘historians, orientalists and students of New Testament Greek’, and points out that the results were neutralized by the theological context of their work: [T]hese [philological] studies were in the main shaped by contemporary dogmatic concerns. The techniques employed by these scholars were potentially revolution- ary, but the questions asked and the context in which they placed their work remained essentially conventional.65 The questions became increasingly less conventional. Spinoza’s Tractatus theologico-politicus appeared right in the middle of hot debates on the status of the biblical text, brought into the open by Isaad de La Peyrère, Georgius Hornius, and Isaac Vossius, and it struck a chord that resounded throughout the century, continuously provoking refutations from other participants in the disputes between philologists and theologians. As Jetze Touber makes clear, biblical philology was at the heart of the refutations of the Tractatus theologico-politicus.66 The Republic of Letters was an essential element of the Dutch Golden Age. Leiden’s supremacy as a centre of humanist scholarship was recognized in Europe all the way to its far corners, the city’s reputation resting on its scholars, its collections, and its printers.67

62 Major syntheses include: Huizinga, Nederland’s beschaving; Boxer, The Dutch Seaborne Empire; Van Deursen, Plain Lives; Schama, The Embarrassment of Riches; De Vries and Van der Woude, The First Modern Economy; Israel, Radical Enlightenment; and Prak, The Dutch Republic. 63 Cook, Matters of Exchange; Jorink, Reading the Book of Nature. 64 Price, Dutch Culture in the Golden Age, 154–65. Scaliger is mentioned only once by Price, when he reviews the influence of the Dutch Republic as a centre of classical philology (228–9). 65 Price, Dutch Culture in the Golden Age, 158–9. 66 Touber, Spinoza and Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic, passim. 67 Colenbrander, ‘De herkomst der Leische studenten’; Otterspeer, Groepsportret, 437; Hoenderdaal, ‘The Debate about Arminius Outside the Netherlands’; Oestreich, ‘Justus Lipsius als Universalgelehrter’; Schneppen, Niederländische Universitäten, 9–15, 57–64; Mijers, ‘News from the Republick of Letters’, 25–47. 14 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

TOLERANCE AND THE INSTITUTIONS OF CONTROL: THE HAND THAT FEEDS

One of the defining characteristics of the Dutch Golden Age is its toleration of religious dissenters and philosophical freethinkers. The Union of Utrecht (1579), in which the Northern provinces of the Netherlands organized themselves against the Habsburgers, declared the principle of freedom of conscience in the provinces of Holland and Zeeland. In the seventeenth century, the level of toleration differed from city to city, Amsterdam being the most tolerant city. In Dordrecht and Leiden, religious coexistence was more problematic, and there were cities such as Deventer, where the Reformed Church had a particularly strong hold over public life. Thus there were limits to religious tolerance and to philosophical enquiry. Nowhere was it allowed to deny the basic tenets of Christian faith, such as the existence of God and the Trinity.68 As ample as the libertas philosophandi may have been when compared to the state of things in other countries, it was by no means a matter of principle. Around 1650, tolerance was not an ideological principle, but a largely practical, temporary solution to a situation of religious plurality. Because people could not be forced to change their religion, coexistence was a fact of life, but many regarded toleration to be undesirable.69 Dutch universities remained closed to professors who refused to subscribe to the Canons of Dordrecht, and the grip of the Reformed Church tightened when, over the course of generations, confessional education began to bear fruit.70 Biblical philology turned radical because the problems it caused came to be known to people who operated outside the institutions of confessional control: namely the churches, the universities, and the political system. For these scholars, pushing forward had no economic consequences. Based on an assessment of the positions of people such as Joseph Scaliger, Jacobus Arminius, Franciscus Gomarus, Johannes Drusius Sr, Daniel Heinsius, the translators of the States’ Translation, Hugo Grotius, Claude Saumaise, Isaac de La Peyrère, Isaac Vossius, and Benedict Spinoza, this book underscores the plausibility of the principle that for philologists, the freer they were from institutions, the more independent their publications seem to have become.

THE EROSION OF THE AUTHORITY OF TRADITION

The development of biblical philology was driven not only by internal dialectics and by social position. Developments in philosophy and science aligned with philology in challenging the authority of tradition.

68 Frijhoff and Spies, Bevochten Eendracht, 180–1. 69 On the ‘toleration’ debate, see Berkvens-Stevelinck et al., The Emergence of Tolerance; see also Kaplan, Divided By Faith, 333–58. 70 Van Miert, ‘The Reformed Church and Academic Education’. Introduction: Biblical Philology in the Sixteenth Century 15

During the period of biblical philology’s radicalization, Descartes did much to undermine the authority of the philosophical traditions of exegesis. The critique of Aristotelianism had not been invented by Descartes, of course. Ever since Petrarch, the ‘humanists’ of the Renaissance had criticized scholastic thinking, with its largely Aristotelian way of reasoning. Although Platonism was in vogue in sixteenth-century Italy, most university curricula ignored Plato. Men such as Pietro Pomponazzi, Girolamo Cardano, and Petrus Ramus were not alone in their anti-Aristotelian stance. In this sense, Descartes’s rejection of established authority was rooted in humanistic thinking. We need only think of the scepticism associated with thinkers like Erasmus and Agrippa of Nettesheim.71 But none of these thinkers wielded the intellectual vigour of Descartes’s radically new alternative to the entire Aristotelian system. Descartes’s radical alternative metaphysics created intellectual space for other radical interpretations by people who likewise did not take ancient authority for granted, but who valued an empiricist approach to history. Descartes’s characterization of humanism as being slavishly dependent on the authority of tradition is of course a caricature. Surely scholars in the era of ‘late humanism’ adopted a rather empirical approach to history, putting more trust in their own abilities than in just any ancient authority to reconstruct the course of history.72 If this constituted an epistemologically based opposition to Descartes’s philosophy, this empirical stance is one which people associated with Cartesianism would nonetheless be attracted to after Descartes. For the great paradox of Cartesianism in the second half of the seventeenth century is that it became largely a label for friend and foe to identify anti-Aristotelians, much as the label ‘Aristotelian’ chiefly denoted a philosopher opposed to Ramus or Descartes.73 In fact, many of these Cartesian anti-Aristotelians did agree (as Descartes did not) with Aristotle’s basically empirical epistemology of sense perception and comparative research, and many ‘Cartesians’ in fact stressed continuity with Aristotle, and not always for purely strategic reasons.74 But they were attracted to Descartes’s mechanistic views and, like him, disagreed with Aristotelian metaphysics and

71 Popkin, The History of Scepticism; Schmitt, Cicero Scepticus, 59–66; Rummel, The Confessionalization of Humanism, 50–67. 72 For the concept of ‘late humanism’ and its history, see Walter, Späthumanismus und Konfessionspolitik, 7–40, which emphasizes humanists’ engagement with society at large in the post-Tridentine world of learning. For the empiricism of philology, see Van Miert, ‘Joseph Scaliger, Claude Saumaise, Isaac Casaubon,’ 258–9; Van Miert, ‘Philology and Empiricism’. 73 Krop, ‘Tussen wetenschap en levensleer,’ 136. It is notable that pure Cartesians such as the Leiden and Amsterdam professor Johannes de Raei were heading nowhere, whereas other professors of physics, such as Burcher de Volder and Wolferd Senguerdius, regarded as somewhat Cartesian, did remain in touch with evolving Newtonianism. See Van Miert, Humanism in an Age of Science, 275 and 292–3. Verbeek, Descartes and the Dutch, 9, suggests that ‘in this period the meaning of the term Aristotelian is often no more specific than the contemporary meaning of the word scientific’. 74 Verbeek, Descartes and the Dutch, 8. 16 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic ipse dixit arguments of Aristotelians (itself a term attached to a wide variety of interpretations of ‘Aristotelianism’).75 Developments in science also helped to undermine the authority of traditional discourses of analysis, but the relation between religion and science was by no means always oppositional. As Eric Jorink has taught us, gaining knowledge of nature was often felt to be a religious experience.76 What was significant was the open-minded attitude towards the results to which scientific observations would lead.

ENGLAND, SWITZERLAND, FRANCE, AND GERMANY

Biblical philology was practised, often in similar ways, in areas that had different confessional outlooks. Conversely, confessions had no fixed borders. The Calvinism defining the world of learning in the Dutch Golden Age was particularly international, with centres in English, Swiss, French, and German territories. To better understand the frames of reference employed by the scholars treated in this study, it is useful to review the state of biblical philology in these countries. In England, it was precisely the people refusing to subscribe to the powers that be who turned to radical interpretations of the Bible. The ground had been prepared not so much by commentators as by translators, notably William Tyndale and Miles Coverdale in the first half of the sixteenth century.77 The King James Bible inspired an interest in questions of translation.78 In 1609, the English divine Hugh Broughton, the most accomplished Hebraist at the time, published a pamphlet on several problems that a translation should deal with. It was translated into Dutch and published in 1611, no doubt in the context of on-going attempts in Holland to draw up a new Dutch translation of the Bible. Broughton’s earlier philological work had met with considerable resistance in the 1590 and 1600s, primarily because of its conservative character.79 However, surprisingly little biblical philology was practised even after the publication of the King James Bible (1611), despite the fact that fifty-four translators had cooperated on the project (excluding Broughton, probably on account of his irascibility; he duly criticized the King James Version (KJV) after it was published). The translators had relied heavily on previous translations on Theodorus Beza’s critical work on the New Testament. Many hoped that Codex Alexandrinus, then the oldest known manuscript to contain the Septuagint,

75 Schmitt, Aristotle and the Renaissance; Martin, Subverting Aristotle; Verbeek, Descartes and the Dutch, 7, observes, as other scholars have done, that ‘there were many ways to be Aristotelian’ and that ‘[n]obody was prepared to accept Aristotle’s authority blindly’. 76 Jorink, Reading the Book of Nature. 77 Muller, ‘Biblical Interpretation’, 29. 78 Hall, ‘Biblical Scholarship’, 92–3. 79 Lloyd Jones, ‘Broughton’. Introduction: Biblical Philology in the Sixteenth Century 17 and kept in London since 1627, would be edited. Notwithstanding the presence of able scholars—the royal librarian Patrick Young, the universally learned John Selden (styled ‘our Scaliger’ by his countrymen),80 and the Dutch immi- grant Francis Junius F.F.—the Alexandrinian manuscript was not printed, although variant readings found their way to Brian Walton’s London Polyglot of 1657. Some of these variants had been published by Heinsius, Grotius, and Saumaise previously, as we will see in chapters 4, 5, and 6. In the meantime, James Ussher was exceptional in his collating of manuscripts of the Bible,81 while John Selden learnt much from Scaliger’s philological methods in the pursuit of his own antiquarian study of the bible.82 Interpretations of the Bible played a role in the dialectics of the English Revolution, and the authority to interpret the Bible was increasingly claimed by individuals among various Nonconformist sects: Baptists, Fifth Monarchists, Quakers, Ranters, and Diggers. If Protestantism ultimately aimed at a more personal relationship between God and the individual through the direct reading of God’s Word, then it would have to be allowed that the individual Protestant could act for himself as an interpreter of the biblical text.83 But individuals read and reread the biblical text in light of the political crises that constituted the Civil War. The Ranters even rejected the idea that there was any interpretive authority, and seemed ‘to anticipate a postmodern textuality’.84 The lack of annotations in the KJV, in particular in comparison with the continuous popularity of the English Geneva Bible, was felt increasingly as a short- coming for personal study of the Bible. In 1645 appeared an edition of the KJV with the ‘Westminster’ Annotations upon all the Books of the Old and New Testaments. The enormous success of this edition (and its expansions in 1651 and 1657–1658) ‘mark something of a seismic shift within popular religion, from preference for oral to printed forms of speech, from corporate to personal worship’.85 Critique of the failure of the KJV to have adequately returned to the Hebrew sources had led parliament to set up a plan to revise the Authorized Version, but these came to naught on account of the political turmoil of the 1650s.86 The London Polyglot and its counterpart, the nine-volume Critici sacri edited by John Pearson, Anthony Scattergood, and Francis Gouldman in 1660, put the literal and grammatical sense of the Bible firmly on the agenda.87 After the Civil War, it was precisely a radical biblical critic such as Isaac Vossius who

80 Camden called Selden ‘our Scaliger’: see Toomer, John Selden, vol. 2, 822. Toomer’s study of Selden’s oeuvre gives evidence of the immense influence of Scaliger on Selden. 81 Mandelbrote, ‘The Authority of the Word’, 148. 82 Toomer, John Selden, vol. 1, 62–8. 83 Thomas Hobbes identified personal reading in general (not just of the biblical text) to have been at the root of the Civil War. See Sharpe and Zwicker, ‘Introduction’, 20. 84 Sharpe and Zwicker, ‘Introduction’, 21. 85 Pederson, Unity in Diversity, 93–6 (quotation on 96). 86 Mandelbrote, ‘The Authority of the Word’, 145. 87 Hall, ‘Biblical Scholarship’, 93; Muller, ‘Biblical Interpretation’, 33; De Jonge, De bestudering, 55. 18 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic defended the authority of the Septuagint.88 Yet the critical study of the text of the Bible was no free enterprise. Vossius’s defence of the authority of the Septuagint met with harsh criticism, and not until the 1750s would the Samaritan Pentateuch in England be seriously considered as an important source for textual criticism of the Old Testament, more than a hundred years after its publication in the Parisian Polyglot (1645); only then was it true that ‘biblical criticism can be said to have become almost respectable in England’.89 Much philological energy was invested not in the Bible, but in the Church Fathers. Here, ‘[p]hilology, rather than being an independent discipline, became a set of tools for theologians: to declare a text apocryphal, interpolated, or corrupted was one of the standard ways to neutralise it’.90 When Jean Daillé used such philological arguments to play down the authority of the Church Fathers, he was well aware that Catholic authorities used precisely the same type of arguments to protest against the Protestant sola Scriptura. The difference was that patristic writings were much more liable to textual corruption than the books of Scripture, which had always been preserved in the Church with the utmost care, had been translated into every language, and were recognized as sacred by all the rival Christian Churches.91 In instances like these, then, a hermeneutic a priori set limits to the force allot- ted to biblical philology. In the Swiss cities of Basel, Zurich, and Geneva, Theodorus Beza came to dominate the field of biblical philology in the final quarter of the sixteenth century, and his influence lasted a long time.92 As mentioned, the Elzevir edition of what came to be known as the Textus Receptus of the New Testament was largely indebted to Beza’s edition. Four years before the first Elzevir edition rolled from the Leiden press, Beza’s text had been reprinted in Geneva, with notes by Joseph Scaliger, by then dead for a decade.93 The revisers of the States’ Translation relied on the Stephanus edition with Beza’s notes and translation, that is, Beza’s fourth, of 1588/1589.94 It was Heinsius who would deal a serious blow to Beza’s Latin translation of the Greek New Testament—or so he might have imagined it. Biblical philology in France, meanwhile, took off seriously only in the first half of the seventeenth century. In 1628, the orientalist Jean Morin produced an edition of the Septuagint, which Peter N. Miller has characterized as ‘an early example of the seventeenth-century phenomenon that can be called the anti- quarianisation of biblical scholarship, in which the archaeological and historical

88 Katz, ‘Isaac Vossius and the English Biblical Critics’; Mandelbrote, ‘Isaac Vossius and the Septuagint’. 89 Katz, ‘Isaac Vossius and the English Biblical Critics,’ 171 and 175. 90 Quantin, The Church of England, 18. 91 Quantin, The Church of England, 237. 92 Krans, Beyond What Is Written, 4. 93 Novum Jesu Christi Testamentum, cum notis Josephi Scaligeri. 94 See above, n. 44. Introduction: Biblical Philology in the Sixteenth Century 19 approach of the antiquary was used to broaden the philological horizon of purely textual study of the Bible’.95 Yet in the background was political antagonism with Rome over the independence of the French provincial synods.96 In Paris was printed a revision of the Antwerp Polyglot, to which were added Syriac and Arabic materials, in ten volumes (1629–1645), largely the work of Morin and his fellow orientalist Gabriel Sionita.97 Again, a variety of versions reinforced the impression of the pluriformity of God’s Word.98 Morin put forward his conviction that the church should not shun the placing of variant readings of the sacred text side by side, for the apostles themselves had shown considerable flexibility in accommodating the traditions of the Jews and the opinions of pagan poets. In both attitudes, apparently, Morin recognized a flexibility towards tradition which he thought exemplary. In the end, however, the decisions regarding authoritative readings would have to be left to the Catholic Church; and this ‘anxiety about inquiry ought to be seen as the beginning of the loss of confidence that would lead to the ossification of Counter-Reformation scholarship and transform these monuments of sacred history into fodder for erudite atheists’.99 Indeed, the Paris Polyglot in the end provided only texts, no variants. In the case of the Paris Polyglot, the initiative had been not only theological and philological, but economic and political as well: it stimulated the study of Arabic, which was of immediate concern for French business in the Levant.100 For the initiator of the project, however, the undertaking ruined him financial- ly.101 The subjection of philology to Gallican politics and economics was, of course, lost on an alternative French biblical philology, as exercised in the Huguenot centres of Caen, La Rochelle (before its fall in 1628), and notably the powerhouses of Sedan and Saumur, which acted as theological (but not necessarily philological) points of reference for the Dutch Reformed Church, something which became quite clear during the famous Saumurian controversy.102 A Protestant counterpart of Jean Morin was Louis Cappel, whose famous work on Hebrew vocalization, the Arcanum punctationis revelatum of 1624, followed (after a delay of almost a hundred years) the Hebraist Elijah Levita in arguing that the vowel points in the Hebrew Masoretic text were added in the fifth century ad, confirming Scaliger’s impression that the vowel points were a late human intervention.103 Cappel’s Critica sacra—finished around 1634 and

95 Miller, ‘Making the Paris Polyglot Bible’, 73. Morin, Vetus Testamentum. 96 Miller, ‘Making the Paris Polyglot Bible’, 72–3. 97 See Schenker, ‘The Polyglot Bibles’, 780. For a short introduction to Morin’s biblical philology, see Gibert, ‘The Catholic Counterpart,’ 767–72. 98 Miller, ‘Making the Paris Polyglot Bible’, 60. 99 Miller, ‘Making the Paris Polyglot Bible’, 78–9 (quotation on 79). 100 Miller, ‘Making the Paris Polyglot Bible’, 67–9. 101 Schenker, ‘The Polyglot Bibles’, 779. 102 Laplanche, L’é c r i t u r e ; Stam, The Controversy. 103 Grafton,Joseph Scaliger, vol. 2, 734–7. 20 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic circulated to some extent in 1639 but published only in 1650—gave evidence of his textual criticism, but his notes on the Old Testament were published posthumously only in 1689.104 By then, one of his compatriots (but not co-religionists) had joined him on the stage of historical and linguistic analysis of the biblical text: the Oratorian Richard Simon, whose Histoire critique du Vieux Testament (1678), Histoire critique du texte du Nouveau Testament (1689), and other philological works, as said above, ‘mark a watershed in the critical reading of Scripture’ and bring us well beyond the scope of the present book.105 But one should point out that Simon was expelled from the Oratorian Order in 1679 and his works put on the Index in 1682.106 In German territories, meanwhile, Matthias Flacius Illyricus’s Clavis scripturae sacrae of 1567 emphasized the literal and historical sense of the text as a basis for the other three levels of the quadriga; its author also wrote a commentary on the New Testament in the form of a gloss (1570).107 Two polyglots saw the light of day. The Hamburg Polyglot was edited by David Wolder in six volumes in 1596. It replaced the Vulgate with Beza’s Latin translation and included Luther’s German translation of the Old and New Testaments. It also replaced the Antwerp Polyglot’s Hebrew version with the edition of Elias Hutter, himself responsible for the Nürnberg Polyglot in five volumes (1599–1602). This polyglot even included a Slavic translation of part of the Old Testament. Hutter’s focus on Hebrew was brought to a new level of sophistication by the elder Johannes Buxtorf (1564–1629), who published a series of studies and aids to study on biblical Hebrew and Aramaic, before presenting the world with his four-volume Biblia Hebraica cum paraphrasi Chaldaica et commentariis rabbinorum (1618–1619), a book which shaped the philology of no less than Spinoza himself.108 The younger Johannes Buxtorf continued the work of his father, whose theories on the Hebrew vocalizations he defended against Louis Cappel, in published form in 1648— around the time that biblical philology, as I argue in this book, gained a public profile in the Dutch Republic, but perhaps also in England, as we noted above, and also in France and Germany, precisely through controversies such as these within the international arena of the Republic of Letters.109

104 Muller, ‘Biblical Interpretation’, 34; Laplanche, L’é c r i t u r e , 181–210. 105 Muller, ‘Biblical Interpretation’, 35. 106 Mandelbrote, ‘Isaac Vossius and the Septuagint’, 99. 107 Muller, ‘Biblical Interpretation’, 33. See also the references in Levitin, ‘From Sacred History to the History of Religion’, 1144, n. 118. 108 See, most recently, Grafton, ‘Spinoza’s Tractatus Theologico-Politicus’; see also Spinoza, Oeuvres III, 14 (Introduction) and, for example, in the annotations, 748 (n. 54). For the elder Buxtorf’s influence on other scholars, notably Isaac Casaubon, see Grafton and Weinberg,‘I Have Always Loved the Holy Tongue,’ 129–52. On Buxtorf himself, see Burnett, From Christian Hebraism to Jewish Studies. 109 See Touber, Spinoza and Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic, chapter 1, section 1.2, ‘Background to Spinoza’s Biblical Criticism’, ‘Reformed Criticism’. Introduction: Biblical Philology in the Sixteenth Century 21

The philological reach of the authoritative Reformed theologian Johannes Piscator (1546–1625) remains to be assessed, but his German translation of the Bible had a profound influence on the translators of the Dutch Authorized Version, as chapter 3 will show.110 There is, in short, a European scope possible for the questions raised in this book. At least in Western Europe, biblical philology rose to prominence in the first half of the seventeenth century. This is also the reason why the emancipation of biblical philology portrayed in this book is not always linked to the social and political circumstances characteristic of the Dutch Republic; the rise of biblical philology was part of a broader, European development. Still, the case of the Dutch Republic is particularly salient: the confessionalization of a society which enjoyed considerable confessional freedom caused continuous conflicts, often highly publicized in a society known for its culture of discussions.

CENTRAL QUESTION AND SUB-QUESTIONS

Grotius had refuted La Peyrère’s outrageous theories even before they were published. These two biblical critics shared little in the way of substance, but both adopted methods that informed Spinoza. Biblical philology had finally met radical philosophy, and theology was caught between them. Both Grotius and La Peyrère drew on Scaliger for their methods in biblical philology. Scaliger never theorized or laid out his methods explicitly, but his shadow loomed large over the biblical philologists in the Dutch Republic, as it did in England. How did his way of conducting textual criticism, linguistic analysis, and historical contextualization shape half a century of biblical philology in the Dutch Republic, before Spinoza made an appearance on the stage? How, in other words, did the strong philological tradition of Leiden play out in the hands of different scholars who fostered conflicting agendas? This is the central question of the present book. Starting with Scaliger, who dared publish his proposal for a period of ‘proleptic time’ preceding the creation of the earth (which he set at 3949 bc) but was reluctant to voice in public his textual criticism of the New Testament, we will trace how biblical philology gained momentum, spilled over from the arts’ faculties into the faculties of theology, and transformed biblical exegesis. How did this process come about? When and why could theology at some point no longer exercise control over philology? How did biblical philology conquer the public sphere? What precisely was this ‘public sphere’ in relation to more secluded ‘spheres’? These are the questions that will occupy us in the chapters to follow.

110 Piscator’s scholarship is usually part of his larger theological arguments in his numerous biblical commentaries. 1

Joseph Scaliger: The Power of Philology (1590–1609)

Indeed, due to the testimonies of the ancient fathers it is a known fact that Holy Scripture was often corrupted by incompetent scribes and correct- ors, by Jews and other heretics. —Johannes Woverius, 16031

1.1. SCALIGER, PHILOLOGIST

At some point before he moved to Leiden in 1593, Scaliger confided to his lifelong friend François Vertunien: ‘Discord in religion hinges on nothing other than on the ignorance of grammar.’2 And we recall from the epigraph to this book’s preface, one of Scaliger’s famous quotations from the Scaligerana, his reluctance to publish his annotations on the New Testament. Scaliger regarded philology as central to the pursuit of all knowledge, including knowledge of the Bible. But whereas he felt confident to publish on biblical chronology, he was reluctant to publish his critical annotations on the Bible. Much of his biblical philology has survived, scattered in the margins of the books he owned, and in his Scaligerana, his letters, and even his printed works.3 These four types of sources show different grades of openness: the more confi- dential the medium, the more frankly Scaliger discussed the biblical text. This chapter shows that in the years around 1600, biblical philology, if it were conducted in the same acute way that Scaliger approached pagan authors, was

1 De polymathia tractatio, caput XIIX, 148: ‘Sane sacram scripturam ab imperitis librariis et emendatoribus, a Iudaeis, aliisque hereticis saepe corruptam veterum patrum testimoniis notum.’ 2 Prima Scaligerana, 96, s.v. ‘Grammatica’: ‘Non aliunde dissidia in Religione pendent, quam ab ignoratione Grammaticae.’ 3 Scaliger’s biographer Jacob Bernays already thought in 1855 that it would be rewarding to collect all this material. In 1975, Henk Jan de Jonge discussed a fraction of this material, a portion that he had himself selected, claiming that the ‘complete corpus would require a volume of several hundred pages’. See De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 82. Joseph Scaliger: The Power of Philology (1590–1609) 23 bound to cause problems for the philologist if it moved beyond the private space of the scholar’s house. There was room for discussion, but this was limited to the relatively easily controlled seclusion of the oral setting of private teaching and conversation among members of the academic community. Scaliger claimed that the critic ‘could do much to heal the wounds of a text even if he had not been trained in the technical skills it treated’.4 On good grounds, Scaliger is regarded as one of the most important ‘philologists’ or scholars of the early modern period. The landmark intellectual biography by Anthony Grafton has teased out the twists and turns of Scaliger’s intellectual development, showing not only how he drew upon existing themes and methods, but also how he amalgamated those methods and managed to break new ground.5 Scaliger cut his philological teeth on pagan authors, and over the course of nearly two decades his interests shifted from Archaic Latin to historical astronomy. Scaliger’s philology was two-sided. On the one hand, he made annotations, explaining the linguistic backgrounds, the political and historical contexts, or the antiquarian histories of the words in the texts. On the other hand, he made suggestions to change the text, either by referring to alternative readings in manuscripts (ope manuscripti or ope codicis) or by presenting conjectural emendations (ex ingenio). It has been observed that ‘Scaliger was far ahead of his time. No great advance was made towards a theory of recension until the eighteenth century.’6 In his editions of the didactic poem on astronomy by the Roman poet Manilius and of a treatise on head wounds by the Greek physician Hippocrates, a tension became clear. This is the antagonism between, on the one hand, the philologist who has experience with texts (whatever their topic, e.g. astronomical as in the case of Manilius or medical as with Hippocrates) and, on the other hand, the professional scholar who specialized in the (astronomical or medical) subject of a particular text. In the case of Manilius’s poem (Paris 1579; Leiden 1599–1600), Scaliger’s broad knowledge of texts other than astronomical writings allowed him to slip into his commentary a brilliant conjectural emendation on a verse from Paul’s Epistle to the Philippians (2:30).7 He suggested a reading that was confirmed by manuscripts long after his death.8 In the case of Hippocrates, Scaliger undertook an edition of a treatise on head wounds (Paris 1578) in cooperation with his friend the physician François Vertunien. This work provoked the wrath of the medical faculty of the University of Paris. ‘That a philologist who was far removed from the medical guild would plunge his philological knife into Hippocrates seemed to the medical Faculty in Paris to be

4 Grafton,Joseph Scaliger, vol. 1, 181. 5 Grafton,Joseph Scaliger, vols 1 and 2. 6 Reynolds and Wilson, Scribes and Scholars, 210. 7 Manilius, Astronomicon, ed. Scaliger, 317 (comment to book 4, verse 184). 8 De Jonge, ‘Eine Konjektur Joseph Scaligers’. 24 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic an infringement of their prerogative’, as Scaliger’s biographer Jacob Bernays put it.9 There was a clear reason for the Sorbonne’s irritation: in the edition, Scaliger wiped the floor with medical men who had failed to notice the corruptions in the text. ‘From this’, Scaliger maintained, ‘the careful reader may gather how vain it is for those who have no experience in this study of criticism to promise something from their dealings with literary works.’10 These tensions between the philologist and the astronomer, or between the philologist and the medical doctor, suggest by analogy a potentially problematic relationship between the biblical philologist and the systematic theologian.11 This tension was usually solved by making philology subject to theology. In fact, in most controversies, philology was a powerful instrument in the hands of theologians to shore up religious dogma. Admitting that philology could also run counter to theological interests was therefore an inconvenient, if not a dangerous business. His work on Manilius led Scaliger to sort out questions of historical chronology and from there to his two opera magna: De emendatione temporum (Paris, 1583, and Leiden, 1598) and the Thesaurus temporum (Leiden, 1606). In his private conversations, Scaliger admitted frankly that it was impossible to iron out the inconsistencies in biblical chronology: ‘As to the number of years the Israelites spent in Egypt’, he confessed to his students over dinner, it is said in one passage that they were there for 450 years. It appears from the history that they were there for only three generations, which makes 210 years: half of it. That has been the reason why the ancients started to count since the promise made to Abraham. One cannot solve this in any way.12 But the biblical account was inconsistent not only within itself, but also in relation to pagan sources, to which Scaliger assigned much authority.13 Scaliger here reached the point where he thought he could not proceed further: ‘one cannot solve this in any way’ means that he thought internal biblical evidence alone offered too little help. He therefore took into account extra-biblical evidence, such as calendars from non-Jewish and non-Christian traditions. In dealing with chronology, and in particular with Eusebius, Scaliger delved into a very complex history of the transmission of texts in different languages, the interdependence of which he was forced to sort out. The task occupied him for many years.14

9 Bernays, Joseph Justus Scaliger, 239–40. 10 Cited after Grafton, Joseph Scaliger, vol. 1, 317, n. 6. 11 Levitin, ‘From Sacred History to the History of Religion’, 1151. 12 Secunda Scaligerana, 195, s.v. ‘Ans’: ‘Ans de la demeure des Israelites en Aegypte. Il est dit en un passage qu’ils y furent 450 ans. Il apert par l’histoire qu’ils n’y ont esté que 3 generations, qui font 210 ans, la moitié. Cela a este cause que les Anciens ont commencé à compter depuis la promesse faite à Abraham. Cela ne se peut aucunement soudre.’ 13 See, for example, his evaluation of Berosus, in Secunda Scaligerana, 229–30, s.v. ‘Berosus’. 14 Grafton,Joseph Scaliger, vol. 2, notably 514–743. Joseph Scaliger: The Power of Philology (1590–1609) 25

As one of the most highly skilled textual critics of the Republic of Letters, it would have been impossible for Scaliger to read the Bible while disregarding his superbly developed critical instincts. He was naturally interested in both the historical contexts in which the texts had been produced, and the constitution of the biblical text itself. And he had a sharp eye for the relations among ancient translations of the Bible. He possessed Bibles in numerous languages, both in manuscript and in print.15 He sought out special editions and translations, and kept track of the whereabouts of the interesting manuscripts that he did not own. Primarily he sought to determine which early translation presented the most reliable text.16 He was, unsurprisingly, dismissive of the Vulgate. The oldest witness to the text is Ambrose, who cites verses from Scripture that are different from what appears in the Vulgate. Augustine relied on a bad Latin translation of the Septuagint. Such quotations from the Church Fathers, even if they are often mistaken, were to be preferred above the Vulgate,17 which had been criticized as far back as Augustine (but for the wrong reasons, for he stuck to the Septuagint only because he did not know Hebrew) and had been corrupted over time by monks. For his translation of the New Testament, Jerome worked from existing Latin translations, which he corrected. There were many such translations in circulation within the early Christian communities: everyone just translated for himself. Pope Sixtus V (‘the son of a swineherd’18) should have collated the old manuscripts of the Vulgate, mentioning the variant readings, in his post-Tridentine edition of 1590 (re-edited in 1592 as the standard ‘Clementine’ Vulgate). ‘The Vulgate as purged by Gregory XIII is the best’,19 Scaliger proclaims, no doubt meaning the Antwerp Polyglot, approved by Gregory in 1572. At some point, Scaliger seems to have thought of publishing himself a polyglot edition of the book of Psalms.20 He never came round to it, but evidence shows that Scaliger actively engaged with the biblical text. He translated a number of psalms from Latin into Greek.21 His printed works, in particular his De emendatione temporum and the Thesaurus temporum, testify that he studied

15 For the Bibles Scaliger owned, see the Catalogus librorum bibliothecae illius viri Scaligeri, 3, 5, 7, 38, 42, 43, 44, 50, and appendix: sigs A1r, A2r, B[3]r. See also Scaliger to C. Dupy, 12 February 1577, in Scaliger, Correspondence, vol. 1, 201, n. 1, Scaliger to Elmenhorst, 5 December 1602, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 4, 489, and Woverius’s letters to Scaliger, in Scaliger, the Correspondence, vol. 5, 163–4, 220–1, 279–80, and 328–31; Heinsius, Catalogus, 80; Secunda Scaligerana, 234–6, s.v. ‘[in] Bibliis’, 591–2, s.v. ‘Thargum’; Leiden University Library, ms. Scal. 24B; Scal. 37, fols 22r–24v. Molhuysen, Codices Scaligerani¸ 53–5, 85–7, and 87–9. 16 See his long note on the Bible in Secunda Scaligerana, 234–6, s.v. ‘[in] Bibliis’. 17 Compare Secunda Scaligerana, 589, s.v. ‘Le Testament’. 18 Secunda Scaligerana, 574, s.v. ‘Sixte V’: ‘Sixte V. étoit fils d’un porcher’. 19 Secunda Scaligerana, 610–12, s.v. ‘Version de la Bible’; (612:) ‘Editio vulgata a Greg. XIII purgata est optima’. 20 Casaubon to Diodati, 11 June 1608 (Casaubon, Epistolae, 314). 21 In Leiden UB, ms. Scal. 62, fols 25r–47r. 26 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic the biblical text thoroughly. Much of Scaliger’s biblical scholarship, then, was printed during his lifetime, and with his authorization. Nevertheless, most of Scaliger’s biblical philology consisted of remarks uttered in (semi-)private circumstances: it was communicated by means of letters to friends and colleagues, or spoken in his home in the company of students or confidants, at the dinner table. Most of his philology assumes the form of annotations in the margins of his books and in his private papers. The history of Scaliger’s epistolary legacy and of his table talk, the Scaligerana, is important, for he himself had been careful to keep many of his textual-critical remarks out of the public sphere. These sources are where we encounter most of Scaliger’s engagement with the text of the New Testament.

1.2. SCALIGER’S BIBLICAL PHILOLOGICAL ANNOTATIONS AS PRINTED POSTHUMOUSLY IN HIS LETTERS

It did cross Scaliger’s mind to publish a selection of his letters, but he was never seriously interested in such a project.22 Several other works of Scaliger were published posthumously, including some of his observations on the New Testament (Geneva 1619).23 This collection was immediately reprinted, or pirated, in Cologne. In the short introduction to the edition, the anonymous editor writes that the notes had fallen ‘by accident’ into his hands.24 The publication of these Genevensia, as De Jonge baptized them in a seminal article of 1975, shows how intricately letters and biblical philology were related. De Jonge demonstrated that the Genevensia consist of two sets of notes, the second of which had been condensed from a manuscript dating from before 1619 and which survives in the Bibliothèque nationale in Paris.25 The manuscript, in turn, contains extracts from some of Scaliger’s letters, as De Jonge pointed out and the modern critical edition of Scaliger’s correspondence confirmed.26 Some of these notes survive in many

22 Scaliger to Casaubon, 8 March 1607, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 7, 80, ll. 11–12); Secunda Scaligerana, 307–8. For the early publishing history of Scaliger’s correspondence, see Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 1, xxxii–xlvi. 23 It is unknown who instigated the edition; see De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 80. 24 I have consulted: Novum Iesu Christi D.N. Testamentum, cum notis Iosephi Scaligeri in locos aliquot difficiliores, Cologne, apud Petrum de la Roviere, 1619 (hereafter: Genevensia), sig. ¶r (p. 1): ‘notas, quae . . . nobis forte in manus incidissent’. 25 Bibliothèque nationale de France, ms lat. 17.283, fols 4r–11r. See De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 79. 26 De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 79–80; Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 123–5 (Scaliger to Gilbert Seguin, 19 October [1590]–1592]), 179–85 (Scaliger to François Vertunien, 9 June [1591?]), 198–204 (Scaliger to Jacques-Auguste de Thou, 29 July 1591); see also 580 (Scaliger to De Thou, 13 December 1595 (a), n. 7). Joseph Scaliger: The Power of Philology (1590–1609) 27 more manuscript copies. Scaliger’s note on 1 Corinthians 3:15, for example, first penned in a letter to Vertunien, is recorded in at least eight manuscripts.27 These unpublished letters were excerpted, presumably by one of the Dupuy brothers, for their biblical scholarship and were eventually made public posthumously. Much of Scaliger’s biblical scholarship, then, was conducted via more or less private correspondence and became available only after his death. Scaliger’s notes deal with linguistic matters and historical contexts. Frequent use is made of Josephus to explain the historical or ritual circumstances of events described in the Gospels, the Acts, and the Pauline letters. In 1 Corinthians 15:32 Scaliger suggests the reading κατ΄ ἀνθρώπων instead of κατ΄ ἄνθρωπον.28 At Hebrews 11:4 Scaliger criticizes the Vulgate rendering ‘loquitur’ (he speaks) of the Greek λαλεῖται in the phrase ‘he being dead yet speaketh’. The Greek verb should be translated ‘is on everybody’s tongue’.29 At Hebrews 5:21, Scaliger notices that the ‘author’ (Scaliger contested the Pauline authorship of the Epistle to the Hebrews) relied on the Septuagint’s incorrect translation of a Hebrew word.30 In Mark 9:49 Scaliger suggests an emendation, on the basis of a parallel in Leviticus 2:13: 49 For every one shall be salted with fire, and every sacrifice shall be salted with salt. 49 πᾶς γὰρ πυρὶ ἁλισθήσεται καὶ πᾶσα θυσία ἀλὶ ἁλισθήσεται, Instead of πᾶς γὰρ πυρὶ ἁλισθήσεται, Scaliger argues that the text ought to read πᾶσα πυρία ἁλισθήσεται (‘every fire shall be salted’). Scaliger compares Mark with Matthew and Luke. Later in the century, Grotius, Louis Cappel, and Ludovicus de Dieu all rejected Scaliger’s bold conjecture.31 The second half of the Genevensia consists of two essays. The first treats the death of Peter, which is discussed in relation to Roman methods of crucifixion.32 Scaliger here rejects the idea that Peter ever set foot in Rome.33 A second essay concerns the interpretation of the first half of 1 Corinthians 15:29 (‘Else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead’). After a long detour listing errors in ritual that Paul condemned (in casu polygamy), Scaliger comes to his main argument—that Paul’s ‘for the dead’ refers not to all the people in the world, but

27 See the discussion in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 177–9. 28 De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 83. 29 Genevensia, 2: ‘Heb. XI.4 λαλεῖται praedicatur, in ore omnium est. Nam vetus translatio inepte loquitur.’ 30 Genevensia, 2.: ‘v. 21 προσεκύνησεν ἐπὶ τὸ ἄκρον τοῦ ῥάβδου. Sequutus est author huius epistolae LXX. interpretum editionem, vertendum erat ἐπὶ τὸ ἄκρον τοῦ κραββάτου, in capite grabbati. ’.ῥαβδος הטמ ,lectus ּהטמ Grabbatum et virga Hebraice iisdem literis, sed diversis apicibus vocatur 31 De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 106, n. 185. For Grotius, see chapter 5, section 5.3, ‘Contents of the Annotationes’, ‘Textual Criticism’, n. 81. 32 I found nothing to suggest that Lipsius’s De cruce is the subtext to this discussion. 33 Genevensia, 4–7. 28 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic only to the congregation in Corinth. For Paul uses the Greek article τῶν, which makes ‘the dead’ specific.34 Scaliger here limits the meaning of Paul’s words as referring strictly to a particular time and place on the basis of a purely linguistic argument. In 1619 there appeared another text by Scaliger: his so-called De arte critica diatriba. Scaliger had never thought of this essay as an independent treatise. The text first appeared in a letter he had written as early as 1574.35 Part of it appeared later in an undated letter to Petrus Scriverius.36 Again, a letter was posthumously reprocessed and published as a separate treatise. Exactly the same procedure was followed in the case of a lengthy letter that Scaliger addressed to Charles de Harlay, Lord of Dolot, brother to Achille de Harlay, premier président of the Parlement of Paris (to whom Scaliger dedicated the first and second editions of De emendatione temporum). This time it was Isaac Casaubon who printed this epistolary treatise posthumously.37 Casaubon had seen the treatise five years after it had been written, as evident from his letter to Scaliger of March 1604.38 In 1607 Casaubon had not forgotten about it: he professed that he would like to see it printed.39 There is no sign that Scaliger attempted to exercise control over this publication. Scaliger had written his letter after Dolot had solicited his views in 1599 on the Jewish system of tithing.40 What precisely motivated Dolot’s question is not explicit. Perhaps it was prompted by the crisis in French agricultural production due to the final struggles at the end of the century between Henri IV and the Ligueurs.41 This crisis had a profound effect on the payment of tithes.42 In parallel to what was then happening in England, it appears that ‘there was at that time [i.e., the early seventeenth century] an increasing interest in early legal and constitutional authorities’.43 There, Robert Cotton assembled a large library of wills, cartularies, and other documents John Selden used for his own works, not least his work on tithes. It is no coincidence that Selden, as Scaliger and as sixteenth-century French humanist jurists had done in their studies of Roman law, adopted a historically contextualizing, antiquarian, and

34 Genevensia, 8. 35 Scaliger to François Vertunien, 25 December [1574], in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 1, 94–8; and see the discussion there about the history of the text. 36 Scaliger to Scriverius, [1601–1603], in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 3, 559–62. 37 Diatriba de decimis appeared in Scaliger’s Opuscula of 1610. Scaliger’s work appears to have been sent with a letter which is now lost, but which ought to have been dated 17 June 1599. See Dolot to Scaliger, 28 July 1599, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 3, 301, ll. 3–4. 38 Casaubon to Scaliger, 27 March 1604, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 5, 271, ll 43–4. 39 Casaubon to Scaliger, 25 July 1607, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 7, 222, ll. 162–4. 40 Dolot to Scaliger, 24 April 1599, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 3, 267–9. 41 See the tables in Garnier, ‘Éléments de conjuncture’, 555, 558, and 564; and Constant, ‘L’évolution’, 530. 42 Le Roy Ladurie with Goy, ‘Première esquisse’, 354. See also the diagrams in the Annexes 3 and 6 on 377 and 378. 43 Loncar, ‘Selden’s History of Tithes’, 218. Joseph Scaliger: The Power of Philology (1590–1609) 29 philological approach, not least in his discussion of the tithing in the Old Testament.44 Dolot’s questions concerning tithing were limited to the Old Testament. He wondered how Levites could be paid tithes every year, yet still be called poor. Some scholars, Dolot had heard, said the tithes were paid to them only once every three years.45 Scaliger opens his reflections on tithing with the remark that those who have provided commentary on the books of Moses, either privately or in print, have only made matters more confused by failing to acknowledge that Moses instituted more than one practice and by ascribing to him customs he did not introduce.46 Scaliger had access, then, to unpublished commentaries on the Pentateuch. With typical confidence, he then sets out to examine the reasons for the ‘hallu- cinations’ of these commentators. Consulting the Septuagint and the Targum Onkelos (62–63), he examined the technical Hebrew words for the different types of harvest subject to tithing (61–62), and also the Hebrew word for ‘offering’. Scaliger listed and analysed different types of tithes and practices of bringing in offerings, depending on the distance from Jerusalem (63–65). He made a table of the ways that two basic taxations were calculated, deducted, and sub- distributed. The table demonstrates how complicated the practice was (67). Drawing heavily on the book of Tobit, Scaliger reconstructs (as he had in his De emendatione temporum) the number of Levite families to whom the tithes befell (67–68). Scaliger’s essay is antiquarian, as when he argues that the Levites did not permanently stay in Jerusalem, and is often linguistic in its analyses, as in his comparison of the Greek book of Tobit with its Hebrew paraphrase.

1.3. SCALIGER’S BIBLICAL PHILOLOGY IN HIS UNPUBLISHED LETTERS TO DE THOU AND TO SEGUIN

In the case of the tithes, Scaliger seems to have had no reservations towards Casaubon’s wish to publish his exposition. From another case, we know that Scaliger was careful: he asked that his correspondent, Jacques-Auguste de Thou, not speak with anybody about the contents of a letter that concerned the book of Judith. This relatively early letter (27 April 1591) was written when Scaliger was in Preuilly, two years before he accepted the invitation to come to Leiden. Preuilly was a relatively safe place: the small town had a Protestant

44 Selden’s Historie of Tithes was not prompted by Scaliger’s little dissertation, although he naturally referred to (and criticized) it in the second chapter of his treatise; see Toomer, John Selden, vol. 1, 267. On the sixteenth-century French humanist legal tradition, see Donald Kelley’s classic study, Foundations of Modern Historical Scholarship. 45 Dolot to Scaliger, 24 April 1599, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 3, 268–9, ll. 22–30. 46 Scaliger, Diatriba de decimis in lege Dei, 61. 30 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic community and Scaliger himself lived in a fortified stronghold on the hill, which dominated the town and its surroundings. Scaliger’s patron, Chasteigner, was a Catholic, who had fought the Huguenots for three decades. The confessional differences between the two men never seem to have jeopardized their relationship, but throughout 1590–1592, the political and religious situation in France was uncertain: since the murder of Henri III in 1589, the sole heir to the crown was Henri of Navarre, leader of the Protestant cause, and Chasteigner suddenly found himself serving a former enemy. Like other Catholics, Chasteigner might have foreseen that Navarre would eventually convert to Catholicism, for it was inconceivable for the French throne to be occupied by a Protestant. On 25 July 1593, the day that Scaliger wrote his last letter from France, Henri did indeed convert. It is understandable that Scaliger, after three decades of bloody religious turmoil, was careful in the volatile years leading up to Henri’s conversion. He made sure not to criticize Catholic authorities, but still felt it necessary to ask De Thou not to circulate his letter. The letter itself argues that the book of Judith, accepted as canonical by Catholics, is apocryphal.47 The book starts with the story of the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar, who first made Arpachshad (king of the Medes) his subject, then planned to conquer the western part of the Middle East, relying on his military officer Holofernes. The entire coastal region, Israel included, trem- bled at the prospect. Judith 4:6 relates how Joakim, the high priest in Jerusalem, called for resistance. The town of Bethulia was then besieged by Nebuchadnezzar’s army and the situation grew desperate. In chapter 8, Judith, who lived in Bethulia, enters the stage. The subsequent story is well known: the young widow cut off Holofernes’s head, and returned in triumph to her native city. Scaliger employs several types of argument against the historicity of the story. These pertain to chronology, geography, textual transmission, and historical tradition. First of all, Joakim lived in the time of Xerxes and Artaxerxes, not of Arpachshad in Medes or Nebuchadnezzar in Assyria. ‘It is as reckless to contrive this [story], as it is stupid to believe it.’48 Second, there is a chronological argument: the old royal city of Ecbatana of the Medes (mentioned in Judith 1:1–4 as having been fortified by Arpachshad) was restored by Seleucus of Macedonia, and never possessed such large walls and towers as the author of Judith wants his readers to believe. 49 Then there are geographical problems with the book of Judith. Holofernes (coming from Nineveh in the east) is said to have crossed the Euphrates and arrived in Mesopotamia, and from there he crossed to Cilicia (Judith 2:23–25).

47 Valla already hinted at this, following Jerome: see Linde, ‘Lorenzo Valla’, 41–2. The arguments contra Judith were revisited by Luther in 1534 in his prefaces to the Apocrypha. Luther, Works, vol. 35, 336–8. 48 Scaliger to Jacques‑Auguste de Thou, 27 April 1591, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 159, ll. 14–19 (quotation in 18–19). 49 Scaliger to De Thou, 27 April 1591, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 159, ll. 25–34. Joseph Scaliger: The Power of Philology (1590–1609) 31

This would mean that Mesopotamia is situated on the western bank of the Euphrates, whereas it is actually situated on the eastern bank. According to the story, Nebuchadnezzar wanted to take revenge on Ammon, Moab, Judea, and Egypt, and persecute them ‘to where the two seas reunited’. ‘Who would agree with him that the arm of the Red Sea reunites with the Sea of Alexandria?’50 This argument is not so convincing, for the Septuagint does not say that the Mediterranean and the Red Sea reunite. The text has ‘to the boundaries of the two seas’, i.e., the place where the two seas both find their own boundaries, clearly indicating the isthmus.51 Scaliger also presents an argument concerning the transmission of the text: How about the huge differences between the Greek exemplar [i.e., the Septuagint] and the Latin text [i.e., the Vulgate]? They seem to derive from two different authors. This you can note even better in the book of Tobit, of which the Greek differs from the Latin, and the Hebrew version of the Jews differs from both of them.52 Finally, Scaliger points out that, if Judith had really existed, she would have been mentioned in the Talmud, for her story is even more spectacular than that of Esther. Judith was a young widow who beheaded a mighty officer, whereas Esther was a beautiful woman who only prevented a weak and foolish king from committing an unjust slaughter. Esther has her own feast on the calendar, and Judith would have had more reasons to be given one, too, had the Jews believed the story.53 After stating that he has no space to deal with the matter in full, Scaliger rounds off: ‘I leave it to you to drawn this conclusion the next time we see each other, but only between the two of us.’ Scaliger, who writes this letter in French, warns about ultramontane Catholics, whom he denotes by using a Greek epi- theton, and he asks De Thou ‘not to speak about this with anybody; you are wise enough’, reaffirming this request with a Horacian quip to fence off the unlearned.54 The use of covert Greek and indirect Latin quotations indicates that Scaliger tried to conceal his critical attitude towards Catholics. A couple of months later, he referred back to the letter, indicating its subject (the book of Judith) in Greek, again begging De Thou not to communicate the contents of their correspondence

50 Scaliger to De Thou, 27 April 1591, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2,159–60, ll. 35–41 (quotation in 40–1). 51 Judith 1:12: ‘ἐπὶ τὰ ὅρια τῶν δύο ϑαλασσῶν’. 52 Scaliger to De Thou, 27 April 1591, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 160, ll. 42–5. 53 Scaliger to De Thou, 27 April 1591, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 160, ll. 46–55. 54 Scaliger to De Thou, 27 April 1591, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 160, ll. 60–9: ‘Ce sont poincts qui ni se peuvent disputer en une feuille de papier. Par ce je laisse à vous les deduire à nostre premiere veue, pourveu qu’il n’y ait que vous et moi. Car notes que hactenus Christianismus criticos non habuit, qui decouvrent les folies non seulement des sophistes modernes, mais de ceux qui valoint plus qu’eux, voire τῶν ἀποθεωθέντων. Ne communiques ceci à personne, je vous prie. Tibi sapias. Oderis profanum volgus, et arceas. Et cest asses touchant ceci.’ See Horace, Odes 3.1.1 (‘Odi profanum vulgus, et arceo’). 32 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic to anyone and asking, in Latin, that he destroy it.55 Scaliger clearly attempted to prevent the circulation of these letters—an attempt that makes clear that such circulation was otherwise quite normal. Scaliger corresponded about the Bible with others besides Dolot and De Thou. Five letters to Gilbert Seguin responding to Seguin’s queries concerning the Bible were written around the same time and from the same town as the letter to De Thou: Preuilly in the beginning of the 1590s.56 In one of these letters, Scaliger explained one of his groundbreaking insights concerning the linguistic Sitz im Leben of the Jewish people in the first century ad. These Hellenistic Jews spoke a particular kind of semitically influenced Greek.57 Thanking Seguin for sending him a copy of Philo’s work, Scaliger noted this author’s lack of knowledge of Hebrew.58 Philo was a Hellenistic Jew from Alexandria, where the Jews used the Greek Septuagint translation, not the Hebrew Bible. In this, these Hellenistic Jews differed from Hebrew Jews, who read the Hebrew and Aramaic Bible in the synagogues. Philo himself wrote that the Septuagint was commissioned by Ptolemy Philadelphus and was carried out by seventy Jews in Jerusalem. The translation itself is only partly correct. Scaliger claimed that he understood certain things about Hellenistic Jews of which New Testament interpreters had always been ignorant. Hellenistic Jews knew no Hebrew, and some passages in the New Testament were therefore obscure.59 Incidentally, the passage in the letter (or perhaps the letter itself, or a copy thereof) in which Scaliger engages in what we might call the ‘philological historicization of scripture’60 was in the hands of François Vertunien, who copied it out into his collection of Scaligerana.61 Scaliger proceeds to explain the meaning of Psalm 20, the last verse of which Scaliger had apparently cited in a letter to Seguin, now lost. Seguin (in a letter

55 Scaliger to De Thou, 4 June 1591, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 176, ll. 4–5 and 8–10. 56 Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Coll. Dupuy, 395, has a copy of a small collection of Scaliger’s notes on the Old Testament. At the top of the first leaf of these notes (fol. 23r) is written ‘ad Seguinum’. Much of the text of these notes appears in the letters to Seguin printed in Scaliger’s Epistolae of 1627. Perhaps Scaliger used the notes as the basis for the letters to Seguin, but he may have copied them out from his letters before sending them off to Seguin. Perhaps someone else copied them out from the letters after Seguin received them. 57 Grafton,Joseph Scaliger, vol. 2, 413–19, and 510. 58 Scaliger to Gilbert Seguin, 11 November [1590–1592], in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 133, ll. 1–10. 59 Scaliger to Gilbert Seguin, 11 November [1590–1592], in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 133, ll. 11–20. 60 Levitin, ‘From Sacred History to the History of Religion’, 1147. 61 Grafton,Joseph Scaliger, vol. 2, 416, n. 73, already noted the similarity. See Prima Scaligerana, 136–7, s.v. ‘Philo Judaeus’. Vertunien, who was responsible for the text of the Prima Scaligerana, remained in contact with Scaliger after the latter left France in 1593. He may have excerpted Scaliger’s letter to Seguin. It is less likely that Scaliger copied out in his letter to Seguin a note that also lay at the basis of the text in the Prima Scaligerana. Vertunien may have copied out the fragment before it was sent off to Seguin, or he may have seen the letter in Seguin’s hands. Unfortunately, no manuscript of the Prima Scaligerana has ever turned up. Joseph Scaliger: The Power of Philology (1590–1609) 33 also lost) asked whether the original Hebrew text accorded with Scaliger’s interpretation. ‘Everybody understands the words of the Psalm’, Scaliger answers, ‘but no one has grasped the intention of the author (mentem auctoris) in it.’62 He then moves on to an analysis of the psalm as a rhetorical product in its own right, and attempts to lay bare its structure not via a discussion of its theological implications, but via a consideration of its internal structure, its narrative, and what he supposed to be the intention of the author. His concern was not the veritas of the words, but the historical sensus. In a later letter to Seguin, Scaliger continued to criticize the Septuagint. More importantly, he questioned the traditional account of its fashioning, demolishing the story of the separation of the translators and the miraculous seventy-two identical translations produced independently. This myth was based on the Letter of Aristeas, whose account was repeated, shortened, or expanded by a string of authors from both Christian and Jewish backgrounds. Scaliger thought that the Septuagint, ‘full of lies and falsities’, had more likely been produced by one person and believed that it had not been initiated by King Ptolemy Philadelphus. It would have been composed because the Jews knew too little Hebrew themselves, as their own kings forced them to speak and write Greek.63 Scaliger rounded off his letter to Seguin by writing: ‘But this is not the right time and place. Therefore, more face-to-face.’64 What Scaliger reserved for his franker face-to-face conversation may be gathered from the Scaligerana. Here, Scaliger argued that the tradition of the making of the Septuagint was a fiction. ‘Yet it is certain that men were sent to Philadelphus, but these compared what they were translating. They did not translate the Bible under divine inspiration, inspired, in a clear identical way, without a change of a full stop, all separated at the same time.’65 Elsewhere in

62 Scaliger to Gilbert Seguin, 11 November [1590–1592], in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 134, ll. 25–6. 63 Scaliger to Seguin [between 11 November 1590 and June 1593], in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 136–7, ll. 5–19. See also the discussion in Grafton, Joseph Scaliger, vol. 2, 417. To Philo is sometimes ascribed the story that the seventy-two translators, each working independently, produced verbally identical translations. This is reading a little too much into his text, for Philo does not write that the translators were separated, nor that each of them worked on the same text(s); see Wasserstein and Wasserstein, The Legend of the Septuagint, 44–5. For the story itself, see Aristeas, Epistola ad Philocraten, 301–16. 64 Scaliger to Gilbert Seguin [between 11 November 1590 and June 1593], in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 137, ll. 19–20: ‘Sed haec non sunt huius loci neque temporis. Plura igitur coram.’ 65 Secunda Scaligerana, 568–9, s.v. ‘Septant’: ‘Dicitur autem a Patribus omnibus veteribus Philadelphus, suasu . . . huius Demetrii misisse in Iudaeam, ut mitterentur viri, qui Biblia verter- ent, et sex ex singulis Tribubus, cum duae tantum essent Tribus. Iuda et Beniamin, reliquae capti- vae sub Salmanassare. Quomodo qui obiit tertio die, anno 30 [sic] regni Philadelphi, hoc suaserit ut Bibliothecam ille colligeret, et huius Demetrius custos constitueretur, et curator et administra- tor? [as is told in the Letter of Aristeas, 9–11]. Non credo ita illos convenisse; est commentum. Certum quidem est missos esse ad Philadelphum, sed isti vertendo una conferebant, non vero divinitus inspirati, uno plane modo, ne apice quidem mutato, omnes simul separati, tamen verter- unt Biblia.’ The year thirty is likely to be a slip, like 1700 for 700 (see below, n. 67). 34 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic the Scaligerana, Scaliger mobilizes historical context to denounce the ‘liar Aristeas’. According to Aristeas, Ptolemy Philadelphus sent to the Jews to have six sent from each of the Twelve Tribes, though there were not twelve tribes at that time: there were only Judah, and semi-Benjamin, and the Levites, who were dispersed through all the tribes and had no lot in Israel. The other tribes had been in captivity from the time of Salmanassar, 1700 [sic] years before Christ.66 The story in the letter was false, and the letter itself not authentic.67 Scaliger brings forth these same arguments in the Thesaurus temporum: ten of the twelve tribes had been deported and the librarian Demetrius had died at the beginning of Philadelphus’s reign. Not only did Scaliger use historical arguments to play down the authority of the Septuagint, but he also adopted an internalist approach, criticizing the Septuagint on linguistic grounds (although he admits that sometimes the translation is correct and elegant). For historical reasons, he thought the Septuagint should be maintained: after all, it was the translation used and cited by Church Fathers.68 Such a remark demonstrates Scaliger’s historicist awareness of the importance of having insight into historical actors’ sources. In a third letter to Seguin, Scaliger demolishes the claims of people who shored up their arguments for limiting royal power with a faulty interpretation of a common expression in Hebrew. Such ‘sophists and babblers’ did precisely the opposite of reconstructing the mens auctoris: they had a political agenda and failed to take the text on its own terms.69 Typically, Scaliger was irritated by the fact that those who, like himself, did take the text on its own terms were despised as ‘grammarians’ by interpreters who had no knowledge of grammar. For Scaliger, knowledge of grammar and languages were prerequisites for the interpretation of every text from antiquity, including the Bible. In a fourth letter, Scaliger once again explained, at Seguin’s request, the meaning of a passage from a psalm. After elucidating (on the occasion of Psalm

66 Translated thus by Grafton, Joseph Scaliger, vol. 2, 706, who remarks that 1700 years should really be 700 years. See Secunda Scaligerana, 205–6, s.v. ‘Aristeas’. 67 Wasserstein and Wasserstein, The Legend of the Septuagint, 256. 68 Secunda Scaligerana, 569–70, s.v. ‘Septante’. Scaliger was the first to denounce the authority of the Letter of Aristeas. The Jewish scholar Azariah de’ Rossi pointed out, in his bulky Light of the Eyes, published in 1573, that the story of the solitary confinement of each of the translators had not been accepted by Jerome, Flavius Josephus, Eusebius of Caesarea, Clement of Alexandria, and Epiphanius: De’ Rossi, The Light of the Eyes, 167. But Azariah did not himself question the authority of Aristeas, and in fact provided a Hebrew translation of the entire Letter of Aristeas (The Light of the Eyes, 33–77). From Scaliger, there is a leap to Richard Simon, who discussed the history of the Septuagint in his Histoire Critique du Vieux Testament (Paris, 1678). For a discussion of Simon, see Wasserstein and Wasserstein, The Legend of the Septuagint, 253–4. See also Mandelbrote, ‘Isaac Vossius and the Septuagint’, 109–11. 69 Scaliger to Gilbert Seguin, 21 May [1591?], in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 171–2, ll. 1–18 (l. 15: ‘sophistarum et aretalogorum hic est mos’). Joseph Scaliger: The Power of Philology (1590–1609) 35

91:5–6) night’s customary four-part division among the Jews, Scaliger denounced the Septuagint translators. In Psalm 91:6 (‘the destruction that wasteth at noon- day’), the Septuagint has ‘the mischance and demon of midday’. For some rea- shuwd, i.e., ‘that wasteth’) with) ׁשּוד son they translated the Hebrew verb form the noun δαιμόνιον (demon), presumably because they thought these demons wandered around at noon (as it says in the first Idyll of Theocritus, Scaliger stresses).70 In this instance, classical literature is identified as an influence causing incorrect translations. Usually, however, Scaliger advised the study of authors such as Aristophanes, Catullus, Tibullus, and Propertius to understand subtle semantic undertones in the language of the Bible, in particular the New Testament. The idioms of such ‘salacious authors’ in particular, but also those of Ovid and the Talmud, were indispensable for a correct understanding of the Bible.71 Commenting not only on the Old Testament and the Septuagint in his letters to Seguin, Scaliger also answers questions about the New Testament. Seguin had apparently wondered if there were a discrepancy between the gospels of Matthew and Mark in their different accounts of the colour of the robe that the Roman soldiers put on Jesus before mocking him. In a grammarian and antiquarian note, Scaliger explains: You are rightly doubtful about the ‘scarlet robe,’ which another evangelist calls ‘purple’. But ‘purple’ is a generic term. The species are scarlet and sea-purple. The one is won from the liquor of oysters or the purple-fish, the other from the seed of the low oak tree. The name ‘purple’ indicates both colours. And Pliny in 36.4 says purple is won from vermilion. So purple is not only won from the liquor of sea oysters, but extends to others as well.72 Importantly, Scaliger consistently makes clear that he wrote these philological observations not on his own initiative, but in answer to questions posed to him by Seguin. It was Seguin who asked whether the Hebrew agreed with Scaliger’s formulation in the line cited from Psalm 20; who asked about Psalm 91 (‘de quo quaeris’); and who voiced his doubts about the colour purple in Matthew and

70 Scaliger to Gilbert Seguin, 13 June 1591, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 187, ll. 18–40. in the Hebrew Masoretic text and ἀπὸ συμπτώματος מִ ּקֶ טֶ ב יָׁשּוד ָ צ הֳ רָ ֽ ִ י םThe second half of 91:6 runs καὶ δαιμονίου μεσημβρινοῦ in the Septuagint. 71 Prima Scaligerana, 22, s.v. ‘Auctores’; and Secunda Scaligerana, 453, s.v. ‘Metamorphoses’. De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 84. 72 Scaliger to Gilbert Seguin, 27 December 1592, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 281, ll. 11–16: ‘Recte ambigis περὶ τῆς κοκκίνης χλαμύδος, quam alius Evangelista κοκκίνην vocat. Sed πορϕύρα est genus. Species ἁλιπόρϕυρον et κόκκινον. Alterum ex ostreo sive muricis sanie, alterum ex grano ilicis humilis. Uterque color nomine purpurae continetur. Et Plinius lib. XXXVI, cap. VI dixit purpuram ex sandyce. Purpura igitur non de marini tantum ostrei sanie, sed ad alia extendi- tur.’ The first reference is to Matthew 27:28; the second to Mark 15:17, where the same cloak is designated πορϕύρα, and not κοκκίνην. I have adapted my English translation as if Scaliger’s text reads ‘porfura’. The slip, κοκκίνην for πορϕύρα, may go back to Scaliger’s lost autograph, or it may have been introduced by later copies. Cf. Prima Scaligerana, 141, s.v. ‘purpura’. The reference to Pliny seems to be to Natural History, 35.40. 36 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

Mark (‘recte ambigis’). This is entirely in accord with what De Thou said about Scaliger in relation to theological discussions: As for Scaliger’s sentiments on religion, I solemnly affirm that I never heard this great man dispute on the controverted points of faith; and I am well assured that he never did discuss them but upon provocation, and then reluctantly.73 In the letters to Dolot, De Thou, and Seguin, Scaliger was responding to their queries. His remarks were not the result of a project he was working on and on which he wished to report. The letters show two strategies of keeping information secret: a request for confidentiality, and a postponement of communication (as if Scaliger did not trust his correspondent’s, or the messenger’s, ability to maintain secrecy). Later editors did honour Scaliger’s wish in his letter to De Thou that its contents not be shared: this letter was not published until 2012. Scaliger was also careful in his letters to Seguin. He drew the line not by asking his correspondent for confidentiality but by postponing the rest of the discussion to a time when they could speak to each other in private. What was said during conversation was less easily disseminated, hence it was safer to wait for a face-to-face meeting to discuss issues in which the expression of views could have inconvenient consequences. Parts of the letter in which he writes this proved interesting enough to be transcribed,74 and the letters to Seguin were printed posthumously. Daniel Heinsius, editor of these posthumously published letters, had no reason for reserve, as Scaliger did not treat subjects or arguments that he did not dare put in writing. In the purely antiquarian letter to Dolot, Scaliger says nothing about the possible circulation of its contents, hence this letter was to be printed a mere year after Scaliger’s death. In the letter referring to the colour purple, Scaliger says nothing at all about restricting the circulation of its information. The exercise of control was dependent on two factors: the potential subversiveness of the letter (the more controversial the subject, the stricter the control the author attempted to exercise) and the confidentiality of the communication (the less confidentiality, the greater the control exerted by the letter writer). Scaliger was aware that he lost control over his letters once they left his home. It is therefore interesting to look at another source, which reflects the discussions he had at home. These were oral and hence safer than written communication.

1.4. SCALIGER’S BIBLICAL PHILOLOGY IN THE SCALIGERANA

When Scaliger was invited to settle in Leiden, he was exempted from lecturing. Nevertheless, he did engage in private teaching. At some point, students were

73 Quoted by Grafton, Joseph Scaliger, vol. 1, 123. 74 Scaliger to Gilbert Seguin [between 11 November 1590 and June 1593], in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 137, ll. 19–20. Joseph Scaliger: The Power of Philology (1590–1609) 37 part of Scaliger’s household. To what extent his lessons were formalized we do not know. Most of his colleagues’ private lessons would have taken the shape of private collegia: groups of students receiving instruction in a more or less systematic way, often in preparation for their public disputations. There are no indications that Scaliger cared about such formalities. His ‘lessons’ were probably more informal, and in any case he carefully selected his students, unwilling to waste his time teaching basic knowledge and skills. Some of Scaliger’s more poignant opinions were voiced during conversations or privatissima (tutorials) with students in the confines of his own house. His student Jean de Vassan, and, to a lesser extent, his brother Nicolas jotted down some of Scaliger’s sayings when they boarded with him during the years 1603–1606. The manuscript with these remarks was eventually printed, in 1666, as the Scaligerana.75 Its immediate success (it was reprinted in 1667, 1668, and 1669) gave the existing genre of table talk—think of Luther’s Tischreden (1566) and James I’s Apothegmes, or Table Talk (1643)—a new impulse and inaugurated a craze for publishing the apophthegmata and sententiae of the learned: thus flourished the often scandalous genre of the ‘-ana’, which became immensely popular in the second half of the seventeenth century.76 In 1669 a new, or rather, an older collection of Scaligerana saw the light, containing remarks which Scaliger’s longtime friend François Vertunien had recorded between 1575 and 1593.77 These Prima Scaligerana (though they appeared later, they dated from an earlier period) seem to have been derived not only from Scaliger’s mouth, but in at least some cases also from his letters.78 Despite the shorter period of recording, the later Secunda Scaligerana from 1604–1606 are about four times more extensive than the earlier publication. TheScaligerana were published by Isaac Vossius.79 In doing so, Vossius crossed the boundary between private and public, which led to an outcry of protest. In 1627 and 1628, Heinsius had already been criticized by Gerard Vossius (1577–1649) for his insufficient censorship of Scaliger’s letters in his edition of the Epistolae, which painted a portrait of Scaliger whose character did not quite harmonize with that of an ideal prince of the Republic of Letters.80 But now, in the book published by Vossius, an ‘uncensored’ Scaliger came across as more outspoken than ever before. While most of its readers were likely amused with the disdainful, if not arrogant, tone of some of his contemptuous comments on his colleagues, others were scandalized. The Scaligerana teem with observations showing that

75 On the Scaligerana, see Grafton, ‘Close Encounters of the Learned Kind’, and Delatour, ‘Pour une édition critique des Scaligerana’. 76 See Wild, Naissance du genre des –ana; See also Michael Lilienthal’s ‘Observatio VI de libris in ANA’. 77 Prima Scaligerana, ed. Faber. 78 See Grafton Joseph Scaliger, vol. 2, 416, n. 73) etc. (n. 61 above). 79 Many of Vossius’s own witticisms, anecdotes, and sayings (which we might call ‘Vossiana’) appeared in 1668 under the guise of ‘Keimelia literaria’ in Paulus Colomesius’s Opuscula (in a later edition: Colomesiana, which often does not record opinions of Colomesius, but of Vossius, and still more often of other scholars, as remembered by Vossius). 80 Van Miert, ‘Confidentiality and Publicity’, 13–14. 38 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

Scaliger struggled with the tension between the trust in his scholarship and his faith in the Bible. The remarks also show that Scaliger engaged with the biblical text to a far greater extent than appears from his letters and printed works. Scaliger likely never anticipated that his remarks would eventually be published: it was customary for students to take notes and Table Talk was not an established genre. Thus, the Scaligerana reflect a more intimate setting even than his letters. Scaliger’s observations in the Scaligerana on the Bible can be grouped under several headings: textual criticism; interpolations; authorship; etymology; and wider contexts such as antiquarianism and medical historicization.

Textual Corruption

In the Scaligerana we can witness how important chronology was for the development of Scaliger’s biblical philology. Here he pronounces that Ambrose, Augustine, and Chrysostom had already ‘tortured themselves in vain’ over the different times given by the evangelists for the arrival of the women at Christ’s tomb. He ascribed the divergent times of Matthew 28:1, Mark 16:2, Luke 24:1, and John 20:1 to an ‘error and a corruption by a scribe; I do not know what to s a y ’. 81 And: ‘At some point in the Chronicles a king is said to have reigned 24, elsewhere only two years: clearly a scribal error.’82 At his dinner table he could confide that ‘manuscripts could be corrupted, then as now; what is written on paper could always be corrupted’.83 The text of the Old Testament was pretty secure. The Jews preserved the text well: ‘It will be very difficult to prove that the Hebrew Bible is corrupt’, Scaliger told his students.84 But the text of the New Testament was more corrupt. There is, for example, the problem of the contradicting chronologies given by the gospels to refer to the time of Christ’s crucifixion. According to John (19:14), Christ was given over to be crucified at the sixth hour, while Mark (15:23) said Jesus was crucified at the third hour.85 This, Scaliger says, is a great difficulty: it is an error due to the corruption of manuscript copies. This corruption goes a long way back, for Augustine himself worked to solve it. The corruption has been all the larger, because they copied out but one single copy, and

81 Secunda Scaligerana, 312, s.v. ‘Error’; De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 83; Grafton,Joseph Scaliger, vol. 2, 740. 82 Secunda Scaligerana, 312–13, s.v. ‘Error’: ‘Alibi in Chronicis dicitur Rex 24 annos regnasse, alibi tantum duos; error est librarii manifestus.’ I have not been able to identify, in the books of Chronicles, a king reigning for twenty-four years. In the First book of Kings, Baasha (1 Kings 15:33) is said to have reigned for twenty-four years, but he is not mentioned elsewhere. 83 Secunda Scaligerana, 313, s.v. ‘Error’. See also Grafton,Joseph Scaliger, vol. 2, 740, whose translation I follow. 84 Secunda Scaligerana, 234–6, s.v. ‘[in] Bibliis’. 85 De Lang, De opkomst, 84. Joseph Scaliger: The Power of Philology (1590–1609) 39

the monks have filled in a great deal, in accordance with their ignorance. For example in Flavius Josephus, as Eusebius cites it; so that the corruption is quite old.86 Here, Scaliger compares the textual corruption of the New Testament with the corruption in the work of a pagan author. The last sentence refers to Flavius’s testimony about Jesus’s life, which was cited in a slightly different wording by Eusebius in the first quarter of the fifth century ad. Scaliger thought the entire testimony to be a forgery, inserted into Josephus’s text by Christians: They have added the treatise on Jesus Christ to Josephus [i.e., the Testimonium Flavianum]. What danger would there have been if Josephus had not mentioned Jesus Christ? It is Christians who have added this. Josephus makes no mention of the infanticide, which was an extraordinary cruelty.87 Claiming that Christians added things to the text of Josephus is one thing; saying that they added things to the text of the New Testament, which is what Scaliger had in mind when he said the monks ‘had filled in’ the text of the New Testament, was quite another: this brought textual criticism to quite a daring level. In the same entry on Josephus in the Scaligerana, Scaliger professed anxiety about another chronological problem, the incongruity between Josephus’s account of the date of King Herod’s marriage to his sister-in-law Herodias and the story as it appears in the New Testament: The matter of Herodias, wife of Herod, which is different in Josephus, is a terrible thing. For who would have led him to lie about it? The ancient Christians have added much to the New Testament. They could also have changed that passage. Josephus is a very truthful author in his history, and more truthful than any other author, and very faithful. He says he had it from the Acta of Herod.88 The text of Josephus is correct, because Josephus had no reason to lie. He worked, according to Scaliger, from ‘Acta’, i.e., official state papers. The implication is that the Christians did have reason to lie, and hence to add things to the texts that became part of the New Testament. So chronological incongruity brought Scaliger to far-reaching conclusions with regard to the stability of the New Testament’s text. At this point Scaliger also uttered his famous remark on the fifty ‘additions or changes’ to the New Testament that he had discerned. Chronological study forced Scaliger to reconstruct the history of the transmission of the text of Eusebius’s Chronicle, but the insights he gained were also applicable to the transmission of the New Testament. Such interpolations or additions are found elsewhere in the New Testament. Take John 9:7:

86 Secunda Scaligerana, 282–3, s.v. ‘Hora’ (following ‘Hommage’). 87 Secunda Scaligerana, 399, s.v. ‘Josephe’. 88 Secunda Scaligerana, 398–9, s.v. ‘Josephe’. My translation is partly based on Grafton, Joseph Scaliger, vol. 2, 739–40. 40 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

And said unto him, Go, wash in the pool of Siloam, (which is by interpretation, Sent). According to Scaliger, the parenthesis is ‘an addition by the early Christians, who interspersed the Bible with everything they thought was conducive for Christianity’. But in this case, they were wrong: ‘Siloe here signifies as much as Gichon, which is like a lock, when something flows, an arm, an exit of a large water, as the Rhone from the lake [of Geneva]; just as if it were a pool and water flowed down from the pool.’89 This was not the first instance, nor the last, of what Scaliger meant when he spoke of ‘fifty additions or changes’ to the text of the New Testament: at Acts 13:8, for example, he also said things had been added to the text.90 In a letter to De Thou, he suggested emendations to Mark 9:49, and in the Genevensia, he gave an alternative reading for 1 Corinthians 15:32.91 Still, it should be noted that, when it comes to textual criticism in the limited sense of the constitution of the original text, Scaliger is restrained. He corrects almost nothing on the basis of manuscript evidence, and makes relatively few conjectural emendations. He was sceptical enough about the quality of the extant New Testament manuscripts to think that such manuscripts were not a sound basis for emendation. ‘As to the old manuscripts of the New Testament which are at hand, I would not want to have them, no matter how old they are. For they have been very corrupted. One can better rely on the Church Fathers who cite the Bible, and who are transmitted in better copies.’92

Authorship and Authority

Scaliger made bold comments on the authorship of the Epistles. Scaliger was not the first to doubt the Pauline authorship of the Epistle to the Hebrews, but he theorizes that the author was a Hellenistic Jew who had no knowledge of Hebrew, in particular because of the author’s confused idea about the Ark of the Covenant.93 Scaliger rejects as well the attributions of Jude, James, 2 Peter,

89 Secunda Scaligerana, 574, s.v. ‘Siloe’. 90 Secunda Scaligerana, 304, s.v. ‘Elymas’: ‘Cette exposition d’Elymas “c’est à dire Magus” non est genuina.’ See De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 83. 91 Scaliger to De Thou, 13 December 1595 (a), in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 579–81, ll. 15–38. De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 83. 92 Secunda Scaligerana, 589, s.v. ‘Testament’: ‘Quant aux vieux livres du Nouveau Testament à la main, je ne m’y voudrois tenir, tant vieux soient-ils, car ils sont tres corrumpus; il vaut mieux se rapporter aux Peres qui citent l’Escriture, et qui se sont servis de meilleurs exemplaires.’ See De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 83. 93 Secunda Scaligerana, 306, s.v. ‘Epistolae’: ‘Epistolae ad Hebraeos existimat autorem fuisse Iudaeum quendam Graecum, imperitum Hebraicae linguae, qui dicit Candelabrum fuisse in arca, quod falsum, et nusquam extat in Veteri Testamento’; cf. Secunda Scaligerana, 568–9, s.v. ‘Hellenistae’: ‘ . . . ut autor Epistolae ad Hebraeos, qui non est Paulus, sed quidam Hellenista. Joseph Scaliger: The Power of Philology (1590–1609) 41 the three Epistles of John to their eponymous authors; they contain extraordinary elements, which do not seem apostolic.94 Scaliger also doubted John’s authorship of the Book of Revelation, and thought it had been written in Hebrew, not Greek.95 Yet he called it a ‘truly canonical book’ of prophecies.96 De Jonge has warned us not to exaggerate the radicality of Scaliger’s doubting of the authorship of some of the canonical New Testament books. Still, Scaliger was exceptional ‘in the great number of writings in the New Testament which he regarded as unauthentic’.97 One book in the New Testament proved largely immune to Scaliger’s philological toolset: the Book of Revelation. Being a book that was not placed in a historical context, Revelation could not be explained by pointing out parallels in the meaning of ritual vocabulary or antiquarian practices. Mystical texts such as these, which invited allegorical interpretations, did not appeal to Scaliger’s practical, historical, and down-to-earth philological mentality. ‘There’s only the chapters 13 and 17 which are clear enough and which we understand.’98 He did not pause to criticize others who fell short of his own standards, such Heinrich Bullinger and John Napier. He drew special attention to Jean Constans de Montauban.99 Constans ‘wanted to prove the Olympiads

Paulus quidem Hellenista, nam Tarsi natus, sed educatus ad pedes Gamalielis.’ See also De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 80. 94 See Secunda Scaligerana, 306–7, s.v. ‘Epistola’. 95 Secunda Scaligerana, 200–1, s.v. ‘Apocalyps[in]’: ‘Vix credo Joannem Apostolum autorem qui estant conjoincts ,ת & א esse Apocalypseos. L’Apocalyps a esté escrite en Hebreu, α & ω c’ est vaut autant à dire que alpha thau, subaudi est Deus.’ 96 Prima Scaligerana, 15, s.v. ‘Apocalypsi’: ‘[ea] quae in Apocalypsi Canonico vere libro prophetice scribuntur’. Here, a previous commentator on the Scaligerana, Tanneguy Lefèvre (Tanaquil Faber), has a note: ‘Cum Apocalypsin Ioannis vere Canonicum esse librum dicit Scaliger, nondum is erat Scaliger qui postea fuit, nam longe aliter postea censuisse ipsum accepi.’ I have found no evidence that Scaliger later argued against the canonicity of the book of Revelation. 97 De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 84. 98 Secunda Scaligerana, 246 (misprinted as 146), s.v. ‘Bullingerus’: ‘Il n’a que les 13. et 17. chapi- tres qui soient bien claires, et que nous entendions.’ Secunda Scaligerana, 200–1, s.v. ‘Apocalyps[in]’: ‘In Apocalypsi sunt tantum duo capita quae possunt intelligi, sunt valde aperta, nec potest eorum expositio negari.’ Compare Scaliger’s letter to De Thou, 17 November 1592, in Scaliger,The Correspondence, vol. 2, 271, ll. 15–19. Scaliger’s admission that he could make little sense the Book of Revelation contrasts markedly with his boast from an earlier date, recorded in the Prima Scaligerana, 15, s.v. ‘Apocalyps[i]’: ‘Hoc possum gloriari me nihil ignorare eorum quae in Apocalypsi Canonico vere libro prophetice scribuntur, praeter illud caput in quo vae septies repetitur; ignoro enim idne tempus praeterierit, an futurum sit.’ Perhaps Scaliger meant that he had engaged in profound study and had sifted out all there was to know. 99 For Bullinger, Prima Scaligerana, 15, s.v. ‘Apocalyps[i]’; for Bullinger and Napier, see Secunda Scaligerana, 146, s.v. ‘Bullinger’. For Constans, see Secunda Scaligerana, 275, s.v. ‘Constant’; 200, s.v. ‘Apocalyps[in]’. Scaliger referred to him and his commentary on Revelation in his letters to De Thou and Simon Goulart. See Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 143–4. According to Momméja, ‘Un numismate montalbanais’, (following Jacques Lelong and Charles Marie Fevret de Fontenette, Bibliothèque historique de la France, contenant le catalogue des ouvrages imprimés et manuscrits qui traitent de l’histoire de ce royaume (nouvelle édition), Paris, 1768–1778, book II, chapter iv), this was Johannes Constans (called ‘Cadurcus author’), Septuaginta Danielis hebdomadum expositio, 42 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic by means of the Book of Revelation, and not by means of the pagan authors’.100 This underscores the authority that Scaliger assigned to pagan authors vis-à-vis the New Testament. In a rare excursus about the Book of Revelation, we meet a Scaliger who was not so down-to-earth, perceiving a doctrinal similarity between Albigensian and Lutheran theologies which was not merely coincidental: It’s of them, the Albigenses, that the prophecy of Daniel 7:25 speaks of: ‘The saints shall be given into his hand until a time and times and half a time.’ And Revelation 12:14: ‘And to the woman were given two wings of a great eagle, that she might fly into the wilderness, into her place, where she is nourished for a time, and times, and half a time, from the face of the serpent.’ This is to say that after three hundred years and half of hundred, the visible church of the Albigenses would return in Luther and his successors, who came exactly 350 years after their defeat and perse- cution, for one time or day in the Scripture stands for one hundred years.101 Perhaps it was the chronological aspect of the expression ‘a time and times and half a time’ which elicited this interpretation of the prophecy. In general, Scaliger found Revelation a problematic book, and he thought Calvin ‘wise not to have written on the Book of Revelation’.102 ‘Calvin’, he proclaimed, ‘treated the Bible, like it should be treated: pure and simple, with no scholastic argumentations.’103 As a philologist and classical scholar, versed in Greek and Hebrew, Calvin tried to reckon with the public for whom the text had been written, and he avoided allegorizations.104 Scaliger admired his Commentaries more than his Sermons.105 Scaliger was slightly less favourably disposed towards Calvin’s successor Theodorus Beza. Too often Beza criticized Erasmus,106 while Beza himself had an imperfect command of languages.107 And knowledge of languages, combined with knowledge of ancient customs, mattered to Scaliger, for the ancient

Montauban: D. Hautinus, 1590. I was unable to identify this book. On Constans, see also Haag and Haag, La France Protestante, vol. 4, 24. 100 Secunda Scaligerana, 275, s. v. ‘Constant’: ‘Il vouloit prouver les Olympiades par l’Apocalypse, et non par les auteurs profanes.’ 101 Scaliger calculated: a time (100), times (2 x 100), and half a time (50 years). Secunda Scaligerana, 48–9, s.v. ‘Chaignards’. 102 Secunda Scaligerana, 250–1, s.v. ‘Calvin’: ‘Calvin a tres-bien fait de ne rien escrire sur l’Apocalpyse. . . . Sapit quod in Apocalypsin non scripsit.’ 103 Prima Scaligerana, 41, s.v. ‘Calvinus’: ‘Calvinus . . . litteras Sacras tractavit ut tractandae sunt: vere, inquam, et pure ac simpliciter sin ullis argumentationibus scholasticis.’ 104 Hall, ‘Biblical Scholarship’, 87–8. 105 Secunda Scaligerana, 251, s.v. ‘Calvin’: ‘J’aime bien mieux les Commentaires de Calvin que ses Sermons.’ 106 Secunda Saligerana, 230–1, s.v. ‘Beza’: ‘Beza nimis reprehendit Erasmum in minutulis et interdum iniuste . . . Insultat et triumphat de Erasmo, il a grand tort . . . Beze reprends souvent et a tort Erasmus, il s’amuse et s’abuse à le reprendre.’ 107 Secunda Saligerana, 231: ‘Beza credidit versioni Junii Actorum ex Arabico, et interdum causa fuit cur erraret. Rafelengius Pater [i.e. Franciscus Raphelengius Sr] scripserat ad Bezam errores propter illud Arabium; non curavit Beza. . . . il n’a pas bien entendu les langues.’ Joseph Scaliger: The Power of Philology (1590–1609) 43

Christians had adopted many pagan ceremonies. The transfer was not only cultural, but also linguistic: Christ borrowed many phrases from the Jews to persuade the Pharisees by using their own expressions.108 Such expressions needed to be contextualized, which led to the conclusion that some proverbs, such as ‘turn the other cheek’, need not be taken as universal rules. In the Scaligerana, Scaliger pointed out that some idiomatic expressions in the New Testament appear in the Talmud: they reflected Jesus’s use of the ordinary language of the Jews.109 As early as 1590, Johannes Drusius Sr gave evidence of the same insight in his Proverbia; indeed, Scaliger stimulated him, providing him with some examples for his Adagia Ebraica (1597).110

Etymologies and Antiquarianism

Not only did Scaliger use grammar and his knowledge of biblical idiom to explain the meaning of scriptural passages. He also interpreted on the level of words. In a letter to De Thou, Scaliger explains a passage that appears in each of the Synoptic Gospels and that pertained to a central sacrament, that of the Eucharist. Scaliger demonstrated that Hebrew semantics shaded through on the Greek surface, and used the Syriac translation, ‘which is the best and the most ancient translation of the New Testament’. Holy Communion in early times consisted of three parts: the breaking of the bread (the Eucharist), the meal itself, and the drinking of the wine. Lack of linguistic knowledge led even the earliest Christian interpreters (vetustissimi) astray.111 In what sense precisely, becomes clear only from the entry ‘Eucharistie’ in the Scaligerana: Is it not a great abuse of the Papacy to get rid of the true use of the Eucharist? For they [i.e., the Catholics] say that ‘this must happen for the forgiveness of sins’ in their missal, their liturgy, and even when they celebrate their Mass for those who are in purgatory, it is only ‘for the forgiveness of sins’. Christ has not instituted the Supper for that reason; it’s a fundamental abuse.112 Holy Communion was instituted to give thanks for God’s love, not for the forgiveness of sins—as was in accordance with Scaliger’s beliefs. A much-discussed subject for those who studied the Book of Nature was the names of the animals mentioned in the Bible.113 Scaliger admitted that their names are unknown. ‘But the Jews recognize by another token those [animals] which they cannot recognize straight away; that is, a token common to all ruminants with cloven hoofs.’114

108 Prima Scaligerana, 49–50, s.v. ‘Christiani’. 109 Secunda Scaligerana, 521–2. 110 See also De Jonge, De bestudering, 45. 111 Scaliger to De Thou, 7 November 1592, in Scaliger,The Correspondence, vol. 2, 271, ll. 20–31. 112 Secunda Scaligerana, 319, s.v. ‘Eucharistie’. 113 See Jorink, Reading the Book of Nature, passim. 114 Secunda Scaligerana, 194, s.v. ‘Animaux de la Bible’. 44 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

Scaliger spoke out, for example, on the issue of the akrídes on which John the Baptist fed when he dwelled in the desert. In the Prima Scaligerana, Scaliger thought that an akrís could refer to both a locust and the shoots of trees.115 ‘John the Baptist ate those shoots, not locusts, which is clear from a Greek translator of the Gospels.’ ‘This is incorrect’, the editor of the Scaligerana added.116 And indeed, in the Secunda Scaligerana, Scaliger voiced a different interpretation: he now thought the akrídes were locusts, and after explaining that Strabo and Diodorus Siculus mention a tribe of locust-eaters (‘today they eat them raw with salt, sun-dried’), he describes two types of locusts (‘I would not eat them’, he added).117 Again, a pagan author offered parallels to help explain the biblical text. Scaliger also commented on the bdellium or badeloch mentioned in Genesis 2:12, professing that it was uncertain what this referred to. Scaliger agrees with the Septuagint, against the Jews, that it might be a sardonyx. ‘I put more trust in the Septuagint for names of animals, stones, etc. than in others, because they were close to the good times. The onyx is known, but it is uncertain that what’s in text signifies an onyx. It is our conjecture.’118 This is a curious piece of information, considering that Scaliger had greater confidence in the Hebrew Masoretic text than the Septuagint, rejecting the ages given to the life spans of the patriarchs in the latter. The argument that the Greek translators had lived closer to the times when Genesis was written, then, yielded trustworthy information only when applied to the taxonomy of animals and stones, but not if the matter concerned chronology. It would appear that Scaliger thought errors in the transmission of the sacred text had more readily been made in the translation of historical events and sequences than in the rendering of isolated pieces of natural knowledge.119 Scaliger’s remarks on the Old Testament usually concern the interpretations of words denoting natural objects or ritual practices. Take the explanation of ‘Beelzebub’. Scaliger explains the derivation of Beelzebub’s epithet ‘Lord of the Flies’ (‘because flies flocked to altars of the Idols’). An alternative name is ‘Beelphegor’ (Thundergod), because Beelzebub was said to thunder before the idol-worshippers. Scaliger here uses the Greek βροντάω, which means ‘to thunder’, but also ‘to break wind’. Typical is Scaliger’s reference to pagan sources and cultural-religious contexts to explain the meaning of words:

115 Matthew 3:4. Locusts populated the cabinets of curiosities at the turn of the seventeenth century, when these cabinets, as three-dimensional installations of the ‘Book of Nature’, usually served to illustrate the primary book, the Bible. See Jorink, Reading the Book of Nature, 188, 217, and, more generally, 257–345. 116 Prima Scaligerana, 7, s.v. ‘Ἀκρὶς ἀκριδος’. 117 Secunda Scaligerana, 183, s.v. ‘Ἀκρίδες’. 118 Secunda Scaligerana, 221, s.v. ‘Bdellium’. 119 The Septuagint translates bdellium as ‘anthrax’ (carbuncle), a precious stone of dark-red colour. Although the precise meaning of bdellium is still disputed, most translators deem it as a transparent and fragrant, yellowish gum; see The Brown-Driver-Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon, 96, s.v., (Strong’s no. 916). Joseph Scaliger: The Power of Philology (1590–1609) 45

Hence the joke in Aristophanes’s Clouds about thunder and farting.120 See Serarius. ‘Phehor’ also means a fart with the learned Hebraists. See Festus on omens and farts. The Egyptians adored farts and burps. The Jews observed that if someone farted during prayer, it would be bad omen; if they would vomit or sneeze, it was a good sign.121 In treating the word ‘Behemoth’, Scaliger argued that it was the incomplete name of the plural ‘Behemat Behemoth’, admitting that he had to ‘divine’ the names of animals and plants.122 In discussing the word ‘Bethania’ in John 1:28, he argued on geographical and phonetic grounds that it should read ‘Bethabara’. This argument occurred not only in the Scaligerana but also in De emendatione temporum, and it was noticed by his friend Johannes Drusius.123 This instance also indicates that in its selection of material the Scaligerana are not necessarily restricted to what was uttered only in the conversational setting, but that—as with the letters—its contents at times overlapped with what was contained in his printed works. Scaliger’s comments could also take the measure of antiquarian research into rituals and customs. Thus, he interpreted Pilate’s washing of his hands as a Jewish custom.124 In a letter to Seguin, Scaliger deals with a passage from John (18:31): ‘Then said Pilate unto them, Take ye him, and judge him according to your law. The Jews therefore said unto him, It is not lawful for us to put any man to death.’ Scaliger offers a reminder that the Jews of Roman Judea were not permitted to execute prisoners. Those who relate the practice of executing prisoners to canon law are fools. Only the Romans crucified their convicts.125 And he noted that it was Roman soldiers who did the job, ‘not, as in Rome, some butcher living outside the city walls and held in ill repute’. This last remark is made at the end of the entry on ‘Biblia’ in the Prima Scaligerana.126 It is an important

120 This presumably refers to Clouds, 360. 121 Secunda Scaligerana, 224, s.v. ‘Beelzebub’: ‘Les Idoles estoient nommées dans l’Escriture d’autres noms qu’on ne les appelloit ordinairement; comme Beelzebub Deus muscarum, quia in illorum sacrificiis muscae advolarent; nunquam vero in Iudaeorum sacrificiis observant: ut Beel- phegor, Deus crepitus, quia Idololatris dicebatur βροντεὺς. Inde apud Aristophanem in Nub. iocus de tonitru et crepitu; vide ad Serarium. Phehor apud doctos Hebraeos signifie un pet, apud Festum de ominibus et crepitibus. Aegyptii adorabant les pets et les rots. Iudaei observant quod si inter orandum crepitus ventri[s] fieret, mali ominis esset, si eructarent vel sternutarent, boni.’ However, I found nothing in Festus on the relation between omina and crepita (P. 52M; 71M; 195M). Scaliger, in his own edition of 1575, does not say anything on crepita and omina. 122 Secunda Scaligerana, 255, s.v. ‘Behemot’. For discussions of Behemoth and Leviathan, see Jorink, Reading the Book of Nature, 376–7. 123 Secunda Scaligerana, 230, s.v. ‘Bethabara’; Scaliger, Opus de emendatione temporum, 1629, 553D; Drusius, Annotationes, 115 (ad loc.). See below, 2.5 Johannes Drusius, n. 95. 124 Secunda Scaligerana, 504–5, s.v. ‘Pilatus’. 125 Scaliger to Seguin, 15 October [1590–1592], in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 2012. 124–5, ll. 10–19 and 28. 126 Prima Scaligerana, 30, s.v. ‘Biblia’: ‘Nota ipsos milites tunc temporis solitos fuisse cruci- figere, non carnificem, qui Romae extra urbem habitabit, infamisque habebatur.’ 46 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

passage and deserves to be quoted at length: it shows Scaliger’s hermeneutical conviction that theology could benefit from biblical philology: A good critic could annotate many things in the Bible which up to now are unknown and which could contribute much to faith. Many things are falsely attributed to miracles in the passion of Jesus Christ and these things force Jews and heathens to recoil from the Gospel, or they can pose an obstacle to faith. Take for example that it is written that, after Christ was wounded in his side, water and blood flowed out. It is very wrong to ascribe this to Christ’s divine nature, for it rather is a sign for us that he really was a man who had water in the membrane around the heart, just like other men. The Jews were no longer able to argue that he was not yet dead when he was lifted off the cross by his disciples (as could happen to many), and that these disciples later falsely convinced the rabble that he had been resurrected. Because when that water round the membrane of the heart had flowed out due to the wound inflicted by the soldier’s spear, he had truly died for our sins (because no one can live if that water has flowed out), so that he truly was resurrected later for our redemption. Moreover, there are those who consider it a miracle that he sweated blood and water, and ascribe this to his divine nature, whereas this rather showed his fears and agony, which he endured for our sins and our redemption. This too happens to people who have thin blood and fairly permeable pores for it to ooze through. If this happens to people who have a harder skin and have drawn praiseworthy blood [sic], this would inflict maximum agony. There are others who proclaim it was new that Christ bore his own cross,127 although this was customary for the Jews. To support this, I have an excellent piece of textual evidence, by means of which I am able to show this very clearly. They say the crown of thorns around his head stung his head at many places and wounded him greatly, although there is no mention of that in the canonical authors, and it also lacks credibility that Christ was nailed to the cross carrying the crown of thorns, for he was first stripped of his clothes, and then had them put back on again before he was crucified.128 I could designate an infinite number of other things, if I would like. Further, that some call the soldier who opened Christ’s side Longinus they do not derive from Lonchítidos, that is the name of the spear (they knew well that this spear is called Lonchitis in Greek), but from some story which says that such was the name of the soldier.129 Scaliger stuck closely to the biblical text, playing down miracles in favour of rational explanations, taking refuge in anatomical knowledge. He also comes up with a naturalistic explanation why Christ, as a human being, might have sweated blood, again using medical notions such as the permeability of the skin and the thickness of blood. Scaliger claims to have textual evidence for a Jewish custom, and also refers to rituals and customs to debunk traditional readings, noting, for example, the difference between crucifixion practices in Judea and

127 Apparently, when being crucified. 128 Scaliger’s argument is not clear to me here. 129 Prima Scaligerana, 28–30, s.v. ‘Biblia’. Joseph Scaliger: The Power of Philology (1590–1609) 47

Rome. In interpreting the biblical text, Scaliger derives his arguments from the internal logic of the narrative (why Jesus’s side was pierced), medical knowledge (the permeability of pores), antiquarian practices (the bearing of the cross), what the text said or did not say (nowhere is it stated that Jesus wore the crown of thorns during his crucifixion), etymology (the origin of the name of Longinus), and familiarity with customs (crucifixion was carried out by Roman soldiers, not by outsiders given the authority to do so). Scaliger was convinced that such critical and rational explanations lowered the threshold for non- Christians’ potential conversion.

1.5. SCALIGER’S BIBLICAL PHILOLOGY IN THE MARGINS OF HIS BOOKS

More hidden away even than his discussions with his students were Scaliger’s private annotations. Some of these he jotted in the margins of the books he read, others he developed into more sustained arguments in his unpublished papers. I here discuss two sources, which, though not meant to be disseminated, were influential in the history of biblical philology. The first source is Scaliger’s copy of Beza’s 1582 edition of the New Testament, now in Weimar.130 The so-calledVinariensia , made up of Scaliger’s notes in this copy, was published in 1714 by Heinrich Leonhard Schurzfleisch.131 Many of the eighty notes are critical of Beza’s comments (some refer not to biblical verses but to Beza’s notes): Beza either translates incorrectly (e.g., Mark 5:16, Acts 1:4, and Acts 24:1), his explanations are flawed (e.g., Galatians 3:15), his cross-references are not justified (as in Matthew 28:1), his Hebrew is unsound (for example, in Luke 23:15, Acts 2:40, and Acts 24:5), or there are simply typographical errors (e.g., in the Hebrew at Luke 16:26). But Scaliger also criticizes Castellio (Galatians 3:19) and praises Erasmus (2 Timothy 4:5: ‘Beza translated wrongly; Erasmus correctly’). In addition, Scaliger observed what Beza had overlooked and implicitly corrected him. He presents alternative Latin translations (e.g., Mark 8:3, Luke 20:19, Romans 1:15, and Hebrews 1:1), identifies variants with the Syriac New Testament (as at Mark 7:24 and Acts 5:6), suggests alternative punctuation (Acts 1:2), identifies Hebrew influences in the Greek

130 De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 82, identified this copy, with the help of Dr Kratsch of the Nationale Forschungs- und Gedenkstätten der klassischen Deutsche Literatur in Weimar, Zentralbibliothek der deutsche Klassik, who informed him on 7 September 1973 in a letter that the shelfmark was 2oCL, 1:32. Ingrid Arnhold, of the Herzogin Anna Amalia Bibliothek of the Klassik Stiftung Weimar, kindly confirmed to me in an email of 27 February 2014 that the copy had survived the 2004 fire at Weimar, and has been restored. It now carries the shelfmark HAAB Cl I: 32. 131 Scaliger, ‘Animadversiones mss’. 48 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

(e.g., Mark 14:19, Luke 16:26, and Galatians 3:17), and comments on peculiar expressions in the Greek which Beza had misunderstood (Acts 2:46). But Scaliger also took up matters of a more theological nature, such as his discussion of baptism at 1 Corinthians 15:29. He sometimes refers to his own published work, for example in relation to the uses of Greek or Latin words (respectively, to Xenophon in his work on Eusebius, at Colossians 1:2, and to his edition of Catullus, at Acts 28:2). Most of the comments in the Vinariensia concern Acts (18) and Matthew (14). Mark (10), Luke (6), and John (1) receive fewer annotations. The Vinariensia have very little textual criticism, but offer much in the way of linguistic analysis. Historical contextualization (political or antiquarian) is limited. Scaliger also left behind an unpublished work on the presumed Hebrew origin of the gospel of Matthew.132 No doubt Scaliger spoke about this question on occasion and put it on the research agenda of the next generation; Franciscus Gomarus and Hugo Grotius would return to the subject in 1627 and 1641, as we will see in chapters 2 and 5.133 The issue was this: in 1537, Sebastian Münster had published a Hebrew version of Matthew, which a later editor, Johannes Quinquarboreus, or Jean Cinquarbres, (1551), believed to be the original version. The Christian Hebraists engaged in a cultural-historical discussion about the Jewish background of apostolic times.134 Scaliger appears to have written his unpublished commentary in 1557, when he was only seventeen.135 This was before he left the Catholic faith in the early 1560s. He had then thought that the case for or against the Hebrew origin of Matthew could not be settled. But later in life, he came to the conclusion that ‘it was foolish to say that Saint Matthew wrote in Hebrew the text which was published by Jean Mercier and Münster. It was translated into Hebrew only two hundred years ago in order to challenge Christians’.136 Scaliger’s copy of Quinquarboreus’s 1551 edition survives, and it shows how Scaliger reasoned: where the Hebrew ’Simon] Scaliger writes in the margin ‘ex Latino]סימון spells the name Simon (‘[transliterated] from the Latin’), for he knew the correct Hebrew spelling was Shim’ on].137] שמעון

132 Paris, BnF, ms Latin, 690. 133 On the Hebrew Matthew, see Horbury, ‘The Hebrew Matthew’. 134 Levitin, ‘From Sacred History to the History of Religion’, 1146. 135 I have not consulted the manuscript, but the online catalogue of the BnF describes this autograph as ‘XVIe siècle. De la main de Joseph Scaliger,—Au haut du f. 1, la cote: “1557” ’. De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 82, concluded that Scaliger must have written his commentary before 1562. I have not been able to confirm that the date ‘1557’ is also in Scaliger’s own hand (and it may be hard to identify the hand of a seventeen-year-old on the basis of his handwriting later in life). 136 Secunda Scaligerana, 446, s.v. ‘Matthaei 15’: ‘C’est une sotise de dire que Saint Matthieu ait escrit en Hebreu le texte qu’on fait imprimer Mercerus et Munster: il n’y a que 200 ans que les Juifs l’avoient tourné du Latin pour combattre les Chrestiens.’ Mercier made the Latin translation of this Hebrew text in an edition by Jean du Tillet (Paris, 1555). I have taken this example from .(קמח) Leiden University Library, shelfmark 837 G 28, 148 137 Dunkelgrün, ‘The Multiplicity of Scripture’, 166. Joseph Scaliger: The Power of Philology (1590–1609) 49

These observations confirm that Scaliger thought deeply and critically about the constitution of the text of the New Testament, and that he continued to do so throughout his life.

1.6. THE LIMITS OF FREEDOM

Why did Scaliger refuse to publish his philological annotations on the Bible, even if he thought they could strengthen faith? There are two answers: one is of a programmatic nature, but the most important reason lies in the social circumstances. Biblical philology was never a primary goal in Scaliger’s oeuvre. Whereas for many, biblical philology was ancillary to theology, for Scaliger it was a handmaiden to his chronological work. He studied the Bible thoroughly, but he always used his annotations in the context of broader arguments. Biblical philology was for him not an end in itself. More important, perhaps, is that Scaliger wanted to avoid controversy. This may seem less convincing, because Scaliger was never afraid of controversy; in his last years he engaged in published polemics with the Jesuits Nicolaus Serarius and Carolus Scribanius, and with Caspar Schoppe. What he feared more, however, was criticism from Geneva, but even in this Calvinist stronghold he had had his share of polemics with people like the French Protestant Hebraist Bonaventure Corneille Bertram (1531—1594).138 What, precisely, Scaliger was afraid of is demonstrated by a nice parallel from Isaac Casaubon’s life. In the Scaligerana it says that Casaubon had written ‘a few things on the New Testament’.139 Casaubon’s notes on the New Testament had indeed been printed, already in 1587, as his fourth publication. He dedicated them to his friend (and later foe) Philippe Canay de Fresnes: ‘What brought me writing them, you know well. But amidst what gales in this general storm over the Church my mind is tossed about when I wrote them, even that you are aware of.’140 But Casaubon was far from proud of the result, claiming later that the notes were ‘extorted from him by the publishers’, a conventional, perhaps even purely rhetorical excuse.141 Despite, or perhaps due to, his depreciative opinion of this youthful work, he noted at the end of the edition that at some point, he might

138 Grafton,Joseph Scaliger, vol. 2, 397–399. 139 Secunda Scaligerana, 259, s.v. ‘Casaubonus’: ‘Casaubonus pauca scripsit in Novum Testamentum’. 140 Casaubon, Novum Testamentum, sig. Aijv: ‘Quid me ad earum [sc. Notarum] scriptionem impulerit, ipse probe nosti. Quibus autem procellis in hac communi Ecclesiae tempestate, mens mea dum haec scribebam fuerit agitata, ne id quidem ignoras tu.’ 141 Pattison, Casaubon, 49. Forty years later, Daniel Heinsius did not judge the effort very posi- tively either: ‘Nam de Novo Casauboni Testamento, quis non videt esse naenias? De Notis ante annos aliquot excusis loquor.’ Heinsius to Jacobus Roverius, 21 October 1629 (Leiden University Library, Ms. Pap. 2 (13)). 50 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic want to do a better job in this field.142 But a less haphazard set of notes on the New Testament never came about, and Casaubon was therefore annoyed when he opened the autumn catalogue of the Frankfurt Book Fair of 1600, only to find his own name under the heading ‘Books to appear at the next fair’, where it said: ‘The New Testament in Greek, with notes from Casaubon’, to be printed by Christophorus Raphelengius in Leiden.143 He immediately wrote to Scaliger, asking him to stop Raphelengius from printing these notes. Raphelengius complied.144 At the time, Casaubon’s position had changed: he now resided in Paris and was policed with great care by the Catholic authorities, who hoped to convert him. Only after he left Paris could he exploit the full potential of his biblical philology, in his work against Baronio and Bellarmine. What Casaubon experienced around 1600 was precisely the scenario Scaliger had tried to avoid at all costs. In 1591, Scaliger told De Thou that he could not publish his notes on the New Testament without access to a Talmud and other books not available to him at that moment. In subsequent years, De Thou and other scholars would continue to press Scaliger to publish his notes. Scaliger finally responded to De Thou’s request with a poem, saying that ‘envy’ (invidia) would not allow him to do so: people would be offended.145 To a Calvinist professor of theology in Franeker he explained that writing a commentary on the Bible might be beyond his abilities (which was merely a rhetorically conventional answer), but also that he perhaps should not do it because it was not appropriate to his time. He acknowledged that a lofty mind should ignore the petty slanders of those who wrote about literature (again, a merely rhetorical gesture), but it would be more sensible to keep the Holy Scripture from being exposed to slander and to protect it by maintaining a modest silence. Calling

142 Casaubon, Novum Testamentum, 453. 143 The edition is announced in Gross, Elenchi seu indicis quinquennalis continuatio tertia; on sig. H1v, under the heading ‘Libri futuris nundinis prodituri’. It says: ‘Novum Testamentum Graecum cum notis Casauboni in 24, ibidem [i.e., apud C. Raphelengium] Lugduni’ (i.e., Lugduni Batavorum). 144 Scaliger to Casaubon, 17 November 1600, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 3, 520–2. On Casaubon’s treatment of the biblical text, see, Pattison, Casaubon, 336, in a very brief consideration where it is said that Casaubon ‘had shown a disposition to follow the true path of philological interpretation’ (it is not quite clear to me what Pattison means) and that ‘[t]his principle of exegesis was not so difficult of application while, as an annotator, he was dealing with each passage singly’. Casaubon’s main concern seems to have been to reconcile the gospels, although he distinguished between the Synoptic Gospels and John. 145 See Scaliger to De Thou, 2 December 1590, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 140, ll. 26–9; 12 February 1597, ibid., vol. 3, 16–17, ll. 28–38; and 25 November 1597 , ibid., 71, ll. 10–13; De Thou to Scaliger, 30 January 1595, ibid., vol. 2, 480–1, ll. 10–12); 31 October 1595, ibid., vol. 2, 561, ll. 12–20; 25 November 1602, ibid., vol. 4, 470, ll. 16–17; and 1 May 1603, ibid., vol. 5, 38–9, ll. 16–21); Scaliger to Philip du Plessis-Mornay, 6 December 1598, ibid., vol. 3, 224, ll. 16–18; Dolot to Scaliger, 24 May 1600, ibid., vol. 3, 423, ll. 20–30, and 28 November 1601, ibid., vol. 4, 124, ll. 31–5. See also De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 76–80 ; Van Miert, ‘The Limits of Transconfessional Contact’, 387–8. The poem Scaliger sent to De Thou was published in Scaliger, Poemata omnia, 33. See also Bernays, Joseph Justus Scaliger, 204 and De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 76–87 and 104, n. 114. Joseph Scaliger: The Power of Philology (1590–1609) 51 biblical annotations a ‘risky game’, he preferred to avoid the virulence of ‘deadly spirits’.146 It is conceivable that among the ‘deadly spirits’ Scaliger included some Calvinist theologians, but he seems primarily to have meant theologians in the Catholic camp. However, the intra-confessional differences within Calvinism were significant, as would appear soon after Scaliger’s death in 1609 in a dramatic form. Tensions between divines who argued for a further confessionalization of society ran counter to those, often living in other cities, who were sceptical about the possibility to control the conduct of church folk. Different ideas about theological questions such as infralapsarianism and supralapsarianism even divided the delegates at the Synod of Dordrecht, despite their consensus over the condemnation of Arminianism. While some divines argued for less interference of secular power in the affairs of the Church, other Calvinists held Erastian views. Scaliger was unwilling to publish his annotations, but not unwilling to share them on occasion with his correspondents. Not only do we find textual-critical remarks on the text of the Bible in his De emendatione temporum, his Isagogici chronologiae canones, his Thesaurus temporum, and his Confutatio fabulae Burdonum, but they appear also, and more frequently, in his letters and, as we have seen, his Scaligerana. These last two sources each functioned in a particular social context: a partially controlled milieu in the case of the letters, and an even more secluded environment for the Scaligerana. In the balance between, on the one hand, Scaliger’s willingness to answer his correspondents and, on the other, his reservations with regard to unwelcome responses, Scaliger can be seen struggling for control over the dissemination of his opinions. His decision to answer a question concerning biblical philology depended on the trust he put in the recipient’s promise to maintain confidentiality. Such confidentiality in turn depended on the character, religious affiliation, and social position of the recipient, and of course on the value Scaliger attached to a particular friendship. Working from the security of Leiden, Scaliger kept on studying the Bible. De Jonge has argued that Scaliger’s historical and philological arguments were framed by his anti-Catholic tendencies. ‘The undermining of Catholic conceptions was the goal of various exegetical notes by Scaliger.’ He argued against the existence of purgatory and associated the pope with the Antichrist.147 More importantly, ‘His lifework was an immense effort to shew [sic] that there could be another learning than the Catholic, and that in fact the critical use of the historical sources removed the foundations of Catholic tradition.’148 It was very

146 Scaliger to Martinus Lydius, 20 November 1600, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 3, 527–8, ll. 9–22. 147 De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 87. See also Haugen, ‘Joseph Scaliger’s Letters’, 116. 148 De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 86. This programme makes much more sense than the ‘secularization’ programme that Somos reads into Scaliger’s activities. See Somos, Secularisation and the Leiden Circle, passim. 52 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic hard for biblical philology to be neutral or impartial: philology could deconstruct things, but if it were not directed towards a higher goal (theological, philosophical, political), how could one evaluate its outcomes as positive or negative? In other words, ‘What was criticism for?’149 The negative responses from Geneva to Scaliger’s chronological work show that some co-religionists thought that Scaliger’s historical and philological scholarship could be harmful for Protestantism. Scaliger’s historicism ran, potentially and sometimes actually, counter to the tendency within Calvinism to close ranks and stabilize a Reformed orthodoxy. This tendency was not supported by all Reformed thinkers. In fact, when Scaliger died in 1609, Calvinism faced a crisis that resulted in the shaking off of Remonstrants and adherents of other Reformed currents, in the process upsetting the very foundations of the young Dutch Republic. The controversy started with a man whom Scaliger called a ‘vir maximus’ in his Scaligerana: Jacobus Arminius.150

149 Hardy, ‘Impartiality’, 302. 150 Secunda Scaligerana, 207, s.v. ‘Arminius’: ‘Arminius est vir maximus.’ 2

Biblical Philology: Nothing Radical (1609–1619)

The variant readings which occur in Scripture do not jeopardize its authenticity, because the variants are easily detected and distinguished, partly because of the coherence of the text, partly through a collation of the better manuscripts. Some are even of such a nature that, despite their differences, they still accord neatly with the same text. —Francis Turretin, 16791

2.1. THE LIMITS OF PHILOLOGY

In the year that Joseph Scaliger died, another highly influential professor at Leiden University also passed away: Jacobus Arminius. In the decade that followed, Arminius’s legacy gave rise to the religious and political Troubles of the Twelve Years’ Truce with Spain (1609–1621) over predestination and the relation between the State and the Church. It has sometimes been argued that the Arminian faction was particularly favourable to the kind of philology that had been advanced by Scaliger. But this chapter shows that biblical philology was not the prerogative of the more libertine faction in the orthodox Reformed Church. Philology could be employed in the service of more than one confessional group, if it was valuable in theological discussions at all. For philology proved to be only of marginal concern in the highly public theological discussion in the decade following the death of Scaliger in 1609. Arminius professed to value philological methods in his letters and showed insight into recent developments, but this was of no consequence for his dogmatic position. His adversary, Franciscus Gomarus, proved a far more accomplished philologist

1 ‘Variae lectiones quae occurrunt in Scriptura, authentiam eius non evertunt, quia facile dep- rehenduntur et diiudicantur, partim ex cohaerentia textus, partim ex collatione meliorum codicum, nonnullae etiam tales sunt, ut licet diversae, non male tamen eidem textui conveniunt.’ Turretin, Institutio; II.xi.8. 54 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic than Arminius, but his philological work postdates the Troubles and has therefore been largely ignored. The most accomplished biblical critic active during the Troubles, Johannes Drusius Sr, hardly played a role in the controversies themselves. A central figure, however, was Hugo Grotius. But even for Scaliger’s most talented pupil, textual criticism and linguistic analysis had little to offer. He was, however, able to use historical contextualization to his advantage.

2.2. THE CONTROVERSY STARTS

At the time that the champion of Protestant scholarship, Joseph Scaliger, was invited to come to Leiden, little attention was paid to biblical philology in the disputations defended at the University. From 1595 onwards, the Leiden professors of theology Junius, Gomarus, Lucas Trelcatius Sr, and others drilled their students in arguments defending the perfection, authority, perspicuity, and self-evidence of the written Word of God.2 The Calvinist consensus held that the authority of the text had been established by the inner testimony of the Holy Spirit.3 Given that in these very years several towering humanist philologists were working on Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Aramaic, Syriac, and Arabic texts in Leiden, it is striking that biblical philology played a negligible role in these disputations. In a disputation headed by Junius in 1600 we find the rare statement that the Hebrew Old Testament and the Greek New Testament are ‘in no way corrupt’.4 In the margin are listed mistakes and typographical errors in printed versions of the Vulgate. This lack of philological engagement endured. In the Synopsis purioris theologiae of 1625, a cycle of disputations defended under the professors of theology, which for many years served as a textbook, the subject of philology is hardly touched upon.5 As we have seen, Scaliger showed no particular interest in theology, and continued to pursue philological studies throughout his Leiden period (1593– 1609). But his reputation as a scholar was too large for him to escape being implicated in religious antagonism. His choice of Leiden set him beyond the reach of Rome: unlike that other great Protestant scholar, Isaac Casaubon, Scaliger was regarded as a lost case for reconversion, and hence a religious outlaw, free to be attacked, if not on theological grounds, then on personal or scholarly grounds.6 Scaliger identified the people who delivered such personal

2 Seventy disputations were collected and printed in 1614 as an explicit countering of Bellarmine: Hommius, LXX Disputationes. 3 Daugirdas, ‘The Biblical Hermeneutics’, 98; Van den Belt, ‘Autopistia’, passim. 4 Junius and Gulielmi, Disputatio theologica, thesis XVIII: ‘Sacra autem Scriptura, Hebraice in Veteri testamento et Graece in Novo conscripta, sit θεόπνευστος, αὐτόπιστος eoque ἀναμάρτητος, et nullo modo corrupta. . . . multis mendis et erroribus typographicis ex ipsorum confessione.’ 5 Van den Belt, ‘Autopistia’, 171. 6 Van Miert, ‘The Limits of Transconfessional Contact’. Biblical Philology: Nothing Radical (1609–1619) 55 and scholarly salvos almost exclusively (and sometimes wrongly) as Jesuits. Throughout his Leiden period, there were skirmishes with ultramontane Catholics, but Scaliger remained on relatively friendly terms with Catholics in Paris, and he was regularly briefed by Isaac Casaubon about what was going on there. Of course, Casaubon was also a source of information for others who wanted to know what was going on in Leiden. On 19 October 1607, Casaubon wrote from Paris to ask Scaliger about ‘sinis- ter rumours’ he had heard of a ‘new schism’ among the theologians of Leiden.7 Scaliger’s reply was an exercise in damage control: the purported rift was a false rumour, and there was not the slightest sign of a schism. It was just that ‘a very learned man, the best philosopher around, a top ranking theologian caused offense with his colleagues for not yet responding frankly what he thinks about certain chapters [of faith]’. There was no need to panic.8 We do not know what Scaliger thought of Arminius’s opinions on predestination. In fact, Arminius’s theological arguments were a world apart in orientation from Scaliger’s philological approach towards the scriptural text.

2.3. JACOBUS ARMINIUS

Discussions of the controversy over Arminianism have traditionally focused on theological and political questions, above all on predestination, soteriology, and the relation between Church and State. The question to what extent ‘Arminianism’ or Remonstrant theology differs from Arminius’s own thought is the subject of on-going research: the assessment of Arminius’s writings has clearly been coloured by the later association of Remonstrantism with the works of Faustus Socinus (Sozzini). ‘Arminianism’ itself is hard to define. In a broad sense, it can be seen as an attempt ‘to encompass a broad anti-Calvinism that is descriptive of everything from Protestant deconfessionalisation to Methodism to open theism, all of which may look to Arminius as their theological forerunner’.9 In the particular context of Dutch history (as opposed to, e.g., the history of Arminianism in the context of the Church of England), Arminianism was associated with an Erasmian emphasis on tolerance, as professed by such Remonstrants as Johannes Uytenbogaert, Hugo Grotius, Simon Episcopius, Philippus van Limborch, Estienne de Courcelles, and Jean Le Clerc, and with republican sentiments against the centralist politics and royal aspirations of the Orange stadholders.

7 Casaubon to Scaliger, 19 October 1607, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 7, 324–5. 8 Scaliger to Casaubon, 19 November 1607, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 7, 353–4, ll. 33–5: ‘Doctissimus vir, summus philosophus, praestantissimus theologus offensionem collega rum suorum incurrit, quod libere quod sentit super quibusdam capitibus nondum responderit.’ 9 Stanglin, ‘Arminius and Arminianism’, 18. 56 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

Most studies of Arminius are concerned with systematic theology. The context of Arminius’s thought, if given, usually consists of other dogmatic texts; that is, these studies offer internal-theological, rather than historical, context ualization. Keith Stanglin, by contrast, has provided an account of the historical academic context in which Arminius operated, but he has also posed the intriguing question of how Arminius compared with his most proximate contemporaries and colleagues.10 One figure of comparison who readily offers himself is Scaliger. Clemens Bruehl thought that Scaliger was an open-minded Calvinist who loathed theological-confessional coercion, a conclusion based on evidence both social—Scaliger’s friendships with Oldenbarnevelt and Arminius (and a one-sided discussion of Scaliger’s opinion of Gomarus)—and scholarly, cen- tring on Scaliger’s affirmation that religious discord was rooted in ignorance of grammar. François Laplanche followed Bruehl in his assumption that the Arminians would have appreciated Scaliger’s scholarly frankness.11 It may indeed have been this freedom of expression rather than Scaliger’s philological methods that appealed to Arminians. Aaron Katchen argued that the Arminians were to be found among the elite and their Gomarist adversaries among the ordinary people. He suggested that Arminians had a stronger sense of cultural and historical context than did the Gomarists, and that Arminians were therefore more prone to hold the humanist principle of ad fontes.12 Was this indeed the case? To answer that question, we need to know to what extent critico- linguistico-historical philology affected Arminius’s methods. In examining this question, we will look at Arminius’s theological disputations and his correspondence.

10 Stanglin, Arminius on the Assurance; Stanglin, ‘Arminius and Arminianism’, 23. 11 Laplanche, L’é c r i t u r e , 97; Bruehl, ‘Josef Justus Scaliger,’ 47–50, notably 47: ‘[W]enn man bisher vermeint hat, daß “durch Episcopius und Hugo Grotius der Arminianismus zu allen Kräften der größten philologischen und staatswissenschaftlichen Zeit der Niederlande in Beziehung trat” [Dilthey], so vergaß man, daß zuvor schon umgekehrt “die größte Philologie” in Kontakt mit Arminius selber getreten war—durch Scaliger. Als dieser 1593 nach Leiden kam, bildeten die später richtiger Remonstranten genannten nur eine kleine Schar, deren Glaubensbewegung noch in den ersten Anfängen jener Entwicklung stand, die schließlich zu den auch heute geltenden Kennzeichen der “Remonstrantische Broederschap” führte: “Biblisches, undogmatisches, praktisches Christentum; Betonung der universalen Liebe Gottes mehr als der Sünde und der Erlösung; Toleranz, Abneigung gegen Klerikalismus und Konfessionsdwang”; treffender könnte man auch Scaligers “Religion” auf Grund aller seiner eigenen Äußerungen nicht definieren, der, in vielfältiger, enger Berührung mit der jungen Gruppe verbunden, als weithin berühmter älterer Gelehrter fast zwangsweise auch deren gerade entstehenden Ideen seinen Stempel aufdrücken mußte.’ Bruehl then points at Scaliger’s contacts with Oldenbarnevelt and Grotius, and the fact that he knew Johannes Uytenbogaert and the young Simon Episcopius. Above all, Bruehl states, he was intimately acquainted with Arminius. Apart from the impossibil- ity of proving any intimacy in Scaliger’s friendship with Arminius, one should point out that he was on very friendly terms with Gomarus. More importantly, nowhere does Scaliger speak of the need for an undogmatic, practical, and tolerant Christianity or a stress on God’s love rather than his punishment of sins. 12 Katchen, Christian Hebraists, 26. Biblical Philology: Nothing Radical (1609–1619) 57

Like his orthodox colleagues, Arminius inculcated into his students the basic hermeneutical principle of the perspicuity, self-evidence, perfection, and divinity of the biblical text, which was sufficient to explain the nature of God and Christ, both in the way it treated its contents and from its objective of proclaiming the glory of God and man’s salvation.13 But more so than his orthodox Calvinist adversaries, Arminius subscribed to the idea of sola scriptura: he took the self-evidence of Scripture as a norm to examine the Belgic Confession and the Heidelberg Catechism, not the other way around. This war- ranted a certain measure of freedom with regard to the authority of confessions formulated by sixteenth-century reformists. The Counter-Remonstrant opponent Festus Hommius argued that the Remonstrants seemed to teach ‘that the prophets and apostles who wrote Holy Scripture not always and everywhere acted by the Holy Spirit but in some things could err’. One of the more salient— and overlooked—consequences of the Arminian controversy is that it compelled Calvinist orthodoxy to put greater emphasis on the purity of the text and, above all, its self-evident character.14 Arminius presided over a large number of disputations, of which sixty-one have survived.15 Many of these are explicitly anti-Catholic, with Bellarmine singled out as the main target.16 Biblical philology is almost entirely absent. I will discuss the very few examples from which it may be gathered that Arminius was an accomplished scholar of Greek and Hebrew. Arminius presided over three disputations in 1603, and twelve the following year. Only two of these regarded the subjects discussed above in greater detail: both dealt with the sufficiency and perfection of Holy Scripture against human traditions that came after the time of the apostles.17 The study of Scripture is encouraged through the Johannine injunction ‘Scrutamini scripturas’ (5:39), which since the publication in 1475 of the Scrutinium scripturarum of Paul of Burgos (a converted Jew) had been associated with the study of the Talmud in explaining the literal meaning of the Hebrew Bible.18 The King James Bible referred to it in 1611 as a command,19 and John Selden seems to have associated it with religious individualism.20 For Arminius, it meant that tradition was not necessary for the salvation of the Church. Like his colleagues, Arminius rejects

13 Arminius, Oratio tertia de certitudine, 86–113 (95–7). Unlike the orthodox Calvinists, Arminius thought that the texts of the Belgic Confession and the Heidelberg Catechism ought to be changed via deliberations at a national synod. 14 Van den Belt, ‘Autopistia’, 166–8 (quotation on 167). 15 Stanglin, The Missing Disputations, 1; see also Stanglin, Arminius on the Assurance, 43. 16 See, e.g., Stanglin, The Missing Disputations, 158, 160, 345, and 433–7. 17 Arminius, Theses theologicae De sufficientia. 18 Pablo of Burgos, Dialogus Pauli et Sauli contra Judaeos. 19 King James Bible; the translators write in their letter to the reader, ‘The Scriptures we are commanded to search. Joh. 5.39. Esa. 8.20. They are commended that searched & studied them.’ 20 Selden, Table Talk, 6, s.v. ‘Bible, Scripture’, no. 4: ‘Scrutamini scripturas. These two words have undone the world. Because Christ spake it to his disciplines, therefore we must all, Men, Women and Children, read and interpret the Scripture.’ 58 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic the Latin Vulgate, but, interestingly, he defends the principal utility of vernacular translations: everyone should read for himself (Arminius would have fully endorsed the project of the States Translation).21 As befitted a good Protestant, Arminius declared that the Bible was the starting point for interpretation. Pointing out that the word fides (faith) is used in fifteen different senses in the Bible, he reviews each meaning, with the corresponding biblical verses listed in the margin.22 Likewise, he notes that the adjective in the phrase ‘original sin’ is to be found nowhere in the Bible, nor is it acknowledged by any of the Church Fathers before Augustine.23 Elsewhere, he notices the Hebraizing way in which Paul used the verb δικαιοῦν (to justify).24 This type of close reading of the Greek text is continued later in the disputation, which takes into account Greek translations of Hebrew vocabulary.25 Like Scaliger, but also like Erasmus, Castellio, and Beza,26 Arminius showed insight into the Hebrew influences of New Testament Greek. Arminius gives evidence of his linguistic abilities in a discussion of Romans 7:22–23.27 Paul’s Epistle to the Romans, in particular its chapters 7, 8, and 9, was hotly debated, for it contained some of the crucial passages regarding election, good works, and predestination.28 Arminius based his theological interpretation that the human inclination to sin is stronger than the inner sense of God’s righteousness on a linguistic analysis of the Greek particles.29 Moving ahead, again a theological argument is based on scrutiny of a Greek term: neither the phrase ‘the inward man’ (τὸν ἔσω ἄνθρωπον; understood ex etymo, i.e., according to the real meaning), nor the usage of this expression elsewhere in the Bible (2 Corinthians 4:16 and Ephesians 3:16–17), give any support for

21 Arminius, De verbo Dei scripto, 1609, thesis XXIII, in Stanglin, The Missing Disputations, 161. 22 Arminius, Theses theologicae de fide, 1605, thesis I, in Stanglin, The Missing Disputations, 279–80. 23 Arminius, Theses theologicae de peccato ‘originali,’ 1603, thesis II, in Stanglin, The Missing Disputations, 213. 24 Arminius, Disputationum theologicarum vigesima-quarta, De iustificatione hominis coram Deo per solam fidem, 1603, thesis V, in Stanglin, The Missing Disputations, 306. 25 Arminius, Disputationum theologicarum vigesima-quarta, De iustificatione hominis coram Deo per solam fidem, 1603, theses XIII–XVI, XXIII, and XXXIV, in Stanglin, The Missing Disputations, 309–10, 313, and 319. 26 De Jonge, De bestudering, 35. 27 Arminius, De vero et genuino sensu, 1612, 60–90. 28 Sebastian Castellio’s commentary on Romans 9 provided much ammunition in 1612 and 1613 (see Rogge, Beschrijvende catalogus, vol. 1:1, 42–3); Socinus’s treatise on Romans 7 was reprinted in 1612: Socinus, De loco Pauli. Works by others on Romans, mostly disputations and sermons, appeared regularly, often printed much later than delivered: Barentsz, Neghen predicatien, 1612; Broecker, Disputatie vant rechte verstant, 1613; Pollio, Der leecken uvegh-wĳser, 1622; Streso, Fundamenta sanctitatis, 1659; Streso, Fundamenta patientiae, 1641; Episcopius, Paraphrasis, 1644; Uytenbogaert, Korte verklaringe, 1694. 29 Arminius, De vero et genuino sensu, 61: ‘Pars antecedens istius axiomatis, et minus praecipua continetur vers. 22. consequens et principalis vers. 23. . . . Particulae enim quidem, etsi, quanquam, quum, notant antecedentem et minus praecipuam axiomatis partem; particulae autem, sed, verum, tamen, tum, notant consequentem et principalem.’ Biblical Philology: Nothing Radical (1609–1619) 59

Catholics who ascribe to man the possibility of regeneration and salvation by his own choice to delight in God’s law. In this particular case, Arminius argues that the disjunctive particles in two parallel passages (etiamsi . . . tamen as Arminius translates from the Greek, but he does not cite the Greek: ἀλλ’ εἰ . . . ἀλλ’) point in both cases towards an interpretation of the inward and the outward man as two sides of the same individual, otherwise the passages would make little sense. Only once does Arminius cite a Greek participle, sticking to Latin translations and interpretations throughout.30 Discussions of the meaning of Hebrew are also scarce. In his ‘Disputation no. 67 on the Worship of God in General’, Arminius reviews the Hebrew terms used to indicate the worship to be rendered to God and the fear of God: avodah and yirah elohim. Arminius presents nine equivalents in Greek and five equivalents in Latin.31 Overall, however, such linguistic-historical bits of research appear rarely in Arminius’s works. Judging from the Opera theologica, one would be inclined to assume that Arminius never engaged in antiquarian discussions and lacked the Hebrew skills of Junius and Gomarus.32 Arminius appears to have been primarily a theological logician, a dialectical thinker of Protestant scholastics. This impression would appear to be confirmed when one looks at Arminius’s correspondence, which abounds with theological arguments and scholastic jargon.33 However, the exchange of letters with Johannes Drusius Sr show a different side of Arminius, who was well aware of biblical criticism, at least in the sense of linguistic-historical criticism. Here, Arminius emphasizes the necessity of having a profound knowledge of Greek and Hebrew. As will become clear, the way Arminius phrases this conviction is reminiscent not so much of the Protestant principle of sola scriptura, but rather of the humanist dictum ad fontes. In the letters, Arminius bestows abundant praise on Drusius, whose works he consistently claims to be of paramount importance for theologians, who all too often care nothing about things relating to the phraseology of the sacred style of speech, the secure sense of Scripture, the antiquities of the early church of the Jews and its rituals, habits, customs in sacred as well as in civil matters. This is all the more surprising as the world is crowded with powerful and learned people who highly

30 Arminius, De vero et genuino sensu, 65. 31 Arminius, ‘Thesis sexagesimaseptima De cultu Dei in universum’, second page numbering, ,cultus et timor Dei: Graece εὐσέβεια, θεοσέβεια, θρησκεία יראה אלוהים et ﬠבודה Apud Hebraeos‘ :162 λατρεία, δουλεία, θεραπεία, τιμὴ, ϕόβος, ἀγάπη τοῦ θεοῦ; apud Latinos pietas, cultus seu cultura Dei, veneratio, honos, observantia.’ See Arminius, Works, vol. 2, 1986, 91. 32 Junius published a Grammatica Hebraeae linguae, 1580, reprinted in 1590 and 1596. For Gomarus, see the following pages. 33 See Dekker, Rijker dan Midas; see also, for example, his letter to Johannes Uytenbogaert, in Praestantium ac eruditorum virorum epistolae, 88a–b, no. 44. 60 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

value the smallest bits of information which they think may contribute even the slightest piece of evidence to our knowledge of Roman and Greek histories and languages. But the historical and antiquarian background of the New Testament requires new skills, ‘which only few people can handle with profit and satisfaction, due to ignorance of these oriental languages’.34 Having read and reread Drusius’s commentary on Psalm 2, Arminius writes of the necessity to familiarize oneself with the meanings of individual Hebrew words and phrases: without such knowledge, one can have no proper understanding of what faith actually is, for it is grounded in the authority of God speaking his Word.35 He encourages Drusius to carry on his work and to ignore negative responses: his labours were absolutely indispensable to a proper pursuit of theology.36 Small wonder that Arminius was horrified to find that the typesetters made a mess out of Drusius’s commentary on Hosea, as he wrote in dismay to Uytenbogaert—although Drusius himself was as much to blame for the regrettable state of the text, as his handwriting was notoriously difficult to decipher.37 In one letter, Arminius questions Drusius about a number of Old Testament passages, taking into account the Aramaic Targumim as well as contemporary Latin translations by Pagnini and Immanuel Tremellius.38 From another letter, written only a month later, it appears that the two men had discussed the use of the Hebrew divine name Elohim over dinner. Drusius treats a passage from Malachi 3:17, and again he discusses Hebrew prepositions.39 In 1604, Arminius got wind of the Franeker discussion over the name of the Almighty, which divided the Frisian faculty into what were labelled ‘Jehovist’ and ‘Elohist’ factions.40 In Arminius’s longest extant letter to Drusius, he reacts to Drusius’s response to Nicolaus Serarius in the dispute that Drusius, in close cooperation with Scaliger, fought against Serarius over the identity of the ancient sect of the Hasidaeans.41 Of course, Arminius sides with Drusius against Serarius,

34 Arminius to Drusius, 23 December 1597, in Praestantium ac eruditorum virorum epistolae, 33a–b, no. 18. 35 Arminius to Drusius, 12 June 1597, in Praestantium ac eruditorum virorum epistolae, 38a, no. 22. 36 Arminius to Drusius, 22 May 1599, and dd. 29 March 1603, in Praestantium ac eruditorum virorum epistolae, 98a, no. 47, and 116a–b, no. 61, respectively. 37 Arminius to Johannes Uytenbogaert, 27 March 1603, in Praestantium ac eruditorum virorum epistolae, 99a–b, no. 48. For the bad reputation of Drusius’s handwriting, see Secunda Scaligerana, 300, s.v. ‘Drusius’. 38 Arminius to Drusius, 9 March 1595, in Praestantium ac eruditorum virorum epistolae, 27a–28a, no. 13. 39 Arminius to Drusius, 12 April 1595, in Praestantium ac eruditorum virorum epistolae, 28b, no. 14. 40 Arminius to Drusius, 11 Sepember 1604, in Praestantium ac eruditorum virorum epistolae, 141a, no. 73. 41 Drusius’s response to Serarius’s Trihaeresion (Mainz, 1604) appeared in 1605, accompanied by Scaliger’s I. Drusii responsio ad Serarium de tribus setis Iudaeorum. Accessit I. Scaligeri Elenchus Trihaeresii N. Serarii, Franeker, 1605. On the controversy, see Schmidt, ‘The Hasideans’. Biblical Philology: Nothing Radical (1609–1619) 61 whom they thought a bad Hebraist. Arminius in particular admires Drusius’s independent spirit and his confidence in standing up to what in the preceding four decades had become traditions in their own right within Calvinism; the Confessions and the Catechism, although written by learned men, were being dealt with as if they were traditions by which Scripture ought to be measured.42 ‘Where will we end up if right from the start of the Reformation we relapse into popish behaviour?’43 Scaliger had privately condemned Drusius’s refusal to subscribe to the Belgic Confession, but it is not at all certain that Scaliger was correct in assuming that Drusius refused to sign the Confession.44 Judging from Arminius’s public profile as evinced by the disputations, Bruehl’s assumption that Arminius and Scaliger were kindred spirits in the field of philology lacks proof. A glance at his private correspondence warns us that Arminius was at least passively interested in matters of philology. But Arminius was a professor of theology, and unlike his adversary Gomarus, he published little extracurricular work; that is to say, he limited his published writings to the domain of theology. The problem with Drusius, as we will see below, was that he transgressed the boundaries of philology (the domain of the Arts Faculty) and touched upon theological matters, the bailiwick of the Faculty of Theology. The kinship that Bruehl assumed between Scaligerian philology and Arminian theology may have been a product only of hindsight, resulting from a recognition that Remonstrant biblical philologists such as Grotius, Courcelles, and Le Clerc worked in the philological tradition of Scaliger—an indebtedness which, it should be noted, few of these Remonstrants explicitly acknowledged. None of them ever claimed Scaliger as an Arminian. Another reason might be the inspiration that Remonstrants were said to have taken from Socinus, an accomplished heterodox critic, whose work on the authority of the sacred Scripture stood in the tradition of Lorenzo Valla.45 Remonstrants were already associated with Socinianism in the second decade of the seventeenth century, and the accusation of Socianism, levelled by orthodox theologians, has remained a standard allegation ever since, and is not entirely groundless. Wilhelm Dilthey, two centuries later, was perhaps the most influential thinker to establish the link between Socinianism and Remonstrantism, albeit on the

42 Arminius to Drusius, 6 April 1608, in Praestantium et eruditorum virorum epistolae, 210b, no. 115. 43 Arminius to Drusius, 6 April 1608, in Praestantium et eruditorum virorum epistolae, 210b, no. 115: ‘Quo tandem abibimus, si sub initium Reformationis ad pontificium agendi morem relabimur?’ 44 Secunda Scaligerana, 301, s.v. ‘Drusius’. See Korteweg, De nieuwtestamentische commentaren van Johannes Drusius, 41–2. 45 Daugirdas, ‘The Biblical Hermeneutics’, 92. See Socinus’sDe sacrae scripturae auctoritate of 1588. Incidentally, according to Scaliger (Secunda Scaligerana, 575, s.v. ‘Socinus’) ‘Faustus Socinus abnegavit sua dogmata, Genevam vocatus Lugduno, ante annos 40.’ 62 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic basis of hermeneutical rationalism rather than philological criticism.46 But an early Arminian such as Johannes Uytenbogaert showed no penchant for biblical philology, despite his positive reception of Socinus’s hermeneutical principle of relating the authority of Scripture to historical reliability.47 (Courcelles and Van Limborch subscribed to this type of rationalism and drew up a framework to apply the theory.48) The role of philology was more prominent in the work of the Remonstrant leader Simon Episcopius. He touched upon it in one of the six sermons that he delivered in 1618 (with sequels delivered as late as 1632, 1633, and 1634). The anonymous author of the preface to a published version states that we need to understand ‘the occasion of times and persons to whom Holy Writ speaks’, and a historical explanation about the identity, rituals, and clothing of the Pharisees in a sermon on Matthew 5:20 is a rather rare occasion in these moral sermons in which Episcopius uses historical contextualization as an exegetical technique.49 More prominent is his biblical scholarship in his Notae breves in Matthaeum, his Lectiones sacrae on the books of 1 John and Revelation.50 But the inspiration, scope, and impact of his biblical scholarship remains to be assessed. The question also remains what Scaliger meant when he described Arminius as a ‘vir maximus’.51 Scaliger’s compliment dates from the period 1603–1606, when Arminius had already taken up his chair in Leiden. He himself never commented on Arminius’s thought, but it is likely he was aware of Arminius’s reservations towards supralapsarian predestination and reprobation. We should not read too much into the compliment.52 The Scaligerana are full of seemingly contradictory statements about people. Perhaps Scaliger’s comments reflected a fair assessment of people’s good and bad sides alike. A ‘vir maximus’ can mean many things, but we should not assume that Scaliger apparently thought Arminius an excellent biblical philologist. He might equally have been thinking of Arminius as a good theologian and a fine man. There is nothing specifically Arminian or un-Calvinist about Arminius’s acknowledgement of the importance of biblical philology. This is evinced by Franciscus Gomarus, who gave ample proof of his philological skills in biblical commentaries that were unrelated to the discussions of the timing and scope of Christ’s redemptive powers.

46 Daugirdas, ‘The Biblical Hermeneutics,’ 89–90. 47 Daugirdas, ‘The Biblical Hermeneutics,’ 101. 48 Daugirdas, ‘The Biblical Hermeneutics,’ 111–13. 49 Episcopius, Uytlegginge, 297–298. 50 See Episcopius, Operum theologicorum pars altera, 1–169, 173–581, and De Jonge, De bestudering, 55. 51 Secunda Scaligerana, 33. 52 Stanglin, Arminius on the Assurance, 29–30, contrasts Scaliger’s disapproval of Gomarus’s scholarship with his opinion of Arminius as a ‘vir maximus’, suggesting that Scaliger made these opinions known, which ‘could not have helped the situation’. Scaliger, however, voiced these opinions at his dinner table in the presence of two French students, who noted them down but never published them. There is no indication that Scaliger’s remarks as recorded in theScaligerana were disseminated; see the remarks on the confidentiality of the Scaligerana in chapter 1. Biblical Philology: Nothing Radical (1609–1619) 63

2.4. FRANCISCUS GOMARUS: THE BIBLICAL PHILOLOGIST

If Arminius has been read too often through the prism of later Remonstrants such as Uytenbogaert, Grotius, Episcopius, Courcelles, and Van Limborch, and hence associated with a tradition of biblical philology in which he hardly ever took part, Gomarus has primarily been seen, with hindsight, as Arminius’s adversary. This perspective has caused a large part of his work to be obscured and has obfuscated the fact that Gomarus was not only a theologian but also a philologist, and much more of a philologist than Arminius was. In fact, Gomarus’s philology was deeply influenced by Theodorus Beza and Joseph Scaliger. When he was twenty-seven years old, Gomarus addressed an audacious letter to Beza, seeking permission to publish an improved edition of Beza’s New Testament, emending its errors.53 Gomarus never published this corrected version of Beza’s edition,54 but he was not the first to have criticized Beza’s edition: Scaliger had done so in his letters at least twice, in 1584 and 1586.55 If Beza occasionally bent the biblical text to fit his theological preconceptions,56 Gomarus did precisely the opposite, at least according to the three students of his who posthumously edited his Opera. He always ‘adjusts his analysis to the [biblical] text, does not distort the text to fit a preconceptualized analysis’. He also exposed many a saying in the Sacred Text in other ways than had been done by interpreters, . . . on the basis of the proper character of words and phrases, their usage in the Sacred Text, the relation between what precedes and what follows, and by comparison with similar passages.57 Daniel Heinsius was particularly explicit about Gomarus’s linguistic skills: Gomarus knew Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek. He also learned ‘from the Jews the language of the Rabbis and all other extant Jewish mysteries’. Moreover, he was well acquainted with the Fathers, to whom he ascribed important authority.58 Heinsius admired Gomarus for his accuracy in dealing with controversies

53 Gomarus (Frankfurt) to Beza [Geneva], 12 June 1590, in Beza, Correspondance, vol. 31, no. 2113, 144–6. 54 Beza, Correspondance, vol. 31, 145, n. 4; Van Itterzon, Franciscus Gomarus, 36–7. According to Van Belzen and Post, Vroom: vurig en vreedzaam: het leven van Franciscus Gomarus, 32, Gomarus received a positive reply from Beza, but I have found no evidence for such a response. 55 De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 77. 56 Krans, Beyond What Is Written, 330–2. 57 Gomarus, Opera, 1644, edited by Johannes Vereem, Adolphus Sibelius, and Martinus Ubbenius, sig. *3v: ‘Analysin enim ad textum accomodat, non textum ad praeconceptam analysin detorquet. . . . Non pauca etiam S[acrae] Scripturae dicta aliter quam ab interpretibus factum est, exposuit. [Veritatem] ex . . . vocum et phrasium proprietate, et in S[acris] literis usu, anteceden- tium et consequentium connexione, locorum similium comparatione deducit.’ 58 Heinsius to Johannes Vereem, Adolphus Sibelius, and Martinus Ubbenius, 7 October 1643, in Gomarus, Opera, sig. 5r–v: ‘. . . etiam Rabbinicam [linguam] ac caetera quae extant Iudaeorum alibi arcana, a Iudaeis hausit. . . . Restabant Patrum scripta: quos Latinos pariter ac Graecos, utriusque linguae peritissimus, familiares habuit. In eorum lectione sic versari solitus, ut plurimum 64 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic and the interpretation of God’s Word, because Gomarus was versed in many fields of knowledge (scientiae) and in languages (linguae). Heinsius was proud that Gomarus, not long before he died in 1641, had praised his Sacrae exercitationes (1639). In this work (see below, chapter 4) Heinsius frequently criticized Beza’s translation, and in 1643 he seized the opportunity to bolster his position with the posthumous support of Gomarus for his mild treatment of Beza.59 Significantly, Heinsius pointed out that Joseph Scaliger had possessed a high opinion of Gomarus, something ‘which very few people know’.60 Scaliger himself had indeed been favourably disposed towards Gomarus, although one would not think so judging from the Scaligerana, where Scaliger sneers that Gomarus thought himself the most learned theologian of his time. Scaliger associated Gomarus with Ramism, due to the analytical talents that Scaliger ascribed to him. It is an ambiguous compliment, for Scaliger opposed Ramism.61 Scaliger, furthermore, was scathing about Gomarus’s knowledge of chronology,62 perhaps because Gomarus was married to a sister of the third wife of Franciscus Junius, whom Scaliger could not stand. Yet Scaliger was not always as vituperative towards Gomarus as the Scaligerana would suggest. Scaliger knew that Gomarus was interested in chronology. Gomarus acted as a middleman between Scaliger and David Pareus, a Calvinist theologian from Heidelberg who had criticized Scaliger’s De emendatione temporum.63 Scaliger and Gomarus publicly displayed signs of friendship in Scaliger’s controversy with Pareus, with Gomarus editing Scaliger’s Elenchus primae Orationis parei (1607) and prefacing it with a dedicatory letter to Johannes de Laet (later an orthodox Calvinist adversary of Hugo Grotius), in which he praised Scaliger.64 There was no confessional need for Gomarus and Scaliger to assume a united front against their co-religionist in Heidelberg, so the bonds between the two Leiden scholars cannot be explained merely by strategic considerations. Such antiquitati merito tribueret, aetates autem caeteras ad primam, hanc et caeteras, ad veritatem ipsam, hoc est, verbi Dei normam, cum judicio referret. Patres enim nisi veritatis essent filii, ne Patres quidem iudicabat.’ 59 Heinsius to Johannes Vereem, Adolphus Sibelius, and Martinus Ubbenius, 7 October 1643, in Gomarus, Opera, sig. *5v. 60 Heinsius to Johannes Vereem, Adolphus Sibelius, and Martinus Ubbenius, 7 October 1643, in Gomarus, Opera, sig. *5v: ‘Quid de summa viri huius eruditione magnus olim iudicaret Scaliger, paucissimi nunc sciunt.’ 61 His father, Julius Caesar Scaliger, had been a great Aristotelian and anti-Ramist, and Scaliger inherited his misgivings, as is clear from his efforts to stop the introduction of Ramist methods into the curriculum of Leiden University, one of the very few extant pieces of evidence showing Scaliger’s attempted interference with the teaching affairs of the university. See Scaliger to Janus Dousa, 25 March 1598, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 3, 103–5. 62 Secunda Scaligerana, 352, s.v. ‘Gomarus’. 63 Scaliger to Sethus Calvisius, 12 March 1607, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 7, 90–1, ll. 3–7; Scaliger to Casaubon, 9 June 1608, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 7, 541–2, ll. 31–5. 64 Gomarus to Johannes de Laet, 10 January 1607, in Scaliger, Elenchus utriusque Orationis Parei, sig. A2r–v, where Gomarus stressed Scaliger’s piety, learning, and candor (pietas, doctrina, and candor), and illustrated each of these characteristics with discussions of Scaliger’s exemplary life. Biblical Philology: Nothing Radical (1609–1619) 65 considerations, in any case, had never stopped Scaliger from criticizing fellow Calvinists. Further evidence of Scaliger’s reverence towards Gomarus’s scholarly abilities is provided by the French version of Scaliger’s will. Scaliger entrusted the task of re-editing his Thesaurus temporum of 1606 to Gomarus. Scaliger not only set the bar for his own work extremely high; he could also be sarcastic towards those who failed to meet his standards. In a previous version of his will, Scaliger had left this task to Heinsius, but the reason Scaliger now turned to Gomarus may have had something to do with the already pretty heavy workload which Scaliger requested of Heinsius, which included the re-editing of Scaliger’s editions of Manilius and Catullus and his father’s commentary on Aristotle’s History of Animals. And Gomarus was already familiar with chronology, because of his edition of Scaliger’s chronological treatise against Pareus.65 In any case, Scaliger must have had a high opinion of Gomarus’s scholarly abilities. Typically, this would have included vast erudition based on expert knowledge of source texts, linguistic skills (profound knowledge of Hebrew, and perhaps even some Arabic), an eye for historical context, and an interest in antiquarian issues, such as rituals and calendars. Was Scaliger’s trust in Gomarus justified? Gomarus did make a serious, although unsuccessful, attempt in 1631–1632 to have the second edition of Scaliger’s Thesaurus temporum published by the press of Isaac Commelin in Leiden.66 But Gomarus published philological work of his own as well. In 1627, he produced a treatise on the genealogy of Christ, together with a small treatise on the question of the language in which the gospel of Matthew had been written. These works reflected a typically philological approach towards the Bible, emphasizing realia and linguistics, and there can hardly be any doubt that Gomarus was in both cases inspired by Scaliger. Scaliger had noted at his dinner table between 1603 and 1606 that the discrepancy of the genealogies of Jesus in Matthew 1 and Luke 3 posed ‘a large difficulty’, which could be explained only by supposing that Matthew 1 was an early Christian interpolation.67 And as we saw in chapter 1, Scaliger ridiculed the idea that the Hebrew texts printed by Sebastian Münster and Johannes Quinquarboreus represented an original Hebrew Matthew. The question of the Hebrew origin of Matthew occupied many of the biblical philologists of Gomarus’s generation. We will also briefly discuss Gomarus’s treatise on Hebrew poetics. Here, too, Scaliger’s shadow loomed large. In his work on Matthew, Gomarus adduces historical and linguistic arguments against a Hebrew origin for Matthew’s gospel. As we have seen above, in 1537, Münster had published a Hebrew version of Matthew, which Quinquarboreus in 1551 believed to be the original version of Matthew. Gomarus first discussed

65 De Jonge, ‘The Latin Testament’, 251. 66 Van Itterzon, Franciscus Gomarus, 270–1. 67 Secunda Scaligerana, 340, s.v. ‘Genealogie’; De Jonge, De bestudering, 56. 66 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic the arguments in favour of this Hebrew origin. He quoted the testimonies of the Fathers who, admittedly, held that Matthew had been written in Hebrew.68 He acknowledged that at some point a version of the gospel in Hebrew had been in circulation. This is the gospel that Jerome repeatedly claimed to have had translated into Greek and into Latin. In opposition, Gomarus examined the testimonies against the Hebrew origin of the Gospel.69 More importantly, Gomarus adduced arguments from the text of the gospel itself and from the testimonies of the Church Fathers. Had Matthew written in Hebrew, he would not have explained ‘Emmanuel’ and ‘Eli, eli, lama sabachthani’ in chapters 1 and 27, respectively: Matthew 1:23: Emmanuel, which means God with us Matthew 27:46: Eli, eli, lama sabachthani, which is: My god, my god, why hast thou forsaken me?70 Now, against Gomarus’s reasoning, some would point out that this must be an interpolation added by the translator, just as the Septuagint and the Vulgate add translations of proper names (in 1 Samuel 7:12 and Genesis 35:18, respectively). But the Greek Matthew interpolates not a name, but an entire phrase. A translator would have had no reason to leave one Hebrew phrase intact and then translate it into Greek: he would simply have translated it into Greek, just as he translated all the other Hebrew into Greek. A fatal failure in Gomarus’s reasoning is, of course, that ‘Eli, eli, lama sabachthani’ was not Hebrew at all, but Aramaic, something which he doubtless knew and must therefore have consciously ignored. Those in favour of a Hebrew origin of Matthew would simply argue that had Jesus’s last words in Aramaic been quoted in the Hebrew text and then translated into Hebrew for readers unfamiliar with Aramaic, the Greek gospel might simply have translated the Hebrew, leaving the Aramaic as it was, just as the purported Hebrew gospel had done. This problem is not dealt with by Gomarus. Instead, he goes on to deconstruct the testimonies of some of the Church Fathers, who admitted to relying on hearsay, for they hardly knew Hebrew themselves and could scarcely be considered authoritative in judging the matter. This criticism notwithstanding, Gomarus could not deny the authority of all the evidence for the existence of a Hebrew version of Matthew in the time of Eusebius (early fourth century ad). This, however, was not the Matthew as

68 Papias, Irenaeus, Origen, Eusebius, Epihanius, Athanasius, Chrysostom, Jerome, and Theophylactus. See Gomarus, Opera, 313. 69 Gomarus, Opera, 313. 70 Gomarus, Opera, 314 refers to Matthew 26 instead of Matthew 27 (i.e., 27:46). Likewise it refers to Genesis 35:38 instead of 35:18; perhaps these were transcription mistakes by the three editors of Gomarus’s works, who admit in their preface (sig. *3v) that Gomarus’s handwriting was very hard to decipher. It is odd, nevertheless, that three mature students of theology would refer to the wrong chapter in Matthew and to a non-existent verse number in Genesis. Biblical Philology: Nothing Radical (1609–1619) 67 edited by Münster and Quinquarboreus, but a gospel concocted from the other gospels. According to Eusebius (who says in Historia ecclesiastica 3.39 that he relied on Papias, whose work is lost), this gospel contained the story of the woman taken in adultery. This episode, not in Matthew, is found only at John 7:53–8:11. Hence, the Hebrew gospel that had once been in circulation and was attributed by some to Matthew, was not Matthew’s at all.71 Even Jerome, Gomarus points out, had said that this Hebrew gospel was written ‘after the apostles and, according to many, after Matthew’.72 In his conclusion, Gomarus praises the work of Münster and Jean Mercier, who both translated the existing Hebrew gospel into Latin, but, he repeats, this gospel was itself a retro-translation made by Jews from the Greek and Latin gospels.73 Gomarus ends by bestowing lavish praise on Mercier, from whom he also seems to have borrowed some of his main arguments. Gomarus does not seem to distinguish between this Hebrew Matthew and another text, the Gospel according to the Hebrews, of which only fragments survive via its quotation by Church Fathers. His argument concerning the translation of ‘Eli, eli’ also founders. But Gomarus wielded the tools of the critical philologist, including those of the Hebraist. He researched the interdependence of early witnesses. He placed quotations in their contexts to assess their validity. He tried to imagine how an early Greek translator would have approached a Hebrew text, comparing the practices of translations from Hebrew into Greek (Septuagint) and from Hebrew into Latin (Vulgate). All this paints an entirely different portrait of Gomarus than the familiar image of a staunchly orthodox theologian. We meet a Gomarus who is not busy pursuing a particular theological argument or a dogmatic agenda. Admittedly, he did not propose any emendations to the biblical text, and his arguments were theologically neutral.

71 The authenticity of this famous pericope adulterae in John would be the subject of debate in later times. As we will see in chapters 3 and 5, the translators of the States’ Translation and Grotius would keep the pericope in the text without further comment. Ludovicus de Dieu used a Syriac manuscript, borrowed in 1630 from James Ussher, for his discussion of the pericope (De Jonge, De bestudering, 51). Heinsius touched upon it in the preface to his Sacrae exercitationes, but passed over it in silence in that book’s text proper. Only when asked to by Simonds d’Ewes did he later explain, in a letter, that the pericope was indeed not present in Nonnus and in the Syriac version; and he conceded it was rejected by Chrysostom, who disposed of the best manuscripts, and Theophylactus (see below, chapter 4). Courcelles, who kept it in his edition of the New Testament, pointed out in his apparatus that the pericope was ‘missing in many old manuscripts, as well as in the Syriac translation’. Courcelles, Novum Testamentum, ad loc.: ‘53 et seqq. versus 53 cap. 7 una cum primis undecim cap. 8 desunt in multis veteribus codicibus; et in Syriaca versione.’ 72 Jerome, Dialogus adversus Pelagiones, 99 : ‘secundum apostolos . . . et, ut plerique autumant, secundum Matthaeum.’ 73 Münster, Evangelium secundum Matthaeum, re-edited by Quinquarboreus in 1551. Gomarus castigated Johannes Quinquarboreus for believing the Hebrew version to be the original version of Matthew’s gospel. Mercier’s edition is that of Jean du Tillet’s manuscript, which the latter obtained in Italy in 1553: Tilius and Mercerus, Evangelium Matthaei. The British Library now has Casaubon’s copy of this book (shelfmark 01901.a.14.), lavishly annotated and mentioned in Grafton and Weinberg, ‘I have Always Loved the Holy Tongue,’ 108, 339, and 194. 68 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

But by getting involved in the discussion and rehearsing the arguments of those who said the Greek Matthew in everybody’s hands was a translation and not the original version, Gomarus tried to quench a slow-burning fire which threatened to force anyone who relied on Matthew either to take refuge in a Hebrew text or, of course, add the caveat that the Greek text was not the version closest to its source. Gomarus hence confirmed Scaliger’s impression that the text edited by Münster was not the original Hebrew Matthew. Gomarus also wrote a treatise on the art of Hebrew poetry: Davidis Lyra (1637), one of the most important early modern treatises on biblical prosody to have appeared in the Renaissance.74 Once again, the subject had been put on the agenda by Joseph Scaliger. In his Thesaurus temporum, Scaliger argued that the psalms were not metrical, but were infused by a certain poetic style.75 His interpretation was taken up by Louis Cappel in his Observations on the New Lyre of David of 1643, which attacks Gomarus head on.76 Gomarus’s book gives an introduction to the subject and provides examples of so vast an array of metres, based on classical Roman and mainly Greek models, that Israel Baroway called him ‘the scientific archchampion of the classical principle’, and that more recently Kristine Haugen has styled him ‘an entirely legitimate and qualified s c h o l a r ’. 77 Gomarus admired the beauty of the Hebrew psalms and attempted to map their different metres by fleshing out almost each verse in search of a pattern, an ‘infinitely expansible system’.78 This led him to present an astonish- ing variety of metres, which recalled for him the prosody of Pindar and Sophocles. There is hardly a verse that is metrically identical to the preceding one. Gomarus takes his cue from manuals of Greek metrics by Hephaestion (second century ad), book 3 of Diomedes’s Ars grammatica, and the work of one Demetrius Triclinius (or Demetrius of Phaleron). But he also relies on sixteenth-century scholars, such as Aldus Manutius Jr (1547–1597), Jacobus Micyllus (1503–1558), Martin Crusius (1526–1607), Henricus Smetius (1535– 1614), and François Vatable (end of 15th c. - 1547). A profound study of the intricacies of the Hebrew language, the Davidis Lyra establishes Gomarus as an accomplished Hebraist. The youger Buxtorf, Daniel Heinsius, and Constantin L’Empereur all testify to the importance of the treatise. Baroway concluded that its level of detail shows that for Gomarus the Bible was no longer exclusively a repository of divine Law, but now also a revelation of divine beauty.79 The Davidis Lyra reflects Gomarus’s desire, using the linguistic tools of classical philology, to grasp the aesthetics of the psalms. In Cappel’s

74 Baroway, ‘ “The Lyre of David” ’. 75 Haugen, ‘Hebrew Poetry Transformed’, 8. 76 Cappel, Ad novam Davidis lyram animadversiones. See Bregoli, ‘Biblical Poetry’, 177: the eighteenth-century Raffaele Rabeni dates Gomarus’s Davidis Lyra to 1633. See also, more generally, Kugel, The Idea of Biblical Poetry. 77 Baroway, ‘ “The Lyre of David” ’, 119; Haugen, ‘Hebrew Poetry Transformed’, 10. 78 As Haugen called it: ‘Hebrew Poetry Transformed’, 10. 79 Baroway, ‘ “The Lyre of David” ’, 122. Biblical Philology: Nothing Radical (1609–1619) 69 attack on him, ‘we see in a particularly graphic way how northern European Calvinism and its institutions could generate innovative arguments on oppos- ing fronts where theology and philology intersected’.80 We know Gomarus primarily as a theologian because of his role in the Troubles of the Twelve Years’ Truce (in its last years he was professor at Saumur, from 1615 to 1618), in which philology played only a marginal role. Much of Gomarus’s published biblical scholarship in fact comes after the Synod of Dordrecht.81 During the Troubles, Johannes Drusius was the sort of philologist who tried to keep himself aloof from theological discussions and stick to philological research. On the other hand, Hugo Grotius, the champion of the Remonstrants, limited himself to historical contextualization.

2.5. JOHANNES DRUSIUS

No one better epitomized Scaliger’s emphasis on the importance of grammar and vocabulary for the unambiguous interpretation of the Bible than Johannes Drusius the Elder (1550–1616). According to Drusius, the exegete, above all, had to be a linguist. A competent linguist cannot utter heresy, for correct theological understanding proceeds from a correct understanding of Scripture.82 As Drusius put it in the preface to his Twelve Books of Observations from 1584: I confess, however, that the argument I treat is of a grammatical nature. It is impossible, however, to deny that this is absolutely necessary for the teaching of the truth in God’s Church. . . . An erudite man of our age used to say that ‘the theologian was nothing else than a grammaticus of God’s Word’. Although this was not put completely well (for in a theologian we require other things as well), the industry of those who have already laboured in explaining the sacred scriptures proves it partly true.83 The ‘erudite man’, of course, must have been Scaliger. Drusius’s reference came at about the same time that François Vertunien jotted down his friend Scaliger’s

80 Haugen, ‘Hebrew Poetry Transformed’, 12. 81 In 1623, Gomarus acted as praeses over a set of theses, defended in Groningen by one Homerus Wigboldi, on controversial questions in the interpretation of the Epistle of James, but this disputation (not reprinted in Gomarus’s Opera omnia of 1644) has no philological content. The student argued that the author was James the Greater, son of Zebedee (and not the son of Alphaeus—Thesis III), and he defended its divine authority (Thesis IV: explicitly against Cajetanus and Luther, but also, we may add, against Scaliger) and proposed that it was the first of the seven Catholic epistles (Thesis V). But the theses steered clear of textual-critical, linguistic, or historical analyses. See Homerus Wigboldi (resp.), Disputatio theologica de quaestionibus nonnullis in epistolae Iacobi interpretatione controversis . . . sub praesidio . . . Francisci Gomari, [Groningen 1623], Groningen University Library, shelfmark uklu GRON MISC 2, no. 58. 82 Nooijen, Unseren grossen Bekker, 100; Korteweg, ‘De nieuwtestamentische commentaren van Johannes Drusius’, 80. See also De Bruijn, Eerst de waarheid, 84. 83 Cited after Korteweg, ‘De nieuwtestamentische commentaren van Johannes Drusius’, 88. 70 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic dictum, ‘The discords in religion proceed from nothing else than from ignorance of grammar.’84 Drusius had corresponded regularly with Scaliger since at least 1594. As we have seen, in 1605 they had jointly published a treatise against their common enemy Nicolaus Serarius. Although his mother was a Catholic who remained in France when his father converted and fled to England, Drusius’s scholarly bona fides was solid, at first: he was on good terms with such luminaries as Theodorus Beza, Sibrandus Lubbertus, and Johannes Bogerman. He was also an inspiring teacher, who counted Willem Baudartius and Jacobus Revius among his students. Baudartius, who helped pave the way for a new Dutch translation of the Bible with his Weghbereyder or Roadmap to the Improvement of the Dutch Bible (1606), published an extremely popular collection of Apophthegmata Christiana (1605), after the example of Drusius.85 Likewise, Drusius himself created tools for future translators to work with, such as his Annotations on the Entire Testament of Jesus Christ (1612), a work that clearly stood in the tradition of Erasmus and Beza.86 In 1607, Jacobus Revius travelled to Franeker to study Hebrew with Drusius.87 Peter Korteweg, the author of a dissertation about Drusius’s commentaries on the New Testament, has concluded that Drusius attempted to refrain from treading on theological ground, and that mostly he succeeded, limiting himself strictly to philological exegesis. Even in those few cases where his philological methods had theological implications, Drusius kept systematic theology at a distance.88 Nevertheless, Drusius’s Calvinist orthodoxy would be questioned. In the context of the controversy between Arminians and Gomarists, contemporaries associated Drusius with the Arminian faction.89 As is evident from one of Arminius’s disputations (see above), Arminius highly favoured a vernacular translation of the Bible. Drusius was eminently equipped for the job, but apparently it was due to his friendships with Arminius and Uytenbogaert, who recommended him to Johan van Oldenbarnevelt, that his shortlisting in 1599 did not lead to an appointment to finish the work started by Philips van Marnix van St Aldegonde. The States General questioned his alliances rather than his abilities.90

84 Prima Scaligerana, 96, s.v. ‘grammatica’. The similarity was, of course, not lost on Korteweg, who, in ‘De nieuwtestamentische commentaren van Johannes Drusius’, 89, n. 3, holds open the possibility that Drusius was thinking of Melanchthon, Luther, or Calvin. This I find hard to believe, ‘eruditissimus’ being a typical epithet for a philological scholar and historian, and not fitting for a leading theologian. This would imply that Drusius was already in contact with Scaliger in 1584. 85 Korteweg, ‘De nieuwtestamentische commentaren van Johannes Drusius’, 51. 86 ibid., 53–6. 87 For these friendly contacts, see ibid., 39–40; De Bruijn, Eerst de waarheid, 90. 88 Korteweg, ‘De nieuwtestamentische commentaren van Johannes Drusius’, 27. 89 ibid., 83. 90 ibid., 51. This early date indicates that Arminius’s unorthodox christology was already known ten years before the Troubles erupted in 1609. Biblical Philology: Nothing Radical (1609–1619) 71

Drusius’s positioning in the Arminian camp was due not only to his strong friendship with Arminius, as evinced in the letters discussed above. Nor was it due to his correspondence with Arminius’s successor, Conrad Vorstius.91 Instead, he was situated among the Arminians because of the accumulation of religious contacts like these, his political alliance with Oldenbarnevelt, and the way he put investigation of the biblical text before a discussion about its theological meaning, just as later in the seventeenth century the so-called ‘Scripturarians’ did.92 In 1588, he wrote that it should be known that, first, I carefully noted variant readings [of the biblical text] and various interpretations from Church Fathers; second, explained the more difficult vocabulary whenever it occurred, and Hebrew colloquial phraseology and other expressions unfamiliar to Latin ears. Finally, I have consistently consulted an edition of the Septuagint, which I also corrected in a number of places, relying for that on some manuscripts of good quality and on quotations from old theologians [presumably Church Fathers—DvM].93 Drusius ran into conflict with Sibrandus Lubbertus on the authority of philology: according to Drusius, theologians could not claim a monopoly over biblical philology, even if their explanations were orthodox. Linguists had a right to say what the Hebrew and Greek texts meant. He emphasized the autonomy of the text and allowed himself, if need be, to diverge from mainstream interpretations. The biblical text led to an orthodox point of view, not the other way around.94 Although remarks such as ‘the vulgate Greek manuscripts have this or that reading’ or observations that μ and β are often confused95 suggest that Drusius was an experienced student of biblical manuscripts, he gleaned variants only from printed editions, and it appears that he did not compare any biblical manuscripts himself.96 At one point he diverges from the readings of Erasmus and Beza (at Matthew 6:1), perhaps due to his insight into the Hebrew background of Matthew. Elsewhere (at Mark 16:2), he prefers a reading in Beza’s famous Codex, due partly to rational considerations regarding the storyline. Only very occasionally does Drusius propose a conjectural emendation (in the case of the

91 Only two letters survive: Drusius to Vorstius, 7 November 1603, in Praestantium ac eruditorum virorum epistolae, 118a–b, no. 64; Drusius to Vorstius, 1604, before March, in Drusius, Tetragrammaton, 79–81. See Korteweg, ‘De nieuwtestamentische commentaren van Johannes Drusius’, 111–12. 92 Touber, Spinoza and Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic, chapter 4, n. 1 93 Drusius, Parallela sacra, cited after Korteweg, ‘De nieuwtestamentische commentaren van Johannes Drusius’, 92. 94 Korteweg, ‘De nieuwtestamentische commentaren van Johannes Drusius’, 85. 95 E.g., Drusius, Annotationum in totum Jesu Christi Testamentum, sive praeteritorum libri decem, 115: ‘Vulgati codices Graeci habent “in Bethabara” pro quo in Epiphanio loco citato scriptum “in Bethamara”, errore, ut credibile est, nato ex affinitate characterum, quae tanta est in antiqua scriptura, ut vix discerni possis μῦ et βήτα et contra.’ See above, section 1.4 Scaliger’s biblical philology in the Scaligerana, sub-section ‘Etymologies and antiquarianism’. 96 Korteweg, ‘De nieuwtestamentische commentaren van Johannes Drusius’, 68. 72 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic name of Remphan in Acts 7:43). He sometimes let his choice be guided by the Syriac translation (as at Acts 3:12) or an Aramaic background (at John 1:42) of the text. At John 1:42, to take this last instance, Simon Peter is said to have been the son of John, but other manuscripts have Jona, and some even Joanna. On the basis of the Aramaic, Drusius opted for John.97 Drusius at one point showed remarkable ease in assigning a textual incongruity to a slip of the pen by Matthew himself. In Matthew 27:9 a prophecy of ‘Jeremiah’ is quoted which is in fact found in Zechariah. Beza had at first suggested that very early on in the transmission of the text the name ‘Jeremiah’ had crept into the text through the adoption of a gloss by an inexperienced reader. Later, he pointed out that the abbreviations of both names could easily be con- founded.98 Scaliger had explained the incongruity by assuming a scribal error. He had ridiculed the ‘subterfuge’ of Franciscus Junius, who came up with the explanation that Zechariah had a double name. ‘Theologians throw up aston- ishing things about Jeremiah.’99 Gomarus (not mentioning his brother-in-law Junius) followed this explanation. Drusius (not mentioning Scaliger) said it was either a scribal error or a failure of Matthew himself, who would have been quoting from memory. Drusius did use a theory based on a double name on another occasion, when the father of Balaam is called Bosor in 2 Peter 2:15, although he is named Beor in Numbers 22:7. But in that case, too, Drusius kept open the possibility of a textual corruption. ‘It is remarkable how carefree Drusius was in assuming the evangelist could have made a mistake’, Korteweg observes.100 Only very occasionally does Drusius’s textual criticism and linguistic analysis lead to theological conclusions. Korteweg lists a number of these, although in most cases the theological consequences are rather implicit.101 In one instance, Drusius opposes Anabaptist theology.102 From another annotation it may be concluded that Drusius was not strictly orthodox in his soteriological

97 All these examples I take from Korteweg’s useful discussion, ibid., 68–73. 98 Krans, Beyond What Is Written, 283. 99 Secunda Scaligerana, 386, s.v. ‘Jeremias’: ‘Jeremias citatur Matth. 27 cum sit Zacharias, oportet errorem esse librarii. Binominem fuisse Zachariam, c’est un eschapatoire de Dujon [Du Jon = Junius]. Mirabilia turbant Theologi de Jeremia, quo tempore prophetavit.’ 100 Korteweg, ‘De nieuwtestamentische commentaren van Johannes Drusius’, 69–70, citing Drusius from the latter’s Ad voces of 1616: ‘Ieremiae nomen irrepsisse videtur Matth. 27:6 [=:9] in locum Zachariae vel culpa manus exscribentis, vel certe memoriae vitio.’ 101 Korteweg, ‘De nieuwtestamentische commentaren van Johannes Drusius’, 43 and 74. One of these concerned an alternative reading in the Septuagint as compared with the Hebrew text at Proverbs 8:22, which according to Lubbertus led to the Arianist conclusion that Christ had been created by God at a certain point. Drusius returned to this issue in his explanation of Colossians 1:15 (Annotationum in totum Jesu Christi Testamentum, sive praeteritorum libri decem, 291), in an attempt to clear himself of the suspicion of deviating from Calvinist christology. 102 Drusius, Annotationum in totum Jesu Christi Testamentum, sive praeteritorum libri decem, 79: ‘Significat autem Christum natum ex Maria, non corpus suscepisseἐξ οὐρανοῦ, ut anabaptis- tae somniant.’ Cited after Korteweg, ‘De nieuwtestamentische commentaren van Johannes Drusius’, 75. Biblical Philology: Nothing Radical (1609–1619) 73

interpretations.103 His idea that Christ’s death was in principle sufficient to save every human being (but efficient only for a limited group) did not accord with the doctrine of double predestination as set forth in the Canons of Dordecht.104 Despite Drusius’s professed distance from theology, he sometimes trod on theological ground. True to his principles, he did so armed to the teeth with linguistic knowledge. Like Scaliger, he used rabbinical sources in his commentaries and felt free to come up with conjectures. It has been suggested that this humanist method was sufficient to allow his enemies to associate him with heretical ideas.105 But wielding the tools of linguistics alone was no sin in itself. No one associated Isaac Casaubon with Remonstrantism for doing so. For men such as Sibrandus Lubbertus, the problem seems rather to have been that Drusius sometimes crossed into theological territory, and more specifically into the highly charged discussion on the role of Christ in election.106 Better versed even than Gomarus or Drusius in philology in general and, later in his life, in biblical philology as well (albeit not necessarily in Hebrew), was Hugo Grotius. But as regards the Arminian controversy, textual criticism played only a modest part in his works. Grotius focused on another of Scaliger’s legacies: historical contextualization.

2.6. HUGO GROTIUS’S DE IMPERIO AND ORDINUM PIETAS

‘Grotius was a philologist, and he must have subscribed to Scaliger’s dictum: “All religious dissent depends on ignorance of grammar.” ’ This was the impression that Grotius’s work The Authority of the Supreme Powers in Matters of Religion (De imperio summarum potestatum circa sacra, finished 1617 but published posthumously in 1647) made on its modern editor.107 The book itself is a political work: it has virtually nothing to say on religious doctrine,108 even though its background was the question concerning the right to appoint the allegedly heterodox Conrad Vorstius as a successor to Arminius, much to the dismay of the Gomarists. Overall, the book has an abstract, philosophical

103 Drusius, Annotationum in Novum Testamentum pars altera, 101: ‘Mortuus autem est quoad sufficientiam. Nam sufficiens fuit mors ipsius ad omnes servandos, licet non omnes serventur. Quod accidit culpa hominum, non Dei. Si enim omnes in Christum crederent, omnes servaren- tur. Sed hac de re alii aliter: fruatur quique iudicio suo.’ 104 See the Canons, 2.3, on sufficientia, and 2.8 on efficacia. Again, I have gratefully relied on Korteweg, ‘De nieuwtestamentische commentaren van Johannes Drusius’, 75. 105 Korteweg, ‘De nieuwtestamentische commentaren van Johannes Drusius’, 84–5. 106 According to Scaliger (Secunda Scaligerana, 301), Drusius refused to sign the Belgic Confession, but Korteweg, in ‘De nieuwtestamentische commentaren van Johannes Drusius’, 42, throws doubt on the veracity of this assertion. 107 Van Dam, ‘Introduction,’ in Grotius, De imperio, 4. 108 ibid., 8. 74 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic character. Grotius devised a singular argument, not a universally applicable theory.109 Grotius’s other landmark work of the period, The Religiousness of the States of Holland and West-Friesland (Ordinum pietas, 1613), treats the history of church councils with some degree of detail to prove that in antiquity, they had been presided over by secular governments (paragraphs 100–33). It mobilizes the interpretation of biblical texts by Augustine, Ambrose, and other Church Fathers against Lubbertus, to defend the position that the Church Fathers should ‘be acceptable in our Church’ even if they are fallible.110 Although Grotius’s mindset was deeply historical, Ordinum pietas hardly explains the Bible itself in historical terms; instead, it discusses the interpretations of the Bible at various church councils. The question of how the Church in its earliest, apostolic times was organized provided the backdrop for his discussion of the balance of power between Church and State. This early history of the Church remained of central interest to Grotius for this rest of his life, as we will see in chapter 5. In 1610, the States of Holland gave Johannes Uytenbogaert permission to publish a treatise, in Dutch, ‘on the office and authority of the supreme Christian power in ecclesiastical affairs’.111 It kicked off a long and complicated pamphlet war, in which Grotius managed to put the question of State power over the Church emphatically on the agenda with his Ordinum pietas. Matters were complicated by the fact that those who showed Erastian sympathies were not necessarily Remonstrant in their theological leanings, even if their opponents were keen to observe a link between these two stances. Controversialists on both sides claimed that the Protestant Church should be modelled on early, pre-papal Christendom as much as possible. The early Church Fathers proved key witnesses in the attempt to gain insight into the organization and the rituals of the early Christian church. For Grotius to state that Puritans ‘assign almost no authority to Antiquity, but every authority to recent teachers’ was an accusation. Ordinum pietas abounds with references to the early history of the Church. Yet there are only a dozen mentions of the Bible, and these are usually moral. The paragraph in which Grotius discusses the method of election in apostolic times revolved around an important issue in discussions regarding State and Church.112 According to Grotius, there had been no fixed method of choosing elders. The Greek verb cheirotonesan in Acts

109 ibid., 5. 110 ibid., para. 49.23–26. 111 Uytenbogaert, Tractaet van t’ampt. 112 See, e.g., the discussion of this passage by James Harrington, the leader of the democratic- republican Rota Club. In 1656, Harrington contrasted the democratic procedure of the raising of hands with the top-down imposition of hands in his The Oceana, 88: ‘The [first Order] restoring the power of Ordination to the People, which, that it originally belongs to them, is clear, tho not in the English yet in Scripture, where the Apostles ordain’d Elders by the holding up of hands in every Congregation, that is, by the suffrage of the People, which was also given in som of those Citys by the Ballot. And tho it may be shewn that the Apostles ordain’ed som by the laying on of hands, it will not be shewn that they did so in every Congregation.’ John Selden, in his Table Talk (93, s.v. Biblical Philology: Nothing Radical (1609–1619) 75

14:23 ought to be translated ‘they chose and appointed’, in accordance with interpretation of the Anglican bishop Thomas Bilson, one of the editors of the King James Version, which was based on ‘the usage of all the ancients’.113 Parallels in 2 Timothy 1:6 and in particular 4:14 are mentioned, including Calvin’s interpretation of the latter: 14 Neglect not the gift that is in thee, which was given thee by prophecy, with the laying on of the hands of the presbytery. 14 μὴ ἀμέλει τοῦ ἐν σοὶ χαρίσματος ὃ ἐδόθη σοι διὰ προϕητείας μετὰ ἐπιθέσεως τῶν χειρῶν τοῦ πρεσβυτερίου Calvin—according to Grotius—was right to interpret this verse in such a way that ‘presbytery is the name of an office, not of an assembly’.114 This inferred that ministers were appointed by government officials, not by church councils. A number of other biblical passages are cited in this particular paragraph to bolster Grotius’s point (Acts 6:1–3; 2 Corinthians 8:19–20, 24) but are not subjected to further discussion. So here we have Grotius arguing that elders were appointed by an officeholder, not by an assembly. And he does so on the basis of the interpretation of the meaning of a particular Greek word with a technical meaning. This was the working field of historicizing philology. As Grotius said in his De imperio, where he treated the same term, ‘Indeed, there is hardly any word which does not enlarge its meaning beyond the barriers of its original etymology.’115 Two other hotly debated passages were the verses at 1 Corinthians 14:29 and 32: 29 Let two or three prophets speak, and let the others weigh what is said. 30 If any thing be revealed to another that sitteth by, let the first hold his peace. 31 For ye may all prophesy one by one, that all may learn, and all may be comforted. 32 The spirits of prophets are subject to prophets. Sibrandus Lubbertus cited these verses to bolster his claim that churchmen could be held accountable only by other churchmen and not by secular governments. Grotius disagreed, arguing that the word prophet in the early Church was not the name of some perpetual office but rather signified a gift, ‘such as “the gifts of healing” and “tongues”’.116 Here the interpretation of a crucial technical term impinged on discussions about the power relations between State and Church. We find ourselves on the boundary between biblical philology and theological exegesis: what are the meanings of individual original words? Grotius does not enter into a discussion of potential variants: he does not compare the

‘Minister Divine’, no. 1), argues that the imposition of hands upon a minister meant designating that person to an office: an act confirming a previous co-option, ‘to make a man of one of us’. 113 Grotius, Ordinum pietas, para. 152. Cf. Grotius, De imperio, vol. 1, 454–6; 462–4, where the same point is made. 114 Grotius, Ordinum pietas, para. 152. 115 Grotius, De imperio, para. 10.6, 465. 116 Grotius, Ordinum pietas, para. 79: ‘ut et ἰαματα et γλώσσας’. 76 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic instances in these two passages with other instances, and he hints at how a first-century audience would have understood the word. He historicizes the semantics, and by doing so pairs philology with exegesis. But otherwise in Ordinum pietas he usually stays on the side of a thin type of theological exegesis, providing no historical, ceremonial, or linguistic contexts, nor any scholastic arguments. Grotius makes frequent use of the Bible in his arguments, mostly by silently weaving biblical phrases into his prose, adding authority to his arguments by having the Bible itself speak on their behalf.117 His method of referring to and quoting authors without providing their sources (title of the work, book number, paragraph reference, page number, etc.) is meant to create an ahistorical continuum with the past, a living tradition in which historical distances are collapsed.118

2.7. CONCLUSIONS

Drusius, Grotius, and Gomarus were not adverse to Scaliger’s textual-critical, linguistic, and historicizing philology. Arminius praised it in his letters, but hardly practised it actively. Gomarus used a good deal of linguistics in his non- controversial works, but no textual criticism. But Arminius and Gomarus almost entirely eschewed Scaliger’s method while engaging in their christological debates about election, predestination, and grace. Grotius historicized, but he focused more on the early history of the apostolic community than on interpretation of the Bible proper, and although he explained the use of some technical terms, there is no textual criticism in his controversial works of the 1610s. Drusius, who most fully exercised the type of philology that Scaliger had commended, engaged with textual criticism and linguistics, but he stood outside the debate, was side-lined as a translator for the new Dutch version of the Bible, and died in 1616, just before the Troubles reached their peak in 1617–1619. It was probably under the influence of Scaliger that the Leiden professor of Hebrew Gulielmus Coddaeus compiled a collection of New Testament quotations in patristic texts that differed from the available texts of the New Testament, but this remained unpublished.119 The constitution of the biblical text played no role in the Troubles, and arguments addressing the sovereignty of Church or the State in matters theological had only little to do with linguistic interpretations of the Bible. Instead, historical appropriations of the Bible, the organization of the first churches in apostolic

117 E.g., para. 20.15–17; and 32:31–32. 118 Rabbie, ‘Introduction’, in Grotius, Ordinum pietas, 73. 119 De Jonge, De bestudering, 21–2. Biblical Philology: Nothing Radical (1609–1619) 77 times, drew attention. It was not so much the case that Arminius showed himself more willing than Gomarus to look back beyond Calvin, but that he recognized the Calvinist tradition as a human tradition.120 Historicism was not wasted on Gomarus, as we have seen. He even acknowledged (following Calvin) that Jewish laws were historically situated and therefore not always directly applicable to modern life, reason why one Voetian later on the in the century, in the midst of intra-Reformed discussion over the observation of Sunday rest, associated Gomarus with Arminianism.121 It was rather Grotius who in fact took up the challenge to look back beyond Calvin. The separation of theology and philology in the discussion is remarkable, given that Arminius, Gomarus, and Grotius were accomplished biblical scholars. Drusius seems to have been drawn into the fray not because of his sometimes quite daring philological observations, but because of his sympathy for Arminius. It was, then, not biblical philology or humanist scholarship as such which formed the line along which Arminians and Gomarists, or Remonstrants and Counter-Remonstrants, split. To state that ‘many an otherwise “orthodox” Calvinist was often an unconfessed or latent Arminian in scholarly method’ and that ‘almost all Calvinists were beneficiaries of scholarship by Arminians’, as Katchen does,122 is to skew the humanist tradition of philology too much in favour of one party. The Troubles ended with the Synod of Dordrecht (1618–1619), at which Daniel Heinsius acted as the secretary of the lay delegation. Scaliger and Arminius had already died in 1609, before the controversies erupted in full. Drusius died in 1616. Grotius was arrested in 1618. Biblical philology had played only a minor role during the Troubles, but over the next decade, it provided an immensely important toolkit for Calvinist orthodoxy to stabilize the text of the Bible in the vernacular. Philology was now fruitfully enlisted as the handmaiden of the prevailing orthodox faction.

120 Katchen, Christian Hebraists, 26. 121 See Touber, Spinoza and Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic, ‘The Sabbath in the 1650s: Leiden vs Utrecht’. 122 Katchen, Christian Hebraists, 26. 3

Mobilizing Biblical Philology: The States’ Translation (1619–1637)

3.1. PHILOLOGY: HANDMAIDEN TO PHILOLOGY

Chapter 2 demonstrated that philology was practised by latitudinarian and orthodox scholars alike, and that it was not deemed inherently subversive. This chapter develops this line of thought by demonstrating the importance of philology for those who aimed to stabilize the biblical text in the Dutch Authorized Version: the States’ Translation, which was published in 1637. This project of translation shows how the hermeneutical principle of philology as a handmaiden to theology worked out in practice.

3.2. MAKING THE STATES’ TRANSLATION

The Synod of Dordrecht was a serious affair about important business handled by men in black—not a place where we would expect to hear a good collective laugh. Yet at some point during one of its endless discussions the delegates grew weary and giggly about the futility of the issue, as one of the delegates recalled. ‘This triviality was rather graceful; many in the audience were laugh- ing with me, for they spoke with such seriousness and awe about the words du and ghij.’ The question concerned the personal pronoun with which to address God in Dutch: should it be the singular but archaic du, as Philips van Marnix van St Aldegonde had done in his translation of the book of Psalms, or should it be ghij, a grammatical plural which sounded rather formal when used as a singular. Opinions varied from province to province: the Frisians voted for du; one of the Holland delegates agreed, and they were backed by the entire English delegation; but Holland, Zeeland, Utrecht, and Guelders all thought ghij would be better. Those in favour of du offered the reminder that, according to Marnix, the plural and formal ghij had been introduced by the Spaniards, but God was a Mobilizing Biblical Philology: The States’ Translation (1619–1637) 79 singular entity, with no need for bowing and scraping. The others argued that ghij was perhaps regarded as singular more often than plural and thought that du was an uncivilized personal pronoun. They pointed out that Marnix’s Psalms translation had remained unpopular precisely because of its use of du.1 Du, thought Sibrandus Lubbertus; no, ghij, said Johannes Polyander à Kerckhoven, supported by Anthonius Thysius and Antonius Walaeus. The vote was cast, and it was decided that God in Dutch would be addressed with ghij.2 The discussion was part of the deliberations about the necessity of a new Dutch vernacular translation of the entire Bible starting from square one, following the example of the King James Version in English. The references to Marnix show that this was not the first attempt to come to a fresh Dutch (i.e., Lower Dutch) translation of the entire Bible. Prior to Marnix, the main Dutch Bibles were the so-called Liesvelt Bible, printed in Antwerp in 1526 and derived from Luther’s German translation, and the Deux Aes Bible (Emden, 1562), which contained a New Testament translated directly from the Greek.3 Increasingly the Dutch Reformed Church felt the intertwining of Lutheran and Calvinist translations to be a liability. Attempts to come to an entirely new, Calvinist translation involved Marnix, but also the theologians Arnoldus Cornelii Crusius, Werner Helmichius, and Johannes Drusius. Drusius, whom Marnix thought competent and whom Arminius thought to be an excellent candidate because of his superlative knowledge of Hebrew, was excluded, to his dismay. Arminius reported to Uytenbogaert in 1600: The son of a theologian from Franeker . . . said to me: ‘[The minister Johannes] Roggius told me that Drusius was excluded from translating the Bible at the Synod of South-Holland, and even that he was excluded from inspecting the translation.’ You at least carefully noted that this was decreed only to exclude him, but this twenty-year-old boy openly quoted Roggius on this, no doubt unaware how deeply I respect Drusius.4 As we have seen, Scaliger may have been wrong in telling his students that Drusius had refused to sign the Belgic Confession and the Heidelberg Catechism5—assent to which the synods of South- and North-Holland had

1 Kaajan, Pro-Acta, 117; De Bruin, ‘Bijbelvertaling’, 139–40. Marnix had in fact not chosen du himself: this had been prescribed by the Synod of South-Holland; see Janssen, ‘Aanteekeningen’, 70. 2 Kaajan, Pro-Acta, 118–19. In these pro-acta (i.e., the diaries and recollections of several delegates, but not the official acts) no mention is made of the plural form of the Hebrew Elohim, but it might well have played a role in the discussion. 3 Grosheide, ‘De theologie van de Statenvertalers’, 131; Verdegaal, De Statenbijbel, 16–17. On the history of Dutch vernacular bibles, see now Gillaerts et al., eds, Bijbelvertalingen in de Lage Landen. For the name, see De Bruin, ‘Bijbelvertaling’, 133. 4 Arminius to Uytenbogaert, 8 September 1599, in Praestantium et eruditorum virorum epistolae, 100b, no. 51 (Arminius’s praise of Drusius) and Arminius to Uytenbogaert, 26 May 1600, in ibid., 102b, no. 53. 5 See chapter 2, section 2.3, ‘Jacobus Arminius’, n. 44. 80 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic agreed upon as a prerequisite for qualifying as a translator.6 But perhaps Arminius’s and Uytenbogaert’s recommendations of Drusius had made him suspect.7 Still, the States General paid Drusius an additional fee to write comments on difficult passages of the Old Testament, as a means to support the translators.8 The translators made so little progress that a preacher from the city of Zutphen and a former student of Drusius, Willem Baudartius, argued in his pamphlet Wechbereyder op de Verbeteringhe van den Nederlandschen Bybel (Roadmap for the Improvement of the Dutch Bible 1606) for an easier solution: a Dutch translation could be made from Johannes Piscator’s more literal German translation (1602–1603). (Luther’s translation was deemed too interpretative, of course.) Take Genesis 2:25 in the Deux Aes Bible: ‘Ende sy waren beyde naeckt, de mensche ende zijn wijf’ (‘And they were both naked, the human and his wife’). Some had therefore concluded that women were not human beings. This needed to be remedied by translating the Hebrew adam not as ‘the man/the human’ but as ‘Adam’. Baudartius, in fact, had corresponded with his former teacher about the question ‘whether the Woman is a human being’.9 Baudartius notably pointed out that the translations of names of birds, fish, and other animals, as well as trees, stones, weights, weapons, offices, measures, coins, colours, clothes, etc., were highly problematic.10 The commissioned translator Helmichius was not amused and managed to convince his employers, the Synod of South-Holland, to condemn Baudartius’s booklet. Apart from Baudartius’s insinuation that Helmichius had been lazy, his booklet was deemed especially offensive because it was written in the vernacular, although its subject was not something the non-specialist—apparently deemed unworthy to participate in a discussion about what he himself should read—would understand. This top-down attitude pervaded the entire project of the States’ Translation, even as this vernacular translation was aimed precisely at the non-specialist, common reader. Although the attempts of Helmichius and of Marnix were succeeded by the preliminary work of other Calvinist preachers, such as Jodocus Larenus, Gerson Bucerus, Hermannus Faukelius, and others, the body of translation work thus prepared failed to coalesce into a complete translation. Under the auspices of the States General, and backed, no doubt, by the triumphant stadholder, Maurice of Orange, the Synod of Dordrecht offered the opportunity to finally settle the matter.

6 Hinlópen, Historie, 33–4; Janssen, ‘Aanteekeningen’, 74–5. At the Synod of Dordrecht, it was likewise stipulated that the translators should be living pious lives; see Kaajan, Pro-Acta, 127. 7 See chapter 2, section 2.5, ‘Johannes Drusius’, n. 89. 8 Korteweg, ‘De nieuwtestamentische commentaren van Johannes Drusius’, 51. 9 De Bruin, De Statenvbijbel en zijn voorgangers, 269. I found no reference to this in Drusius, De quaesitis or in Pearson, Critici sacri, vol. 5, fol. Y3vo, col. 347–8. 10 De Bruin, De Statenbijbel en zijn voorgangers, 270. Mobilizing Biblical Philology: The States’ Translation (1619–1637) 81

At the Synod’s opening on 19 November 1618, its president, Johannes Bogerman, recited a solemn prayer. He then reviewed the translations in other vernacular languages and acknowledged the need for a new Dutch translation.11 This need was underscored by delegates from several Dutch provinces and abroad: it was all too evident that people relied too heavily on a hodgepodge of Dutch translations which were partly based on other translations. A new translation was deemed important for combatting Anabaptism and Catholicism. Given the context of the Synod, Bogerman may also have been thinking of countering Arminian and Socinian interpretations. Many ministers who knew no Latin relied on bad translations, which then became the basis of mustered doctrines, which, however pious or useful, were ‘not in accordance with the sacred sense of the contextus’. 12 Contextus in the acts of Dordrecht usually means ‘text’, ‘source text’, or ‘original text’, in the sense, no doubt, of the whole text, including the things preceding and following a given passage (antecedentia and consequentia).13 When it was decided to print in smaller type and between brackets all the vernacular words whose equivalents were not in the Hebrew or Greek but were necessary to create syntactically correct sentences in Dutch, the aim was to ensure that these additions ‘can be discerned from the words of the contextus’, i.e., the original text.14 Bogerman’s phrasing suggests that he understands there to be a sacred character (sensus sacer) of the original text, i.e., there was a theological meaning of that text that had been inspired by the Holy Spirit. In other words: existing translations distorted or ignored the theological message, and the States’ Translation had to set this right. A correct translation thus automatically led to a theologically sound Bible. We see here the same hermeneutics ascribed to philology: research into the text would lead to a more correct text, wherein the Holy Spirit would speak all the more clearly and unambiguously. But changing the text was a delicate business. As one delegate at Dordrecht put it: ‘the people loathe even the slightest change when Bibles are reprinted’.15 Eventually, the Synod decided to take the KJV as an example, and recommended avoiding glosses and explanations, noting parallels in the margins, and giving marginal ‘paraphrases of those phrases of which the sense cannot be conveyed by one phrase only’. Hebraisms and Graecisms should be maintained to familiarize Dutch readers with the language of the Holy Spirit. Paul himself had not avoided Hebraisms in his Greek epistles.16 However, if keeping the idiom was deemed impossible, there ought to be a marginal notation of the

11 For a Dutch translation of the prayer, see Van Itterzon, Johannes Bogerman, 44–8. 12 Breytinger, Acta Helvetiorum (cited by Kaajan, Pro-Acta, 71, n. 1): ‘doctrinas . . . utiles quidem et pias sed a sensu contextus sacri prorsus alienas’. See also Donner and Van den Hoorn, Acta, 18. 13 Jung, Das Ganze der Heiligen Schrift, 16. 14 Kaajan, Pro-Acta, 87. 15 Breytinger, Acta Helvetiorum (as cited by Kaajan, Pro-Acta, 74, n. 3): ‘Nihil plebi odiosius esse, quam in recudendis Bibliis vel tantillum mutari.’ 16 Kaajan, Pro-Acta, 82. 82 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic fact.17 For obscure phrases, the translation must be accounted for, but doctrinal remarks were neither necessary nor advisable.18 A contradictory decision was made. On the one hand, the new translation had to be made straight from the source text; existing translations, commentaries, explanations, and the opinions of learned men were to be taken into account only in more difficult passages,19 presumably in the process of translating them. On the other, the Synod advised keeping everything in Deux Aes Bible which could serve the truth, as well as the purity and character of the Dutch language.20 Comparison of the States’ Translation with previous Dutch translations has shown that for the Old Testament the German translation by Johannes Piscator was most frequently followed, followed by the Deux Aes Bible, which was preferred over Marnix’s version (as far as it was completed).21 For the New Testament, the translations were more oriented towards what had been given in the Deux Aes Bible.22 Clearly, considerable heed was taken of tradition. After these deliberations, long discussions evolved about the desirability of including Apocryphal books, and if so, in what way. In the end, the Apocrypha was included as an appendix, although there were no annotations whatsoever. Only a warning to the reader was included by way of a preface.23 Different page layouts for the canonical text and the Apocrypha made visible the texts’ differing status. Brackets and fonts were used to distinguish between translations of the words of the original text and necessary Dutch additions.24 Conscious attention was paid to the text’s layout and its visual aspects. There were other disputes: not only regarding the pronouns du and ghij, but also about the translation of Jehovah. The president feared this dispute would have no end and cut short the discussion.25 It was decided not to transliterate or translate Hebrew names but to use the forms that had been adopted in previous translations. Appendices ought to be attached containing translations of proper names, chronologies, genealogies, and geographical maps, plus subject and name indexes. Eventually only the name index was prepared, and the names of persons and places were dealt with according to the decisions made at Dordrecht.26 During the last sessions the translators and revisers were chosen. A plan was adopted to split the translation process into two stages. A team of translators (oversetters) was charged with producing a draft translation. Subsequently, a team of ‘revisores’ (oversieners) would have to amend the work of the translators. All the translators were pastors, who were to be temporarily replaced in

17 ibid., 87; Donner and Van den Hoorn, Acta, 20. 18 Kaajan, Pro-Acta, 88. 19 ibid., 85. 20 ibid., 84–5. 21 Sevenster, ‘De Statenvertaling’, 278, 281, 284, 286. 22 ibid., 271, 286, 289, 293. 23 Kaajan, Pro-Acta, 104–5; Donner and Van den Hoorn, Acta, 21. 24 The brackets were indeed adopted, though quite sparingly. No smaller font was used for bracketed words. 25 Kaajan, Pro-Acta, 121. 26 Statenvertaling, 1–42; Hinlópen, Historie, 131. Mobilizing Biblical Philology: The States’ Translation (1619–1637) 83 their own parishes so they could gather in Leiden and work near the university library. As with the KJV, the Swedish Gustav Vasa Bible, and the Bohemian Kralicy Bible in their respective locales, people from different parts of the country were appointed as translators, in a conscious effort to mould the language and give the new translation a ‘national’ character.27 Interestingly, none of the translators were university professors. These were only appointed to the team of revisers, and hence were assigned to serve, because of their presumably superior theological knowledge, as the gatekeepers of the translation’s dogmatic integrity. In 1619, the official proposal to create a new translation was presented to the States General. In subsequent years, however, the States failed to clear a number of obstacles, and this prevented the work from taking off.28 The reasons for the delay have been sought in the States General’s involvement in the removal of Remonstrants, as well as the resumption of the war with Spain in 1621 and the resulting financial difficulties.29 Perhaps the States also sympathized with the misgivings of printers and booksellers, who had written an open letter against the plans and had complained that they risked getting stuck with the eighty thousand Deux Aes Bibles they still had in stock.30 Little did the blessing of the Lord seem to rest upon the teams of translators and revisers. The precise composition of the teams changed throughout the process, due to a sad string of eight deaths and one illness in less than ten years.31 Their spots were quickly filled, however, so it might seem that many ministers were qualified to work on revising a translation from Hebrew of Greek. But appearances can be deceptive. When Ubbo Emmius died on 9 December 1625, he was succeeded as reviser of the Old Testament by Henricus Alting (1583–1644). A draft of a letter by Bogerman to Alting suggests that Alting, who would develop into a capable biblical philologist later on in his career,32 had shown little confidence that his Hebrew was up to standard. Bogerman dismissed his scruples: an average knowledge of Hebrew was sufficient, and Alting could learn as he proceeded.33 More striking, even, he said that The solid explanation (explicatio) of a biblical passage is far more important than the conjectures of a thousand critics, in which some men so childishly rejoice.34

27 Burke, Lost (and Found) in Translation, 10. 28 Van Itterzon, ‘Hinderpalen’. 29 Nauta, ‘Geschiedenis’, 18. 30 Nauta, ‘Geschiedenis’, 14. 31 See Van Miert, ‘De Statenvertaling’, 411–12; Hinlópen, Historie, 109–10. 32 He passed this knowledge on to his son Jacob Alting (1618–1679), whose scripturarian methods showed affinity with Coccejus’s philology, even if he strongly disagreed with the theological- historical conclusions Coccejus drew from these. See Touber, Spinoza and Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic. Introduction, ‘Scripturarianism’, n. 69. 33 Van Miert, ‘Making the States’ Translation’, 449. 34 Bogerman to Altingius, s.d., (autograph draft, Leeuwarden, Tresoar, 9056 hs MM: crossed- out sections are reproduced in the transcription, as are passages added from above the line (underscored and between slashes: \ /)): ‘non requiritur \rarior illa/ magistralis et eminens Heb. 84 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

Bogerman, interestingly, speaks of the many philological instruments (aids, or subsidia) which supported the translation project, a point to which we will return. Bogerman specifically cites theexplicatio of a passage, which suggests that he was concerned not merely with translating, but also with commenting— again an element of the States’ Translation which will be treated in more detail below. The actual process of drawing up the first-line translation and revising it took ten years. On 11 May 1624, the States passed a resolution outlining that the translators should work on their own and convene once every six months to discuss their progress.35 Of course, one of the first questions concerned which Greek text the translators of the New Testament would have to work on;in the words of one of them, ‘what recensio should be made, for one hardly knows which Greek exemplars one shall follow’.36 The question as to which Greek text to rely on was paramount, but it remains unclear which text the translators followed. When the revisers of the New Testament convened in November 1634, they decided to rely on the Stephanus edition, which had been published in 1588/1589 with the notes and translation of Theodorus Beza.37 The team must have addressed this issue on 22 and 23 May 1625, when all the translators of the Old and New Testaments convened for the first time, in The Hague.38 But it was only in November 1626 that all six translators (three for the Old Testament and three for the New Testament) came together in Leiden for the first time. There they drew up a set of orthographic rules.39 The translators of the Old Testament finished their job in 1633, despite the sickness of Bogerman and the death of Bucerus.40 linguae peritia, qualis fuit in Bibliorum Interprete Iunio, et qua praeditus est collega tuus D. Gomarus, qui professionem istius linguae cum Theologica coniunxit . . . . Sufficiet \notitia/ mediocris \qualis ordinarie et communiter in omnium Academiarum Profess. Theologis fuisse et etiam nunc esse nosti./ . . . Imo vel hoc nomine gratularis tibi de hac vocatione \potes gratulari/ quod eius occasione tacite pede licebit ulterius progredi in hebraicis, quod facile erit in tanta subsidiorum copia, quibus hoc seculum abundat. Solarum Concordantiarum Heb. Veterum et novarum Buxtorfianarum usus brevi tempore expediet plurima. Vix caput Test. Vet. absolveris, quin tibimet ipsi satisfeceris . . . . Pluris facienda est \certa/ solida loci \alicuius/ explicatio, quam mille Criticorum coniecturae, in quibus nonnulli \adeo/ iuveniliter exultant.’ 35 Resolutiën Staten-Generaal, no. 3265, 535; Janssen, Oud Synodaal Archief, 23, no. 8.5 (The Hague, Royal Library, Microfilm no. 124, 27–30); Fris, Inventaris, 20, no. 153. 36 Faukelius to Hommius, 22 June 1624, cited in Van Itterzon, ‘Hinderpalen’, 142: ‘wat recensio daer kan geschieden, daermen nouwelijck weet wat exemplaria greca m[en sal] volgen’. 37 Renesse, Commentariolus, 135; Hinlópen, Historie, 111–12; Ab Utrecht Dresselhuis, ‘Pieter Lozeleur,’ 95, n. 1. 38 Wijminga, Festus Hommius, 320; Janssen, Oud Synodaal Archief, 23, no. 8.6 (Microfilm no. 124). Faukelius had died two weeks earlier and was replaced by Walaeus. 39 Hinlópen, Bylagen, 77–116; Heinsius, De ‘resolutien’, 1919. The rules were not always followed. 40 Baudartius to Amama, 22 April 1627 (Leeuwarden, Tresoar, 9056 hs MM), on Bogerman’s illness. Gerson Bucerus died in August 1631: Gomarus to Polyander, 19 September 1631 (Van Itterzon, Gomarus, 1930, 428). Gomarus confirmed receipt of the translation of the first six minor prophets in a letter to Bogerman, 30 January 1633 (Van Itterzon, Franciscus Gomarus, 429–30). Mobilizing Biblical Philology: The States’ Translation (1619–1637) 85

On 26 July 1633, the team of revisers made a calculation. They had eight months to finish revising the entire Old Testament translation. That amounted to 246 days, minus thirty-five Sundays and the twenty-six days that had already past, leaving 185 days. The Old Testament numbered 929 chapters, minus seven that had already been discussed. If they completed five chapters a day, they would meet the deadline. To proceed efficiently, it was decided to concentrate on the question ‘whether the sensus sacrae scripturae was well reflected and, if the answer was affirmative, to leave it at that’. Remarks on mistakes and typos in the Autographon had to be handed over to Jacobus Revius, but were not to be discussed during the meetings. At 9 a.m. Bogerman would start the day with a prayer. Whoever entered the room after the end of the prayer had to donate three stuivers to the poor. Anyone who failed to show up had to pay double the amount.41 The translators of the New Testament, meanwhile, completed their job only in September 1634. From 16 November onwards, the team of revisers convened in Leiden, to discuss in daily six-hour sessions their comments, which each had prepared the evening before. It took the revisers of the New Testament almost a year to rewrite the translation and the annotations. On 31 August 1635, they were ready.42 Caspar Sibelius later recollected how his fellow reviser, the secretary Hommius, struggled to implement all the changes.43 Subsequently, the New Testament had to be typeset, a process which took another year. After some bickering between the translators and the States General over the preface, which caused further delay, the printing process was finally completed in June 1637.44 On 29 July 1637, the States General authorized the translation of both the Old and New Testaments and on 17 September 1637 the first copy was presented, clothed in purple velvet. Walaeus, Hommius, and André Rivet, preacher in The Hague and tutor to stadholder Frederick Henry’s son (the future Prince William II) handed it over to the States General. It was almost nineteen years after the new translation had been put on the agenda of the Synod of Dordrecht on 19 November 1618, and ten years after the translation work had started in earnest. Two versions were printed: a large edition with all the annotations in the margin, and a much lighter book, likewise in folio but with fewer annotations. As even the ‘light version’ was expensive, smaller editions soon began to appear,

41 Oud Synodaal Archief; Fris, Inventaris, 1991, 18, no. 135: ‘Acta van de gezamenlijke vergaderingen van de vertalers van het Oude Testament en de revisoren over de vertaling; met bijlagen’; published in Hinlópen, Historie, 142–3, and Hinlópen, Bylagen, 1–16, where these Acta have been published; see esp. 9 for the passage cited). 42 Renesse, Commentariolus, 145. They subsequently (from 6 September to 10 October) went quickly through the Apocrypha, which was a relatively easy job, as these books were not accompanied by annotations (Hinlópen, Bylagen, 146–7). See also Wijminga, Festus Hommius, who relies on Hinlópen. 43 Van Miert, ‘Making the States’ Translation’, 448. 44 Kaajan, Pro-Acta, 136–45; Van den Berg and Thijs, ‘Statenvertaling’, 33. 86 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic for example of the New Testament only. With the help of these smaller editions, the States’ Translation conquered the Dutch within two decades. During the translation process a special master copy of the ‘translation- in-progress’ had been prepared. As soon as the translators had finished a set of books, the text was brought to the printer, who typeset this so-called Autographon: an interleaved first proof of the text of the translators.45 The revisers integrated their comments into this unique copy. This Autographon survives, and it shows thousands of corrections, additions, and deletions, indicated manually by the revisers. We can thus reconstruct the long discussions that had gone on behind the scenes, before these changes were incorporated into a newly typeset copy of the translation, which was presented to the outside world as the touchstone of Calvinist orthodoxy. Elsewhere, I have discussed the way the translators and revisers handled the New Testament.46 Here, I focus on the Old Testament.

3.3. REVISING THE OLD TESTAMENT STATES’ TRANSLATION

An exchange of letters between the translator Bogerman and the reviser Gomarus shows that each acknowledged how difficult the precise understanding of Hebrew vocabulary could be. To come to grips with the original texts, they had recourse to a body of earlier translations and a vast apparatus of philological aids. In April 1630, Bogerman asked Gomarus for his opinion on the translation of two verses in Psalm 55, which it had fallen on him to translate. He was having troubles with the word yehabcha (‘thy burden’) in verse 23: Cast thy burden upon the LORD, and he shall sustain thee: he shall never suffer the righteous to be moved. Bogerman pointed out that Jewish scholars were divided over the meaning of the word yehab, which could also mean ‘to lay down at’. Because the word occurred frequently, he thought it safer to follow Calvin’s opinion on the word yehad (burden) than to adopt ‘the meaning or the Arab use from the Thalmuddic fable’. That Bogerman rejected a Talmudic reading is less interesting than his consultation of the Talmud in the first place. The Deux Aes Bible and Piscator’s German translation have aenliggen and ‘anligen’ (to lay down at), which they

45 Oud-Synodaal Archief, catalogue nos 136–40 (microfilm nos 542–94). See Fris, Inventaris, 18. The Autographon bears no date of printing. Fris dates the translation of the Old Testament to 1633 and that of the New Testament to 1634. The printed States’ Translation was typeset anew: its foliation differs from that of the Autographon, and the display capitals for each biblical book are more elaborate. 46 Van Miert, ‘Making the The States’ Translation’. Mobilizing Biblical Philology: The States’ Translation (1619–1637) 87 borrowed from Luther (‘anliegen’). Bogerman doubted that this word did justice to the Hebrew. The Aramaic translation has sibarcha: ‘thy soul’. The Septuagint has merimna (‘your care’), according to the Antwerp Polyglot and the ‘Roman edition’.47 Bogerman points out that merimna was what the apostle Peter read and hence was taken over in his first Epistle, 5:7 (‘casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you’). The Geneva Bible and the KJV have ‘burden, charge’ (which Bogerman gives and translates into Latin as onus, sarcina), as do François Vatable in his notes and the Zurich Bible. Pagnini has pondus tuum (‘your burden’). Calvin provides the somewhat passive translation ‘a gift or to give’. The translation of Tremellius and Junius is more active: ‘that which gives’. Finally, Bogerman refers to the known opinions of rabbis Abraham Ibn Ezra and David Kimchi. In addition, he had Sixtinus Amama’s Bybelsche Conferentie (1623) on his table, which Gomarus had recommended, because it discussed the shortcomings of the Deux Aes Bible; already in 1620, Amama himself had given one of the revisers of the Old Testament, Anthonius Thysius, a copy of a critical survey of the Vulgate.48 Bogerman then asked for Gomarus’s opinion on the matter, and also on the words hayu imadi in verse 19 in the same psalm.49 Gomarus answered a month later in a long and learned letter. Drawing on David Kimchi, the Liesvelt Bible, the Deux Aes Bible, and Franciscus Junius’s edition, he preferred a prophetic interpretation for verse 19, and thought that in the noun sentences (where the Hebrew has no verb ‘to be’ and where a form of that verb must be supplied) a perfective aspect had to be understood (the Hebrew has no past tense). A perfective aspect would stress the certainty of the prophecy. Hence, in a translation, one had to supply a form of ‘to be’ in the perfect tense. This is indeed how the verse was eventually translated into Dutch in the States Translation: 19 Hy heeft mijne ziele in vrede verlost van den strijt 35tegen my: want 36met menichten zijnse tegen my geweest 19 He hath delivered my soul in peace from the battle against me: for there have been many with me. [The KJV has ‘were’, not ‘have been’.] Then Gomarus moved on to Psalms 55:23. Drawing on the Talmud, on discussions by Kimchi and rabbis Nathan, Salomon, and Ibn Ezra on the Septuagint, and on the interpretations of Giovanni Diodati, Polyander à Kerckhoven,

47 This edition, by cardinal Antonio Carafa, was based on Codex Vaticanus (B) and was published under the auspices of Pope Sixtus V as Ἡ Παλαιὰ Διαθήκη κατὰ τοὺς Ἑβδομήκοντα . . . Vetus Testamentum iuxta Septuaginta ex auctoritate Sixti V. Ponti. Max. editum, Rome, 1586 [i.e., 1587]. The high quality of this edition was generally acknowledged, even in Protestant circles. 48 Sixtinus Amama, Censura Vulgatae atque a Tridentinis canonizatae versionis quinque librorum Mosis, Franeker: Fridericus Heynsius, 1620. The copy with Amama’s handwritten dedication to Thysius is in The Hague, Royal Library, shelfmark KW 3179 F 33. 49 Bogerman to Gomarus, 25 April 1630 (autograph, Leeuwarden, Tresoar, ms., Gabbema 9056 hs MM; not in Van Itterzon, Franciscus Gomarus). 88 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

Calvin, the Christian Hebraist Paul Fagius, and Luther, Gomarus lectured at length on the constitution of the Hebrew Masoretic text and its meaning. Gomarus opted for ‘gift’ instead of ‘burden’, and Bogerman adopted this reading. In the Autographon, this change is visible. I indicate below what the revisers added in the margin or on the interleaved folios (between slashes and underscored: \__/) and what they crossed out. The text of Psalm 55:23 in the Autographon runs: Werpt uw sorge \gave/ op den HEERE Cast thy burden \gift/ on the LORD However, the text that was printed and published reads: Werpt uw sorge op den HEERE Cast thy burden on the LORD Unless this passage as printed represents a failure of the typesetters to account for the alteration, then it must have been the case that Gomarus and Bogerman, who were both among the revisers, changed their minds after discussion with Jacobus Revius and Johannes Polyander à Kerckhoven, in which all the same arguments would doubtless have been revisited. Small wonder that the revision took more time than was planned (see below). Gomarus was well aware of the parallels between the work that he and his colleagues had embarked on and that of the Septuagint translators. In February 1636, when the printing of the Old Testament was in full swing, Gomarus pointed out in a letter to Polyander à Kerkchoven that, according to the Letter of Aristeas, the Septuagint translators had convened ‘in one room (not in 72 separate cells) and consented to one single translation after mutual comparison and discussion’. He also noted that the seventy-two-day time span had only allowed for a translation of the Pentateuch, being far too little time for the translation of the entire Old Testament. Interestingly, Gomarus teased out what Jerome, Justin Martyr, and Philo wrote on the issue, and then referred Polyander à Kerckhoven to three letters of Scaliger, printed in 1627 and discussed in chapter 1. Echoing Scaliger, Gomarus held that the rest of the Old Testament was translated only during a later stage into Greek by Hellenistic Jews living in Egypt, and these translations had later been incorporated into the Septuagint.50 Gomarus was, of course, not the first to doubt the Aristean account.51 He was, however, the only sceptic whose reasoning was empirically based on his own experience: his being part of a collective translation of both testaments—and, of course, the Septuagint translators had no dealings with the New Testament— made him doubt the veracity of a venerated tradition.

50 Gomarus to Polyander à Kerckhoven, 2 February 1636, in Van Itterzon, Franciscus Gomarus, 433. 51 Wasserstein and Wasserstein, The Legend of the Septuagint. Mobilizing Biblical Philology: The States’ Translation (1619–1637) 89

Gomarus and Bogerman were well acquainted with a host of Rabbinic sources, which they compared with French, German, English, Latin, Greek, and Aramaic translations. They used a variety of editions and interpreters to interpret variants and meanings.52 If we try to imagine Bogerman poring over Psalm 55, we see him surrounded by Bibles and related material in various languages: Amama’s critical discussion, the Deux Aes Bible, Piscator’s German translation, the Targum (presumably the version printed in the Antwerp Polyglot), the Roman edition of the Septuagint, the Geneva Bible, the KJV, François Vatable’s lecture notes, Zwingli’s Zurich Bible, Pagnini’s translation, Calvin’s commentaries, the commentary of Ibn Ezra, and the indispensable lexicon of David Kimchi. He also consulted the Antwerp Polyglot, and there can be no doubt he used the eight-volume copy in Leiden University’s library. William of Orange himself had donated it when this humanist academy was founded in 1575 as the first book in the library. In Leiden it was considered to be ‘the foundation on which the library was built’.53 It is likely, therefore, that the Pater Patriae William of Orange was connected to the States’ Translation via the Catholic Biblia regia of Philip II, which was at hand for Bogerman to use, together with at least eleven other volumes of Bibles and commentaries. Bogerman’s correspondent Gomarus was likewise surrounded by a vast philological toolset. Gomarus had read the Hebrew Bible from Genesis to Malachi at least three times and had filled two-and-a-half books with his observations on words and phrases.54 From his Opera, it appears that he studied a variety of Greek manuscripts, or at least their collations in the editions of Henricus Stephanus and Theodorus Beza (the edition of 1588/1589), a Greek- Latin codex of the Gospels which George Dousa had seen in Constantinople,55 and the editions by Gerbelius (1521), testimonia by Bebelius (Basel, 1531), Colinaeus (Paris, 1534), and Brylinger (Basel, 1558), an edition of 1564,56 and Italian manuscripts from Robertus Stephanus, which were followed by his son Henricus Stephanus in the latter’s 1576 edition of the New Testament. Gomarus also made use of Casaubon’s notes on the New Testament, many of which grew out of Casaubon’s study of Polybius (Casaubon, in these Notae on the four gospels and Acts, frequently refers to Polybius—as he does to Strabo and Euripides and other pagan authors—to explain the meaning of Greek words).57 Gomarus was

52 Gomarus to Bogerman, 24 May 1630, in Van Itterzon, Franciscus Gomarus, 425–6; see also Van Itterzon, Johannes Bogerman, 117. 53 Berkvens-Stevelinck, Magna Commoditas, 20–1. On the Antwerp Polyglot, see Dunkelgrün, ‘The Multiplicity of Scripture’. 54 Gomarus to Polyander à Kerckhoven, 14 January 1637, in Van Itterzon, Franciscus Gomarus, 436. 55 This codex is not mentioned in Georgius Dousa’s De itinere suo Constantinopolitano Epistola, but that does not mean that Dousa did not carry the manuscript home. The only biblical manuscript he speaks of (page 70) is a volume of ‘variae interpretationes’ (perhaps meaning in various languages) of the Pentateuch, kept in the well-stocked library of Georgius Cantacuzenus, a servant of the Orthodox patriarch Meletius. 56 I was unable to identify this with any more specificity. 57 Casaubon, Novi Testamenti libri omnes. The Notae are on 363–453. 90 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic familiar with Robertus Stephanus Filius’s edition of the New Testament (1569), the Antwerp Polyglot, Sebastian Münster’s Hebrew-Latin edition of 1546, and Luther’s Latin edition.58 There was, in other words, an enormous body of biblical philology available to the translators and revisers. This scholarly apparatus had been built up over the course of the preceding hundred years and drew heavily on Hebrew studies. What is astounding about the States’ Translation is that all this work had been collected and was available to a team of scholars assembled in one of the Republic of Letters’ capitals, Leiden. Again, Leiden shows itself to be a major centre of biblical philology in the first half of the seventeenth century. The two teams of revisers had to deal not only with the texts of the Old and New Testaments, but also with the annotations. Precisely how much annotation should be provided was a matter of dispute. The text had to be made accessible, but at the Synod of Dordrecht it was decided to keep the annotations in the margin to a minimum. However, if one opens to the first page of the States’ Translation of Genesis, the first verses of chapter 1 are surrounded by a forest of commentary: a synopsis of the entire book of Genesis, a synopsis of Genesis 1, and twenty marginal notes on the first seven verses (see Figure 1). To an even greater extent than the revisions of the translations, the changes made in the annotations reveal that the revisers regarded the translators’ linguistic analysis and historical contextualization as being far from perfect. Moreover, when it came to matters of variants and textual criticism, it was particularly hard to assent to a note in the margin.

The Spirit of God and Bodily Things

Take, for example, that first page of Genesis. It is explained in the margin that the ‘Spirit of God’, which moved upon the face of the waters in verse 2 was the Holy Spirit, not the wind, which had not yet been created. ‘Moved upon’ is translated sweefde (‘glided over’ or ‘hang above’), but the marginal note says ‘or moved’, and explains that God’s spirit hovered over the waters so that, due to His power, creatures would be able to spring forth from them, just like a bird who had to brood her eggs and then, after they hatched, had to keep the chicks under her wings so they could grow.59 Remarks such as these encompass much more than what was envisioned in the guidelines decided at Dordrecht. This comment was both learned in its understanding of a Hebrew verb, and accessible in its use of imagery. The revisers left this part of the explanation intact, and changed only the first half of the note. Glossing sweefde, the comment in the Autographon reads:

58 Van Itterzon, Franciscus Gomarus, 334–5. 59 With a reference to Deuteronomy 32:11: ‘As an eagle stirreth up her nest, fluttereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh them, beareth them on her wings.’ Fig. 1. The first page of the States’ Translation (1637). Image by courtesy of Leiden University Library (shelf mark 1194 A 5). 92 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

Or moved itself: meaning in order to keep the lump of the earth, in which all corporeal things were mixed, and to give it power, and so that in this way wonderful creatures are produced from it, \to keep the first essence and shape of the earth and the waters, as it then was, so that wonderful creatures would be produced from it through the power of the Spirit/.60 In the revised version, the ‘lump of earth’ has been replaced by the ‘essence [wezen] and shape of the earth’, which is less specific. ‘Corporeal things’ would have raised philosophical questions (corpora being a central term in natural philosophy) and has been left out, as has their ‘mingling’, perhaps because the mention of a ‘mingling of bodily things’ would potentially prompt questions about animal procreation in relation to creation.

God and Idols

Other notes give evidence of the antiquarian mind set of the translators and revisers, shown, for example, in their interest in the history of idolatry, a budding subgenre of biblical philology in the Dutch Republic.61 In 1 Kings 15:13 mention is made of an idol in the woods. The (slightly corrected) Autographon reads: Yes, even his mother Maachah, he removed her, that she be no longer queen, because she had made an horrible 24\atrocious/ idol in a grove: and Asa rooted out her horrible \atrocious/ idol, and burnt it at the brook Kidron.62 Annotation 24 glosses ‘atrocious’: 24The Hebrew word means ‘trembling of the limbs, and fear in the heart.’ Thus is this idol named, for due to the atrocity of his face and his abominable idolatry it scared people both heart and soul, and they served him with both types of fear. Some identify him with the heathen idol Priapus, others with Pan. See also 2 Chronicles 15:16.63

60 Autographon, ad Genesis 1:2 (note 8): ‘Ofte beweeghde sich: verstaet om den clomp der aerde, in den welcken alle lichamelicke dingen vermenght waren, te onderhouden, ende crachten te geven, en dat soo treffelicke schepselen daer uyt voortghebracht souden worden om\ het eerste wesen ende gestalte der aerde ende wateren, so die doe was, te onderhouden, op dat soo treffelicke schepselen door de cracht des Geests daer uijt voortgebracht souden worden./ Het is \schijnt/ eene gelijckenisse \te zijn/, genomen vande vogelen die de eyers broeden om de jonckskens daer uyt te doen voortcomen, ende daer na met hare vleugelen over de selve sweven, om die te koes- teren en op te queecken. Siet Deuter. 32.11.’ 61 See Introduction, ‘Biblical philology in the ‘Golden Age’. 62 Autographon, 1 Kings 15:13: ‘Ia selfs sijne moeder Maacha die settede hy oock af, datse geene Coninginne meer en waere, om dat sy eenen 24affschouwelicken \afgrijselicken/ Afgodt in eenen bosch gemaeckt hadde: oock roeyde Asa uyt, haeren affschouwelicken \afgrijselicken/ Afgodt, ende verbrandde [hem] aende beke Kidron.’ 63 Statenvertaling, at 1 Kings 15:13: ‘24Het Hebr. woort beteeckent bevinge der leden, ende vreese des herten. Soo wort desen Afgodt genaemt, om dat hy door de grouwsaemheyt sijnes gelaets ende Mobilizing Biblical Philology: The States’ Translation (1619–1637) 93

Notes like these are reminiscent of the biblical antiquarianism of John Selden, who discusses this ‘idol’ in a relatively short chapter (four pages) in his De diis Syris, II.5. Selden pointed out that the Hebrew word for ‘idol’, miphletseth ,’Kings 15:13; 2 Chronicles 15:16), was formed from the verb ‘to shudder 1 מִ פְ לֶ צֶ ת) phalats. He referred to an explication by the rabbi Levi ben Gershom that this name was given to the idol ‘because of the tremor and the many calamities which he brought to those who worshipped him’.64 Selden defended the use of profane sources by stating that only those who had no idea of letters would condemn their utility in explaining the divine word.65 Daniel Heinsius, editor of the second edition (1629) of De diis Syris, defended the same method in the introduction to his Aristarchus sacer, as we see in chapter 4. Therevisers, then, adopted this kind of antiquarian, or perhaps even ethnographic, context. But the notes were not only explicative in linguistic and historical ways: they also gave theological guidance, and sometimes even proffered specifically Calvinist readings. Maarten Verduin has demonstrated how in the annotations accompanying the Song of Songs, not only was the text interpreted christologi- cally and in a generally Protestant manner, but sometimes the annotations can be seen as Calvinistic, in particular where the annotations clarify verses in terms of the elect.66 Such guidance was given all the more emphatically in the annotations on the New Testament.

3.4. REVISING THE NEW TESTAMENT

In 1645, Ludovicus a Renesse remembered several of the discussions among the revisers of the New Testament translation. Parallels from the Apocrypha and from profane authors, such as ‘Plutarch, Pliny, Vegetius, Josephus, etc.’, were to be used very sparingly, and never without further annotation. But Renesse also relates that some of the revisers thought it better to leave out any such parallels, as was the editorial practice in the KJV, ‘in which they are said to have been occupied for twelve years labouring on it and adorning it, providing us their example’. As we have seen, it is not known which Greek text of the New Testament the translators took as their point of departure; the revisers used the 1588/1589 Stephanus edition, with Beza’s annotations. One of the most peculiar aspects of schandelicke afgoderye de menschen beyde nae ziele ende lijf verschrickte, ende sy hem met beyderley schrick dienden. Eenige houden hem voor den Afgodt by den Heydenen genaemt Priapus, andere voor Pan. siet hier van oock 2. Chron. 15.16.’ See also Van den Berg and Thijs, ‘Statenvertaling’, 35. ideo quod tremorem affert et לפי שהוא מכיא פלצות וצרות לעובדין‘ :Selden, De diis Syris, 299 64 calamitates multas eis qui eum coluere’. 65 ibid., sig. **4r. 66 Verduin, Canticum Canticorum, 402–8, 410–34, and 438. 94 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic the entire project is the absence of any reference to Elzevir’s famous Textus Receptus, presumably prepared in the first edition of 1624 by none other than Daniel Heinsius, under the very noses of the translators. The second edition of 1633 also came out in Leiden and although the preface was by Heinsius, it was Jeremias Hoelzlin who was responsible for the text.67 Perhaps the 1624 edition was not deemed as significant as the Stephanus edition of 1588/1589.68 More is known about all the existing translations that the revisers consulted. The revisers cross-checked the first-line translation with the Greek, and compared it with the text of the Deux Aes Bible. The New Testament translation resembled the Deux Aes Bible much more closely than the Old Testament translation.69 But the revisers also used other editions of the source text, for they decided not to observe nor annotate the large number of evident different readings in various Greek exemplars, lest the self-evident credibility and the stability of Holy Scripture would suffer on account of it and an excuse would be given to hair- splitting or the minds of the readers be blindly distracted. Yet whenever some notable variety occurred, we carefully inspected the best copies of the Greek editions and always placed our judgement modestly in the margin with the addition of the word alternatively.70 In other words: the revisers were unwilling to jeopardize the authority of the Bible by exposing the instability of its text—an instability that was apparent from critical editions of the Greek text. The rule was not carved in stone, however: if the variant could not be ignored (notabilis varietas), they chose to signal it. Of course, the question is: when could a variant reading no longer be ignored?

67 De Jonge, ‘Jeremias Hoelzlin’. 68 Hoelzlin, in 1633, probably did not do more than collate the 1624 Elzevir edition with the Stephanus edition of 1587 (i.e., a Stephanus edition different from the one used by the revisers); see De Jonge, ‘Jeremias Hoelzlin’, 122. Whatever text the translators of the New Testament took as their basis, they are likely to have known of Heinsius’s activities. For while they were busy translating John, Heinsius was working on his Aristarchus sacer, a commentary on Nonnus of Panopolis’s paraphrase of John. The translators seem to have been unaware of Heinsius’s very relevant prolegomena, which bore the title Dissertation on the origin, progress, and use of true criticism amongst the ancients, both in the remaining disciplines, as primarily in theology (Heinsius, ‘De verae criticae apud veteres, ortu, progressu, usuque, cum in caeteris disciplinis, tum, in Theologia praesertim, dissertatio,’ in Heinsius, Aristarchus Sacer, 1627, sigs *8r -********8r). The revisers of the New Testament translation, in 1634 and 1635, seem not to have benefitted from Heinsius’s Sacrae exercitationes, which appeared in 1639, but on which he worked for almost a decade. The relation between Heinsius and the States’ Translation is discussed briefly in chapter 4. 69 The Deux Aes New Testament translation had been prepared by the Calvinist Johannes Dyrkinus. See De Bruin, De Statenbijbelen zijn voorgangers, 302. 70 Renesse, Commentariolus, 136: ‘Obvias nimis in variis exemplaribus Graecis diversas lectiones non placuit observare nec annotare, ne hac ratione αὐτοπιστία et ἀσϕαλεία S. Scripturae labefactaretur, et cavillationibus ansa daretur, animive lectorum temere distraherentur; sed si notabilis aliqua ocurrebat varietas, diligenter optima Graecae editionis exemplaria inspeximus et nostrum iudicium modeste ubique ad marginem per adiunctum vocabulum anders apposuimus.’ Mobilizing Biblical Philology: The States’ Translation (1619–1637) 95

As we will see, even the pericope of the adulterous woman was silently left intact. This was in accordance with the revisers’ critique of Giovanni Diodati’s Italian translation: The Italian translation of a very learned and most honourable brother of us in Christ from Savoy may be more vigorous in annotating variant readings, but on account of that is said to have satisfied the curious readers more than the judicious ones and therefore has not enjoyed equal acceptance in the churches who use that language.71 Diodati, that is, might have thought that judicious minds could have been trusted to choose a particular reading, but in fact his policy turned out to be counterproductive. The revisers used other tools: the parallels listed in the 1556 New Testament translation by Johannes Utenhovius (1520–1563) were deemed useful in many instances, but the greatest amount of help was provided by Piscator’s German translation: Of great support was also the translation by Johannes Piscator, in its last version together with his numerous own manuscript additions. These were acquired and supplied to us by the Illustrious and Almighty States General from Piscator’s heirs. In them, Piscator corrected, explained, and expanded his own prior editions in many places.72 Thanks to the States, the revisers had access to valuable unpublished sources from one of the leading spirits of Calvinism. The Syriac version they decided to ignore, relying on the authority of Claude Saumaise: We disapproved everywhere of the Syriac translation, which for no reason is by many forced upon the Christian world because it is regarded as firstborn (e.g., by Fabricius Boderianus) or by others as very ancient and made in the first centuries after the age of the apostles. Mister Saumaise could hardly believe (this is what was told us there [i.e., in Leiden]) that it dated from the sixth century. This can be proved by the Syriac chapter headings and other arguments. It will become clear that in twenty and more places the translator did not understand the Greek text.73

71 ibid., 136: ‘Viri cuiusdam doctissimi et reverendi in Christo fratris in Sabaudia versio Italica in annotanda varietate lectionum luculentior quidem est, sed illa ratione curiosis magis quam iudiciosis lectoribus dicitur satisfecisse nec propterea aeque accepta Ecclesiis illam linguam intelligentibus.’ 72 ibid., 137: ‘Magno etiam adiumento fuit versio D. J. Piscatoris ex ultima eius recensione cum multis M.S. additamentis, quae nobis per Ill[ustrissimos] et Praepot[entissimos] Ordines Generales ab eius heredibus impetrata et suppeditata sunt, in quibus non paucis in locis suas priores editiones correxit, illustravit et auxit.’ 73 ibid., 138: ‘Ubique etiam Syriaca versio explosa est, quae temere a multis tanquam primoge ni[t]a (ut a Fabricio Boder[i]ano) vel ab aliis ut antiquissima et primis seculis post Apostolorum tempora nata, orbi Christiano obtruditur. D. Salmasius vix putat, sic nobis ibi narrabatur, esse sexti seculi. Syriacis κεϕαλαίοις et aliis argumentis id ostendi potest. Viginti et amplius locis patebit 96 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

Like the revisers of the Old Testament, the New Testament gatekeepers discussed both the translation and the annotations. Sometimes they had to manoeuvre with caution, due to possible social or theological repercussions. Working on Matthew 25:27 (on usury), for example, the revisers had a long discussion on usury and interest. Renesse concluded that for a good conscience it was easier to see what should be avoided than what may be done.74 The marginal annotation neutrally explains the meaning of the Greek word tokos and points out that usury can be either fair or unfair.75 Shortly after the publication of the States’ Translation, the subject of usury would explode onto the public scene. The United Provinces was built on trade in money and on interest. Saumaise published three books about it, and theologians and legal scholars voiced their disagreement with Saumaise loud and clear. The controversy was not yet full-blown in 1637, but the issue had always been a sensitive matter.76 The translators and revisers were often in agreement. Take, for example, the discussion of the Eucharist. There, a condemnation of the doctrine of transubstantiation was easily maintained by the revisers, but explanations which raised questions instead of solving them were cancelled. The revisers had little to comment on the notes of the first-line translators regarding the Eucharist. For Matthew 26:26–29, Mark 14:22–24, Luke 22:4–20, John 6:54–56, and 1 Corinthians 11:23–25, they left most of the annotations intact. Where the original annotation on Jesus breaking the bread in Matthew noted that the parallel passages in Luke and Corinthians had ‘having thanked’ instead of ‘having blessed’, the revisers thought it necessary to add that ‘some Greeks book have this here as well’, which shows that they apparently did not agree with this variant.77 In an annotation to 1 Corinthians 10:16, τὸ ποτήριον τῆς εὐλογίας ὃ εὐλογοῦμεν οὐχὶ κοινωνία τοῦ αἵματος τοῦ Χριστοῦ the cup of eulogy which we eulogize, is the communion of the blood of Christ

interpretem non intellexisse textum Graecum.’ Guido Fabricius (or Faber) Boderianus, or Guy Lefèvre de la Boderie, worked (alongside his brother Nicolas, Guillaume Postel, and Franciscus Raphelengius Sr) on the edition of the Syriac New Testament in the Antwerp Polyglot. See Schenker, ‘The Polyglot Bibles’, 776; Dunkelgrün, ‘The Multiplicity of Scripture’, 121. This conscious rejection of one translation in the Antwerp Polyglot shows that the translators did have access to the famous polyglot, presumably William of Orange’s presentation copy in the University’s library. 74 Renesse, Commentariolus, 138. 75 Statenvertaling, ad loc. (note 19): ‘Gr. tokos, waer door allerley vrucht ofte winste van’t gebruyck des gelts wort beteeckent, welcke altemet in’t goede, altemet in’t quade genomen wort, na dat de winste redelick ofte onredelick is. siet voorder Luc. 19.23.’ 76 Price, Dutch Culture in the Golden Age, 63–64; Nellen, Hugo de Groot, 417–418. 77 Autographon, at Matthew 26:27: ‘Lucas 22.19. ende Paulus 1.Cor. 11. vers 24. in plaetse van gesegent hebbende, gebruycken het woort gedanckt hebbende: \gelijck sommige Griecksche boecken hier oock hebben./ So dat segenen ende dancken ofte danckseggen voor een \selve/ sake genomen worden, ende beteeckenen het broodt, als oock daer na den wijn, van ’t gemeyn gebruyck afsonderen, ende door dancksegginge tot Godt, heyligen ofte tot een heylich gebruyck toe- eygenen: gelijck Gen. 2.3. den sevenden dach van Godt gesegent ende geheylicht wort.’ Mobilizing Biblical Philology: The States’ Translation (1619–1637) 97 there is a grammatical explanation of the Greek ‘eulogize’, addressing whether it meant ‘to bless’ or ‘to give thanks’. In the first reading, the cup is an object of the verb ‘to bless’; in the second interpretation, the object ‘cup’ had to be transformed into an instrument via the preposition ‘with’: ‘the cup with which we give thanks’.78 The States’ Translation indicated, between square brackets, that the Greek verb ‘eulogein’ could mean ‘to give thanks’ and ‘to bless’, and combined the two readings: The cup of thanksgiving, which we [giving thanks] bless, is that not a community of the blood of Christ?79 This was an honest but awkward admission that the Greek was unclear in a passage concerning the Eucharist. The grammatical clarification in the note was followed by an explicit condemnation of transubstantiation, which clearly directed the reader away from a Catholic reading of the text. It provided various cross-references to parallel readings, which indicates that the States’ Translation was meant to be a study tool. We have moved quite a distance from the resolution at Dordrecht to keep annotation to a minimum and to refrain from theological interpretation. In the comment on 1 Corinthians 11:23, a sentence was cancelled from the commentary, apparently because it could cause more confusion than clarity. Want ick hebbe van den Heere ontfangen ’t gene ick ook u overgegeven hebbe, dat de Heere Iesus in den nacht in welcken hy verraden wierdt, het broodt nam. For I have received from the Lord that which I have also handed over unto thee, that the Lord Jesus in the night in which he was betrayed, took the bread. Here the original comment on ‘from the Lord’ explained: and not from the people (Galatians 7:6) This has happened either when he was taken up into the third heaven (2 Corinthians 12:3–4) or through other revelations which the Lord Christ often did unto Paul. Here the revisers corrected the reference ‘Galatians 7:6’ (Galatians has only six chapters!) to Galatians 1:12, and they crossed out the sentence about the third heaven: and not from the people Galatians 7:6 \1:12/ This has happened either when he was taken up into the third heaven (2 Corinthians 12:3–4) or through other revelations which the Lord Christ often did unto Paul.80

78 Renesse, Commentariolus, 139. 79 Statenvertaling, ad loc: ‘De drinck-beker der danck-segginge, dien wy [danck-seggende] segenen, is die niet een gemeynschap des bloedts Christi?’ 80 ibid., ad 1 Corinthians 11:23: ‘63 Namelijck. ende niet van menschen. Galatians 7.6 \1.12/. Dit is geschiet, ofte als hy inden derden hemel opgenomen is geweest 2. Corinthians 12.3.4 ofte door andere openbaringen die de Heere Christus selve aen Paulum dickwils gedaen heeft.’ 98 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

The amended version did two things: it avoided having to explain what the ‘third heaven’ was (see 2 Corinthians 12:2, not verses 3–4), and it sounded more secure by replacing the somewhat ambiguous ‘either . . . or’ construction with a version of the passage that gave one explanation only. The ‘bread’ in John 6:32 (‘but my Father giveth you the true bread from heaven’81) is only briefly glossed, and the reader is referred to a note on John 6:54: That is, the true spiritual and heavenly bread, of which the manna was merely a figure or a shadow; just as truth is often opposed to figures. John 1:17; Hebrews 8:2.82 The comment on John 6:54 (‘Whoso eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood’) makes it clear, although not explicit, that this should not be taken literally: I.e., who believes in me, as is explained above, verse 47.83 Changes to the text are minor: ‘Drinckt daer alle uyt’ (foregrounding the cup: ‘Drink from this all of you’) in Matthew 26:27 was changed to ‘Drinckt alle daer uyt’ (‘Drink all of you from it, foregrounding the agents’), and ‘dat ick voortaan daer van niet eten en sal’ in Luke 22:15 (‘that I henceforth will not eat from it’) became ‘dat ick niet meer daer van eten en sal’ (‘that I will not eat from it any- more’). Other changes are merely orthographic.84 Here translators and revisers were easily in accord. Neither the Eucharist nor the doctrine of transubstantiation were specifically bones of contention within the Calvinist Church. It was apparently thought better not to wade into explicit dialogue with Catholic transubstantialist and Lutheran consubstantialist interpretations of the Eucharist, but to silently steer the reader away from a Catholic reading. The translators and revisers likewise had not so much to comment on the famous pericope of the woman taken in adultery (John 7:53–8:11). The passage is not attested to in some of the important manuscript traditions.85 As we have seen above, the pericope is found in John (7:53–8:11), but not in Matthew and the other two Gospels.

81 ‘maer mijn Vader geeft u dat ware broodt uyt den hemel’. 82 Statenvertaling, ad loc.: ‘D. het recht geestelick ende hemelsch broot, waer van het manna maer een figure ofte schaduwe geweest en is: gelijck waerheyt dickwijls tegen figuren gestelt wort. Ioan. 1.17. Hebr. 8.2.’ Here, ‘figures’ seem to stand for a concept rather than a metaphor. The point is that ‘truth’ is often rhetorically used in opposition to certain concepts. In John 1:17 this is the law (‘for the law was given by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ’) and in Hebrews 8:2 the ‘sanctuary’ is juxtaposed (rather than opposed!) to the ‘true tabernacle’ (‘a minister of the sanctuary, and of the true tabernacle, which the Lord pitched, and not man’). 83 ibid., ad loc.: ‘D. die in my gelooft, gelijck boven verklaert wordt vers 47.’ Verse 6:47 says, ‘He that believeth in me hath everlasting life’, which does not, incidentally, explain anything about the status of those ‘who eat my flesh and drink my blood’. 84 See the list of orthographic rules in Heinsius, De ‘resolutien’. 85 See Keith, ‘Recent and Previous Research on the Pericope Adulterae’. Mobilizing Biblical Philology: The States’ Translation (1619–1637) 99

It is included in the States’ Translation without any comment: no reader would have suspected that by 1637 opinions were divided on the authenticity of the passage, as is shown in chapter 4, in the discussion of Daniel Heinsius’s biblical philology. Including or leaving out the passage was of no theological consequence and would not change the picture of Jesus as painted in the Gospels, and as it was part of the tradition, it might as well be included. Gomarus thought that its absence was caused by a misinterpretation of a passage in Eusebius. Eusebius was of the opinion that the pericope was genuine and not an addition by Papias, but his argument had been misinterpreted and the pericope was consequently left out in some versions of the work. Another explanation adduced by Gomarus is that many Church Fathers, including Origen and Chrysostom, failed to mention the pericope, which raised the suspicion that the pericope was unknown to them and had therefore been added later. As Beza had done, Gomarus consistently referred to the interpretations of Erasmus, whom he admired but often disagreed with.86 The translators and revisers show an awareness of the Hebraisms in New Testament Greek, and inform readers of this peculiar character of the Greek in the New Testament. This had already been observed by Scaliger (see chapter 1) and by Arminius and Drusius (chapter 2), and it would be the subject of a controversy between Heinsius and Saumaise (chapter 4). But apart from providing such grammatical and linguistic clarifications, the translators, and in particular the revisers, also tried hard to stabilize the text of the bible by discussing its transmission, as for example in the case of the famous Comma Johanneum (1 John: 5:7–8). The changes that the revisers made to the initial translation served primarily to guide the reader towards a Reformed, and sometimes even specifically orthodox Calvinist interpretation. In the process they stabilized the text of 1 John by vouching for the historicity of the Comma Johanneum. They acknowledged the text-critical problems with the Comma, but addressed these in such a way that little ammunition was given to antitrinitarian interpretations.87 In the case of Romans 8:29–33, as I have shown elsewhere, the revisers advanced the doctrine of predestination and election, stressing the innate corruption of man, and emphasizing the privileged state of the elect.88 In the discussion of James 2:21–22, the translators steer the readers away from a straightforward Catholic interpretation of the relation between faith and works. The Autographon shows the revisers to have made considerable changes to the initial lengthy note of the translators, in order to make clear that man is justified not through works, but by faith.89

86 Gomarus, Opera, 416. 87 Van Miert, ‘Making the States’ Translation’, 454–6. For a history of the discussion on the Comma Johanneum, see McDonald, Biblical Criticism. 88 Van Miert, ‘Making the States’ Translation’, 456. 89 ibid., 457–62. 100 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

3.5. THE USE OF THE STATES’ TRANSLATION

The resolution to refrain from dogmatic interpretations in the comments meant, according to De Bruin in 1937, that the comments would remain silent about doctrinal differences with the Remonstrants, but not about the dogmas of the Roman Catholic Church. De Bruin singles out the anti-Catholic comments in the margins of Revelation.90 Renesse reasoned that from Acts 8:20 there followed a condemnation of simony, which might well have been recognized as a direct salvo against the Catholic Church.91 But some dogmatic remarks also concerned intra-Protestant issues, in particular relating to the Troubles of the Twelve Years’ Truce. Renesse reported that the annotations now and then refuted the arguments of Conrad Vorstius, accused of being a Socinian, although Vorstius was never mentioned by name in actual commentary.92 De Bruin, occasionally does detect an anti-Remonstrant argument.93 Sevenster singles out the anti-Remonstrant interpretations occasioned by Romans 9:11 and Philippians 2:13.94 He also observes that the annotations continuously showed the Calvinist viewpoint and attacked Catholic interpretations. Some wordings in the annotations echo quite strongly the Heidelberg Catechism.95 After the States’ Translation was published, people at first continued to use the Deux Aes Bible, but within approximately fifteen years the new version was commonly in use in Dutch households.96 The new Authorized Version’s rapid gaining of currency is made clear from a number of pamphlets published and republished in the 1640s and 1650s. Later editions of these publications sometimes apologized for not having replaced the vernacular biblical quotations with the new translation now available, or proudly proclaimed that they had.97 Precisely because of its authorized status as a vernacular Textus Receptus, the States’ Translation also proved to be a Trojan horse. In the most widespread and commonly used book in the Netherlands, in the Calvinist, most authoritative, and most public version possible of the Bible in Holland, biblical philology was omnipresent in its linguistic and historical-antiquarian scope. Even textual

90 De Bruin, De Statenbijbel en zijn voorgangers, 307. 91 Renesse, Commentariolus, 138–9. 92 Renesse, Commentariolus, 144. 93 De Bruin, De Statenbijbel en zijn voorgangers, 307. 94 Sevenster, ‘De Statenvertaling en hare kantteekeningen’, 303. 95 ibid., 303–5. 96 Van den Berg and Thijs, ‘Statenvertaling’, 37. On the linguistic influence, see Van der Sijs, Taal als mensenwerk, 136–42. See also Heinsius, De ‘resolutien’. 97 Episcopius, Uytlegginge, introduction, fol. (0)5v: ‘geciteerd uyt de oude overzettinge, nadien de nieuwe, doen deze predication gemaakt zij, noch niet in druk was.’ Teellinck, Wraeck-Sweert. (Cf. Rogge, Beschrijvende catalogus, vol. 2:1, 107). Spranckhuysen, Des iaers 1629 (cf. Rogge, Beschrijvende catalogus, vol. 2:1, 112). Sibema, Salomons sweerdt, title page: ‘verbetert nae de nieuwe oversettinghe des bybels’ (cf. Rogge, Beschrijvende catalogus, vol. 2:1, 121). Bucanus, Christelicke Institutie: ‘In desen vierden druck zĳn dese twee Tractaten de aengetogene Schriftuyr- plaetsen getrouwelick, nae de Nieuwe Oversettinghe des Bybels, gestelt.’ Cf. Rogge, Beschrijvende catalogus, vol. 2.2, 156. Mobilizing Biblical Philology: The States’ Translation (1619–1637) 101 criticism crept into its margins. The philological apparatus was used to explain the translators’ choices, but in doing so, it drew attention to the fact that humans were forced to make such choices. Although the text is presented as solid and stable because not every variant was singled out, the frequent identification of variants by the word ‘alternatively’ (anders) signalled to every attentive reader that the Holy Spirit had failed to guide the transmission of the text in the same perfect manner as it had inspired the tongues of the prophets and the hands of those who had written down their stories for the first time. Thus inadvertently highlighting the complexities of the biblical text, philology did not automat ically lead to confessional clarity. Indeed, as we see chapter 6, the States’ Translation’s marginal comments on the ambiguous meanings of Hebrew and Greek vocabulary were often appealed to during the 1640s in the controversy of men with long hair. With the States’ Translation, biblical philology itself had suddenly been translated into the vernacular. Perhaps one cannot say that it was now in everybody’s hands. After all, most readers ignored this apparatus: for daily use, they relied on cheap editions without the marginalia. And the substance of most of the learned comments was bound to have been lost on many readers anyway. But access to the more heavily annotated ‘mother’ version was fairly easy for anyone eager to consult it, assuming that almost every preacher and parish owned a copy. As Jetze Touber has shown, the States’ Translation gained a sacrosanct status as a vernacular Textus Receptus to many orthodox Calvinists.98 When Spinoza attacked the infallibility of Scripture in his Tractatus theologico-politicus (1670), great care was taken by the Reformed Church, in 1673–1674, to correct a minor mistake in the text of the States’ Translation, so as not to expose the States’ Translation to accusations of imperfection.99 Another remarkable feature of the history of the making of the States’ Translation is the importance attached to the Apocrypha. In the discussion at Dordrecht, the delegates voted against Gomarus’s radically orthodox proposal to dismiss the Apocrypha. The States’ Translation offered the ideal possibility of writing the Apocrypha out of orthodox tradition. But the majority of the delegates, following the determination of the KJV, acknowledged the importance of the history and tradition of the Apocrypha: breaking with this tradition was a bridge too far. In the history of its making, and in the Troubles of the Twelve Years’ Truce, other traditions—as represented, for example by the Heidelberg Catechism, the Belgic Confession, and the Canons of Dordrecht—were deemed nearly as important as the Bible. The phrase sola scriptura may have implied a

98 Touber, Spinoza and Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic, chapter 2, section 2.1, ‘The scripturarii around Alting’. 99 Touber, Spinoza and Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic, chapter 4, section 4.2, ‘Scripture Walled by Dogma’, ‘Spinoza and the States’ Translation’, n. 24. 102 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic secondary status for the articles of faith, but such a hierarchy was not made explicit: the vernacular Bible—i.e., the product of a team of accomplished philologists—and the articles of faith were seen as a Calvinist package deal. The sacrosanct status of the States’ Translation was confirmed by the ritual public inspection, taking place once every three years, of the Autographon, by delegates of the provincial synods and of the States General.100 Meanwhile, in Leiden not only the translators and revisers had involved themselves with biblical philology. In the period when the translators and revisers worked on the States’ Translation, the Leiden professor Daniel Heinsius supervised the publication of Elzevir’s editions of the New Testament in 1624 and 1633, and worked on two major works of biblical philology. In the final stage of the States’ Translation, Heinsius was asked to give his opinion, but by then the work was practically complete. Besides, Heinsius needed all his time for his Sacrae exercitationes, and had no opportunity to counsel the translators of the States’ Translation. He was asked a second time to assist, this time to help the revisers; but he excused himself again, being much too busy with his Sacrae exercitationes.101 However, after the Synod of Dordrecht in 1618–1619, which had drafted a series of credal documents to which ecclesiastical and administrative officials in the Dutch Republic were obliged to subscribe, and the publication in 1637 of an officially authorized vernacular translation of the Bible with explanatory annotations, the public Church had for all practical purposes succeeded in creating a new tradition—which severely limited the potential for innovative translations and interpretations of biblical texts.102 Jetze Touber shows how authoritative the States’ Translation was in the second half of the seventeenth century and how anxious the Reformed Church was to confirm and maintain its sanctity.103

100 ibid. chapter 4, section 4.2, ‘Scripture Walled by Dogma’, ‘Spinoza and the States’ Translation’, n. 25. 101 See Curators and Burgomasters to Heinsius, 18 November 1637, and Heinsius to Curators and Burgomasters, 29 November 1637 (Molhuysen, Bronnen, vol. 2, 317*–19*). Sellin, Daniel Heinsius, 40–1, clearly relied on this last letter of Heinsius in concluding that Heinsius was involved in the States’ Translation. Following Heinsius’s manner in speaking of Beza, De Jonge, without mentioning Sellin’s name or his book but referring only to the recent biography of a vir eruditus, proved this statement wrong; see De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 95. By November the States’ Translation had been printed, proofread, presented, and published. I have found no mention of Heinsius’s name in any of the archives of the translators and revisers of the States’ Translation as far as I have inspected them. Sellin mentions a written apology by Heinsius, in response to a reminder from the Curators and Burgomasters dated ‘14 November’, in which Heinsius stated that the Province of Holland had appointed him to the board of revisers. This, however, seems to refer to Heinsius’s letter of 29 November 1637, which is clearly an answer to the Curators’ summon to Heinsius, dated 18 November 1637 (not 14 November). 102 Preus, Spinoza, 17–20; Van der Wall, ‘The Religious Context of the Early Dutch Enlightenment’, 52–3. 103 Touber, Spinoza and Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic, Introduction, ‘The Bible in the Dutch Reformed Church’ and ‘This Book’. 4

The Biblical Philology of Daniel Heinsius (1619–1640)

Away then with the not quite safe and all too slippery and dangerous sentiment that ‘all authority of the Word of God and of the sacred text is jeopardized and collapses if it would be admitted that, in the course of time and through the imperfection and carelessness of transcriptions, various and multiple readings have crept into the text’. For if this statement is upheld and accepted, indeed all authority of the word of God is overthrown and collapses, because it is easy and obvious to demonstrate that those readings are various and multiple—something which I have demonstrated so far, and which I will continue to do in what follows. —Louis Cappel, ca. 16341

4.1. HEINSIUS: LEIDEN’S STAR

Daniel Heinsius, as Scaliger’s star pupil and as a counterpart to Hugo Grotius, is squarely at the centre of this book. He was widely recognized as a professor of Greek, history, and poetry before he turned to biblical scholarship, a speciality that was steadfastly conquering the Republic of Letters as the most challenging humanistic science of the day. Heinsius produced two massive tomes display- ing his New Testament scholarship, his versatility in Greek, and his evident mastery of Hebrew. Yet the results of his studies were diffuse. Heinsius subjected himself to the control of the professors of theology of his own university, and he

1 Cappel, Critica sacra, 301: ‘Facessat ergo non satis tuta, nimisque lubrica atque periculosa sententia Periclitari et concidere omnem verbi Dei et sacri textus auctoritatem, si concedatur in eum irrepsisse, lapsu temporis, et descriptorum vitio atque incuria varias et multiplices lectiones, ea enim posita, atque recepta evertitur plane et concidit omnis verbi Dei auctoritas, facile enim et obvium est demonstrare varias illas et multiplices lectiones, quod hactenus fecimus, et porro in sequentibus facturi adhuc sumus.’ When the Critica sacra appeared in print in 1650, the work had been finished for at least sixteen years. 104 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic was reticent with his textual criticism. Instead, he concentrated on his own double programme, which he thought he inherited from Scaliger. Although Heinsius had kept himself aloof during the Arminian controversy, he was in the Gomarist camp right from the start, and he consistently maintained this allegiance during the tumultuous second decade of the century.2 In 1609, Grotius noticed that Heinsius had charged Arminius with akatalepsia (inability or unwillingness to understand).3 That as late as 1614 Grotius asked Heinsius to borrow the acts of the Greek church councils,4 proves that Arminians and Gomarists at least agreed on the importance of the earliest history of the Church as a model for the modern Protestant institution. Meanwhile, Heinsius developed an interest in Hebrew and Arabic. From Johannes Buxtorf the Elder’s dedication to Heinsius of his manual on Hebrew epistolography in 1611,5 to Heinsius’s lobby for a professorship for Buxtorf’s son in 1626 and subsequent years, it would appear that he wholeheartedly supported the study of Hebrew philology.6 Heinsius’s interest in Arabic had first been aroused by his acquaint- ance with Adriaan Willemsz or Hadrianus Gulielmus, a favourite of Scaliger and Casaubon.7 In 1612, Thomas Erpenius was appointed chair of oriental languages in Leiden due to Heinsius’s support. He wrote a Hebrew grammar to help Heinsius master the language. Through Erpenius, the famous English orientalist William Bedwell visited Leiden in 1612, and was granted access to Scaliger’s papers by Heinsius.8 After the close of the Synod of Dordrecht, Heinsius returned to Leiden University, where in 1619 he delivered an anti-Remonstrant Homilia in which he attacked the five articles of the Remonstrance. This oration shows him to be a competent theologian. But the studies he pursued after Dordrecht are much more akin to those of the philological tradition he had been educated in. If this homily marked the beginning of Heinsius’s public interest in the Bible, as has

2 Sellin, Daniel Heinsius, 23 and 32. 3 This charge is reminiscent of Beza’s same accusation against the sceptical Castellio: ‘What is left’, Beza asked, ‘but to revive Academic akatalepsia and despair of certain knowledge, so that each person follows what seems to him to resemble the truth?’ Cited after Rummel, The Confessionalization of Humanism, 71. For Heinsius’s akatalepsia, see Grotius to Heinsius, 21 October 1609, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 1, 134, no. 156. 4 Grotius to Heinsius, beginning of June 1613, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 1, 245–6, no. 269. 5 Heinsius to Buxtorf Sr, 21 June 1611 (Basel, Universitätsbibliothek, Ms. G I 59, fol. 245r). 6 Van Rooden, L’ Empereur, 83; Heinsius to Buxtorf Jr, 17 September 1629 (Basel, Univer sitätsbibliothek, Ms. G I 59, fol. 248r–v); Heinsius to Buxtorf Jr, 29 October [1629] (Basel, Ms. G I 59, fol. 250r). This letter bears no year, but should be dated 1629, as it mentions the recent death of Buxtorf Sr, who died on 13 September 1629. Heinsius continued to advise the younger Buxtorf on his dedication policies: see Heinsius to Buxtorf Jr, 29 May 1631 (Basel, Universitätsbibliothek, Ms G I 59 fol. 246r–v), 31 July 1631 (Basel, Universitätsbibliothek, ms G I 59, fol. 251r), and 9 August 1632 (Basel, Universitätsbibliothek, Ms G I 59, fol. 252r). 7 For Gulielmus (and his untimely death), see the long and moving letter from Casaubon to Scaliger, 19 July 1604, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 5, 364–7. 8 Sellin, Daniel Heinsius, 100–2. The Biblical Philology of Daniel Heinsius (1619–1640) 105 been argued,9 this interest was subsequently pursued via philologica. If anything, the oration on a verse of John was a prelude to Heinsius’s Aristarchus sacer (1627) on the entire Gospel of John, and even to the Sacrae exercitationes (1639),10 which deal with the whole of the New Testament. These two works forever secured Heinsius’s fame as a biblical critic. Together with his involvement with the publication of the Greek text of the New Testament by the Elzevirs in Leiden and his support for the second edition of John Selden’s De diis Syris (Leiden, 1629), these works reveal Heinsius’s indebtedness to textual criticism and linguistic analysis. I discuss the Aristarchus sacer and the Sacrae exercitationes in the paragraphs that follow. As we will see, Heinsius did not use textual criticism to propose changes to the received text of the New Testament. His linguistic approach had two altogether different goals. The genre of biblical annotations provided Heinsius with a medium to combine diverse goals in one work. This makes his biblical philology diffuse and difficult to characterize as a consistent effort with a clear programmatic purpose.

4.2. HEINSIUS’S BIBLICAL PHILOLOGY

Heinsius’s acknowledgment of historical contexts, including antiquarian approaches, is rather limited, and does not merit more than a passing mention. His curiosity towards John Selden demonstrates his interest in antiquarian biblical scholarship, but also highlights his failure to adopt this for himself.

Textual Criticism

Henk Jan de Jonge has concluded that Heinsius was no systematic collator of manuscripts, no ‘collector of variants’, and that as such he was different from Robertus and Henricus Stephanus, from Beza and from Grotius.11 Heinsius’s version of the famous Elzevir edition of the New Testament (1624) did not offer a new recension of the text, but was instead a reprint of one of the Stephanus– Beza editions (presumably that of 1587).12 Heinsius’s lack of systematic collation is also noticeable from his leaving it to someone else, namely the extra-ordinarius professor of Greek Jeremias Hoelzlin, to prepare the second edition of the Elzevir text. Hoelzlin collated his text (the famous Textus Receptus) systematically with Henricus Stephanus’s vicesimo-quarto edition of

9 Sellin, Daniel Heinsius, 35. 10 John 17:9 is mentioned only in passing in Heinsius, Aristarchus sacer, 78, and not at all in his Sacrae exercitationes. 11 De Jonge, ‘The “Manuscriptus Evangeliorum antiquissimus” ’, 293. 12 For Heinsius’s involvement, see De Jonge, Heinsius and the Textus Receptus, 65. 106 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

1587 (which reprinted Beza’s text), and occasionally with Robertus Stephanus’s older folio edition of 1550 and 1551.13 Although Heinsius was clearly involved in the edition as an advisor and active supporter, it has proved hard to establish Heinsius’s responsibility for the constitution of the Textus Receptus. The reason why is no mystery: variants when compared with Beza’s edition (either of 1565 or 1587, or perhaps even the same version that the States’ Translation revisers decided to use in 1634: the 1588/1589 edition) are too few to provide even indirect evidence of Heinsius’s involvement. One can observe only that the relatively small number of changes dovetails with Heinsius’s opinion that: not to one single manuscript, nor to more than one, should be more attributed than justified or that no changes should be made in what has been accepted, and that before all, it should be warned that no one takes it upon himself to [change the text] on the basis of conjecture [ex ingenio] and practice the art of stage-acting, lest he gives us his own private version of the text [propriam editionem].14 The philologist had to respect the text, and not enact his own version of it. Still, in his Aristarchus sacer, Heinsius made it clear that textual criticism was central to the study of the biblical text. The very title of the work suggests as much, Aristarchus of Samothrace (ca. 220–143 bc) being the archetype of the critic. But despite what this title might suggest, the work is not a treatise on the art of biblical criticism (although the long Prolegomena has much to say on the subject) but an edition, with Latin translation and commentary, of the Greek poetic paraphrase of the Gospel of John, written by Nonnus of Panopolis around 400 ad. The work forms a bridge between Heinsius’s youthful interest in poetry, and more specifically in late antique Greek and early Byzantine poetry, and his biblical preoccupations later in life. Heinsius’s Prolegomena should be part of any history of scholarship. As an ars critica sacra and a history of scholarship in its right, it opens with a discussion of the earliest ‘critics’ in ancient Greece. Although Aristarchus was the arch-critic, Aristotle before him was also a great critic, not just because he reviewed previous philosophers, but also because he made emendations to Homer for Alexander the Great. Chronology was one particular point on which Aristotle, Callimachus, and Eratosthenes put special emphasis15—a point that Heinsius no doubt stressed because chronology had come into fashion during Heinsius’s formative years, under the influence of Scaliger and of Denis Pétau’s

13 In 1971, De Jonge listed nine circumstances which made it probable that Heinsius did prepare the 1633 text (De Jonge, Heinsius and the Textus Receptus, 65 (see also De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament,’ 91–4), but he later revoked his tentative conclusion on the basis of new evidence: see De Jonge, ‘Jeremias Hoelzlin’, 1978, 122 and 125; and De bestudering, 22. 14 Heinsius, ‘Prolegomena in Exercitationes sacras,’ 6; cited also by De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 93; and by Bloemendal and Nellen, ‘Early Enlightement or High Philology?,’ 117, n. 24. 15 Heinsius, ‘Prolegomena ad Aristarchum’, sig. **[1]v. The Biblical Philology of Daniel Heinsius (1619–1640) 107 monumental chronological work, which appeared in 1622. Chronology would maintain its central position in biblical philology in the seventeenth century, as we see in chapters 7 and 8. Hardly surprisingly, Scaliger is mentioned by Heinsius himself, in relation to the central characteristic of the critic: the art of clearly distinguishing (krisis).16 One example of a chronological issue is Heinsius’s treatment of Christ’s crucifixion in the commentary on Nonnus, a standard problem in New Testament exegesis. As we have seen, Scaliger had explained the divergent accounts in Mark (third hour) and John (sixth hour) as resulting from ‘an error due to the corruption of manuscript copies’. Heinsius agreed: ‘Some ancient authors, including Theophylactus said that the number 3 was changed into the sign 6. I admit that such things occurred often due to the negligence of scribes.’17 He then allowed himself a digression about the sixth hour of the Hebrew day, which marked the end of a day’s third quarter and the beginning of its fourth.18 After the appearance of the Aristarchus sacer, Jacobus Revius wrote to Heinsius that he thought the sixth hour marked the end of the second and the beginning of the third quarter. Likewise, Heinsius had the third part ending at the sixth hour, but, according to Revius, this should be the ninth hour, as Heinsius himself wrote shortly afterwards in his own text.19 This point was acknowledged by Heinsius, who in the second edition of the Aristarchus sacer (1639) replaced his phrase ‘marks the beginning of the fourth quarter’ with a longer explanation.20 In the Prolegomena, Heinsius made clear that textual criticism of the Bible had an extensive pedigree, implying that his own work stood in a long and venerable tradition. Heinsius praised the Church Fathers for their textual criticism, singling out Origen, Jerome, and Photius. Origen displayed his knowledge of dialectics, geometry, music, rhetoric, and philosophy in general in his comparison of Bible translations in his Hexapla. The way to deal with the corrupted biblical text was to use asterisks, obelisks, and lemnisks as reference markers, as Origen had done, as had Aristarchus before him.21 Jerome, too, had practised textual criticism on the Sacred Text, as he himself said in his commentary on Paul’s Epistle to Titus, where he engaged in discussions of variant readings and interpretations (or translations: interpretationes). In the process, Heinsius notes, Jerome also criticized the stylistic and doctrinal errors of other Church Fathers.22According to Heinsius, the most exemplary critic was the patriarch Photius, who voiced sound opinions on theologians and also identified corrupt

16 ibid., sig. **4v. 17 Heinsius, Aristarchus sacer, 501. 18 ibid., 502. 19 Revius to Heinsius, 17 April 1628 (Deventer, Stads- en Athenaeumbibliotheek, Ms. Revius, Adversaria, no. 20): ‘Rogo te amplius cogites num, quod ais 502, hora hebraeorum sexta tertium diei quadrantem claudat, quartum inchoet. Omnino enim, ni fallor, secundum claudit, tertium inchoat. item τρίτον λάχος in sextam horam desinere, desinit enim in nonam, ut ipse mox animadvertis.’ 20 Heinsius, Aristarchus sacer, 944. 21 Heinsius, ‘Prolegomena ad Aristarchum sacrum’, sig. **5v. 22 ibid., sig. **5v. 108 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic passages in the Bible, where errors were the fault of scribes or had even been made on purpose by heretics.23 Having thus assured himself of the authority of three Church Fathers who were well respected by Protestants, Heinsius dedicates two pages to the relation between critica and grammar, rhetoric and dialectics, then two more pages about grammar and the ars critica, after which he returns to the status of grammar in antiquity. At one point Heinsius declares that the best version of the text is often that which has received as little emendation as possible, a principle he would reiterate later in life. At this point, he introduces Jewish scholarship in a positive light: the Masorah had numbered the letters and words in the Bible, which stabilized the text. The Masorah specialized in vocalizations and variants, and they gave order to the books of the Old Testament. Heinsius notes that some think the Masorah did too little, but he himself seems not to agree.24 Relying on the authority of Gregory and Basil, Heinsius argues that every small detail of the Sacred Text, even a syllable, is worth scrutinizing.25 ‘So it was on good grounds that the famous Doctor of Churches [Basil] demonstrated in the same book [On the Holy Spirit] that the grave heresy of Aetius regarding the Trinity originated in three small words, from, through, and in.’ 26 In this manner, Heinsius defends the right of critics to deal with Holy Scripture.27 After all, the Church Fathers themselves ‘collated ancient manuscripts and emendated corrupt manuscripts’.28 In the introduction to the Sacrae exercitationes of 1639, however, Heinsius professed that he aimed to explain difficult passages (as he also wrote to Selden in 1633),29 and to test the exegesis of the Church Fathers. In fact, half of this introduction is dedicated to arguing that the Church Fathers were very sloppy in their quotations from the Bible and that they cannot be trusted as witnesses to the early stages of the biblical text’s constitution.30 Heinsius expressly looked for what he called the sensus literae and sought to avoid controversies. He deplored theological controversialists, likening them to ‘wild animals clashing in the theatre’.31 After all, the Holy Spirit permitted only one interpretation, not a plurality: ‘the author himself, the Holy

23 ibid., sig. **6r. 24 ibid., sig. ***2r–v. 25 ibid., sig. ***8r. 26 ibid., sig. ***8v: ‘Ut non sine causa magnus ille Ecclesiarum Doctor ita iudicaverit, qui eodem libro, gravissimam Aeti de Trinitate haeresin, ex paucis vocibus ἐξ οὗ, δι’ οὗ, ἐν ᾧ, ortam esse, ostendit.’ 27 ibid., sig. ****3r. 28 ibid., sig. ****3r: ‘Hi ipsi [sc. Origen, Theodoretus, Jerome and others] quos . . . antiquos contullise codices, corruptos emendasse . . . constat.’ 29 Heinsius to Selden, 17 September 1633 (Oxford, Bodleian Library, Ms. Selden supra 108, fol. 114r–v, postscript): ‘In Exercitationibus ad Novum Testamentum, toti sumus. Et iam liber maxi- mam in molem excreuit. Non enim locos tantum difficiles ac prope depositas examinamus, sed & interpretationem ultimam expendimus.’ 30 Heinsius, ‘Prolegomena in Exercitationes sacras’, 6–19. See also De Jonge, De bestudering, 23. 31 Heinsius, ‘Prolegomena in Exercitationes sacras’, 39: ‘Feras inter se commissas in theatro dicas.’ The Biblical Philology of Daniel Heinsius (1619–1640) 109

Spirit, . . . nowhere varies in doctrine’.32 Despite Heinsius’s assurance that he has been very careful with the Greek text of the New Testament, he nonetheless quotes a phrase of Augustine, to the effect that the Greek text was not immaculate: And if I come across something which seems contrary to the truth, I can be sure that nothing else is the case than that the manuscript was corrupted or that the translator did not get what was said, or that I have not understood it.33 Jerome also complained about Greek manuscripts, Tertullian deplored the passages that had been corrupted by heretics, and Ambrose wrote about the falsi- fications of people who added interpolations to the divine scriptures: In the first place, the Greek codices do not have ‘which the son does not know either’.34 But it would not surprise me if people who interpolated the divine scriptures falsified this too.35 Heinsius rejected ‘those who want to see themselves permitted to use the freedom which they are glad to seize on in the profane authors, in casting doubt on the sacred authors’, which shows he was well aware of Scaliger’s view that the status of the New Testament as a sacred text prevented him from treating it freely, as he would a pagan text.36 But on the other hand, he was acutely conscious of ‘the great variation between the manuscripts (of which the Fathers of the Church themselves continually speak)’.37 ‘For no one can doubt that the Greek and Latin Fathers of the Church, depending on the various manuscripts which they used, often deviated considerably from the usual reading. It would be possible for scholars to compile a large collection of variant readings on many passages from their writings.’38 Heinsius, that is, put openly in writing that corruption had taken place in the transmission of the biblical text. The Church Fathers were not only sloppy, but also used manuscripts that differed from one another and from the usual reading

32 ibid., 5: ‘autor ipse S. Spiritus . . . in doctrina nusquam variat’. 33 Heinsius, ‘Prolegomena ad Aristarchum’, sig. *****8v: ‘Ac si aliquid offendero literis, quod contrarium videatur veritati, nihil aliud, quam vel mendosum esse codicem, vel interpretem non assecutum esse quod dictum sit, vel me minime intellexisse, non ambigam.’ 34 Heinsius quotes these words in Latin (‘quod nec filius scit’), translated from the Greek. 35 Heinsius, ‘Prolegomena ad Aristarchum’, sig. *****8v. Ambrose, De fide ad Gratianum, 5.7: ‘Primum veteres codices Graeci non habent “quod nec filius scit”. Sed non mirum si et hoc fal- sarunt, qui scripturas interpolavere divinas.’ For the quotation, see Ambrose, Omnia . . . opera, 110. 36 See the phrase in the Secunda Scaligerana, 399, cited at the beginning of the preface to this book. 37 Heinsius, Sacrae exercitationes, 523: ‘ . . . tanta Codicum varietate (de qua ipsi quoque toties loquuntur Patres) . . . ’. Heinsius might have been thinking of Jerome’s famous dictum in his preface to the gospels, cited at the beginning of the Introduction, above. 38 ibid., 523: ‘ . . . cum dubitare nemo possit, quin pro aliis atque aliis, quibus usi sunt, codicibus, longius saepe a vulgari lectione tam Graeci quam Latini Patres recedant. E quorum scriptis, magna lectionum, neque paucis in locis varietas, colligi ab eruditis posset.’ De Jonge, De bestudering, 22, speaks of Heinsius’s ‘greatest possible reticence’. 110 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

(vulgaris lectio), which caused conflicting testimonies.39 The consequence is that the Fathers could not be trusted as sound witnesses to a more pristine text—a point he argued at length in the Prolegomena to the Sacrae exercitationes, and a vision diametrically opposed to Scaliger’s.40 Heinsius was reluctant to change anything in the text, but the corruptions could be discussed in the commentary. Heinsius’s acknowledgment that the text of the New Testament might have been corrupted in certain places was received with suspicion by the Leiden professor of theology Constantin L’Empereur, who acted as a sort of censor to make sure that Heinsius remained within the boundaries of orthodox Calvinist theology. L’Empereur read the drafts of the Sacrae exercitationes and offered comments once every few days.41 As Gerardus Vossius from Amsterdam reported to Hugo Grotius in 1638, then in Paris: Constantin L’Empereur is busy revising the printed pages of Heinsius’s Sacrae exercitationes. Partly, I believe, because of the Hebrew words which come into play, partly lest something is spread which would render him less acceptable as a specialist of sacred matters, in particular in those matters which are disputed in the schools. L’Empereur tells me that the typesetter has already arrived at the notes on the Epistle to the Romans.42 L’Empereur admitted that citations found in the texts of the Church Fathers sometimes differed from what appeared in the transmitted text. But more strongly than Heinsius, he emphasized that the transmitted text was unequivo- cal and felt it would be disastrous to destabilize the text in such cases only because there are variant readings elsewhere of a given citation: If it were once allowed, that because of a deviation which occurs elsewhere, we should create it, even where there is not one variant, and even with such a difference of letters, what will then be certain in the Holy Scriptures?43 Strictly speaking, L’Empereur does not deny that the different manuscripts of the sacred text present different readings, and that in those cases it might be necessary to choose a variant or assume a reading by conjecture, for here he speaks only of unnecessary changes or textual adaptations. But he is obviously anxious that the certainty and, hence, the authority of Holy Writ would suffer under too much interference with the text on account of philologists like Heinsius. Van Rooden discusses several examples of Heinsius’s treatment of the text, two of which I single out because they show Heinsius’s preference for philology

39 See also De Jonge, De bestudering, 51. 40 On the basis of this passage Van Rooden (L’Empereur, 139, n. 169) concluded that ‘Heinsius followed Scaliger, who had more confidence in the citations in the Fathers, than in the MSS of the NT.’ The way I read it, Heinsius did not agree with Scaliger at all. 41 ibid., 136. 42 Vossius to Grotius, 6 January 1638, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 9, 21, no. 3414. 43 Cited after Van Rooden, L’Empereur, 140, n. 170. The Biblical Philology of Daniel Heinsius (1619–1640) 111 above theology, and his acceptance of the plurality of interpretations allowed for by the text. These are Luke 24:32 and John 14:28. For our argument, we can dispense with the details of Heinsius’s discussion. Suffice it to relate that in the first instance, Heinsius admits to being puzzled and refers to ‘various expositors’ that showed doubts about the passage. Heinsius presents his own solution, which rested on the Hebrew background of the Greek passage in Luke.44 L’Empereur was particularly stung by Heinsius’s phrase, ‘although it is a most elegant passage, I am not a little confused, because some interpreters doubt [it], and do so reluctantly, although it is very easy’.45 L’Empereur exclaimed: ‘The expositors ought not to have doubted, for the Evangelist explains himself!’46 He came up with a theological clarification, where Heinsius had presented a linguistic explanation. In the case of John 14:28, Heinsius listed various inter pretations, whereas L’Empereur tried to force upon Heinsius his own reading. But in vain: Heinsius held to his stance that there was a plurality of interpretations, suggesting he agreed with two of these.47 Although in these cases Heinsius showed that it was possible to interpret the text in various ways, he did not state that the text itself was corrupted. In the second type of annotation, Heinsius explicitly admitted that the text was corrupt, and this worried L’Empereur even more seriously. Examining Acts 7:15–16, Heinsius suspected that some incompetent scribe or commentator had filled a gap in the text. As if Heinsius knew he was treading on thin ice, he added that ‘the great Augustine warns us that the first thing to do, when we get stuck in the Sacred Scripture, is to diligently consider whether the manuscripts are corrupted’.48 Heinsius’s conjecture was rejected by L’Empereur, who preferred to take refuge in other arguments to harmonize apparent contradictions, than to intervene in the text.49 Heinsius’s discussion of a famous crux in Matthew is worth considering at some length, for it shows that he applied sophisticated historical contextualization in order to save the gospel text. He reported on it in a letter to his regular Dordrecht correspondent Jacobus Roverius (de Roovere) of 1629:

44 Heinsius, Sacrae exercitationes, 198–99. 45 ibid., 198: ‘[Q]ui elegantissimus sane locus, neque parum nos torsit. cum interpretes nonnulli, ne libenter quidem, quod tamen facillimum, dubitent.’ I depart here from the translation in Van Rooden, L’Empereur, 137: ‘this passage, although elegant, has troubled us not a little; since various expositors of this place doubt it (and that not because they wish to do so, which is easily possible)’. 46 ‘Interpretes non debuerent dubitare: quia Evangelista se explicat’, cited and translated by Van Rooden, L’Empereur, 137–8 (n. 161); again, no foliation or source is given, only the reference to the passage in Heinsius that L’Empereur objects to. 47 Heinsius also cited the paraphrase of this pericope by Nonnus, which he characterized as ‘peculiar’. See Heinsius, Sacrae exercitationes, 236. 48 Heinsius, Sacrae exercitationes, 277 (not 227 as in Van Rooden, L’Empereur, 138, n. 163): ‘ . . . quam prudenter magnus Augustinus moneat, Primum esse, si in Sacris haereamus, diligenter cogitare, utrum corrupti sint codices’. 49 Van Rooden, L’Empereur, 138–9. 112 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

In our Sacred Exercises or Observations I am daily progressing with care. I have already examined Matthew 27, where the name of Jeremiah is thought to have replaced the name of Zechariah. Although I fear that those who think so are quite wrong.50 In his Sacrae exercitationes, Heinsius writes at length on this passage, ‘which for so many years has occupied so many illustrious minds’.51 In chapter 2 we discussed the explanations of Beza, Scaliger, Junius, Drusius, and Gomarus (above, section 2.5, ‘Johannes Drusius’). The States’ Translation simply mentioned in a marginal note that ‘these words are not found in the Prophet, but the contents are’.52 We will discuss Heinsius’s treatment of the problem in some detail, because it shows how textual criticism, linguistic knowledge, and insight into historical contexts all worked together in Heinsius’s approach of the biblical text. Without specifying any of his predecessors, Heinsius summarized that ancient authors thought there was a scribal error, and that others came to the conclusion that the prophecy in Zechariah showed too little similarity with the one referred to in Matthew. Heinsius argues this is not the case: the reference to Jeremiah’s prophecy in Matthew 27:9 is clearly to Zechariah 11:13: Zechariah 11:13: ‘And the LORD said unto me, Cast it unto the potter: a goodly price that I was prised at of them. And I took the thirty pieces of silver, and cast them to the potter in the house of the LORD.’ Matthew 27:9–10: ‘Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by Jeremiah the prophet, saying, And they took the thirty pieces of silver, the price of him that was valued, whom they of the children of Israel did value; And gave them for the potter's field, as the Lord appointed me.’ The problem was that Matthew mentioned a potter’s field, bought for thirty pieces of silver, which Judas had thrown back into the Temple before committing suicide out of remorse for his betrayal of Jesus. There was no reference in Zechariah to any potter’s field, only to a potter. All attempts to read anything of a field into the prophecy in Zechariah have been justly ridiculed by the Jews, Heinsius holds. The first problem was what precisely was meant in Zechariah potter) in the phrase ‘Cast them to the potter’. The word was) יָ צַ ר by the word translated as χωνευτήριον (smelting furnace) in the Septuagint, but Aquila of Sinope translated it into Greek as πλάστης (creator). Jerome had translated it as statuarius (sculptor, or maker of statues). But the word plastès had a much

50 Heinsius to Roverius, 13 January 1629 (Leiden University Library, Ms. PAP 2 [4]): ‘In sacris nostris sive Exercitationibus sive Observationibus, quotitide cum cura pergimus. Iam examinamus locum capite Matthaei vig. & septimo, ubi nomen Jeremiae pro Zachariae suppositum puta- tur. Quanquam metuo, ne admodum fallantur qui sic sentiunt.’ 51 Heinsius, Sacrae exercitationes, 83: ‘Hic autem locus ille est, qui a tot jam annos tot illustres animas exercuit.’ 52 States’ Translation, 1637, at Matthew 27:10, note 11 (fol. 16r): ‘Dese woorden en staen wel niet by den Propheet, maer den inhoudt van dien.’ The Biblical Philology of Daniel Heinsius (1619–1640) 113 broader meaning than the potter (κεραμεύς) of which Matthew spoke. The second problem was, as we have said, that there was no mention of a field in Zechariah. Heinsius pointed out that the only field spoken of in Jeremiah was in 32:6–15, but that concerned Jeremiah’s purchase of a field in Anathoth, which had belonged to his cousin Hanameel, the evidence of which was to be put into an earthen vessel (32:14). This, however, was hardly a clear reference for Matthew to refer to: there is talk neither of thirty pieces of silver nor of a potter, and the passage evidently concerned another field. Heinsius then begins his explanation: the only field of death one could think of was, no doubt, in the Valley of the Son of Hinnom (Gehenna, just outside Jerusalem, where corpses and refuse were burnt, and where once, according to Jeremiah 32:35, the people of Judah and Jerusalem burned children as sacrifices to Moloch). This field was situated at the potter’s gate (Jeremiah 19:2; ‘east gate’ in the KJV). So this is the field Matthew must be referring to: a potter’s field, which in Jeremiah’s words would have once been the field of blood (i.e., ‘the valley of the slain’, in Aramaic; cf. Jeremiah 19:6: ‘valley of slaughter’). This same field, or one neighbouring it, was bought by the high priests. It was bought by the blood of the innocent Christ, and thus the prophecy was fulfilled that it was the field of blood. So it is crystal clear why Matthew had referred to Jeremiah. Matthew’s reference is a confused conflation of two prophecies. He associated Zechariah’s words so closely with those of Jeremiah that he mentioned Jeremiah’s words and ‘broke off’ (interrumpat) those of Zechariah. How could this have happened? The Syriac version noticed the problem and simply left out the name of Jeremiah. But the name should be retained. What has been lost in transmission is the word ‘and’. The text originally must have said ‘as was said by Jeremiah and the prophet’. So Augustine, who explained the problem by assuming a lapse of memory, had been wrong, and Jerome, too, who thought that Matthew was quoting from an apocryphal source. Above all, it is wrong to con- coct the meaning ‘potter’s field’ from the Hebrew word for ‘potter’: that is to confuse a potter with the field of blood. ‘Whoever is surprised that the link could have been omitted, should also be surprised that Robertus Stephanus and others have noted that so many words in this or that manuscript were omitted which do survive in others. Let him then do away with all the variant and discrepant readings, which so many of the ancient Fathers observe time and again.’53 Heinsius, in other words, argued that the text had been corrupted and that a minimal conjectural emendation could save Matthew from committing a mistake. In this creative piece of historical criticism, Heinsius saved the evangelist by blaming transmission. We have discussed it in some detail because it shows

53 Heinsius, Sacrae exercitationes, 87: ‘Qui miratur copulam omitti potuisse, idem a Roberto Stephano ac aliis, tot in hoc aut illo codice omissas, quae in caeteris extarent, annotari voces miretur: tollat denique omnes lectiones varias ac discrepantes, quas tam multi ex antiquis Patribus subinde observant.’ 114 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic how textual criticism, linguistic knowledge, and insight into historical contexts all worked together in Heinsius’s approach of the biblical text. Heinsius was, however, prudent enough not to draw attention to every notorious textual problem. He touched upon the pericope of the adulterous woman in the Prolegomena, but ignored a discussion of the pericope in the Sacrae exercitationes proper, just as the States’ Translation had glossed over it. In the Prolegomena, Heinsius stated that the Church Fathers, the manuscripts, Nonnus, and ‘Syrus’ (i.e., the Syriac translation) did not know the pericope.54 Heinsius admitted that whoever studied the Syriac translation well would come to the conclusion ‘that once the manuscripts varied and that particular places were not read in the same way’. Still, these variants did not endanger doctrine, which the Holy Spirit never allowed to vary.55 Heinsius’s English correspondent Simonds d’Ewes was disappointed: not long after the publication of the Sacrae exercitationes, he wrote Heinsius a letter, showing his bewilderment about the pericope of the woman taken in adultery: although it had a long tradition of inclusion in versions of John, it was not to be found in the three oldest Greek manuscripts. Τhe Syriac version and Nonnus do not have it, as Heinsius had pointed out. Eusebius thought that it was invented by Papias, and Beza cautiously deemed it inauthentic. So what are we to believe? D’Ewes gives the answer himself: we have to believe that the Sacred Scriptures are the word of God, but our belief must be tempered with a very careful sense of discrimination. D’Ewes felt that we should admit that it was not John himself who inserted the pericope. He hoped that Heinsius, perhaps with Scaliger’s teachings in mind, could enlighten him.56 (To the assumption that Heinsius had access to Scaliger’s biblical annotations and the implication that he might have used them, Heinsius answered that he had no such unpublished annotations and never used any.57)

54 Heinsius, ‘Prolegomena in Exercitationes sacras’, 5: ‘Ut nunc de notissimis ne dicam, qualis est in Iohanne adulterae historia; quam ex antiquissimis et Patres quidem pariter et codices ignorant. Inter caeteros et Syrus, ut et Nonnus.’ 55 ibid., 5: ‘Quem eundem Syrum qui cum cura legit atque expendit, variasse et olim codices, nec singulos eodem modo legisse locos, quis negabit? Satis sit, eiusmodi varietates eas esse, ut vel quae necessario credenda sunt non evertant, vel quae non credenda sunt non doceant; quae denique cum scandalo non adducuntur aut periculo. Quod ne fiat, autor ipse S. Spiritus, qui in doctrina nusquam variat, praeivit.’ Bloemendal and Nellen, ‘Early Enlightement or High Philology?,’ 117–18: ‘Heinsius was loath to go into the dogmatic implications of his work, as they rarely refer to terms used in a dogmatic context. . . . [H]e started from the a priori assumption that variants resulting from the complicated process of the transmission of the text did not detract from the essential doctrines in the Bible.’ 56 Simonds d’Ewes to Heinsius, 29 September 1640 (Old Style) (Leiden University Library, Ms. BPL 1920). 57 Heinsius to d’Ewes, [14 May 1642] (Leiden University Library, Ms. BUR F 4; printed in Burmannus, Sylloge, vol. 2, 480). The date of this answer (undated and addressed to ‘NN’ in Burman’s edition) is inferred from d’Ewes to Heinsius, 31 May 1642 (Leiden, UB, BPL 246). For a discussion of Heinsius’s phrasing, see De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 98. The Biblical Philology of Daniel Heinsius (1619–1640) 115

It took d’Ewes’s letter two years to reach Heinsius,58 but Heinsius responded nevertheless. Indeed, Nonnus and the Syriac version leave out the pericope, and so do the great Chrysostom (who had the best manuscripts at his disposal) and Theophylactus. Heinsius was unable to square the pericope with the gospels’ other word on adultery: ‘whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her, hath committed adultery with her already in his heart’ (Matthew 5:28). How could Christ condemn thinking of adultery and not condemn an adulteress caught in the act? The holy fathers, I think, must also have thought of this, when they concluded that this was adduced from the best manuscripts, and slowly, as many other things, crept into the Greek text of the Old Testament [sic; i.e., the New Testament], which does not conform to the Hebrew norm.59 Heinsius leaves the matter there, and we are to understand that he agreed with the ‘holy fathers’ on this point. Whereas Heinsius played down the importance of the periscope, he more forcefully used biblical philology to vindicate existing readings against useless problematizations. An example is a passage in Luke (22:20) on the Eucharist. Here, Heinsius explains an apparent gap in the text as an ellipsis or a concise expression due to the influence of Hebrew. The text of the gospel runs: Likewise also the cup after supper, saying, This cup [is] the new testament in my blood, which is shed for you. ὡσαύτως καὶ τὸ ποτήριον μετὰ τὸ δειπνῆσαι λέγων, Τοῦτο τὸ ποτήριον ἡ καινὴ διαθήκη ἐν τῷ αἵματί μου τὸ ὑπὲρ ὑμῶν ἐκχυνόμενον Heinsius writes that where others have seen difficulties, he detects no trouble at all: The meaning and the entire sentence would be: Τοῦτο τὸ ποτήριον ἡ καινὴ διαθήκη ἐν τῷ αἵματί μου; τοῦτο τὸ ὑπὲρ ὑμῶν ἐκχυνόμενον This [is] the cup, the new covenant in my blood; this which for you is shed.60

58 See Sellin, Daniel Heinsius, 117. 59 Heinsius to d’Ewes, [14 May 1642] (Leiden University Library, Ms. BUR F 4; printed in Burmannus, Sylloge, vol. 2, 480): ‘Ipsum dico verbum Dei et sapientiam, quae simpliciter pronun- ciarat, quicunque mulierem aspicit, ut eam concupiscat, iam cum ea adulterium in corde suo com- misit. Quomodo igitur factum absolvit, qui cogitationem damnat? Quod et in mentem venisse S. S. Patribus existimo, qui ex optimis codicibus suppositum id esse ac paulatim, ut non pauca, in Graecum antiqui Foederis contextum, quae Hebraea norma non agnoscit, irrepsisse iudicarunt.’ 60 The underlined word is not in the actual Greek text of the New Testament, but Heinsius supplies it. 116 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

Hence, ‘τοῦτο τὸ’ should be repeated. . . . This I like better than to think that something should be left out or supplied from elsewhere. For I think that every single tittle of the Sacred Scripture should be maintained, as far as possible, unless the manuscript or a necessity prescribes something else. However, I do not belong to the group of people who would carelessly allow solecisms or bad style in the Scriptures. But if these should be considered concise Hebraisms or elliptic passages, what then could be dispensed of in these [words]?61 Heinsius said he always approached the text with respect (religiose).62 The language of the New Testament is beautiful and majestic in its own right, even if it is neither Greek in its phrases nor Hebrew in its words.63 Heinsius also confronted the status of the Septuagint, warning that its importance should not be overestimated. The Apostles did not use this Greek translation. Origen’s edition of the Septuagint in the Hexapla made clear how careful one should be in using it, when comparing it with either the Hebrew text or the Targumim. Even if Origen filled in the gaps in the Septuagint from the Greek translations of Theodotion, Aquila of Sinope, and Symmachus the Samaritan Ebionite, only the critic is able to see that something original in the Septuagint is still extant. And the critic is he who is able to judge these matters by taking the Hebrew text as the measure. The Greek Church Fathers demonstrated that one could do very little without the Hebrew text. So the critic is he who is best equipped to handle the Hebrew and Greek texts. Heinsius observes that the Fathers often engaged in disputes, among each other and with heretics, about letters and words. Proverbs 8:22, for example, reads in the Septuagint: κύριος ἔκτισέν με ἀρχὴν ὁδῶν αὐτοῦ εἰς ἔργα αὐτοῦ The Lord created me in the beginning of his way, before his works of old. Here there was a dispute whether one should read ἔκτισέ (created) or ἔκτησέ (possessed), for the Hebrew text read qanah (possessed). The reading ‘created’ brought Arius to deny the divinity of Jesus, for it was generally accepted that Wisdom, who spoke these words, stood for Jesus. And if Jesus was ‘created’ at some point by God, he was a creation of God, and not God. This is to say that a difference of one letter only (an iota or an eta) could cause the Church to split. If only the theologians had had recourse to the Hebrew text! One last example demonstrates that Heinsius thought that the study of the transmission and constitution of the text was intricately bound up with the

61 Heinsius, Sacrae exercitationes, 192: ‘Mens et integra oratio esset Τοῦτο τὸ ποτήριον ἡ καινὴ διαθήκη ἐν τῷ αἵματί μου; τοῦτο τὸ ὑπὲρ ὑμῶν ἐκχυνόμενον. ut τοῦτο τὸ repetatur. . . . Hoc sane malo, quam ut vel eiicienda, vel aliunde hic inserta quaedam existimem. Singulos enim Sacrae scripturae apices, quantum potest fieri et nisi aliud vel libri praescribunt vel necessitas, tuendos arbitror. Sed nec inter eos sum, qui temere vel σόλοικα ὑποσόλοικα in Sacris admittam. Quod, si vel concisi Hebraismi, vel in quibus deest aliquid, eo loco habendi, quid in his iam excusari poterit?’ 62 Heinsius, ‘Prolegomena ad Aristarchum’, sig. ******[1]r. 63 ibid., sig. ******[1]v. The Biblical Philology of Daniel Heinsius (1619–1640) 117 study of Hebrew and Greek semantics. By means of the interpretation of an incomprehensible Greek word (ἀπϕὼ) in the Septuagint version of 2 Kings 2:14, Heinsius argues that the Septuagint translators made many mistakes in their Greek rendering of the Hebrew text.64 The Greeks were often unaware of the alien influences in their own language and therefore interpret words incorrectly.65 Attempts to make sense of the Greek text only made matters worse through Verschlimmbesserungen, e.g., by Procopius. A lack of understanding of the differences among Hebrew, Greek, and Hellenistic led to interpretative chaos.66 Heinsius concluded that the person who knows a language, interprets the single [words] correctly. And who interprets the single [words] correctly (as long as the meanings remain distinguished and divided), divides and distinguishes whatever words occur and has a correct understanding of a foreign phrase. Who is able to do this, explains things and dogmas correctly.67 This conclusion echoes the maxim of his master Scaliger, that all religious strife resulted from a lack of understanding of grammar (a view Drusius echoed as well, as we saw in chapter 2). This position shows the extent to which philologists such as Scaliger, Drusius, and Heinsius believed in the principle of sola scriptura: in the end, the Bible, if interpreted correctly with the tools of philology and grammar, would speak for itself (and, of course, it would then speak in the spirit of Calvin). After the publication of the Sacrae exercitationes, Heinsius attempted to lay his hands on collations from Codex Alexandrinus for a second edition.68 Access to Codex Alexandrinus promised important contributions to the discussion about the authority of the Hebrew Bible with regard to the Septuagint. Grotius and Saumaise also managed to acquire variant readings from the Codex, as we see in chapters 5 and 6. Protestant scholars felt that Codex Alexandrinus could counter the Catholic possession of the other famous codex of the Septuagint, the Vaticanus, on which was based the Roman edition of 1587.69 (The translators and revisers of the States’ Translation consulted this edition, as we saw in chapter 3.) As early as 1633, Heinsius asked Patrick Young to send a transcription of Codex Alexandrinus.70 Young sent him collations from three chapters of Genesis and one from ‘Saint Paul’ (it is not clear from

64 ibid., sig. ****5v. 65 ibid., sig. ****6r. 66 ibid., sig. ****7r–v. 67 ibid., sig. ****8r: ‘Linguam enim qui intelligit, recte singula interpretatur. Qui singula interpretatur recte, si distinctae ac divisae sint significationes, dividit quaecunque occurrunt ac distin- guit, et de phrasi peregrina recte iudicat. Quod qui potest, bene res, bene dogmata exponit.’ 68 Heinsius to d’Ewes, 14 May 1642 (Leiden University Library, Ms. BUR F 4; printed in Burmannus, Sylloge, vol. 2, 480). 69 Lebram, ‘Ein Streit’, 39. 70 Heinsius to Young, 16 May 1633, in Kemke, Patricius Junius, no. 109, 68; Sellin, Daniel Heinsius, 108. 118 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic which epistle).71 Heinsius thanked Young and expressed the wish that Codex Alexandrinus be published.72 In May 1638 he repeated this wish.73 In 1642, d’Ewes wrote that ‘I have resolved to send you shortly variant readings from a very old codex of the New Testament in the Royal Library, written more than a thousand years ago in Greek block capitals.’74 This was a year after d’Ewes publication of variant from Codex Alexandrinus in his Greeke Postscripts of the Epistoles to Timothy and Titus.75 But a revised edition of the Sacrae exercitationes never came about. For Heinsius, textual criticism was not just the study of variants within the same text, but also an investigation into individual words. First, one has to deal with the origin and etymology of a word, then with its meaning, thereafter with its ambiguities and potential obscurity. Only after this research has been completed can one venture a definition, in which genus and species definitions should be separated. Only then can one proceed to a high-level discussion concerning scientiae and disciplinae.76 The study of law, medicine, and theology is much obliged to the critical art of definition. Heinsius writes: The ancient theologians, too, like Eusebius, wrote entire books on places or small words: for they thought that only the one who had studied the interpretation of single words, could define what the work of the theologian is in sacred affairs.77 Heinsius made such remarks, of course, to defend himself in advance against accusations that he, a mere grammarian or criticus, was improperly trespassing in the domain of theology. But he is careful not to claim exclusive rights over the business of interpreting words: ‘For everyone (or the Critic) interprets his own things best’, as long as he continues thinking logically.78 The meanings of individual words cannot be studied without recourse to translations. Such study required the analysis of the differences among languages and the examination of historical context. Thus, the Septuagint mattered to Heinsius, even if it was a defective translation. Even if the currently available version was much more corrupt than the version known to the evan-

71 Young to Heinsius, 30 June 1633, in Kemke, Patricius Junius, no. 111, 70. 72 Heinsius to Young, 17 September 1633, in ibid., no. 113, 71. 73 Heinsius to Young, May 1638, in ibid., no. 132, 81. 74 D’Ewes to Heinsius, 31 May 1642 (Leiden University Library, Ms. BPL 246): ‘Varias ex vetus- tissimo Novi Testamenti in Regia Bibliotheca elementis Graecis capitalibus ante mille annos exarato exemplari MS: Lectiones propediem ad te mittere decrevimus.’ 75 D’Ewes, The Greeke Postscripts. I thank an anonymous referee for bringing this source to my attention. 76 Heinsius, ‘Prolegomena ad Aristarchum’, sig. ***5r–v. 77 ibid., sig. ***6v: ‘Et theologi antiqui, inter quos Eusebius, de locis seu vocabulis Hebraeis, libros ediderunt: quod existimarent, nisi qui interpretationes vocum didicisset, definire, quod in Sacris opus est Theologi, non posse.’ 78 ibid., sig. ***6v: ‘Sua enim quisque optime, aut Criticus, interpretatur, qui a Logico hoc munus mutuatur. Nam hoc instrumentum est, ut dixi.’ The Biblical Philology of Daniel Heinsius (1619–1640) 119 gelists and apostles, it still gave insight into their linguistic universe and therefore helps to avoid confusion. The authors [of the New Testament] conceptualized in their language some things [other than] what they wrote down, and wrote down other things [than] they had conceptualized. Hence it often was from unimportant things that huge controversies arose.79 This was the basic tenet of Heinsius’s most important theory, one that seemed to structure his entire agenda for the next fifteen years.

Linguistic Analysis

Two basic insights informed the linguistic side of Heinsius’s biblical philology. The most famous of these was his theory that New Testament Greek was a Hebraizing Greek dialect spoken by Hellenistic Jews, and not a form of Koine Greek which happened to have been informed by Hebrew influences. Whereas contemporaries had difficulty understanding the precise nature of this ‘theory’, they seemed to have had, surprisingly, less trouble with Heinsius’s second purpose: a consistent critique of the Latin translation of the New Testament by Calvinism’s most important authority after Calvin, Theodorus Beza. Both programmes were inspired, or so Heinsius thought, by the legacy of Scaliger. At the foundation of both programmes lay linguistics: the first was a study in historical sociolinguistics; the second (which followed from it) was a study in translation.

The ‘dialectus Hellenistica’ As has become clear, Scaliger, Arminius, and Drusius had already observed the influences of the Near Eastern languages on the Greek of the New Testament. Heinsius differed, however, in arguing that the Greek was not impure Greek, i.e., not Koine Greek affected by Hebraistic undercurrents. The authors of the New Testament used a form of Greek that was not classical Greek, but was rather the Greek of the Hellenistic translators of the Hebrew Bible, the Septuagint, a language capable of adequately expressing the sense and spirit of God’s Word.80 This biblical Greek represented a language of its own, a ‘dialectus Hellenistica’, which was spoken by Hellenistic Jews who knew no Hebrew or Aramaic. (Incidentally, Drusius had used this phrase already in 1612 in an

79 ibid., sig. ****8r: ‘Cuius [sc. Novi Testamenti] scriptores lingua conceperunt alia quae scriberent, alia scripserunt quae conceperant. Unde non raro e re levi maximae nascuntur controversiae.’ 80 De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 96. 120 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic annotation on Acts 6:1,81) Famously, Claude Saumaise had rejected this label. He argued that New Testament Greek was neither a ‘language’ of its own nor a ‘dialect’. This led to a controversy that dragged on for years, involving Martin Schoock, at the time professor of theology in Utrecht, who came to Heinsius’s defence in private teachings in Deventer in 1640, and Heinsius’s son-in-law, Willem Goesius.82 Heinsius held that if one aims to fully understand the text of the New Testament, it is not enough to merely study Greek authors: one should study the Hebrew language of the Old Testament and its various translations, for the New Testament language is influenced by Hebrew and Syriac. Studying Hebrew and Aramaic is indispensible in learning the lingua Hellenistica.83 For example, the evangelist John thought in Syriac, but wrote in Hellenistic. The problem is that that there are resonances in Aramaic and Syriac that cannot be captured in Greek or Hellenistic translation. Similarly, Origen and Julius Africanus had already argued that the story of Susanna and the Elders was not part of the Hebrew Bible, because, they claimed, it had originally been written in Greek: there was a kind of wordplay in the Greek version that could not be expressed in Hebrew.84 For it is, of course, very unlikely that a translation would include intentional wordplay not in the original text. The same principle applies to John 1:5: And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not. καὶ τὸ ϕῶς ἐν τῇ σκοτίᾳ ϕαίνει καὶ ἡ σκοτία αὐτὸ οὐ κατέλαβεν85 In Aramaic or Syriac, there would be sophisticated wordplay here that is impossible to convey in Greek or Hellenistic. For the word kabbel means to compre- is ‘darkness’, for in the Targum the word kebal (קבל hend, but kebal (qbl or is a form of the verb caligare (‘to be dark or (קבל which looks the same: qbl or) to be blind’).86 Heinsius clearly implies that conceptually, John must have had in mind a play on words: And the light shineth in darkness, and qbl qbl [the darkness was blind]. The text’s interpreter should know whether the Greek of the Hellenists expressed Hebrew or Syriac. He should be able to know whether they referred to the Hebrew Old Testament or to a Greek translation. The reader who fails to

81 De Jonge, De bestudering, 32. 82 Sellin, Daniel Heinsius, 48–9. See also 43–4; De Jonge, De bestudering, 70. 83 Heinsius, ‘Prolegomena ad Aristarchum’, sig. ***4v. 84 Heinsius, ‘Prolegomena ad Aristarchum’, sig. *****[1]v. 85 I have corrected a misprint here, for it says on sig. *****[1]v: ‘καὶ τὸ σκότος ἐν τῃ σκοτία ϕαίνει, καὶ ἡ σκοτία αὐτὸ οὐ κατέλαβεν’ instead of ‘καὶ τὸ ϕῶς ἐν τῇ σκοτίᾳ ϕαίνει καὶ ἡ σκοτία αὐτὸ οὐ κατέλαβεν’. 86 Heinsius, ‘Prolegomena ad Aristarchum’, sig. *****[1]v. See also De Jonge, De bestudering, 32. The Biblical Philology of Daniel Heinsius (1619–1640) 121 distinguish between these languages will not be able to interpret the New Testament correctly. Of course, Heinsius argued, a prospective translator should always have a proper understanding of the source language. The critical theologian who puts on the mantle of translator should correctly express the names, attributes, and personae of God. Nonnus failed in this respect: incorrectly he called God’s eternal son, whom the Scriptures call μονογευῆ (‘only born’), τηλύγετον (‘last- born’). He calls the first person in the deity not father (πατέρα) but parent (τοκῆα), and the third person, the Spirit, not Holy (ἅγιον) but sacred or pure (ἁγνὸν). Nonnus indicates the second person of God as the ‘child’ (παῖς) of God, but whenever the ‘Hellenistic’ language of the New Testament speaks of ‘pais’ it does not mean ‘child’ (as in classical Greek), but ‘servant’, because this ebed). Nonnus’s poetry has no licence to) עֶבֶד word translates the Hebrew word weaken the majesty of God.87 So Nonnus unconsciously Hebraizes: he knew no Hebrew, but through the Hellenistic Greek of the New Testament, Hebrew semantics come through via his Greek. Likewise, he knew no Syriac, but he uses Syriac expressions; he knew no Aramaic, but he Aramaizes. All these influences are to be found in the Hellenistic language of the New Testament, which Nonnus tried to interpret. Nonnus Hellenizes because of the Greek Jews, who used not pure Greek but the lingua Hellenistica. And this is, of course, fertile ground for the critic.88 Heinsius defended the pursuit of biblical philology by stressing its use for dogmatic theology. Understanding the nature of biblical Greek was a prerequisite for the correct understanding of the biblical text. An example may show how philology and theology intersected. In his discussion of John 11:33, Heinsius argued that the Greek word pneuma does not so much mean ‘soul’ or ‘spirit’ but ‘himself’. John 11:33 says of Christ (seeing that Mary, sister of the deceased Lazarus, and the Jews who followed her, were weeping) that ‘he [Jesus] groaned in the pneuma’.89 Those who did not recognize that Greek and Hellenistic are different, are all led astray in the interpretation of the word pneuma. ‘To be deeply moved (ἐμβριμάομαι) in the πνεῦμα’, as the Greek text runs, did not mean, as Chrysostom thought, ‘to castigate one’s πνεῦμα’. The verbἐμβριμάομαι was translated by some as meaning ‘to command with threats’. Chrysostom thought that pneuma itself here meant ‘pertur- batio’. Euthymius followed Chrysostom: ‘spirit here means being affected by disturbance’,90 and so Christ here castigated or suppressed this affliction. But Chrysostom and Euthymius are wrong, says Heinsius. He reviews various

87 Heinsius, ‘Prolegomena ad Aristarchum’, sigs *****5r–*****7r (*****6v): ‘nunquam tantum tribuendum est poesi, ut maiestas Dei enervetur’. 88 Heinsius, ‘Prolegomena ad Aristarchum’, sig. *****8r. 89 Heinsius, Aristarchus sacer, 440–2. 90 ibid., 440: ‘Nam spiritus dicitur hic turbationis affectus.’ 122 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic other interpretations of pneuma, which some Church Fathers see as the Holy Spirit, others as sound reason. All these commentators have made things far too complicated. The solution is quite simple. When in Hebrew one speaks of spirit and soul, one means the person himself. ‘Ruachi’ (‘my spirit/soul’) is the same as the Greek reflexive pronoun ‘myself’. So ‘his spirit, is himself’. Thus, John is saying that Christ ‘was moved in himself’. So the two expressions in the verse in John 11:33: ‘He was moved in his spirit and he was troubled’ mean the same thing. ‘John spoke Hellenistically.’91 Jacobus Revius wrote to Heinsius that he could not accept that pneuma should not refer to the spirit, i.e., the soul of Christ. The text of the gospel at Luke 23:46 (also referred to by Heinsius himself) reads: and having said thus, he gave up the pneuma. Τοῦτο δὲ εἰνπὼν ἐξέπνευσεν. The corresponding passage in John (19:30), ‘παρέδωκε τὸ πνεῦμὰ’ (‘he handed over the pneuma’), is a clear parallel: ‘I have commended.’ There is, then, consistent mention of Christ’s soul or pneuma.92 So the pneuma in John 11:33 refers to the soul, and has no Hebraizing sub-meaning of a reflexive pronoun. Revius was not the only one to criticize Heinsius in this way. As noted, L’Empereur proofread Heinsius’s work to check the Hebrew, but also ‘lest anything in sacred matters, in particular with regard to the controversial subjects, be spread that satisfies someone who is not so intelligent’, as the well-informed Gerard Vossius reported to Hugo Grotius.93 Van Rooden styled L’Empereur ‘a kind of censor, to warn [Heinsius] of giving offence to orthodox feelings’.94 Van Rooden saw seventeen folios covered with notes by L’Empereur on the proofs of Heinsius’s Sacrae exercitationes, some of which were included in the published version.95 Most of these comments concern the addition of rabbinical sources.96 L’Empereur’s notes tell us that Heinsius’s original, erroneous interpretation of

91 ibid., 442: ‘Spiritus eius est ipse. . . .Ἐνεβριμήσατο ἐν ἑαυτῷ . . . Iohannes Hellenistice locutus est.’ 92 Revius to Heinsius, 17 April 1628 (Deventer, Stads- en Athenaeumbibliotheek, Ms. Revius, Adversaria, no. 20): ‘Locum Luc. 23.26 [sic, pro 23.46] notatum tibi 442. πατερ εἰς χεῖράς σου παραθήσομαι τὸ πνεῦμά μου, quo minus de spiritu, id est anima Christi, proprie capiam, a me impetrare nondum possum, cum sequatur: καὶ ταῦτα εἰπὼν ἐξέπνευσεν. quod apud Ioannem est: παρέδωκε τὸ πνεῦμά. Vides παράλλελα esse παρέδωκε et τὸ παραθήσομαι.’ 93 See above, section ‘Textual Criticism’, n. 42. 94 Van Rooden, L’Empereur, 135. 95 Unfortunately, I was unable to consult this source. Van Rooden, L’Empereur, 135, describes it as follows: ‘In . . . a former notebook of his father Antoine, in which the latter had transcribed parts of Calvin’s Institutions, there are seventeen closely written folio pages with notes by L’Empereur on a work, which appears to correspond to Heinsius’s Exercitationes Sacrae.’ Unfortunately, Van Rooden, in this excellent dissertation on seventeenth-century theology, biblical scholarship, and rabbinical studies, gives no details on the whereabouts of this source. It was only when I was proofreading this book that Henk Jan de Jonge (Leiden University) and Joanna Weinberg (Oxford University) managed to locate this notebook. The shelfmark is Archief Bibliotheca Thysiana nr. 1205. The notes are on fols 127r–143r (unnumbered, text only on rectos, with the exception of 128v and 129v). On 143r appears only one paragraph, with critique of Heinsius’ theory of a lingua Hellenistica. 96 ibid., 136–7. The Biblical Philology of Daniel Heinsius (1619–1640) 123 the Hebrew word kbd as ‘a costly thing’ was now replaced by an etymology which held that kbd was a Syricism and proposed instead the reading of jqr (‘a heavy or valuable thing’). Heinsius changed his wording and casually presented the etymology he learned from L’Empereur by writing, ‘it is well known [!] how the word jqr was used . . . in a transferred sense for a valuable thing’.97 L’Empereur was particular helpful in supplying Heinsius with evidence for his theory of the Hellenistic language. Heinsius did acknowledge his help in these matters in the Prolegomena of the Sacrae exercitationes, but not in places such as the original error just mentioned, where he resolutely rephrases what L’Empereur had cautiously suggested as possible alternative explanations. Heinsius in many cases chose to ignore L’Empereur’s misgivings, as Van Rooden shows in most of the cases he cites. Heinsius stood by his philological methods, no doubt because in many cases he did not propose to alter the text, but simply to clarify its obscurities by illuminating the Hebrew or Aramaic background of the New Testament Greek. His linguistic theory, then, did not change the texts, but provided a philological tool that opened up new opportunities to come to grips with their meaning. These need not oppose dogma; they might just as well bolster Calvinist theological interpretations. But that was up to the theologians, of course.

Bashing Beza In 1633, Heinsius wrote to Selden that his Sacrae exercitationes were growing very large, and that he was starting to regard the work as a critique of Beza’s translation of the New Testament.98 He communicated the same sentiments in a letter to Patrick Young, written the same day.99 Whereas L’Empereur had admonished Heinsius not only to castigate Beza when he was wrong, but also to credit him every single time the Genevan patriarch had been correct,100 Heinsius often criticized Beza in his work, although he never mentioned him by name and omitted him from the index of authors (which includes among its names people who are only mentioned indirectly).101 Heinsius referred to him with epithets such as ‘a recent translator’, whose achievement was not such that ‘nobody disagreed with him, including the great Scaliger’.102 Indeed, Scaliger, after having read Beza’s 1582 translation of and commentary on the New Testament, wrote to Claude Dupuy in Paris: If I have time, I will send you a list of mistakes that I found in Beza’s translation and commentary on the New Testament. It is a long list and could make a volume on

97 ibid., 137. 98 Heinsius to Selden, 17 September 1633 (Oxford, Bodleian Library, Ms. Selden S 108, fol. 114r). 99 Heinsius to Young, 17 September 1633, in Kemke, Patricius Junius, 71. 100 Van Rooden, L’Empereur, 140. 101 Heinsius, Sacrae exercitationes, sig. Hhhhhh[4]r. 102 Heinsius, ‘Prolegomena [in Exercitationes sacras]’, 37; cited in De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 95. 124 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

its own. But what I say here is between you and me, and I do not want anyone else to know it. For I have thought of sending them to Beza so that he can correct everything if he makes a second edition.103 Three days later he repeated his statement to Dupuy: When I have time I will write you all the observations I made on Beza’s commentaries on the New Testament. . . . I have made them with the aim of sending them to Beza, if he will ever make a second edition of his commentaries. But I am assured that you will not say a thing to anyone in the world. Anyway, it is not yet necessary, for I have other things to do.104 These pronouncements aimed at some secrecy. They were uttered at the end of 1584, a time when Scaliger was in conflict with another divine from Geneva, Bonaventure Corneille Bertram. Bertram had criticized Scaliger’s De emendatione temporum, which had appeared a year earlier. Scaliger then wrote a defence, which he sent to Beza. At this point, Scaliger needed Beza to keep Bertram in check. When this was later no longer necessary, and Scaliger had moved to Leiden, his critique of Beza became more pronounced. Beza, Scaliger told his students, ‘had no proper understanding of languages’, and in particular ‘he was not learned in Hebrew’. As we have seen in chapter 1, Scaliger thought that the Calvinist patriarch of Geneva too often attacked Erasmus.105 Incidentally, we have seen that Gomarus also, in 1590, proposed to amend Beza’s edition.106 Heinsius inherited Scaliger’s reservations about Beza. He often mentions the Vulgate and Beza in one breath. Take the beginning of Romans 8, which has difficult Greek phrasing with regard to the sinfulness of the flesh. Paul explains that Christians follow the spirit, not the flesh. For the law of the Spirit has set the Christian free from the law of sin and death. Then follows verse 3, which runs: For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh. τὸ γὰρ ἀδύνατον τοῦ νόμου ἐν ᾧ ἠσθένει διὰ τῆς σαρκός ὁ θεὸς τὸν ἑαυτοῦ υἱὸν πέμψας ἐν ὁμοιώματι σαρκὸς ἁμαρτίας καὶ περὶ ἁμαρτίας κατέκρινεν τὴν ἁμαρτίαν ἐν τῇ σαρκί. So God sent his son in the form of a man made of sinful flesh. Here, Heinsius remarked:

103 Scaliger to Claude Dupuy, 30 November 1584 in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 1, 431, ll. 16–21. 104 Scaliger to Claude Dupuy, 3 December 1584, in ibid., vol. 1, 436–7, ll. 33–9. De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 77 (bottom), gives 1586 as the date of this letter, due to an error in Tamizey de Larroque’s edition of this letter. 105 De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 77 and 95, who takes these quotes from Secunda Scaligerana, 231. 106 See chapter 2, section 2.4, ‘Franciscus Gomarus: The Biblical Philologist’, nn. 53 and 54. The Biblical Philology of Daniel Heinsius (1619–1640) 125

A vetus interpres [Jerome] together with the Fathers, who widely followed this or rendered it in the same manner [e.g., Augustine], said ‘in similitudine carnis peccati’ [‘in the likeness of the flesh of the sin’]. Recentior [= Beza]: ‘in forma consimili carni peccato obnoxiae’ [‘in a form entirely similar to the flesh which is exposed to sin’], badly, if I’m not mistaken.107 So here Heinsius criticizes Beza’s somewhat convoluted translation, which made the phrase even more difficult than it already was. Similar examples are to be found on almost every page of the Sacrae exercitationes. Time and again, L’Empereur advised Heinsius not to draw attention to Beza’s faulty interpretations (which L’Empereur called ‘differences of opinion’ rather than mistakes). He warned that Heinsius would provoke resistance. Of course, he was right: Saumaise seized the opportunity to defend Beza against Heinsius’s arrogance.108 The response of the Protestant minister Jean Daillé of Charenton is typical: ‘if you ask me, Heinsius shows too open a passion against poor Mr Beza, whom he lectures as sharply as he did Nonnus in his Aristarchus.’ 109

4.3. HEINSIUS AND SELDEN

Heinsius learned much not only from Scaliger, but also from John Selden, who, as we have seen, was generally regarded to be Scaliger’s English heir.110 From 1625, the two kept up a correspondence. In 1627 the printing press of the Leiden firm of the Elzevirs came up with a plan to produce a second edition of De diis Syris (first published in 1617). No doubt, Daniel Heinsius, the Elzevirs’ ‘unoffi- cial academic adviser and managing editor’,111 was behind this initiative. Selden, like Heinsius, had been deeply influenced by Scaliger.112 One of the main tenets of Selden’s book was that pagan gods had been derived from mis- interpretations of the Hebrew Bible. Selden’s reconstruction of the spiritual world enveloping the events and rituals described in the Old Testament did much to help contextualize the history and interpretation of Jewish customs. Heinsius must have recognized a kindred spirit.

107 Heinsius, Sacrae exercitationes, 356: ‘Vetus interpres cum Patribus, qui id passim secuti sunt, aut eodem modo reddiderunt, in similitudine carnis peccati, dixit. Recentior, in forma consimili carni peccato obnoxiae. Moleste, nisi fallor.’ 108 Van Rooden, L’Empereur, 140. 109 Jean Daillé (Paris) to André Rivet (The Hague), 8 December 1639 (Leiden, UB, Ms. BPL 279, no. 29): ‘[Heinsius] témoigne une passion trop découverte à mon avis, contre le povre M. de Bèze, qu’il chapitre aussi aigrement qu’il avoit fait Nonnus dans son Aristarque.’ Cited from Tulot, ed., Correspondance de Jean Daillé (1594–1670), 45. 110 See Introduction, ‘England, Switzerland, France, and Germany’, n. 80. 111 De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 91; Sellin, Daniel Heinsius, 34. 112 Toomer, John Selden, vol. 1, 212. 126 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

He and the orientalist and theologian Ludovicus de Dieu wrote about the plan to Selden.113 Both of them went over the text.114 De Dieu went on to become an accomplished biblical critic in his own right. He published sets of Animadversiones on the Gospels (1631), the Acts (1634), and the Pauline and Catholic epistles (1646). In these annotations, he systematically compared the Greek text with Syriac, Arabic, and Ethiopian translations, as well as various Latin translations.115 In September 1628, while the typesetters were busy setting the text of the second edition of De diis Syris, Selden acknowledged Heinsius’s support in a new preface, in which he dedicated the work to Heinsius, praising his erudition and judgement, not only in the ‘sweet’ but also in the ‘more sharp’ literary studies, i.e., not only in poetry, in which Heinsius had long proved himself, but also in the more advanced domains of philology. Clearly, biblical philology and antiquarianism were regarded as twin aspects of the cutting-edge humanist science of the day, and Heinsius wanted to be part of it. His repeated encour- agements to Selden to have the book reprinted in Leiden (acknowledged by Selden in his dedication116) testify to the fact that, after having benefitted from being Scaliger’s student, he was now ingratiating himself with Scaliger’s heir. Naturally, Heinsius was taken in by Selden’s new dedication.117 Heinsius kept Selden informed on the progress of his Sacrae exercitationes. The book steered clear of intra-Calvinist controversies, and perhaps this made it more appealing to some of the more philologically inclined and antiquarian- minded scholarly spirits, populating the middle ground of the Republic of Letters. Not without reason did John Selden remark, according to his Table Talk: Lay-men have best interpreted the hard places in the Bible, such as Johannes Picus, Scaliger, Grotius, Salmasius, Heinsius, etc.118

113 De Dieu to Selden, 12 April 1627 (Oxford, Bodleian Library, Ms. Selden supra 106, fols 23–4). We know Heinsius also sent a letter, because both letters were included in a package addressed to Selden by Bonaventura and Abraham Elzevir on 27 July 1627 (Oxford, Bodleian Library, Ms. Selden supra 109 fol. 484): ‘Nous vous envoions pour le present . . . l’aristarchus de Monsr Heinsius, auec l’inclose tant de Monsr Heinsius que Monsr dedieu.’ 114 Heinsius to Selden, 15 January 1629 (Oxford, Bodleian Library, Ms. Selden supra 108 fol.166r–v). 115 De Jonge, De bestudering, 47. 116 Selden, De diis Syris, sigs *2v–*3r: ‘Accedit porro, tuis certe non sine Auspicijs iterato fieri editionem hanc, quam ἐμπαθῶς, ut ad me scribis, desideras.’ 117 Heinsius to Jacob de Roovere, November 1628 (Ms. Leiden University Library, Ms. Pap. 2 (no. 3)). According to Sellin, Daniel Heinsius, 104, a letter from Heinsius to De Roovere in this same collection, dated 3 November, contains Heinsius’s ‘only recorded expression of displeasure’ with Selden, on occasion of the latter’s ‘rather effusive dedication’. The only letter dated November 1628 in Pap. 2 (either 1, 3, or 4 November; the date number has been crossed out) is the one cited above. Presumably, Sellin misinterprets ‘invidiosa’ as a pejorative term, whereas Heinsius clearly means it to say that the dedication would make anyone jealous of him. 118 Selden, Table Talk, 7, s.v. ‘Bible, Scripture’, no. 6. It says under the same heading (6, no. 4): ‘Scrutamini scripturas. These two words have undone the world: because Christ spake it to his disciples, therefore we must all, men, women and children, read and interpret the Scripture.’ This follows directly on an entry in which Selden defends the King James Version as the best vernacular version around. The Biblical Philology of Daniel Heinsius (1619–1640) 127

The remark seems merely descriptive, but perhaps Selden also thought interpreting the Bible should be done by scholars who were not professional theologians. Yet in another entry in the Table Talk, he failed to mention Heinsius. According to Selden, it made no sense to ask which of the three great scholars— Erasmus, Beza, or Grotius—had done the best job studying the New Testament, for there had been an evolution in the scholarship: they had built upon one another’s achievements, so they were all equally important. ‘And so it was necessary to have them all three.’ The names of Ludovicus de Dieu and Daniel Heinsius are conspicuously absent here. Heinsius, in turn, did mention ‘our Selden’ in his Sacrae exercitationes as someone who is ‘never enough recommendable’.119 Heinsius’s presentation copy of the Sacrae exercitationes is at the Bodleian Library.120 Selden limited himself to underlining only a couple of words. One particular parenthesis that he underscored (‘For I write Exercitationes’) is part of a programmatic statement by Heinsius: Neither do I wish that anything in the Sacred Text be changed, but only that I reveal in passing what can be said. (For I write Exercitationes). Although someone who explains his opinion in his writings, commits no sin, as long as he does not change anything himself, or recklessly leads the way to a change.121 This is not the only place where Heinsius warns that one should not interfere with the biblical text. Giving variants is fine as long as you have not invented them yourself, or if you do not stipulate that the variant be implemented. In this last offhand phrase, Heinsius basically defends giving a variant as long as one does not follow through and accept the variant’s ultimate consequence, i.e., to change the received text. This prompts the question: what is the sense of suggesting emendations if one is not allowed to change the text? The only way to come to grips with this fundamentally contradictory hermeneutics is to regard the statement as an obligatory assurance against recklessness, meant to appease the very anxiety that Cappel noticed in the epigraph to this chapter. For in the last sentence quoted above, Heinsius slips from ‘not changing anything’ into cautioning about behaving ‘recklessly’, with the verb ‘leading’ distancing Heinsius from the act of changing Scripture himself, only to potentially delegate agency to a reader who might be inspired by him. That Selden underscored precisely the phrase ‘I write Exercises’ shows that he acknowledged the tension that Heinsius expressed in these words: an exercitatio was an exercise in philology, not a programme for a new recension of the text. Selden, in his copy of the Sacrae exercitationes, also underscored two references to his own De diis Syris, apparently the only two if we are to believe the

119 Heinsius, Sacrae exercitationes, 296, l. 14; 715, l. 40. 120 ibid., Oxford, Bodleian Library, call number H 1.8 Seld.Th. 121 ibid., 98: ‘Neque hoc volumus, ut in contextu Sacro quicquam immutetur, sed ut quid dici possit, obiter sic exponamus. (Exercitationes enim scribimus) quanquam [sic punctuation] nec peccat, qui in suis sententiam exponit suam: qui nihil aut immutat ipse, aut temere ad mutationem praeit.’ 128 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic index of authors printed in the back.122 Selden also read the second, revised edition of the Aristarchus sacer, which was printed together with the 1639 edition of the Sacrae exercitationes in one volume. In the Aristarchus sacer, Selden underscored two remarks by Heinsius on his use of Scaliger’s handwritten annotations in copies of the New Testament and in Nonnus’s paraphrase of John.123 Evidently, Selden wondered, like d’Ewes, what had become of Scaliger’s biblical annotations.124 Shortly before the publication of the Sacrae exercitationes in 1639, Vossius voiced what he called a ‘widespread’ suspicion that Heinsius had silently used Scaliger’s notes on the New Testament. This assumption (or slander) has been proven wrong by Henk Jan de Jonge.125 Vossius had also heard that Heinsius used the notes compiled by Thomas Erpenius, and hoped that Heinsius would acknowledge his sources.126 Vossius gossiped about this with Johannes Meursius, who, from Denmark, had let Vossius know he was looking forward to the publication.127 Selden responded benignly after Heinsius asked him what he thought of the Sacrae exercitationes.128 It was ‘on the instigation of learned men from Cambridge’ that the Sacrae exercitationes was quickly reprinted by the University’s printer Roger Daniel.129 Patrick Young wrote to Heinsius, assuring him that he was now regarded as second only to Beza.130 Particularly positive was Young’s successor James Duport, Master of Magdalene College, who compiled the Greek index to the Cambridge edition.131 Judging from the other indexes, this second edition was printed in quite a rush.132

122 ibid.; references on 296 and (in the second edition of the Aristarchus) 715. See the Index auctorum, sig. Iiiiii3r: Ioannes Seldenus, 296.18, 715.40. That Selden actually read the book and did not merely skim the index is proved by the fact that he underscored the name of Andreas Masius on 68, the only instance of all the underscored names that is not referred to in the index. 123 Heinsius, Sacrae exercitationes, 936 and (in the appendix to the reader), 965. On precisely these two passages, see De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 97 and 109, nn. 348 and 350. 124 Shortly after the appearance of the second edition of the Sacrae exercitationes (Cambridge: Roger Daniel, 1640), the correspondence between Heinsius and Selden seems to have dried up, although Heinsius’s works are later often cited in Selden’s De iure, the Uxor Hebraica, and De Synedriis. 125 De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 96–99. 126 Vossius to Meursius, 29 September 1638, in Vossius, Epistolae, no. 440; Vossius to Meursius, 21 March 1639, in ibid., no. 350. 127 J. Meursius to Vossius, 27 May 1637, in ibid., second numbering, no. 243: ‘Heinsii in Novum Testamentum Notas, quarum specimen Elzevirius hic ostendit, avidissime exspectamus.’ 128 In letters of 19 May 1640 (Oxford, Bodleian Library, Ms. Selden supra 108, fol. 99) and 21 July 1640 (Oxford, Bodleian Library, Ms. Selden supra 108, fol. 60) Heinsius asks for comments. 129 These men have not been identified. D’Ewes or Young were not among them. 130 Kemke, Patricius Junius, no. 156; Sellin, Daniel Heinsius, 42. 131 Sellin, Daniel Heinsius, 99. 132 The second edition of 1640 has this Index auctorum without page references, rendering it quite useless. This edition also omitted the index of quoted biblical verses, present in the first edition of 1639, but there was added, as noted, a new Greek subject index. The Latin subject index, having forty pages and two columns per page, is smaller than the forty-nine three-column pages of the 1639 edition, and the first edition’s index of Hebrew words was omitted in the second edition. The Biblical Philology of Daniel Heinsius (1619–1640) 129

Heinsius did not embark on a New Testament project that would comple- ment what Selden had done for the Old Testament. Of course, Heinsius did refer often to Greek and Roman authors to explain certain uses of the Greek. And in the case of the explanation of the potter’s field, he reconstructed the geographical situation and burial customs to explain Matthew’s confusing reference to the prophet Jeremiah. But, overall, Heinsius was more interested in linguistics and less in ritual and cultural context. He also chose a different format: namely, annotations. Selden had employed a format which appealed rather more to Heinsius’s enemy Saumaise, who also stuck to monographic studies rather than running commentaries (although Saumaise failed to structure his works the way Selden did). Perhaps the relations between John Selden and Daniel Heinsius were made more secure by their shared reservations regarding the rise of the Laudian party and its combination of Arminian theology with a centralized ecclesiastical hierarchy as advocated by the Archbishop of Canterbury, William Laud, whose preoccupation with ritual and church government Heinsius would have condemned as non-essential. Though he cooperated with English Arminians on scholarly matters, his outlook was nevertheless much more akin to the theology of a man like James Ussher.133

4.4. CONCLUSIONS

Heinsius deplored the separation between theology and biblical philology.134 His main contribution to biblical philology was not that he advanced its methods in a new way, or that he broke new ground. His theory of a Hellenistic dialect met with scepticism and his critique of Beza was responded to with chagrin. From a progressivist historiographical point of view, Heinsius had done little to bring biblical philology to a new level. He professed to be reticent in his textual efforts, although he sometimes proposed to change the text, ignoring some of L’Empereur’s misgivings. Overall, however, he limited himself to noting variants without drawing consequences that would alter the text. Although he contributed significantly to the currency of the adjective ‘Hellenistic’, the word was used most often not in a geographical but in a chronological sense. He was likewise the origin of the somewhat unhappy term ‘Textus Receptus’.135 However, he did a tremendous job in putting biblical philology on the agenda with two monumental works of profound learning. The Aristarchus sacer and

133 Sellin, Daniel Heinsius, 91 and 93–4. 134 Heinsius, ‘Prolegomena ad Aristarchum’, sig. *******6v. 135 De Jonge, De bestudering, 34. 130 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic the Sacrae exercitationes sacrae were written by a scholar who was regarded, throughout Europe, as one of the finest classical scholars and philologists of his generation. Although the ‘influence’ of these two works on the level of philological content remains to be assessed, it is fair to assume that Heinsius’s reputation contributed much to the establishment of biblical-philological annotations as a genre worth pursuing by orthodox Reformed scholars, neu- tralizing the somewhat subversive association that had been attached to it since the days of Valla and Erasmus. The Animadversiones of De Dieu no doubt helped vindicate biblical annotations for mainstream theology. Heinsius criticized Beza for his philological and linguistic work, not for the patriarch’s theological ideas. He himself largely ignored theology, and insofar as he addressed it, he allowed his theological colleagues to read and advise him on how to remain within the boundaries of orthodox Calvinism. Heinsius’s most significant contribution, then, seems to have been that he helped to recast the genre into a somewhat more careful enterprise, setting it free from the subversive connotations it had taken on through the annotations of Valla and Erasmus. He emulated Beza by applying his superior knowledge of the nature and history of biblical Greek. Why did Heinsius turn biblical? No doubt, personal ambition played an important role.136 He regarded biblical criticism as the pinnacle of philology, the most rigorous science of his day, and he wanted to be part of the group of men who engaged in biblical philology. It was, after all, his own venerated master, Joseph Scaliger, who had put the subject of oriental languages on the agenda, and Heinsius recognized the strength of this paradigm when he noticed how Selden’s English and European star rose after the publication of De diis Syris in 1617.137 Above all, it was Heinsius’s linguistic theory of Hellenism that allowed him to figure as an expert in oriental languages as well as in Greek, and rank as a top biblical philologist at the same time. Of course, the Synod of Dordrecht also added to the moment of biblical philology, as the States’ Translation shows. In the hemeneutical view of the delegates of the Synod, philology could only help to advance the confessionalization of Dutch society. The Further Reformation contributed to the appeal of a method that had been put on the agenda by Scaliger two decades earlier. It can hardly be coincidental that it was precisely from 1625 onwards that students of theology applying for a post as minister had to show testimonials from university professors stating their versatility in Greek and Hebrew. At the instigation of the Franeker professor of Hebrew, Sixtinus Amama, the professors of Greek in the United Provinces taught New Testament Greek to students of theology. This, of course, raised the profile of the study of New Testament Greek as a language with its own idiosyncrasies.

136 In his particularly negative assessment of Heinsius’s life, Daniel ter Horst singled out Heinsius’s ambition as a constitutive element of his character. See Ter Horst, ‘Daniel Heinsius’. 137 Toomer, John Selden, vol. 1, 251. The Biblical Philology of Daniel Heinsius (1619–1640) 131

The German scholar Georg Pasor, who came to Franeker in 1626 as professor of Greek, published various reference works to facilitate the study of New Testament Greek: a Lexicon (1619) dedicated exclusively to the New Testament, an Etyma (1622) explaining proper names and semitic vocabulary, a shorted version of the Lexicon, the Manuale, to which was appended a Libellus de accen- tibus Novi Testamenti (1624), and an Idea Graecarum Novi Testamenti dialecto- rum (1633).138 It was from this time onwards that the ‘bad’ Greek of the New Testament, recognized already as such by Erasmus, started to become an urgent problem.139 Perhaps Heinsius also thought he had to conquer this one remaining field of philology, after having conquered all others. After triumphing in Latin drama with his own tragedies, in Greek lyric poetry, in late Greek poetry, in Latin poetry (including his own lyric output), and even after putting vernacular poetry theoretically on the agenda, stimulating not only Dutch but also German poetry; after translating and paraphrasing Aristotle, teaching every possible aspect of Latin and Greek literature; after defending Dordrecht, and editing the correspondence of Scaliger, he embarked on his last project: biblical philology. It was a field of study that was developing into a leading research programme, involving Hebrew and Arabic, and Heinsius had to be part of it if he was to live up to his self-styled image as Scaliger’s successor. No doubt, there was measure of competition involved: it was known to the Leiden insiders that Grotius had started to compile biblical annotations since his imprisonment at Loevestein (1618–1621), and Heinsius could not allow himself to fall behind. The Aristarchus sacer established Heinsius’s reputation as a biblical scholar, the edition of De diis Syris underscored his prominence, and the Sacrae exercitationes secured his fame. This is clear from the responses to Heinsius’s biblical philology, even if these were not always favourable: Antonius Walaeus, professor of theology in Leiden, had some reservations, if only because it fed the fire of the rivalry between Heinsius and Saumaise. As Walaeus’s son testified, [my father] wished the litteratores [philologists] would act with more circumspection and with less freedom in matters theological. The lights of the greatest faculties, who neglect languages, are often found to be better focused on their subjects; those who travel less and are less interested in antiquities, usually have a better understanding of their own territory.140 Revius, as we have seen, was positive, but critical at some points. Vossius was downright suspicious, as was Johannes Meursius. In England, responses were positive, as we have seen from the reactions of d’Ewes and Selden and the swiftly produced Cambridge reprint of just one year later. That the work was held in high esteem among the orthodox Calvinist

138 De Jonge, De bestudering, 29–31. 139 ibid., 35. 140 Walaeus, Opera I, 29 cited after Van Rooden, L’Empereur, 57, n. 22. 132 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic party there is demonstrated also by the career of Robert Creighton, Regius Professor of Greek in Cambridge, and in other respects a powerful man. English academics looked upon the Aristarchus sacer so favourably that Creighton wrecked his academic prospects by ‘almost daily’ voicing public criticism against the work.141 Yet he was not the only one. Heinsius’s correspondence gives evidence in particular of the negative response from the Genevan theologian Jean de Croÿ. ‘Our Heinsius is silent’, André Rivet wrote on 1 September 1644 to Méric Casaubon in England, ‘and Croyus, a pastor from Bordeaux and a learned man, threatens him, having sent some philological exercises to Geneva in which he rails against him. I hope we will not be involved in more wars still!’142 Heinsius knew about this attack and wrote to De Croÿ directly, denying allegations that he had obstructed the printing of De Croÿ’s annotations in Leiden.143 Heinsius was to be disappointed: astonished at the malice and ignorance of De Croÿ’s annotations, he felt compelled to organize a counterattack, which took four months (instead of one) to be printed, as he took to complaining to his son Nicolaas (the book was not published by the Elzevirs, and Heinsius continuously emphasized that this defence was not written in his name).144 He received support from the side of Marcus Zuerius Boxhorn, who wrote a dissertation against De Croÿ.145 But the most definitive response came from Hugo Grotius, who for a decade had been very curious to learn more about Heinsius’s biblical annotations, and who dared to publish his own biblical annotations only after having read those of Heinsius—not without some relief that Heinsius turned out, after all, not to have cut the ground from under Grotius’s feet.

141 Wood, Athenae Oxonienses, vol. 1, col. 427. 142 Rivet to M. Casaubon, 1 September 1644 (Leiden University Library, Ms. BPL 285, I, fol. 150v): ‘Noster Heinsius silet, et Croyus pastor Bituriensis, vir doctus, ei minatur, missis Genevam nonnullis exercitationibus philologicis in quibus in eum incurrit. Utinam non aliis bellis involveremur!’ 143 Heinsius to De Croÿ, 1644, in Burmannus, Sylloge, vol. 2, no. 250, 476–7. 144 See the eight letters from Heinsius to N. Heinsius, from the period 30 October 1645–1 April 1646 (Leiden University Library, Ms. BUR F 4: 87, 88, 95, 98, 100, 107, 110, and 116. 145 D. Heinsius to N. Heinsius (Leiden University Library, Ms. BUR F 4 (103)); D. Heinsius to N. Heinsius (Leiden University Library, Ms. BUR F 4 (106)). The dissertation was published as Pro Daniele Heinsio adversus Ioannis Croii calumnias apologia necessaria, Leiden: H. de Vogel, 1646. 5

Grotius’s Annotationes on the Bible (1619–1645)

Spinoza in his book with the title Tractatus theologico-politicus followed the opinion of Grotius [that the historical books of the Bible were not divinely inspired]. . . . This opinion of Grotius and of Spinoza was renewed in [Jean Le Clerc’s] Sentimens de quelques Theologiens de Hollande. —Richard Simon, 17031

5.1. GROTIUS AND THE UTILITY OF PHILOLOGY

More than Heinsius, Grotius employed linguistic and political contextualization from pagan history, in the wake of Scaliger and also inspired by John Selden. There was competition between Heinsius and Grotius, who had once been youthful friends. Unlike Heinsius’s more neutral approach, Grotius’s philological study of the Bible ran parallel to a sustained polemic over religious politics: he used the tool of biblical philology to back up his somewhat naïve ideal of religious ecumenism encompassing Protestantism and Catholicism. As a reincarnation of Erasmus, he failed miserably to convince any of the parties on either side of the Reformation divide. But he left an impressive series of annotations on the Old Testament and a particularly astute set on the New Testament, which trumped Heinsius’s annotations in both clarity and sharpness.

5.2. MAKING THE ANNOTATIONES

Grotius’s annotations on the Bible were much more of a life-work than De iure belli ac pacis—or at least we can note that the work took considerably more

1 Richard Simon (in the third person) to NN, 26 August 1703, in Bruzen la Martinière, Lettres Choisies, 322. 134 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic time to be brought to an end, occupying him since his imprisonment at Loevestein. De Jonge speaks of the ‘most important seventeenth-century explanation of the New Testament’.2 In the light of such a characterization, astonishingly little has been written on the Annotationes.3 No full-blown study has ever been devoted to what was arguably Grotius’s life-work. Studies that treat the Annotationes all stress its lengthy incubation. Although it was in part posthumously published, Grotius had begun work on the project as early as December 1619, while he was imprisoned. It was conceived as a contribution to a polyglot edition of the New Testament initiated by the Leiden professor of Arabic Thomas Erpenius, although a first idea might have been a commentary on the Sermon on the Mount. For such a study, we know that Grotius asked Gerardus Vossius for a translation of the Old Testament, the last edition of Drusius’s annotations on the New Testament, David Kimchi’s Sefer ha-Berit, and Augustine’s De doctrina Christiana.4 Grotius would have needed such works to help him research, as he explained in 1623, the ‘true reading’ (vera lectio); they would assist him in the interpretation of words and figures of speech, the comparison of passages treating the same argument, and the explanation of rites and customs. Right from the start, then, it was explicitly Grotius’s aim to focus on ‘true reading’. In principle, this can mean anything from a textual- critical discussion of variant lectiones to correct dogmatic interpretation, but given that Grotius mentions vocabulary, idiom, and antiquarian issues as focal points, the words vera lectio most likely indicated the technical meaning: lectio as referring to the actual word used in the text.

2 De Jonge, ‘Grotius as an Interpreter’, 59. 3 Prior to three articles by De Jonge (‘Grotius as an Interpreter’, ‘Hugo Grotius: exégète’, and ‘Grotius’ View of the Gospels’), there was an essay by Kuenen on Grotius’s commentary on the Old Testament, as well as an article by Van Unnik and a chapter by Graf Reventlow. Then there are the ten pages which De Lang devotes to Grotius’s techniques of synchronizing and harmonizing the Gospels, which rely heavily on the historical methods of the Annotationes, but hardly touch on textual-critical or linguistic aspects: De Lang, De Opkomst, 125–35. There is a short article on Heinsius and Grotius, characterizing their Bible annotations rather than analysing them: Bloemendal and Nellen, ‘Early Enlightenment or High Philology?’ See also (on Grotius and Petrus Cunaeus): Ska, ‘The “History of Israel” ’, 321–3. Nellen treats Grotius in ‘Growing Tension’, 808–17 and, of course, pays attention to his biblical annotations in his biography: Nellen, Hugo de Groot, 412–17 (about the writing of the annotations) and 500–18 (about Grotius’s exegesis in general). Laplanche devotes a couple of pages to Grotius’s methods in light of his theological-political programme, and Jung briefly discusses Grotius’s linguistic analysis of Romans 8:28–30: Laplanche, L’é c r i t u r e , 335–9, 383–6, and 415; Jung, Das Ganze der Heiligen Schrift, 134–8 (from Calov’s point of view) and 142–5 (Grotius on Romans 8:28–30). Last, an article by Bultmann discusses Grotius’s representation of Solomon: Bultmann, ‘Beyond the Vulgate’. There are discussions of a few fragments of Grotius’s Annotationes in studies of his theological works, such as Haentjens’s study of Grotius’s religious thinking (Hugo de Groot als godsdienstig denker), Heering’s book on De veritate (Hugo Grotius as Apologist for the Christian Religion), and a collective volume on Grotius (Nellen and Rabbie, Hugo Grotius, Theologian). Mark Somos, in his study of Leiden secularization, dedicates a chapter to Grotius, but does not discuss the Annotationes. See, finally, Muller, ‘Biblical Interpretation’, 35. 4 Grotius to Vossius, 5 December 1619, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 2, 26–7, no. 596. Grotius’s Annotationes on the Bible (1619–1645) 135

Although Grotius did not state outright that he would avoid theological issues, the clear focus on matters philological marginalized the role of dogmatic exposition in his commentary. Studying the Bible, in Grotius’s procedure, required solving well-known problems, such as the identity of the author of the Epistle of James, a problem that Scaliger, as we have seen, also addressed.5 One of the important sources Grotius had recourse to in the preparation of his notes was Codex Alexandrinus. Grotius sought to acquire excerpts from Codex Alexandrinus, and in 1639, these efforts were rewarded. Patrick Young sent him excerpts of the apostolic letters via Francis Junius F. F., promising to add more collations from Revelation, the Acts, and three gospels (Matthew was largely missing from the Alexandrinus).6 In May 1640, this second set of collations reached Grotius in Paris.7 It is not known whether he knew that Saumaise, at the same time, had also received collations from Codex Alexandrinus.8 Hundreds of readings from Codex Alexandrinus are given in Grotius’s Annotationes, which broadcast these variants for the first time.9 Grotius not only registered the variants, he sometimes deemed them better readings and proposed changing the Textus Receptus. I will discuss one such example that demonstrates that Grotius recognized the importance of variant readings for doctrinal discussions. The second half of chapter 2 of the Epistle of James is ‘about faith and works’ (the title of a treatise by Grotius on the subject), and it was a bone of contention in the Catholic and Protestant controversies over the status of good works in relation to faith. (In chapter 3, at the end of section 3.4,

5 See chapter 1, section 1.4, ‘Scaliger’s Biblical Philology in the Scaligerana’, ‘Authorship and Authority’, n. 93. Grotius was careful: some thought that the attributed author James was neither of the two apostles with that name, and others believed that he was the brother of Jesus, the first bishop of the Church of Jerusalem, and the son neither of Zebedee nor of Alphaeus. Grotius leaned towards the theory that the author of the epistle was the son of Alphaeus, and the same man as the one who was called the brother of Jesus, born of Mary of Cleopas, one of the women who stood beneath the cross, according to John. See Grotius to Vossius, November or December 1620, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 2, 38, no. 608. For Mary of Clopas or Cleop(h)as, see John 19:25. 6 Grotius to Francis Junius F. F., 23 September 1638, in Van Romburgh, “For My Worthy Freind”, 622, no. 120b; Grotius to Junius, 22 January 1639, ibid., 628, no. 122b; Junius to Grotius, 9 February 1639, ibid., 630, no. 123a; Grotius to Junius, 19 February 1639, ibid., 632, no. 124a. Half a year later than Grotius, Saumaise also tried to obtain these collations, but Patrick Young had time only to inspect the variant readings listed by Saumaise; see Gronovius to Saumaise, 15 June 1639, in Burmannus, Sylloge, vol. 2, 595–6, no. 339. See also Nellen, Hugo de Groot, 416. 7 The New Testament in Codex Alexandrinus was collated against the 1633 Elzevir Textus Receptus; the manuscript with the variants, or an apograph thereof which Grotius received from Young, is now in the Amsterdam University Library, ms. III H 171. This manuscript contains variants from the last three chapters of Matthew, from Mark, Luke, John, the Acts, and from Revelation. 8 Nellen, Hugo de Groot, 417. 9 De Jonge, ‘Hugo Grotius: exégète’, 109. See also Grotius to W. de Groot, 5 May 1640, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 11, 429, no. 4632. Previous attempts by English scholars to publish the Alexandrinian Codex, or at least collations from it, failed; see Mandelbrote, ‘Isaac Vossius and the Septuagint’, 88–90. 136 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

‘Revising the New Testament’, n. 89, we noted how many trouble the revisers of the States’ Translation had in negotiating James 2:21–22.) James argues that faith without good works is a dead faith. He makes the case that someone could imply that works are more important than faith by saying: ‘You have faith, I have works’ (2:18). But the apostle says he would reply as follows: ‘Show me your faith without works, and I will show you my faith from my works.’ This answer is somewhat ambiguous: the apostle claims to be able to prove his own faith from his works, but asks his opponent to prove his faith without relying on works. The passage had suffered some confusion in the transmission. At 2:18, the Textus Receptus quotes the apostle replying: δεῖξόν μοι τὴν πίστιν σου ἐκ τῶν ἔργων σου show me thy faith by your works But Codex Alexandrinus has: δεῖξόν μοι τὴν πίστιν σου χωρὶς τῶν ἔργων σου show my thy faith without your works. Grotius identifies this variant, stressing that the Latin Vulgate and the Syriac and the Arabic translations all read ‘without’. Grotius says, ‘It is far better to follow this reading.’10 From a Protestant view, it was a better reading indeed, for the apostle thought it was possible to show faith without good works. Such readings from Codex Alexandrinus proved so important that even after the Annotationes were completed, Grotius continued writing letters to his brother Willem to instruct him to add variant readings from the Codex to the drafts.11 The production of his Annotations on the Books of the Evangelists (Amsterdam, 1641) was fraught with technical and communication problems, and Grotius did not want to leave the burden of publishing to his heirs.12 But there was also another reason to publish the book. As early as 1633, Grotius had wanted to prevent Heinsius ‘from pluming himself upon his own work in this genre too’.13 He decided to wait for Heinsius’s work to come out.14 Grotius was eager to know how it would be received by theologians, and in particular by politicians, who tended to be more liberal;

10 Grotius, In Epistolam Iacobi, in OOT, vol. 2–2, 1081; cited in French by De Jonge, ‘Hugo Grotius: exégète’, 110. 11 Grotius to W. de Groot, 1 May 1640, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 11, 249, no. 4632; Grotius to W. de Groot, 12 May 1640, ibid., 259, no. 4640. 12 Grotius to W. de Groot, [9] June 1640, in ibid., 318, no. 4684. On Grotius’s relation with the father of the ‘Blavii’ (Joan and Cornelis Blaeu), Willem Janszoon Blaeu (1571–1638), see Van Netten, Koopman in kennis, 199–206. 13 Grotius to Saumaise, 9 April 1633, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, no. 1832: ‘Non intercedo, quo minus hac quoque in materia se jactet Aristarchus; palma est publica.’ ‘Aristarchus’ must be a reference to Heinsius’s Aristarchus sacer. What precisely Grotius meant with the addition ‘palma est publica’ (the victory-palm is public) is unclear to me. 14 Grotius to G. J. Vossius, 10 November 1637, in ibid., vol. 8, 716, no. 3338. Grotius’s Annotationes on the Bible (1619–1645) 137 above all, by those who had a taste for ancient languages.15 Whether Grotius would polish his own annotations, and even whether he would publish them, depended on what Heinsius’s work would be like. He therefore kept a close watch on its progress.16 Moreover, Grotius also wanted to wait for Saumaise’s inevitable response to Heinsius, after which he expected that he (Grotius) would have to make changes.17 Grotius indeed waited for years for Heinsius’s Sacrae exercitationes to appear, keeping record of every stage of the printing process with the help of his trustworthy friend Gerardus Vossius (who disliked Heinsius), and usually anticipating Saumaise’s response.18 Grotius feared that Heinsius would cut much ground from under his feet, but when he finally got hold of a copy, he was reassured. Vossius, Willem de Groot, and the Remonstrant Brotherhood in Rotterdam, notably Estienne de Courcelles, helped seeing Grotius’s work through the press.19 Just like Constantin l’Empereur had indicated to Heinsius the boundaries of what was acceptable to the faculty, Courcelles warned Grotius that he was too dismissive of Protestantism in an attempt to appease the Catholic censors.20 Remonstrants were particularly keen on defending themselves against the claim of being crypto-Catholics, and now some people even feared that their erstwhile champion Hugo Grotius would actually convert to Catholicism. So far had Grotius reached out to Rome that a petit comité was put together in Paris to put pressure on him: the Jesuit Denis Pétau, the royal librarian Gabriel Naudé, and the papal nuncio Girolamo Grimaldo offered Grotius material benefits, along with spiritual salvation.21 Several twentieth-century historians argued that Grotius had indeed decided to go over to the Catholic Church, although his untimely death would have prevented him from doing so.22

15 Grotius to W. de Groot, 16 October 1636, in ibid., vol. 7, 441, no. 2797. 16 Grotius to G. J. Vossius, 12 December 1636, in ibid., vol. 7, 581, no. 2885. Grotius to Peiresc, 22 May 1637, ibid., vol. 8, 313, no. 3089; Grotius to G. J. Vossius, 17 July 1637, ibid., 429, no. 3169. See also Nellen, Hugo de Groot, 411. 17 Grotius to W. de Groot, 25 October 1636, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 7, 466, no. 2813. See also Grotius to Saumaise, 16 May 1637, ibid., vol. 8, 293, no. 3077; Grotius to W. de Groot, 18 September 1637, ibid., 570, no. 3256. See also Nellen, Hugo de Groot, 413–15. 18 Grotius to S. Johnson, 30 September 1638, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 9, 598–9, no. 3781; Grotius to W. de Groot, 24 January 1639, ibid., vol. 10, 54, no. 3945; Grotius to W. de Groot, 5 February 1639, ibid., 77, no. 3958. 19 Grotius to W. de Groot, 21 May 1639, in ibid., vol. 10, 338, no. 4119; Grotius to Opitz, 21 May 1639, ibid., 340–1, no. 4121; Grotius to W. de Groot, 9–16 July 1639, ibid., 445, no. 4196; Grotius to I. Vossius, 13 August 1639, ibid., 526, no. 4255; Grotius to Opitz, 1 September 1639, ibid., 564, no. 4276; Grotius to W. de Groot, 3 September 1639, ibid., 571, no. 4280; Grotius to M. Casaubon, 19 September 1639, ibid., 612, no. 4301; G. J. Vossius to Grotius, 25 September 1639, ibid., 628–9, no. 4310; Grotius to W. de Groot, 1 October 1639, ibid., 635, no. 4314; Grotius to W. de Groot, 22 September 1640, in ibid., vol. 11, 525, no. 4845; Grotius to W. de Groot, 14 April 1640, ibid., 203, no. 4599; Grotius to W. de Groot, 28 April 1640, ibid., 236, no. 4623. Nellen, Hugo de Groot, 501–3. 20 Courcelles to Episcopius, 22 November 1640, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 17, 509, appendix 2, after no. 4935, 509. 21 Nellen, Hugo de Groot, 523–4. 22 E.g., Winkelman, Remonstranten en katholieken, 271–5; Tans, Bossuet en Hollande, 33, 50–1. 138 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

In January 1641, Grotius announced that publication of the Annotationes was imminent. ‘In it, I have gathered as best as I could contributions for a pious design to promote truth and peace.’23 He was happy to learn that an index would be added to the edition.24 Nevertheless, Grotius complained of the slop- piness of the typesetting, and of the insertion of a portrait of himself, accompanied by laudatory verses from Heinsius’s hand, written twenty years earlier in happier times. Interestingly, the publication of the Annotationes was delayed because in the summer of 1643 Grotius decided to compile a list of Latin translations of all the Greek and Hebrew words cited in the 1641 edition of his annotations on the four gospels. It is worth dwelling a bit longer on this decision because it is indicative of the spread of biblical philology beyond the philological specialists, and perhaps of the discipline’s trans-confessional scope. Several considerations prompted Grotius’s decision. Mistakes in the first edition (of the gospels) could be emended,25 and errors by current and future typesetters could be reduced.26 Blaeu was eager to have the translations, and perhaps not just because he feared his typesetters would make mistakes in setting the Greek and Hebrew type. He evidently thought the translations would make his own edition more attractive: ‘better’, ‘larger’, and ‘more acceptable’ were the words Willem de Groot used.27 No doubt Grotius and Blaeu also aimed to extend their readership to people not versed in Greek and Hebrew, i.e., to people who could not read the Bible in its original languages. Whom could he have had in mind? Surely, Grotius’s Annotationes were aimed at learned men versed in linguistic, historical, and theological exegesis. It is hardly conceivable that his readers, though competent enough to read Grotius’s Latin, would have had no knowledge of Greek, but perhaps they were less comfortable with that language (to say nothing of Hebrew) than with Latin. In the Annotationes, Grotius translates every single Greek word, including a simple ὑπερ [super].28 More speculatively, a well-educated Catholic audience would be less familiar with Hebrew and Greek than would Protestant divines, due to their principled reliance on the Vulgate in their theological studies. That Grotius aimed at a Catholic readership is underscored by his use of the Vulgate for the annotations on the Old Testament, ‘not only because it has no unwholesome doctrines, but also because it contains much knowledge’ (although he is quick to add that he sometimes replaced words to

23 Grotius to Jasky, 19 January 1641, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 12, 42, no. 5019. See also Grotius to W. de Groot, 2 February 1641, ibid., 68, no. 5039. 24 Grotius to W. de Groot, 2 February 1641, in ibid., 69, no. 5039. 25 Grotius to W. de Groot, 2 February 1641, in ibid., 70, no. 5039. 26 Grotius to G. J. Vossius, 22 August 1643, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 14, 480, no. 6375. 27 W. de Groot to Grotius, 28 November 1644, in ibid., vol. 16, 185, no. 7169: ‘editionem quae melior futura sit quam Ianseniana et . . . auctior et acceptior’. 28 E.g., at Romans 8:37. Grotius’s Annotationes on the Bible (1619–1645) 139 counter the ‘horrible style’ of the Latin).29 A Catholic readership is in any case implied in the preface to his annotations on the New Testament, where Grotius proclaimed, ‘it has always been my intention to serve not one of the parties in which we Christians have been divided due to the grand disaster of our age, but simply to serve all Christians’.30 Catholic readership is implied by the frame in which Grotius’s Annotationes should be read: his dream of a unified church for all Christians. During the last five years of his life (1640–1645), Grotius was not just occupied with the Annotationes; he was also entangled in a major polemic. In 1640 he published two provocative treatises: On the Antichrist31 and On Faith and Works.32 In the first work, he argued that it was wrong to identify the Pope with the Antichrist, and he did so by means of textual criticism. The book drew responses from such luminaries of reformed dogma as Samuel Maresius and Pierre du Moulin. In the case of 2 Thess. 2:4, Grotius had suggested two conjectural emendations.33 Maresius objected and claimed that Grotius deprived all manuscripts of their trustworthiness and forced his own sense upon the text, instead of rendering the text in its true form.34 Episcopius wrote to Grotius in support: ‘I think everyone should be free to make conjectures of obscure passages’, and he added that the only possible reason for attacking Grotius was that honest men were afraid to be accused of Catholicizing.35 This indeed was the general impression Grotius made on the Calvinists in Holland.36 It was also the accusation levelled at him by André Rivet on the occasion of the Via ad pacem (1642), a reprint of Grotius’s Annotations on Cassander’s Consultatio, which Grotius had managed to publish the year before in 1641 and which now reappeared, together with editions of Georgius Cassander’s Consultatio and of the Augsburg and Tridentine Catholic confessions, all in one volume.37

29 Grotius, ‘Lectori’, in Annotationes ad Vetus Testamentum, in OOT, vol. 1: ‘… dicendi genere satis horrido… ’. See also Kuenen, ‘Hugo de Groot als uitlegger’, 306. 30 Grotius, ‘Lectori Christiano’, in OOT, vol. 2–1, sig. 2r: ‘propositum semper fuit, non alicui earum servire partium, in quas ingenti saeculi nostri malo divisi sumus Christini, sed Christianis plane omnibus’. De Jonge, ‘Hugo Grotius: exégète,’ 100; De Lang, De opkomst, 126. 31 Grotius, Commentatio de Antichristo. 32 Grotius, Explicatio trium utilissimorum locorum N. Testamenti . . . de fide et operibus. 33 Grotius, Commentatio de antichristo, 14. 34 Maresius, Dissertatio de Antichristo, 57–8. Maresius completely failed to grasp Grotius’s argument, in arguing that Grotius proposed to read, in 1 Corinthians 6:14, ἑαυτὸν for αὐτὸν, whereas it was precisely the other way around. 35 Episcopius to Grotius, 25 November 1641, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 12, 642, no. 5480: ‘Coniecturas enim de locis obscuris cuilibet liberas esse debere existimo: μάντις γ᾽ ἄριστος ὅστις εἰκάζει καλῶς.’ The Greek cites fragment 973 (in Nauck’s edition) of Euripides: ‘The one who makes the most elegant conjecture is the best prophet.’ Episcopius continues, 642–3: ‘Nec dubito, quin maledicos et amarulentos istos mortales pari voce ac sententia damnaturi fuissent boni et probi omnes, nisi una suspicio aut initae aut ineundae aliquando cum ecclesia pontificia foedera- tionis sive secuturae ad eam transitionis metus eos retinuisset.’ 36 Van Eysinga, Huigh de Groot, 136. 37 TMD, Bibliographie de Grotius, no. 1166. 140 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

Grotius saw these theological treatises as his most important works. He thanked God for the opportunity to write On the Antichrist, On Faith and Works, and Explanation of the Ten Commandments, all from 1640, and asked his brother and all his friends to help him spread his ideas as widely as possible.38 Grotius’s irenicist ideas in theological-political matters were inextricably linked with his philological research. In Grotius’s own words (in response to Rivet’s critique), ‘Holy Writ was twisted, as you can see, in miraculous ways, according to each man’s fancy.’39 The Annotationes fit into the antidogmatic programme of his theological treatises, furnishing them with a historical foundation.40 Grotius several times outlined that the three treatises of 1640 needed to be followed immediately by the Annotationes.41 He suggested that they be reprinted together in one volume.42 In a letter to his brother he was emphatic: ‘Apart from the three anonymous tracts, also add my response to Maresius. All of these need to be joined to the Annotata, so that they cannot be separated.’43 This indeed happened in 1641.44 The strong link between the controversy over Grotius’s rapprochement with the Catholic Church and his philological annotations on the Bible is underscored by his use of the New Testament annotations to respond to attacks on his 1640 work on the Antichrist.45 As Grotius himself made clear in a Dutch letter to Uytenbogaert, there were no grounds for agreement with Pierre du Moulin that Scripture was sufficiently clear not to need explanation, and no reason to assume that it was, or could ever be self-evident. It would be easier and more reasonable for people to accept the consensus on generally accepted matters (i.e., to assent to a broad programme with a minimal Christian credo). Individuals should either accept good explanations or be silent. This was preferable to forcing the Church to accord with the thoughts and preferences of select individuals. For example, the Church should not ask people to pray for the dead or to invoke the help of the saints. But the Church should also not condemn people who kept up these

38 Grotius to W. de Groot, 12 May 1640, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 11, 259, no. 4640. 39 Grotius to N. van Reigersberch, 29 March 1642, in ibid., vol. 13, 155, no. 5657: ‘Rivets schrift wensche ick mij met den eerste werde overgezonden. De H. Schrift werdt, gelijck uEd. ziet, won- derlijck gedraeit nae eens yders phantasie.’ 40 De Lang, De opkomst, 126. 41 E.g. Grotius to W. de Groot, 17 December 1639, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 10, 816, no. 4431. 42 Grotius to W. de Groot, 26 May 1640, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 11, 290, no. 4663. 43 Grotius to W. de Groot, 10 November 1640, in ibid., 605–6, no. 4918: ‘Praeter tria Anonyma accedat responsum ad Maraisium. Ea omnia debent Annotatis subiungi, ita ut separari nequeant.’ 44 In the Annotationes in libro Evangeliorum; see TMD, Bibliographie de Grotius, no. 1135. In the Opera omnia theologica of 1679, the last of the three works is indeed integrated into the Annotationes ad Exodum as an appendix to chapter XX, Opera omnia theologica, vol. 1, 34–51 (TMD, Bibliographie de Grotius, no. 1121 and 1121A). 45 Grotius to W. de Groot, 2 August 1642, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 13, 349, no. 5817. For an overview of the polemical exchange with Rivet and Maresius, see TMD, Bibliographie de Grotius, nos 1100 (also remarque 5), 1109, 1117, 1128, 1165, 1172, 1175, 1180, 1183, 1130, 298, and 1195; TMD, Bibliographie sur Grotius, nos 319 and 325–8. Grotius’s Annotationes on the Bible (1619–1645) 141 widespread practices, which extended back to antiquity. Wide latitude in these and other matters was preferable to endless disputes. ‘For if one would continue with that, what end would there be to new sects?’ It was up to the professors to study the decisions of the Church councils; this was not everybody’s duty.46 This view echoes sentiments expressed half a year before, when Grotius had voiced his wish that Uytenbogaert write about the distinction between necessary and non-essential matters in faith.47

5.3. CONTENTS OF THE ANNOTATIONES

The two most discussed aspects of the Annotationes have been their impact on irenicist, ecumenical Christian tendencies and their contribution to the development of a historical-critical method. Underlying both aspects is Grotius’s historical approach towards the Bible. Grotius’s irenicist ideals, as voiced in the controversial works listed above, pervade his Annotationes. Early Christianity, i.e., Catholic tradition, is invoked to establish a broad consensus within the Church.48 Grotius consistently attaches authority to the traditions of the Church Fathers for biblical interpretation. He also stressed the value of Jewish authors for the interpretation of the Old Testament.49 Too much, however, has been made of the contrast between Grotius’s traditionalism (the authority he ascribes to the Church) and the sola scriptura of the orthodox Calvinists. The Belgic Confession indeed stressed that the Bible was the testimony of the Holy Spirit, but the Synod of Dordrecht had made clear that the Bible alone was not sufficient: the Confession, together with the Heidelberg Catechism and the Canons of Dordrecht, were quickly establishing an authoritative human tradition in its own right. Grotius did not fail to see the irony, and flung the anti-tradition argument back into the faces of his Calvinist adversaries: Not everything defended by Protestants is found literally in the Bible. They say consequences have to be accepted. But they themselves often admit consequences stemming from a private individual mind. Hence the large number and serious character of controversies among Protestants, and their daily splits. The Catholics, at least, had learned to follow the consensus still extant from the earliest history of the Church.50 Grotius, of course, was here putting his finger

46 Grotius to J. Uytenbogaert, 12 March 1644, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 15, 214, no. 6755: ‘Want zoo men daermede voort wil, wat einde zal daer zijn van nieuwe secten?’ 47 Grotius to W. de Groot, 14 November 1643, in ibid., vol. 14, 688, no. 6532, postscript. 48 Graf Reventlow, ‘Humanistic Exegesis’, 178. 49 Grotius, De iure belli ac pacis, ed. Molhuysen, 17. 50 Grotius, Annotata ad Consultationem Cassandri, in OOT, vol. 3, 628: ‘Caeterum etiam Protestantes quae tuentur, ea non sunt omnia αὐτολεξεì [ad verbum] in Sacris Literis. Dicunt 142 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic on the sore spot of the gap between Protestant hermeneutical theory, which claimed that the Bible was clear and self-evident, and the troubled Protestant reality of endemic polemics over interpretations by individual readers. So Grotius reached out to the Catholic Church and laid the basis for a possible rapprochement between Protestantism and Catholicism. This programme was at the heart of his concordial ideals, which in his eyes could be fulfilled by broad agreement on a relatively small number of essential elements of Christian faith, with other, hotly debated issues (within Christianity, within Protestantism, and even within Calvinism) relegated to the realm of non-necessary subjects (adiaphora), to be debated by specialists. He thought the best exegesis was done by means of tradition because only tradition can harmonize conflicting opinions. In a passage on the sufficiency of Scripture and the authority of tradition, Grotius wrote, ‘Tradition thus teaches us to reconcile what is said in Holy Scripture about grace and free will.’51 Willem van Unnik sees in Grotius’s remark that Scripture was ‘useful, but not indispensable for religion and churches’, proof that Grotius thought Scripture to be insufficient.52 This reading, however, misses the historical point Grotius is making: he argues that in the earliest apostolic times, oral transmission was as important as scriptural teaching. He does not want to relativize the written word, but rather to do justice to the importance of the non-written word. In Van Unnik’s reading, Grotius becomes a crypto-Catholic.53 This Catholic reading of Grotius’s work is understandable. When Grotius refers to the opinions of Cardinal Richelieu and James I in casting doubts on the quality of the Latin translations of Beza and Piscator, he singles out the Vulgate as the proper Latin text because it contains no bad dogma according to a centuries-old, widespread consensus of those who learnt neither Greek nor Hebrew.54 Grotius’s theological-political ideas concern us here only on a general level, inasmuch as they offer a view of the framework of his philology. We will now focus on the philological methods of the Annotationes, which are generally accepted to be a forerunner of the historical-critical biblical philology of the nineteenth century.55 In characterizing Grotius’s work as philologist, I will admittendas consequentias. At ipsi consequentias saepe admittunt ex privato cuiusque ingenio: unde tot et tam gravia inter ipsos dissidia et quotidiana divortia. Catholici vero eas admittunt consequentias, quas admisit vetus Ecclesia antiquo et universali consensu. Atque ita stat omne verbum in duobus testibus, in Scriptura et in Traditione, quae mutuo facem sibi allucent.’ 51 Grotius, Annotata ad Consultationem Cassandri, in OOT, vol. 3, 628a, ll. 46–8: ‘Sic Traditio nos docet conciliare quae de Gratia et quae de libero arbitrio sunt in Sacris Literis.’ See also Grotius, Votum pro pace ecclesiastica, in ibid., 674: ‘Ego sic sentio: non interpretandam Scripturam, ut iam aliquoties dixi, contra Traditionem.’ 52 Grotius, Rivetiani apologetici discussio, in ibid., 723b, ll. 41–3: ‘Utilia ergo fuere scripta, non ita necessaria ut sine eis fides et Ecclesiae esse non possent.’ 53 Van Unnik, ‘Hugo Grotius’, 191. 54 Grotius, Votum pro pace ecclesiastica, in OOT, vol. 3, 674b, ll. 15–26. 55 Van Eysinga, Huigh de Groot, 132; Graf Reventlow, ‘Humanistic Exegesis’, 175; De Jonge, ‘Hugo Grotius: exégète’, 113–14, 115; Muller, ‘Biblical Interpretation’, 35: ‘Adumbrations of the his- Grotius’s Annotationes on the Bible (1619–1645) 143 maintain the division of the three fields of textual criticism, linguistics, and historical contextualization.

Textual Criticism

In the preface to the Annotationes on the Old Testament, Grotius surveyed the sources he used. Although it would overstate the case to conclude that Grotius ‘demonstrates an acute awareness of the process of transmission and translation of the biblical text’,56 it is significant that he mentions the different versions he relied upon, even if he does not specify precisely which editions he used, let alone relate them to one another. In De veritate 3:15, Grotius acknowledged that the biblical text had become corrupted in some places. But he argued that this had no bearing on its interpretation. It was inevitable that over the course of the centuries, some scribes had made mistakes. But custom and reason teach us to prefer what the majority of testimonies have demonstrated. ‘But it shall never, by no cunning or in any other way, be proven that all the exemplars have been corrupted and particularly not in those places which pertain to dogma or to some important chapter of history.’57 Witnesses to the contrary are of a much later date, and are biased. The things we said could suffice against those who oppose the change of Scripture, for whoever affirms this, in particular with regard to a text which has been long and widely accepted, must himself prove that which he claims.58 But to reveal the vanity of such an objection more clearly, we will show that what they consider a fact is not a fact and could not have happened.59 Grotius locates the diversity of the biblical text as a development of later ages. Archetypes of the New Testament books (which were pure) survived until 200 ad. torical-critical method also appear in the works of Hugo Grotius.’ But De Jonge also warns that Grotius ‘hardly contributed to the development of the historical criticism of the Gospels’ because he still naively held on to the historicity of the gospels, the rejection of which had to be predicated on a ‘radical historical skepticism’; De Jonge, ‘Grotius’ View of the Gospels’, 74. 56 Bultmann, ‘Beyond the Vulgate’, 96. 57 Grotius, De veritate, 3:15, in OOT, vol. 3, 55a, ll. 41–4: ‘At vero dolo aut alio quovis modo omnia exempla vitiata et quidem in iis quae ad dogma aut insigne aliquod historiae caput perti- nerent, nunquam probabitur.’ 58 This is Grotius’s quotation of a law. According to a note, it is the ‘L[ex] U[ltima] C[onsultationis] de Ed[icto] Divi Adriani tollendo’. It is not to be found in the Codex Justiniani, book 6.33: ‘De edicto divi Hadriani tollendo et quemadmodum scriptus heres in possessionem mittatur’, which treats the conditions under which one can object to the contents of a testament. 59 Grotius, De veritate, 3:15, in OOT, vol. 3, 55b, ll. 4–11: ‘Et sufficere quidem haec, quae diximus, possent adversus eos qui Scripturae mutationem obiiciunt, cum qui id affirmet, praesertim adversus scripturam diu lateque receptam, is, quod intendit, probare ipse debeat: at nos, quo magis patescat illius obiectionis vanitas, ostendemus id quod illi factum fingunt, nec factum esse, nec potuisse fieri.’ 144 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

Although they were widely dispersed, it was impossible for the New Testament to have been falsified, due to its being guarded by the churches (and not some because of some private control of the text). The early Syriac, Ethiopian, Arabic, and Latin translations show no discrepancies at all in the important passages. No one during the first three centuries had sufficient authority to change the text: not even Irenaeus, Tertullian, or Cyprian, all of whom often freely held opinions which differed from those of other eminent churchmen. In later times, the Church Fathers painstakingly investigated the text, which they possessed in its original purity. The various Christian sects all relied on the same version of the New Testament, and no sect ever managed to change the text according to their own will. It would also have gone against God’s will to allow different versions to come into being, for that would have led people to errors they could not help making.60 So whereas on the one hand, Grotius is realistic enough to acknowledge that Scripture has changed over time, he unrealistically posits that this evolutionary textual process had not occurred during the first two centuries of Christianity. Here, the historical frame of Grotius’s textual criticism is clearly linked to his religious-political ideal of Christian unity through a focus on the earliest Church. In his annotations on the Old Testament, Grotius put aside some major problems: in the Septuagint, the structure of the book of Jeremiah and the beginning of the book of Ezra deviate from what appears in the Hebrew Masoretic text. The Septuagint did help Grotius to correct interpretations in Jerome’s Vulgate, but he never went so far as to question the Hebrew text, even if he had access to collations of Codex Alexandrinus.61 Grotius’s textual source criticism in the Old Testament commentary was limited. Of course, clay tablets, papyri, and Dead Sea Scrolls had yet to be discovered, and indeed there had been hardly any reliable archaeological findings, so historical information had to be derived from surviving, fragmentary texts.62 One example of Grotius’s Old Testament textual criticism shows him accounting for the difference between the two versions of the Decalogue (Exodus 20 and Deuteronomy 5). In Exodus, the Ten Commandments were pronounced by God. In Deuteronomy, Moses spoke the Commandments in an address to ‘all Israel’, but he did so by citing from memory. According to Grotius, Moses took the liberty of changing the word order, using synonyms and omit- ting things that were already known from the book of Exodus.63 The problem of differences within the Pentateuch is explained here by an imaginative historical method, but this was tantamount to saying that Moses had a bad memory. In addition, linguistic anachronisms in the book of Ecclesiastes made Grotius deny that Solomon was its author: the book contained words that occurred for

60 Grotius, De veritate, 3:15, in ibid., OOT, vol. 3, 55b–56a. 61 Graf Reventlow, ‘Humanistic Exegesis’, 177. 62 ibid., 179. 63 Laplanche, L’é c r i t u r e , 335. Grotius’s Annotationes on the Bible (1619–1645) 145 the first time only in the books of Daniel and Ezra and in the Aramaic paraphrases, the Targumim. On the basis of similar linguistic arguments, he tried to date the book of Job.64 This brings us to the subject of chronology. From the start, Grotius recognized chronology as a problematic subject. As early as Genesis 5:18 he noted that the numbers indicating the ages of the patriarchs show many discrepancies in the different manuscripts and versions written in Hebrew, Samaritan, and Greek, admitting that on this subject he had ‘nothing better to say than what the highly erudite Louis Cappel said in his Critica sacra’, even if he did not quote Cappel.65 Interestingly, the Critica sacra had not yet been published when Grotius wrote this, but he had seen a draft of the work.66 There can hardly be any doubt that he looked at chapter 10, ‘On variant readings caused by the changing of proper names and numerals’.67 The subject of chronology had a long history, and would continue to exercise the most scrupulous minds of the century.68 Grotius might just as well have quoted his erstwhile master Joseph Scaliger when discussing the variation of the numbers in different manuscripts and textual traditions. The discussion of corruption in biblical numerals foreshadowed the public debate between Isaac Vossius and Georgius Hornius on the age of the world (see chapter 8). Whereas Grotius accepted that Methuselah died at the age of 969, as it says in Genesis 5:27, he was prepared to emend the text if that would help give a historical interpretation of prophecies. Thus, he suggested that in Isaiah 7:8, where it was prophesied that ‘within sixty and five years Ephraim shall be broken’, it should in fact read ‘six and five years’, for eleven years would pass between the moment Isaiah spoke and the event to which the prophecy, according to Grotius, pointed forward to, namely the abduction of the ten tribes during the Assyrian conquest of the Northern Kingdom. In Isaiah 23, the prophet predicts the restoration of the city of Tyre after seventy years. According to Grotius, this ought to beseven years, for that was how long it took to break Salmanasar’s siege of the city and thus to restore Tyre’s former lustre.69 Grotius’s historical approach towards the Bible led him to formulate the hermeneutical conviction that the prophets had to refer to their own times or to things happening in their own near, imaginable future, otherwise their words would have made no sense for their audiences. On the basis of this historicist method, in which he tried to imagine a Jewish public located in time, Grotius was compelled to adapt the text to fit what he saw as its historicity.70

64 ibid., 336. 65 Grotius, Annotationes ad Vetus Testamentum, in OOT, vol. 1, 8: ‘De multis discrepantiis quae in hoc et sequentibus capitibus circa numeros annorum apparent in codicibus Hebraeis, Samaritanis, Graecis, nihil melius quod dicam habeo, quam quae dixit in Critico sacro eruditissimus Capellus.’ 66 Cappel to Grotius, 10 October 1639, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 10, 658, no. 4330. 67 Cappel, Critica sacra, 34–9. 68 See Grafton, ‘Scaliger’s Chronology’. 69 Kuenen, ‘Hugo de Groot als uitlegger’, 319. 70 Nellen, Hugo de Groot, 491 and (for the Old Testament) 513; Levitin, ‘From Sacred History to the History of Religion’, 1129–30. 146 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

Grotius’s textual criticism of the New Testament is more sophisticated than that of the Old Testament, as discussed above: there are many variants to be found among the Greek texts. Time and again he signals the variants between the text he used (the 1613 edition by Franciscus Raphelengius Jr 71) and Codex Alexandrinus. In discussing John 6:36 (‘That ye also have seen me, and believe not’), Grotius notes that ‘that ancient manuscript’ has ‘believe not me’. 72 At John 6:45 (‘Every man therefore that hath heard, and hath learned of the Father, cometh unto me’) Grotius points out that after ‘hath learned’ Codex Alexandrinus added ‘truth’.73 The much contested verse in Romans 11:6 (‘And if by grace, then is it no more of works: otherwise grace is no more grace. But if it be of works, then it is no more grace: otherwise work is no more work’) receives plenty of attention from Grotius. The second half of the verse is not found in Codex Alexandrinus, and early Church Fathers such as Jerome, Origen, Ambrose, and Chrysostom do not cite it, even if they could have made good use of it. Here, Grotius includes the Church Fathers not to underscore a theological point, but to provide a rationale for textual-critical remarks. Codex Alexandrinus, finally, also leads Grotius to reject the Comma Johanneum (1 John 5:7–8). It is not in the Alexandrinus, and the version he was working from also leaves out the words ‘and the three are one’, which are in the Syriac and Arabic translations.74 On historical grounds, Grotius conjectured that the first verse of 2 Peter would have read ‘Simon, servant of Jesus Christ’ and not ‘Simon Peter, servant and apostle of Jesus Christ’. I think that if anyone would find copies of this letter older than the ones we have, he would find it thus. In the Syriac version, this Epistle is not extant. Tertullian never uses a testimony taken from here.75 What matters here is not whether Grotius was correct; what is important is that he attempted to explain historical incongruities and that he questioned traditional assumptions relating to the status of the text.76

71 De Jonge, ‘Hugo Grotius: exégète’, 108, n. 27. 72 The reading ‘πιστεύτετε μοι’ is not recorded in the critical apparatus of Nestle-Aland, Novum Testamentum (27th edn). 73 Again, this addition is not listed in the critical apparatus of Nestle-Aland, Novum Testamentum (27th edn). 74 Grotius, In I. Epistolam Iohannis 5:7–8, in OOT, vol. 2–2, 1143. See British Library, Ms. Royal 1 D.VIII, 109, second column, seventh line from the bottom. I am indebted to Henk Nellen, however, for pointing out that the words ‘and the three are one’ are, in fact, in Codex Alexandrinus (sixth and fifth lines from the bottom in the British Library copy). Grotius apparently worked from a flawed collation of Codex Alexandrinus. 75 Grotius, Annotationes in Epistolam quae Petri altera dicitur, in OOT, vol. 2–2, 1113: ‘Credo ita comperturum si quis antiquiora quam nos habemus Epistolae huius exemplaria invenerit. In Syrorum libris veteribus abest haec Epistola. Tertullianus numquam deprompto hinc testimonio utitur.’ 76 De Jonge, ‘Hugo Grotius: exégète’, 105. Grotius’s Annotationes on the Bible (1619–1645) 147

Grotius is imaginative enough to reconstruct the agendas of the apostles and to ascribe discrepancies among the four gospels to the evangelists’ individual choices in organizing their material: they maintain different chronologies. What they describe is the truth, even if Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John locate the anointing of Jesus in Bethany at different times: ‘It is crystal clear that many things are related by the authors of the gospels not in chronological order, but according to the structure of the things.’ In other words, the evangelists had literary and narrative intentions prevail over factual chronology (but not over historical truth).77 See also his comment at Luke 22:21: ‘Luke connects various sermons of Christ with no regard for their order.’78 Grotius was independent enough to dismiss a conjecture by his venerated master, Joseph Scaliger. In Mark 9:49 it reads: πᾶς γὰρ πυρὶ ἁλισθήσεται For every one shall be salted with fire. As we have seen in chapter 1, Scaliger had proposed to amend this passage, because ‘to salt something with fire’ did not make sense. The expression ‘thou art the salt of the earth’ shed no light either; according to Scaliger, the salt was sprinkled over burnt offerings (or burnings):79 πᾶσα γὰρ πυρία ἁλισθήσεται For all burnings shall be salted. asheh, Leviticus 2:9): an offering made by fire. The) אִ ּׁשֶ ה The Greek πυρία translates offering, a meat offering, is ‘wholly burnt’ (holokautos, as the Septuagint has it at Leviticus. 6:23). In Mark 9:49, Jesus refers to the burning of a meat offering in Leviticus 2:9, and the differences are due to those who transmitted Jesus’s words in Greek. So πυρία refers not to the fire but to a meat offering to be burnt by fire. Grotius disagreed: I remember that the incomparable Joseph Scaliger said to me80 that this reading ought to be changed and written as for all burnings. According to him, puría or burning was a new word, coined by Mark to convey the meaning of the Hebrew word asheh. But that word burning is not found in any Greek or Hellenistic author.

77 Grotius, Ad Matthaeum 26:6, in OOT, vol. 2–1, 243a, ll. 11–13. Taken from and cited after De Jonge, ‘Hugo Grotius: exégète’, 106–7, which partly relies on an early version of what De Lang later published as De opkomst, 127–8 (there, n. 10). 78 Grotius, Ad Lucam, 22:21, in OOT, vol. 2–1, 450b, ll. 47–9. 79 See Scaliger to Servin, 13 December 1595; Scaliger to De Thou, 13 December 1595; and Scaliger to De Laet, 2 February 1606, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 2, 576–7 and 579–81; and vol. 6, 291; also discussed in De Jonge, ‘Hugo Grotius: exégète’, 110; De Jonge, ‘The Study of the New Testament’, 83 and 106 (n. 185). 80 This reference to a conversation shows that this was a favourite subject for Scaliger: he mentioned it three times in his letters, he used it in his Elenchus Serarii, and it appears in the second series of notes in the Genevensia, at Mark 9:49. See De Jonge, ‘Eine Konjektur Joseph Scaligers’, 299, n. 7. 148 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

The Hebrew asheh is usually closely translated by the Hellenists as kártoma (something plucked off or offered). Besides, such a large consensus of manuscripts restrains me from venturing to change anything. And it is not necessary either, for the words as they are make enough sense and if I’m not mistaken, they fit this passage very well.81 He then proceeds to give two examples in which the unchanged reading πᾶς means ‘every one’ (in verses of Aristophanes and Sophocles, and in Luke 6:40 and 16:16). Two things are important here. First, as Henk Jan de Jonge has pointed out, it is interesting to note that Grotius, despite his boundless respect for Scaliger, had the courage to contradict him. This is a sign of the independence of Grotius’s thought. It is far easier to disagree with enemies than to contradict friends. Second, Grotius’s annotation demonstrates a common-sense philological procedure: do not attempt a conjectural emendation if the manuscripts of various traditions all agree on an unproblematic reading as it is. Of course, had there been a problem with the reading, Scaliger’s conjecture could have made sense, precisely because it was a less likely reading (the rule difficilior lectio praestat was not yet formulated as such, but Scaliger, of course, had enough experience and intuition to grasp the principle). But in this case, there was really no need to change anything at all.82 There are other occasions when Grotius emphasizes the harmony of manuscripts. In his comment on Luke 11:53, after having pointed out that some codices have the variant reading ‘to confine’ instead of the Textus Receptus’s ‘to urge’ (i.e., συνέχειν, instead of ἐνέχειν), he moves to the next verb, the somewhat odd verb ἀποστοματίζειν (to interrogate; catechize; provoke to speak). Here he uses the argument that agreement among many manuscripts ‘stabilize’ (stabiliunt) a given reading. He combines manuscript evidence with an imaginative insight into the historical background of Luke and the educational setting he must have known: There seems to be no reason to discard this reading, which is stabilized by so many manuscripts. This is one of those words through which Luke shows profound command of the Greek language. For apistomatízein is of course a word taken from the context of school. Schoolmasters used to have the more experienced students tutor the younger ones by having them interrogate these.83

81 Grotius, Ad Marcum, in OOT, vol. 2–1, 316a, l. 52–316b, l. 2: ‘Memini virum incomparabilem Iosephum Scaligerum mihi dicere mutandam lectionem, et scribendum πᾶσα γὰρ πυρία ἁλισθήσεται [omnis enim ignitio]. Volebat autem πυρίαν [ignitionem] vocem esse novam a Marco Sed ea vox πυρὶα [ignitio] neque apud .אשה confictam ad exprmendam vim vocis Hebraeae id ferme κάρπωμα אשה Graecum neque aud Hellenistam ullum legitur. Quod autem Hebraeis est [decerptionem sive oblationem] solent vertere Hellenistae. Praeterea ne quid mutare audeam absterret tanta codicum consensio: neque vero necesse est, cum non desit ita conceptis verbis sensus satis commodus et huic loco, ni fallor, optime conveniens.’ 82 Indeed, it is puzzling why Scaliger suggested an emendation in the first place. A tentative explanation is that he did so to show off his virtuosity. 83 Grotius, Ad Lucam, in OOT, vol. 2–1, 403b, ll. 27–33: ‘Non videtur discedendum ab hac lectione quam tot codices stabiliunt. Et haec una est vocum in quibus intimam peritiam Graeci sermonis Grotius’s Annotationes on the Bible (1619–1645) 149

At Mark 14:22, which describes the Last Supper and Christ’s breaking and handing out of the bread, Grotius points out that some manuscripts quote Christ as saying not only ‘Take’, but also ‘eat’. The latter word had been inserted by scribes on the basis of the parallel passage in Matthew. ‘For the ancient paraphrases do not have it, and it is not in certain manuscripts.’ Thus also in verse 34 (‘tarry ye here, and watch’) some manuscripts have the addition ‘with me,’ supplied from Matthew 26:38 (‘tarry ye here, and watch with me’).84 The pericope of the adulterous woman is rejected by Grotius. It did not originally belong to the Greek text of John. The now lost Hebrew Matthew had it (according to Eusebius, who relied on Papias (see chapter 2, section 2.4, ‘Franciscus Gomarus: The Biblical Philologist, n. 71). Grotius thought that the Hebrew Matthew edited by Münster was different from this original Hebrew gospel85), but it was likewise a later addition. The Church authorized the pericope, for it derived from the trustworthy mouths of the apostles. This is the reason that the pericope is to be found neither in the ancient Greek codices nor in the Syriac translation, although it is in some Latin and later Greek Bibles, as well as in the Arabic translation. So why had the apostles omitted this true story? Here, social history helps Grotius in explaining matters of textual variation: the Christians could be accused of going against public law (i.e., the law of Moses; the Pharisees let the woman go, but did so clearly because of Jesus’s intervention).86 The expression ‘let him who is without sin, cast the first stone’, is of course still used to prevent people from judging others, or perhaps even to dissuade people from executing the law. Grotius analysed the New Testament on the basis of the 1613 Greek edition by Raphelengius, and often took into account the Syriac versions (most frequently the Peshitta), the Latin Vulgate, and the Arabic translation, which Erpenius published in 1616 and of which he gave a copy to Grotius. Of course, this method of using early translations to get past the established Hebrew Masoretic text and back to an earlier version of the text was quite common in Grotius’s time.87 This brings us to the question of languages.

Linguistics

In Grotius’s commentary on the Old Testament, many of his remarks are no more than paraphrases. Often, he illuminates the meaning or range of different meanings of a word.88 Grotius focuses on those passages that are historically or

Lucas ostendit. Nam ἀποστοματίζειν plane vox est de Schola sumta. Solebant Magistri Scholarum provectiores discipulos iunioribus praeficere, ut illi hos interrogarent.’ 84 Ad Marcum, in ibid., 324a, ll. 14–18. No witnesses of the addition ‘with me’ are listed in the critical apparatus of Nestle-Aland Novum Testamentum (27th edn, ad Marcum 14:34). 85 Grotius, Ad Matthaeum, in OOT, vol. 2–1, 4a, ll. 25–60; 4b, ll. 9–16. 86 Grotius, Ad Johannem 7:53–8:11, in ibid., 515a, l. 61–515b, l. 15. 87 De Jonge, ‘Hugo Grotius: exégète,’ 108–9. 88 Graf Reventlow, ‘Humanistic Exegesis’, 177. 150 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic grammatically unclear.89 In the use of technical vocabulary and idiom, he often adduces parallels from texts of pagan antiquity, thus contextualizing the linguistic mind-set of the producers and early users of the Bible. In the New Testament, Grotius often translates into Latin, thereby taking the Vulgate as his basis, although he does not always follow it. I list some examples from chapter 10 of Mark as an arbitrary but representative example. At Mark 10:4 the Vulgate translates ἐπέτρεψε as praecepit, whereas Grotius silently uses prae scripsit. And where the Vulgate in the same chapter translates ἔρχονται εἰς Ιεριχώ (‘they came to Jericho’) as veniunt Iericho (where Iericho obviously is an accusative of direction), Grotius silently adds a preposition: veniunt in Iericho. On other occasions, Grotius makes explicit his divergence from the Vulgate. At Mark 10:22 (which describes a rich man’s disappointment after Jesus told him to sell his property, give the money to the poor, and follow him) the Greek has στυγνάσας (sad), which Grotius translates as vultum contrahens (drawing his face together, i.e., frowning): As the word λυόυμενος (tristatus: saddened) follows after it, the word στυγνάσας seems to me to refer to the young man’s face rather than to his mind, as if you would say ‘with a clouded face’. For it also says ‘a sad heaven’ [a troubled heaven] in Matthew 16:3.90 Here, the Vulgate simply translates στυγνάσας as contristatus (saddened) and the synonymous λυόυμενος as moerans (being sad). At Mark 10:17 a man bowing before Jesus is said to γονυπετήσας αὐτὀν, to fall on his knees [before] him. The verb seems to govern an accusative (‘him’) without a preposition, which has to be supplied. The Vulgate translates genu flexo ante eum, ‘with bowed knees before him’. Grotius translates genu flexo eum honorans, ‘with bowed knees honouring him’. He explains that Mark 1:40 also reads γονυπετῶν αὐτὀν [flexo genu eum honorans]. Likewise the Greek verb ‘to adore’ sometimes governs a dative (as in Matthew 2:2, 2:8, and 2:11) and elsewhere an accusative (as in Matthew 4:10, Luke 4:8—which is, in fact, a citation from Deuteronomy—Luke 24:52, and John 4:22). But all these references do not clarify anything regarding Grotius’s choice to introduce the word ‘honouring’ in his translation. Perhaps he thought that the object of the Greek word for ‘adoring’ could be either accusative or dative and that another action expressing adoration or respect (kneeling before someone) could therefore also govern an accusative (without a preposition ‘before’) instead of a dative, the case one would have expected. Instances like these show the haste with which Grotius must have worked.

89 Van Unnik, ‘Hugo Grotius’, 192. 90 Grotius, Ad Marcum 10:22, in OOT, vol. 2–1, 318b, ll. 41–5: ‘Cum sequatur λυόυμενος [tristatus], videtur mihi στυγνάσας ad vultum magis quam an animum pertinere, quasi dicas fronte nubila. Nam et οὐρανὸς στυγνάζων [coelum turbidum] est apud. Matth. XVI.3’ Grotius’s Annotationes on the Bible (1619–1645) 151

At the end of Mark 10:21, Grotius mentions three words which are in the Textus Receptus: ἄρας τὸν σταυρόν (crucem subiens): ‘going under the cross’, i.e., taking the cross on the shoulder. He fails to mention that these words are not in the Vulgate. Eight verses later, he mentions two other words that are in the Textus Receptus but not the Vulgate (ἤ γυναῖκα). This time he points out that the reading is uncertain, even if the Syriac translation and some manuscripts also have it. Grotius sees no reason to accept it and argues against it, thus contradicting the Textus Receptus.91 Another deviation from the Latin Vulgate is Mark 10:42, where Grotius translates the Greek οἱ δοκοῦντες ἄρχειν (those who seem to rule, or, as the Vulgate has it, qui videntur principari) as qui honorem habent imperandi, ‘those who have the honour to rule’. The Greek verb ‘to seem’ here means ‘to be in the honour of’, Grotius explains. It is used in that sense in Galatians 2:2 and 2:6 (where it means ‘to seem to be something’, or, as the Vulgate has it, qui videntur aliquid esse). This would mean that the Greek δοκοῦντες should be translated as ‘those who seem to be something’. Using that phrase in connection with the verb ‘to rule’ produces the awkward reading ‘those who appear to be something to rule’, hence Grotius’s translation ‘those who have the honour to rule’. A final instance at which Grotius (consciously) deviates from the Vulgate occurs in Mark 10:50. The Greek of the Textus Receptus has ἀναστὰς (rising), which Grotius correctly translates as surgens (the Syriac translation has it, he remarks). Jerome, however, used the word exiliens (jumping up), which would have been a translation of the Greek word ἀναπηδήσας. Some manuscripts indeed put forth this reading, but according to Grotius ἀναπηδήσας had been inserted into the Greek manuscripts, replacing ἀναστὰς, so that the Greek text would accord with the Vulgate. ‘This happened in a few places, as we observed.’92 Here, then, Grotius endorsed the reading of the Textus Receptus. Not only did Grotius provide a corrected version of the Vulgate, he practically paraphrased large portions of the Bible. He did not translate or paraphrase every single word in every single verse (in Mark 10, discussed above, he skipped verses 36–41 altogether, and in his annotations on the Old Testament, he ignored most verses). But instances such as the following notes at Romans 11:13 and John 6:42 are characteristic of his way of paraphrasing the text: Romans 11:13 τὴν διακονίαν μου δοξάζω. ministerium meum honorificabo] Meae tunc operae felicitatem praedico, cum dico multos esse ex Gentibus conversos. I will magnify my service. I will honour my ministry] I then declare the felicity of my job when I say that many of the gentiles have converted.

91 Grotius, Ad Marcum 10:29, in ibid., 319a, ll. 8–21. 92 Grotius, Ad Marcum 10:50, in ibid., 319b, ll. 12–16. 152 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

John 6:42 πῶς νῦν λέγει ὅυτος ὁτι ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ καταβέβηκα; quomodo ergo dicit hic: quia de coelo descendi?] Quomodo verum id esse potest si natus est humano more? How now the same man says that from heaven he came down? How is it then that he saith, I came down from heaven?] How can this be true if he was born in the human way? Here Grotius, not only gave Latin translations of the Greek, but also clarified what had been going on in the mind of Paul in the first instance, and those of the people listening to Jesus in the second. Such paraphrases demonstrate the power of Grotius’s imaginative historicism: he put himself in the place of the historical actors. He did the same with regard to the language that the people in the time of Jesus and the apostles must have heard and spoken. Grotius ascribed deviations from Koine Greek to the influence of Syriac.93 ‘My books and those which I edited and will edit, show that Jews who are called Hellenistic are those who used the Greek language in the Synagogues. But their language was full of Syriac expressions, which were very different from pure Greek.’94 Like the translators and revisers of the States’ Translation, and like Heinsius, Grotius treats the etymology of the word eucharistia. Paul (at 1 Corinthians 7:14) characterized the eucharist (a thanksgiving) as a prayer (precatio).95 Luke and Paul speak of ‘giving thanks’, but the translator of Matthew’s original Hebrew into Greek, as well as Mark, both spoke of ‘blessing’, although some Greek manuscripts read ‘to give thanks’ here as well. The Jews and Hellenists often foreshortened formulas. Where they should have said ‘to praise God over something’ they said ‘to bless something’. In the end there is no difference between eucharistein (to give thanks) and eulogein (to bless). We remember that the States’ Translation revisers concluded that eulogein could mean both ‘to give thanks’ and ‘to bless’ and that they combined these two meanings in their translation.96 For the same passage, addressing the imperative ‘eat’, Grotius revisited types of offerings and their names. Etymology plays a part in Grotius’s annotation on the ‘blood of the New Testament’ (Matthew 26:28): blood has a sanctifying power. It is no coincidence that the Latin word for blood (sanguis) shares the same root as sanction. The offering of an animal shows what awaits the one who breaks the promise. The same applied to libations. Take Homer, who writes ‘as this wine flows, may thus his brains flow out’. Tacitus in the Agricola speaks of sanctifying a bond through

93 Van Unnik, ‘Hugo Grotius’, 193. 94 Grotius to W. de Groot, 12 October 1641, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 12, 565, no. 5412: ‘Mei libri et quos edidi et quos editurus sum ostendent Hellenistas dictos Iudaeos qui in Synagogis Graeca lingua utebantur; eorum vero sermonem plenum fuisse locutionum Syriacarum a puritate Graeca longe abeuntium.’ 95 Grotius, Ad Matthaeum 26:26, in OOT, vol. 2–1, 250b, ll. 20–3. 96 See chapter 3, section 3.4, ‘Revising the New Testament’, n. 79. Grotius’s Annotationes on the Bible (1619–1645) 153 an offering. So when Luke and Paul speak of ‘the new testament in my blood’, they mean: a covenant sanctified in Christ’s blood. Along with etymology, grammar is important, particularly in the interpretation of the Hebrew verbal system, which is wholly different to the Greek system. Thus at John 6:51 Grotius observes that a qal form is often used in the Hebrew instead of a hiphil, whereas at Acts 13:18 he says that niphal is often used instead of hithpael. Sometimes Grotius contradicts himself: at Matthew 26:28 he gives instances from the New Testament where a Greek present tense should be interpreted semantically as a future tense. But in Romans 8:31 the future tense of ἐροῦμεν ought to be regarded as a present tense. Grotius often explores the semantic fields of words and the subtle differences between Hebrew and Greek,97 taking manners of speaking into account. ‘It is akin to all oriental peoples to use abstract concepts instead of concrete ones.’98

History

A first major aspect of Grotius’s historicizing method is his downplaying of the Bible’s divine inspiration. Early Christian tradition is important because the apostles spoke many words which they themselves did not record, but which others wrote down and passed on.99 According to Grotius, divine inspiration was limited to the speech of the prophets, the Book of Revelation, the predic- tions of the apostles, and, of course, Christ’s own words. The historical books and the books of wisdom were written in a pious spirit, but were not inspired.100 Likewise, it was not necessary for the evangelists to have been inspired: they told stories, not prophecies.101 A second important aspect is Grotius’s systematic indication of textual and historical parallels between biblical and pagan texts—and their contexts.102 Such parallels pleased Willem de Groot, even if he feared that in the future ‘there will be men who will consider illicit and profane every comparison of those

97 See, e.g., his discussions of Romans 11:10 and 11:11. 98 Grotius, Ad Romanos 8:38, in OOT, vol. 2–2, 725: ‘Est autem omnium populorum Orientalium abstracta usurpare pro concretis.’ 99 Van Unnik, ‘Hugo Grotius’, 188. 100 Grotius, Rivetiani apologetici discussio, in OOT, vol. 3, 722b–723a; this anonymously published work, which appeared shortly before Grotius’s death in 1645, is written in the third person; see TMD, Bibliographie de Grotius, no. 1195. Grotius, Animadversiones in Animadversiones Riveti, in OOT, vol. 3, 647b, ll. 37–49. See also Van Unnik, ‘Hugo Grotius’, 187. 101 Grotius, Votum pro pace ecclesiastica, in OOT, vol. 3, 672 b, ll. 53–6: ‘Sed a Spiritu Sancto dictari historias nihil fuit opus: satis fuit scriptorem memoria valere circa res spectatas, aut dili- gentia in describendis veterum commentariis.’ Cited by De Lang, De opkomst, 129. See also Nellen, Hugo de Groot, 510. 102 Laplanche, ‘Grotius et les religions du paganisme’. 154 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic mentioned in the Bible with pagans’.103 These words proved prophetic. Certainly Van Unnik is wrong to conclude that these parallels never served to place the New Testament in the larger context of the history of the world and that Grotius turned a blind eye to purely historical questions, but he is right to acknowledge Grotius’s attempts to explain the prophecies in Old and New Testaments with historical data.104 According to Van Unnik, purely historical questions did not interest Grotius; if Grotius historicizes, he does so uncritically.105 But Van Unnik himself is severely prejudiced when he accuses Grotius of failing to use history to advance a ‘more correct opinion of the Bible’106 but to defend tradition, an interpretation which departs from the silent assumption that anti-traditionalism, which Van Unnik himself (a Quaker) subscribed to, leads to a ‘more correct’ understanding of the Bible.107 As Grotius declared in his preface, Jerome and Chrysostom were to be praised for their ‘knowledge of the Hebrew language, geography and history’.108 This sets the stage. But it must be pointed out that Grotius himself, in his use of Hebrew sources, relied mostly on secondary literature or on bilingual editions of the source texts (Hebrew, with Latin translations). According to Peter van Rooden, references to such sources were usually borrowed from the writings of Constantin L’Empereur, Menasseh ben Israel, the younger Johannes Buxtorf, Sixtinus Amama, Johannes Drusius, François Vatable, Sebastian Münster, and Paul Fagius.109 So Grotius also made use of intermediate texts. In fact, Grotius’s commentary is the first attempt to explain the entire Bible against its historical, pagan background. Like his mentor Scaliger, Grotius con- firms the existence of profane kings such as Nebuchadnezzar by consulting pagan sources such as Berosus and the Greek historians of the Persian Empire.110 The importance for our argument lies in Grotius’s adoption of this method, even if his conclusions were often incorrect.111 Due to the lack of historical evidence, much of the historicization of the Bible was imaginative: the result of identifying parallels and assuming that they signified linkages in a tradition

103 W. de Groot to Grotius, 28 November 1644, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 16, 185, no. 7169: ‘… futuros putem qui omnem eorum qui in sacris nominantur litteris cum iis qui inter profanos vixere comparationem pro illicita et profana habituri sint’. 104 Van Unnik, ‘Hugo Grotius’, 192 and 193. 105 ibid., 193 and 194. 106 ibid., p, 193: ‘Bij zijn Schriftbeschouwing is opmerkelijk dat hij het inspiratie-geloof vrijwel geheel laat vallen en sterken nadruk op het historische, maar de ruimte die hij daarmee maakte voor een juistere Bijbelopvatting, sloot hij direct af met zijn Traditie-gedachte.’ 107 For a critique (alongside praise) of Van Unniks partisan interpretation, see De Jonge, De bestudering, 72–6. 108 Grotius, ‘Lectori’, in Annotationes ad Vetus Testamentum, in OOT, vol. 1: ‘Veterum qui Commentarios scripsere utilissimum reperi Hieronymum, ob linguae Hebraeae locorumque ac historiarum notitiam. Et tamen in quibusdam plus ipso vidit Chrysostomus, Iudaeorum ope quos Antiochiae noverat.’ 109 Van Rooden, L’Empereur, 144–5, n. 186; Nellen, Hugo de Groot, 512–13. 110 Graf Reventlow, ‘Humanistic Exegesis’, 179. 111 Kuenen, ‘Hugo de Groot als uitlegger’, 313–15; Graf Reventlow, ‘Humanistic Exegesis’, 179 and 183. Grotius’s Annotationes on the Bible (1619–1645) 155 that saw pagan customs transformed into Jewish and Christian practices. When pointing out the similarities between the fragments of Greek poetry compiled by the anthologist Stobaeus and Solomon’s collection of proverbs, he implies that there was ‘some kind of cultural continuum between the Hebrew tradition on the one side, and the Greek and Roman traditions on the other’.112 More broadly speaking, Grotius ‘evokes the economic, political, social, and cultural world which is represented in the works of ancient geographers and historians in order to set the stage for an understanding of Israel’s history as part of the history of the Mediterranean countries in antiquity’.113 And so, following Scaliger, he attached more authority to Flavius Josephus than to Matthew regarding the death of John the Baptist.114 And where Josephus calls the ex- husband of Herodias ‘Herod’, whereas he is called ‘Philippus’ by Matthew (14:3) and Mark (6:7), Grotius harmonizes these biblical and non-biblical accounts by supposing that the king had a double name, Philippus Herodes.115 We have seen this type of solution before: Franciscus Junius and Franciscus Gomarus explained away the attribution of a prophecy of Zechariah to Jeremiah in Matthew by concluding that the prophet referred to simply had a double name.116 Grotius himself came up with another solution for this famous crux, which, as we have seen, had been discussed by Beza, Scaliger, Drusius, Gomarus, and Heinsius, and in the States’ Translation. Grotius showed an awareness of how intertextuality would have operated in the prophets’ times, positing that Zechariah often quoted Jeremiah, and that the prophecy ‘is here cited by Christ [sic; i.e., Matthew] under the name of the first author, although it is not found among the writings by him’.117 In other instances, where citations from the Old Testament in the New Testament are incorrect, the faulty quotations are blamed on Paul, who cited by heart and ‘expressed the sense well, and most of the words [i.e., not all words], but not so scrupulously’.118 Reconstructions of the Bible’s cultural contexts pervade the Annotationes. On every page, Grotius points out parallels—or even outright legal, ritual, and literary continuities— between the pagan and Christian worlds. When it came to legal matters, take, for example, Grotius’s long note on taxation at Matthew 22:17. He explains Roman taxation customs on the basis of the Pandects, a laudatory address on the Emperor Constantine, and remarks by Ammianus Marcellinus on Julius Caesar. In the Roman Empire, for example in Gaul, taxes were levied not only on the harvest, but also on individual persons.

112 Bultmann, ‘Beyond the Vulgate’, 98. 113 ibid., 100. 114 De Lang, De opkomst, 131. 115 This had already been suggested by Cajetanus and Juan de Maldonado; see ibid., 132. 116 See chapter 2, section 2.5, ‘Johannes Drusius’, n. 99. 117 Grotius, Ad Matthaeum 27:9, in OOT, vol. 2–1, 264b, ll. 37–9: ‘hic a Christo citetur primi auctoris nomine, quanquam in libris ab eo scriptis non extat’; cited by De Lang, De opkomst, 133. See also Nellen, Hugo de Groot, 517. 118 Grotius, Ad Romanos 11:9, in OOT, vol. 2–2, 740: ‘Paulus, ut solent qui memoriter aliquid citant, sensum bene expressit, et verba pleraque, non tamen scrupulose.’ 156 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

There was no reason to assume things were different in Judea in the time of Jesus. The census mentioned by Matthew could therefore refer not merely to a tax levied on the harvest, but also to a tax per capita. This is underscored by Ulpian’s third law and, more importantly, by the Syriac translation of this version.119 In the case of ritual matters, Matthew 26:26 offered much material to contextualize Christian ritual within a broader culture of pagan and Jewish rites involving collective meals. To understand both contexts, Grotius plundered Hebrew religious texts and pagan literature. Whereas Grotius’s discussion of one verse usually takes up half or a quarter of a column in the Opera omnia, this particular verse spans six-and-a-half columns: And as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and blessed it, and broke it, and gave it to the disciples, and said, Take, eat; this is my body. Grotius goes to great lengths to identify similarities among Greek customs of wine drinking, Roman offertory practices, and the Last Supper. In Greek culture (Grotius relies on Nicostratos, Xenophon, a scholiast on Aristophanes, and another on the Iliad), thanks was said at the end of a meal, when wine was served. The pagans also shared wine at the table, and the Jewish book of Mishnah teaches us that the wine was diluted with water. ‘This custom also went over to the ancient Christians.’120 Meals and rituals have always gone together. The fifth-century church historian Socrates Scholasticus complained about stuffed people taking part in the mysteries, and Paul condemned the abuses of the Corinthians in partaking of the Lord’s Supper (1 Corinthians 11:21).121 Despite measures to unlink eating from the ritual of the Eucharist, meals continued to be celebrated in churches (as in Pauline times) until the Council of Laodicea (fourth century, c. 364, though the exact date is unknown).122 The Eucharist was a continuation of Jewish practices. Josephus had testified that Jews gave thanks before eating.123 Grotius delved into the practice of eating from the offerings, a custom which prevailed among the Greeks and other pagans. They either copied this from the Hebrews or, more likely, Greeks and Hebrews inherited the practice from shared ancestors.124 In drawing attention to the cannibalistic rituals of human sacrifices amongst the Catilinarii (a locus in Plutarch’s Life of Cicero, 10.3) Grotius came close to deriving the eating of the bread from ancient cannibalistic practices, suggesting a pagan background for early Christian customs. The symbolic

119 Grotius, Ad Matthaeum, 22:17, in ibid., vol. 2–1, 202b, ll. 4–33. 120 Grotius, Ad Matthaeum, 26:27, in ibid., vol. 2–1, 251b, l. 55: ‘Hic quoque mos ad Christianos veteres transit.’ 121 Grotius, Ad Matthaeum, 26:27, in ibid., vol. 2–1, 249a, ll. 30–5. 122 Grotius, Ad Matthaeum, 26:27, in ibid., vol. 2–1, 249a, ll. 52–5. 123 Grotius, Ad Matthaeum, 26:27, in ibid., vol. 2–1, 249b, l. 3. 124 Grotius, Ad Matthaeum, 26:27, in ibid., vol. 2–1, 251a, ll. 17–29. Grotius’s Annotationes on the Bible (1619–1645) 157 meaning of eating is spiritual participation. Moses Maimonides speaks of ‘apprehending with the mind’.125 In Jewish thought, eating and drinking were often paired with a vision of a future world. Grotius offered further parallels: Aristotle is invoked to prove that ‘everything is fed from the things they exist of’, and Galen is quoted as having said that wheat is the matter of the body. It is no coincidence, Grotius continues, that the Arabic word for meat is the same as the Hebrew word for bread. In fact, the Hebrew lechem (bread) is sometimes translated as ‘meat’ in the Old Testament.126 In this way, Grotius reconstructs the historical and symbolic backgrounds of the Eucharist, squarely positioning the new, seemingly exclusively Christian ritual within pre-Greek, Greek, Roman, and Jewish customs, linguistics, and symbolism. The rationale for this type of analysis lies in Grotius’s inclusive view of the nature of the Christian faith: it should be open and accessible to everybody. In Grotius’s own words: Certainly not only in this sacrament, but also in the sacrament of baptism, Christ seems not only to have completely accommodated himself to the Hebrew but also to the pagan capacity to be co-opted into the same covenant.127 So again linguistic and historical contextualization are guided by Grotius’s larger theological-political framework. Grotius accepted the historical veracity and the authority of the New Testament on the basis of what comes across as a shallow historical perspective: the apostles had nothing to gain by lying,128 God would not have allowed the Bible to be replete with lies, and miracles prove the veracity of Jesus’s teachings.129 The miracles are true because many witnessed them, and those who would have had a vested interest in denying them at the time did not do so. This principle is in complete accord with the historical principles of Grotius’s time: eyewitness accounts were accepted as true, in particular if the witness had no intention or reason to lie. Thus, the books of the Bible are written by those whose names they bear, and dispute is possible only if such names are lacking.130 Yet Grotius emphasized that each book had to be regarded independently as a self-contained text and that it was not very helpful to consider the Bible as a unity deserving a global interpretation. Hence, John’s gospel differs from the other three because it was written in a different context and for a different audience: John was engaged in a polemic against Judaizing Christians,

125 Grotius, Ad Matthaeum, in ibid., vol. 2–1, 251a, ll. 54–6. 126 Grotius, Ad Matthaeum, in ibid., vol. 2–1, 251b, ll. 37–43. 127 Grotius, Ad Matthaeum, in ibid., vol. 2–1, 252a, ll. 50–3: ‘Certe non in hoc tantum sed et in Baptismi sacramento videtur omnino Christus se non Hebraeorum tantum sed et Gentium in idem fedus cooptandarum captui accommodasse.’ 128 Grotius, De veritate, 3.6. 129 Graf Reventlow, ‘Humanistic Exegesis’, 187; De Jonge, ‘Hugo Grotius: exégète’, 98. Cf. Grotius, De veritate, 3.7. 130 Graf Reventlow, ‘Humanistic Exegesis’, 178. See Grotius, De veritate, 3.2–3. 158 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic followers of John the Baptist, and especially Gnostics.131 The historical status of Luke’s gospel was different from that of other gospels, for Luke was not an eyewitness to the things he described, and he relied, as he himself stated, on other accounts. Luke himself had not been divinely inspired. Grotius underscores the historical position of the books of the Old Testament by emphasizing the need to first study each book (as in the New Testament) independently. Only then could their interdependence be established.132 An example of this principle is found in Grotius’s theory that Ecclesiastes was not written by Solomon himself, but only later attributed to him, for many of the words the author used are to be otherwise found only in the later books of Daniel and Ezra and in Aramaic translations. Another example of historically relating the biblical books to one another was Grotius’s re-dating of Job to the time of the Babylonian Captivity (sixth century bc, instead of the second mil- lennium bc).133 When it comes to the status of the prophecies, Grotius’s first concern, as we have seen, is to identify references to direct historical circumstances or events occurring shortly afterwards. Additional prophetic interpretations (christological, eschatological, or merely historical) are often possible, for Grotius does acknowledge the divine inspiration of the prophecies.134 The prophecies are applicable to the times of Christ and the evangelists as well, although in a more complicated manner.135 Grotius is also down to earth when he interprets the books of the New Testament: the apostolic letters were written for specific audiences located in particular times and places, and they are not meant to serve as a corpus of doctrinal texts or rules to organize the Church.136 The authors belonged to a complex, pluriform culture: a Hellenistic culture, of which first-century Jewish people were part.137 Grotius’s eye for historical circumstances is exemplified by a remark found in his gloss on Romans 8:35, where he says that in the time of Herod (Acts 12), oppression of Christians had not yet reached the intensity of later persecutions. Interestingly, Grotius saw the biblical books themselves as forming a historical sequence in which revelation about the future kept pace with the gradual

131 De Jonge, ‘Hugo Grotius: exégète’, 102. 132 Graf Reventlow, ‘Humanistic Exegesis’, 180. 133 Kuenen, ‘Hugo de Groot als uitlegger’, 317; Graf Reventlow, ‘Humanistic Exegesis’, 183. 134 Kuenen, ‘Hugo de Groot als uitlegger’, 315–21; Graf Reventlow, ‘Humanistic Exegesis’, 182 and 185–7; Le Brun, ‘La réception’, 196. 135 Grotius, ‘Lectori’, in Annotationes ad Vetus Testamentum, in OOT, vol. 1: ‘In hac parte locos nonnullos quos veteres ad Christum et Evangelii tempora retulere, retuli ad historias aevo Prophetarum propiores, sed quae tamen involutam habent Christi et Evangelicorum temporum figuram. Feci autem hoc, quod, ni id fieret, viderem male cohaerere verborum rerumque apud Prophetas seriem, quae ceteroqui pulcherrima est.’ 136 Graf Reventlow, ‘Humanistic Exegesis’, 183–4. 137 De Jonge, ‘Hugo Grotius: exégète’, 105. Grotius’s Annotationes on the Bible (1619–1645) 159 advancement of the chronology. Thus the end of the Roman Empire was still unknown to Paul, but it was revealed to John, who lived later.138 Grotius’s heroic accomplishment was to shift the focus of biblical commentaries from theological and dogmatic exegesis geared towards contemporary life to historical annotations revealing the ancient context of the biblical world.139 But he did not altogether steer clear of theological interpretations. Early modern commentaries in general could cater to a wide range of purposes.140 We have seen this at work in Heinsius’s annotations as well.

Theological Explanation

‘Exegesis’ can mean many things. Commonly, it is understood as a critical explanation of a given text, and in practice this encompasses textual criticism, historical criticism, linguistic illumination, and lexicological or etymological review. But these methods can also spill over into theological interpretation. There are no clear lines of demarcation. When Grotius at Acts 13:18 explained that the phrase ‘and as many [gentiles] as were ordained to eternal life believed’ meant that these gentiles themselves made the choice to convert to Christianity, he countered arguments that this passage spoke of those who were predestined to faith. He did so on the basis of the assumption that a Hebraism was used in the Greek: ‘It happens frequently in Hebrew that a passive voice is used instead of a reciprocal voice: a niphael (passive or reflexive) instead of hithpael (reflexive).’ This is to say that ‘they were ordained’ was in fact a Hebraism for ‘they ordained themselves’.141 This seems to be an attempt to favour a Remonstrant interpretation, in which the believer could freely choose to believe or to reject Christian faith. Likewise Grotius’s approach to Romans 8:8 and Ephesians 1:5 would have been influenced by his Remonstrant inclinations. ‘With Grotius, exegesis of the dogmatic and normative sort has not entirely disappeared’, De Jonge concluded, after examining a Grotian interpretation that would have served as a response to a critique of certain passages in his De iure belli ac pacis. ‘Grotius has not always resisted the temptation of an exegesis which seeks the confirmation of certain modern theological and political ideas through the authority of the Bible.’142 There are, then, no waterproof partition walls between textual-critical, linguistic, and historical forms of criticism, on the one hand, and theological-dogmatic interpretation on the other. Take Grotius’s treatment of the Greek word for ‘he broke [the bread]’ at Matthew 26:26. This breaking symbolized the breaking of Jesus’s body during the passion,

138 Graf Reventlow, ‘Humanistic Exegesis’, 183. 139 De Jonge, ‘Hugo Grotius: exégète’, 114. 140 Enenkel and Nellen, ‘Introduction’, 12–54. 141 For the semantic overlap between the two Hebrew modes, see Baden, ‘Hithpael and Niphal’. 142 De Jonge, ‘Hugo Grotius: exégète’, 113. 160 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic as is underscored by the Syriac liturgy. When Jews broke bread, they intended for others to take part in eating, for they had very large loaves of bread, as we have seen above. This custom was not limited to Jews: passages in Diogenes Laertius, Xenophon, and Iamblichus show that breaking bread and sharing it were generalized ancient customs. Here, linguistic and historical explanation (the meaning of breaking bread in historical perspective) is conflated with theological interpretation (a figurative interpretation of breaking bread). When Grotius refers to pagan examples of Greeks, Romans, Aramaics, and Boiotians who cut offerings to pieces, his linguistic interpretations spill over into theological readings: the blood is a visible symbol referring to the invisible soul of man. This was already the case in Virgil, whom Grotius cites. Roman poets speak of ‘demanding peace through bloodshed’. The Hebrews agreed: without bloodshed, no salvation or expiation is possible, for blood is the symbol of life.143 In Jewish thought, descriptions of food and drinking often accompany the depiction of eternal life. The wine of the New Covenant was new wine, spiritual wine prefiguring eternal joy. As Rabbi Hai has it in his Book of Dreams, wine has existed since the beginning of the world. Grotius mentions other sources, including the Tractate Berakhot (the very first tractate in the Talmud, mentioning dreams), and the mystical Zohar. Grotius’s study of the poetic and symbolic overtones of wine imbues the word with historical resonance and takes the measure of its eschatological richness. What Grotius expounds here is not dogmatic theology, but something more akin to a spiritual kind of etymology. At times, Grotius simply bends the text to fit his theological convictions. John 6:44 is crucial to the doctrine of election, and Grotius speaks at length about the meaning of the verb ‘to be drawn’ (that is, to be drawn by God to hear Jesus speak, and so to receive the gospel), which in Grotius’s interpretation still allows people to resist being drawn: ‘it has no sense of imposed necessity’.144 The verse at John 6:49 runs: It is written in the prophets, And they shall be all taught of God. Every man therefore that hath heard, and hath learned of the Father, cometh unto me. Here, Grotius makes the ‘all’ and ‘every man’ conditional: they concern all those who have heard the gospel and who do not of their own free will reject the beneficence offered by God. This is to say that manhas a measure of free will, although the text does not say anything about this.145 More manipulative still is Grotius at Romans 8:32, where the text reads: He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?

143 Grotius, Ad Matthaeum 26:28, in OOT, vol. 2–1, 253a, ll. 8–16. 144 Grotius, Ad Johannem 6:44, in ibid., 506a, ll. 44–5: ‘sine ullo sensu impositae necessitatis’. 145 Grotius, Ad Johannem 6:45, in ibid., 506b, l. 61–507a, l. 3. Grotius’s Annotationes on the Bible (1619–1645) 161

Grotius says that ‘for us all’ in fact means ‘for all people’. ‘Us’ pertains not to Christians only, but to all mankind. God died for every single human being, even for non-Christians. This meaning could be read into the text, but it is not there on the surface. It does, however, fit Grotius’s inclusive idea of Christianity, as a prerequisite for reaching out to non-Christians instead of persecuting them. We have seen precisely the opposite interpretation in the States’ Translation. In the discussion of the pericope of the woman taken in adultery, Grotius plays one of his trump cards: his ability to catch the mode of a verb. ‘He that is without sin’ (ἀναμάρτητος) points not to an actual state of being (being a sinner, in the implication that no one is ‘without sin’) but to an act (having once sinned).146 Grotius here shifts the emphasis: what is stressed is not the sense of an inevitable state of sin, but rather one’s responsibility for one’s conduct. Thus a measure of human free will is conceded, in accordance with Grotius’s Remonstrant ideals (of course, not explicated by him). Again, we see how linguistic interpretation can have theological repercussions. At Luke 22:19 (during, again, the Last Supper), after the bread has been broken and distributed, Christ says, ‘This do in remembrance of me.’ Grotius comments that although Christ will rise again, it is through his dying that he shows his love for mankind. This comment is in no way philological: it does not explain the text. A parallel passage in John 6:33 (‘For the bread of God is he which cometh down from heaven, and giveth life unto the world’) prompts Grotius to remark that whereas when Moses was in the desert, the manna from heaven fed 1600, but here the bread handed out by Christ means not merely life but eternal life, and ‘unto the world’ means every single person on earth.147 Here Grotius quali- fies the meaning of the text by bringing to the fore the universal appeal of the New Testament, which fit with Grotius’s inclusive Christian politics. In discussing Romans 9:13 (‘As it is written, Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I hated’), Grotius goes to great lengths to argue that just as the Israelites, who came later, were chosen above the Edomites, so were the Christians chosen above the Jews. For that interpretation, he arms himself with the testimonies of Barnabas, Tertullian, Cyprian, and Philo. At Romans 9:15, citing unidentified ‘politici’ (all of these citations are found in Tacitus, whom Grotius does not mention), he discusses the decisions of God, and the reasons for the discussion, as if they were arcana imperii. With these quotations, Grotius basically compared God’s unfathomable ways with the raison d’état, and God himself with a Roman emperor and a military leader. In his conclusion, Grotius approaches the theological:

146 Grotius, Ad Johannem 8:7, in ibid., 516a, ll. 46–52. 147 Grotius, Ad Johannem 6:33, in ibid., 504b, ll. 53–8: ‘ζωὴν, vitam] Nempe aeternam, ut supra 1.4… . τῷ κόσμῳ, mundo] Nec sexcentis tantum millibus, sed infinito numero; omnibus, si vel- lent: supra 1.10.’ 162 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

It could have sufficed for us that God wanted to give eternal good only to him who is justified from the inside. And that, in order to acquire that justice, a road needs to be travelled which He himself shows and which He demonstrates as a sure road, through the gifts of his Spirit.148 Ephesians 1:4–5 was much debated in Calvinist controversies with Remonstrants, for they concerned predestination: 1:4 According as he hath chosen us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and without blame before him in love. 1:5 Having predestinated us unto the adoption of children by Jesus Christ to himself, according to the good pleasure of his will. In his note to these verses, as at John 6:44, Grotius theologizes. Bending the text, he places election as logically following one’s being called, although God’s choice to call someone is also a type of election. Even if the Jews let their election start with Abraham and his covenant with God, Jesus preceded Abraham in God’s design for the world. Christianity had already been conceived by God before He created the earth, and God had already worked out the rungs of the ladder with which he would guide people to Him.149 Grotius’s discussion of 1:5 in particular dives into the subtleties of the various words for prior knowledge (propositum, praedestinatio, praecognitio). Sometimes it concerns a ‘decree to let something happen, in connection with foreknowledge’, sometimes an ‘unconditional decision of God’, and in 1:5 Paul speaks of ‘decision for something God wants to do if also the people do what they have to do’. This condition (the condition that man is free to reject God’s offer) is not always made explicit in the text, but on the basis of parallels there is reason enough to assume it, Grotius suggests. Thus God decided to save Paul and his fellows from shipwreck (in Acts 27) only if they would do their utmost to be saved, and thus God made Paul his apostle on the condition that Paul would not disobey the heavenly decree.150

148 Grotius, Ad Romanos 9:15, in ibid., 729: ‘Sufficere nobis poterat, nemini Deum velle dare bona aeterna, nisi qui intus iustus sit: ad consequendam eam iustitiam, viam ineundam quam ipse monstret et certam esse ostendat donis Spiritus sui.’ 149 Grotius, Ad Ephesos 1:4, in OOT, vol. 2–2, 883: ‘Iudaei electionem suam ab Abrahamo aus- picantur, eaque se iactant antiquitate, aut et interdum ab exitu ex Aegypto . . . At in constitutione Divina multo prior fuit Abrahamo Christus . . . Deus mundum conditurus hominis causa, hominem vero ut Deum coleret, cultum quendam perfectissimum sibi proposuit, ad quem, praestruc- tis gradibus quibusdam, hominem esset perducturus, idque per Filium suum.’ 150 Grotius, Ad Ephesos 1:5, in ibid., 883: ‘Sicut diversi generis sunt Dei decreta sic et verba προτιθέναι, προορίζειν, προγιγνώσκειν [proponere, praedecernere, praenoscere] et deducta inde nomina, πρόθεσις, προορισμὸς, πρόγνωσις [propositum, praedestinatio, praecognitio], non eodem sumuntur modo. Significant interdum decretum permittendi cum praescientia quadam coniunc- tum, . . . interdum decretum Dei sine conditione; . . . hic vero et alibi decretum eius quod Deus facere vult, si et homines faciant quod debent, quanquam illa conditio non semper exprimitur, sed ex aliis locis, imo etiam ex iis quae eodem loco sunt cohaerentia, satis intelligitur. Sic Deus constituerat Paulum et ei in navigatione comites servare, nempe si et ipsi omnem ad id adhibentur operam; et Paulum Apostolum facere, si non inobediens esset viso coelesti.’ Grotius’s Annotationes on the Bible (1619–1645) 163

5.4. RECEPTION OF THE ANNOTATIONES

Grotius was very proud of his achievement: ‘Do you see’, he asked his brother, ‘how much more probable it is what we said? How beautifully it is all closely connected? I am very grateful to God for these thoughts of mine.’ For these thoughts served the greater good: the revealing of the truth, the tempering of animosity, and the advancement of unity.151 And when he expressed his hope that Willem de Groot would arrange for De Antichristo, De fide et operibus, and the Explicatio Decalogi to be added to the annotations on the Gospels, he prophesied: If these works do not show the effect which I hope for during my lifetime and for which I, so to speak, consider myself destined since the moment I was born, it will still be a great thing to plant these trees even if they will only benefit another era.152 As for Vossius, even if he doubted that the work would immediately have the intended effect, he responded enthusiastically to the Annotationes. In January 1645 he praised Grotius for what he called a ‘not a book, but a treasure of sacred observations’. TheAnnotationes offered a wealth of material, most of which had as yet been unobserved. Vossius was pleased to see that the Vulgate was still often in accord with the Hebrew Masoretic text, despite the critique put forth by newer translations. Not only did Grotius write most concisely, but he also took an impartial position from a religious point of view.153 It was precisely studium (zeal, but also partisanship) that wrecked the cause of religion. But Grotius dramatically overestimated the contribution he would make to the prospect of a united Church. In fact, his Annotationes drew bitter responses from within Protestantism.154 Initial reactions were overshadowed by the outcry provoked by Grotius’s political-theological writings. While his friend Christianus Cassius was quite favourable towards the Annotationes, he related with horror how writings such as Jacob Laurentius’s Hugo Grotius papizans transformed the New Testament into a battlefield.155 Despite Grotius’s own pride at his achievement, he claimed he had expected resistance: I foresaw hatred, but God has placed me in such a safe position [as ambassador], so that those who want to harm, can no longer do so. If there are people who want to respond with enmity, I will consider it, if they are to bring in anything better at all.156

151 Grotius to W. de Groot, 7 April 1640, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 11, 191, no. 4589: ‘Vides quanto probabiliora sint quae nos diximus? Quam pulchre omnia cohaereant? Ego certe pro his cogitatis Deo.’ 152 Grotius to W. de Groot, 16 February 1641, in ibid., vol. 12, 103, no. 5061. 153 Vossius to Grotius, 10 January 1645, in ibid., vol. 16, 336, no. 7245. 154 Kuenen, ‘Hugo de Groot als uitlegger’, 311. 155 C. Cassius to Grotius, 25 July 1642, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 13, 338, no. 5807. 156 Grotius to W. de Groot, 26 May 1640, in ibid., vol. 11, 290, no. 4663: ‘Odia providi; sed eo in asylo nos Deus collocavit, ut qui volunt nobis male, nocere iam amplius nequeant. Si qui sunt, qui respondere ex adverso volunt, considerabo, ecquid sint allaturi melius.’ 164 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

Defiantly, he wrote to his brother, ‘I am conscious that I cultivate and care for the truth and have no fear of hatred.’157 Grotius drew responses from Calvinists and Lutherans alike, and from others among his broad intended readership. The Calvinist controversialist Samuel Maresius objected to matters of chronology, authorship, and constitution of the biblical text, but also to Grotius’s treatment of the ascension of Christ and his dismissive view towards identifying the pope as the Antichrist.158 A professor of theology at Harderwijk, Johannes Cloppenburgh (1592–1652), publicly proclaimed that Grotius had not only incorrectly but also impiously argued that a parable was a fable.159 His reasoning was based on a pejorative notion of the word ‘fable’. There were also attacks from the Lutheran camp. Best known is Abraham Calovius’s Ethnicorum scriptorum intempestiva collatio. To criticize Grotius, Calovius went so far as to reprint every single comment by Grotius, in a paradoxical attempt to counter their influence.160 (In chapter 8, we will see the same paradox at work in a refutation of La Peyrère’s Praeadamitae.) The Lutheran theologian Benedict Carpzovius rejected Grotius’s frequent comparisons with the texts of pagan authors, brandishing him ‘that profane interpreter of Scripture’ and reproaching him for his ‘profane mind, to which nothing is nice if it is not taken from the ditches of the gentiles’.161 In England, responses proved more positive: John Selden was not the only one who respected Grotius. English admiration for Grotius is underscored by the publication of a selection of his notes along with Brian Walton’s London Polyglot of 1657 in the form of an appendix to volume 6.162 Perhaps even more influential was the inclusion of theAnnotationes in the 1660 edition of the Critici sacri brought out in London (second edition, 1698), as well as in the Synopsis criticorum, edited by Matthew Poole in 1669–1676 (re-edited by Johannes Leusden and printed in Utrecht, 1684–1686).163 Although the reception of Grotius was hardly unanimously positive (the more emphatically anti- Catholic thinkers dismissed Grotius’s objection to identifying the Pope as the AntiChrist),164 the Annotationes in England, according to Levitin, ‘shaped the approach of the next generation of clerical exegetes’. The religious scholar Henry Hammond ‘was hugely indebted to Grotius’ Annotationes’ in his own

157 Grotius to W. de Groot, [9] June 1640, in ibid., vol. 11, 318, no. 4684. See also Van Unnik, ‘Hugo Grotius’, 176. 158 Grotius to W. de Groot, 21 March 1643, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 14, 164–7, no. 6139. 159 I. Vossius to Grotius, [6 March 1645], in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 16, 529, no. 7352. For the exact accusations, see Cloppenburg, Theologica opera omnia, vol. 1, 703, and vol. 2, 7–8, ad Grotius’s De iure belli ac pacis, liber II, cap. XX, §48, 3; liber II, cap. XXIV, §4, 1, and liber III, cap. I, § 10, 2. These references are taken from Trapman, ‘Grotius and Erasmus’, 93. 160 Kuenen, ‘Hugo de Groot als uitlegger’, 327. 161 ibid., 311. 162 TMD, Bibliographie de Grotius, no. 1135, sub note 7. 163 Bultmann, ‘Beyond the Vulgate’, 93; De Jonge, De bestudering, 55. 164 Van den Berg, ‘Grotius’ Views on Antichrist’. Grotius’s Annotationes on the Bible (1619–1645) 165

Paraphrase and annotations on the New Testament (1653). In Cambridge, the Regius professor of theology Joseph Beaumont delivered lectures in the 1670s that were clearly influenced by the historical methods of Grotius. In short, ‘By the Restoration, scholarship on the Scaliger-Casaubon-Grotius model had become institutionalised, and a central plank of conformist clerical identity.’165 The mixed attitude of a man like Richard Baxter to Grotius’s work might have been due to an appreciation of Grotius’s method and a rejection of his irenicist politics.166 Much of the Catholic reception of Grotius’s work was negative, and either ignored or dismissed his biblical philology (as conducted by ‘subtils grammair- iens et curieux à rechercher les humanités’, as Bossuet put it) and concentrated on the double sense of the prophecies and the measure of direct divine inspir ation.167 Richard Simon thought that Grotius, with his view that divine inspiration was limited, inspired Spinoza, and that both in turn influenced Le Clerc.168 In the history of the Catholic reception of Grotius, in which Simon is an outsider, the same arguments were repeated time and again: Grotius was basically a Socinian who played down the divine character of the Bible. Whereas his textual criticism and linguistic analyses were largely ignored, his historical contextualization was deemed dangerous in its threat to the official position that the Bible was divinely inspired.

5.5. CONCLUSIONS

Grotius and others who argued for unity on the basis of a limited set of essential Christian principles grasped that individuals could agree on some things, but never on all things. And they recognized that some external authority was

165 Levitin, Ancient Wisdom, 19, 122, 138–9, and 468–70. See on Hammond also Van den Berg, ‘Grotius’ Views on Antichrist’, 176–7. 166 Van den Berg, ‘Grotius and Apocalyptic Thought in England’, 180–1. 167 Le Brun, ‘La réception’, 212–13. 168 See the quotation at the beginning of this chapter: Richard Simon (in the third person) to NN, 26 August 1703, in Bruzen la Martinière, ed., Lettres Choisies, 322: ‘ “Pour l’inspiration” dit-on “Grotius est tombé dans cette erreur, de n’en reconnoître, que dans les écrits des Prophetes qui prédisoient l’avenire etc.”. L’Auteur [Simon himself] avoit déja fait cette même remarque dans son Histoire Critique du texte du Nouveau Testament, c. 23, où on lit 273: “Il n’y a qu’un très-petit nombre de Critiques qui veulent qu’il n’y ait rien d’inspiré dans l’Ecriture, que ce qui a été com- posé par les Prophetes. Ils nient que les Livres historiques ayent été inspirez, parce qu’il n’est pas besoin, disent-ils, d’être Prophete pour écrire des histoires. Grotius est de ce sentiment dans son Livre intitulé Votum pro pace Ecclesiastica… . Il repete la même chose dans un autre endroit de ses ouvrages contre Rivet qui avoit traité d’impie cette opinion.” L’Auteur [Simon] ajoûte encore, que Spinosa a suivi le sentiment de Grotius, dans son Livre qui a pour titre Tractatus Theologico- Politicus. De plus, il observe que cette opinion de Grotius et de Spinosa a été renouvellée dans deux Lettres qui sons jointes à un Livre imprimé à Amsterdam, sous le titre de Sentimens de quelques Theologiens de Hollande.’ 166 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic needed to enforce consensus. This authority could not be a political authority, because political authorities were divided. Hence, it ought to be historical. Here is where tradition came in, but not all tradition. Grotius fell back only on early Church Fathers.169 Christoph Bultmann has seen moral philosophy as a central aim of Grotius’s Annotationes.170 Grotius wanted to stress the consensus among biblical and non-biblical writers, and suggested that we read the Torah ‘within the wider framework of moral philosophy’.171 Such consensus would show that in principle Christians and non-Christians could agree on important issues and need not live in a world riven by religiously based civil strife and violence. In Grotius’s opinion, these shared principles entirely covered the essentials of Christianity and required no compromise on the part of Christian conscience: ‘what lies within the boundaries of the sacred text does not stand in contradiction to natural law’.172 Grotius can be seen as a forerunner of the historical-critical method. In 1919 Joachim Schlüter saw Grotius’s ‘humanist character’ as being constitutive of a critical method.173 But as has become clear, critical, linguistic, and historical arguments might just as well be put in the service of a non-humanist agenda. The question is what this ‘humanist character’ precisely means. Van Unnik equates it with irenicism, or a religious-political ideal of peace through toleration.174 If one thinks of ‘humanism’ as a philosophy, on a par with other philosophical or religious-political ways of thinking (instead of primarily an educational programme), Grotius can be seen as someone as prejudiced as any orthodox Calvinist theologian or any radical philosopher. It was Grotius’s philosophy—i.e., his religious-political convictions—which set the boundaries of his biblical philology. Had Grotius remained consistently free of a theologico-political agenda, he might have produced a far more rigorously historical and philological commentary on the biblical text. Grotius’s most important contribution was not the qualitative development of his method, but the scale on which he applied it: he published a historical and linguistic commentary on the entire Bible, which was consistent due to its religious-political framework. As such, it was much more powerful than Heinsius’s somewhat diffuse Sacrae exercitationes. Grotius’s project attracted critical attention not primarily because of its method and scale, but because Grotius contributed to a topical discussion taking

169 De Jonge, ‘Hugo Grotius: exégète’, 115 (contra Van Unnik, ‘Hugo Grotius’, which deplores Grotius’s heterodoxy and plays down the impact of Grotius’s rigorous historicism and philology). See also above, section ‘History’, n. 107. 170 Bultmann, ‘Beyond the Vulgate’, 93. 171 ibid., 103 and 105. 172 ibid., 105. 173 Schlüter, Die Theologie; cited by Van Unnik, ‘Hugo Grotius’, 195 and 214, n. 222. 174 Van Unnik, ‘Hugo Grotius’, 195. Van Unnik seems bent on attacking Grotius’s humanism, not his role as a precursor to a historical-critical method, the value of which, as Van Unnik acknowledges, was recognized in the eighteenth century, whereas Grotius’s political agenda was ignored. Grotius’s Annotationes on the Bible (1619–1645) 167 place among all strata of society about the politics of religion. In fostering a unifying ideal, which, even for most ‘humanists’ was a bridge too far, he also created an intellectual space for the type of biblical philology Scaliger had already practised, which was more advanced than what Erasmus and Beza had done. That Grotius could afford to do this was to a large extent a result of his relatively independent position. As an ambassador of Sweden, he thought he could not be subjected to formal religious control. His embassy gave him an ‘asylum’ from where he could broadcast his ideas without hindrance.175 Grotius made two moves in a more radical direction than most of his contemporaries were willing to go. First, he broke with the idea of the theopneusticity of the entire Bible, as a book written by individuals who were always inspired by the Holy Spirit.176 Second, he concluded that no absolute certainty could be established over the constitution of the biblical text, and hence that every theological interpretation contained a measure of arbitrariness. Both of these positions are explained by the larger framework of Grotius’s theological-political philosophy. He knew that philology alone could not solve religious discord, even if rigorously followed as a purely rational procedure, heedless of any possible theological consequences resulting from its practice. On the contrary, philology would lead to more insecurity regarding the text, and to ever more interpretations. A purely historicist, rationalist philology was unable to provide a guide for correct theology in the plurality of Christian opinions of his own day. Grotius’s historical approach towards biblical books, which regarded them as independent products of history, points to an awareness that religious practices differed depending on historical and geographic circumstances.177 Grotius can hardly have thought that nascent Christianity was a homogeneous religion with full consensus on all aspects of Christian life. His annotations of Acts analysed divergent opinions among the earliest Christians and the way they had dealt with these differing views.178 But historical contextualization showed that the early Church was capable of negotiating such differences. Thus Grotius strengthened the already existing concept of a minimal credo, a nucleus in opposition to adiaphora: a limited set of essential assumptions that could be agreed upon universally. Such a solution should be seen within the larger context of Grotius’s thought, which envisioned the foundation of minimal rules agreed upon by all humanity, including all non-Chris- tians. The Bible could help in providing moral lessons. And the way early Church Fathers dealt with the Bible and created an allegedly unified tradition also showed that Christianity need not always be divided. Grotius’s ideal was not sola scriptura, but earlier ways of appropriating the Bible. He did not

175 Nellen, Hugo de Groot, 488. 176 De Lang, De opkomst, 129; Nellen, Hugo de Groot, 510. 177 Laplanche, L’é c r i t u r e , 337. 178 Hofman, Een kijk op de kerk. 168 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic make explicit that this necessarily meant accepting that there will always be discussion and divergent interpretations, but this was implied. The toning down of the theopneusticity of the Bible and the acknowledgment that it was impossible to rule out variants in the biblical text, together with the occasional moral-political discourse in the Annotationes, were not incidental. Such positions accorded with Grotius’s lifelong dedication to the advancement of peace and unity among Christians and among Christians and non-Christians.179 Ultimately, Grotius’s historical and philological take on the biblical text was instrumental, and not essentialist. His programme was not to pursue a philological agenda, as if he would passively follow wherever the vera ratio of philology would lead him. Only a moral-philosophical ideal in the shape of a theological-political agenda could serve as guidance on how to control historicism and philology and curb their potentially disastrous implications for the status of the biblical text as a source of moral wisdom. Grotius had first to establish the philosophical space and freedom which pervade his De iure belli ac pacis and his De veritate before he could point out that, according to philological, historicist procedures, Scripture had been so historically determined by a human, and indeed pagan world, that the Holy Spirit seemed almost to have played no part in its conception.180 Grotius’s work was not unfamiliar to Spinoza. Spinoza owned copies of De imperio and of Grotius’s De satisfactione Christi (1617). Without suggesting the strong link which Richard Simon saw between Grotius and Spinoza when it came to the content of their thought (see the quote above this chapter), a mere comparison of the relation between methods and political aims in both authors—i.e., a comparison of the way they argued their ideas—shows similarities. Grotius’s strategy was not so different from that of Spinoza, for whom historicist biblical philology was not the path that led him to radical conclusions, but rather a weapon to attack his enemies using their own arms. It is remarkable that Grotius’s idea of a minimal credo dovetailed neatly with Spinoza’s opinion that the Bible was useful if it encouraged ordinary folk to adhere to the golden rule. More abstractly, another similarity can be drawn: both men had a theological-political agenda that set the boundaries of their philological methods. That Spinoza read Grotius’s De imperio can hardly have been coincidental: theological politics and the historicist interpretation of the Bible go hand in hand in Grotius’s book, as we have seen, just as they did in Spinoza’s Tractatus theologico-politicus—although Spinoza might have benefitted more from Grotius’s Ordinum pietas. Spinoza out-philologized his adversaries not through superior philological skills, but because he had first created enough philosophical space for phil-

179 The subtitle of Nellen’s biography, ‘A Lifelong Struggle for Peace in Church and State, 1583–1645’, speaks for itself: Nellen, Hugo de Groot. 180 De Lang, De opkomst, 129. Grotius’s Annotationes on the Bible (1619–1645) 169 ology to manifest its radical potential, causing it to backfire within the Reformed establishment. Only a radical philosophy could allow critical philology so much space. Spinoza was to bring criticism to another level, but before he did so, or in fact, as I see it, before Spinoza could do so, there were twenty-five years of debate between Grotius’s death in 1645 and the publication of the Tractatus theologico-politicus. In that quarter-century, biblical philology became a battlefield, with publishers profiting like arms dealers in wartime. 6

Claude Saumaise and the ‘Hairy War’ (1640–1650)

6.1. THE OUTBREAK OF THE HAIRY WAR

In July and August 1640, the representatives of the Dutch Reformed Church in South-Holland gathered for their annual meeting, which took place that year in the city of Gouda. At this meeting, the representatives of the parishes of The Hague protested against ‘dances, ballets, copious meals and banquets, wild hair of men and women, masquerades, comedies and tragedies, indecent clothing and nakedness of parts of the body, etc.’. The synod decided to instruct pastors to castigate men with long hair and women with frivolous hair and, if need be, exclude such church folk from Holy Communion.1 Subsequent yearly synods cited other provincial synods in the United Provinces, who had likewise decided to take measures against students, candidate-preachers, and pastors with long hair. In 1643 it appeared that such pastors and their proponents continued to give offence, and at the yearly synod it was decided to ask the professors of the theological States College of Leiden University to make sure that the students looked decent.2 A year later it was confirmed that the professors had promised to fulfil their obligations.3 Although ordinary church folk are usually not mentioned in the resolutions, they were targeted as well. A minister in Dordrecht railed from the pulpit against men with long hair and women with wild locks, warning them that by gripping their long strands of hair the devil would all the more easily pull them down into hell.4 By 1645, the issue had developed into a

1 Knuttel, Acta, vol. 2, 269: ‘wilt hayr van mans ende vrouwen’; see also 336–7 (the 1641 synod gathered in Rotterdam, citing the 1640 resolutions of the synods of North-Holland and Groningen), 380, 383 (the 1642 synod at Gorinchem, citing the 1641 resolutions of the synods of Guelders and Utrecht), and 429–31 (the 1643 synod at Brielle, citing the resolutions of the synods of Gelderland, North-Holland, and Overijssel). 2 ibid., 426. 3 ibid., 466. 4 Rivet to Sarrau, 4 April 1644, in Rivet and Sarrau, Correspondance intégrale, vol. 2, 242, spoke of ‘un Ministre Flamand à Dordrecht, lequel sur cela declame publiquement contre les hommes et femmes, et les menace qu’ilz seront traisnéz en enfer par leurs cheveux’. This refers to the Dordrecht minister Jacob Borstius. Claude Saumaise and the ‘Hairy War’ (1640–1650) 171 full-blown public controversy over what precisely Paul had meant in 1 Corinthians. 11:14–15: ‘Doth not even nature itself teach you, that, if a man have long hair, it is a shame unto him? But if a woman have long hair, it is a glory to her: for her hair is given her for a covering.’ Since the end of the nineteenth century, this pamphlet war has been referred to in Dutch historiography as the ‘Harige Oorlog’, the Hairy War.5 It involved academic professors, ecclesiastical ministers, and practising physicians; and it was fought in Latin and in the vernacular, in serious treatises, academic disputations, and Dutch and Latin pamphlets.6 It reverberated among the common people. When ministers in Dordrecht denied hairy offenders to partake in the Lord’s Supper, they effectively cut off members of their flock from their communities. One participant, Florentius Schuyl (1619–1669), worried that the common people in Amsterdam let themselves be egged on to such an extent that they shamelessly jeered after honest men, who unlike asses, refused to show their ears, or after girls with locks, yelling that the devil would bind them to a pitch stick and carry them off to hell in a gallop.7 It was particularly difficult to curb these mobs, Schuyl pointed out, for they felt justified by sermons and thought they were doing the Lord’s work. The Hairy War can be approached in various ways. This chapter largely avoids issues of gender, generation gaps, class, and the differences in types of long hair, as well as the role of facial hair such as beards and moustaches (which are hardly discussed in the pamphlets). Instead, I focus on the role of biblical philology. The diversification in social backgrounds, the use of Latin and the vernacular, and the wide array of media involved in the conflict indicate that biblical philology was being widely practised and discussed at the time. The Hairy War shows that within non-radical philology, a moderate current argued for a reading of the Bible that clearly distinguished between essential elements of Calvinist faith on the one hand and non-essential historical contingencies on the other. People defending this position were not necessarily radicals, ‘erudite

5 See Perk, De ‘Hairige’ oorlog. 6 There are two overviews of the Hairy War, one in Perk, De ‘Hairige’ oorlog, 203–54, and one in Schotel, Bijdrage tot de geschiedenis der Kerkelijke en Wereldlijke Kleeding, 1–50. Especially the first is not very well referenced. Two more recent articles are rather short: De Vries, ‘Zeventiende- eeuwse haarkloverijen’; and Tóth-Ubbens, ‘Kaalkop of ruighoofd’, 1971–1972, referenced here in a shorter version as Tóth-Ubbens, ‘Kaalkop of ruighoofd,’ 1973, at 92. See also Roberts, Sex and Drugs, 50–3, and, in the updated Dutch translation: Seks, drugs en rock ’n’ roll, 55–60. 7 Schuyl, Raedt, . . . Tweede Deel, 2–3: ‘Waer door het ongebonde graeuw, insonderheit van die wijt-beroemde hooft-stad, sich soo laet ophisten, dat het eerlijcke manspersoonen, die juist gelijck de Esels haer ooren niet en toonen, of joffrouwen met locken onbeschaemdelijck naeroept, dat de duivel, dat hair aen een peck-stock gebonden hebbende, met haer op een galop nae de hel sal rijden.’ 172 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic libertines’,8 or even Dutch Remonstrants: Jacobus Revius, an orthodox Calvinist if ever there was one, supported what he called the ‘Christian liberty of hairdressing’. As this book argues, much of the tradition was shaped by thoroughly pious thinkers who were, and remained, part of the orthodox establishment. One such orthodox luminary was the towering figure of Claude Saumaise (1588–1653), in many ways successor to Joseph Scaliger and Isaac Casaubon as an emblem of Reformed erudition, held in high esteem throughout the Dutch Reformed Church, the English High Church, and among the French Huguenots. The Hairy War was therefore not a war between conservatives and radicals, but an intra-Reformed debate which advanced claims for the historical contin- gency of the Bible as a work produced by men, and which contributed to the acceptance of the concept of non-essential aspects of faith without turning radical. In section 6.2, ‘Historical Contexts’, some cultural and religious conditions which helped shape the debate are discussed: the influence of court culture and of confessionalization. Then the protagonists in the debate are reviewed, together with the media and some of the arguments that they employed. Special attention is paid to Claude Saumaise as the main protagonist. The conclusion argues that the Hairy War was the first nationwide discussion of the Bible that did not involve matters of faith essential to Reformed theology (such as predestination, grace, election, and the scope of Christian redemption). What it did do was to advance the historicization of the Bible.

6.2. HISTORICAL CONTEXTS

The fashion of men wearing long hair had been dictated by the king of France, Louis XIII (r. 1610–1643), who had himself measured for a wig in 1624, after his hair had begun to fall out.9 According to one contemporary, Gerard Vossius, fashion was set at the royal courts, and ‘adolescents and others’ followed suit.10 Perhaps things were more complicated than that, for it appears that it was the middle classes in these decades that ruled fashion, and not the nobility or the elite.11 It has been suggested that a generation gap played some role as well,

8 For this concept, see the classic essay by Pintard, Le libertinage érudit of 1943. 9 Woodforde, The Strange Story, 15; Corson, Fashions in Hair, 205; Tóth-Ubbens, ‘Kaalkop of ruighoofd’ (1973), 85. 10 Vossius to Saumaise, 7 June 1644, in Vossius, Epistolae, 413, no. 468: ‘[adolescentes vel alii] qui se ad vulgatiorem aulae morem componunt’. 11 Roberts, Sex and Drugs, 45 stresses that the middle classes were the rulers of fashion, not the nobility and elite. Claude Saumaise and the ‘Hairy War’ (1640–1650) 173 although none of the sources I have seen targets youth culture.12 In any case, young men at court started to let their hair grow; with iron instruments, they curled their long locks, let them bounce and dance over their shoulders, and sprinkled them with perfumes and coloured powders. The women, in turn, looked to the king’s wife Anne of Austria (1601–1666; r. 1643–1651), daughter of Philip III of Spain (r. 1598–1621), who had imported a Spanish coiffure.13 Women flattened their hair on their foreheads and shaved part of their scalps to allow them to sport locks and plaits made of horse’s and lion cub’s hair.14 In England, Charles I (r. 1625–1649) followed this French fashion, as several portraits of him show.15 In The Hague, Prince Frederick Henry of Orange (r. 1625– 1647) did not have long hair, but the exiled Frederick V of Bohemia, Elector Palatine (1596–1632; r. 1619–1620), followed the fashion of his brother-in-law Charles I. Paintings show him and his wife Elizabeth Stuart, the Winter Queen (1596–1662), with artificial curls.16 The outbreak of the Hairy War can be attributed to the new fashion from abroad running up against the Dutch Reformed Church’s attempt to implement stricter rules of public conduct. In the United Provinces, the Calvinist Church from the 1620s onwards began to regulate public behaviour more tightly. Strengthened by the Synod of Dordrecht, at which the orthodox faction prevailed, it attempted to set the terms of acceptable public conduct according to Calvinist morality in opposition to the power of secular authorities encroach- ing on public life. This puritan urge is known in historiography as the ‘Nadere Reformatie’ (‘Further Reformation’), a late stage in the process of Reformed confessionalization. This movement was partly inspired by English Puritanism.17 Stuart Puritanism likewise constituted a culture aimed at reforming church and society—perhaps a more coherent culture than deconstructions of it in the past few decades would have suggested.18 The frivolous hair fashion had already clashed with Puritan ideals in English society. It led William Prynne (1600–1669) to produce his The Unloveliness of Love-locks (1628), by far the most fearsome condemnation of wigs, hair powders, frizzles, and unseemly long hair.19 Prynne’s work did not pass unnoticed in the Dutch Republic. It is difficult to ascribe a fixed programme to the Further Reformation, but it is significant that the condemnation of wild hair was joined by the disapproval of

12 ibid., 49–53. 13 Corson, Fashions in Hair, 254 (portrait 64–C). 14 Schotel, Bijdrage tot de geschiedenis der Kerkelijke en Wereldlijke Kleeding, 3–6. 15 E.g., Corson, Fashions in Hair, 242–43 (portraits 58–C and 58–F). 16 ibid., 258 (portrait 66–L); Tóth-Ubbens, ‘Kaalkop of ruighoofd’ (1973), 86. 17 Op ’t Hof, Willem Teellinck. 18 For a vindication of Puritanism as a single phenomenon, against the more postmodern idea of several ‘Puritanisms’, see the recent monograph by Pederson, Unity in Diversity. 19 Perhaps related is the re-issue in German territory, in 1628, of Antonius Hotomannus’s Paganias sive De barba dialogus, Leiden: exofficina Plantiniana, 1586. See Antoine Hotman, Jucundus et verè lectu dignus de barba et coma dialogus, Rostock: ex officina Ferberiana, 1628. 174 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic feasting, dancing, and excessive eating, partly due to the risk of sexual misconduct, which, in the perception of many, followed readily enough from such behaviour. The maintenance of the gender division was an important element of the Hairy War: those defending the right of men to freely opt for long hair agreed that men should not look or act like women, and should therefore not tart themselves up. By implication, women were allowed to invest time in their coiffure. The anti-hair party argued for a clearer divide: women’s long hair was adornment enough, and further embellishment made women look like prostitutes or animals.20 The importance attached to maintaining a visible distinction between men and women was lacking in concurrent controversies raging in Dutch. That the Hairy War broke out in the 1640s may have something to do with the generation of the 1620s and 1630s coming of age; in those decades young men had begun to let their hair grow long.21 But there were other salient circumstances as well. Precisely this decade was fraught with other high-tension public discussions about religious and political issues. Seen in this light, the Hairy War was just one pamphlet war among many others. The discussion of the use of the organ in church was another such bone of contention,22 as was the principal discussion regarding usury, in which Claude Saumaise also played a leading role.23 Other nationwide discussions involved the political future of the United Provinces and took place in the years 1646–1648 in the run-up to the Peace of Westphalia (1648). And then there were, in the same decade, the Cartesian Wars at the universities, and the pamphlet war between André Rivet and Hugo Grotius. As we have seen in chapter 5, Grotius’s ecumenical religious programme ran counter to the process of stricter confessional demarcation fostered by the likes of Rivet. In the same decade, Rivet, Saumaise, and Grotius all commented on the ideas of Isaac de La Peyrère, whose radical ideas on the existence of people before Adam circulated in the Cabinet Dupuy in Paris and reverberated in The Hague and Leiden, before exploding onto the public stage with the publication, in 1655, of his Praeadamitae, as we will see in chapter 7. In short, the 1640s witnessed a massive outpouring of pamphlets, most of which took issue with the Bible in some respect. Partly on the basis of all these controversies, Dutch society halfway through the seventeenth century has been characterized as a ‘discussion culture’. Public discussions and pamphlet wars occurred outside the Dutch Republic as well; but the freedom of expression in the Dutch debates, as

20 Tóth-Ubbens, ‘Kaalkop of ruighoofd’ (1973), 88. See also Huygens, Briefwisseling, vol. 2, 55–6, no. 1093 (17 March 1635) and 64, no. 1116 (4 May 1635); compare Corson, Fashions in Hair, 210. 21 Roberts, Sex and Drugs, 50. According to Roberts, by 1645, the fashion had spread to older men. However, in the pamphlets there is no particular emphasis on the age of men or on a generation gap. The Synod did voice concern over students of theology and their proponents, but this might have been because these men could be more easily policed. For the same reason, church ministers in general were forbidden to have long hair. 22 See Huygens, Gebruyck. 23 See, e.g., Price, Dutch Culture, 63–4; Nellen, Hugo de Groot, 417–19. This issue deserves a full-length study. Claude Saumaise and the ‘Hairy War’ (1640–1650) 175

Frijhoff and Spies have singled out, was a defining aspect of this culture of discussion, which was not only engrained in the culture of consultation structur- ing the administrative bodies, but which also characterized public debate.24 In the discussions of hair and usury, the Bible played a role that was different from the way it was approached in the furious pamphlet war of the Troubles of the Twelve Years’ Truce. Those Troubles, as we stressed in chapter 2, derived from dogmatic interpretations of predestination, election, and grace. In the Hairy War, such theological arguments had no place. Instead, the arguments focused on a bit of textual criticism, frequent linguistic analyses, and above all on the historical contexts of the Bible. This shift is indicative of the rise of biblical philology and its growing currency in the public domain.

6.3. AGAINST LONG HAIR ON MEN: UDEMANS AND BORSTIUS

Among the most important combatants of the Hairy War was one Irenaeus Poimenander. This Greek pseudonym scarcely hid the easily identifiable pastor and champion of orthodox Calvinism Godefridus Udemans (1581–1649) (see Figure 2).25 Udemans had ensured himself the endorsement of Gisbertus Voetius (1589–1676), Meinardus Schotanus (1593–1644), and Carolus Dematius (1597–1651), the troika of Utrecht’s Faculty of Theology. With their firm support he published the dialogue Absalom’s Hair, or a Discourse which examines what to think of the wild-flying tresses, worn in our time (1643). Udemans opted for the dialogue form because it was pleasant, entertaining, and lively, and therefore accessible to a broad public. This was important because the issue pertained to every member of the congregation.26 The dialogue was divided into five discourses. In the second discourse, the ‘free choice’ party protests that Paul in his First Epistle to the Corinthians prescribes nothing about the actual length of hair; that the ‘nature’ of which Paul speaks is not a natural law, but only a custom pertaining to the congregation of the Corinthians; that Paul actually favours long hair on women; and, finally, that hair is given to man as a cover for his head. Udemans then has one of his inter- locutors counter each of these arguments.27 The third discourse concerns pagan and modern history: Greek and Roman, but also Gallic, Germanic, and Dutch fashions are rehearsed, and the opponents of long hair argue that even

24 Frijhoff and Spies, Bevochten eendracht, 218–24. 25 Godefridus literally means ‘God’s peace’. As for Udemans, the letters Ude may have been taken as hude or hoede(n), i.e., to tend, equivalent to poimainō (see Meertens, ‘Godefridus Cornelisz Udemans’, 91, n. 3). The ending –mans is reprented by the Greek –ander. 26 Udemans, Absaloms-hayr, sig. (*) vijr. 27 ibid., sig. (*) vijr, 19–20. Fig. 2. Godefridus Udemans, engraving by Johannes Saragon, 1635. Eight years before the outbreak of the Hairy War, he still had some hair. Image by courtesy of Leiden University Library (shelf mark PK-P-111.612). Claude Saumaise and the ‘Hairy War’ (1640–1650) 177 under Charlemagne long hair got less fashionable. Princes with long hair were the exception, and long hair does not spring from the law of nature, since hairdressing has always been mutable. (This rather flawed logic was not the last word on the natural lawfulness of long hair.) Udemans was soon joined by his friend Jacob Borstius (1612–1680),28 a minister from Dordrecht, who had preached against long hair. One of his sermons was published in 1644 and in 1645 (this last edition included the explicit consent of Voetius, Dematius, and Johannes Hoornbeek (1617–1666), at the time professor of theology at Utrecht).29 Borstius’s sermon is largely a moral admonition against ‘uncircumcised heads’, who, upon awaking, ask not for the Bible or the Psalter but for the mirror, the comb, and the hairbrush. To secure a visible division between the sexes, Borstius employs linguistic analysis, where he establishes the exact meaning of the Greek word κομᾶν, which he says does not merely mean to wear uncut hair, but to wear long hair in the way of women.30 The precise meaning of this word as used by Paul recurs time and again in pamphlets: the interpretation of biblical Greek vocabulary was central to the Hairy War. Such research into the exact meaning of words by taking into account the way a word functioned in its semantic context is typical of a humanist approach of language. The method had already been adopted by Lorenzo Valla (1406–1457) in his Elegantiae linguae Latinae (1441–1449). Borstius subjects Old Testament circumstances to research as well. Nazirites, who were consecrated to God, wore long hair as a sign of subjugation to God. Interestingly, Borstius ignores the mention of female Nazirites in the Old Testament.31 The discussion of Paul’s use of ‘nature’ (ϕύσις) takes up more space. ‘Nature’ has basically two meanings: the primeval state of humankind and whatever remains of it, and the state of mankind after the Fall. Borstius invokes interpreters such as Calvin and Augustin Marlorat (1506–1562) to favour the first meaning and refers to Udemans’s dialogue for support. Borstius goes to great lengths to argue that nature is not the same thing as custom or tradition, the latter being mutable.32 From what people do, one cannot argue that nature teaches them to do so. Paul’s mention of the word ‘nature’ is, moreover, part of a rhetorical question.33 By wearing long hair, a man loses his honour, his honesty, and his manly appearance, given to him by God.

28 On their friendship, see Op ’t Hof, ‘De laatste dagen’, 9–10. Borstius was inspired by English puritans, see: Op ’t Hof, ‘Puriteinse invloed’, 12–17. 29 Meertens, ‘Godefridus Cornelisz Udemans’, 92, n. 1; Tóth-Ubbens, ’Kaalkop of ruighoofd’ (1973), 93. The sermon was first mentioned in a refutation by Florentius Schuyl, printed in 1644. The 1645 reprint has a preface by Borstius. I have only seen the 1742 reprint of Borstius’s sermon. A final reprint is Tóth-Ubbens, ‘Kaalkop of ruighoof’ (1973) (based on the text of the 1644 edition). 30 Borstius, De predicatie, 6. 31 See Numbers 6:2: ‘either man or woman shall separate themselves to vow a vow of a Nazarite’. 32 Borstius, De predicatie, 11–16. 33 ibid., 20. 178 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

Although Borstius’s sermon continues in this moral-theological way, it does not fail to confront his congregation (and later his readers) with physiological, legal, historical, and linguistic arguments. He points out, for example, that the Hebrew word tsammim (as used in Job 5:5 and Leviticus 17:7) means not only ‘long-haired’ or ‘rough-haired’, but can also be translated as ‘robber’, as the marginal annotation in the recently published States’ Translation and as the elder Johannes Buxtorf’s Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon (1607) make clear: ‘long haired’ equals ‘terrible’. Even a ‘popish author’ like Sante Pagnini says so in his bible translation of 1628.34 Udemans and Borstius sought institutional backing not only from their church, but also from a secular authority: as noted, they were supported by the three professors of the theological faculty of Utrecht University: Voetius, Schotanus, and Dematius. In 1643, Voetius himself distributed thirty-six presentation copies of Udemans’s Absalom’s Hair to his colleagues on the Utrecht Church Council and presided over two disputations on hairdressing.35 In 1645, Dematius presided over six ‘textual theological disputations’ and a series of eight ‘textual questions’, all dealing with 1 Corinthians 11:14–15.36 A year later, Dematius published a Theological Discourse on Hairdressing.37 As late as 1650 he produced an over-500-page Collection of Important Questions Relating to Philology, Antiquities, Philosophy, but in particular to Theology, which attacks Jacobus Revius’s Defence of the Christian Liberty concerning Hairdressing (1647).38 Revius had published this work as defence of his own series of six Theological Disputations on Hair which he presided over in Leiden in December 1645.39 In these disputations he had criticized the disputations of Dematius in Utrecht.40 Finally, the fiercely anti-Remonstrant and prolific anti-Catholic polemicist Hieronymus Vogellius (1579–1654) felt the need to contribute his opinion from the northern city of Enkhuizen in a Serious Complaint regarding the Public Fray of Today’s Hairstyles, Recently Come Up in the Netherlands (1645).41

34 ibid., 23. 35 Only one of these seems to have survived, but from the title it can be deduced that this was in fact the second part, and that a first part must have preceded it: Voetius, 1643. Also printed in Voetius, Selectae disputationes, pars 4, 429–62, with an appendix containing various source texts, and a short reception history of the arguments of Udemans, Borstius, and Dematius (462–92). See, for a paraphrase of the disputation proper, Duker, Gisbertus Voetius, 261–70. 36 Dematius, Quaestiones textuales. These disputations are all kept in apparently unique copies in Trinity College, Cambridge. I have not seen them. 37 Dematius, Diatribe theologica De capillis. 38 Revius, Libertas christiana. 39 The disputations are kept in the library of the Theologisches Seminar in Herborn, bound together as Revius, Disputationes in universam theologiam (see De Bruijn, Jacob Revius, 611). 40 Because Revius overlooked some of them, he added an Appendix to his Defence of Christian Liberty: Revius, Appendix ad Tractatum. 41 Vogellius, Eernstige klaghte. Claude Saumaise and the ‘Hairy War’ (1640–1650) 179

6.4. FLORENTIUS SCHUYL

In the male-dominated arena of public pamphleteering, and in particular in the learned discourses about the historical, legal, and natural contexts of the Bible, women had no voice. But upper-class women were unwilling to conform if the men had their way. A woman of Dordrecht was said to have turned to the always pugnacious Florentius Schuyl, professor of philosophy at the Illustrious School of Bois-le- Duc, a man with long hair and vast biblical knowledge.42 In 1644, he published his vernacular pamphlet, under the pseudonym of Anthonius Verborch.43 This counterattack was satirically entitled Advice for the Shave-Sick Hair-Splitters (1644).44 It was reprinted the same year, with a second part added to it.45 Another reprint followed in 1645, this time under the title Hairy world, in which Today’s Hair Splitting is Exhibited (1645), now featuring Schuyl’s own name.46 Despite the satirical title, the work was in fact a serious piece of scholarship. The different types of argument employed by Schuyl merit an assessment because they show how the biblical text was interpreted not only within its own linguistic and historical contexts, but also in the wider contexts of physics, pagan history, and art history. Schuyl held that God gave us hair, and that we should nourish it, until ‘Scripture or reason’ forces us to cut it off. Schuyl seems to put reason on par with Scripture, and he starts with reason. He presents an overview of medical theories on hair, to counter Udemans’s contention that hair is but excrement.47 Drawing on Hippocrates and Galen, and subsuming medical knowledge under natural philosophy, Schuyl claims the subject of hair for the domain of physica, reproaching Udemans for his lack of knowledge of the physical world. There is a somewhat Cartesian ring to this separation of theology and physics (as part of philosophy), which comes as no surprise in the case of Schuyl, who went on to become a full-blown Cartesian later in his academic career.48 Schuyl applied physical arguments to the biblical texts in distinguishing between physics and morality, in order to counter Udemans, who had argued that hair was bodily waste, just like faeces and semen, and hence unworthy of further attention.49

42 Sassen, Het wijsgering onderwijs, 33, n. 23; Lindeboom, Florentius Schuyl, 26–7, 103. 43 Anthonius, from the Greek word anthos, which is the Greek equivalent of the Latin florens (blooming). Verborch ([I] hid) is a reference to his name Schuyl (hide) and, of course, to his hidden identity. 44 Schuyl, Raedt. For this pamphlet, I used Knuttel, TEMPO, no. 5145, not no. 5146, which I only used for the sequel (Raedt. Het tweede deel). 45 Schuyl, Raedt. Het tweede deel. 46 The re-edition of the joined parts 1 and 2 is Hayrige werelt. See also Sassen, Het wijsgerig onderwijs, 333–4. 47 Schuyl, Raedt, 10–13. 48 Lindeboom, Florentius Schuyl. 49 According to Schuyl, the former was merely natural, and the spilling of the latter the sin of Onan: see Schuyl, Raedt, 14. 180 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

Even those sceptical of the decorative value of hair agree that it is useful: it helps in the evaporation of sweat. The recent results of Vopiscus Fortunatus Plempius and Tommaso Campanella are then called to witness.50 But Schuyl did not only rely on physical arguments. A further set of authorities comes from art history: the painting-books and pictures of Albrecht Dürer (1471–1528), Lucas van Leyden (1494–1533), Lucas Cranach (presumably, the Elder: 1472–1553), Karel van Mander (1548–1606), and ‘a thousand other out- standing painters, who sought to give their images some spirit by swaying h a i r ’. 51 He refers the reader on to the artist (Peter) Rottermondt (fl. 1639–1645) for such artistic evidence. Another source is ancient literature and mythology. Schuyl produces a long list of authors who wrote on the virtues of long hair. As a thoroughly trained classical scholar he takes into account such recent commentaries as those of Adrianus Turnebus (1512–1565) on Plautus, and Filippo Beroaldo (1472–1518) on Tacitus.52 Although these were pagan authors, they were knowledgeable. They are authoritative, because they are taught at universities throughout the country, as Schuyl underscores.53 Clearly, Schuyl placed his method in the tradition of humanist philology and classical scholarship. But there are non-pagan testimonies as well. That long hair is considered an adornment bestowed on man by God can be proved from numerous passages in the Old Testament. When treating the Nazirites, Schuyl, as Saumaise would shortly do, takes into account the translations of Pagnini and of Benito Arias Montano (in the Antwerp Polyglot), along with the States’ Translation. In the latter case, Schuyl invokes not only the translation, but often the marginal comments as well. I will give two examples which show how Schuyl put to use the philological comments in the States’ Translation. Where the Song of Songs 5:11 reads ‘His head is [as] the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, and black as a raven’, a marginal note make clear that the word ‘as’ must be supplied, for Solomon has in mind the golden powder which made the locks shine like gold.54 This reliance on the commentary of the translators is hardly to the point (the difference between a metaphor and a comparison does not impinge on the interpretation whether the gold refers to the head or the hair on the head), as Schuyl seems aware, since he also calls to witness Flavius Josephus, who in his Jewish Antiquities points to the custom of putting on gold dust to make hair

50 ibid., 15. Schuyl reproaches Udemans for being unaware of the difference between hair and nails. Perhaps it was the physical nature of hair which led, a decade later, to a topical question found in many physiological disputations defended in academic schools: whether hair was alive or not. The comparison with fingernails was usually part of a discussion over this subject. See Van Miert, Humanism in an Age of Science, 316–17. 51 Schuyl, Raedt, 19: ‘ick soude derhalven oock wel met de schilder-boecken en prenten van Albert Duir, Carel Vermander Lucas van Leiden, Lucas Craen, en duisend andere uitsteeckende schilders connen betoonen, dat sy door het swierende hair haer beelden eenige geestigheit soec- ken te geven.’ 52 ibid., 20–3. 53 ibid., 24. 54 ibid., 26. Claude Saumaise and the ‘Hairy War’ (1640–1650) 181 shine. Schuyl does not, however, tell that in Josephus the custom of sprinkling gold dust over hair pertains to horses, not to men.55 A second example: at Song of Songs 4:1 (‘thou hast doves’ eyes within thy locks’), Schuyl explains that Arias Montano has indeed ‘locks’ (instead of ‘plaits’, as the States’ Translation has it), or ‘tuiten’ (plaits) or ‘haerbintselen’ (hair ribbons)—two alternatives suggested in the States’ Translation’s marginal comment. Pagnini, however has, ‘cincon- nos columbarum’ (which Schuyl translates as ‘duivelocken’ or ‘doves’ plaits’). For an alternative Dutch translation of the second half of this verse of the Song of Songs (‘thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead’), Schuyl again refers to a marginal comment in the States’ Translation, which runs: ‘which glisten from the mountain of Gilead’, a translation which emphasizes the beauty of shining hair.56 At Song of Songs 7:5 (‘the hair of thine head [is] like purple’) Schuyl deviates from the States’ Translation, for he translates ‘hair locken’ (‘locks of hair’), whereas the States’ Translation has ‘hair bandt’ (‘hair ribbon’). But he points out that the translators of the States’ Translation added in their marginal comment that the Hebrew could also stand for ‘tender and soft hair’.57 Arias Montano and Pagnini each translate ‘locks of hair’. At 4:3 (‘thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate within thy plaits’) Schuyl writes, ‘i.e., within thy locks, as Arias Montano and Pagnini translate’,58 and adds, ‘I also assume that the translators of the States Translation take plaits and locks as synonymous.’ More importantly, the States’ Translation comments that ‘temples’ should be interpreted as ‘red, blushing cheeks’, which shows that the women of Israel let their hair fall over their cheeks.59 Schuyl goes on to refer to several other passages in the Old Testament from which it can be deduced ‘how great an adornment hair and locks of hair have been with the Jews, the people o f G o d ’. 60 Schuyl reframed Paul’s admonition to the Corinthians in a discussion about the essence of natural law, pointing out that Paul spoke on a historical occasion, and arguing that nothing in the law of nature would suggest that long locks are unnatural. If anything, all reasonable people ‘not only do not condemn the locks of men and women, but have even worn them as an elegant cover’,61 The Greeks, the Italians, the Scythians and Parthians, the French and the Merovingians,

55 Schuyl refers to the second chapter of book 8, but the passage is in fact found in 8.7.3. 56 Schuyl, Raedt, 27; ‘Die glinsteren van den berch Gileads’, in States’ Translation, comment 7 ad 4:1. 57 Schuyl, Raedt, 27. The States’ Translation’s ad loc. comment (no. 22) runs: ‘Understand: the ribbon with which one tightens the ostentation or the ornament of the head. The Hebrew word dallath actually means thinness, tenderness, cleanliness, so that here it could also mean thin or tender hair. [Verstaet hier dien bant, daer mede men den pronck ofte cieraet des hoofts op-bindt. Het Hebr. woort dallath beteeckent eygentlick dunnicheyt, teederheyt, properheyt, so dat het hier oock kan beduyden dunne of teeder hayr.].’ 58 Pagnini has ‘tempora tua intra cincinnos tuos’. I consulted Pagnini, tr., Biblia sacra iuxta Germanam Hebraici idiomatis proprietatem, fol. 237r. 59 Schuyl, Raedt, 27–8 and States’ Translation, note 14 ad 4:3. 60 Schuyl, Raedt, 31. 61 ibid., 39. 182 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic the Germans, the Batavians themselves—all of them glorified long hair, as is clear from ancient authors, but also from more recent ones, such as the German geographer Philippus Cluverius (1588–1622), the Amsterdam playwright P. C. Hooft (1581–1641), and the Nijmegen antiquarian Johannes Smetius (1590– 1651). As the Leiden professor of medicine Johannes Heurnius (1543–1601) wrote in his treatise on maladies of the head (1594), even the most barbaric peoples consider hair to be an ornament.62 In short, Schuyl employed medical, art-historical, classical, biblical, legal, and ethnographic arguments in framing Paul’s admonition to the Corinthians and connecting it to contemporary society. The implication was that the apostle in no way spoke directly to seventeenth-century man. The idea that the Bible could not always act as a direct guide book for modern public conduct ran counter to the Further Reformation. This had little to do with Schuyl being a Cartesian, for the Leiden professor of theology Johannes Polyander à Kerckhoven (1568–1648) (Figure 3), who had an impeccable orthodox reputation, came to similar conclusions in his Judgement and Advice on the Use and Abuse of Hairdressing and Clothing, drawn from 1 Corinthians 11, 1 Tim., Tit. 2 and 1 Peter 3. He dedicated his book to the clergy of Dordrecht in the vain hope that unity would soon be restored.63 It is largely a theological analysis of the Pauline text, drawing more on internal logic than on linguistic analysis. According to Polyander, the word ‘nature’ in the Pauline text denoted the ‘old custom of the ancient Greeks, which for them had force of law’, an interpretation for which he referred to Calvin himself, whose commentary he quotes.64 As others had done, he points out the mutability of native customs, not failing to observe that ministers in Dutch Reformed churches delivered their sermons ‘bareheaded’, whereas in the Walloon churches the ministers preached with a cap on.65 In short, Paul’s indictment was no universal divine law, and whoever claimed it was ran the risk of offending co-religionists abroad.66 Even within the Dutch Republic there were different fashions.67 Generally, Polyander admitted that some individuals went too far in nurturing their long hair, but Scripture teaches only general rules, whereas experience was dependent on ‘various circumstances in places, times and persons’.68 With this sort of cultural relativism, Polyander sought to bring unity. In practice his relativism was similar to that of Claude Saumaise and Jacob Revius. It was unavoidable that those who claimed the middle ground, were, at least in the eyes of the anti-hair party, siding with the champions of long hair.

62 ibid., 17. 63 Polyander à Kerkhoven, Iudicium, sig. A2r–v. 64 ibid., 10: ‘antiquorum Graecorum vetus consuetudo, quae apud eos olim vim legis obtinebat, sicuti Calvinus primus Theologorum nostri saeculi illud suis in primam Apostoli Epistolam commentariis recte explicat’. 65 ibid., 13, 19, 26–7. 66 ibid., 32–3. 67 ibid., 38–9. 68 ibid., 76: ‘pro variis locorum, temporum ac personarum circumstantiis’. Claude Saumaise and the ‘Hairy War’ (1640–1650) 183

6.5. NON-BIBLICAL ASSESSMENTS

Other voices defending the liberty to wear long hair took non-biblical points of departure. The Leiden professor of history Marcus Zuerius Boxhorn (1612– 1653) dropped his own political-historical work for a moment to produce in Dutch two Little Mirrors, one on long and one on short hair, ‘worn of old by the people of Holland and Zeeland’, in an attempt to quench the fire.69 Drawing partly on the immensely learned Latin Commentary on Hair, published as early as 1556 by the Dutch humanist Hadrianus Junius (1511–1575; cited also by Jacobus Borstius as an authority), Boxhorn discusses sixteenth-century Dutch customs of hairdressing in historical, art-historical, and linguistic perspectives (referring to sixteenth-century group portraits and reviewing, for instance, Dutch proverbs and idioms involving hair). Boxhorn ignores entirely the biblical discourse, but his approach is interesting because it places a question pertaining to the interpretation in a passage of the Bible in a wider cultural-historical narrative. Some of the questions raised were of a medical character. Udemans, Borstius, and Schuyl (see Figure 4) all addressed the status of hair in physiological terms: was it dead excrement, or was it a living part of the body? It was only natural that a physician such as Johannes Beverwijck (1594–1647) felt compelled to enter the controversy. Beverwijck lived in Dordrecht and experienced the Hairy War at close quarters.70 In 1646 he wrote that hair served to cover the skull, where the skin was very thin, and the neck, where the nerves stuck out of the spine and were vulnerable to cold. But it should not fall over the shoulders, which is contrary to its proper use and is against good morals, ‘as has been pointed out well by the honourable and highly learned Jacob Borstius, in his soul-moving admonition’.71 The issue set in motion satirical pens as well, such as Constantijn Huygens’s, who came up with On the Controversy over Hair, Stirred Up in Holland (‘In controversiam de coma, in Batavia agitatam’).72 Not explicitly referring to the controversy were songs like Johan van Born’s (1614–after 1645) ‘Tegen de eygen liefde’ (‘Against Self-Love’; published in 1645 and republished in another song

69 Boxhorn, Spiegeltjen, vertoonend ’t lanck hayr en Spiegeltjen vertoonende ’t Cort Hayr. On Boxhorn’s political work, see Van Nieuwstraaten, ‘Historical and Political Thought’. 70 Beverwijck had previously boosted his reputation as a scholarly physician by publishing an epistolary survey on questions regarding the end of life. See Nellen, ‘De vitae termino’, 731–740. 71 Beverwijck’s little treatise on hair was appended in 1646 to the third part of Beverwijck’s Heel-konst of 1645, and integrated into subsequent editions of this book. See, e.g., Beverwijck, Heel-Konste, ofte Derde deel, 142 (book 2, chapter 3, paragraph 8): ‘Dat verder over de schouderen gaet, en strijdt niet alleen tegen sijn recht gebruyck, daer het toe geschapen is, maer oock tegens de stichtelickheyt, gelijck wel aen-gewesen is van den eerweerdigen, ende hoogh-geleerden D. Iacobus Borsthius, in sijne ziel-buygende Vermaninge.’ See also De Vries, ‘Zeventiende-eeuwse haarkloverijen’, 179. 72 Huygens, De Gedichten, vol. 4, 2. Fig. 3. Polyander à Kerckhoven at seventy-seven, engraving by Cornelis van Dalen (I), after a painting by David Baudringien, 1645. Image by courtesy of the Rijksmuseum (shelf mark RP-P-BI-6714). Claude Saumaise and the ‘Hairy War’ (1640–1650) 185

Fig. 4. The long-haired Florentius Schuyl in 1666; portrait (oil on copper) by Frans van Mieris the Elder. Image by courtesy of Mauritshuis, The Hague (Inventory Number 107). collection around 1648). The song told the story of Narcissus, who admired his own golden locks in the water’s mirror and who was doomed because of his vanity and self-love.73

6.6. SAUMAISE ENTERS THE FRAY

And then there was Claude Saumaise. He entered the fray in 1644, when on the request of the Dordrecht minister Andreas Colvius (1594–1671) he published an Epistle to Colvius on Hair (1644) in Latin. He thought it necessary to restore balance, now that the opponents of men with long hair reckoned that sermons against long hair had not reached enough people and had begun to spread books in the vernacular ‘among the common people’ (a reference to Udemans’s Absalom’s Hair).74 Because Saumaise is such a towering figure in the history of scholarship, because his biblical scholarship has largely been ignored, and

73 Van Born, Geestelick vreugde-beeckje, 100–1; reprinted in Pers, Bellerophon, 73–4. 74 Saumaise, Epistola, 5. 186 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic because he held such sway as a leader of orthodox Calvinism, the rest of this chapter is dedicated to two of his works that have been completely neglected in the history of scholarship. On 4 April 1644, Saumaise asked his then-still-friendly correspondent, the doyen of reformed orthodoxy André Rivet, for copies of Gisbertus Voetius’s disputations on hair. ‘I promise that they will not serve to write against him, nor to mention him, but I would very much like to know which passage in particular he relies on.’75 Three days later, he reassured Rivet that he did not want to enter into a dispute with Voetius, but was just curious to learn what Voetius had to say. ‘It were best to . . . write a small and simple letter on the matter, but you know that I am not a man of one word.’76 Saumaise’s epistle was indeed no ‘small and simple letter’: the 740 pages of this Latin Epistle to Colvius, about 1 Corinthians 11 on the long hair of men and women, are replete with Greek and even Hebrew quotations. Rivet obliged and sent Voetius’s theses to Saumaise, not without asking for his opinion. Saumaise replied: If one would get a healthier head by cutting one’s hair, one cleansed of false opinions, ambition and other vices, it would be a good device and a clever way to root out every sign of a sin coming from the head. But I rather fear that having torn out all a man’s hair, one has to provide him with another contraption to make sure all the evil remains inside.77 This exchange shows that behind the scenes Rivet helped Saumaise to defend the liberty of men with long hair against Voetius. Rivet doubtless expected Saumaise to argue in favour of men’s freedom to wear long hair. This correspondence between Saumaise and Rivet also shows that the discussions were not limited to publications, but were also conducted in unpublished letters. The letters of Gerardus Vossius to Saumaise about hairdressing confirm such back-channelling.78 On the advice of Vossius, Saumaise spilled most of his ink on the history of tonsure. His Epistle to Colvius on Hair disappointed Rivet, who confided to Sarrau his dismay that Saumaise could be so easily distracted as to waste his time on ‘such works, which delay his other works and clutter the printing p r e s s’. 79 Saumaise’s Latin Epistle to Colvius on Hair appeared in July 1644,80 and

75 Saumaise to Rivet, 4 April 1644, in Saumaise and Rivet, Correspondance , 352. 76 Saumaise to Rivet, 7 April 1644, in ibid., 353. 77 Saumaise to Rivet, 7 April 1644, in ibid., 354. 78 Vossius to Saumaise, undated, in Vossius, Epistolae, 412–13, no. 467; Vossius to Saumaise, 7 June 1644, in ibid., 413–15, no. 468. Vossius advised Saumaise to take into account the history of the tonsure of monks, because this history shows the arguments why it was deemed holy to cut one’s hair and it reveals the discussions over the manner of haircutting. The second letter was in fact printed at the end of Saumaise, Epistola, 741–7. 79 Rivet to Sarrau, 4 April 1644, in Rivet and Sarrau, Correspondance intégrale, 242. 80 See Constantijn Huygens to David le Leu de Wilhem, 2 August 1644, in Huygens, Briefwisseling, vol. 4, 20, no. 3647); Huygens read Saumaise’s Epistle to Colvius on Hair in Claude Saumaise and the ‘Hairy War’ (1640–1650) 187 found its way to a larger public a year later in a Dutch translation printed in Dordrecht, with some desperate footnotes by a translator who struggled to render in the vernacular Saumaise’s discussions of conjectures in ancient Greek texts and patristic authors.81 Apparently, Saumaise’s highbrow philology was commercially viable enough to be published in the vernacular. This was the only publication of Saumaise which ever made it into the vernacular (apart from the Dutch and French translations [each 1650] of his Defensio regia pro Carolo I, published in 1649 as part of his famous polemic with John Milton about the execution of King Charles I). There was apparently a non-Latin- reading public assumed to be interested in the nitty-gritty of the history of hair and eager to familiarize itself with Saumaise’s linguistic analyses of technical words and his cultural, even ethnographic, assessment of the biblical text. This is all the more surprising because the book carries the mark of a typically Salmasian chaos: it rambles on for hundreds of pages, without any subdivisions in books, chapters, or headings. The book swarms with repetitions: scattered over the treatise, the same discussions crop up time and again. Saumaise returns, for example, at six different places to the discussion of the Septuagint’s translation of Leviticus 19:27:82 ‘Ye shall not round the corners of your heads.’ After reviewing the translations of Theodotion, Aquila of Sinope, and the Targumim, he compares the translations of the Septuagint, the Vulgate, the Rabbis, Symmachus the Ebionite, Hesychius of Jerusalem, and finally Irenaeus, before concluding that Leviticus forbids the Jews ‘to shave round about the front part of the forehead’. With this commandment, Moses attempted to distinguish the Jews from the Canaanites, Phoenicians, and Arabs.83 This combination of linguistic analysis and historical Sitz im Leben is typical of Saumaise’s method. Starting from the premises that the commandments of the apostle Paul are often dictated by times, places, and public audience, that such non-universal commandments should not be considered necessary, and that different nations have varying customs and traditions,84 Saumaise treated the historical context of the biblical text, and compared rituals and ceremonies of the Bible anthropo- logically with other peoples mentioned in the Old Testament, and with the Greeks and Romans, without forgetting the occasional Frank, Scythian, Tatar, Ethiopian, Parthian, or American Indian.85 His eye for the Sitz im Leben of Paul’s Epistle to the Corinthians reminds us of how Scaliger limited Paul’s word in the same epistle to a strict time and place.86

September; see Huygens to Saumaise, 23 September 1644, ibid., 75, no. 3773. He sent him a poem with his comments on 18 October 1644 (Huygens to Saumaise, 18 October 1644, ibid., 92, no. 3812. 81 Saumaise, Brief.On Saumaise’s style of writing, see the verdict of Samuel Sorbière (Colomesius, Gallia orientalis, 216), cited in Leroy, Le dernier voyage, 53. 82 Saumaise, Epistola, 46, 63, 252, 312, 601, and 622. 83 ibid., 50–2. 84 ibid., 9–10. 85 ibid., 289–90, and 713. 86 See above, chapter 1, section 1.2, ‘Scaliger’s Biblical Philological Annotations as Printed Posthumously in his Letters’, n. 34. 188 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

Fig. 5. A coin with the Fig. 6. A coin, with the head of Moses (Schickardus, head of Moses (Saumaise, Tarich, 34). Image by courtesy of Leiden University Epistola ad Colvium, 79). Library (shelf mark 388 C 14). Image by courtesy of Leiden University Library (shelf mark 603 G 1).

Saumaise’s treatment is highly antiquarian. There is, for example, a complicated discussion of different values of weights and interpretations of how much Absalom’s yearly cut hair weighed (2 Samuel 14:26: ‘he weighed the hair of his head at two hundred shekels after the king’s weight’). Flavius Josephus’s Hebrew minae, Attic drachmae, and Roman pounds are all discussed. In his treatment of such matters, Saumaise repeatedly refers to the Septuagint, the Vulgate, and to Catholic interpreters of the Bible such as François Vatable. He deems it better, however, to trust Flavius Josephus’s interpretation of the Hebrew weights.87 There are many such instances in which Saumaise considers the disputed meanings of Hebrew and Greek words. Thus, like other participants, he tries to establish exactly what the Greek verb κομᾶν means,88 concluding at last that it signifies ‘to nourish hair’ or ‘to let it grow as long as women wear it’.89 But Saumaise also drew on visual material, referring twice to a coin, which he had seen in Wilhelm Schikardus’s (1592–1635) book on the Persian kings (Figures 5 and 6),90 and to images of Moses on vaults of catacombs depicted in Antonio Bosio’s (1576–1629) Roma sotteranea.91 Although Saumaise’s analysis is flawed,92 it is interesting that he uses antiquarian sources to reconstruct a cultural context.

87 Saumaise, Epistola, 38–40. See also 320–2. 88 ibid., 552–5. 89 ibid., 555. 90 ibid., 79 and 235; Schikardus, Tarich, 34. 91 Bosio, Roma sotteranea. Saumaise must have relied on the original Italian edition, as the Latin translation of 1651 had not yet appeared. 92 One of the images, according to Saumaise, showed Moses with long hair (ibid., 81; cf. 118, 264, and 667 for other uses of Bosio). This analysis is flawed, because Moses is depicted no fewer than twenty-three times in Bosio’s reproductions, and on only two of these images does Moses appear to have long hair. The other twenty-one images show him with short hair or with hair just covering the ears (ibid. , 281, image 2: Moses with long hair and a beard). This is an image decor- ating the sarcophagus of Pope Calixtus—the First, presumably, who held the keys from 217 to 222). A second picture with a long-haired Moses appears on 381, reproducing a fresco from room 13 Claude Saumaise and the ‘Hairy War’ (1640–1650) 189

The Epistle to Colvius on Hair presented an antiquarian, linguistic, and ethnographic assessment of the biblical text, and a learned exposure of the tonsure in later ages. The gist of it claims that Paul condemns effeminate hairstyles and uncut hair on men, but not long hair as such.93 The length of hair depended on civilizations and climates.94

6.7. A LATIN UTOPIAN SATIRE

Saumaise did not tire of the subject. After the publication of this hodgepodge outpouring on the pagan and Jewish contexts of Paul’s admonition to the Corinthians, and its monastic aftermath, he proceeded to publish, in Latin, Serious Humour, or a First Dialogue on Hair, featuring Caesarius and Curtius conversing. These trifles treat serious business (1645).95 This satire carries the flavour of Saumaise’s conversational wit. It poked fun at the controversy as a whole, and at the adversaries of men with long hair in particular. Again, textual criticism, linguistic analysis, and a sense of historical context play central roles in Saumaise’s expounding of the biblical text. Caesarius (caesaries is Latin for—usually long—hair) runs into Curtius (from curtus, ‘short’), whom he hardly recognizes: his rough head of hair seems to have slid down his face and settled on his chin. Curtius explains how he came to be bald. He was on a ship which in a storm was washed up on the shores of the unknown island of Megalonesos (Large Island), inhabited by two warring tribes: the Psili (the Bald) occupied one half, the Mallots (Rough-Heads) the other. Curtius explains how the war had started. A preacher reluctant to accept that he was growing bald began teaching that long hair was natural for women but not men. Interpreting the island’s holy scriptures according to his own will, he was followed by lower pastors, and before long, church folk began heading straight for the barber’s after church. Fearing an invasion of the people who lived on the other side of the island, the priest attempted to convert those as well. But here he met with opposition. Resistance was led by another divine, a

of the Cemetery of Saint Marcellinus and Peter, on the Via Lavicana. All other instances show Moses with either short hair (231, 239, 369, 389, 395, 565, and 567) or hair reaching no further than the ears (363, 307, 343, 359, 393, 429, 445, 455, 467, 503, 515, and 521). On one image, Moses’s hair is not visible (255). A second reason why Saumaise’s argument is invalid is that these images date from the second century ad at the earliest and are therefore in no way representative of the times of Moses. For another case in which he relies on images appearing on stones and medals, this time depicting St Peter, see Saumaise, Epistola, 147–8 and 235. 93 Saumaise, Epistola, 428. 94 Leroy, Le dernier voyage, 57. 95 Saumaise, Σπουδογέλοιος. For the motto, see Horace, Ars Poetica, 451: ‘Hae nugae seria ducent.’ 190 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic bible-thumping minister who thundered against bald heads from the pulpit.96 Though both peoples had exactly the same faith, they were divided by their opinions on hair: The hatred of the Psili towards the Mallots is particularly bad. The Mallots are a bit more restrained and softer towards the Psili. But the Psili have no control whatsoever. They long after and thirst for nothing else than the blood of their enemies. And they make known their hatred in every aspect of their lives. The sun they regard not as much as the moon, because they say the sun radiates with a hairy kind of splendour. They very much respect asses, which have large and eminent ears, which their short head hair does not prevent from sticking out. They abound in he-goats, and they think very highly of them, regarding them to be very wise animals, because they have beards.97 The two peoples fought each other in battles, taking prisoners of war who were kept in custody for two years. These unfortunate detainees were forced to let either their hair or their beards grow, and to shave their chins or their skulls, before getting the opportunity to integrate into a new society. Religious leaders and teachers raged at one another from pulpits and professorial chairs, and all referred to their sacred scriptures for backing. Caesarius responds: ‘And I am not surprised. There has never been a heretic, no matter how ridiculous or abominable, who has not passionately desired to strengthen his heresy with the authority of the Holy Scriptures.’98 This phrasing is remarkably similar to a passage which would appear twenty-five years later at the beginning of chapter 14 in Spinoza’s Tractatus theologico-politicus: ‘Who, I say, does not see that this is the most important reason that sectarians teach so many and so contradicting opinions and demonstrations of faith and confirm these with many examples from the Bible. Hence the Dutch have since long used the proverb “no heretic without a letter”.’99 The dialogue then evolves into an exposition by Caesarius on the Greek text of 1 Corinthians 11:14–15. Curtius at first cites the Vulgate, but Caesarius, of course, wants to go ad fontes and asks Curtius to cite the Greek text. Curtius complies, but Caesarius disagrees with his reading, which has an interrogative particle that is not in the oldest manuscripts. This was the reason why Jerome in his Vulgate had failed to translate the two verses as a rhetorical question. (Nestle-Aland indeed relegate the interrogative particle to the critical apparatus.100) But surely, Caesarius goes on, it must be read as a rhetorical question, otherwise it would make no sense.101 After Caesarius has shown off his knowledge of textual criticism and his abilities to analyse the text rhetorically, Curtius replies that the difficulty lies, of course, not with the particle, but with the proper interpretation of the two words ϕύσις (‘nature’) and κομᾶν (‘to have long hair/let the hair

96 Saumaise,97 ibid., 35. Σπουδογέλοιος98 ibid., 26–31., 43. 99 Spinoza, Tractatus theologico-politicus, 159.

100 Nestle-Aland, Novum Testamentum, 459. 101 Saumaise, Σπουδογέλοιος, 51–3. Claude Saumaise and the ‘Hairy War’ (1640–1650) 191 grow’).102 Caesarius then repeats much of what Saumaise had already said in the Epistle to Colvius on Hair. But Curtius is not easily satisfied. He now also wants to show that he knows something about the textual transmission, reminding his interlocutor that ‘in a Greek codex of venerable antiquity, the words are as follows: ὅτι ἡ κόμη περιβολαίου δέδεται, not, as is usually read, δέδοται αὐτῇ’. However, he immediately adds that ‘this variant is of little consequence, for the sense remains the same in both versions’.103 This codex refers to none other than Codex Alexandrinus, collations of which Saumaise obtained in 1640.104 Saumaise seems only to have wanted to demonstrate his knowledge of this manuscript, collations of which were, as we have seen in chapters 4 and 5, also sought by Daniel Heinsius and Hugo Grotius, who both cite it in their published biblical annotations. Caesarius eventually manages to convince his friend of the futility of the issue and the madness of the Psili. Curtius promises to have his beard shaved off the next day and to wear a wig until his hair grows back. But Caesarius does not really care: a haircut is not an article of faith and having long hair is no mortal sin. If it were so, why then have the Psili never prescribed a maximum hair length? Perhaps even a fingers’ breadth is too much. Caesarius concludes that if the Psili are so afraid, it is safest for them to shave their skulls every morning, pamper them with depilatory ointment, and protect the bare skin with a depilatory plaster as a sort of veil or bonnet.105 Saumaise’s satire reiterated many of the stock arguments, but it did so in a type of contrast-imitation of Udemans’s dialogue: for a change it was (at 115 pages) relatively short (unlike Udemans’s 500-page dialogue and unlike Saumaise’s other writings), and it was in Latin. It was clearly pitched at a sophisticated and learned audience. More importantly, it shows that parts of the intellectual establishment had now stopped taking the issue seriously. The future belonged to those who interpreted much of the Bible historically, and it was not long before Calvinist clergymen themselves started to wear wigs.

6.8. CONCLUSIONS

The Hairy War involved various media in both Latin and the vernacular. Apart from treatises and disputations, and letters exchanged between professors, there were poems written about the Hairy War, as well as (satirical) dialogues, songs, and sermons. Some of these writings—sermons, disputations, and

102 ibid., 52–3. 103 ibid., 88–9. 104 Dibon and Waquet, Johannes Fredericus Gronovius, 125. 105 Saumaise, Σπουδογέλοιος, 113–14. 192 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic songs—were performative in origin. Latin and the vernacular overlapped, and reference was made in both languages to publications in the other language. The discussion was clearly not limited to an academic setting: there were geographical focal points in Dordrecht, Bois-le-Duc, Leiden, and Utrecht. But the fact that someone from Hoorn translated Saumaise’s Epistle to Colvius on Hair and that in Amsterdam people yelled at each other in the streets shows that the discussion spread over at least the western provinces of the Dutch Republic and was fought out in universities and churches. Church folk might not have grasped the details of the technical and historical discussions conducted by the theologians and philologists, but that there was a split within the orthodox camp over how to interpret the word of Paul was clear enough to everyone. Reference was made to the recently published States’ Translation, which helped to bring biblical philology into the public domain. Due to the Hairy War, it was widely broadcast that the meanings of some Hebrew and Greek words were unclear, that there were problems of a textual-critical nature, and that the biblical text should be read in its historical and ethnographic contexts. Thus, biblical philology was now being translated into the vernacular and appropriated by ministers. It ceased to be a purely acadmic endeavour. Now, well-educated people were acquainted with the idea that the Bible was written in historical circumstances that were not necessarily applicable to the seventeenth century. Moreover, we see here that biblical philology played a role in discussions about the authority of the Bible in installing moral discipline into the members of a society. That was in principle the same type of question, albeit with less profound consequences, as Spinoza treated in the Tractatus theologico- politicus: what were the moral lessons the Bible could teach ordinary people to guide their public conduct? Among the generation which came of age in the 1640s was, of course, that same Spinoza (who had long hair himself). He, his future readers, and church folk at large came into contact with historical analyses of the Bible. This is to say that readers of Spinoza’s Tractatus theologico-politicus were intimately familiar with the type of biblical-philological arguments that he marshalled in the service of a far more radical conclusion than that men should be allowed to wear long hair. As for Rivet and Saumaise, they had to deal with creative and radical interpretations of the Bible while they were devoting their attention to long hair. For this was also the decade in which a particularly radical egg was hatched. 7

Radical Philology: Isaac de La Peyrère (1643–1660)

7.1. ISAAC DE LA PEYRÈRE AND THE SALMASIAN NETWORK

In March 1642, when Holland’s preachers were railing from their pulpits against men wearing long hair, a manuscript materialized in Paris of a work that would soon dwarf the alleged subversiveness of hair length. Gabriel Naudé, librarian to Cardinal Richelieu, was among the very first to read it, and his patron, who read it too, was so shocked by the contents that he immediately forbade its publication. The work argued that Adam was not the first man and that the world had been populated by humans long before him.1 The book was published anonymously thirteen years later in a much revised and expanded version. Spinoza’s Tractatus theologico-politicus would fail to trump it as the century’s most refuted book.2 Its author was Isaac de La Peyrère. The French scholar La Peyrère was a millennialist. He expected Christ to return soon, but this project was conditioned by three principal points: the election, rejection, and recalling of the Jews. The Jews had been elected and rejected, and now awaited recall. For mankind as a whole to move on and for the end times to come, first the Jews had to convert to Christianity. In La Peyrère’s vision this Christianity consisted of a minimal Christian creed with an ecumenical orientation. ‘I hope that God will grant me the favour to discover secrets which will no less satisfy minds because of their truth and solidity, as they will surprise them

1 Malcolm, Aspects of Hobbes, 393–4. Malcolm saw two pieces of evidence: the unpublished Naudéana, in a manuscript now in Vienna (Austrian National Library, Ms. 7071; the part which Malcolm cites is datable to 19 March 1642), and a letter from Naudé to Francesco Barberini of June 1642, kept in the Vatican Library, Ms. Cod. Barb. Lat. 6471, fols 22–3 (22v). Popkin, Isaac La Peyrère, 6, incorrectly states the letter was written in 1641. 2 Robinson, ‘Isaac de La Peyrère,’ 128, n. 25, quotes Popkin, as calling it ‘the most refuted book of the century’. I do not know of comparative countings of refutations of the Praeadamitae and the Theological-Political Treatise. 194 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic because of their novelty.’3 Novel they were. The underlying aim of La Peyrère’s pre-Adamite theory was to show that the history of the Jews, written and transmitted by the Jewish people, was only one part of the history of mankind, and not identical to universal history. This deprived the Bible of its status as a universal history of all mankind. La Peyrère had no particular explanation why Jewish history is at the centre of world history. He admitted that he did not know why the accounts of any of the pre-Adamite gentile peoples were over- ruled. The rest of humanity had only an indirect role in the history of providence.4 This just happened to be the way that God chose to save mankind.5 The king of France, prefigured in the Old Testament through symbols such as the lily, would lead the converted Jews to Jerusalem, where the king and the Messiah would rule in eternal peace over the whole of mankind. As David Wetsel (in 1994) pointed out, ‘La Peyrère’s whole eschatological scenario may seem vaguely familiar to late-night television viewers who may have chanced to stumble upon the more extreme of the contemporary tele-evangelists.’6 Undisturbed by Naudé’s and Richelieu’s shocked reactions, La Peyrère circulated another manuscript in Paris in 1643: Du Rappel des Iuifs. At that time, he was already known to Grotius, Guy Patin, Marin Mersenne, Rivet, Sarrau, and Saumaise for fostering a pre-Adamite theory, and he was also known to associates and correspondents of the Cabinet Dupuy. He subsequently published his Du Rappel des Iuifs, which, however wayward, does not mention the pre-Adamites. The respect that La Peyrère commanded in circles that integrated intellectual and diplomatic people was evident from his joining of a French diplomatic mission to Scandinavia in 1644 to assist at France’s brokering of peace between Sweden and Denmark.7 In April, La Peyrère, on his way to Scandinavia, visited André Rivet in The Hague and Claude Saumaise in Leiden.8 Rivet received him courteously. It is intriguing to notice that an orthodox Calvinist authority like André Rivet communicated with a man who he knew held one of the most heretical theories imaginable. After all, it was around this time that Rivet, Saumaise, and other orthodox luminaries such as Frederic Spanheim formed a united front against the Huguenot congregations in Saumur and Paris, which argued for a less strict theology of grace.9 Rivet, together with the Leiden professors of theology Antonius Walaeus, Johannes Polyander à Kerckhoven, and Anthonius Thysius, formed the academic committee of wise men, providing the touchstone

3 La Peyrère, Du rappel des Iuifs, 373–5: ‘J’espère que Dieu me fera la grance de descouvrir des Secrets qui ne satisferont pas moins les Espris pur leur Verité, et Solidite, qu’ils les surprenderont pour leur Nouveauté.’ 4 Popkin, Isaac La Peyrère, 53. 5 ibid., 53. 6 Wetsel, Pascal and Disbelief, 142. 7 On the reasons for La Peyrère’s initial acceptance in greater detail, see Van Miert and Nellen, ‘Media en tolerantie’. 8 Rivet to Sarrau, 4 April 1644, in Rivet and Sarrau, Correspondance intégrale, vol. 2, 242; Saumaise to Rivet, 4 April 1644, in Saumaise and Rivet, Correspondance, 352). 9 Saumaise and Rivet, Correspondance, XXIII; Laplanche, L’é c r i t u r e . Radical Philology: Isaac de La Peyrère (1643–1660) 195 of Dutch Calvinism in their often-reprinted collection of fifty-two disputations entitled Synopsis of Purer Theology (1625).10 Contrary to what one might expect, however, Rivet did not condemn La Peyrère, at least not in 1644. This paradox can be explained by intellectual contexts, by La Peyrère’s soci- ability, by the relations within the particular province of the Republic of Letters in which he moved, and by the media that La Peyrère employed. That La Peyrère was palatable to the likes of Rivet could indicate that millenarian interpretations, the antiquarian study of the Bible, and biblical chronology belonged to a category of thought regarded as less harmful than the subtleties of predestination and soteriology. Intra-Calvinist controversies revolved primarily around theological constructions regarding free will, the role of Christ, grace, election, and the historical position of the pope, and the consequences these had for taking a position against Rome and French Catholicism. But mil- lennialism played a certain role in the teleological scheme of Christian events, and chiliasm as such was confessionally neutral: millennial thinking occurred within both Catholic and Protestant denominations. In this sense, La Peyrère took a confessionally unproblematic position. In other senses, too, La Peyrère held a rather neutral position: he was not in the service of a church or a university. As the secretary first of Henri II de Condé and, from the king’s death at the end of 1646 onwards, of his son Louis II de Bourbon, the ‘Grand Condé’ he enjoyed relative freedom of movement. Condé, who was on friendly terms with Grotius, seemed to favour a reunion of the religions.11 La Peyrère was also a very friendly man, who made for charm- ing company.12 Then there was a social circumstance: Rivet and Saumaise were no doubt also favourably disposed towards him because he shared with them a common enemy: Hugo Grotius. Grotius was not only working on his Annotationes, while publishing a dozen other works on political-religious issues, often explicitly directed against Rivet, but he was also embroiled in a controversy with the Dutch West Indian Company director Johannes de Laet about the origin of the native (North and South) ‘American people’.13 Grotius had insulted in print the man who came up with the pre-Adamite theory.14 In the second of the two treatises which Grotius published as part of this polemic, he briefly (on page 15) made mention of the theory ‘that some men had been created before Adam, as

10 See chapter 2, section 2.2, ‘The Controversy Starts’, n. 5. 11 Nellen, Hugo de Groot, 519–20. 12 Sarrau to Rivet, 23 April 1644, in Rivet and Sarrau, Correspondance intégrale, vol. 2, 249. See also Grafton, ‘Isaac La Peyrère and the Old Testament’, 212. 13 Grafton, ‘Isaac La Peyrère and the Old Testament’, 206. On Grotius’s methods and source criticism, see Rubies, ‘Hugo Grotius’s Dissertation’, 228, 230–1 and Janssen, ‘In Search of the Origins’. 14 Grotius, De origine gentium Americanarum dissertatio altera; cf. the postscript to Sarrau to Saumaise, 12 November 1643, in Sarrau, Epistolae, 74–5. A year earlier, Grotius published his first De origine gentium Americanarum dissertatio (TMD, Bibliographie de Grotius, no. 725). For the latest overview of the controversy and its various interpretations, see Janssen, ‘In Search of the Origins’. 196 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic recently someone in France fantasized’; this posed a threat to piety, Grotius dryly added.15 The most important reason why La Peyrère was acceptable to Rivet was probably not that he was independent, friendly, and an enemy of Grotius, but that he circulated his theory in manuscript only. Like Grotius, Rivet of course rejected La Peyrère’s pre-Adamatism, but Grotius had crossed the boundary between private communication and print and that is what irked La Peyrère: Grotius ridiculed his theory in a printed work. La Peyrère retaliated in print on more than one occasion.16 Private communication was conducted in the Cabinet Dupuy, orally, behind closed doors. Some of its contents spilled over into correspondences conducted among a coterie of intellectuals in the Republic of Letters, to men such as Rivet, Sarrau, and Saumaise. The spread of the contents of these letters remained limited: such learned correspondences represented not precisely a ‘scribal publication’ in Harold Love’s sense, for the letters were usually transcribed once or twice, if they were copied out at all. But they were a step away from an oral conversation.17 La Peyrère was accepted in the Republic of Letters as long as he kept his theories indoors, or circulated them only in a very limited number of manuscripts or in letters. As soon as he went public by having his book printed and published in 1655, he was ostracized, demonized for his abominable hereti- cism, and attacked publicly in print on an unprecedented scale. So it was possible to foster radical ideas without suffering social exclusion, as long as one did not publish such ideas and kept them politely within a circle of intellectuals, in particular if one was not subject to institutional discipline. Du rappel des Iuifs was published in 1643, but the book was just one of a myriad of millennial writings and it proved not particularly offensive (although it was attacked in a printed disputation by Jacobus Revius in 1653, as we will see). In Denmark, La Peyrère occupied himself not only with politics, but perhaps even more so with research. Here, he found new evidence in support of his pre-Adamite theory. He seized the opportunity to dive into the history of Iceland and he drafted aRelation de l’Islande (published only in 1663), for which he relied heavily on material provided to him by his new friend, Ole Worm. This work steered clear of the Bible as such, but it had direct implications for the interpretation of biblical history. La Peyrère’s proof that the native inhabit- ants of the Americas could not have descended from the Icelandic people served to underscore his pre-Adamite theory. That is, antiquarian and natural- history research shored up the idea that Adam was not the first man.

15 Grotius, De origine gentium Americanarum dissertatio altera, 15: ‘ . . . aut aliquos ante Adamum fuisse conditos homines, ut nuper aliquis in Gallia somniavit. Si hae credantur, magnum video periculum pietati’. For the polemic between Grotius and De Laet, see Schmidt, ‘Space, Time, Travel’. 16 La Peyrère, Relation du Groenland, 273–4; La Peyrère, Systema Theologicum 4.14, 236; Rivet and Sarrau, Correspondance intégrale, vol. 2, 231, n. 9. 17 On the descending grades of confidentiality attached to the media of oral conversation, correspondence, and printed work, see Van Miert and Nellen, ‘Media en tolerantie’. Radical Philology: Isaac de La Peyrère (1643–1660) 197

In April 1646, La Peyrère returned to Paris, and stopped in Holland on the way back. He paid Rivet another visit. ‘He has stopped speaking about pre- Adamites’, Rivet observed with apparent relief.18 But La Peyrère had hardly abandoned his pet theory. On the contrary, his stay in Holland would only strengthen his conviction that the world had been populated before Adam. This is clear from a new work, which he drafted in The Hague in July 1646,19 which drew inspiration from ancient conceptions of time he had heard about from Claude Saumaise. Published in Paris in 1647, La Peyrère’s Relation du Groenland was dedicated to the sceptical philosopher and popular courtier François de La Mothe Le Vayer, to whom he had also addressed his (shorter) letter on Iceland.20 The book investigates geographical sources in Danish (which were interpreted for La Peyrère by a Danish gentleman21) and the Icelandic chronicle by Snorri Sturluson (1179–1241). This research brought La Peyrère to the conclusion that the Vikings could not account for the origin of the native people of Greenland, and that hence these did not descend from Adam. In short, La Peyrère presented another argument for the validity of his pre-Adamite theory. The Relation du Groenland shows La Peyrère as a true universal scholar. Even though he did not know Greek and Hebrew, and presumably had little or no Icelandic, Norwegian, or Danish, he compensated for these deficiencies with his ingenuity in exploring historical and geographical sources in the vernacular for an international French-reading public.22 With La Peyrère, the study of vernacular Scandinavian sources was closely tied up with the subject of biblical philology. The connection between Nordic history and the assessment of biblical history was not unique: Ole Worm’s collection of curiosities was, like other such musaea, an antiquarian and zoological resource for the study of biblical history and fauna (although Worm himself did not pursue a biblical agenda).23 The historical study of the Bible bore ramifications for new realms of knowledge. The link between the Relation du Groenland and the Praeadamitae is clear from the latter’s second part (Systema Theologicum, notably 4.14), which repeats the arguments of the Relation in more detail. When writing the Relation du Groenland in The Hague, La Peyrère was preoccupied by the pre-Adamites, but he was wise enough not to speak on the subject with Rivet (from which Rivet drew the misguided conclusion that La Peyrère had put the pre-Adamite theory behind him).

18 Rivet to Sarrau, 30 April 1646, in Rivet and Sarrau, Correspondance intégrale, vol. 3, 398. 19 La Peyrère signed his Relation du Groenland 18 July 1646, in The Hague. 20 In a note on the making of the map of Greenland printed in the front of the book, La Peyrère describes his sources and his way of interpreting them. In the end, as he admitted, he based his book on Danish sources only, and he leaves it to the English and Dutch to do the geography (Relation du Groenland, sig. [ā vij]r–v). 21 A certain Rets, who has not been identified any further; La Peyrère, Relation du Groenland, 4. 22 The beginning of Scandinavian history in Latin is marked by Pontanus, Rerum Danicarum historia (1631), and Meursius, Historia Danica (1630 and 1638). 23 Jorink, Reading the Book of Nature, 269–78, deals with the Enkhuizen collection of Bernardus Paludanus, who contributed to Ole Worm’s collection. See also Schnapp, ‘The Pre-Adamites’, 408–11. 198 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

On his way back to France, La Peyrère not only visited Rivet, but also called on Saumaise again. Later in life, he recalled that he and the French ambassador Gaspard Coignet de La Thuillerie spent an evening at Saumaise’s, and that both were mightily impressed with Saumaise’s lessons on the climacteric years (the periodically returning years when people, according to ancient astrology, went through a critical phase, both mentally and physically). La Peyrère asked Saumaise afterwards, in the name of the ambassador, to put his words to paper. Saumaise, who had paid a similar favour to Colvius two years earlier with Epistle to Colvius, complied. On 11 August, Rivet reported to Sarrau that Saumaise had written for La Peyrère an ‘epistola de anno climacterico’, which according to Rivet counted ‘about three or four quires, if he can restrain himself. Because the wagon has no brakes, once it is set in motion.’24 Indeed, Saumaise provided— again—much more than a verbal record of an evening’s intellectual chatter: witness the prodigious size of De annis climactericis. La Peyrère was back in Paris when Saumaise’s De annis climactericis appeared in Leiden, and in it he found impressive ammunition to defend his pre-Adamite theory, which had now been on his mind for about five years. He wrote to Saumaise, thanking him ‘on behalf of my pre-Adamites’ and calling him ‘their midwife’.25 La Peyrère’s contact with such scholarly luminaries as the celebrated antiquarian collector Ole Worm and the polymath Saumaise had deepened his knowledge of history and chronology, and strengthened his confidence that much of what he had to say harmonized with the methods of well-respected citizens of the Republic of Letters.

7.2. LA PEYRÈRE’S USE OF SAUMAISE AND SCALIGER

What Saumaise thought of La Peyrère’s praise is not known, but he is unlikely to have been taken in by it. What La Peyrère took from Saumaise’s work had little to do with ancient astrology or the climacteric years. What struck a chord with La Peyrère was Saumaise’s mentioning of the large time spans by which some pre-Christian cultures measured their histories: he recalled Saumaise’s

24 Rivet to Sarrau, 11 August 1646, in Rivet and Sarrau, Correspondance intégrale, vol. 3, 474: ‘Mons. de la Peirere me vient de dire que Mons. l’Ambass[adeur] part Jeudy. Mons. de Saumaise luy faict une Epistre de anno climacterico, qui sera de trois ou quatre feuïlles, s’il peut tant se restreindre. Car currus non audit habenas, quand il a une fois pris sa course.’ For the adage, see the last verse of Virgil’s first didactic poem on agriculture in the Georgics (1.514): ‘neque audit currus habenas’. 25 La Peyrère says so in two letters to Philibert de La Mare, reproduced in Oddos, Isaac de Lapeyrère, 282–302; cited here after Wetsel, Pascal and Disbelief, 148, n. 46, after Popkin, Isaac La Peyrère, 48 and 189, n. 35, and after Leroy, Le dernier voyage, 1983, 57, n. 9. La Peyrère to Philibert de la Mare, 15 June 1660 (Dijon, Bibliothèque municipal, Ms. 1010; there is another manuscript version of this letter in Paris, BN, Ms. Moreau 846, fol. 286, cited in Rivet and Sarrau, Correspondance intégrale, vol. 3, 475, n. 14; I do not know if one of these is an autograph). Radical Philology: Isaac de La Peyrère (1643–1660) 199 preface in his discussion of Chaldean reckoning of time, ‘who counted not by means of years, but by various sums consisting of multiple years’.26 It was only in passing that Saumaise had made mention of such chronologies, which went back far deeper in time than the biblical account.27 Chaldean and Egyptian chronologies, for example, extended much earlier than would be allowed for by the Christian dating of creation. According to these non-biblical sources, the world was at least 30,000 years older than the Bible accounted for.28 Saumaise had pointed out that Egyptian mythology ascribed a reign of unknown length to the god Vulcanus, and subsequently a reign of 600,676 years to the Sun; that an ancient author thought there were thirty dynasties of Egyptian rulers and that the reign of Vulcanus (presumably the Egyptian god Ptah) lasted for 30,000 years (and not ten million and 3,000 years, as Scaliger had it).29 Saumaise never said he agreed with these chronologies, but La Peyrère nevertheless referred to them in 3.6, misunderstanding Saumaise’s critique of Scaliger and taking Scaliger’s miscalculation as Saumaise’s correct calculation: ‘The three myriads [periods of ten thousand years] Saumaise exposed as a thousand times ten thousand plus three thousand [i.e., 10,003,00] years.’30 One of the authors who refuted La Peyrère in 1656, Eusebius Romanus (pseudonym of Philippe Le Prier, d. 1680), noticed that he was far too selective in quoting Saumaise, as if the pre-Adamites could not survive without constant reference, in 3.8–11, to De annis climactericis. Through these explicit references, La Peyrère tried to deceive his readers with the authority of stolen glory.31 As

26 La Peyrère, Systema Theologicum, 3.5, 143: ‘ . . . ut non per annos ea numerarent [Chaldaei], sed per diversas summas ex multis annis constantes’. Cf. Saumaise, De annis climactericis, sig. c5v. 27 Popkin, Isaac La Peyrère, 11–12. 28 ibid., 12. 29 Saumaise, De annis climactericis, praefatio, sig. [C8]r–v: ‘De Aegyptiis videamus. Eandem quoque artem isti non minore temporis longinquitate quam Chaldaei innumerabilibus paene saeculis se consequutos esse gloriabantur. Nam per infinita temporis spatia Deum Vulcanum in Aegypto regnasse contendebant. Post eum eius filium Solem imperium tenuisse per annos sexcenta millia sexcentos septuaginta six. Post eum Σῶς qui Mars est imperavit, deinde Ke qui Saturnus. Vetustissimi [sic] quidam auctor triginta Dynastias Aegyptiorum comprehensa et Vulcani dominatione per annorum μυριάδας τρεῖς durasse scripsit. Sic enim scribendum, non ut Scaliger habet Qui sunt millies decem millia cum tribus millibus annorum.’ I understand this to mean (1,000 x 10,000) + 3,000, yielding a figure of 10,003,000. Although it would have been more attractive to read 1,000 x (10,000 + 3,000), since that would render the less peculiar figure of 13,000,000. The Dutch translation is not particularly helpful in translating the figure as ‘three million and three thousand, that is thirty hundred thousand and three thousand [3,003,000]’ (‘drie millioenen en drie duysten, dat is, dartig hondert duysent en drie duysent Jaren’; 295). 30 La Peyrère, Systema Theologicum, 3.6: ‘Graecorum et Romanorum doctissimus Salmasius, vetustissimi auctoris meminit, qui triginta dynastias Aegyptiorum regum posuit, easque per annorum Myriades tres duravisse scripsit. Myriadas vero illas exposuit, millies decies millia, cum tribus annorum millibus. Sunt qui periisse dicant apud Aegyptios tempora Vulcani Dei, regis sui: quem per infinita seculorum spatia in Aegypto regnavisse contendunt. Solem vero Vulcani filium, imperium Aegypti tenuisse. post patrem suum, per annos sexcenta millia sexcentos septuaginta sex: numero referente, indagatore rerum acerrimo, praefatione ad annos climactericos, Claudio Salmasio.’ 31 Romanus, Animadversiones, 109–10. In Systema Theologicum, 3.2, La Peyrère relied on Saumaise (De annis climactericis, 836), to argue that Eve was created a day later than Adam. In 200 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic noted, Saumaise never agreed with the Chaldean and Egyptian chronologies or with La Peyrère’s idea that the world was created from eternity; that is, ‘from that beginning of which there is no certain knowledge’.32 Quoted still more often in the Systema Theologicum than Saumaise, however, was Joseph Scaliger. Saumaise himself had mentioned Scaliger almost fifty times, but had consistently criticized his erstwhile mentor for misinterpreting all sorts of technicalities in his commentary on Manilius.33 La Peyrère was much more favourably disposed towards (and more haphazard in his reliance on) Scaliger, whose De emendatione temporum he seems to have consulted without mediation of Saumaise.34 In Systema theologicum 3.5, La Peyrère adopted Scaliger’s definition of the word annus (year).35 In 3.7, he relied on Scaliger’s authority in stating that the Chinese reckoned with enormous time cycles. The year 1594 ad would have been the year 880,073 in Chinese reckoning, as La Peyrère inaccurately quoted Scaliger’s numbers.36 In 3.8 he pointed out that, according to Scaliger, 1,948 years had passed between Adam and Abraham. He doubted that this would have been enough time for the Chaldeans to acquire all the knowledge about astronomy, astrology, and magic that they possessed at the time of Abraham.

Systema Theologicum 3.11, La Peyrère took over Saumaise’s interpretation for the word decan, which was Aramaic and Persian for persona (i.e., person, face, or mask). 32 Popkin, Isaac La Peyrère, 52. 33 Saumaise, De annis climactericis, sig. b4r (‘Non enim verisimile est quod ibi posuit Scaliger . . . ’), 81 (‘Scaliger ille vir tantus . . . non tamen vulgarem errorem a se potuit depellere’), 90, 93–4, 131 (‘Nam male Scaliger legit’), 138–9, 165, 187 (‘cuius locum corrupit Scaliger dum corrigere studuit’), 192, 196, 218, 237 (‘Scaliger non intellexit quid essent . . . ’), 246 (‘Scaliger notavit . . . quae sunt falsissima’), 270, 551, 561–2, 567 (‘Scaliger perperam . . . descripsit’), 579, 585, 587, 589, 592 (‘Sed neque Scaliger verum dixerit . . . ’), 617–18 (‘At fallitur Scaliger’), 665, 689, 701, and 792 (‘Scaliger locum non intellexit’). Rare positive notes are found on 266 and 539. More neutral is the tone on 572 and 691. On Scaliger as Saumaise’s mentor, see Van Miert, ‘The French Connection’, and Van Miert, ‘Joseph Scaliger, Claude Saumaise, Isaac Casaubon’. 34 Grafton, ‘Isaac La Peyrère and the Old Testament’, 210, assumes that La Peyrère did not consult Scaliger’s Thesaurus temporum (1606) and the Egyptian dynasty lists given there. 35 La Peyrère, Systema Theologicum, 3.5, 144. 36 ibid., 3.7, 160: ‘Prodigiosa insuper visa est Scaligero Sinarum periodus: Iuxta quam, ait ille, hic annus Christi 1594 (quo emendationem temporum scribebat) est, a conditu rerum octingenties octagies [sic] millesimus septuagesimus tertius.’ See the second edition of 1598: Scaliger, De emendatione temporum, 1598, 19CD: ‘Sed longe illa Sinarum prodigiosior, iuxta quam hic annus Christi 1594 est a conditu rerum octingenties octagies quater millesimus, septingentesimus septuagesimus tertius.’ That makes 884,773 years. This is consistent with the first edition of 1583, where the year 884,762 is given: Scaliger, De emendatione temporum, 1583, 13A. La Peyrère is inaccurate here: he omitted two numbers in the Chinese year. Scaliger in fact spoke of the 884,773th year (see also Grafton, ‘Isaac La Peyrère and the Old Testament’, 210). His castigator, Isaac Vossius, wrote ‘false’ in the margin of 149 of his copy of the Praeadamitae. This verdict appears to refer to the misquoted Chinese year, not to the year 1594 (Derksen, ‘Manuscript Notes’, 277): it must have been clear to Vossius that Scaliger had written this passage four years before it came out in 1598, and not in 1583 (first edition) or 1598. The word ‘octagies’ (eighty times) is translated as ‘eight times’ in the Dutch translation of the Praeadamitae, maybe because the word is usually spelled as ‘octogies’. ‘Eight times’, however, would have been ‘octies’. The Dutch version (La Peyrère, Praeadamiten, 306) confusingly speaks of the 808,073rd year.’ Radical Philology: Isaac de La Peyrère (1643–1660) 201

According to La Peyrère, it required centuries of observations from all sorts of different parts of the world to build up that kind of knowledge about astronomy and astrology.37 With Baconian overtones, he declared: I say ‘various centuries,’ because not all mathematicians in every century could know everything, no matter how excellent they were. Nor could the kind of world- picture be developed as the Chaldeans and Egyptians had, if not through experi- ments and comparisons of observations, collected from every part of the world successively and over a long period of time.38 Was two thousand years insufficient time for the development of a sophisticated terrestrial and celestial cosmological picture? Eusebius Romanus had already been quick to point out that even the Church Fathers thought that the inventors of the arts and sciences were not that old.39 In fact, citing the last paragraph of La Peyrère’s book 3, Romanus notes that, insofar as the ancient peoples had perfect knowledge of the arts and sciences, their knowledge deteriorated rather than increased over the course of centuries. Only a man like La Peyrère himself would need so much time to become learned, he sarcastically added, noting that La Peyrère was forced to take refuge in the writings of others.40 Further on in his book, La Peyrère relies on Scaliger for the establishment of the first Greek Olympiad and for the information that the legendary Assyrian queen Semiramis preceded the fall of Troy by a thousand years.41 In 4.13, La Peyrère rests on Scaliger when arguing that the Egyptians regularly started anew their reckoning of the years.42 However, as with Saumaise, La Peyrère used Scaliger very selectively. Just as Romanus had rightly observed that La Peyrère dropped Saumaise’s name primarily to cloak himself in the latter’s authority rather than for philologically sound reasons, one could conclude that La Peyrère did the same in the case of Scaliger. As scholars, Scaliger and Saumaise were out of La Peyrère’s league.43 But La Peyrère recognized that there was a Scaligerian genealogy to his radical biblical philology, and that Saumaise had helped develop that type of philology. He made creative use of the existing body of humanist scholarship.44

7.3. LA PEYRÈRE’S BIBLICAL PHILOLOGY

La Peyrère could not be ignored by his contemporaries. His book was more accessible than the intimidating Scaligerian tomes and the volumes of crushing

37 See also Popkin, Isaac La Peyrère, 48. 38 La Peyrère, Systema Theologicum, 3.8, 164. 39 Romanus, Animadversiones, 103. 40 ibid., 109. 41 La Peyrère, Systema Theologicum, 4.9, 232 and 233. 42 ibid., 4.13, 249. 43 Grafton, ‘Isaac La Peyrère and the Old Testament’, 210–11. 44 This foreshadows ‘the creative reception of humanist scholarship as central to late seventeenth- century freethought’, as Levitin, ‘From Sacred History to the History of Religion’, 1139, puts it. 202 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

Salmasian erudition, and his radicalism showed all the more clearly. And despite his historical ignorance, his linguistic limitations, and his millennial prejudices, La Peyrère did a decent job in many respects. As Anthony Grafton has pointed out, his treatment of the Pentateuch was at least as profound as that of Hobbes.45 First of all, La Peyrère denied the Mosaic authorship of the Pentateuch. There was no other way to account for the description of Moses’s death in Deuteronomy 34:5–12. There were other problematic passages in the Old Testament as well, all of which would continuously return in subsequent discussions of the authorship of the Pentateuch. The arguments were not always new: the problem of Moses describing his own death had been discussed by medieval Jewish commentators. It was diffused after 1488, when a commentary was printed on the Pentateuch by Abraham Ibn Ezra, who suggested that only the last twelve verses of Deuteronomy (i.e., chapter 34) were not by Moses. Thomas Hobbes noticed the problem in Leviathan, which was published in 1651.46 Not long after, Spinoza may have come up with the same argument independently (without publishing it at that moment). Noel Malcolm has listed the standard arguments against Mosaic authorship, and has charted who used them and when, to see whether an inter-textual trail could be established.47 The biblical critics involved seldom refer to one another explicitly, and hardly ever implicitly. This renders it impossible to trace the arguments from one book to another and to uncover ‘influence’ among authors. The situation is made more complicated still because the dates when works were published do not necessarily coincide in time with the development of the authors’ ideas. What seems clear, though, is that in the late 1640s and early 1650s the time was ripe for some of these arguments to be made explicit by different people in France, the Dutch Republic, and England. Second, La Peyrère cast doubt on the originality of other books in the Hebrew Bible, pointing out that Joshua, Chronicles, and Kings were based on books that had not survived. Textual transmission had already been layered in the sixth century bc. Furthermore, La Peyrère insisted that the biblical text had been unintention- ally corrupted by fallible human beings in postbiblical times. He suggested that accretions and errors by copyists needed to be separated from the original text, a programme that would be implemented by Richard Simon. Here, too, La Peyrère did not come up with new arguments: since the times of Valla and Erasmus, Catholic and Protestant scholars alike had studied not only Hebrew and Greek manuscripts of the Bible, but also Aramaic, Arabic, and Coptic versions, and numerous variants had been listed, as was demonstrated by the

45 Grafton, ‘Isaac La Peyrère and the Old Testament’, 211, who compares La Peyrère with Noël Journet. 46 Popkin, Isaac La Peyrère, 48–9. 47 Malcolm, Aspects of Hobbes, 412. Radical Philology: Isaac de La Peyrère (1643–1660) 203

Antwerp Polyglot and not least by the recently published Critica sacra (1650) of Louis Cappel.48 In the fourth place, La Peyrère appealed to ‘reason’ (ratio) in his assessment of miracles described in the Bible. He attempted to save their credibility by localiz- ing them as much as possible. This may not always have been convincing. How the sun could stand still only above Joshua’s head while taking its usual course over the rest of the world (his solution to the familiar conundrum of the sun standing still above Joshua’s head for a full day at Joshua 10:12–13) was an obvious problem, which La Peyrère’s refuters did not fail to confront him with. A similar method of localization was at work in La Peyrère’s idea that the Flood had occurred only in Palestine, and not worldwide. It was impossible that all the nations, from the Chinese to the Indians, could have descended from the seven sole survivors of the Flood. Flood stories were universal, yes, but that did not mean that they all spoke of the same event. The discussion about the universality of the Flood prompted a string of responses, in which supporters of a localized flood such as Isaac Vossius, and opponents such as Matthew Hale and Edward Stillingfleet, and many others in their wake, contributed much to the early development of what only much later became known as geognosy or geology.49 Another radical idea in the Praeadamitae was the doctrine of the eternity of the world. There were two types of time, La Peyrère argued: the absolutely eternal time from before the creation, and the virtually eternal time, which had passed since Creation. The world was created at a certain moment, but this had occurred in times incalculable, practically infinite from our point of view.50 He founded this distinction between the two types of eternity on the words of Paul himself, who spoke of ‘ante tempora aeterna’ (‘before the eternal times’; i.e., the eternity before creation; 2 Timothy 1:9 and Titus 1:2) and ‘a seculis et tempori- bus aeternis’: from the eternal ages and times, or since the eternal times (Colossians 1:26 and Ephesians 3:9).51 By first drawing a theoretical distinction between two types of time, and subsequently practically conflating them, La Peyrère argued for the world’s eternity. Finally, La Peyrère made use of rational arguments by his close reading of Romans 5:12–14: 5:12 Wherefore, as by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned: 5:13 (For until the law sin was in the world: but sin is not imputed when there is no law. 5:14 Nevertheless death reigned from Adam to Moses, even over them that had not sinned after the simili- tude of Adam’s transgression, who is the figure of him that was to come.52

48 Popkin, Isaac La Peyrère, 49–50. 49 ibid., 51–2. 50 La Peyrère, Systema theologicum, 4.10. 51 La Peyrère had no Greek, but I have not been able to establish which Latin translation he used (not the Vulgate or the Zurich Bible, nor the translations of Erasmus, Sebastian Castellio, Beza, or Tremellius, or Grotius’s paraphrases in his Annotationes). 52 As throughout this book, the English translation cited here is the King James Version; the closing parenthesis occurs at the end of verse 17. 204 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

As in the case of his later thoughts on the eternity of worldly time, La Peyrère’s reasoning is grounded solely in the biblical text. La Peyrère thought that the law mentioned in the phrase ‘sin in the world before the law’ referred to the law not of Moses but of Adam. It was with Adam, not with Moses, that the imputation of sin was established. Through Adam, sin entered into the world. But if the Apostle spoke of a time ‘until the law’ when sin was in the world, he must refer to a time before Adam when there were people who sinned, even if they were not punished for their sins (for lack of a law). We have identified six ways in which La Peyrère engaged with the text of the Bible. It should be kept in mind that his textual criticism was framed by a larger programme: not the pre-Adamite past, but the postbiblical future. The defi- ciency of the biblical text explained for him why not every aspect of human history was found in it. The pre-Adamites, obviously, had been obliterated in the biblical account. In the end, La Peyrère lacked the professional training that ‘would have shown why the text really made sense even where it did not seem to’.53 It was this inferiority that infuriated more highly skilled scholars, theologians and philologists alike. Critical biblical philology as such was not dismissed by the philologists, as long as it was robust philology. What caused outrage as well were the peculiar conclusions La Peyrère drew from his sloppy criticism. The logical way of refuting La Peyrère would therefore be to expose the shortcomings of his methods in order to cripple the radical conclusions he founded on them. As long as his book had not been published, such a refutation was not urgent. But an already published book such as Du Rappel des Iuifs was open to public criticism. That it was refuted at Leiden University in 1653 points out that La Peyrère’s credit was by then running out.

7.4. FIRST RESPONSES TO DU RAPPEL DES IUIFS

La Peyrère’s philosemitism and his millennial ideas did not pass unnoticed in the Dutch Republic, but responses to it failed to rival the fury of the rejoinders his book on the pre-Adamites would provoke in 1655. Before all hell broke loose, there were some public responses to his Du Rappel des Iuifs. These were voiced in disputations. These merit attention not only because they were the first refutations to appear and because they have never been mentioned in the historiography of the reception of La Peyrère’s work, but because they show that La Peyrère had forced his adversaries to put biblical philology on the academic curriculum. Whereas previously it had only been part of the teaching of biblical Greek in the Arts’ Faculty for the benefit of students of theology, it now

53 Grafton, ‘Isaac La Peyrère and the Old Testament’, 211. Radical Philology: Isaac de La Peyrère (1643–1660) 205 made its entrance in the Faculty of Theology. Moreover, it did so not as a language course, but as part of a high-level scholarly discussion. In 1653, the Leiden professor of theology Jacobus Revius, in a disputation On the Conversion of the Jews (the third in a series on the subject), responded to the opinion of a certain anonymous Frenchman, who dares to tell (in book 2 of his Revocation of the Jews) from what nation the future earthly king of the converted Jews will come. He says it will be the King of France, for reasons we will examine below.54 Revius demolished La Peyrère’s claims that the Bible refers to France as the setting for the revocation of the Jews. Part of his attack concerns La Peyrère’s textual criticism, for example where La Peyrère touched upon Psalm 45, a wed- ding hymn for a king. La Peyrère identified this king as the king of France, on the basis of a reference to lilies in the caption above the psalm and an alleged reference to the ‘oil of lilies’ in verse 8. In 45:8 it reads, ‘therefore God, thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows’. Here, La Peyrère shemen shushan: ‘the oil of lilies’) instead of) שםן שושן had conjectured to read :(’shemen sason: ‘the oil of gladness) שםן ששון therefore God, thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of lilies above thy fellows. ‘This’, Revius retaliated, ‘is a cabbalistic argument, based on the transposition of two letters (the shin and the vaw) and thus not taken from Scripture, but from the corruption of Scripture.’ Revius went on to notice that Paul had referred to this expression in Hebrews 1:9 and had translated it from the Hebrew into Greek as ἔλαιον ἀγαλλιάσεως, i.e., oil of gladness.55 La Peyrère’s second argument had been based on the psalm’s superscription ‘In favour of the lilies’. Revius countered that this had nothing to do with France. The same formula appears above Psalm 69 and Psalm 80 as well, and nothing was said of any lilies or gladness in either of those psalms, let alone a king or the king of France. Revius came up with an alternative explanation for the superscription of Psalm 45. The Hebrew word for lily shares its root with the word for the number six,

54 Revius, Disputationes theologicae, disputation no. 20: Revius (praeses) and Gisbertus Schulenburch (resp.), Disputationum theologicarum miscellanearum vigesima De conversione Iudaeorum, thesis I: ‘Iis quae iam tractata sunt de conversione Iudaeorum, non abs re erit subnec- tere opinionem Galli cuiusdam anonymi, qui tractatus sui de revocatione Iudaeorum lib. 2 definire audet e qua gente futurus sit rex temporalis Iudaeorum conversorum; asserit autem eum fore Regem Galliae, rationes quas affert examinabimus.’ I came across this source via De Bruijn, Jacob Revius, 591, n. 170 (who mentions that this disputation was printed in 1657 and entitled De revocatione Iudaeorum). 55 Revius, Disputationes theologicae miscellaneaea, disputation no. 20, thesis VII: ‘Item, Psal. Resp. 1. Hoc שםן שושן legendum שםן ששון dicitur Deus unxisse regem suum oleo lilii, nam pro 45.8 argumentum est cabalisticum, desumtum ex transpositione literarum, itaque non e scriptura petitur, sed ex eius corruptela. 2. repugnat Apostolo, qui Heb. 1.9 verba textus vertit per ἔλαιον ἀγαλλιάσεως, oleum laetitae.’ 206 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic because a lily has six petals. Here the psalmist seems to refer to an instrument with six strings.56 This note Revius copied out verbatim from the Dutch marginal annotation in the States’ Translation at Psalm 45.1 (leaving out the second half of that note, which alternatively suggests it indicates a familiar melody): To Schoschannim] This Hebrew word is also used in the titles of Palms 69 and 80, and likewise in the title of no. 60, meaning lilies, and named thus (as some feel) because they have six leaves. But what is meant hereby is not sure. Some people take it for a musical instrument with six strings, on which this Psalm ought to be played. Others think it refers to a song, popular at the time, starting with this word, and on the melody of which it should be played and sung.57 Revius’s point is clear enough: if the lilies refer to a musical instrument, they do not refer to the emblem of France. La Peyrère himself had noted the parallel with Hebrews 1:9, but claimed that Paul had mistakenly read sasun (‘gladness’) instead of shushan (‘oil’); that is, Paul had switched the vowels. (La Peyrère says nothing of the difference between the consonants shin and sin, which he treats as if they were interchangeable.) But Revius contested that the vowel switch would have entailed a switch not merely of vocalization points but of actual Hebrew letters: the vaw (u) (which was written out in full in the unvocalized text) with the shin. Paul would never have transposed the letters in such a way, and thus La Peyrère was wrong in dismissing the parallel in Hebrews 1:9.58 This meant, concluded Revius, that Paul spoke of oil of gladness and not of oil of lilies. Revius was, of course, correct in his reasoning. But to prove his point he had to engage in textual criticism during a theological disputation defended in public, and he had to publicly explain heterodox arguments before being able to refute them. It is hard to believe that every single member of the audience would have been familiar with La Peyrère’s treatise. Typically, the public consisted of professors and students, but the disputation hall was open to ministers, magistrates, travellers, and family members of responding students as well.59 Paradoxically, it appears that Revius helped spread heterodox arguments by giving them a public airing before refuting them.60 Revius seems have set a trend, for the first published refutation of Peyrère’s even more scandalous Praeadamitae also appeared in a disputation.

56 ibid., ‘[Thesis] VIII: Atqui, inquit, id verum esse patet ex eo quod psalmus inscriptus sit: In etiam reperitur Psal. 69 et 80, ubi nihil est de rege ﬠﬥ ששנים favorem liliorum. Res.: inscriptio communiter significet lilium. V[ide] Cant[icum canticorum] 2:2, quia sex שושן Galliae. Porro licet .sex: hic tamen fidetur significare instrumentum sex chordarum. ut 1 שש folia habet, est enim a ’.instrumenta trium chordarum שﬥישים ,Sam. 18:5 57 States’ Translation, fol. 261v, ad 45.1. 58 Revius, Disputationes theologicae miscellaneaea, disputation no. 20. 59 See Van Miert, Humanism in an Age of Science, 157–8. 60 Malcolm, Aspects of Hobbes, 388, notes that ‘the defenders of orthodox belief not only fixed, so to speak, the canon of unorthodoxy; they also gave the claims of those three writers a much wider circulation than they would otherwise have received’. Radical Philology: Isaac de La Peyrère (1643–1660) 207

7.5. FIRST RESPONSES TO THE PRAEADAMITAE

As Richard Popkin has shown, the Praeadamitae was instantly infamous and became one of the most ardently refuted books in history. The first dismissal came from Grotius in 1643, discussed above, although he had responded only to the embryonic manuscript version of La Peyrère’s book and had offered more of a scoff than a ‘refutation’. Popkin lists twelve responses from 1656, many more from later periods, and supposes that his list is far from exhaust- ive.61 Indeed, the earliest refutation to have appeared in print may be a passage in a Leiden disputation of 15 July 1655, defended under the presidency of Johannes Hoornbeek, professor of theology at Leiden University. Hoornbeek had taken the chair in theology only two years earlier, succeeding the orthodox Jacobus Trigland. He was surrounded by a new generation of theologians: the anti-Remonstrant but Cartesian theologian Abraham Heidanus (appointed in 1648) and the soon-to-be-(in)famous Johannes Coccejus (appointed in 1650). It did not take long for the orthodox Hoornbeek to clash with his colleagues over ideas.62 With La Peyrère, however, he was perhaps relieved that he could point his guns at someone from outside for a change. He had his student Cornelius Canter defend theses about original sin: All too foolish was a new and recent author, who laid the foundation of the ver- tiginous opinion of the pre-Adamites, learning that there were many other people before Adam in this world, and that Adam was not the first of men, nor of sinners. In the preface to his Theological system based on the hypothesis of pre-Adamites, the author, a Frenchman, confesses that ‘since twenty years more or less he had been handling and contemplating’ the verses of Romans 5:12–14. As if it is not enough to have posited and fostered an insane opinion, he thought that theology, too, needed to be bent in that direction and to be reshaped into other systems and forms on the basis of certain badly conceptualised ideas.63 Hoornbeek not only ridiculed the arguments of La Peyrère (whom he never mentioned by name), but also associated him with Cartesianism through a number of obvious quotations from the radical French philosopher. To

61 Grafton, ‘Isaac La Peyrère and the Old Testament’, 206, speaks of nineteen refutations in 1656. 62 Otterspeer, Groepsportret, 380. 63 Hoornbeek and Canter, De peccato originali, sig. T1r–v, thesis X: ‘Nimium ineptus fuit novus nuperusque Scriptor, qui in illo ad Rom. loco, ubi de peccato originis disserit Apostolus, funda- mentum constituit vertiginosae opinionis de Prae-Adamitis, docens multos alios ante Adamum, hoc in mundo, fuisse homines, neque Adamum fuisse aut hominum, aut peccatorum primum. Quos quidem versus Rom. V. 12.13.14. pro sententia sua stabilienda viginti plus minus annis et mente et manibus versasse se scribit Auctor, Gallus, in Prooemio Systematis theologici ex Prae-Adamitarum hypothesi. Quasi non satis sit malesanam opinionem posuisse, et fovisse, nisi ad eam etiam flectatur theologia nostra et ex quibusvis maleferiatis conceptibus illa in alia mox recudatur systemata et formas.’ The quotation is from the preface of La Peyrère, Systema theologicum ex Praeadamitarum hypothesi: ‘incidi in versus duodecimum, decimum tertium et decimum quartum, c. 5 Epist. D. Pauli ad Romanos, quos abhinc viginti plus minus annis, et mente et manibus verso.’ 208 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

Hoornbeek, ‘it was apparent how wrong the rule is that one decides that everything is true of which you have a very clear and distinct conception’. 64 The direct association of La Peyrère with Descartes could have been expected from a man like Hoornbeek, a Voetian who wrote several books against heresies, in particular Socinianism, and who took the anti-Cartesian stand in the Cartesian war at Leiden University.65 The association of opponents with Cartesianism was an often-employed strategy, but La Peyrère nowhere refers to Descartes or his principle of clear and distinct ideas. As we have seen, La Peyrère had argued that there had been sinners before Adam, on the basis of Romans 5:13: ‘For until the law sin was in the world: but sin is not imputed when there is no law.’ Hoornbeek explains that from this verse La Peyrère concluded that before the law, i.e., before Adam, there was sin. So there also had to be people who had sinned: the pre-Adamites. Adam was the first man to be subject to law and became mortal only because he broke the law. The sin of the pre-Adamites against nature La Peyrère called a ‘natural’ sin, and their deaths ‘natural’ deaths. But Adam’s sin was ‘legal’ and so was his death.66 According to Hoornbeek, La Peyrère had ‘postulated’ (and had not argued) three misguided points. First, La Peyrère was wrong in stating that Paul in Romans 5:13 spoke of the law of Adam. As if until Adam there was the pre-Adamites’ sin in the world! Of course, Paul spoke of the law of Moses, not the law of Adam, and indeed there was natural sin in the world before Moses.67 Second, La Peyrère had said that, if there was a time after which sin was reckoned with, there must have been a time when sin had existed but was not punished. But Hoornbeek objects that this is not necessarily true: there is no need to link the words ‘sin was not reckoned with’ with any law. One should not interpret the words ‘not reckoned with’ in an absolute sense: the absence of law (before Moses) did not mean that a mortal sin was not somehow reckoned with by the people before the coming of God’s law, but only that reckoning did not occur according to an absolute law.68 Third, as Hoornbeek goes on (actually repeating his first argument), Romans 5:13 speaks clearly of the time from Adam to Moses, not of the time before Adam. This would still hold if one were to translate the biblical Greek differently; that is, if one would interpret the aorist participle τοὺς μὴ ἁμαρτήσαντας (‘those not having sinned’) as the pluperfect ‘thōse who had not sinned’ instead of the perfect ‘those who have not sinned’. Of course, Hoornbeek explains, Paul speaks here of children, who have not wilfully and actually sinned.69 Finally, the biblical narrative is quite clear that Adam was created on the sixth day, and no one

64 Hoornbeek and Canter, De peccato originali, sig. T1v, thesis X: ‘Ex quo . . . quam fallax regula sit, apparet, si omne id quod valde dilucide et distincte concipis, id eo verum esse statuas.’ They cite the Latin translation of 1644 practically verbatim: see Descartes, Specimina, 126, ll. 7–10. 65 Van Itterzon, ‘Hoornbeek’. 66 Hoornbeek and Canter, De peccato originali, sig. T1v, thesis XI. 67 ibid., sig. T1v, thesis XII. 68 ibid., sigs T1v–T2r, thesis II. 69 ibid., sigs T1v–T2r, thesis II. Radical Philology: Isaac de La Peyrère (1643–1660) 209 else has ever interpreted this to mean anything other than that Adam was the first created man and the first sinner, Hoornbeek asserts, listing several passages in the New Testament where Adam is called ‘the first man’. Nowhere in the Bible is made any mention of pre-Adamites. This type ofargumentum e silentio was also employed by Isaac Vossius, as we will see in chapter 8. If the pre-Adamites did sin and were mortal, then by whom were they saved: by Christ, or by someone else? Hoornbeek concludes: On first inspection of that book, these are the things I thought worth to remark with regard to the absurd hypothesis. I will easily find more if I would have wanted to read the whole book, or criticize these, too, as they deserve. From the claw you may judge the lion. And this is said on the occasion of the passage in Paul, on which the author hinges completely.70 Half a year later, Hoornbeek let another student (Johannes Verscheepker) defend theses ‘On the Law of God’. Here, the pre-Adamites make their appearance once more. This time Hoornbeek related La Peyrère’s ideas not to Cartesianism but to Manichaean theories of the origin of mankind. According to the third-century heresy of Mani, Adam and Eve were born from princes of smoke, who had first cannibalized the offspring of their friends. Hence the origin of the pre-Adamites—so much for the not-so-recent Dream of a nobleman from Aquitaine, or of La Peyrère, an author indicated by Claude Sarrau in a letter to Saumaise from 1643, where he writes on p. 74: ‘Today . . . ’.71 At this point Hoornbeek inserted part of the letter from 12 November, already cited.72 In the disputation of December 1655, too, Hoornbeek alluded to Grotius’s well-known scoff inDe origine, where Grotius stated that La Peyrère’s scandalous hypothesis posed a serious danger. Hoornbeek also refers to the public ban on

70 ibid., sigs T1v–T2r: ‘Haec nobis in prima libri illius inspectione ad ineptam hypothesim annotare visum, plura facile reperturis si vel totum perlegere luberet, aut etiam illa pro merito exagi- tare. Ἐξ ὀνύχος λέοντα. Atque illa, occasione loci Paulini, quo se totum fundat Scriptor ille, dicta.’ For the proverb, see Erasmus, Adagia, no. 835 (‘Leonem ex unguibus aestimare’). 71 Hoornbeek and Verscheepker, De lege Dei, sig. Z2v, thesis II: ‘Inde natos Adamum et Eva. En originem Prae-Adamitarum. Adeo id non nuperum demum Nobilis Aquitani somnium, sive Peyrerii, quem auctorem indicat Cl. Sarravius ad Salmasium, epistola, a MDCXLIII ubi haec pag. 74 “convenit me hodie . . . ”.’ The Latin has ‘non nuperum demum somnium’, where ‘non nuper’ and ‘demum’ contradict each other. Perhaps Hoornbeek meant that the book, which had only (demum) come out that year in 1655, had already (non nuper) been conceived in 1643. 72 See above, section 7.1, ‘Isaac de La Peyrère and the Salmasian Network’, n. 14. This was not the first time Hoornbeek cited a recently published letter in a disputation: he did so five years earlier, quoting—with apparent approval—Grotius’s positive impression of the Catholic dissident Paolo Sarpi in Grotius’s posthumously published Epistolae ad Gallos: Hoornbeek and Sloot, De praedestinatione, sig. N5r. He also quotes a letter from Sarpi to Daniel Heinsius (sig. N5r). Such quotations point out how printed letters could immediately enter the public debate as near- contemporary testimonia. The Amsterdam professor of philosophy Arnold Senguerdius, in a philosophical disputation, quoted an eyewitness account of the impact of a meteor from a letter from Andreas Colvius; see Van Miert, Humanism in an Age of Science, 154 and 265. 210 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic the book, issued by the Court of Holland on 26 November 1655, less than a month before the defence of the disputation, according to which it was an ‘impious, scandalous work, meant to seduce people’.73 Indeed, this is precisely what the Court of Holland and Zeeland said in their broadsheet which forbade the printing, reprinting, selling, translation, distribution, or publication of the work, and which stipulated that all printers and booksellers must hand over their copies to the local authorities.74 If the Praeadamitae was available to Hoornbeek in the first half of July 1655, then the ban on the book took almost five months to be issued. Incredibly, the annual Synod of South-Holland, convening in the city of Woerden from 6 to 19 July, was apparently so absorbed by its customary (and fruitless) protests against widespread popish superstitions, against Socinian Trojan horses among the Remonstrants and Mennonites, against the abominable habit of taking the name of the Lord in vain, and was so preoccupied by the embarrassingly large number of typographical errors in the States’ Translation, that it completely ignored the publication of the pre-Adamite book, even though four days before the synod’s closure, Hoornbeek had his first student protest against it in the public disputation of 15 July, discussed above.75 But the deputies of the synod quickly made up for this omission after returning home. A year later, when the synod convened in Dordrecht, the deputies reported how they had handed over excerpts from the book to the Court of Holland, requesting it ‘to oppose with Christian vigour such filth’. The court had acted accordingly, and the States General had agreed, much to the satisfaction of the synod.76 Five weeks after the issuing of the ban, then, Hoornbeek, who had previously tried to associate La Peyrère with Descartes, now tarnished him with the heresy of the Manicheans. ‘Already the Manicheans counted this hypothesis among their delusions.’77 In both cases, the association was entirely unwarranted. La Peyrère had nothing to do either with Descartes’s clear and distinct ideas or with the Manichaean mythology of the different stages of world’s creation. The parallels that Hoornbeek draws between Mani and La Peyrère are in fact quite weak. The disputations contained the earliest refutations of the pre-Adamites to appear in print. But the responses of readers are visible in more than just these printed sources. They also appear in annotations in copies of the Praeadamitae. Perhaps the most significant surviving copy with annotations is the book owned by no less than Isaac Vossius, who soon hijacked the discussion of the

73 Hoornbeek and Verscheepker, De lege Dei, sig. Z2v, thesis II: ‘Parum est, “somnium” dicere, quod Grotius, atque is addidit “magnum” inde ”periculum” pietati: ”impium, scandalosum, et ad seducendum homines natum” Curia Provincialis Hollandiae nuper judicavit, publico Decreto a MDCLV. d. xxvi Novembr.’ 74 Knuttel, The Early Modern Pamphlets, no. 7662: ‘schandaleus, Godtloos, ende tenderende omme de Ingesetenen van desen Staet ende allen anderen van de Christelijcke Religie af te leyden’. 75 Knuttel, Acta, vol. 3, 425–84. 76 ibid., 493–4 (18 July–4 August 1656), article 10: ‘om sulcke vuiligheden met Christlicke vigeur tegen te gaen’. 77 Hoornbeek and Verscheepker, De lege Dei, sig. Z2v, thesis II: ‘Sed jam olim illud inter deliria sua Manichaei habuerunt.’ Radical Philology: Isaac de La Peyrère (1643–1660) 211 pre-Adamites and steered it towards a polemic on the chronology of mankind and the true age of the world.

7.6. CONCLUSIONS

Richard Popkin has provided a long list of independent treatises refuting La Peyrère’s book on the pre-Adamites, and he has also discussed some of La Peyrère’s responses to the refutations. Such a discussion is beyond the scope of the present study. But it is significant that La Peyrère was singularly successful in keeping his arguments afloat, even after he had renounced all his radical ideas. In 1656, while imprisoned in Brussels, he was offered the possibility of con- verting to Catholicism and going to Rome to apologize to the pope. La Peyrère assented. His conversion to Catholicism was formally a surrender: the pope forced him to renounce all his previous opinions, and La Peyrère made no secret that his theory was unsound for Catholics, as Rome was the ultimate judge in biblical matters, not the individual reader.78 Interestingly, his conversion to Catholicism hardly played a role in the refutations of his pre-Adamite hypothesis. The refutations were directed at his hypothesis, not at his newly adopted confessional position. La Peyrère himself, however, argued that no proper Calvinist had any excuse to resist the force of the arguments of the pre-Adamite theory. While explaining and defending the soundness of his arguments, La Peyrère consistently and emphatically subjected himself to the authority of the pope, who condemned the theory. Of course there is a huge logical inconsistency here: the explanation of his former position is followed by the non sequitur that it is misguided because the pope says so (and not because the hypothesis itself is inconsistent or otherwise flawed). The same kind of situation can be found in the cases of earlier Catholic thinkers who went against established doctrine. Pietro Pomponazzi, for example, famously argued that reason could not prove the immortality of the soul, but because of his emphatic profession of adherence to the doctrine of the Catholic Church, he was left in peace. Erasmus doubted the Pauline authorship of the Epistle to the Hebrews, but he confessed, in conclusion, ‘If the Church certainly defines the work to be by Paul, my mind is freely captive in submission to faith.’79 History abounds with examples of such splits in persona into, on the one hand, the role of an author (professing publicly his adherence to the Church), and on the other the private persona of the Christian believer. The strategy is conditioned by the idea of separate private and public spheres. Distinguishing between these two spheres is useful in La Peyrère’s

78 Popkin, Isaac La Peyrère, 14–16. 79 Cited in Martin, ‘Martin Luther’s Erasmus’, 75, which also refers to the example of Pomponazzi. See also Pine, Pietro Pomponazzi, 123. 212 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic case: as soon as he started to go public, he was blackballed. He then turned the tables on himself, publicly professing his subjection to Rome and in the meantime explaining why, as a private scholar, he had come to radical conclusions. In a treatment of the tension felt by humanist scholars between Christian theology and the imitation of pagan antiquity, Martin Mulsow treats various other examples of the double persona, mentioning not only Pomponazzi but also Girolamo Benivieni, François de La Mothe Le Vayer, and the heterodox eighteenth-century thinker Theodor Ludwig Lau, who was inspired by Samuel von Pufendorf’s idea of multiple personae morales and by Christian Thomasius. In England, there were discussions about the difference between the private opinion of the playwright and the public opinions expressed by his characters. The philosopher Shaftesbury argued that an author depersonalized himself once he started to publish.80 This ‘idea of double truth’ was at work in a less personal way as well: namely, in the disciplinary separation, defended in the thirteenth century by Parisian Averroists, between philosophy and theology.81 It was no accident that precisely this separation was a hotly debated topic at the universities of Utrecht and Leiden during the Cartesian Wars of the 1640s and 1650s. Mulsow treats his examples as ever so many symptoms of ‘the crisis of modern pluralization, that is, of the erupting diversity of traditions, positions and worldviews among which to choose’.82 In the history of biblical philology, the paradox was manifest in the Antwerp Polyglot: Theodor Dunkelgrün has drawn attention to what he called the ‘multiplicity of Scripture’: the fact that the Antwerp Polyglot clearly evidenced the textual discrepancies in the different traditions of the Bible, causing tensions between philology and theology or between history and tradition.83 For a long time it had been possible to keep philology and theology apart, but in the two decades preceding the Tractatus theologico-politicus of 1670, the same thing happened to philology that happened to the study of nature: theologians and philosophers who disagreed with orthodox theology and orthodox philosophy held philology up to orthodox thinking, not as a handmaiden but as a measuring stick. La Peyrère pushed biblical philology as a method to the centre of public awareness, precisely because of the radical nature of the ideas he sustained with the help of critical, linguistic, and historical tools. He had learned to use these tools from conversations with Saumaise, but he also relied directly on Scaliger’s chronological work. Besides, he took issue with Scaliger’s student Grotius about geographical matters. La Peyrère was thus linked to the Scaliger school in more than one way. The same applies to the man who quickly became his best-known opponent: Isaac Vossius.

80 Mulsow, ‘The Libertine’s Two Bodies’, 343. 81 ibid., 339–40. 82 ibid., 346. 83 See Dunkelgrün, ‘The Multiplicity of Scripture’. 8

On the Eve of Spinoza: The Rise of Biblical Philology (1650–1670)

8.1. THE STATUS OF THE MASORETIC TEXT

In the two decades preceding the publication of the Tractatus theologico-politicus in 1670, the Dutch Republic was host to an enormous outpouring of pamphlets and treatises on biblical philology and antiquarianism. In particular, what attracted attention was the matter of the world’s true age. For calculating the age of the world, scholars turned to the Old Testament, and in particular to the genealogies of the patriarchs. Due to the discrepancies between the Hebrew Masoretic text and the Septuagint with regard to the ages at which the patriarchs begat their offspring, and the confusion of the precise durations of the reigns of kings within the Books of Kings, the problems quickly piled up. Attention to the age of the world was also noticeable in neighbouring countries. Louis Cappel’s Chronologia sacra of 1650 resolved to ‘research the definite number of years of the world with painstaking care in single divisions and tables and demonstrate that age openly and solidly as best as I can, following unmistakeable criteria on the basis of God’s word alone’.1 Cappel concluded that the Hebrew text ought to be the standard for the Old Testament and that the Samaritan and Septuagint versions had been (deliberately) corrupted.2 The authoritative chronologist James Ussher agreed with him in his study on the Greek Septuagint, published likewise in 1655. And 1655 was precisely the time when Brian Walton was busy editing the most complete of all polyglot Bibles: the London Polyglot (which according to the title page appeared in 1657, but was printed 1653–1658).3 Walton concluded that even in the time of Josephus, the Hebrew codices had varied. He preferred the chronology as evinced by the

1 Cappel, Chronologia sacra, ‘Praefatio’ (sig. a iijr–v): ‘Verum praeterea hoc mihi fuit praecipue propositum, certe nempe et definitum annorum mundi numerum in singulis classibus et tabulis sedulo indagare, ac pro virili indubitatis κριτηρίοις ex solo Dei verbo aperte et solide demonstrare.’ 2 Grafton, ‘Isaac Vossius, Chronologer’, 59. 3 Schenker, ‘The Polyglot Bibles’, 781; Miller, ‘The “Antiquarianization” of Biblical Scholarship’, 467. 214 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

Septuagint, but admitted that no firm conclusions could be drawn with certainty and that the question remained open for further research.4

8.2. TEXTUAL CRITICISM AND ANTIQUARIANISM

In the United Provinces, the rise of chronology was part of a growing interest in the textual criticism, linguistic analysis, and historical contextualization of the Bible. For textual criticism, take, for example, the work of the Remonstrant scholar Estienne de Courcelles. Courcelles thought that the instability of the text of the New Testament needed to be openly acknowledged and that the authority to choose readings should be delegated to the individual reader. In 1658, he presented a critical edition of the Greek New Testament. Courcelles expounded his sources and his editorial methods in his preface. Almost in passing, he defends his critical apparatus as giving ‘each intelligent person a free choice’ (‘ut unicuique intelligenti libera relinquatur voluntas’). By the use of the term unicuique, Courcelles disregarded theological authority, making the interpretation of the biblical text a personal matter. For some of the variants were no trifles: The addition or omission or interchange of Greek articles and particles such as dè, kaì, and gàr and the like may appear petty things. But not in every place are they so small that they should be ignored. Because sometimes a very useful meaning depends on them; or they contain a special stylistic elegance or emphasis, only visible for those steeped in the Greek language but which the ignorant disregard or consider trifles, because they have no understanding of it.5 Courcelles squarely places his edition in a philological tradition of biblical editions, beginning with Erasmus’s edition (1516) and extending through the editions of Aldus Manutius (1517), the Complutensian Polyglot (published in 1522, although it had been typeset and printed in 1515), Wolfius Cephalaeus (1524), Simon Colinaeus (1534), and Robertus Stephanus (1550), to the Antwerp Polyglot (he gives ‘1571’ as publication date), and finally the Leiden Elzevir edition (the only edition for which Courcelles does not specify a year of publication). He claimed that he took all of these into account, as well as a number of manuscripts. Not only did he collate his sources (as previous editors had also done, in a firmly established tradition of classical scholarship), but he also stressed the importance of providing the reader with variant readings. The

4 Grafton, ‘Isaac Vossius, Chronologer’, 61–2. 5 Courcelles, Novum Testamentum, sig. *4r: ‘Exigua [sic] res esse videntur articuli et particulae δὲ, καὶ, γὰρ, et similes, additae aut omissae, vel inter se permutatae. Sed non sunt ubique adeo exigua ut contemni debeant. Inde enim pendet aliquando valde utilis sensus; vel peculiarem continent sermonis elegantiam aut emphasin, quam soli linguae Graecae periti vident; ignari vero quia non capiunt, ideo respuunt et pro nugis habent.’ On the Eve of Spinoza: The Rise of Biblical Philology (1650–1670) 215 reader should be free to make his own judgement on a given passage. Courcelles acknowledged the opposition against such an open treatment of the text, but he thought that not being forthright about the instability of the text would only harm the Christian cause, even if supplying variant readings could potentially cut off the supply of ammunition to orthodox Calvinism to fight what it deemed heresies. Since this passage so explicitly addresses the alleged desacralizing effect of philology on scriptural authority, which is central to this book, it merits full quotation: I do admit that the standard version [vulgata scriptura] of our copies [i.e., the Textus Receptus] is usually better than the version displayed by variant readings; but not always. Therefore they should be added to the text, so that each intelligent person is given a free choice to select or reject the Scripture he prefers. Moreover, the idea that some people declare this to be harmful, as it can give rise to the suspicion that the Scripture of the New Testament has been so corrupted that one cannot safely trust it, is easily watered down. For, on the contrary, Scripture must be suspected of corruption precisely when all variant readings have been removed, because then we do not know if we have the true one. But if everything has been diligently annotated, we can be sure that the true reading will be found among the variant ones, and that only an accurate examination is needed to distinguish it from the false ones. Of course it would be preferable that no diversity of readings should be found in this book and that everyone who copied it out acted so trustworthily and accur- ately in this work, that all manuscripts would have been identical in every aspect. But since this is not the case and because already since ancient times some places were not read in the same way in all copies (this is testified far and wide by translators), this evil cannot be cured by dissimulation. For no one who has even super- ficially looked at the commentaries of the ancient and modern writers can be unaware of this. But praise be to God that this causes no threat to the Christian faith. Because however large a variety of Scripture may occur in these books, nothing has come of it that favours the errors and mistakes even the slightest bit. In fact, everything in them conspires to the defence of truth and piety. Perhaps a variant reading can eliminate a particular passage with which orthodox people battle against heresies. But those things which really matter for the Christian faith are repeated and ham- mered home at so many places in Scripture that even if we would have to do without one or two of them, this would therefore not jeopardize the truth. Nor should, because of the different readings, the Latin Vulgate be preferred over the Greek text.6

6 ibid., sig. *4r–v. (I translated the printed ‘afferunt’ as ‘asserunt’). Courcelles’s edition was the first of a string of Remonstrant editions and translations of the New Testament: it was reprinted in 1675, 1685, and 1699. In 1680 the Dutch translation of Christian Hartsoeker appeared, which says that the States’ Translation was the best translation available, though it is still flawed in many instances (Hartsoeker, Het Nieuwe Testament, ‘Voorrede’, sig. 3r). In 1703 Le Clerc’s French translation came out. In 1723 his edition of the Greek text of the New Testament with variant readings was published by John Mills. J. J. Wettstein followed with his Greek edition in 1751–1752. 216 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

Courcelles does not specify the sources of the variants he mentions at the bottom of the page.7 In his apparatus, his deest refers to a word following an asterisk in his main text. Often it says desunt in the apparatus, and in such cases it is not clear how many words are missing in the alternative reading. He maintained the pericope of the woman taken in adultery (John 7:53–8:11), remark- ing, ‘verses 7.53 to 8.11 are absent in many old codices, as well as in the Syriac version’.8 At Romans 8:32 he notes variants in the particles. At Romans 9:5 he suggests separating two sentences, because the relative and participle ὁ ὢν con- stitute an uneasy connection. Perhaps, Courcelles conjectures, it should read ὅς ἐστι or ὃς ὢν. The Comma Johanneum he places between square brackets, with a footnote to the effect that the words between these two square brackets are missing in many old Greek and Latin codices, as well as in the Syriac, Arabic, and Ethiopian versions. They are not acknowledged by many Fathers and they are not extant in some old printed editions.9 This comment is not very specific, and it provides no more information than Grotius had. But Courcelles’s edition was an Elzevir duodecimo, to be carried around and read at all times, not a scholarly set of Annotationes. It was meant to replace the Textus Receptus, which it largely followed, and it was reprinted in 1675, 1685, and 1699. In this sense, it was far more practical than the erudite blockbuster of Walton’s London Polyglot, whose scholarly value it was unable to match, and perhaps it exposed more people, at least in the United Provinces, to the instability of the New Testament text.10 It is in 1657 and 1658 that we first come across an entire series of nine theological disputations specifically dedicated to textual matters. Up to then the textual criticism of the Bible had largely been confined to the private research of professors, sometimes informing public debates outside of academia. These disputations show that biblical criticism was conquering the academic curriculum. As noted, students had been made familiar with the idiosyncrasies of New Testament Greek since 1625, but the posthumous appearance in 1655 of Georg Pasor’s Grammatica Graeca sacra Novi Testamenti, comprising all his previous guides with the addition of translation exercises, was a sign of the times: it was a ‘first class contribution to the philological study of the New Testament’.11 The

7 De Jonge, De bestudering, 24. 8 ‘53 et seqq. versus 53 cap. 7 una cum primis undecim cap. 8 desunt in multis veteribus codicibus; et in Syriaca versione.’ 9 Courcelles, Novum Testamentum, ad loc.: ‘Verba inclusa his duobus [ ] uncinulis, desideran- tur in multis veteribus codicibus Graecis et Latinis; ut et in versione Syriaca, Arabica, et Aethiopica; non agnoscuntur a multis Patribus; et desunt in quibusdam vetustis impressionibus.’ 10 See De Jonge, De bestudering, 24 and 27, who observes that Wettstein praised Courcelles as a source of inspiration for the editions of John Fell and John Mills. 11 ibid., 31. On the Eve of Spinoza: The Rise of Biblical Philology (1650–1670) 217 treatment of biblical philology in disputations now showed that it had become part of students’ daily intellectual bread. In his disputations, Jacob Revius examined several verses from the Old and New Testaments by means of linguistic close reading.12 This also forced him to scrutinize the Greek text. He did the same in a Disputatio theologica textualis, which first cited Faustus Socinus and explained his doctrines to set the stage for their refutation.13 Revius also engaged in textual criticism in this disputation.14 He even discussed a passage which ‘was absent from some copies’, referring to Beza for the details.15 Other examples of such ‘textual disputations’ include a Leiden disputation from 1654 (under the presidency of Johannes Coccejus),16 a Groningen disputation from 1662,17 another Leiden one, defended under Hoornbeek again,18 and one from 1670 defended in Utrecht.19 In chapter 7, we studied how Revius and Hoornbeek responded via disputations to La Peyrère by engaging in biblical philology. One could also point to a series of Disputationes philologicae defended in 1652 under Johannes Leusden, which dealt with proper names in the Bible and the division of the biblical texts,20 or the Groningen disputation of 1654, which treated the spelling of the name of Jesus and the precise translation of a passage in the Ethiopic Psalter.21 Although none of these disputations had subversive agenda (on the contrary), things were far from perfectly orthodox at the universities. In 1656, the deputy of the Classis of The Hague, Eleazar Lotius, complained at the yearly Synod of

12 Revius, Disputationes theologicae textuales. 13 Revius and Radaeus, Disputatio theologica textualis ad Col. 1, v. 15. 16. 17. prima, theses IV, V, XI, and XIV. 14 ibid., theses IX and X. 15 ibid., thesis XIII: ‘Mitto quod verba illa διὰ τοῦ αἱματος αὐτοῦ [in Colossians 1:14] (quamvis in se sint vera) a nonnullis exemplaribus absunt. De quo videndus Beza.’ The Greek words cited are relegated to the critical apparatus in Nestle-Aland, et al., Novum Testamentum, 524. 16 Coccejus and Clemens, Disputatio theologica textualis bipertita. 17 Maresius and Gesnerus, Disputatio theologica textualis de notitia Dei naturali. 18 Hoornbeek and De Raedt, Disputatio theologica textualis. 19 Burmannus and Mezölaki, Documentum pontificiis demonstratum. 20 Leusden, Disputationum philologicarum prima [-septima]. Van der Woude, Kaartregister, has references to ‘Leningrad’ and ‘Darmstadt’ as locations where these disputations were being held, but I found no hits in the online catalogues of the National Library of Russia or the Public Library of St Petersburg, or in the Universitäts- und Landesbibliothek Darmstadt. Nevertheless, these disputations were reprinted no fewer than six times as Leusden’s Philologus Hebraeus. For a collection of disputations from the same time defended in German territories, see Dilherr’s Disputationum … tomus primus, which presents more strictly philological treatments of the biblical text, including linguistic discussions of textual variants (68), the quality of Luther’s translation (44), linguistic discussions of the meaning of Hebrew words, and such subjects as chariots in the Bible, mourning gowns (129–35), the nature of New Testament Greek (pro Heinsio; see 301, 311, 318, and 320), etc. The disputations take their cue from such modern authors as Valla, Erasmus, Henricus Stephanus, Johannes Kirchmannus, Casaubon, Johannes Drusius Sr, father and son Buxtorf, Selden, and De Dieu. A Tomus novus appeared the same year. 21 Leusden and Müllerus, ΔΥΑΣ quaestionum theologico-philologicarum. 218 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic the Church of South-Holland about the liberties of philosophizing at Leiden University. Anticipating Lodewijk Meijer’s Philosophia Sacrae Scripturae interpres, Lotius complained that some ‘seemed to set reason as an interpreter of Holy Scripture and thus not submitted philosophy to theology as the handmaiden to the lady, but the theology to philosophy’.22 The fact that recta ratio (be it Cartesian or Aristotelian) was placed above theology caused ‘damage to the force of the Holy Scripture’.23 Ministers felt that the ‘insulting’ of Holy Scripture had become common practice at Leiden University.24 Outside the universities, in the meantime, biblical philology continued to attract more attention. Regarding issues of linguistic analysis and translation, for instance, there was in 1655 a skirmish of pamphlets about Jacob Westerbaen’s new Dutch translation of the book of Psalms, in which Westerbaen carped at the obscurity of the version given in the States’ Translation.25 The rise of historical contextualization was notably evident from the influence of chronological studies. The second edition of the States’ Translation, which came out in 1657, shows how customary chronology had become. Unlike in the first edition, the prefatory work contained a treatise on the genealogy of the peoples of the earth. Here we can see how closely the subject of chronology was related to geography. The treatise stated that the American Indians descended either from Japhet, through Magog’s seed crossing the Strait of Anián (separating Asia and North America, its existence was supposed rather than proved for Europeans, who did not sail through the Bering Strait until 1728. The map accompanying the description in the 1657 edition of the States’ Translation displays El Streto d’Anian on the location of the Bering Strait; see Figure 7). Alternately, the American Indians descended from Gomer (the grandson of Noah), via Norway and Greenland.26 This statement, which made a benevolent reference to Arias Montano’s work in the Antwerp Polyglot, was doubtless prompted by the discussions of Grotius, De Laet, and La Peyrère on the subject, and the geography itself was surely inspired partly by works such as Georgius Hornius’s Most accurate delineation of the ancient world, or Sacred and profane old geography of 1653.27 Another, hitherto academic, dispute hit the public arena in 1655.28 There was an exchange of pamphlets between the anti-Cartesian Jacobus du Bois and

22 Knuttel, Acta, vol. 3, 517: ‘de reden schijnen te stellen tot een uitlegger van de Heilige Schriftuer en alsoo niet de philosophie te voegen nae de theologie, als de dienstmaeght nae de vrouwe, maer de theologie nae de philosophie’. 23 ibid.: ‘kreuckinge van de craght der Heilige Schriftuere’. See also 518: ‘de recta ratio—sive illa formetur secundum principia Cartesiana, sive Aristotelica, etc. nam Iliacos intra muros peccatur et extra—noeit moght gestelt werden tot interpres Sacrae paginae.’ 24 Van Bunge, From Stevin to Spinoza, 70–1. 25 Hermans, Door eenen engen hals, 129–30. The remark led to a pamphlet war with Petrus van Gelre. 26 ‘Kort en klaer vertoogh der Landtschappen des werelts’, preface to the Statenvertaling 1657, no foliation or signum (last column). 27 Hornius, Accuratissima orbis antiqui delineatio. 28 Van Bunge, From Stevin to Spinoza, 75. On the Eve of Spinoza: The Rise of Biblical Philology (1650–1670) 219

Fig. 7. El Streto d’Anián (detail of a map in the paratext of the 2nd edition of the States’ Translation (1657)). Image by courtesy of Leiden University Library (shelf mark 1169 A 2).

Lambert van Velthuysen. In 1655, Van Velthuysen anonymously published a pamphlet on the much-debated question of what precisely happened, physically speaking, when God made the sun stand still for an entire day to give Joshua the opportunity to finish off the Amorites at Gibeon. The locus was notorious: Augustinus Hibernicus, Alonso Tostado, Nicolaus Serarius, Jacques Bonfrère, Cosmas Magalhães, and Hugo Grotius had discussed the problem, as had numerous Jewish commentators of Moses Maimonides’s twelfth-century Guide For The Perplexed. In the year that Van Velthuysen published his pamphlet, La Peyrère, as we have seen, also commented on the passage in his Praeadamitae.29 While Van Velthuysen’s pamphlet spawned two sequels, Du Bois churned out refutations. Other adversaries, such as Gisbertus Voetius and Abraham Heidanus, fanned the fire.30 In that same decade there were numerous other public conflicts that involved the Bible. One was the sudden increase in discussions about the ever-problematic character of the Sabbath. There were also polemics, in 1644–1646, 1653–1656, 1658, and especially in 1660 on the usufruct of church goods, confiscated from the Catholic Church during the Dutch Revolt. Voetius, supported by the

29 La Peyrère, Systema theologicum, 4:5 30 Joshua 10:12–13. See also Van Bunge, From Steven to Spinoza, 75–81. 220 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic same colleagues who had supported Udemans in his crusade against long hair (Meinardus Schotanus and Carolus de Maets) conducted a long campaign against the private appropriation of ecclesiastical property by regents and noble- men. He ultimately lost this battle.31 Moreover, there was an upsurge of anti- Socinian writings appearing in 1654 and 1655, after the official condemnation of Socinianism by the States of Holland in September 1653. In 1659, Jan Knol translated the Socinian confession into Dutch.32 Finally, there was, of course, the emergence of Coccejanism in the 1650s and 1660s. The support for Coccejus’s way of reading the Bible gave rise to the term ‘scripturarii’. Scripturarians proudly defended a philological explanation of the Bible against one based on systematic theology. Jetze Touber, the most recent student of Coccejanism, speaks of a ‘scripturarian movement’; it gained wide popularity amongst academic in the two decades preceding the publication of Spinoza’s Tractatus theologico-politicus, and not just among theologians of a Coccejan bent.33

8.3. ISAAC VOSSIUS AND CHRONOLOGY

Clearly, when La Peyrère’s Praeadamitae came out in 1655 its author surfed the still rising wave of publications on biblical chronology by scholars such as Cappel, Ussher, and Walton. Unlike the Latin publications of these professionals,34 La Peyrère’s work was swiftly translated into English (1656),35 and later into Dutch (1661). The anonymous Dutch translator assured his readers that it was not his aim to convince them of the validity of pre-Adamism. To the contrary: the reader of Dutch could now judge for himself how ridiculous the hypothesis was. This was so obvious that there was nothing to hide from the book’s readership. Shielding off the debate under the cloak of Latin only made people suspicious of something secret in the discussions. But pre- Adamism was only a hypothesis, ‘things proposed merely, as is customary at universities, to test the minds, as the author himself confesses’.36 Nevertheless,

31 Van Asselt, ‘Voetius contra de regenten’. 32 Knijff et al., Bibliographia Sociniana, no. 2011, 69; Van Bunge, From Stevin to Spinoza, 73. 33 Touber, ‘Biblical Philology and Hermeneutical Debate’, 329; Touber, Spinoza and Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic, Introduction, ‘Concepts and Method’, ‘Scripturarianism’. 34 Walton published an English defence of his Polyglot in 1659, against the accusations of John Owen. Ussher’s Annales Veteris et Novi Testamenti of 1650 came out in 1658 in an English translation. A work by Cappel, Le piuot de la foy et religion (1643), came out in an English translation in 1660. 35 La Peyrère, Men before Adam. Perhaps the Theological System had already appeared in translation in 1655. 36 [Anonymous], Tot den Christelijken Leser, in La Peyrère, Praeadamiten, sig.*2r: ‘dingen maer voorgestelt zijn, gelijkmen in de hooge Schoolen doet, om de verstanden te toetsen, gelijk den Schrijver daer van selfs bekent.’ On the Eve of Spinoza: The Rise of Biblical Philology (1650–1670) 221 to convince his readers of the absurdity of the hypothesis, the translator added a refutation of the work, bound in the book but paginated separately.37 This was a translation of the earlier-mentioned refutation by Eusebius Romanus. This Dutch translation of the Praeadamitae and of one of its better-known refutations, perhaps triggered by the Dutch translation of Vossius’s Dissertatio de vera aetate mundi of 1660, only helped to spread La Peyrère’s ideas and philological methods When Vossius read the Praeadamitae he was thirty-seven and had a life of classical philology behind him. He had also studied geography and chronology, the ‘two eyes’ of history. As a twenty-year-old, he had published the geographical works of one Scylax of Caryander and of an anonymous author. In 1639, Grotius suggested that Isaac Vossius, who was to become his secretary four years later (1643–1644),38 could see his Annotationes through the press.39 In 1646, Vossius published a hitherto unknown manuscript of the letters of Ignatius of Antioch, the authenticity of which was contested.40 Learning from Scaliger and Saumaise, Vossius had also studied the Greek Anthology, Martial, and Catullus. Via Saumaise he had inherited Scaliger’s interest in chronology.41 Of course, he also learned something from his family’s study in the history of biblical idolatry: his older brother Dionysius Vossius’s (d. 1633) Latin translation of Menasseh ben Israel’s work on idolatry, De idololatria liber (which Isaac published posthumously in 1641) and his father Gerardus Vossius’s De theologia gentili (1641). As we have seen, the genre had more or less been established by John Selden with his De diis Syris (1617) and transported to Dutch soil through the publication of Heinsius’s second edition of that text in 1629 in Leiden.42 Scaliger had made chronology fashionable among scholars in the Republic. Ubbo Emmius in Friesland and Nicolaus Mulerius in Groningen scrutinized his works, as did Vossius’s own father, Gerardus. Chronology helped to order history, and with an ordered history it was easier to come to terms with the geography of the world as well—no small interest for the mercantile Northern Netherlands.43 Anthony Grafton has pointed out that ‘[b]y the time that Vossius ran onto the playing field . . . the game of sacred chronology had well-established questions, which all players were expected to confront’.44 Most important of these were the contradictory accounts of the age of the world. Part of the method to calculate the age of the world consisted of adding up the ages of the patriarchs, for the Bible mentioned at what age each patriarch begot the next. However, the ages of the patriarchs mentioned in the Hebrew Bible differed

37 ibid., sig. *2v. 38 Blok, Isaac Vossius, 179–91. 39 Grotius to I. Vossius, 13 August 1639, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 10, 526, no. 4255: ‘Nos opperimur Heinsiana ad Novum Testamentum, iis visis parati et nostra dare edenda aut hic aut Amstelodami. Si Amstelodami id fiet, te rogo obstetricari velis partui mihi carissimo.’ 40 Blok, Isaac Vossius, 208–13. 41 Van Miert, ‘The French Connection’, 33–4. 42 See chapter 4, section 4.3, ‘Heinsius and Selden’. 43 Grafton, ‘Isaac Vossius, Chronologer’, 49. 44 ibid., 62. 222 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic widely from those mentioned in the Septuagint, its third-century bc Greek translation. Between Creation and the Flood, the differences largely neutralized each other, yielding a time span of 1,656 years between Creation and the Flood according to the Hebrew Masoretic text, and 2,262 if one followed the Septuagint. The authoritative Jewish author Flavius Josephus seemed to have deviated both from the established Hebrew text and from the Septuagint—both of which he used. The discrepancy was even larger, however, if one followed yet another version of the Old Testament, the Samaritan Pentateuch: a Hebrew Bible written in the ancient Samaritan alphabet, which represented, according to some, an ancient form of the Hebrew script and which therefore contained the oldest version of the text. According to this Samaritan version, the time span between Creation and Flood counted only 1,307 years.45 The problems increased with the calculation of the time span between the Flood and the birth of Christ. The more scholars attempted to make the numbers between the different versions of the Bible match up, and even to solve the discrepancies within the Hebrew text itself, the more problems piled up.46 One of the standard problems had been introduced by Scaliger and was discussed by Gerardus Vossius. Scaliger had accepted as genuine the dynasty lists of Egyptian kings by the priest Manetho, which forced him to accept that there were pharaohs even before the date of Creation, which he had calculated from the Hebrew text. The elder Vossius followed Scaliger in trusting the authenticity of Manetho, but unlike Scaliger, he thought the lists of kings indicated not suc- cessive but co-existing dynasties. This may have saved the day for some, but not for Vossius’s rebel son, who took to challenging received truths. To a certain extent, Isaac learned from his father: like him, he ignored historical astronomy, relied on argumenta e silentio, and showed historical imagination so as to ask ‘not what the texts said but what must have happened’, a method which Valla had already adopted in unmasking the Donation of Constantine as a fraud.47 Vossius resorted to rational physical arguments in questioning the age of Noah and the traditional account that the Flood had covered every single stretch of the Earth. Unlike his father, Isaac came to iconoclastic conclusions. On rational and historical grounds, Vossius argued for the reliability of the Septuagint against the Hebrew Masoretic text. Only granting the long age of the world as allowed for by the Septuagint could Chinese chronology, which Isaac Vossius accepted as genuine, be harmonized with biblical chronology. Vossius’s work was a pamphlet rather than a serious work of scholarship. Although he made use of simple tables, he eschewed the intricate calculations which make most scholars who open up chronological tomes, then and now, feel uncomfortable. The accessibility of his pamphlet Dissertatio de vera aetate mundi of 1659, and in particular in its Dutch translation which appeared a year later, did much

45 ibid., 55, n. 41. 46 ibid., 56. 47 ibid., 68; Grafton, Joseph Scaliger, vol. 2, 711–20. On the Eve of Spinoza: The Rise of Biblical Philology (1650–1670) 223 to enhance his reputation as an important player on the field, and perhaps it even brought him the scholarly stardom denied to his more taxing colleagues. There was much for readers to appreciate in Vossius’s pamphlet: he dismissed Manetho, and he ridiculed the immemorial eons given by Chaldean and Chinese astronomers, so beloved by La Peyrère. When Vossius wrote that ‘various men’ had moved the time of creation several tens of thousands of years back, he did not mean the Chaldeans themselves, but their champion, Isaac de La Peyrère. As we saw in chapter 7, La Peyrère had almost conflated the eternal time before creation and the virtually eternal time after creation, belittling the theoretically enormous difference between the two. This was what Vossius referred to when he objected that it was as if the difference between eternity and an enormous space, is not larger than that between a mathematical point and the whole universe. Vossius carried on: For their opinion they seek patronage from the antiquities of the Babylonians and Egyptians. To these some of them add the Seras [i.e., Chinese] (whom they mistakenly call the Sinas), from whose painstakingly accurate chronography they subvert the veracity of Moses’s account and attempt to construct an immense antiquity for the world.48 Passages like these were developed from Vossius’s marginal annotations on La Peyrère’s work.49 The first part of La Peyrère’s scandalous book, the Exercitatio, about the pre-Adamites, came through Vossius’s ire nearly unscathed, but in the epilogue, where La Peyrère claimed that the Chaldeans, Egyptians, Aristotle, and the Chinese would have agreed with him, Vossius could no longer restrain himself: If we followed your opinion about the time and antiquity of these peoples, we could not state anything with certainty about the origin of the world. But if we follow their true histories, and indeed the truth itself, they will agree in all respects with Moses’s traditions.50 Vossius disagreed with La Peyrère’s easy acceptance of the enormous Chaldean and Chinese eons. Vossius took a much more limited view of Chinese chronology, a point which he developed in his pamphlet on the true age of the world, the Dissertatio de vera aetate mundi of 1659. There was no need for a pre-Adamite hypothesis if we accepted as authoritative the longer chronology of the Earth’s

48 Vossius, Dissertatio de vera aetate mundi, III: ‘Opinioni suae patrocinium quaerunt ex Babyloniorum Aegyptiorumque antiquitatibus. His addunt nonnulli Seras, quos perperam Sinas adpellant, e quorum accuratissima Chronographiae Mosaycae historiae veritatem evertere, ac immensam orbis antiquitatem adstruere conantur.’ 49 See La Peyrère, Praeadamiten, c. 26, 51; cf. c. 8, 19. La Peyrère consistently calls the Chinese ‘Sinenses’, not ‘Sinae’. 50 Quoted after Derksen, ‘Manuscript Notes’, 271. 224 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic existence put forth in the Septuagint: in that case there would be no contradiction with the Chinese chronologies. Here, as his adversary Georgius Hornius did not fail to point out, Vossius still took Chinese history to be older than the world of scholarship in the 1650s agreed that it was.51 Vossius calculated, on the basis of the Septuagint, that the world had been created around 6,000 bc, whereas he assigned to Chinese history a duration of 4,505 years.52 The history of the Chinese empire had therefore started in 2847 bc. (Later, in his Variarum obser- vationum liber of 1685, Vossius even spoke of an antiquity of 5,000 years instead of 4,505 years—did he round off the number then?)53 Vossius trusted only one Jesuit source on the true history of China: Martino Martini, who in his First Ten Books of Chinese History, which had just appeared (1658), distinguished myth- ical and real Chinese histories.54 Reading chapter 4 of La Peyrère’s Systema theologicum, Vossius underlined for himself a clever argument by La Peyrère, who writes that just because something is not said in Genesis does not mean it did not exist. And just because knowledge of something is mentioned for the first time in relation to Noah, La Peyrère continues, this does not mean, historically, that Noah was more know ledgeable than Adam.55 In addition to these underlinings, there is in 4.7 a place where Vossius reacted to La Peyrère’s theory of a non-universal flood, to which Vossius was favourably disposed (although he modified it). La Peyrère relates how the Jews ignored God’s commandment not to mix with gentile women, and paraphrases the biblical text ‘sons of God’ as ‘sons of Adam, who were subsequently named Jews’. Hereby, La Peyrère silently held open the possibility that peoples other than the Jews could also be sons of God. ‘This is ingenious’, Vossius exclaimed in the margin, ‘but foolish.’56 There are four marginal notes by Vossius in the Exercitatio and in book 4; books 1, 2, and 5 were left untouched. It was when reading book 3 that Vossius grew sarcastic. This is to say that the biblical philology that La Peyrère expounded in books 4 and 5 seems not to have disturbed Vossius very much. Of course, Vossius hardly took offence at radical biblical textual criticism, as long as it was, to his mind, sound criticism. This apparent silent agreement of Vossius with La Peyrère’s biblical philology has not yet been fully acknowledged and points out why, despite Vossius’s refutation of La Peyrère’s pre-Adamite hypothesis, the two men largely shared methodologies.

51 Grafton, ‘Isaac Vossius, Chronologer’, 75. 52 Vossius, Dissertatio de vera aetate mundi, XLVII: ‘A principio itaque regni Serum, usque ad finem praesentis anni, qui est 1658 post Christum natum, colliguntur in universum anni 4505.’ 53 Grafton, ‘Isaac Vossius, Chronologer’, 81–3. 54 Martini, Sinicae historiae decas prima. See Grafton, ‘Isaac Vossius, Chronologer’, 70–1, and Mandelbrote, ‘Isaac Vossius and the Septuagint’, 91. 55 See Derksen, ‘Manuscript Notes’, 277. 56 Ms. note in La Peyrère, Systema theologicum (Leiden University Library, shelfmark 501 E 3), 203: ‘Ingeniosa haec, attamen inepta’. Cf. Derksen, ‘Manuscript Notes’, 277. On the Eve of Spinoza: The Rise of Biblical Philology (1650–1670) 225

His twenty-six comments on book 3 are restricted to the first seven of the eleven paragraphs. Susan Derksen has observed that most of these remarks concern biblical chronology, as would befit the subject of Dissertatio de vera aetate mundi, which these marginalia eventually fed into.57 Yet Vossius also refutes some of the implausible ad hoc arguments that La Peyrère adduced to shore up his theory. Textual criticism is altogether limited in the Praeadamitae. Vossius had already noticed this when he observed that the words ‘let us go outside’ (egre- diamur foras, as the Vulgate has it) are not in the Hebrew text or in the Targumim of Genesis 4:8. On another occasion, in an attempt to confirm a story about the sins of Cain as related by Flavius Josephus, La Peyrère adduces the testimony provided by Ismael Boulliau of a Greek translation of a Hebrew Chronicle kept in the Royal Library in Paris.58 Vossius remarked that ‘a man should beware of his equal’, implying that Boulliau was as bad a scholar as La Peyrère himself.59 Vossius’s pamphlet on the true age of the world drew a response from Georgius Hornius, professor of history in Leiden, who had already published, in 1652, a book On American Origins, in which he joined the polemic fought out by Grotius and De Laet a decade earlier.60 His elaborately entitled Dissertation on the True Age of the World in which the Opinion is Refuted of Those Who State that the World Came into Being 1440 Years Earlier than the Customary Era Has It,61 was swiftly rebutted by Vossius in his Reproofs of the Writing of Hornius on the Age of the World,62 which was in turn immediately answered by Hornius’s Defence of the Dissertation on the True Age of the World, against the Reproofs of Isaac Vossius63 and an Expanded Defence of the True Age of the World64—all of which appeared in 1659.65 Another work by Hornius, which grew out of his work on America and the polemic with Vossius, was his Ecclesiastical History, from the Creation of the World to the Year 1666 ad, published originally in Latin in 1665 as the Historia ecclesiastica et politica and translated into Dutch a year later.66 The book proved a bestseller: the Dutch translation was reprinted half a dozen times over the course of the next eight years.

8.4. ON THE EVE OF SPINOZA

The decade preceding the publication of Spinoza’s Tractatus theologico-politicus saw an increase in religious-political polemics. Concomitantly, issues of translation and chronology remained firmly on the agenda.

57 Derksen, ‘Manuscript Notes’, 272–7. 58 La Peyrère, Systema theologicum 3.4, 127. 59 ‘similis similem caveat’; see Derksen, ‘Manuscript Notes’, 275. 60 Hornius, De originibus Americanis; Rubiés, ‘Hugo Grotius’s Dissertation’, 227, n. 16. 61 Hornius, Dissertatio de vera aetate mundi. 62 Vossius, Castigationes. 63 Hornius, Defensio. 64 Hornius, Auctarium. 65 For an excellent outline of the arguments pro and con, see Rossi, The Dark Abyss, 145–52. 66 Hornius, Kerckelĳcke historie. 226 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

The translation of treatises such as Vossius’s Dissertatio de vera aetate mundi and Hornius’s Historia ecclesiastica into Dutch marks a point when the discussion on chronology spilled over into the vernacular. It was not long before, in 1668, that Reinhardus Bachmannus published, as a supplement and tool to the States’ Translation, a Year Time’s Invention and Time Register on the Bible, Translated on the Order of the States General, a cleverly ambiguous title, which suggests that Bachmannus’s own work was also commissioned by the States General.67 Bachmannus did obtain a licence from Leiden’s Faculty of Theology, who recommended the work to the States General in an Advise, which would be printed on the verso of its title page. And the States General had granted him a privilege to publish the book as early as 1659, when its first draft was ready. It took Bachmannus another nine years, as he notes in apology in his preface, to publish an outline of his work, for the cost of printing the original work was too high for him. The book was dedicated to the States General and to Willem Hendrik, the future stadholder William III (and English king). In the cover letter which accompanied the printed edition, Bachmannus referred to the book’s preface, where he explained that many theologians and ‘philosophers’ (what we would today call scholars) of all religious denominations had written on biblical chronology in various languages, but that they never agreed with one another, nor with God’s word. The ‘timewriters’ (Tytschrivers) whom he reviewed in the preface to his Time Register ‘have been able to bring only little light to understand God’s Word in the right sense and intention of the Holy Spirit’. Satan took advantage of the disagreement among the learned men: biblical chronology was now generally dismissed as dealing with petty subtleties of dusty scholars, and even people of sound religious convictions now admitted there were contradictions within the canonical texts. Satan even seduced some scholars to prefer the Septuagint over the sacred Hebrew Bible.68 In other words, philologists had desacralized the text of the Bible. The reference to some scholars’ preference for the Septuagint was no doubt a scoff directed against Isaac Vossius, although Vossius was not mentioned in the preface of Bachmannus’s printed Time Register. Bachmannus cited the older Vossius only as having called out in despair that ‘even if you would have occupied yourself for a hundred years in the histories and time reckonings, you still would not be able to solve all the problems’.69 Bachmannus felt the need to write about biblical chronology in the vernacular in order to guide and protect the ordinary folk reading the States’ Translation.

67 Bachmannus, Jaer-Tijts-Uytvindinge. This was purportedly the second edition, but I was unable to find a copy of the first edition. 68 Jetze Touber not only made me aware of Bachmannus’s Jaer-Tijds-Uytvindinge, but also discovered the cover letter from Bachmannus to the Synod of Groningen, paraphrased above (Groninger Archief, Archief Provinciale Synode van Groningen, fols 1v–2r) 69 Bachmannus, Jaer-Tijts-Uytvindinge, sig. *2v: ‘Al-waert, dat ghy hondert jaren langh in de Historiyen ende Tijdt-reeckeninghen oeffendet, ghy en soudet u uyt alle swarigheden niet kon- nen redden.’ On the Eve of Spinoza: The Rise of Biblical Philology (1650–1670) 227

Due to Isaac Vossius’s polemical work, biblical philology and chronology reached a public which fifteen years earlier had experienced similar antiquarian and technical discussions of the Bible during the Hairy War. From some textual criticism and a bit more linguistics, and from profound historical contextualization, the discussion had now expanded to incorporate technical chronology. The full range of textual, linguistic, and historical criticism was now out in the open. The public at large could now participate in discussions about the Bible that were not theological in any metaphysical sense, but were historical. The result was not beneficial for the authority of the biblical authors. And as Bachmannus concluded, philologists like Isaac Vossius had degraded the status of Sacred Scripture. Biblical philology in the Dutch Republic in the 1660s was not restricted to the discussion of the true age of the world. Like the previous decade, it was a decade of intense political, theological, and philosophical debates involving the Bible. In 1663, Jacob Westerbaen (whose psalms’ translations, as we have observed, had led to a pamphlet war with Petrus van Gelre in 1655–1656) defended the decision of the States of Holland to have ministers of the word pray first of all for the States as the highest political authority, which likewise led to a skirmish conducted in pamphlets.70 In 1668, two years before his death, Westerbaen fought a third polemic, this time on account of a critique of ministers’ salary.71 Around the same time, in 1665 (vols 1–2) and 1668 (vols 3–9), Frans Kuyper published the notorious collection of Socinian texts known as the Bibliotheca fratrum Polonorum quos unitarios vocant.72 It may have inspired the minister Johannes Becius, who sympathized with Mennonites and Arminians and was accused of Arianism and Socinianism by his orthodox Calvinist colleagues, allegations he denied. His Apologia modesta et Christiana of 1668 was deemed blasphemous and censored by the city of Middelburg, a ban which was enforced by the Court of Holland. One of his self-defences of 1669 was publicly burned in Middelburg.73 In the city of Deventer, a pamphlet war raged from 1669 to 1671, in which the reformed clergy accused a Mennonite minority of Socinianism.74 In 1668 open conflict broke out between the Classis of Vlissingen and the head- strong and popular preacher Jean de Labadie, who defended himself in a treatise titled La puissance eclesiastique [sic] bornée à l’Ecriture et par Elle. There he argued that Sacred Scripture alone should be the sole touchstone in every spiritual conflict. Pressured by Albertine Agnes, the widow of Friesland’s stadholder Willem Frederik, the Synod of Zeeland did not endorse the Classis of Vlissingen and Labadie confessed regret for any insults against the synod and its individual

70 Westerbaen, Krancken-troost; Oogh-zalf; Op de liefdelooze en oproerige predicatien. 71 He published pamphlets in this polemic: Kost-verlooren’; Een zeep-balletje; Wat zeep; J. Toledoos sorg-verlooren, Wat rhabarber. 72 Knijff et al., Bibliographia Sociniana, 27–8, 55, 60–7. 73 Becius, Apologia; Zilverberg, ‘Becius’, 27. 74 Rademaker-Helfferich, ‘Een verschrikkelijk en gruwelijk kwaad’, 242–5. 228 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic members. But Labadie continued to publish without ecclesiastical consent and ran into new conflicts. He refused to backtrack from his attacks on Louis Wolzogen’s De scripturarum interprete, a refutation of Lodewijk Meijer’s notorious Philosophia Sacrae Scripturae interpres (1666). The Walloon synod, gathered in the summer of 1668 in Naarden, had declared Wolzogen’s refutation to be orthodox, despite its Cartesian inspiration, and suspended Labadie.75 Labadie, that is, was no Meijerian, no Cartesian, but also not a supporter of Coccejus, nor of Samuel Maresius, two theologians who supported Wolzogen’s attack on Meijer’s scandalous book, but who found themselves strange bedfellows indeed. A year of struggle followed, with the outcome that in 1669 Labadie was fired from his position as minister in Middelburg, although not without a positive recommendation. He was favourably received by liberal-minded people such as the Amsterdam burgomaster (mayor) Coenraad van Beuningen (a good friend of Isaac Vossius), the Mennonite Galenus Abrahamsz de Haan, and the spiritual leader Antoinette Bourignon. Labadie gathered his supporters around him and formed a community of his own, increasingly isolated from the Reformed Church. Gisbertus Voetius openly attacked him in disputations during the autumn of 1669. The fact that these attacks in Latin disputations were quickly translated and published in Dutch, shows that the academic debate reached the public sphere.76 This was also the year in which Voetius’s colleague Johannes Leusden had his students defend philological disputations on textual variants in the Greek New Testament.77 The following year saw the publication of Leusden’sPhilologus Hebraeo-Graecus generalis, a collection of disputations and dissertations on biblical variants and translations, reprinted in Leiden in 1685 and in Basel in 1739. Leusden’s 1652 series of Disputationes philologicae saw no fewer than six reprints.78 In his Philologus Hebraeus (1656, reprinted four times in the seventeenth century) Leusden vouched to keep a distance from potentially dangerous textual criticism, promising instead to stick to ‘sound Reformed philologists and theologians’, as Touber points out in his study of this period.79 As Samuel Preus has shown, there were continuous hermeneutical debates about the Bible in the 1660s, involving radical and Reformed thinkers alike.80

75 Nauta, ‘Labadie’. Bezemer, ‘Wolzogen’, seems to imply that Wolzogen was cleared in 1669. Israel, Radical Enlightenment, 207, speaks of the synod of Naarden of 1669, but in 1669 the Synod took place in Dordrecht. See the letter from the Synod of 1668 in Posthumus Meyjes et al., Livre des actes, 699–700; and Livre Synodal, 670–4. See also Rogge, Beschrijvende catalogus, vol. 2:1, 223. 76 Voetius and Smetser, Disputatio theologica; Voetius and Carstaers, Disputatio theologica; Voetius, Godts geleerde vragen. 77 Leusden and Wynhuys, Disputatio philologica De variantibus lectionibus. 78 Two of these (see above n. 20) coincided, respectively, with the second and third editions of Leusden, Philologus Hebraeo-Graecus generalis. 79 Quoted thus in Touber, Spinoza and Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic, chapter 1, section 1.3, ‘Content of Spinoza’s Biblical Criticism’, ‘Language’. 80 Preus, Spinoza. On the Eve of Spinoza: The Rise of Biblical Philology (1650–1670) 229

The presses were running hot with pamphlets addressing these sorts of religious and ecclesiastical matters, and it was a fertile climate for radical literature. In 1665 a Dutch translation appeared of an attack in Latin on the Calvinist clergy: Thomas Browne’s Religio medici. Two years later the Dutch translation of Hobbes’s Leviathan appeared.81 This was, of course, also the decade in which the brothers Adriaan and Johannes Koerbagh advertised Franciscus van den Enden’s ideas of a popular enlightenment and were convicted on account of the publication of Socinian writings.82 In 1669 Lambert van Velthuysen published a Treatise on Superstition, directed to the city magistrate of Utrecht, of which he published three more defences that same year, and a fourth one in 1670.83 Clearly, things were far from quiet on the Calvinist front when Spinoza’s Tractatus theologico-politicus appeared in 1670. The Treatise added more fuel to the fires than any other treatise had, but the fires were already burning in several places. Admittedly, most of the works listed above moved away from the textual criticism, linguistic discussions, and historical contextualization discussed in this book, but in their concern with the relations among philosophy, theology, and the Bible they ultimately addressed the same question: what was the foundation of the authority of Scripture?

8.5. CONCLUSIONS

In the 1650s and 1660s, the rise of biblical philology in the Dutch Republic continued apace: first a research subject for scholars such as Scaliger, Heinsius, and Grotius, it now moved onto the academic curriculum. Whereas in the 1640s, biblical philology was framed by discussions over the rapprochement of the Catholicism and Protestantism and men with long hair, this time it was primarily the true age of the world which informed the controversies. There were linguistic issues, such as La Peyrère’s interpretation of the psalms and the differences between the Hebrew Bible and the Septuagint; and there were historical discussions about the Jewish people. Meanwhile, textual criticism for the first time became a subject of academic disputations. Such a climate made the ground fertile for what Jonathan Israel has labelled the Radical Enlightenment. Philosophers inspired by Descartes, and refusing to respect the disciplinary partition walls between philosophy and theology, experienced philosophy, and in particular natural philosophy, achieving greater independence from theology. Now also philology became less strictly attached to theology. The emancipation of natural philosophy (or natural

81 Van Bunge, From Stevin to Spinoza, 89. 82 See Israel, Radical Enlightenment, 186–9. 83 Rogge, Beschrijvende catalogus, vol. 2:1, 252–3. See also Knuttel, TEMPO: The Early Modern Pamphlets Online, nos 9774, 9776, 9778, and 9852. 230 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic science) and of philology did not necessarily mean that these ‘sciences’ turned against the Bible. This book has demonstrated that philology was a powerful weapon in the hands of orthodox Bible commentators, and Eric Jorink has shown how intimately the knowledge of nature was intertwined with theology in the seventeenth century.84 But as instruments of knowledge, both pursuits could also be employed as ancillae to nonorthodox positions in religion, philosophy, or politics: witness what La Peyrère had done and Spinoza would soon do. Philology and nature knowledge did not always play a central role in the politico-religious and philosophical pamphlet wars in these two decades. But philology nevertheless played a much greater role than has hitherto been acknowledged. Its destructive potential reverberated beyond the borders of the Dutch Republic. La Peyrère and Isaac Vossius were refuted not only within the Dutch Republic. Rome was forced to change its attitude with regard to critical research into the transmission of the biblical text, as is demonstrated by the controversy over the pre-Adamites. In this controversy the status of the biblical text, in particular of the Septuagint, took centre stage. Whereas neither Vossius’s view that the Septuagint was more authoritative than the Masoretic text, nor his argument that the Flood had not been universal, were condemned by the Church of Rome in 1663, the Church changed its verdict in 1686, after the Oratorian Richard Simon had presented a much more sophisticated historical and textual-critical analysis of the Bible than Vossius had produced.85 Vossius’s biblical works were now also put on the Index.86 Richard Simon encompassed the enormous body of work on the biblical text that had been published up to his time, including Grotius’s Annotationes and the work of Spinoza. The story of the production and reception of Spinoza’s scandalous Tractatus theologico-politicus falls outside the scope of this study; but what should be clear by this point in our discussion is that Spinoza engaged with a type of discourse that was highly familiar to his readership. Even people without proficiency in Latin would easily have understood his arguments, for biblical philology had conquered the public sphere in the three decades leading up to 1670. It is now time to draw some general conclusions with regard to the developments in biblical philology from the time of Scaliger to the biblical controversies in the time of Isaac Vossius.

84 Jorink, Reading the Book of Nature. 85 Mandelbrote, ‘Isaac Vossius and the Septuagint’, 96–100. 86 ibid., 107–8. Conclusion: The Emancipation of Biblical Philology (1590–1670)

INTRODUCTION

This study has aimed to make clear that biblical philology was developed amid fierce political, confessional, and philosophical strife. For nearly two centuries, from Valla to Grotius, these controversies managed to set the agenda for philology, and philology was mostly enlisted in the service of confessions struggling to establish themselves ever more firmly. However, in the Dutch Republic in the middle of the seventeenth century, biblical philology was also put to the service of unorthodox religious thinking. To what extent did biblical authority suffer on account of textual criticism, linguistic analysis, and historical contextualization?

PHILOLOGY: A NEUTRAL INSTRUMENT OR AN INTRINSIC FORCE OF CHANGE?

The Bible was at least as central to the men and women of the Renaissance as it had been to their medieval ancestors. In both eras, people of all social strata considered the Bible to be a source of knowledge about God, men, and nature. The interpretation of the Bible was not restricted to metaphysics and morals, but extended to physics and cosmology. What did change over the course of the Renaissance was the study of the history of the textual transmission of the Bible causing a growing awareness of its linguistic multiplicity. From Valla to Spinoza, from the Complutensian Polyglot to the London Polyglot, the mass of material, linguistic knowledge, historical depth, and chronological sophistication in the study of the Bible increased. This knowledge effected an on-going historicization of the Bible’s texts and its history. Apart from these internal developments in biblical philology, external factors also downplayed the authority of the Bible. First, there was the wider 232 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic intellectual context, such as the slow crumbling of the Aristotelian worldview and the rise of Baconian experimentalism, Cartesian rationalism, and Gassendian mechanism and (later on) the Newtonian mathematization of physics. These developments were strung together in intricate ways. In the first half of the seventeenth century, they resulted in ancient authors losing much of the authority they had enjoyed as a matter of course in previous centuries. The very word auctoritas changed from denoting an embodied author to indicating an entity of power. Henk Jan de Jonge has assigned to Descartes a cardinal role in the history of the authority of Scripture: it was with Descartes that a fundamental faith in the historically grounded divine authority of the Bible turned into principal dis- trust.1 This interpretation shows the same type of reasoning that Jonathan Israel followed in arguing for the crucial importance of Spinoza in the erosion of biblical authority. The importance of Descartes and Spinoza lies first and foremost in their radical metaphysics. Descartes’s idea of systematic doubt was incommensurable with the authority of the Bible. Spinoza’s conflation of nature and God was downright heretical. But while Descartes and Spinoza can be credited with offering examples of how to break away from the authority of the Bible, their methods of approaching the Bible remained rather traditional. Descartes did not follow the route of philology; he did not even develop methods for reading the Bible. In fact, he raised a disciplinary wall between philosophy and theology, and remained silent about philology and history. Spinoza clearly used philology and history in his biblical studies, as his Tractatus theologico-politicus amply exemplifies, but although his radical conclusions seem to follow from this method, he drew them in the context of a larger philosophical program. Spinoza’s metaphysics was not reached via philologica. Yet, this is not to say, pace commentators such as Peter van Rooden and Theo Verbeek, that Spinoza wanted to invalidate philology as irrelevant for the ethical interpretation of the Bible. Neither was Spinoza the first, as Jonathan Israel held, to distinguish between the sensus and the veritas of the text; that distinction was already familiar to Scaliger and Heinsius, as we have seen above.2 What Spinoza does, rather, is to place himself in a philological discourse which by 1670 was familiar to the rank and file of the Protestant clergy —what Susan James has characterized as ‘up-to-date biblical criticism’. As Jetze Touber put it, ‘Spinoza’s biblical criticism fed into this flow’, and thus ‘aggravated tensions already present in Calvinist theological practice’. Some of those tensions were between Coccejans, Cartesians, and Voetians, who all to different extents accepted philology as a valid method for studying the biblical text . The important thing is that ‘Spinoza’s biblical criticism did not materialize out of the

1 De Jonge, Van Erasmus tot Reimarus, 19. 2 See chapter 1, section 1.3, ‘Scaliger’s Biblical Philology in his Unpublished Letters to De Thou and to Seguin’, n. 62; and chapter 4, section 4.2, ‘Heinsius’s Biblical Philology’, ‘Textual Criticism’, n. 31. Conclusion: The Emancipation of Biblical Philology (1590–1670) 233 blue’. The context was not just the type of philology current in the Jewish scholarly community in Amsterdam; Spinoza consciously targeted the threat he felt coming from the Protestant clergy.3 Only the disciplinary boundaries between theology and philology can account for the fact that they lived side by side for nearly 200 years. Theology was metaphysical and moral in character, whereas philology was a method of studying texts. From Valla to at least Grotius, the humanistic turn to biblical philology had, of course, sometimes led to tensions with theology, but this was not the rule. On the contrary, the hermeneutic point of departure was that philology added force to theological exegesis and empowered dogmatic thinking as an ancilla theologiae, an instrumental ars rather than a scientia, in the same way that natural philosophy, since Augustine, had been regarded as a servant to theology, rather than an alternative to it. Historical and philological arguments could and should underpin dogmatic claims, and at least in the field of ecclesiastical history, philology was used to that purpose on both sides of the religious divide, as is testified by the Magdeburg Centuriae and the Baronian Annales. Historians did not automatically dismantle the authority of ancient texts.4 One could go a step further and argue that philology was not only enlisted to strengthen all sorts of religious interpretations, including latitudinarian ones, but that political, religious, philosophical, and moral agendas stipulated what philology was set to work for. Just as Valla did not end up unmasking the Donation of Constantine by accident, but because it served the political agenda of his patron, philology was for Erasmus an argument that helped him to call for a spiritual and ethical reformation of society as a whole, including State and Church.5 Extra-philological motivations are less clearly recognizable in Joseph Scaliger’s work. Whereas Christian theology, and even anti-Catholic motives, informed his chronological studies, no particular agenda can be ascribed to most of his biblical philology. We are led to believe that his almost Rankean quest for the truth of what really happened, would, in his eyes, have necessarily helped to further religious truth, but he admitted that this was not necessarily the case. He shared his puzzlement only with a carefully selected few—young men like the Vassan brothers who might not even have shared his Calvinist convictions (they converted to Catholicism about eight years after they left Scaliger’s household in 1606). De Jonge has pointed out that biblical philology kept pace with developments of ‘the sciences’ (i.e., the natural sciences and natural philosophy): from something

3 This discussion relies on Touber, Spinoza and Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic, Introduction, ‘The Bible in the Dutch Reformed Church’; Introduction,‘Scripturarianism’; and chapter 1, section 1.2, ‘Background to Spinoza’s Biblical Criticism’ (and see also ibid., chapter 1, section 1.2, ‘Background to Spinoza’s Biblical Criticism’, ‘Jewish Youth’). 4 Hardy, ‘The Ars Critica’, 19–24. 5 De Jonge, Van Erasmus tot Reimarus, 8. 234 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic ancillary to theology it was transformed into a critical and autonomous discipline.6 The question is pertinent: how did biblical philology relate to the developments in science and philosophy? Much has been written about clashing interpretations over the status of miracles mentioned in the Bible in the light of the rise of Cartesian ‘rationalism’ and mechanistic philosophy.7 Many Dutch Cartesians not only ignored Descartes’s separation of philosophy and theology, but also adopted an empirical attitude towards the New Sciences that was perhaps more akin to Francis Bacon’s model of structural accumulation of knowledge than to Descartes’s rationalism. The relation between philology and the New Sciences has not been the subject of this study, but this book has gathered evidence that biblical philology played an important part in the development of radical philosophy. The Radical Enlightenment was conditioned not just by the New Sciences but also by biblical philology. In fact, biblical philology manifested itself as precisely a science. It became a subject of academic teaching and it attracted much attention outside of academia. It provoked the same kinds of theologically charged controversies as did the new sciences, be they empirical or rational. As we have demonstrated, one can speak of a Scaligerian method in the development of this ‘science’: his textual criticism, linguistic expertise, and historical contextualization required empirical knowledge of history, experience with the structure and vocabulary of language, and rational problem solving. This scientific method was an instrument in the hands of his students. From the editors of his correspondence, such as Daniel Heinsius and Jacobus Revius, to his most independent-minded erstwhile students Hugo Grotius and Claude Saumaise, from his orthodox colleague Franciscus Gomarus, whom he trusted as a philologist, to his admirer La Peyrère, whom he would no doubt have demolished as a scholarly fraud in the business of scholarship: they all loved Joseph Scaliger. But Scaliger was not appropriated exclusively by either Remonstrants or Counter-Remonstrants. If we look at Scaliger’s legacy, we note that the Counter- Remonstrant Gomarus was left with Scaliger’s notes on the Thesaurus temporum so he could prepare a second edition, something he never did. Alexander Morus, an eloquent and erudite ecclesiastical historian who scandalized himself out of the Walloon Church, managed to complete this task, and in his preface to the second edition (1658) of Thesaurus temporum, he compared Scaliger with the Jesuit scholar Jacques Sirmond. He concluded that Sirmond stood on the shoulders of Scaliger. Scaliger had made mistakes, yes, but he stood tall as the giant of scholarship.8 The first edition of the (Secunda) Scaligerana

6 De Jonge, ‘Hugo Grotius: exégète’, 114. 7 Van Bunge, Van Stevin tot Spinoza. 8 Morus, ‘Praefatio’, sigs ††4v: ‘eumque [Sirmundum] adeo magis interdum quam Scaligerum sequimur. Sed an ideo maioris quam Scaligerum facimus? Quasi vero Gigantis invectus humeris pumilio, quia longius prospicit, ipso Gigante maior existimandus sit.’ In 1659, the Synod of the Walloon Church cut Morus off from celebrating Communion after he failed to respond to accusations of visiting prostitutes and of sodomy. See Van Miert, Humanism in an Age of Science, 84. Conclusion: The Emancipation of Biblical Philology (1590–1670) 235 was published in 1666 by the freethinking Isaac Vossius and a year later by the Amiraldist Jean Daillé. The Prima Scaligerana came out in Saumur in 1669, by then a solidly Remonstrant stronghold.9 Part of Scaliger’s correspondence was published in the 1610 by the Huguenot Casaubon, and in the 1620s by the orthodox Calvinists Revius and Heinsius. In short, the appropriation of Scaliger’s legacy has no clear confessional identity. Biblical philology in the hands of the translators and revisers of the States’ Translation served as a tool to further the Calvinist reformation of the Dutch nation, whereas Hugo Grotius practised biblical philology to further the unification of the strife-riven Christian churches.10 La Peyrère was a biblical critic not because of any coherent, rational philological approach to the Bible, but because he used sound rationalist philological arguments as well as the most wayward non sequiturs and selective reasoning to underpin his millennial theory. Isaac Vossius also acted on an agenda, which involved saving as much from Chinese historical traditions, however profane, as possible. No doubt, he enjoyed challenging his fellow citizens in the Republic of Letters, and maybe he tried to stir up enough dust to keep himself in the sights of the high and mighty, but whatever his plan, it did not follow the path of disinterested biblical philology towards the unsettling of scriptural authority. The outcome of the philological engagement with the Bible was not straightforward and certainly not uniform. Over the course of 150 years, and particularly in the so-called Dutch Golden Age (1590–1670), the results of philological research undertaken by individuals with very different agendas accumulated into an enormous body of historical information. On the basis of this evidence, one could no longer escape the conclusion that the text of the Bible was unstable. That this principally undermined biblical authority is easier to argue theoretically than to prove empirically. Few of the textual-critical variants collected over the course of generations had any truly significant theological consequences. The pericope of the woman taken in adultery was confessionally neutral. In the most obvious case where a textual-critical problem did have consequences, the Comma Johanneum, the interpretations split along confessional fault lines, with Lutherans rejecting it and Catholics accepting it; as for Calvin and his followers, they ‘tended to accept the comma but reduce its theological significance’.11 De Jonge has concluded that until 1650, the results of humanist textual criticism of the New Testament were limited to three outcomes: the authorship of seven of the twenty-seven canonical books in the New Testament was disputed; technical chronology was trusted over the witness of the New Testament in establishing the time in which Jesus acted and preached; and Josephus was

9 Laplanche, L’é c r i t u re , 97. Although the title page of the Prima Scaligerana gives Groningen as place of publication, the work appeared in Saumur. See Delatour, ‘Pour une édition critique’, 420, n. 62. 10 De Jonge, Van Erasmus tot Reimarus, 9. 11 McDonald, Biblical Criticism, 297. 236 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic ascribed greater authority than Mark and Matthew regarding the death of John the Baptist. This critique would not have substantively affected the authority of the New Testament.12 De Jonge’s marking of the year 1650 would suggest that since then, philology did start to have an eroding effect on scriptural authority. Of course, the ‘start’ of such an effect cannot be dated to one year: the image of ‘erosion’ implies a slow but steady process. It also implies a deceptive linearity: on closer inspection there were all sorts of different effects. Jesuits such as Jacques Bonfrère and Martin Delrio early on accepted the idea that the Hebrew Bible had been corrupted shortly after Jerome presented his translation. Denis Pétau concluded that it was impossible to say which of the Hebrew, Greek, or Latin versions of the Bible was correct.13 The fact that Catholics were not bound by the principle of sola scriptura and that a particular, published version was assigned authority, offered space for philologists to engage in biblical philology: the results of their research would have no connection to the authorized text. Hence, it would be teleological to assume that biblical philology inevitably led to the erosion of scriptural authority. External circumstances, such as the strength of ecclesiastical authority to assert itself, could counterbalance such an effect. In Protestant circles, however, enough criticism was aimed at the work of Cappel to suggest that, in the 1640s, scholars were worried that textual variants did jeopardize the authority of the biblical text and that opting for one version or the other would be left to the choice of individual readers. This anxiety grew more pronounced. Characteristically, the Reformed theologian Francis Turretin, in his textbook Institutes (1679), warned against Cappel, as Henk van den Belt paraphrases his objections: If the authentic reading of Scripture must be sought by comparison with the old translations and by our own judgment and critical ability, then the canon of authentic readings is merely what seems appropriate to us. . . . Human reason will be placed in the citadel and regarded as the rule and principium of faith. If conjectural emendations can be made of the sacred text, this damages the certainty of the authentic text and makes everything doubtful and subjected to the judgment of every individual interpreter.14 Yet, this is not an argument against textual criticism by means of comparison of manuscript evidence. It is primarily a warning against emendation on the basis of non-Hebrew texts and against conjectural emendation. But we have seen Courcelles giving variant readings with the explicit purpose of letting the reader choose for himself. By the end of the 1650s, not just the Greek text, but also the variants, were ‘in everybody’s hands’.

12 De Jonge, Van Erasmus tot Reimarus, 8. 13 Nothaft, ‘Noah’s Calendar’, 210. 14 Van den Belt, ‘Autopistia’, 181. Conclusion: The Emancipation of Biblical Philology (1590–1670) 237

Individual variants could usually be explained away. But the sum of evidence made it hard to escape the conclusion that the transmission of the biblical text had been the work of mortal men, and men not continuously or systematically assisted by God’s providence. Variants were collected by comparing manuscripts and different translations of the Bible. Such comparisons inevitably led to theories about the authority of different translations. Discussing translations slowly became normal practice in biblical scholarship and was well established by the middle of the seventeenth century. Besides discussions pertaining to textual criticism and linguistic analyses, there appeared antiquarian studies of the material culture of the biblical world: visualizations of Noah’s Ark, reconstructions of the Temple of Jerusalem or the Ark of the Covenant, studies of the technicalities of Jewish rituals, of customs of hair dressing, of the locality of natural phenomena and human laws, etc. Linguistic, historical, and antiquarian discussions of the Bible were normalized as ways of engaging with Sacred Scripture. These discussions did not supersede theological arguments, but took their place beside them. The development took place openly, as far as the Dutch Republic is concerned, in the period 1640–1670, i.e., in the three decades leading up to the publication of Spinoza’s Tractatus theologico-politicus. The fact that Scaliger’s two students Daniel Heinsius and Hugo Grotius, the most brilliant Greek philologists of their generation in the United Provinces, ended up the opposite camps of Reformed orthodoxy and Remonstrantism, demonstrates that critical philology could be employed to serve divergent agendas. Was biblical philology in principle neutral enough either to be exercised in a confessionally non-partisan way or to be appropriated by anyone as a mere weapon to defend and attack? Or did it have some internal potential, which sooner or later would force its user towards the undermining of any claims to universal authority on behalf of one particular interpretation of the biblical text? Brad Gregory has pointed out that the Protestant principle of sola scriptura, right from the start, led to divergent interpretations by individuals not bound by the authority of ecclesiastical tradition or political agencies. Instead of unifying opposition to Catholicism, the study of God’s Word led to an ‘individual- istic, hermeneutical anarchy’, even if some major players (Luther, Calvin) managed to gain dominance with the backing of magisterial powers.15 ‘Sola ratio has not overcome the problem that stemmed from sola scriptura, but rather replicated it in a secular, rationalist register.’16 Right from the beginning, too, some Protestant reformers saw the problem clearly. Without the assistance of the Holy Spirit, the myriad of individual interpretations would continue to grow and cause ‘an unintended jungle of incompatible truth claims among those who rejected the Roman Church, with

15 Gregory, The Unintended Reformation, 95. 16 ibid., 126. 238 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic no foreseeable likelihood of resolution’.17 Some concluded that even divine guidance did not suffice to interpret God’s Word and that one should not rely on the written Word at all, but only on the direct inspiration of the Holy Spirit. When individuals indeed opened themselves directly to God in order to bypass competing exegetical interpretations, the number of rival sects within Protestantism only increased.18 Another way of getting around the problem of the plurality of opinions once individuals started to appropriate God’s Word on the basis of sola scriptura was to first establish what precisely the words of the Bible were, before discussing what they could mean. But anyone who thought that stabilizing the text of the Bible would lead to uniform interpretations overlooked the causes of the failure to unify. Even if the project of applying humanist philology to God’s Word had led to absolute universal consensus about what was the historically most trustworthy text, competing interpretations would not have disappeared. Different interpretations were usually not prompted by the instability of the text or the lack of insight into the Hebraizing idiosyncrasies of New Testament Greek. They were caused by the numerous contradictions in the biblical text, which exist because the Bible is a conglomeration of texts written over a long period of time in different situations by different people guided by various ideologies. The theory of the promise of philology was misguided from the start, because Protestantism did not emerge primarily from problems in the textual tradition. Instead of contributing to unity, philology only exacerbated the problem, for it revealed the instability of the text and multiplied the interpretations of that text. Very soon after Luther’s act of defiance in 1517, some reformers were already aware of the problem. In 1521, Thomas Müntzer showed himself sceptical of the trustworthiness of the biblical text; Sebastian Franck in 1539 demonstrated the Bible’s incoherence; and the Quaker Samuel Fisher swept the accumulated evidence together, which caused him to turn to the Holy Spirit and the Inward Light without mediation from the Bible.19 These claims to direct inspiration from God followed a familiar pattern: they intensified the problems they were supposed to settle.20 But from Erasmus onwards to a theologian like Gomarus, philology was kept in check by theology, just as history was primarily used by theologians of all parties to reinforce their own confessional identities.21 Discussing a remark from 1648 by Rivet that apart from some minor and not very essential variants, the text of the New Testament had been kept intact without corruption, Henk Jan de Jonge observed: the confidence in the current text, fed by religious scruples, was not yet sufficiently put to the test. Apparently, many more variants first had to be collected and published before the idea could take hold that the Textus Receptus should not be

17 ibid., 100. 18 ibid., 101. 19 ibid., 103 and 106. 20 ibid., 105. 21 Levitin, ‘From Sacred History to the History of Religion’, 1144. Conclusion: The Emancipation of Biblical Philology (1590–1670) 239

patched up with some readings from editions based on equally dubious texts, but should be entirely abandoned.22 Only those who aspired to shift the parameters of theology, as Grotius did when he asked both Catholics and Protestants to set aside part of their principles, could provide a new space for philology. The most radical paradigm shift would have been the removal of theology from the field of philology altogether, but for Grotius, that went too far.

SOCIOECONOMIC POSITIONS

Whether the unsettling potential in philology manifested itself or not depended, then, on the agendas of those who engaged in it. But these agendas, in turn, were to a certain extent conditioned by the socioeconomic circumstances of individual scholars. There was no such thing as disembodied biblical philology. As we have seen, Scaliger refused to publish his annotations on the New Testament because he feared the reaction of his fellow Calvinists. As he wrote to one correspondent: I do not dare to touch holy matters, to avoid the impression of distorting them if I seem to have said too much or too little. For in whichever of the two ways I would sin, the enemies of the truth will have sufficient pretext to let their impudence be aroused. And so I refrain from such a risky game, for even in dealing with amusing trifles, I have not been able to escape the virulence of these deadly spirits.23 As the equivalent of a modern-day honorary research professor, Scaliger wielded some influence at Leiden University (witness his recommendation of certain candidates for professorial chairs or his attempts to oust Ramism from the curriculum). He fully subscribed to the orthodox Calvinism upheld by Leiden University and he regarded both Jacob Arminius and Franciscus Gomarus as great theologians. Although scholars in Paris encouraged him to publish his annotations on the New Testament, he refused to do so.24 Criticism from Catholic and Protestants scholars alike had not kept him, as noted above, from openly advancing the idea that there had been Egyptian kings in a time when the world, according to the biblical text, had not yet been created. There appears not to have been any specific pressure on Scaliger to refrain from publishing his biblical-critical notes. It was Scaliger himself who drew the line. He did so partly because he sought to avoid conflict with his co-religionists, and we

22 De Jonge, De bestudering, 23–4. 23 Scaliger to Martinus Lydius, 20 November 1600, in Scaliger, The Correspondence, vol. 3, 528, ll. 18–22. See also the quotation above the preface of this book. 24 Van Miert, ‘The Limits of Transconfessional Contact’, 391–2. 240 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic can only speculate that this independent-minded genius internally struggled with the consequences of his own philological observations. Although the Troubles of the Twelve Years’ Truce did not concern biblical philology in the historico-philological sense, they did show that crossing the boundaries of faith as a professed member of the Calvinist establishment was risky: Hugo Grotius was imprisoned in 1618 on account of it. Other biblical critics subscribed fully to the Canons of the Synod of Dordrecht and felt absolutely no need to jeopardize Calvinist orthodoxy. In the 1620s and 1630s, the translators and revisers of the States’ Translation were very well aware of what was at stake, and they deliberated for months on end about the precise wordings to use in the marginal annotations to the new standard Dutch version. The Autographon shows the discussions among the translators and revisers with regard to specific variants and doctrinal interpretations. Among the revisers was Franciscus Gomarus, an accomplished Hebraist and ardent defender of orthodoxy. Even this Calvinist leader was subjected to control, as became clear in 1640, when two ministers complained that a disputation presided over by Gomarus expounded an interpretation of predestination that was not in accordance with the Synod of Dordrecht. The translators and revisers were obviously anxious not merely to remain within, but to actually re-establish, the boundaries of orthodox Reformed faith. The States’ Translation was to be the touchstone in future discussions. Daniel Heinsius was likewise embedded within the system of Dutch Calvinism. As a secretary of the delegates of the States General at the Synod of Dordrecht, he emphatically sided with the Counter-Remonstrants and situated himself in the orthodox Calvinist camp. As a famed university professor, a brilliant Latin poet, and the self-proclaimed but uncrowned successor to Scaliger, he attracted students from all over Europe, who came to hear the great man whose Latin poems had seduced them like the songs of the Sirens (only to be disappointed to find out that Heinsius did not lecture that often, due to his heavy drinking).25 Heinsius was a sharp critic if ever there was one. He may have even reflected more deeply on the foundations of the art of criticism than his master Scaliger had done. Yet he thought it wise to refrain from even tinkering with the biblical text in the popular Bible editions issued by the Elzevir press. Heinsius was more a linguistic commentator on the New Testament, criticizing Beza’s Latin translation, than a scholar who studied the biblical text by scrutinizing manuscripts.26 He discussed at length his biblical notes with his senior colleague, the professor of theology Constantin L’Empereur, who made sure Heinsius did not wan-

25 On the influence of Heinsius on German poetry, see Aurnhammer, ‘Heinsius und die Anfänge der deutschen Barockdichtung’. For the anecdote, see, e.g., Otterspeer, Groepsportret, 312; and Grafton, ‘Civic Humanism and Scientific Scholarship’, 126. 26 De Jonge, ‘The “Manuscriptus Evangeliorum antiquissimus” ’, 293. Conclusion: The Emancipation of Biblical Philology (1590–1670) 241 der beyond the boundaries of orthodox Calvinist faith.27 The academic setting in which he earned a living ensured that there would be no collateral corruption of biblical authority. L’Empereur thought Heinsius had occasionally been too libertine, and so Heinsius had to placate some of the anxieties of his colleague. The alterations he made usually concerned the Hebrew meaning or Hebrew backgrounds to the words in the Bible. Although most of the theological ‘corrections’ suggested by L’Empereur were ignored by Heinsius, he proved unwilling to stretch biblical philology far enough to make it radical. Instead, he polemicized about the nature of New Testament Greek. Heinsius’s erstwhile friend from youth, Hugo Grotius, poses an altogether different case. He served the city of Rotterdam and the States of Holland in various positions before the States General imprisoned him in 1618 on account of his support of the Arminian faction, at the moment when the States sided with the Counter-Remonstrant faction. Grotius had little motivation to listen to orthodox ministers, Gomarist theologians, and anti-Arminian representatives of the State. After his spectacular escape in a book chest from his prison at Loevestein Castle in 1621, he survived in Paris by writing books. Subjected to neither the regimen of academia or the demands of state bureaucracy, he found himself in a space where ultramontane Italians, Gallican French Nationalists, Swedish Lutherans, Anglican Englishmen, and Dutch Calvinists and Arminians had all found shelter. It might well have been his exile that led him to adopt biblical philology as a tool to show that no individual could claim exclusive exegetical truth. The Catholic King Louis XIII of France had promised Grotius an allow- ance, but since it seems to have been conditioned on Grotius’s conversion, it proved difficult to have the money paid out.28 He finally became ambassador in the service of Sweden in 1634. The Lutheran Queen Christina apparently had no objection to having an Arminian ambassador in a Catholic capital. As a dip- lomat in the pluri-confessional high society of international diplomacy, Grotius had to reckon with political machinations and denominational subtleties. What was paramount for Christina was not the particular confession of her Parisian ambassador, but rather her concern that Habsburg dominance would not remain unchallenged. Grotius’s ecumenical ideas happened to dovetail nicely with the exigencies of Swedish raison d’état. In his Annotationes we see how philology challenged universal claims of a particular confessional interpretation. It is precisely his undermining of claims to exclusivity that can be labelled as a type of secularization. What was at stake was not Christianity itself, but confessionalization by means of churches and thought control. For Grotius, the Bible continued to teach moral guidelines for a devout Christian

27 Van Rooden, Constantijn L’Empereur, 135–41. See chapter 4, section 4.2, ‘Heinsius’s Biblical Philology’, ‘Textual Criticism’, n. 41. 28 Nellen, Hugo de Groot, 271–5. 242 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic life, and it would do so with greater force if the Bible were cleansed of the narrow-minded interpretations forced upon it by those who had no grasp of language and history. Unlike Heinsius, Grotius was not subjected to the discipline of Leiden University, let alone to its Faculty of Theology. Still, Grotius hesitated for a long time before finishing and publishing his Annotationes. Although he was a dip- lomat, his Annotationes were, as was everything theological printed in France, subject to the approval of the theological professors of the Sorbonne. He promised the great Catholic authority Denis Pétau that he would change whatever Pétau objected to. Grotius envied the freedom of his brother Willem in Holland, who never managed to procure a public office. It was far better to be a free man as a lawyer, he thought, than to be enlisted in State service. But Grotius overestimated the freedom of the Remonstrants in Holland: when Willem tried to secure an official post, he was turned down on account of his Remonstrantism.29 Grotius, in his controversy with Rivet, hoped that Vossius or Barlaeus would jump in to refute Rivet.30 That he counted on the support of these two old friends shows how utterly Grotius misjudged the situation: his self-confidence blinded him to the reality of the positions and interests of Vossius and Barlaeus, professors both at the Illustrious School of Amsterdam. Barlaeus had steered clear of religious controversy for more than two decades and had focused on his teaching, trying to avoid his long periods of ‘melancholy’. Moreover, he regularly composed occasional poetry in praise of the stadholder Frederick Henry, something Grotius had been well aware of two years earlier, when he thought it wise not to entrust the draft of his work to Barlaeus’s son, due to Barlaeus’s attachment to the prince.31 Vossius was afraid to compromise the carefully balanced position he had diplomatically built for himself ever since the Synod of Dordrecht. Nevertheless, he expressed in a letter to Grotius his wish that a response would soon be drawn up against those who had unleashed their wrath on Grotius and were twisting his carefully phrased words.32 Not only in his former home country did Grotius misjudge the situation. He also underestimated the religious Realpolitik in France. The favourable

29 Huybrecht, ‘Groot, Willem de’. 30 Grotius to W. de Groot, 23 May 1643, in Grotius, Briefwisseling, vol. 14, 278, no. 6224, postscript: ‘Spero aliquem repertum iri qui Riveto aliquid reponat et obiter aspergat Borboritam. Age, quaeso, cum Vossio et Barlaeo ut cogitent.’ Grotius to J. Uytenbogaert, 12 March 1644, in ibid., vol. 15, 214, no. 6755, postscript: ‘Ick zal mijn best doen om oock te doen drucken ’tgunt ick geschreven heb op de reste van het Nieuwe, ende daernae noch iet tot wederlegging van ’t laeste boeck van Rivet.’ 31 Grotius to W. de Groot, 13 April 1641, in ibid., vol. 12, 220, no. 5141, postscript: ‘Barlaeus principi addictior est quam ut filio eius mea arcana credam.’ 32 G. J. Vossius to Grotius, 9 August 1643, in ibid., vol. 14, 460, no. 6358: ‘… vellem non tantas moras necti ab eo qui responsurus sit illis sic irarum habenas in Excellentiam tuam effundentibus optimeque etiam dicta in deteriorem rapientibus partem; qui nihil aeque audiunt inviti, quam quod medicina dicitur modum excessisse.’ Conclusion: The Emancipation of Biblical Philology (1590–1670) 243 responses he received from the French side were in response not to his ecumenical programme, but to his reaching out to the Catholic Church in such a way that it was thought he might convert. Grotius also miscalculated the favour of his Swedish employer. While he was convinced that his biblical philology served the interests of Sweden by paving the way for a unification of the churches, Christina started to fear that his work was distracting him from his duties as ambassador of the Swedish Crown in Paris.33 The energy which Grotius invested in religious debates and biblical philology in the 1640s began to raise eyebrows in Sweden: surely Grotius neglected his diplomatic responsi- bilities by producing what amounted to three-and-a-half weighty folio volumes, crammed with biblical annotations and reasonings regarding the Bible, within the space of half a decade, along with a dozen pamphlets on religious politics and the origin of the native American peoples.34 Grotius, then, was not an entirely free man; but he was at least not subject to the religious control of an order, a council, or a synod, and he was beyond the reach of confessional disciplinary measures. If he was bound by anything at all, it was not so much the censorship of the Sorbonne but rather his own ideals of Christian unity, which oriented his biblical philology towards the development of historical arguments as a basis for ecumenical unification. This would explain why Grotius, much more so than Heinsius, could suggest alternative readings in the biblical text. He tried to reconstruct the way the text would have functioned in its historical setting, and turned away from dogmatic principles which most of his contemporaries read into the Bible. The Annotationes showed that the biblical text was difficult and open to different interpretations, which were each dogmatically defensible. Whereas Daniel Heinsius submitted to the Canons of the Dutch Reformed Church, which delineated the boundaries of orthodox Calvinist belief, Grotius sought to play down those very boundaries in an attempt to unify the churches on the basis of a minimal credo: a general set of theological principles. These could be founded only on a historical grasp of the biblical text, for only such an understanding yielded information on the state of affairs of the Church in ancient times. Only that ancient situation could figure as a unifying model for the churches of Grotius’s own time.35 Neither Heinsius nor Grotius, however, was forced to adopt the religious- political positions they took. Heinsius could have refused to be secretary of the

33 Grotius to W. de Groot, 13 October 1640, in ibid., vol. 11, 563, no. 4876: ‘Spero in Suedia non nocituram mihi talem scribendi libertatem. Tum vero Dei causam agentes praesidium a Deo sperare debent.’ Van Unnik, ‘Hugo Grotius’, 177; De Jonge, ‘Grotius as an interpreter’, 59. 34 The first three volumes of the Opera omnia contain Grotius’s Annotationes on the Bible; half of the fourth and last volume is filled with smaller tracts, half of which were written in the 1640s. Vol. 2 (part II.1) contains the annotations on the Gospels and was written largely before 1640, but even that volume Grotius worked on during the 1640s, seeing it through the press and afterwards translating all the Greek and Hebrew in it, and managing the preparations for a second edition. 35 De Jonge, ‘Hugo Grotius: exégète’, 114–15. 244 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic lay delegation of the States General at the Synod of Dordrecht; Grotius could have accepted the restraints that conditioned the States General’s offer for him to return to Holland. The character of their biblical exegesis differed not only because of the different levels of restraint posed by each of their social situations, but also on account of their political convictions—and these were a matter of choice. Isaac de La Peyrère was likewise not subjugated to the discipline of any institution. As the Huguenot secretary of the old prince de Condé and subsequently of his son, the Grand Condé, both Catholics, La Peyrère enjoyed more freedom than a university professor would have done.36 He even had more freedom than Grotius, for although La Peyrère acted as the secretary to the French envoy for two years, he was not an ambassador like Grotius, who faced objections from his employer, most likely because he seemed to transgress the boundaries of a general Protestantism. In La Peyrère’s case, politics rather than moral interests acted as a stimulus for radical criticism. During the Fronde, he stood by his master and developed his millenarian views of France’s future role in ruling the entire world. La Peyrère has been credited with advancing radical criticism of the biblical text. But although his reading was not motivated by doctrinal prejudices, his interpretation was accompanied by a prejudiced a priori agenda. Chiliastic visions, not textual emendations, ultimately led him to a radical interpretation of Romans 5:12–13. La Peyrère made full use of this freedom, as we have seen. Even when he subjected himself to a new, Catholic discipline, he managed to exploit every bit of space to expound his pre-Adamite theory. Isaac Vossius, who attacked La Peyrère with theories only slightly less controversial, was also not incorporated into any of the systems of control. He refused the invitation to succeed his father as a professor of history at the Amsterdam Illustrious Athenaeum (after his father’s death in 1649) for fear of losing the freedom he enjoyed as an independent scholar.37 For more than twenty years Vossius received a salary from the States of Holland on the condition that he write the history of Holland and Zeeland, which was ultimately retracted when he failed to deliver.38 His pension from Louis XIV was meant to stimulate him to present studies that would serve the French monarch’s policies in a practical way, but his failure to deliver here as well seems not to have caused the withholding of this allow- ance.39 We do not know if his Windsor prebendary was conditioned in any way, but at least it was not denied him, even if this rebel without a cause made for amusingly idiosyncratic company and did not object to his reputation as an athe- ist. Astrid Balsem has shown that Vossius earned at least part of his income by buying and selling books.40 This would have helped him to remain independent.

36 Popkin, Isaac La Peyrère, 12; Grafton, ‘Isaac La Peyrère and the Old Testament’, 205; and Jorink, ‘Horrible and Blasphemous’; on La Peyrère, see also Livingstone, Adam’s Ancestors, 26–51. 37 Van Miert, Humanism in an Age of Science, 78. 38 Davids, ‘In the Shadow of the Jesuits’, 199. 39 Jorink, ‘In the Twilight Zone’, 143–4. 40 Balsem, ‘Collecting the Ultimate Scholar’s Library’, 294. Conclusion: The Emancipation of Biblical Philology (1590–1670) 245

More independent than any of these scholars—in fact so independent that he was expelled from a religious community and never again belonged to any defined confession or religious denomination—was Spinoza. Spinoza seems to have longed for solitude in order to be able to concentrate on his work.41 His exile from Amsterdam and from the Jewish community not only allowed him to avoid social distractions, but also made him an intellectually free man, for whom no religious community felt responsible. Spinoza famously turned down a chair at Heidelberg, and he did so for the same reasons Isaac Vossius had done so at Amsterdam. Like other scholars discussed in this book, Spinoza was propelled to radical biblical philology not by the internal logic of textual criticism itself, no matter how efficiently he wielded its tools to discredit the authority of the Bible. It was rather his radical philosophy that acted as a framework within which biblical philology could finally manifest its most radical potential. The potential clash between biblical philology and theology came to the fore most saliently within academic contexts, where philologists worked alongside theologians. The detachment of philology from theology, its emancipation from the role of maidservant to theology, was felt to be far more problematic within an academic context than outside it. Learned discourse outside the academies was conducted in several spheres. First, there was the private sphere of face-to- face conversation behind closed doors, among scholars, friends, and students. Scaliger’s table talk and the discussions among the translators and revisers of the States’ Translation took place in the private sphere. It is neither possible nor desirable to separate this ‘private sphere’ completely from the more sociable, semi-private sphere of the salons, where La Peyrère, for example, explained his outrageous theory and had his manuscripts circulated. The contacts between scholars, who communicated by means of letters and among whom the letters of third parties were often copied out and passed around, can likewise be characterized as a semi-private sphere. Then there was the public sphere of the market- ing and circulation of published works. Publishing brought a work into a legally framed public domain. All such spheres were part of the Republic of Letters, but not of academia. It was in this semi-public sphere of the Republic of Letters that ‘philology was regarded as valuable in its own right without always being subjected to the more rigorous jurisdiction of academic theology’.42 In short, the way in which biblical philology was employed depended much on the social and economic positions of the philologists themselves, their agendas, and the media they used to disperse their ideas. If we look at individual scholars, there was no straightforward relation between biblical philology and the desacralization of the Bible.

41 Nadler, Spinoza, 181. 42 Hardy, ‘Impartiality’, 301. 246 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic

FASHIONING BIBLICAL PHILOLOGY

Another conclusion one can draw from the cases put forward in this study is that biblical philology developed into a very important field of intellectual enterprise over the course of the seventeenth century. This was due in part to the opportunities it afforded for the study of Near Eastern languages. Oriental studies became highly fashionable in the first half of the seventeenth century, and not only in the Dutch Republic. As the Cambridge printer Roger Daniel wrote to Heinsius in 1646, ‘These days, oriental languages are particularly hot all over Britain.’43 Noel Malcolm has shown that the question of Mosaic authorship of the Pentateuch became more widely discussed in the 1640,44 and so did the textual and historical study of the biblical text in general. During the 1640s, one could speak of biblical criticism as the most fashionable current in philology, so widely practised was textual biblical criticism, along with the linguistic analysis, chronological study and conjecture, and historical contextualization of the things told in the Bible. This sort of philology was not necessarily exercised by radical thinkers. On the contrary, men like Scaliger, Heinsius, and the translators of the States’ Translation played a major, if sometimes indirect, role in the diffusion of biblical philology. So did Hugo Grotius—a rebel by the standards of many orthodox Calvinists, but obviously not as radical a critic as Isaac de La Peyrère, or as iconoclastic a figure as Isaac Vossius. From the academic setting in which biblical philology was practised by Scaliger and the semi-public sphere in which it was discussed in his letters and conversations, it conquered the space outside the Republic of Letters in the 1640s and 1650s, when scholarly arguments in Latin over philology, linguistics, and history spilled over into sermons and satires in the vernacular, and when it began to appear on the university curriculum. Overlapping with the interest in biblical philology was the study of geography and chronology. Geography was, as we have seen, of paramount importance in the discussions of the origin of native Americans and of the genealogy of other peoples on the earth. The great Amsterdam printers of atlases provided the necessary means to engage in it. Anthony Grafton has taught us that technical chronology was continuously on the philological agenda during the first half of the seventeenth century.45 We have seen that Saumaise occupied himself with chronology in his De annis climactericis and that La Peyrère did much to intensify

43 R. Daniel to D. Heinsius, in Heinsius, Crepundia Siliana, sig. A2r: ‘tum vero linguarum inprimis Orientalium, quibus incaluit hodie tota Britannia’. 44 Malcolm, Aspects of Hobbes, 398. 45 Grafton, ‘Isaac Vossius, Chronologer’, 45–50. Conclusion: The Emancipation of Biblical Philology (1590–1670) 247 the debate over the age of the world.46 It was the wide diffusion of the discussion of biblical history and the history of the Bible’s text that forced theologians and philologists to relocate the focus of theological discussion to the philology of the Bible. Malcolm has generalized in the case of the theories of Mosaic authorship: as so often seems to be the case in the history of ideas, the advance of radical heterodoxy came about not by means of a frontal assault on the orthodox tradition, but through a more complicated and opportunistic judo-like manoeuvre, in which the impetus set up by the orthodox thinkers played its own role.47 Biblical philology was a game with various players, not all of whom seemed to represent any particular party or group, but whose confrontations developed this field as a whole and planted it firmly on the research agenda. This development was not limited to the Dutch Republic. By the 1640s, John Selden in England had long positioned himself as the biblical antiquarian par excellence. In Germany the elder Johannes Buxtorf had published a ‘masoretic commentary’ in 1620, to prove that even in the time of Jesus the Hebrew text had been pointed, a thesis refuted by the Huguenot Louis Cappel in 1624, defended in 1648 by the younger Johannes Buxtorf, and refuted again by Arnold Bootius in 1650. In France, meanwhile, Guy Michel Lejay published the Parisian Polyglot (1645). Although it lacked the critical apparatus that had made the older Antwerp Polyglot a profoundly useful scholarly instrument, it included the first ever printed edition of the Samaritan Pentateuch, with its Samaritan Targum, by the Oratorian Jean Morin, who preferred the Septuagint to the Hebrew Masoretic text. It also contained the editio princeps of the Old Testament in Syriac and of the entire Bible in Arabic.48 Samuel Bochart brought out his Geographia sacra seu Phaleg et Canaan in two volumes (1646), and Cappel published, in his Critica sacra of 1650, lists of textual variants in the extant copies of the Hebrew Bible, and of variants between the Old Testament and quotations of the Old Testament in the New Testament and among translations of the Bible, a work which he defended a year later against criticism by James Ussher.49 In 1657, Jean Morin published the variant readings of the Samaritan Pentateuch, which he had kept out of his edition of this text in the Paris Polyglot.50 The theories which undermined the stability of the biblical text were, clearly, not left

46 See Allen, The Legend of Noah, 86–91; Klempt, Die Säkularisierung der unversalhistorischen Auffassung, 90–6; Rossi, The Dark Abyss, 132–6; Weststeijn, ‘Spinoza Sinicus’; Quennehen, ‘À propos des Préadamites’, which discusses the whereabouts of two proto-versions of La Peyrère’s Praeadamitae, one of which was copied out in March 1644; Quennehen, ‘Un nouveau manuscript des Préadamites’; Poole, ‘Seventeenth-Century Preadamism’. 47 Malcolm, Aspects of Hobbes, 411. 48 Schenker, ‘The Polyglot Bibles’, 780. 49 For a synopsis of the contents of Cappel’s Critica sacra, see Laplanche, L’é c r i t u r e , 229–44. See also Malcolm, Aspects of Hobbes, 418–20. For the rebuttal of Ussher, see Cappel, De critica nuper a se edita. 50 Schenker, ‘The Polyglot Bibles’, 780. 248 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic unanswered, but the adversaries intensified a philological discourse on the Bible which took up so much space that radicals such as La Peyrère found room to explore the borders and venture into new, unorthodox territories. It is impossible to identify a critical point or designate a particular time when the authority of Scripture suffered most from the increasing evidence of its textual instability. The evidence was built up over decades and the process was slow. Arguing about the textual tradition and the historical context of the Bible became a leading academic field of research. This is noticeable from the contents of academic disputations. It was in the 1650s that the adjective ‘philologicus’ started to be used in the titles of disputations, a sign of the spread of philology both as a method and as a concept. The radical biblical philology of La Peyrère seems to have forced his opponents to take a stand in their teaching and to train their students not merely in dogmatic theology, but also in the history of the Bible. While in the 1590s disputations had served to infuse students with anti- Catholic arguments, and in the 1610s and 1620s they had formed a platform for the intraconfessional dispute on predestination, the disputations of the 1640s in Utrecht and Leiden were the most important medium for the Cartesian War and were gradually used in the Hairy War. But the 1650s saw the rise of disputations arguing against radical biblical philology. Time and again, disputations served as the threshold between the debates of an academic community and broader controversies within society, conducted through printed treatises and pamphlets, either in Latin or the vernacular (Dutch or French). Disputations, defended in a semi-public environment before an audience of students and professors, but also preachers and student family members, bridged academia and the sphere of public debate.51 The spill over of biblical philology into disputations marks its transition from a research area to a part of the educational curriculum: biblical philology had now become a mainstream academic subject. But biblical philology also spread beyond academia. In the Dutch Republic, it was in the 1640s and 1650s that the accretion of evidence about the Bible, and the arguing about it in a non-theological, nondogmatic way, started to be transferred from Latin to the vernacular. In those decades, polemics about historical questions were fought not in Latin treatises for the few, but in vernacular pamphlets for the many, with results that were available to a non-academic readership. Of course, there were limits to freedom of speech. There was a general consensus that La Peyrère’s ideas were heretical. Yet, his methods were rooted in standard philological practice, the principles of which the majority of scholars subscribed to. But whereas La Peyrère applied these inconsistently and erro- neously, Spinoza was a harder nut to crack due to his sound philological reasoning. The 1640s were so important because there was turmoil about much more than just the Bible: the ‘discussion culture’ was not just part of the fabric of the

51 See Van Miert, ‘The Disputation Hall’. Conclusion: The Emancipation of Biblical Philology (1590–1670) 249

Dutch administrative bodies as Frijhof and Spies argue, but was also noticeable in public debate, evidenced by a dramatic rise of pamphlets, unseen since the Troubles of the Twelve Years’ Truce three decades earlier.52 Political discussions about the negotations of the Treaty of Westphalia, the execution of Charles I, King of England,53 the rise of Cartesianism at the universities of Utrecht and Leiden, disagreement over the use of the organ during church services, over the way a Christian society should handle interest and usury, over men with long hair, all stirred the pens of people with pronounced opinions. After a political crisis, the Stadholderless Period (1650–1672) inaugurated a period in which those favourable to what was then often called the ‘Loevestein’ faction, had the upper hand in public life. This faction was associated with a variety of latitudinarian currents of political and religious thought which were not always compatible but which were conceptualized by Orthodox reformed orangists as liberal: Remontrantism, Erastianism, Erasmism, republicanism, oligarchism, pragma- tism, and economism. It was the perfect atmosphere for the emancipation of biblical philology. In the process of refuting heretical conclusions based on philological reasoning, the lines of thought leading to those conclusions were rehearsed and explained. Through this process, momentum was built up for the spread of ideas that deviated from orthodoxy through official channels such as disputations, treatises, and sermons. After La Peyrère’s book appeared in no fewer than five issues in 1655, it was often refuted, and La Peyrère himself cleverly ensured that his name remained on the agenda by explaining his theory in a public apology which denounced it at the same time. La Peyrère was, as an individual, perhaps incapable of making his ideas salonfähig, even though they were ini- tially tested precisely on the members and correspondents of the Cabinet Dupuy in the early 1640s.54 The intervention of a scholar such as Isaac Vossius, who was less heretical than La Peyrère but still challenged the limits of what was acceptable, led to La Peyrère’s name cropping up continuously in the debates about biblical chronology. Vossius was also the man who, as Anthony Grafton has observed, helped, as La Peyrère had, to transform chronology from an esoteric, demanding pursuit for the erudite into a subject for argument in much wider social and cultural circles. He made his own main interventions into chronology not with massive treatises like those that Scaliger and Petau, and for that matter his father, had written, but with pamphlets the first of which was even translated into Dutch.55 Vossius’s work was, as Scott Mandelbrote has noted, ‘deliberately controversial, a pamphlet rather than a learned treatise’, and because it was ‘viciously

52 Van Otegem, ‘Tijd, snelheid, afstand’, 57. 53 See Helmers, The Royalist Republic. 54 See Van Miert and Nellen, ‘Media en tolerantie’. 55 Grafton, ‘Isaac Vossius, Chronologer’, 83–4. 250 The Emancipation of Biblical Philology in the Dutch Republic attacked by traditionalist critics, especially those with associations with Leiden University’, it attracted ‘international attention’.56 Vossius’s arguments for the supremacy of the Septuagint over the Hebrew text were sometimes interpreted as an attack on the very possibility of a stable text of the Bible. It was Edward Pococke, the great English scholar of Arabic and Hebrew, who remarked in February 1680: I have not so much as seen Vossius’s Tract of his Sibyls, and such others as are with it; but I am told, that he speaks therein Things that are derogatory to Rabbinical Learning (but that matters not much, as for other Things) and particularly (which is magis dolendum) to bring Disrespect and Contempt on the Hebrew Bible; and all authoritative [i.e., of Vossius’s own authority], without good Proof or Reason: And I hear, that by some at Coffee-Meetings, it is cried up. It may be suspected, that the Intention is to bring it into Doubt, whether we have any such Thing, as a true Bible at all, which we may confide in, as God’s Word.57 It is striking to read that the authority of the Hebrew text would have been discussed in coffeehouses, the exemplary spaces of a nascent public sphere.58 This burgeoning public sphere played an important role in the rise of biblical philology. Even if the opponents of heretical ideas had far better opportunities to publish refutations than La Peyrère and Spinoza had to respond to them, the numerous refutations had the paradoxical effect of keeping their ideas in the public eye. The Tractatus theologico-politicus itself was banned and hard to obtain, but through its numerous refutations, knowledge of Spinoza’s arguments soon became widespread. This was also one of the accusations levelled at Richard Simon: he claimed to refute heresies, but in doing so, he expounded too much of La Peyrère, Spinoza, and Hobbes.59 Whereas with Scaliger, the type of biblical philology which potentially unsettled scriptural authority had been limited to the private sphere or was scattered far and wide over large, uninviting tomes of Latin and Greek learning, with much Arabic and even other Near Eastern languages thrown into them, Daniel Heinsius, enjoying European-wide fame as one of the most fashionable philologists around, argued for the freedom to list variant readings, even if he disapproved of making changes to the Textus Receptus. In the meantime, the States’ Translation used biblical philology to stabilize the text, even if the translators were sometimes forced to admit that the meaning of some words

56 Mandelbrote, ‘Isaac Vossius and the Septuagint’, 94. 57 ibid., 102, citing Leonard Twells, ed., The Theological Works of the Learned Dr. Pocock, 2 vols (London: for the editor, 1740), vol. 1, first page counting, 74. 58 Note that Jürgen Habermas speaks of a bourgeois public sphere, constituted by private persons society coming together to criticize the powers that be. Scholars of the seventeenth century have seen precursor public spheres in seventeenth-century England (McKeon, ‘Parsing Habermas’s “Bourgeois Public Sphere”’) or even in the sixteenth-century Netherlands (Bloemendal and Van Dixhoorn, ‘De scharpheit van een gladde tong’). 59 Malcolm, Aspects of Hobbes, 386. Conclusion: The Emancipation of Biblical Philology (1590–1670) 251 was fundamentally ambiguous or that words were problematic from a textual- critical point of view. Grotius not long afterwards capitalized on the growing popularity of biblical philology, and while he was publishing his philological works, he simultaneously worked on his religious-political campaign. While he was waging his polemics with Rivet in The Hague, the Dutch Republic was rocked by the antiquarian discussion over what the Bible had to say about men with long hair. In the meantime, insiders learned of the heretical ideas of La Peyrère, which circulated among the transconfessional Cabinet Dupuy in Paris and beyond. When La Peyrère went public in 1655, this marked the beginning of merely another phase in the rise of biblical philology. Particularly in the second half of that decade, biblical philology was spread through pamphlets and treatises attacking pre-Adamism, but there were many other issues sur- rounding biblical translation and interpretation that kept the presses running. The march of biblical philology through the public sphere continued in the next decade. As we have seen, theological and historical debates intensified in the years leading up to the publication of Spinoza’s Tractatus theologico- politicus. And so, when Spinoza touched on the biblical text and history in the Treatise, he was treading on ground familiar to an entire generation of polemi- cists, experienced in academic disputations and public pamphleteering on the history and authority of the Bible. Biblical philology had not only intensified, it had also emancipated itself from the institutional constraints of church and university, which were unable to exercise control over the various conclusions which people independently drew from biblical philology in order to support their visions of politics and society. Yet there was something uniquely radical to Spinoza. This radicality grew from his philosophy, not from his philology. Spinoza borrowed his methods from generations of philologists who had engaged with biblical scholarship; their works contributed to the intellectual conflicts of his day that swirled around the issue of biblical authority. The conclusions Spinoza reached were more radical than anyone before him had dared to draw. His radicalism appears as something categorically different from what had preceded it, but so did, to many of their contemporaries, the heresies of a Socinus, a La Peyrère, a Hobbes, a Lodewijk Meijer, an Adriaan Koerbagh, and a Balthasar Bekker. Radical biblical philology was not only in the air before Spinoza. It was in print as well. It resounded from pulpits and in disputation halls. It was written about in private letters and public treatises. It was discussed in synods and salons. There can be no doubt that the thinkers who gave the impulses to such discussions played an important role before Spinoza and after him.

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Abraham 24, 162, 200 Aramaic xvi, 3, 6–7, 20, 32, 54, 60, 63, 66, 72, Abraham Ibn Ezra 87, 89, 202 87, 89, 113, 119–21, 123, 125, 158, 160, accommodation xix, 10 178, 200 n. 31, 202 Adam 80, 174, 193, 195–7, 199 n. 31, 200, Arias Montano, Benito xviii, 7, 180–1, 218 203–4, 207–9, 244; see also Aristarchus of Samothrace 106 pre-Adamites Aristophanes 35, 148, 156 adiaphora 142, 167 Aristotle 15, 16 n. 75, 16, 65, 106, 131, 157, 223 adultery, woman taken in, see Index Locorum Aristotelianism 15, 16 Biblicorum, John 7:53–8:11 Aristotelian xix, 15, 16 n. 75, 64 n. 61, Albertine Agnes 227 218, 232 Albigenses/-ian 42 Arius 116 Alexander the Great 106 Arianist/-ism 72 n. 101, 227 Alexandria 32 Ark of the Covenant 40, 237 Library 4 Arminian 53, 56, 57, 61, 62, 70, 71, 73, 77, 81, Sea of 31 104, 129, 227, 241; see also Remonstrant Alting, Henricus 83 Arminianism 12, 51, 55, 56 n. 11, 77 Amama, Sixtinus xv, xvi, 87, 89, Arminius, Jacobus xv, 14, 52, 53–63, 70, 71, 73, 130, 154 76–7, 79, 80, 99, 104, 119, 239 Ambrose 25, 38, 74, 109, 146 Arnhold, Ingrid 47 n. 130 American Indians 187, 203, 218 Arpachshad 30 Ammianus Marcellinus 155 Artaxerxes 30 Ammon 31 Asa 92 Amsterdam 13–4, 15 n. 73, 110, 165 n. 168, 171, Assyria(n) 30, 145, 201 182, 192, 209 n. 72, 228, 233, 244, 246 astrology 198, 200, 201 Illustrious School of 242, 244–5 astronomy-/ical/-er xviii, xix, 23–4, 200, 201, Anabaptist theology 72 222, 223 Anathot 113 Augustine 25, 38, 58, 74, 109, 111, 113, 125, Anglican(ism) xxi, 75, 241 134, 233 Anglican Church/Church of England 55, Aurispa, Giovanni 1 172, 173 authority animal(s) 43–5, 80, 92, 152 ancient 15, 74, 232, 233 animals (metaphorically) 108, 174 of Aristotle 16 Anne of Austria 173 of Beza 119 Antichrist 49, 139–40, 163–4 of Biblical authors 227 antiquarianism xx n. 15,11, 28, 126, 188, 198 Calvinist 194 biblical xiii, xiv, 10, 12, 17, 18, 23, 29, 35, 36, of the Catholic Church/pope 141, 211, 236 38, 41, 45, 47, 48, 59, 60, 65, 93, 100, of Church Fathers 18, 63, 108, 141, 144 105, 126, 134, 188, 189, 195, 197, 213, 214, of confessions 57 227, 237, 247, 250 divine 69 ecclesiastical 2 external 165 of translators 92, 93 of Flavius Josephus 155, 235–6 philological 11 of God 60 anti-Remonstrant, see Counter-Remonstrant of Hebrew Bible 117, 250 anthrax 44 n. 119 of Letter of Aristeas 34 apocryphal 18, 30, 82, 85 n. 42, 93, 101, 113 of OT chronology 12 Aquila of Sinope 112, 116, 187 of NT 42, 155, 157, 236 Arabic xvi, xviii, xxiii, 3, 19, 42 n. 107, 54, 65, of pagan sources 24, 42 104, 126, 131, 134, 136, 144, 146, 149, 157, to interpret the Bible 17 202, 216, 247, 249, 250 papal 7 282 General Index authority (cont.) Bertram, Corneille 49, 124 of philology 10, 71 Bethania (Bethany) 45, 147 political 165–6, 227 Bethulia 30 of reader 214 Beuningen, Coenraad van 228 of Saumaise 201 Beverwijck, Johannes 183 of Scaliger 199–200 Beza, Theodorus xviii, 8–9, 16, 18, 20, 42, 47, scriptural/biblical xiii, xiv, xv, xvii, xix, xxi, 48, 58, 63, 64, 70, 71, 72, 84, 89, 93, 99, 6, 7, 10, 11, 54, 61, 62, 94, 103, 110, 159, 102 n. 101, 104 n. 3, 105, 106, 112, 114, 190, 192, 215, 229, 231–2, 235, 236, 240, 119, 123–5, 127–30, 142, 155, 167, 245, 247, 250, 251; see also sola scriptura 203 n. 51, 217, 240 secular 178 Codex Bezae 71, 9 n. 44 of the Septuagint 18, 34 his edition of NT 1588/1589 9 n. 44, 18, 84, of supreme Christian power 74 89, 93 of recent teachers 74 his other editions of NT 8, 9 n. 44, 18, 47, theological 214 63, 105, 106 of (ecclesiastical) tradition 14, 15, 18, 142, Heinsius’s critique on 64, 119, 123–5, 236, 237 129–30, 240 of translations 237 Scaliger’s critique on 42, 47–8, 63, of the Vulgate 6, 236 123–4 Averroists 212 relation philology-theology 9, 63 Azariah de’ Rossi 34 n. 68 Biblia regia, see Polyglot Bible > Antwerp Bilson, Thomas 75 Babylonian Captivity 158 Bochart, Samuel 12, 247 Babylonians 223 Boderianus, Fabricius 95 Bachmannus, Reinhardus 226–7 Bodleian Library 127 Bacon, Francis 234 Bogerman, Johannes 70, 81, 83–9 Baconian(ism) xix, 201, 232 Boiotians 160 badeloch 44 Bois-le-Duc 179, 192 Balaam 72 Bologna 6 Balsem, Astrid 244 Bombergh, Daniel xviii, 6 Baptist 17 Bonfrère, Jacques 219, 236 Barlaeus, Caspar 242 Book of Nature xix, 43, 44 n. 115 Barnabas 161 Bootius, Arnold 247 Baronio, Cesare xvi, 12, 50, 233 Bordeaux 132 Baroway, Israel 68 Born, Johan van 183 Basel 18, 89, 228 Borstius, Jacob 170 n. 1, 175, 177–8, 183 Basil 108 Bosio, Antonio 188 Baudartius, Willem 70, 80 Bosor 72 Baxter, Richard 165 Bossuet, Jacques-Bénigne 165 bdellium 44 Boulliau, Ismael 225 Beaumont, Joseph 165 Bourignon, Antoinette 228 Bebelius, Ioannes 89 Boxhorn, Marcus Zuerius 132, 183 Becius, Johannes 227 Brenz, Johannes 8 Bedwell, William 104 Broughton, Hugh 16 Beelphegor 44, 45 n. 121 Browne, Thomas 229 Beelzebub 44, 45 n. 121 Bruehl, Clemens 56, 61 Behemoth 45 Bruin, Cebes de 100 Bekker, Balthasar 251 Bruni, Leonardo 1 Bellarmine, Robert 9, 50, 54 n. 2, 57 Brussels 211 Belt, Henk van den 236 Brylinger, Nicolaus 89 Benivieni, Girolamo 212 Bucer, Martin 8 Berakhot, Tractate 160 Bucerus, Gerson 80, 84 Bering Strait 218 Bullinger, Heinrich 8, 41 Bernays, Jacob 22, 24 Bultmann, Christoph 134 n. 3, 166 Beroaldo, Filippo 180 Buxtorf, Johannes (Sr) xvi, 10, 20, 84 n. 34, Berosus 24 n. 13, 154 104, 178, 217 n. 20, 247 General Index 283

Buxtorf, Johannes (Jr) xvi, 10, 20, 68, 84 n. 34, Catholic, see Church > Catholic 104, 154, 217 n. 20, 247 Catullus 35, 48, 65, 221 Byzantine Empire 2 Cephalaeus, Wolfius 214 Byzantine poetry 106 Chaldean chronologies/astronomers 199–201, 223 Cabinet Dupuy, see Dupuy, Cabinet Chaldean language, see Aramaic Cadurcus author (from Cahors, near Charenton 125 Montauban), see Constans de Charles I, king of England 173, 187, 248 Montauban Chasteigner de La Rocheposay, Louis 30 Caen 19 China 224 Caesarea 4 Chinese 200, 203, 222, 223, 224, 235 Caesarius 189–91 Christ, see Jesus Christ Cajetan, Cardinal 9, 69 n. 81, 155 n. 115 Christian Hebraism/-st(s) xvi, 48, 88; Calendars 24, 31, 65 see also Hebrew scholarship Callimachus 106 Christianity 5, 7, 40, 56 n. 11, 141, 142, 144, 159, Calovius, Abraham 164 161, 162, 166, 167, 193, 241 Calvin, John 7, 8, 42, 70 n. 84, 75, 77, 87, 117, Christina, Queen of Sweden 241, 243 119, 177, 182, 235, 237 chronology (biblical/historical) 3, 12, 22, 24, Calvinism xxi, 13, 16, 51, 52, 61, 69, 95, 130, 30, 38, 39, 42, 44, 49, 51–2, 64–5, 82, 142, 175, 186, 195, 215, 239, 240 106–7, 145, 147, 159, 164, 195, 198–200, Calvinist 10, 49, 50, 51, 54, 56, 64, 65, 72 n. 101, 211–12, 213–14, 218, 220–7, 231, 233, 77, 79, 80, 93, 94 n. 69, 98–102, 123, 235, 246, 249 124, 126, 139, 141, 171–3, 191, 229, 232, Chrysostomus 38, 66 n. 68, 67 n. 71, 99, 115, 233, 235, 239, 240, 241 121, 146, 154 Church 9, 98, 173 Church intra-Calvinist controversies/ the/God’s 2, 18, 19, 49, 57, 69, 116, 141 controversialist 126, 162, 164, 195 Catholic/-of Rome xiv, 2, 6, 10, 18, 19, 54, orthodoxy/orthodox beliefs/ 74–5, 100, 104, 137, 140–2, 144, 149, 195, theologians 57, 64, 70, 77, 86, 99, 110, 211–12, 219, 230, 237, 242, 243 131, 141, 166, 172, 194, 227, 235, 240, councils 74, 75, 104 243, 246 early/earliest (history of the) 3, 59, 74–5, Cambridge 128, 131, 132, 165, 246 104, 135 n. 5, 141, 144, 167, 243 Campanella, Tommaso 180 of England, see Anglican Church Canay de Fresnes, Philippe 49 Fathers xxiii, 3, 18, 25, 34, 40, 58, 66, 67, 71, Cano, Melchior xvi 74, 99, 107–10, 114, 116, 122, 141, 144, Canons of Dordrecht, see Dordrecht > 146, 166, 167, 201 Canons of folk (their conduct) 51, 170, 189, 192 Cantacuzenus, Georgius 89 n. 55 of Jerusalem 135 n. 5 Canter, Cornelius 207 Protestant/Reformed/Calvinist/(Dutch) 9, Cappel, Louis xvi, 10, 19, 20, 27, 68, 103, 127, 14, 19, 51, 53, 74, 79, 98, 101, 102, 170, 145, 203, 213, 220, 236, 247 172, 173, 174, 219, 228, 243 carbuncle 44 n. 119 relation with State xx, 53, 55, 74–6, 233 Cardano, Girolamo 15 unification of 139, 141, 163 Carolingian period 4 Cilicia 30 Carpzovius, Benedict 164 Clarius, Isidorus 6 Cartesian(ism) xix, 14, 179, 182, 207–8, 218, clay tablets 144 228, 232, 234, 248 Clement of Alexandria 34 n. 68 Cartesian Wars 174, 208, 212, 248 Cloppenburgh, Johannes 164 Casaubon, Isaac xvi, xviii, 12, 25 n. 20, 28–9, Cluverius, Philippus 182 49–50, 54–5, 67 n. 73, 73, 89, 104, 165, Coccejus, Johannes 83 n. 32, 207, 217, 220, 172, 217 n. 20, 235 228, 232 Casaubon, Méric 132 Coccejanism 220 Cassander, Georgius 139 Coddaeus, Gulielmus 76 Cassius, Christianus 163 Codex (biblical) Castellio, Sebastian 8, 47, 58, 104 n. 3, Alexandrinus 16, 117, 144, 146, 191 203 n. 51 Bezae 9 n. 44, 71 284 General Index

Codex (biblical) (cont.) textual (of the bible) xiii, xiv, xv, xxii, 1, 4, Claromontanus 9 n. 44 8, 10, 20, 21, 38, 40, 54, 72, 73, 76, 90, of Georgius Dousa 89 100–101, 104–7, 112, 114, 118, 139, 143, Vaticanus 87 n. 47, 117–8, 135–6 144, 159, 165, 175, 189, 190, 204, 205, Codex Justiniani 143 n. 58 206, 214, 216, 217, 225, 227, 228, 229, Coffee-Meetings 250 231, 234, 236, 237, 245 Coignet, Gaspard, de La Thuillerie 198 of OT 18, 144 Colinaeus, Simon 89, 214 of NT 21, 39, 48, 146 Collegium Trilingue 2 Croÿ, Jean de 132 Cologne 26 Crusius, Arnoldus Cornelii 79 Colvius, Andreas 185–6, 189, 191, 192, 198 Crusius, Martin 68 Comma Johanneum, see Index Locorum Cunaeus, Petrus 11, 12, 134 n. 3 Biblicorum, 1 John 5:7–8 Curtius 189–91 Commelin, Isaac 65 Cyprian 144, 161 Condé, le Grand 195, 244 Condé, Henri II de 195, 244 Daillé, Jean 18, 125, 235 Confession Dam, Harm-Jan van 73 Belgic 10, 57, 61, 73 n. 106, 79, 101, 141 Daniel, Roger 128, 246 Helvetian 10 Dead Sea Scrolls 144 Socinian 220 De Dieu, Ludovicus xv, 27, 67 n. 71, 126, 127, Conjecture(s)/-al emendation(s) xiii, xix, 23, 130, 217 n. 20 27, 40, 44, 71, 73, 83, 106, 110, 111, 113, Delrio, Martin 236 139, 146, 147, 148, 187, 205, 216, 236, 246 Demaetius, Carolus 175, 177–8 Constans de Montauban, Jean 41, 42 n. 100 Demetrius of Phaleron 33 n. 65, 34, 68 Constantine, Emperor 155; see also Donation Demetrius Triclinius 68 of Constantine Den Bosch, see Bois-le-Duc Contarini, Gasparo 9 Denmark 128, 194, 196 Cook, Hal (Harold) 13 Danish 197 Coptic 202 Derksen, Susan 225 Corinthians (people) 156 Descartes xix, 15, 208, 210, 229, 232, 234; Cotton, Robert 28 see also Cartesian(ism) Counter-Reformation/post-Tridentine 10, De Thou, Jacques-Auguste 29–32, 36, 40, 15 n. 72, 19 41 n. 98, 43, 50 Counter-Remonstrant 57, 77, 100, 104, 178, Deux Aes Bible 79, 80, 82–3, 86–7, 89, 94, 100 207, 234, 240, 241 Deventer 14, 120, 227 Courcelles (Curcellaeus), Estienne de 13, 55, D’Ewes, Simonds 67 n. 71, 114–15, 118, 128, 131 61–3, 67 n. 71, 137, 214–6, 236 dialectus Hellenistica, see lingua Hellenistica Coverdale, Miles 16 Diggers 17 Cranach, Lucas 180 Dilthey, Wilhelm 56, 61 Creation 203, 222 Diodati, Giovanni 87, 95 Creighton, Robert 132 Diodorus Siculus 44 criticism xiv, 24, 52, 94 n. 68, 169, 224; Diogenes Laertius 160 see also conjecture(s) Diomedes 68 art of/ars critica xiv, 11, 106, 108, 240 Dolot, Charles de Harlay, Lord of 28–9, 32, 36 biblical/of the bible xiv, xviii n. 11, 11, 18, 59, Donation of Constantine 5, 11–12, 222, 233 106, 130, 232, 246 Dordrecht historical xiii, xx n. 15, xxi, 113, 143, 159, 227 Canons of 14, 101, 141 historico-philological 9 city 14, 111, 170–1, 177, 179, 182–3, 185, humanist textual 235 187, 192 linguistic xiii Synod of 51, 69, 77, 78, 80, 81–2, 85, 90, 97, linguistic-historical 56, 59 101, 102, 104, 130, 131, 141, 173, 210, philological xxiii, 4, 56, 62 228 n. 75, 240, 242, 243 radical 11, 224, 244 Dousa, George 89 sloppy 204 Drusius (Sr), Johannes xv, xvi, xvii, 14, 43, 45, sound 224 54, 59–61, 69–73, 76–7, 79, 80, 99, 112, source 195 n. 13 117, 119, 134, 154–5, 217 n. 20 General Index 285

Du Bois, Jacobus 218–19 philological 11, 70 Dunkelgrün, Theodor vii, 7 n. 30, 10, 212 philosophical 15 Duport, James 128 theological 8, 75, 76, 134 n. 3, 138, 159, 233 Dupuy, Cabinet 174, 194, 196, 249–50 Dupuy, Claude 123–4 Faber, Tanaquil 41 Dupuy, Pierre and Jacques 27 Fagius, Paul 88, 154 Dürer, Albrecht 180 Faukelius, Hermannus 80, 84 n. 38 Dutch Golden Age 11–13, 14, 16, 235 Fell, John 216 n. 10 Dutch West Indian Company 195 Festus 45 Dyrkinus, Johannes 94 n. 69 Fevret de Fontenette, Charles Marie 41 n. 99 Fifth Monarchists 17 Ecbatana 30 Filelfo, Francesco 1 Egypt 24, 31, 88 Fisher, Samuel 238 Egyptian(s) 12, 45, 199–201, 223; Flacius Illyricus, Matthias 20 see also pharaohs Flood, the 203, 222, 230 Elijah Levita 19 France xviii, xxii, 18, 20, 30, 32 n. 61, 70, 172, Elizabeth (Stuart) of Bohemia 173 194, 196, 198, 202, 205, 206, 241–2, 247 Elzevir, Abraham 126 n. 113, 128 King of 205 Elzevir(s) 125, 132, 216 Franck, Sebastian 238 edition of NT 1624 8, 18, 94, 102, 105, 240 Franeker (University) xviii, 50, 60, 70, 79, edition of NT 1633 (Textus Receptus) 8, 18, 130, 131 94, 102, 105–6, 129, 135–6, 148, 151, Frank 187 214–16, 238, 240, 250 Frederick of Bohemia 173 Emmius, Ubbo 83, 221 Frederick Henry of Orange 85, 173, 242 empirical/-cist xix, xxii, 15, 234, 235 French, the 181 empiricism 15 n. 72, 88 French 16, 19, 28, 30, 173, 194, 195, 197, 198, Enden, Franciscus van den 229 241, 242, 244 England xviii, xxi, xxii, 16, 18, 20, 21, 28, 70, French (language/translations) 31, 65, 89, 187, 131, 132, 164, 173, 202, 212, 247, 248, 215 n. 6, 248 250 n. 58 French Wars of Religion xxi Enkhuizen 178, 197 n. 23 French theologians/scholars/philosopher xiii, Enlightenment xx n. 15, xxi, 229 12, 28, 49, 62 n. 52, 193, 207; Epiphanius 34 n. 68, 71 n. 95 see also Huguenot(s) Episcopius, Simon 55, 56 n. 11, 62, 63, 139 Fresnes, see Canay Erasmian 8, 55 Fronde, the 244 Erasmus xiv, xviii, xxiii, 2, 5, 6, 8–9, 13, 15, 42, Frijhoff, Willem 175 47, 58, 70–1, 99, 124, 127, 130, 131, 133, Further Reformation 130, 173, 182 167, 202, 203 n. 51, 211, 214, 217 n. 20, 233, 238 Galen 157, 179, 228 Annotationes 6 Galenus, see Haan, de Erastian(ism) 51, 74, 249 Gallican 19, 241 Eratosthenes 106 Gehenna 113 Erpenius, Thomas xv, xviii, 104, 128, 134, 149 Gelre, see Guelders Esther 31 Gelre, Petrus van 218 n. 25, 227 Ethiopian 126, 144, 187, 216, 217 Geneva 8, 12, 18, 26, 40, 49, 52, 61 n. 45, 123, Ethiopic Psalter 3 124, 132 Eucharist 43, 96–8, 115, 156–7 Geneva Bible 17, 87, 89 Euphrates 30–1 geography xvii, xviii, 30, 154, 197 n. 20, 218, Euripides 89, 139 n. 35 221, 246 Eusebius of Caesarea 3, 24, 34 n. 68, 39, 48, Gerbelius, Nicolaus 89 66, 67, 99, 114, 118, 149 German countries/- lands/- territories/ Eve 199 n. 31, 209 Germany xviii, xxii, 10, 16, 20, exegesis 159 173 n. 19, 217 n. 20, 247 biblical xiii, 21, 50 n. 144, 76, 107, 108, German translation of the Bible 20, 21, 79, 80 142, 243 Gershom, Levi ben 93 dogmatic 159 Gerson, Jean 6 286 General Index

Gibbons, James vii Guelders 78, 170 n. 1 Gichon 40 Gulielmus (Willemsz), Hadrianus 104 Gillaerts, Paul vii Gustav Vasa Bible 83 Goesius, Willem 120 Golius, Jacobus xv, xviii Haan, Galenus Abrahamsz de 228 Gomarus, Franciscus xv, xvii, 14, 48, 53–4, 56, Habsburg xviii, 14, 241 59, 61–9, 72–3, 76–7, 84 n. 34, 84 n. 40, Hai, Rabbi 160 86, 87–9, 99, 101, 112, 124, 149, 155, 234, Hairy War/controversy about long hair xv, 238, 239, 240 xvii, 101, 170–83, 185–92, 193, 220, 229, Davidis Lyra 68 237, 248, 250 Gomer 218 Hale, Matthew 203 Gorinchem 170 n. 1 Hammond, Henry 164, 165 n. 165 Goulart, Simon 41 n. 99 Hanameel 113 Gouldman, Francis 17 Harlay, Achille de 28 Graecisms 81 Harlay, Charles de, see Dolot Graevius, Johann Georg 12 Harrington, James 74 Grafton, Anthony xviii, 23, 202, 221, 246, 249 Hartsoecker, Christian 215 n. 6 Greek Anthology 221 Haugen, Kristine 68 Greek text (of the NT) xiii, xxii, 5–8, 58, 68, Hebraisms 81, 99, 116, 159; see also lingua 71, 84, 93, 94, 95, 105, 109, 115, 116, 117, Hellenistica 121, 126, 146, 149, 151, 190, 215, 216, 236 Hebrew Bible/Hebrew OT 4, 6, 32, 38, 54, 57, Greenland 197, 218 90, 117, 119, 125, 202, 213, 221–2, 226, Gregory III, Pope 25 229, 236, 247, 250 Gregory, Church Father 108 Hebrew (Masoretic) text of the Bible xiii, Gregory, Brad xix, 237 xxiii, 5–7, 20, 31, 33, 35 n. 70, 44, 71, Grimaldo, Girolamo 137 72 n. 101, 81, 83, 88, 89, 116, 144, 149, Groningen 69 n. 81, 170 n. 1 154, 163, 202, 213, 222, 225, 247, Groot, Willem de 137–8, 153, 217, 221, 249, 250 226 n. 68, 235 n. 9 Hebrew Psalter 6 Grotius, Hugo xv, xvi, xvii, 10–12, 14, 17, 21, Hebrew chronicle 225 27, 48, 54, 55, 56 n. 11, 61, 63, 64, Hebrew Jews 32 67 n. 71, 69, 73–7, 103–5, 110, 117, 122, Hebrew (language) xvi, 19, 20, 25, 32, 42, 57, 126–7, 131–2, 133–69, 174, 191, 194–6, 59, 65, 68, 76, 117, 154 203 n. 51, 207, 209, 210 n. 73, 212, 216, (good) knowledge of 8, 57, 59, 63, 65, 73, 218–19, 221, 225, 229–30, 231, 233–4, 79, 103–4, 130, 131, 154, 249 237, 239–44, 246, 250 bad/no knowledge of 8, 25, 32, 33, 40, 47, De Antichristo 139, 163 59, 66, 83, 119, 121, 124, 138, 142, 197 Annotationes xv, 5, 133–6, 139–42, 163–4, epistolography 104 166, 168, 195, 203 n. 51, 221, 230, 241–3 translations/version 7, 34 n. 68, 66, 145, Annotationes on OT 143–5 205–6 Annotationes on NT 138, 146–62 of Matthew 48, 65–8, 71, 149, 152 Explicatio Decalogi 163 of Revelation 41 De fide et operibus 139, 163 poetics 65, 68 De imperio 73, 75, 168 spelling 48 De iure belli ac pacis 133, 159, 168 texts 156 Ordinum pietas 74–6, 168 vocabulary/semantics/phraseology/verbal De origine gentium Americanarum system 27, 29, 34, 35, 43, 47, 58, 59, 195 n. 14, 209, 246 60, 71, 79 n. 2, 80, 82, 86–7, 90, 92, 93, polemics with La Peyrère 21, 194 101, 104, 110, 111, 113, 115–17, 119–23, polemics with Rivet 139, 140, 165 n. 108, 174, 128 n. 132, 138, 147–8, 153, 157, 159, 178, 186, 192, 194–8, 238, 242 181, 188, 192, 217 n. 20, 241; see also his theological-political agenda 134 n. 3, lingua Hellenistica 140, 142, 157, 167, 168 vocalization 19, 20, 206, 247 De veritate 134 n. 3, 143, 157, 168 Hebrew scholarship/ - studies xviii, xxiii, 7, Gronovius, Jacob 12 54, 70, 90, 104, 131, 249 Gronovius, Johann Friedrich 12 Hebrews, the (people) 156, 160 Guarino da Verona 1 Heidanus, Abraham 207, 219 General Index 287

Heidelberg Catechism 57, 79, 100, 101, 141 Hooft, Pieter Cornelisz 182 Heidelberg (University) 64, 245 Hoorn 192 Heinsius, Daniel xv–xvii, 8 n. 42, 11, 12, 14, 17, Hoornbeek, Johannes 177, 207–10, 217 18, 36, 37, 49 n. 141, 63–5, 67 n. 71, 68, Hornius, Georgius 13, 145, 218, 224–6 77, 93–4, 99, 102, 103–132, 133, 134 n. 3, Horst, Daniel ter 130 n. 136 136–8, 152, 155, 159, 166, 191, 209 n. 72, Hottinger, Johann Heinrich 10 221, 229, 232, 234–5, 237, 240–1, 243, Huguenot(s) 12, 19, 30, 172, 194, 235, 244, 247 246, 250 humanism xv, xx, 9, 13, 15, 166 Aristarchus sacer xv, 93, 94 n. 68, 105–7, late humanism 15 128–9, 131–2, 136 n. 13 humanist Homilia 104 academy 89 Sacrae exercitationes xv, 12, 64, 67 n. 71, character 166 94 n. 68, 102, 105–6, 108, 110, 112, 114, legal tradition 28, 29 n. 44 117–18, 122–3, 125–8, 130–1, 137, 166 method 73, 77 1629 edition of Selden’s De diis Syris motto (ad fontes) 2, 7, 56, 59 93, 105, 125, 126, 131, 221 philology/-ist(s) xix, xx, xxiii, 2, 11, 54, 77, Heinsius, Nicolaas 12, 132 180, 233, 235, 238 Helmichius, Werner 79–80 program 7 Henri III, king of France 30 scholarship xviii, 11, 13, 77, 201 Henri IV (of Navarre), king of France 28, 30 science 103, 126 Hephaestion 68 thought 15 hermeneutical anarchy 237 tradition xix, xx hermeneutical rationalism 62 humanists (people) xiv, xx, 5, 7, 8, 15, 167, hermeneutics 127 183, 212 biblical xiv, 1, 9, 10, 18, 46, 62, 145, 228 Hutter, Elias 20 of philology xiv, 18, 81, 233 Huygens, Constantijn 183, 186 n. 80 principle 57, 78 Protestant 142 Iamblichus 160 Hermes Trismegistus 12 Iceland 196–7 Herod, King 39, 155, 158 Iericho 150 Herodias 39, 155 Index of Forbidden Books 7, 20, 230 Hesychius of Jerusalem 187 Irenaeus 144, 187 Heurnius, Johannes 182 Isaiah, prophet 145 Heuvel, Charles van den vii Israel 30, 34, 112, 144, 155, 181 Hibernicus, Augustinus 219 Israelites 24, 161 Hinnom, Vally of the Son of 113 Israel, Jonathan 229, 232 Hippocrates 23, 179 Italians 181, 241 historical contextualization xiii, xiv, xx n. 15, xxii, 1, 8, 21, 48, 54, 56, 62, 69, 73, 90, James, author of epistle 135 111, 133, 143, 157, 165, 167, 214, 218, 227, James I, King of England 12, 37, 142 229, 231, 234, 246 James, Susan 232 Hobbes, Thomas xx n. 15, 17 n. 83, 202, 229, Japhet 218 250, 251 Jeremiah, the prophet 129 Hoelzlin, Jeremias 94, 105 Jerome xiv, 1, 3 n. 7, 4, 6, 7, 25, 30 n. 47, Holland 34 n. 68, 66, 67, 88, 107, 108 n. 28, 109, Court of 210, 227 112, 113, 125, 144, 146, 151, 154, 190, 236 province 12, 14, 16, 78, 100, 133, 139, 183, Jerusalem 29, 30, 32, 113, 135 n. 5, 194 193, 197, 242, 243, 244 Jesuit(s) 49, 55, 137, 224, 234, 236 States of 17, 74, 102 n. 101, 220, 227, 241, 244 Jesus Christ 35, 38, 39, 43, 46–7, 57, 65–6, 70, Synod of North- 79, 170 n. 1 72 n. 101, 73, 96, 97, 98 n. 82, 99, 112–3, Synod of South- 79, 80, 170 115–6, 121–2, 126 n. 118, 135 n. 5, 146–7, Holofernes 30 149–50, 152, 156–62, 164, 193, 195, 209, Holy Communion 43, 170 217, 222, 235, 247 Holy Spirit 54, 57, 81, 90, 101, 108, 114, 122, 141, Jews, the 19, 22, 31–2, 34, 35, 38, 43–6, 59, 63, 167, 168, 226, 237–8 67, 112, 121, 152, 156, 160–2, 181, 187, Homer 106, 152 194, 224 Hommius, Festus 57, 85 Hellenistic/Greek 32–3, 88, 119, 121, 152 288 General Index

Jews, the (cont.) Laplanche, François 56, 134 n. 3 recalling/revocation/conversion of Larenus, Jodocus 80 193–4, 205 La Rochelle 19 Joakim 30 Lau, Theodor Ludwig 212 John, the apostle 72, 114, 120, 147, 157, 159 Laud, William 129 John, author of Revelation 41 Laurentius, Jacob 163 John the Baptist 155, 158, 236 lechem 157 Joanna 72 Le Clerc, Jean 13, 55, 61, 133, 165, 215 n. 6 Jona 72 Lefèvre, Tanneguy, see Faber Jonge, Henk Jan de vii, 22 n. 3, 26, 41, 51, Leiden (city) xxii, 14, 29, 50, 65, 90, 94–5, 102 n. 101, 105, 122 n. 95, 128, 134, 104–5, 125–6, 132, 174, 192, 194, 143 n. 55, 148, 159, 232, 235, 236, 238 198, 228 Jorink, Eric vii, 13, 16, 230 States’ translators in 83–85, 90, 102 Joshua, the prophet 203, 219 Leiden (University) xv, xvii, xviii, 11–13, 21, Josephus, Flavius 27, 34 n. 68, 39, 93, 155, 156, 22, 36, 51, 53–5, 64 n. 61, 62, 64, 89, 90, 180, 181, 213, 222, 225, 235 104, 110, 124, 131, 134, 170, 178, 182, 183, Journet, Noël 202 n. 45 204–5, 207, 208, 212, 217, 218, 225, 226, Judaism 5 239, 241, 248, 249 Judea 31, 45, 46, 156 Leiden, Lucas van 180 n. 51 Judith 30–1 Lejay, Guy Michel 247 Julius Africanus 120 Lelong, Jacques 41 Julius Caesar 65, 155 L’Empereur, Constantin xv, xviii, 68, 110–11, Junius (Du Jon), Franciscus 42 n. 107, 54, 59, 122–3, 125, 129, 137, 154, 240–1 64, 72, 87, 112, 155 Le Prier, Philippe 199, 201, 221 Junius F.F., Francis 17, 135 Letter of Aristeas 4, 33–34, 88 Junius, Hadrianus 183 Leusden, Johannes 164, 217, 228 Junius, Patricius, see Young Levant, the 19 Justin Martyr 88 Levitin, Dmitri xxi, 164 Leyden, Lucas van 180 Katchen, Aaron 56, 77 Liesvelt Bible 79, 87 Ke 199 n. 29 Ligueurs 28 Kidron 92 Limborch, Philippus van 13, 55, 62, 63 Kimchi, David 87, 89, 134 lingua/dialectus Hellenistica 119–22 King James Bible/-Version (KJV) 16, 17, 57, linguistic(s) (aspects/matters/knowledge/ 75, 79, 81, 83, 87, 89, 93, 101, 113, scope) xiv n. 3, 27, 43, 73, 76, 100, 112, 126 n. 118, 203 n. 52 114, 119, 129, 134, 149, 157, 183, Kirchmannus, Johannes 217 n. 20 231, 246 Knol, Jan 220 abilities 58 Koerbagh, Adriaan 229, 251 anachronisms 144 Koerbagh, Johannes 229 analysis/tools xiii, xiv, xxii, 1, 10, 20, 21, 29, Korteweg, Peter 70, 72 48, 54, 58, 68, 69 n. 81, 72, 90, 105, 119, Kralicy Bible 83 134 n. 3, 165, 175, 177, 182, 187, 189, 212, Krans, Jan 9 214, 218, 231, 237, 246 Kuyper, Frans 227 argument/grounds 28, 34, 65, 145, 166, 178 backgrounds 23 Labadie, Jean de 227–8 boundary xvii Laet, Johannes de 64, 195, 196 n. 15, contexts/contextualization 76, 133, 143, 157, 218, 225 179, 227 La Mothe le Vayer, François de 197, 212 clarifications/exegesis/illumination/ Laodicea, Council of 156 explanation/commentator 99, 138, La Peyrère, Isaac de xv, xvi, xvii, xx, 13, 14, 21, 159, 160, 240 164, 174, 193–212, 217–21, 223–5, close reading 217 229–30, 234–5, 244–51 commentary 166 Praeadamitae xv, 164, 174, 193 n. 2, 197, criticism see criticism 200 n. 36, 203, 206–7, 210, 219–21, 225, -historical 59 246 n. 46 influence 100 General Index 289

interpretations/approach/explanation / Medes 30 work/assessment/discussions 76, 105, Meijer, Lodewijk 218, 228, 251 111, 130, 160, 161, 189, 217 n. 20, 229, 237 Melanchthon, Philipp 3, 8, 70 n. 84 limitations 202 Meletius, patriarch 89 n. 55 multiplicity 231 Menasseh ben Israel 154, 221 precision 9 Mennonite(s) 210, 227, 228 problems/issues xviii, 229 Mercier (Mercerus), Jean 48, 67 Sitz im Leben/universe/mind-set 32, Merovingians 181 119, 150 Mersenne, Marin 194 skills/expertise 63, 65, 234 Mesopotamia 30–1 theory 123, 130 Meursius, Johannes 128, 131, 197 n. 22 Lipsius, Justus xvi, 11–12, 27 n. 32 Micyllus, Jacobus 68 locusts 44 Middle Ages 3, 4, 5 Loevestein 131, 134, 241, 249 Miller, Peter N. 10, 18 Longinus 46–7 Mills, John 215 n. 6, 216 n. 10 Lotius, Eleazar 217–8 Milton, John 187 Louis XIII, king of France 172, 273 miracle(s) xix, 46, 157, 203, 234 Louis XIV, king of France 244 Mishna 156 Love, Harold 196 Moab 31 Lubbertus, Sibrandus 70–1, 72 n. 101, 73–5, 79 Moloch 113 Luke, the apostle 147, 148, 152, 153, 158 Morin, Jean xvi, 10, 18, 19, 247 Luther, Martin 8, 30 n. 47, 42, 69 n. 81, Moses 29, 98 n. 82, 144, 149, 161, 203, 70 n. 84, 87, 88, 237 204, 208 Lutheran 10, 42, 79, 98, 164, 241 his death 202 Lutheranism xxi his hair 188, 189 n. 92 Mothe le Vayer, François de la, see De La Maachah 92 Mothe Magalhães, Cosmas 219 Moulin, Pierre du 139–40 Magdeburg Centuriae 233 Muis, Siméon Marotte de 10 Magog 218 Mulerius, Nicolaus 221 Maimonides, Moses xviii, 12, 157, 219 Muller, Richard A. 11 Maldonado, Juan de 155 n. 115 Mulsow, Martin 212 Mander, Karel van 180 Münster, Sebastian 7, 48, 65, 67, 68, 90, Malcolm, Noel 193 n. 1, 202, 246 149, 154 Mandelbrote, Scott 249 Müntzer, Thomas 238 Manetho 222–3 Manetti, Gianozzo 1, 5 Nadere Reformatie, see Further Reformation Mani(chean) 209–10 Napier, John 41 Manutius Jr, Aldus 68 Narcissus 185 Manutius Sr, Aldus 214 natural philosophy xvii, xix, xxii, 91, 179, Marcellinus, Saint 188 n. 92 229, 233 Maresius, Samuel 139–40, 164, 228 natural science xix, xxii, 233, Mark, the apostle 147, 152, 236 Naudé, Gabriel 137, 193–4 Marlorat, Augustin 177 Navarre, see Henri IV Mars 199 n. 29 Nazirites 177, 180 Martial 221 Near-Eastern languages xv, xviii, 119 Martini, Martino 224 Nebuchadnezzar 30–1, 154 Masius, Andreas 128 n. 122 Nellen, Henk vii, 134 n. 3, 146 n. 74 Masora; see Hebrew (Masoretic) text of Nettesheim, Agrippa of 15 the Bible New Covenant 115, 160 Matthew, the apostle 48, 72, 113, 129, 147, 155, New Sciences xix, xx, xxiii, 234 156, 236 Niccolò Nicoli 1 Matthew, the Hebrew gospel of, see Hebrew > Nicholas of Lyra 4–5 Matthew Nicostratos 156 Maurice of Orange 80 Nineveh 30 mechanism/-ist(ic) xx, 15, 232, 234 Noah 218, 222, 224, 237 290 General Index

Nonnus of Panopolis 67 n. 71, 94 n. 68, 106–7, Pococke, Edward 249 111 n. 47, 114–5, 121, 125, 128 Poggio Bracciolini 1 non-radical 171 Poimenander, Irenaeus, see Udemans Nordic 197 Polyander à Kerckhoven, Johannes 79, 87–8, Norway/-egian 197, 218 182, 184, 194 Polyglot Bible xxiii, 213 Oecolampadius, Johannes 3, 8 Origen’s (Hexapla) 4, 107, 116 onyx 44 Complutensian 2, 6, 8, 214, 231 Origen 4, 66 n. 68, 99, 107, 108 n. 28, 116, Antwerp xvi, 7, 19, 20, 25, 87, 89, 90, 120, 146 96 n. 73, 180, 203, 212, 214, Ossa-Richardson, Anthony vii 218, 257 Overijssel 170 n. 1 Hamburg 20 Nürnberg 20 Pagnini, Sante 6, 60, 87, 89, 178, 180, 181 Erpenius’s 134 Pan 92 Parisian 10, 18–19, 247 Pandects 155 London 5, 17, 164, 213, 216, 220 n. 34, 231 Papias 66–7, 99, 114, 149 Pomponazzi, Pietro 15, 211, 212 papyri 144 Pontanus, Johannes Isaac 197 n. 22 Pareus, David 64–5 Poole, Matthew 164 Paris(ian) 8, 23, 28, 50, 55, 110, 123, 135, 137, Popkin, Richard 193 n. 2, 198 n. 25, 207, 211 174, 193–4, 197–8, 212, 225, 239, 241, pre-Adamites/Men before Adam 174, 193, 243, 250; see also Polyglot > Parisian 195–7, 204, 207–9; see also La Peyrère Parthian 187 >Praeadamitae Pasor, Georgius 130, 216 pre-critical period xvi, 3–4 Patin, Guy 194 Preuilly 29, 32 patristic authors 187; see also Church Fathers Preus, Samuel 228 patristic literature/texts xvi, 2, 3, 18, 76 Priapus 92 Paul, apostle 175, 181–2, 189, 246, 250 Price, J. Leslie 13 Pauline authorship of Hebrews 27, 40, 211 Procopius 117 Pauline Epistles/Letters 27, 126 Propertius 35 Pearson, John 17 Prynne, William 173 Pellicanus, Conradus 3 Ptah 199 Pentateuch 29, 88, 89 n. 55, 144, 202; Ptolemy Philadelphus, king 32–4 see also Samaritan Pentateuch, Pufendorf, Samuel 212 and Hebrew Bible Puritanism 173 Mosaic authorship of xx n. 15, 144, 202, 246 Peshitta 149 quadriga 1, 4–5, 20 Pétau, Denis 106, 137, 236, 242, 249 Quakers 17 Peter, apostle 27, 188–9 n. 92 Quinquarborius, Johannes 48, 65, 67 Petrarch 1, 15 pharaohs/Egyptian kings 12, 222, 239 radical Pharisees 43, 62, 149 agendas xxii Philip II, king of Spain 89 criticism 11, 17, 224, 244, 246 Philip III, king of Spain 173 ideas/thought, xx n. 15, 168, 172, 196, 202–4, Philippus Herodes 155 211, 212, 228, 229, 232, 246–7 Philo of Alexandria 4 n. 11, 32, 33 n. 63, 88, 161 interpretations of the Bible 15, 16, 167, 174, Photius 107 192, 244 Pico (Picus) della Mirandola, Giovanni 126 orthodoxy 101 Pilate 45 people 171 Pindar 68 philology (potential of) xviii, 8, 10, 14, 15, Piscator, Johannes 21, 80, 82, 86, 89, 95, 142 169, 201, 239, 241, 245, 248, 251 Plato(ism) 15 philosophy 15, 21, 166, 192, 207, 232, 234, Plautus 180 245, 251 Plempius, Vopiscus Fortunatus 180 revision 10 Pliny the Elder 35, 93 radicalism, foregrounding of xxii Plutarch 93, 156 Raei, Johannes de 15 n. 73 General Index 291

Ramus, Petrus 15 129, 131, 135, 137, 172, 174, 180, 182, Ramism/-st 64, 239 185–92, 194–201, 209, 212, 221, 234, 246 Ranters 17 De annis climactericis 198–9, 246 Raphelengius, Christophorus 50 Saumur 19, 69, 194, 235 Raphelengius Sr, Franciscus 42 n. 107, Scaliger, Joseph xiii–xviii, xxiii, 3–4, 11–14, 96 n. 73 17–19, 21–52, 53–56, 58, 60–65, 68–70, Raphelengius Jr, Franciscus 146, 149 71 n. 95, 72–3, 76–7, 79, 88, 99, 103–4, Red Sea 31 106–7, 109–10, 112, 114, 117, 119, 123–6, Remonstrant 128, 130, 131, 133, 135, 145, 147–8, 154–5, Brotherhood 137 165, 167, 172, 187, 199–201, 212, 221, people 52, 55, 57, 61, 62, 63, 69, 77, 222, 229, 230, 232–5, 237, 239–40, 83, 100, 137, 162, 172, 210, 214, 245–6, 249–50 234, 242 Confutatio fabulae Burdonum 51 philology 13, 61 De emendatione temporum 24, 25, 28, 29, stronghold (Saumur) 235 45, 51, 64, 124, 200 theology/interpretation/ Genevensia 26–7, 40, 147 n. 80 Remonstrantism xvii, 55, 56 n. 11, 73, Isagogici chronologiae canones 51 74, 159, 161, 215 n. 6, 237, 242; Manilius, editions of 23, 24, 65, 200 see also Counter-Remonstrant Scaligerana 22, 24–6, 32–5, 36–47, 49, 51, Remphan 72 52, 62, 64, 72, 109, 234–5 Renaissance xviii, 3, 4, 5, 15, 68, 90, 103, 126, Thesaurus temporum 3, 24, 25, 34, 51, 65, 231 68, 200 n. 34, 234 Renesse, Ludovicus a 93, 96, 100 Vinariensia 47–8 Republic of Letters xvi, xx, 4, 12, 13, 20, 25, 37, Scaliger, Julius Caesar 64 n. 61 195, 196, 198, 235, 245, 246 Scandinavia xviii, 194 Revius, Jacobius 70, 85, 88, 107, 122, 131, 172, Scattergood, Anthony 17 178, 182, 196, 205–6, 217, 234–5 Schikardus, Wilhelm 188 Rhone 40 Schlüter, Joachim 166 Richelieu, Cardinal 142, 193–4 Schoppe, Caspar 49 Rivet, André 85, 132, 139, 140, 170 n. 4, 174, Schotanus, Meinardus 175, 178, 220 186, 242, 250 Schurzfleisch, Leonhard 47 Rijnsburg xvii Schuyl, Florentius 171, 177 n. 29, 179–83, 185 Roberts, Benjamin 174 n. 21 Scribanius, Carolus 49 Rogers, Mark vii scripturarii 220 Roggius, Johannes 79 Scriverius, Petrus 28 Romans, the (people) 45, 160, 187 Scylax of Caryander 221 Romanus, Eusebius see Le Prier, Philippe Scythian(s) 181, 187 Rome (city) 27, 45, 47, 211 secularization xx–xxii, 51 n. 148, 241 Rome, Church of see Church > Catholic secularizing research 11 Rooden, Peter van 110, 122–3, 154, 232 Sedan 19 Rossi, Azariah de’ 34 n. 68 Seguin, Gilbert 32–6 Rotterdam 137, 170 n. 1, 241 Selden, John xvi, 12, 17, 28, 29 n. 44, 74, 93, Rottermondt, Peter 180 105, 133, 164, 217 n. 20, 221, 247 Roverius (Roovere), Jacobus 111 contact with Heinsius 108, 123, 125–31 Rummel, Erika 7 De diis Syris (1617) 12, 93, 125, 130, 221 De diis Syris (1629) 105, 125–7, 131 Sabbath xvii, 219 Table Talk 57, 74, 126–7 Sadoleto, Jacopo 9 Seleucus of Macedonia 30 Salutati, Coluccio 1 self-evidence/perspicuity of Scripture xxii, Samaritan Pentateuch 3, 18, 145, 213, 222, 247 54, 57 sardonyx 44 Sellin, Paul 102 n. 101, 126 n. 117 Sarpi, Paolo 209 n. 72 Senguerdius, Arnold 209 n. 72 Sarrau, Claude 186, 194, 195 n. 14, 196, 198, 209 Senguerdius, Wolferd 15 n. 73 Saturnus 199 n. 29 sensus (as opposed to veritas) 6, 33, 232 Saumaise (Salmasius), Claude xv, xvi, xvii, 12, sensus 81, 85, 108, 148 n. 81 14, 15 n. 72, 17, 95–6, 117, 120, 125–6, Sent 40 292 General Index

Septuagint xiii, 4, 6, 7, 16, 18, 25, 27, 29, 31–5, Stephanus, Henricus (Henri II Estienne) 44, 66, 67, 71, 72 n. 101, 87–9, 112, 116, xviii, 5, 8, 84, 89, 93–4, 105, 217 n. 20 117, 118, 119, 144, 147, 187, 188, 199 n. 29, Stephanus, Robertus 8, 18, 89, 105–6, 113, 214 213, 214, 222, 224, 226, 229–30, 247, 249 Stephanus Filius, Robertus 90 Serarius, Nicolaus 45, 49, 60, 70, 219 Stillingfleet, Edward 203 Sermon on the Mount 134 Strabo 44, 89 Shaftesbury, Anthony Ashley Cooper, Earl Sturluson, Snorri 197 of 212 Sweden/-ish 83, 167, 194, 241–3 Sibelius, Adolphus 63 Swiss 8, 16, 18 Sibelius, Caspar 85 Symmachus the Samaritan Ebionite 116, 187 Siloam 40 Synod of North-/South-Holland, see Holland Simon (spelling of) 48 Synod of Dordrecht, see Dordrecht > Simon Peter 72, 146 Synod of Simon, Richard xvi n. 5, 4, 10, 20, 34 n. 68, 55, Synopsis purioris theologiae 54, 195 133, 165, 168, 202, 230, 250 Syriac Sionita, Gabriel 19 language xvi, 3, 120, 121, 152 Sirmond, Jacques 234 liturgy 160 Slavic translation 10 manuscript 67 n. 71 Smetius, Johannes 182 texts 54 Smetius, Henricus 68 version of the Bible 6, 7, 19, 43, 47, 67 n. 71, sociolinguistic(s) xiii, xviii, 119 72, 95, 96 n. 73, 113, 114, 115, 126, 136, Socinus, Faustus 55, 58 n. 28, 61–2, 217, 251 144, 146, 149, 151, 156, 216, 247 Socinian 81, 100, 165, 220, 229 Socinianism 61, 208, 220, 227 Tacitus 152, 161, 180 sola scriptura xiv, 18, 57, 59, 101, 117, 141, Talmud 4, 31, 33, 43, 50, 57, 86, 87, 160 167, 236–8 Targum(im) 6, 7, 29, 60, 89, 116, 120, 145, 187, Solomon 134 n. 3, 144, 155, 158, 180 225, 247 Somos, Mark 11, 51 n. 148, 134 Tatar 187 Soncino 6 Temple of Jerusalem 237 Sophocles 68, 148 Tertullian 109, 144, 146 Sorbonne 24, 242–3 Textus Receptus, see Elzevir > edition South-Holland, see Holland of NT 1633 Sozzini, see Socinus The Hague 84, 85, 170, 173, 194, 197, 217, 250 Spanheim, Frederic 194 Theocritus 35 Spies, Marijke 175 Theodoretus 108 n. 28 Spinoza vii, xiv, xvi, xviii, xx n. 15, xxiii, 10, Theodotion 116, 187 13–4, 20–1, 101, 133, 165, 168–9, 190, Theophylactus 66 n. 68, 67 n. 71, 107, 115 192, 193, 202, 202, 225, 229, 230, 231, Thirty Years’ War xxi 232, 233, 237, 244, 248, 250, 251 Thomasius, Christian 212 Tractatus theologico-politicus xvi, xviii, Thou,see De Thou xxiii, 10, 13, 101, 133, 165 n. 168, 168–9, Thysius, Anthonius 79, 87, 194 190, 192, 193, 212, 213, 220, 225, 229, Tibullus 35 230, 232, 237, 250, 251 tithes 28–29 Spinozism xix tolerance 8, 14, 55 stadholders 55; see also Maurice, Frederick Torah 166 Henry William III, Willem Frederik Tostado, Alonso Fernandéz de Stadholderless Period 249 Madrigal, el 219 Stanglin, Keith 56 Touber, Jetze vii, 13, 101, 102, 220, 226 n. 68, States General 70, 80, 83, 85, 95, 102, 210, 226, 228, 232 240–1, 243 Tractatus theologico-politicus; see Spinoza States’ Translation xv, xvii, 14, 18, 21, 67 n. 71, Trelcatius Sr, Lucas 54 78, 80–2, 84, 86, 89–91, 94 n. 68, 96–7, Trent, Council of 7, 9, 10 99–102, 106, 112, 114, 117, 130, 136, 152, Traversari, Ambrosio 3 155, 161, 178, 180–1, 192, 206, 210, 215 n. 6, Tremellius, Immanuel 60, 87, 203 n. 51 218–9, 226, 235, 240, 245–6, 250 Trigland, Jacobus 207 Steenbakkers, Piet vii Troy 201 General Index 293

Turnebus, Adrianus 180 Vogellius, Hieronymus 178 Turretin, Francis 53, 236 Volder, Burcher de 15 n. 73 Twelve Years’ Truce 53, 69, 93, 100, 101, 175, Voltaire xxi 239, 248 Vorstius, Conradus 71, 73, 100, Tyndale, William 16 Vossius, Dionysius 12, 221 Tyre 145 Vossius, Gerardus Johannes 12, 110, 122, 128, 131, 134, 137, 163, 172, 186, 221, 222, Ubbenius, Martinus 63 226, 242 Udemans, Godefridus 175–80, 183, 185, De theologia gentili 12, 221 191, 220 Vossius, Isaac xv, xvi, xvii, 12–14, 15, 17, 18, 37, ultramontane 31, 55, 241 145, 200 n. 36, 203, 209, 210, 212, 221–8, Unnik, Willem Cornelis van 134 n. 3, 142, 230, 235, 242, 244, 245, 246, 249, 250 154, 166 Vulcanus 199 Ussher, James 10, 17, 67 n. 71, 129, 213, Vulgate xiii, xiv, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 20, 25, 27, 31, 54, 220, 247 58, 66, 67, 87, 124, 136, 138, 142, 144, usury xvii, 96, 174, 175, 248 149, 150, 151, 163, 187, 188, 190, Utenhovius, Johannes 95 203 n. 51, 215, 225; see also Jerome Utrecht Sixto-Clementine Vulgate 9, 25, 87 n. 47 city 3 n. 7, 164, 192, 229 Church Council 178 Walaeus, Antonius 79, 84 n. 38, 85, 131, 196 province 78 Walloon Church/Synod 182, 228, 234 Synod of 170 n. 1 Walton, Brian xvi, 17, 164, 213, 216, 220 Union of 14 Weinberg, Joanna 122 n. 95 University 120, 175, 177–8, 212, 217, 248 Westphalia, Peace Treaty of 174, 248 Uytenbogaert, Johannes 55, 56 n. 11, 60, 62, Wetsel, David 194, 198 n. 25 63, 70, 74, 79, 80, 140–1 Wettstein, Johann Jakob 215 n. 6, 216 n. 10 Widmanstetter, Johann Albrecht 6 Valla, Lorenzo xviii, xxiii, 1, 2, 5, 11, 30 n. 47, Willem Frederik of Orange 227 61, 130, 177, 202, 217 n. 20, 222, 231, 233 Willemsz, see Gulielmus Vassan, Jean and Nicolas de 37, 233 William I of Orange 89, 96 n. 73 Vatable, François 68, 87, 89, 154, 188 William II of Orange 85 Vatican xviii William III of Orange 226 Vegetius 93 Windsor 244 Velthuysen, Lambert van 219, 221 Wolder, David 20 Verbeek, Theo 232 Worm, Ole 196–8 Verborch, Anthonius, see Schuyl Verduin, Maarten 93 Xenophon 48, 156, 160 Vereem, Johannes 63 Xerxes 30 veritas 33, 232 veritas Graeca 5 Young, Patrick 17, 117–8, 123, 128, 135 Vermigli, Peter Martyr 8 vernacularization of debate xvi, xvii, xxiii, 80, Zechariah, the prophet 72, 112–3, 155 101, 171, 185, 187, 191–2, 226, 246, 248 Zeeland 183, 244 Verscheepker, Johannes 209 Court of 210 Vertunien (Vertunianus), François 22, 23, 27, Province 14, 78 32, 37, 69 Synod of 227 Vikings 197 Zohar 160 Virgil 160, 198 n. 24 Zurich 18 Vittorino da Feltre 1 Zurich Bible 87, 89 Vlissingen, Classis of 227 Zutphen 80 Voetius, Gisbertus 175, 177–8, 186, 219, 228 Zwingli, Ulrich 8, 89 Index Locorum Biblicorum

For mentions of authors of biblical books, see the General index

Genesis, book of 44, 66 n. 70, 89, 90, Judith, book of 29–31 117, 224 Judith 1:1-4 30 Genesis 1 90 Judith 1:12 31 n. 51 Genesis 1:2 92 Judith 2:23-5 30 Genesis 2:3 96 n. 77 Judith 4:6 30 Genesis 2:12 44 Judith 8 30 Genesis 2:25 80 Job, book of 145, 158 Genesis 4:8 225 Job 5:5 178 Genesis 5:18 145 Genesis 5:27 145 Psalms, book of 25, 78, 79, 218, 227 Genesis 35:18 66 Psalm 2 60 Genesis 35:38 66 n. 70 Psalm 20 32–3, 35 Psalm 45 205 Exodus, book of 144 Psalm 45:1 206 Exodus 20 144 Psalm 55 86 Psalm 55:19 87 Leviticus, book of 187 Psalm 55:23 87–9 Leviticus 2:9 147 Psalm 66 Leviticus 2:13 27 Psalm 69 205 Leviticus 6:23 147 Psalm 80 205 Leviticus 17:7 178 Psalm 91 35 Leviticus 19:27 187 Psalm 91:5-6 34–5

Numbers 6:2 177 n. 31 Proverbs 8:22 72 n. 101, 116 Numbers 22:7 72 Ecclesiastes, book of 144 Deuteronomy, book of 144, 150 Deuteronomy 5 144 Song of Songs, book of 93 Deuteronomy 32:11 90, 92 n. 60 Song of Songs 4:1 181 Deuteronomy 34:5-12 202 Song of Songs 5:11 180 Song of Songs 7:5 181 Joshua, book of 202 Joshua 10:12-13 203, 219 n. 30 Isaiah 7:8 145 Isaiah 23 145 1 Samuel 7:12 66 1 Samuel 18:5 206 n. 56 Jeremiah, book of 72, 112–3, 144, 155 2 Samuel 14:26 188 Jeremiah 19:2 113 Jeremiah 19:6 113 Kings, books of Jeremiah 32:6-15 113 1 Kings 15:33 38 n. 82, 92–93, Jeremiah 32:35 113 2 Kings 2:14 117 Daniel, book of 145, 158 Chronicles, books of 38, 202 Daniel 7:25 42 2 Chronicles 15:16 92–3 Hosea, book of 60 Ezra, book of 144–5, 158 Zechariah, book of 71, 112–3, 155 Tobit, book of 29, 31 Zechariah 11:13 112 Index Locorum Biblicorum 295

Malachi 3:17 60 Luke 22:15 98 Luke 22:19 161 Matthew, gospel of 27, 35, 48, 98, 111, 135, 149, Luke 22:20 115 155, 236 Luke 22:21 147 Matthew 1 65 Luke 23:15 47 Matthew 1:23 66 Luke 23:46 122 Matthew 2:2 150 Luke 24:1 38 Matthew 2:8 150 Luke 24:32 111 Matthew 2:11 150 Luke 24:52 150 Matthew 3:4 44 n. 115 Matthew 4:10 150 John, gospel of 48, 50 n. 144, 94 n. 68, 105, Matthew 5-7 (Sermon on the Mount) 134 106, 107, 128, 135 n. 7, 149, 157 Matthew 5:20 62 John 1:5 120 Matthew 5:28 115 John 1:17 98 Matthew 6:1 71 John 1:28 45 Matthew 14:3 155 John 1:42 72 Matthew 16:3 150 John 4:22 150 Matthew 22:17 155 John 6:32 98 Matthew 25:27 96 John 6:33 161 Matthew 26:26-9 96 John 6:36 146 Matthew 26:26 156, 159 John 6:42 151–2 Matthew 26:27 98 John 6:44 160, 162 Matthew 26:28 152 John 6:45 146 Matthew 26:38 149, 153 John 6:49 160 Matthew 27:9-10 72, 112, 129 John 6:51 153 Matthew 27:28 35 n. 72 John 6:54-6 96 , 98 Matthew 27:46 66 John 7:53-8:11 (Pericope Adulterae) 67, 98, Matthew 28:1 38, 47 114, 216 John 9:7 39 Mark, gospel of 27, 35, 36, 48, 107, 135 n. 7 John 11:33 121–2 Mark 1:40 150 John 14:28 111 Mark 5:16 47 John 17:9 105 n. 10 Mark 6:7 155 John 18:31 45 Mark 7:24 47 John 19:14 38 Mark 8:3 47 John 19:25 135 n. 5 Mark 9:49 27, 40, 147 John 19:30 122 Mark 10:4 150 John 20:1 38 Mark 10:17 150 Mark 10:21 151 Acts, the 27, 48, 89, 126, 135, 167 Mark 10:22 150 Acts 1:2 47 Mark 10:42 151 Acts 1:4 47 Mark 10:50 151 Acts 2:40 47 Mark 14:19 48 Acts 2:46 48 Mark 14:22-4 96, 149 Acts 3:12 72 Mark 15:17 35 n. 72 Acts 5:6 47 Mark 15:23 38 Acts 6:1 120 Mark 16:2 38, 71 Acts 6:1-3 75 Acts 7:15-16 111 Luke, gospel of 27, 48, 96, 135 n. 7, 158 Acts 7:43 72 Luke 3 65 Acts 8:20 100 Luke 4:8 150 Acts 12 158 Luke 6:40 148 Acts 13:8 40 Luke 11:53 Acts 13:18 153, 159 Luke 16:26 47, 48 Acts 14:23 74–5 Luke 20:19 47 Acts 24:1 47 Luke 22:4-20 96 Acts 24:5 47 296 Index Locorum Biblicorum

Acts 27 162 1 Corinthians 11:14-15 171, 175, 178. 181–2, Acts 28:2 48 189–90 1 Corinthians 11:21 156 James, Epistle of 40, 135 1 Corinthians 11:23 97 James 2 135 1 Corinthians 11:23-5 96 James 2:21-2 136 1 Corinthians 14:29 75 1 Corinthians 14:32 75 1 Peter 3 182 1 Corinthians 15:29 27, 48 1 Peter 5:7 87 1 Corinthians 15:32 27, 40 2 Peter 40 2 Corinthians 4:16 58 2 Peter 1:1 146 2 Corinthians 8:19-20 75 2 Peter 2:15 72 2 Corinthians 8:24 75 2 Corinthians 12:2 98 John, epistles of 41 2 Corinthians 12:3-4 97–8 1 John 62 1 John 5:7-8 (Comma Johanneum) 99, 146 Galatians 1:12 97 Galatians 2:2 151 Jude 40 Galatians 2:6 151 Galatians 3:15 47 Romans, Epistle to 8, 58, 110 Galatians 3:17 48 Romans 1:15 47 Galatians 3:19 47 Romans 5:12-14 203, 207, 244 Galatians 7:6 97 Romans 5:13 208 Romans 7 58 n. 28 Ephesians 1:4-5 162 Romans 7:22-3 58 Ephesians 1:5 159 Romans 8 58, 124 Ephesians 3:9 203 Romans 8:8 159 Ephesians 3:16-17 58 Romans 8:28-30 134 n. 3 Romans 8:31 153 Philippians 2:30 23 Romans 8:29-33 99 Philippians 2:13 100 Romans 8:32 160, 216 Romans 8:35 158 Colossians 1:15 72 n. 101 Romans 8:37 138 n. 28 Colossians 1:2 48 Romans 9 58 n. 28 Colossians 1:26 203 Romans 9:5 216 Romans 9:11 100 Hebrews 8:2 98 Romans 9:13 161 Romans 9:15 161 1 Timothy 182 Romans 11:6 146 2 Timothy 1:6 75 Romans 11:10-11 153 n. 97 2 Timothy 1:9 203 Romans 11:13 151 2 Timothy 4:14 75

1 Corinthians 187 Titus, Epistle to 107 1 Corinthians 3:15 27 Titus 1:2 203 1 Corinthians 6:14 139 n. 34 Titus 2 182 1 Corinthians 7:14 152 1 Corinthians 10:16 96 Revelation, book of 41–2, 62, 100, 135 n. 7, 153 1 Corinthians 11 186 Revelation 12:14 42