Preface: An Introduction to Theodoret’s Life and Writings

Εἰς τοὺς ἁγίους πατέρας ἱστορημένους,
ἐν οἷς ἦν καὶ ὁ Θεοδώρητος.

Ἀνιστορήσας τοὺς σοφοὺς διδασκάλους
καὶ τὸν Θεοδώρητον αὐτοῖς συγγράφω
ὡς ἄνδρα θεῖον, ὡς διδάσκαλον μέγαν,
ὡς ἀκράδαντον ὀρθοδοξίας στύλον.
εἰ δ’ ἐκλονήθη μικρὸν ἐκ τινὸς τύχης,
ἄνθρωπος ἦν. ἄνθρωπε, μὴ κατακρίνης·
οὐ γὰρ τοσοῦτον δυσσεβὴς ἦν ὁ κλόνος,
ὅσον μετεῖχε τῆς ἐριστικῆς βίας.
τί γὰρ Κύριλλον πανταχοῦ νικᾶν ἔδει,
καὶ δογματιστὴν ὄντα καὶ λογογράφον;
ὅμως δὲ τοῦτο καὶ διώρθωται πάλιν.
τὰ δ’ ἄλλα πάντα τῶν μεγίστων ποιμένων
βλέπων τὸν ἄνδρα μηδενὸς λελειμμένον
ἐνταῦθα τούτοις εἰκότως συνεγγράφω. [1]

Life

In AD 393 the matron of a wealthy family in Antioch, [2] having asked for the intercessory prayer of an ascetic whom she often visited, a Syrian by the name of Macedonius, “conceived and bore a burden in her womb.” Shortly thereafter “she went to the holy man to show the sheaves of the seeds of his blessing.” [3] Macedonius, in his response to her, said that “it would be fitting to give the child back to the one who gave it [viz. God].” [4] The child’s very name would serve as a constant reminder of this: Theodoret ‘given as a gift from God’.
When Theodoret’s mother, in the fifth month of her pregnancy, was at risk of miscarriage, Macedonius, who had received a vision to that effect, arrived to help her. He comforted her by saying, “Have confidence and do not fear; for the giver will not rescind the gift, unless you transgress the agreements made. You promised to give back what will be given to you and to consecrate it to God’s service.” [5] Then he gave her consecrated water to drink and “the danger of a miscarriage vanished.” [6] In frequent visits as a child to Syrian ascetics with his mother, Theodoret was reminded by Macedonius of his vocation thus:
… you were born, my child, with much toil: I spent many nights begging this alone of God, that your parents should earn the name they received after your birth. So live a life worthy of this toil. Before you were born, you were offered up in promise. Offerings to God are revered by all, and are not to be touched by the multitude: so it is fitting that you do not admit the base impulses of the soul, but perform, speak, and desire those things alone that serve God, the giver of the laws of the virtue. [7]
Elsewhere Theodoret provides us with occasional glimpses of his childhood. While he was sitting at the feet of holy men “Daniel used to say ‘That boy will be a bishop.’ But old Peter would not agree with him, knowing how much my parents doted on me. Often he used to put me on his knees and feed me grapes and bread.” [8]
Growing up in an environment suffused with Christian devotion contributed to a heightened sense of Theodoret’s vocation, poised as he was between the world of Christian charismatics and the need to live up to what was expected of him. While little is known about his education, Theodoret was almost certainly educated in Antioch, which at the time boasted not only one of the highest concentrations of grammarians in the empire but also some of the greatest rhetors, among them Libanius [9] and John Chrysostom.
At the age of 23 Theodoret became a monk in the monastery of Nicerte near the city of Apameia, southeast of Antioch. By 423 he had been consecrated bishop of Cyrrhus, a town about two days away from Antioch. His correspondence, of which only half survives, [10] reveals a bishop willing to confront the social and fiscal strains suffered by his flock by petitioning the emperor and governors, [11] but also keen to help refugees from Carthage and students in search of good Greek education. [12]
Increasingly embroiled in the Christological controversy at growing cost to his official status, Theodoret emerged as one of the chief exponents of Antiochene Christology. [13] Deposed, without trial, by the second council of Ephesus (known as the Robber Council) as a supporter of Nestorius in 449, Theodoret was reinstated by the council of Chalcedon in 451 only after being forced to anathematize Nestorius. Wearied by years of bitter controversy, he retired to his monastic refuge. In the absence of any writings from that period Theodoret slips from view. The exact date of his death remains uncertain, but it may have been as late as 466. [14]
Not long after Theodoret’s death, the subsequent theological divisions between Nestorians and Monophysites led the Monophysite Severus, patriarch of Antioch, not only to denounce Theodoret publicly in a homily delivered in Antioch on 29 December 514, [15] but also to have his name struck from the diptychs of his bishopric in Cyrrhus. In 518 the Monophysite Philoxenus followed Severus’s example. However, Sergius II restored Theodoret’s name to the diptychs. [16]
The council of Constantinople in 553 would affect Theodoret’s reputation and cast a long and lingering shadow on his life and his contribution to theology. In this council, which was summoned by Justinian in order to assuage the Monophysites, some of Theodoret’s writings (Refutation of Cyril’s Anathemas, Pentalogos, [17] now lost, Defence for Diodore and Theodore), along with those of Theodore of Mopsuestia and Diodore of Tarsus, were condemned summarily. [18] This was not enough, however, to diminish the admiration of later Byzantine authors, who drew extensively on what Theodoret had originally been respected for, his Biblical scholarship and his erudition. [19]

Writings

Theodoret was an exceedingly prolific author and a consummate stylist. Marked by the challenge to develop a more solid Christian literature by building upon and adapting preexisting Greek literary culture, his wide range of writings is matched only by the breadth of his vision. A large part of these writings, from apologetic works against paganism to Biblical commentaries and Christological treatises, are his response to the debates and controversies outlined above.
The majority of Theodoret’s work has been preserved. The Therapeutikê and the Ten Discourses on the Divine Providence are considered among his earliest works, written between 427 and 437 and 435 and 437, respectively. [20] But Theodoret’s defense of Christianity and concern with paganism extended well beyond the time of the composition of these two works. In fact, it lasted throughout his life. In the 440s, motivated as much by theological concerns as by the need to situate Syrian ascetics in a spiritual context, Theodoret wrote the Religious History (or History of the Monks of Syria), a series of portraits of Syrian ascetics. [21] This work was the first effort to present Syrian ascetics and their wayward practices in terms recognizable to Christian and non-Christian intellectuals.
In the Ecclesiastical History, written in 450s and covering the period between the death of Constantine, the beginning of the Arian controversy (ca. 325), and the death of Theodore of Mopsuestia (428) [22] —roughly thirty years after the Therapeutikê—Theodoret revisits a number of issues with unremitting fervor. Instead of dwelling on the prosperity of the empire and the relative stability that it enjoyed (as Sozomen and Socrates do), [23] Theodoret emphasizes in a compact, episodic narrative the continued struggle of the church against its enemies. [24] Among other events, he chronicles the Arian controversy, Julian’s reign and death, the destruction of pagan temples and the demise of Chrysostom, the translation of his relics, and the destruction of the Serapeum in Alexandria, as well as the persecutions of the Christians in Persia that took place during his lifetime. [25] Each of these episodes would become emblematic of his world and his times. [26]
An enormous amount of theological learning informed Theodoret’s careful choice of literary forms. His ability to articulate within these different forms would not have been an easy task, given that, at the time, Christian literature as such was still in the making. Many authors were still grappling with such issues as how to accommodate the emperor in historical accounts and how to write in praise of asceticism, monastic and other. Theodoret’s work acts as a response to such (literary) challenges. His literary endeavors display remarkable independence and versatility. [27] That he accomplished the task so seemingly effortlessly must not lead us to underestimate the enormous amount of effort and difficulty involved.
Alongside such compendia as the Therapeutikê, Theodoret put together in 452 or 453 the heresiological tract Compendium of Heretical Falsehoods, [28] the second half of which has been called a “Christian de principiis.” [29] During his involvement in the Christological controversies, Theodoret employed the dialogue, in the Eranistês, to discuss his ideas and provide proof-texts for debate. [30]
His Biblical commentaries, much admired and relied upon by the Byzantines for their concision and clarity of exposition, constitute a large part of his literary output. These commentaries cover topics ranging from the 14 Pauline epistles, [31] the Song of Songs, the Psalms, the major and minor prophets, Baruch, and Jeremiah to the books of Isaiah and Daniel, [32] in addition to a famous collection of questions and answers on disputed passages in the first eight books of the Old Testament. [33]

The text and content of the Therapeutikê

Composed in the 420s, the Therapeutikê is considered one of Theodoret’s earliest literary works. Most likely, it was written in the monastery of Nicerte, southeast of Antioch, which, tellingly, was two to three miles from Apameia, birthplace of the Neoplatonic philosopher Iamblichus and well-known center of Neoplatonic philosophy. Epitomizing as it does Theodoret’s apologetic program, the Therapeutikê forms the core of the book that follows. It comprises 12 lectures (dialexeis). A list of the titles will give an idea of the overall plan and the subject matter of the work:
Dialexis I. On Faith
Dialexis II. On the First Principle
Dialexis III. On Angels, Gods, and Demons
Dialexis IV. On Matter and Cosmos
Dialexis V. On Human Nature
Dialexis VI. On Providence
Dialexis VII. On Sacrifices
Dialexis VIII. On the Cult of the Martyrs
Dialexis IX. On Laws
Dialexis X. On True and False Oracles
Dialexis XI. On the End and (Final) Judgment
Dialexis XII. On Practical Virtue
Theodoret appears to be sensitive to the limitations of his chosen format, as well as to the way that it affects the presentation of his thought. He prefaces the set of lectures with an introduction that lays out the structure of the work and expounds the rationale behind it. The Therapeutikê is arranged in such a way as to enable contemporary readers to explore progressively a number of important issues that were resonating throughout the empire. As will be shown in Chapter Five of this book, by adopting the flexible and versatile dialexis, and by adapting it to suit his needs, Theodoret is able not only to address and refute pagan criticisms, but also to instruct through a careful selection of philosophical set-pieces.
Each of the dialexeis focuses on a carefully delimited topic, as indicated by title, but Theodoret also takes care to convey his rationale. He eases into each topic with a general statement, a quotation from a Greek author, a reflection on a specific issue, or an image. Depending on the subject matter (e.g. Dialexis IV. On Matter and Cosmos) he gives a doxographic account interlaced with his approval or disapproval (qualified or unqualified). As a general pattern (but see exceptions; e.g. Dialexis XII. On Practical Virtue) the first half of each dialexis deals with the critical examination of doxai and the second half with the discussion of their compatibility with the Bible (which is the ultimate criterion except when there are no Biblical precedents to support a Christian practice; e.g. the cult of relics). For the latter, Theodoret tends to provide abundant proof texts from the Bible to buttress his claims. At a number of points in the Therapeutikê, he stops to look back, restate, summarize, or anticipate an argument, and thereby to render explicit certain conceptual links. On top of this cross-referencing, at the end of each dialexis he makes sure to restate the main argument and to contextualize it within the overall direction of the work. Thus Theodoret makes sure that the dialexeis cohere. [34] This cohesiveness, combined with his “relaxed” style, [35] accords well with Theodoret’s overarching concern, accessibility. [36]
As will become clear, while Theodoret is selectively responding to Julian’s critique in the Therapeutikê, he refrains from doing so on a point-by-point basis. Instead, he is equally concerned with untangling several knotty and contested issues in the order and with the priority that he, and not Julian, deems important for clarifying, simplifying, and reducing a mass of material into well-articulated positions. More importantly, in each dialexis Theodoret makes sure to give a careful presentation of central beliefs, and he accounts for those beliefs with ample proofs from the Bible.
The main bulk of quotations aside, the Therapeutikê resembles, in many respects, another set of lectures, the Ten Orations on the Divine Providence, which Theodoret most likely delivered in Antioch. [37] Both are organized thematically and demonstrate Theodoret’s homiletic skills. These affinities leave open the (intriguing) possibility that in the case of the Therapeutikê we may be dealing with a redacted form of lectures possibly originally delivered in Antioch.
In its current version, however, the Therapeutikê was meant to address a much broader audience that extended well beyond Antioch. Thus in assessing Theodoret’s Therapeutikê we must look beyond the immediate conditions that might have led to its writing. For, just as Cyril sought to circulate his Against Julian along with other works across the empire, [38] so too did Theodoret envision an audience far beyond the geographical confines of Antioch or Syria. His was a bid for recognition of literary merit, not only from his colleagues, but ultimately from posterity.

Previous scholarship on Theodoret’s apologetics

As important as this apology is, and as often as it has been cited by scholars to illustrate fifth-century Christian attitudes and debates (seldom on the basis of a thorough acquaintance with the text itself), [39] the text is almost unknown except to specialists in the field.
The first two-volume monograph on Theodoret, by Nikolai Glubokovskii, is Blazhennîi Feodorit episkop Kirrskii (Moscow, 1890), which includes a discussion of Theodoret’s apologetic writings and more specifically the Therapeutikê. Karl Joseph Schulte’s monograph Theodoret von Cyrus als Apologet. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Apologetik (Vienna, 1904) represents the first serious and more widely available attempt to ascertain and quantify Theodoret’s sources, to examine the origin of the criticisms that Theodoret seeks to refute, and to assess the value of the apology.
The first critical edition of the Therapeutikê, by Raeder, follows Schulte in 1908, and a French edition with translation—the only one in any modern European language—is not published until the middle of the twentieth century, in 1958. An English translation is still missing. Pierre Canivet’s Histoire d’une entreprise apologétique au Ve siècle (Paris, 1957) goes a long way toward providing a historical, literary, and archaeological context for the Therapeutikê.
Schulte’s and Canivet’s works are of great industry and lasting value. However, many of the points made in them are due for revision in light of advances that have been made in recent scholarship. The narrowly defined analysis as to whether or not Theodoret knew firsthand the authors he cites (an important issue in itself) overlooks other aspects of his apologetics that are just as interesting. Furthermore, their approach leaves a series of important issues unaddressed. It does not sufficiently account for the use of medical and philosophical lore, which on closer investigation, as I will argue, can yield important results that will ultimately lead to a new and better understanding of both Theodoret’s methods and his achievement.
Since the publication of the studies mentioned above, thinking about Theodoret entirely or almost entirely in terms of the attributes he shares with his predecessors and contemporaries has been characteristic of a large part of twentieth-century (and especially English-speaking) scholarship on Theodoret’s apologetics. A more detailed analysis has been long overdue.
The dissertation upon which the current monograph is based, Christian Therapeia and Politeia: The Apologetics of Theodoret of Cyrrhus against the Greeks (Princeton University, 2004), picks up where these studies leave off and seeks to fill in the gaps that remain. Another recent study of Theodoret’s apologetics, Siniossoglou’s Plato And Theodoret: The Christian Appropriation of Platonic Philosophy and The Hellenic Intellectual Resistance (Cambridge, 2008), focuses on Theodoret’s interpretation and use of Plato. Siniossoglou’s narrow focus often overlaps with the work of Eduard des Places, who analyzes Theodoret’s quotations of Plato in detail. His study certainly does not represent the full range of Theodoret’s concerns, nor does it encapsulate the extent of his thinking on the relationship between Hellenism and Christianity, for there are important aspects of his apologetics left unaddressed.
This book, then, is the first study in English of the Therapeutikê for Hellenic Maladies (hereafter Therapeutikê) in its religious, literary, and cultural contexts, including original translations of some of the most important passages. Combining close textual readings with larger theological, historical, and cultural issues, the book analyzes in detail Theodoret’s argumentation against Greek religion, philosophy, and culture. While the focus is on the Therapeutikê, the study draws on the other works of Theodoret, as well as on a wide range of late antique Greek literature, in order to give a sense of the wider religious and intellectual context that gave weight to many of the themes with which Theodoret grappled.

Theodoret’s reception

Not long after its composition, the Therapeutikê became a resource, not only for Christian authors engaged in debate with pagans, but also—in the long run—for Byzantine intellectuals for whom Theodoret became a highly respected authority. Citations and active use of the Therapeutikê continued into the Byzantine period, past the fifteenth century, and beyond.
Zacharias of Mytilênê draws on Theodoret’s Therapeutikê in his dialogue Ammonius, [40] written in the early sixth century to refute pagan beliefs in the eternity of the world. Passages from the Therapeutikê were later added in the extremely popular seventh-century collection of erôtapokriseis by Anastasius of Sinai, [41] in the martyrdom of Trophimus. [42] There are many other indications that the Therapeutikê and other works by Theodoret were circulating as resources, not least among the Slavs in translated compilations, [43] throughout the Byzantine period. Another example can be found in the work of Peter of Argos, a bishop writing in the Peloponnese in the second half of the ninth century. In his Funeral Oration on Athanasius of Methonê, he draws from Therapeutikê IX. On the Laws [44] to extol Athanasius’ teachings over those of the ancient lawgivers Zalmoxis, Anacharsis, Lykourgos, and Solon, among others. [45]
From the same period comes evidence that the emperor Leo VI, the “Wise” or the “Philosopher,” received a copy of the Therapeutikê as a gift. [46] Also in the ninth century, George the Monk’s Chronicle relies heavily on the Therapeutikê for its polemical presentation of Hellenic paganism; in it Theodoret is presented as an authority on par with Athanasius and John Chrysostom. [47] The Therapeutikê at that time was one of the works that constituted “the philosophical collection” that circulated among Constantinopolitan intellectuals. [48]
The high status later accorded to Theodoret, however, is best summed up in the attitude of the eleventh-century bishop of Euchaita, and teacher of Michael Psellos, Ioannes Mauropous, who himself established the feast of the three hierarchs, which is celebrated to this day in the Greek Orthodox Church. [49] In an epigram, Ioannes praises Theodoret’s erudition, proclaiming him a Doctor of the Church and praying to God for his salvation. [50] Such was his esteem for Theodoret that Ioannes even commissioned an icon of the three hierarchs that also included Theodoret. [51]
In the twelfth century, the Byzantine polymath Michael Glykas adapts material from Theodoret’s Therapeutikê for his Annales and his collection of Kephalaia (or erôtapokriseis). [52] In the same century Ioannes Tzetzes, another Byzantine polymath, cites Theodoret and the Therapeutikê as one of the many authorities in his miscellany, [53] as to a greater extent does the author of the anonymous miscellany from the late fifteenth century. [54] Theodoret’s views on the ensouling of the embryo, presented in Dialexis V. On the Human Nature, [55] would become very influential in patristic discussions and informed Byzantine legal thinking, as illustrated by its appearance in the discussions of the patriarch Gennadius Scholarius in the fifteenth century. [56]
During the Renaissance, manuscripts containing the works of Theodoret became highly sought after. [57] The sustained interest in his works, and in the Therapeutikê in particular, elevated him to the status of a Christian classic. Collections soon followed that combined Theodoret with such authors as Basil, John Chrysostom, and Gregory Nazianzen. [58] The famous Florentine humanist Zanobi Acciaiuoli translated the Therapeutikê into Latin, thus making it available to a much wider audience. [59] An edition of Theodoret’s collected works prepared by Eugenios Voulgarês in Halle between 1768 and 1775 and the frequent use of Theodoret as an authority by the Greek polymath Georgios Koressios (1570ci.–1659/60) [60] point to continued interest in the value of Theodoret’s contribution. [61]

Footnotes

[ back ] 1. Ioannes Mauropous, Metropolite of Euchaita, Epigram 49, from de Lagarde 1979:27. On Theodoret’s reception in Byzantium, see below, p. 9.
[ back ] 2. See Bardy 1946:299–325; Guinot 2001:250–254. For the most recent treatment, see Pásztori-Kupán 2006.
[ back ] 3. Religious History 13.18, trans. Price 1985:106. See also Horn 2007:439–462.
[ back ] 4. Religious History 13.16, trans. Price 1985:106.
[ back ] 5. Religious History 13.17, trans. Price 1985:106.
[ back ] 6. Religious History 13.17, trans. Price 1985:106.
[ back ] 7. Religious History 13.18, trans. Price 1985:107.
[ back ] 8. Religious History 9.4, trans. Price 1985:83.
[ back ] 9. Cribiore 2007.
[ back ] 10. Allen 2006:3–21.
[ back ] 11. Tompkins 1993; Bellini 1977:227–236; Di Paola 2006:155–176.
[ back ] 12. Theodoret’s epistolary and patronage network is fully analyzed by Schor 2011:133–179.
[ back ] 13. For a recent but not unproblematic assessment of his Christology, see Clayton 2007. Fairbairn 2007:100–133.
[ back ] 14. So Honigmann 1953:174–184. Azéma 1984:137–155 argues for the earlier date of 460.
[ back ] 15. Allen and Hayward 2004:17.
[ back ] 16. Pásztori-Kupán 2006:27.
[ back ] 17. For a recently discovered fragment of this work, see Guinot 2007:117–129.
[ back ] 18. For further details, see Price 2007:17–37.
[ back ] 19. For the reception of Theodoret in Byzantium and beyond, see below, p. 9.
[ back ] 20. Richard 1935:83–106.
[ back ] 21. Canivet 1977-1979; Canivet 1977; Urbainczyk 2002.
[ back ] 22. Theodoret, Kirchengeschichte, ed. Parmentier 1998. See also Histoire ecclésiastique / Théodoret de Cyr, ed. Parmentier and Hansen 2006(I).
[ back ] 23. Van Nuffelen 2004.
[ back ] 24. See Chapter Five.
[ back ] 25. Leppin 1996a.
[ back ] 26. See more recently Martin 2005:135–147.
[ back ] 27. On the literary merits of Theodoret and his approach to writing, see Krueger 1997:393–419 and 707–719. Both are included in Krueger 2004.
[ back ] 28. See Cope 1990 and Sillett 2000:261–273.
[ back ] 29. Young 1983:288.
[ back ] 30. Eranistês, ed. Ettlinger 1975.
[ back ] 31. Commentary on the Letters of St. Paul, Hill 2001.
[ back ] 32. Theodoret of Cyrus: Commentary on Daniel, Hill 2006.
[ back ] 33. The Questions on the Octateuch, ed. Petruccione 2007. Guinot (forthcoming); Petruccione (forthcoming).
[ back ] 34. In comparison with the Against Julian, begun by Theodoret’s contemporary Cyril of Alexandria perhaps in 420s but completed around 439–441, Theodoret’s Therapeutikê is more wide-ranging in its scope. When he wrote the Therapeutikê, he was aware of Cyril’s Against Julian, as shown by his letter 83, in which he congratulates Cyril on his achievement.
[ back ] 35. Therapeutikê, prologue 3: “τὸν ἀνειμένον δὲ χαρακτῆρα τοῖς λόγοις ἐντέθεικα· τῇ διδασκαλίᾳ γὰρ εἶναι τοῦτον ὑπείληφα πρόσφορον.”
[ back ] 36. See Chapter Five.
[ back ] 37. Halton 1988:3.
[ back ] 38. For Cyril’s literary ambitions and his efforts to have his works circulate across the empire, see Russell 2000:222n151.
[ back ] 39. Runia 1997:106; Kaldellis 2008:138; Kahlos 2007. Schott 2008:170 speaks of the ossification of apologetics in the case of Theodoret, Cyril, and Augustine.
[ back ] 40. Especially the first four books of the Therapeutikê and perhaps the Ten Discourses on the Divine Providence. See Zacharias of Mytilênê Ammonius, ed. Minniti Colonna 1973:45, 47, 51.
[ back ] 41. PG 89:397–400 (Q. 8), 481–484 (Q. 16), 691 (Q. 46), 624 (Q. 57); Canivet 2000–2001(II):467. These questions, however, do not belong to the original collection as edited by Richard and Munitiz 2006.
[ back ] 42. Mercati 1901:207–226, esp. 218; Canivet 2000-2001(II):468.
[ back ] 43. Thomson (forthcoming).
[ back ] 44. Therapeutikê 9.11–13.
[ back ] 45. Kyriakopoulos 1976: “Πέτρου Ἄργους, ‘Εἰς τὸν Ἀθανάσιον ἐπίσκοπον Μεθώνης’” (54); see Kyriakopoulos 1976:37–67; 214–223; 275–316.
[ back ] 46. Schamp 2004:537, esp. n5. Also Westerink 1990:105–123.
[ back ] 47. Karpozêlos 1997–2002(II):243–249; Canivet 2000–2001(II):467–468.
[ back ] 48. Cavallo 2007:155–165.
[ back ] 49. Gazê 2004:140–141.
[ back ] 50. Epigram 49, ed. de Lagarde 1979:27.
[ back ] 51. Karpozêlos 1982:104.
[ back ] 52. Eis tas aporias tes Theias Graphes Kephalaia, ed. Eustratiades 1906(I):241 (Q. 20); idem, Annales, ed. Bekker 1836:151, 201. See also Papadogiannakis 2009:130–142, at 134.
[ back ] 53. Ioannis Tzetzae Book of Histories 9.861–863, ed. Leone 1968:379–380.
[ back ] 54. Nyström 2009:68, 97, 134, 152–155, 162, 212–213.
[ back ] 55. Crego 1996:19–37.
[ back ] 56. Troianos 1999:179–184.
[ back ] 57. Petitmengin 2002:3–31.
[ back ] 58. For further details, see Bossina 2006:231–291, esp. 257.
[ back ] 59. Zanobi Acciaiuoli (1461–1519) and Friedrich Sylburg (1536–1596), Theodorētou episkopou Kyrou Hellēnikōn pathēmatōn therapeutikē (Heidelberg: Ex typographeio H. Commelini, 1592). On Acciaiuoli’s use of Theodoret, see Nardi 1991:9–63. Guerra Morisi 1991:89–108. See Vicario 2000:119–158.
[ back ] 60. Stoupakês 2000:273, 309, 466, 472, 518.
[ back ] 61. Jacques Sirmond (1559–1651) and Johann Ludwig Schulze (1734–1799), Tou Makariou Theodoretou Episkopou Kyrou Hapanta = B. Theodoreti Episcopi Cyri, opera omnia (Halae: Typis et Impensis Bibliopolii Orphanotrophii, 1769–1774).