Women's Literacy in Antiquity

Cleobuline

The evidence of ancient literature is that, at every level, women were less likely to be literate than men, but literate women were by no means unknown or uncommon as is sometimes represented today. While the idea that girls as well as boys should be educated was not the majority view, some as early as Cleobulus (600 B.C.) did think so:

Cleobulus practiced what he preached: "He [Cleobulus] had a daughter Cleobuline, who composed riddles in hexameters; she is mentioned by Cratinus, who gives one of his plays her name, in the plural form Cleobulinae." (Diogenes Laertius, Lives of Eminent Philosophers, Volume 1, Book 1, 89). Or perhaps explaining how Cleobuline "composed riddles in hexameters" without being literate will not tax our modern scholars' ambition, given what else they're willing to accommodate to their assumption of ancient illiteracy.

Sappho

"'Who was Atthis?' men shall ask,
When the world is old, and time
Has accomplished without haste
The strange destiny of men.

"Haply in that far-off age
One shall find these silver songs,
With their human freight, and guess
What a lover Sappho was." (Sappho, XXXIV)

'Who was Atthis?' A victim of child molestation, posterity replies. At any event, the evidence of Sappho's polished output is that she was literate.

Phaedra

Surviving caches of letters preserved by Egypt's dry heat contain many letters written by women. The partisans of ancient illiteracy point to the presence in the ancient world of business establishments that correlate with Kinko's or Mailboxes, Etc., where an illiterate client might dictate a letter, or have one read. There were indeed such establishments, and even literate persons like Paul preferred to dictate letters, as indeed many businessmen do today.

For this reason this page stresses letters whose authors might not have wanted their contents made public, like an adulterous love note...or a suicide note. Had Phaedra called in her stenographer and purred, 'be a dear and take down this suicide note,' would not this functionary have raised a hue and cry throughout the palace, that the queen was planning to do away with herself?

The plot of Euripides' 'Hipploytus' hangs upon Phaedra's suicide note, with its lethal false accusation. After Phaedra hangs herself, her husband notices a tablet tied to her wrist:

Euripides, though a daring innovator at times, is here just telling the traditional story:

"Phaedra fell in love with her stepson, and sent her nurse to him; but he left Athens and, coming to Troezen, devoted himself to hunting. But when the wanton woman failed to obtain her cherished desire, she indited a false letter against the chaste youth and ended her life with a halter. Theseus believed the letter and asked from Poseidon the destruction of Hippolytus as fulfilment of one of the three wishes which he had as a concession from Poseidon." (Pseudo-Plutarch, Parallel Stories 34, Moralia Volume IV).

If Phaedra did not write this suicide note, who did? If Phaedra was illiterate, how did she manage to write a suicide note?

Whatever Phaedra's ontological status, the author and his audience saw nothing out of place in a woman writing, in her own hand, a suicide note.

Daphne

In antiquity there were women associated with temple sites who 'prophesied,'— raved is more like it,— upon exposure to noxious gases or perhaps simple deprivation of oxygen. A library of literature has come down to us under the name of Plutarch, some of which may have been written by the author of the Parallel Lives, but much likely not. One work in this library, 'On the Cessation of the Oracles,' describes the procedure employed at these places. The woman would be exposed to springs of water or vents in seismically active areas: ". . .the earth sends forth springs of water productive of various effects upon mankind—some being productive of delirium, and disease, and death; and others that are good, benignant, and salubrious, as they prove by experience to such as frequent them. But the prophetic stream or blast is the most godlike and most holy, whether it be taken in with the air or drawn from the liquid fountain. . ." (Plutarch, On the Cessation of the Oracles, XL.) In at least one instance, these fumes or the lack of oxygen proved lethal to the unfortunate woman: "At last being completely driven out of her senses, and rushing with a shriek to the entrance, she threw herself on the ground; so that not only the consulters took to flight in terror, but even the interpreter Nicander, and such of the holy men as were present. After a little while, however, they went in again, and picked her up—she was insane, and only survived for a few days." (Plutarch, On the Cessation of the Oracles, LI.) In some cases the ravings of these addled women were noted down by assistants, tidied up, rendered plausible and cast into hexameters by other hands. But in some cases they did it themselves:

"Consequently the Cadmeans left the city, as the seer had counseled them to do, and gathered for refuge by night in a place in Boeotia called Tilphossaeum. Thereupon the Epigoni took the city and sacked it, and capturing Daphnê, the daughter of Teiresias, they dedicated her, in accordance with a certain vow, to the service of the temple at Delphi as an offering to the god of the first-fruits of the booty. This maiden possessed no less knowledge of prophecy than her father, and in the course of her stay at Delphi she developed her skill to a far greater degree; moreover, by virtual of the employment of a marvelous natural gift, she also wrote oracular responses of every sort, excelling in their composition; and indeed it was from her poetry, they say, that the poet Homer took many verses which he appropriated as his own and with them adorned his own poesy. And since she was often like one inspired when she delivered oracles, they say that she was also called Sibylla, for to be inspired in one’s tongue is expressed by the word sibyllainein." (Diodorus Siculus, Library of History, Book IV, 66.5-6).

Professional activity as a poet is not itself conclusive proof of literacy. The ancients themselves told of Homer, the blind bard, whose knowledge of preceding literature could only have come from recitation and memory, not reading, Braille not yet having been invented. Indeed we know of cases of illiterate authors who produced their volumes through dictation. The 'unlettered prophet,' Mohammed ibn Abdallah, although on his death-bed he requested writing materials (Sahih Bukhari Volume 4, Book 52, Number 288), possessed a degree of verbal skill falling short of true literacy. Yet he produced a large book, the Koran, parts of which are of considerable literary quality though the whole is marred by repetition and disorganization.

However, where poetry is polished and filled with literary allusions, such professional activity is at a minimum presumptive evidence in favor of literacy, if admittedly not conclusive proof. An illiterate author requires assistance as her literate sister does not; can such assistance, by literate scribes, researchers, and helpers, always be presumed available? The more precious, polished and recondite the verses, the less likely their author does not natively inhabit the poetry world. So, yes, there could be an illiterate poet, though most poets are literate, and one would not rummage through the ranks of poets expecting to find illiterates; look elsewhere. Thus, the female poets of antiquity provide circumstantial evidence against the claim of women's near-universal illiteracy.

Pindar's Relative

"There was an old woman in Thebes who was closely related to Pindar and had learnt how to sing most of his songs. Pindar came to this old woman in a dream and sang a hymn to Persephone; as soon as this sleep left her she wrote down everything she heard him singing in the dream." (Pausanias, Guide to Greece, Volume 1, Book IX, 23.2)

Notice she did not go out to her local Kinko's to record this posthumous work of Pindar, she wrote it down herself "as soon as this sleep left her."

Among the Scythians

The Scythians were a barbarous people with whom the Greeks had contact. Their region includes modern-day Russia. A civilized, Greek-speaking woman happened to marry a Scythian chieftain, according to Herodotus, and naturally enough taught her son Greek:

How did this woman, who must have been illiterate,-- as were, modern scholars assure us, almost all women in classical antiquity,-- manage to teach her son "the Greek language and letters"?

Eurydice

Another woman who taught her children, learning letters late in life so that she could do so, was Euydice of Hierapolis:

"And here we may take example from Eurydice of Hierapolis, who, although she was an Illyrian, and so thrice a barbarian, yet applied herself to learning when she was well advanced in years, that she might teach her children. Her love towards her children appears evidently in this Epigram of hers, which she dedicated to the Muses:

"Eurydice to the Muses here doth raise
This monument, her honest love to praise;
Who her grown sons that she might scholars breed,
Then well in years, herself first learned to read."

(Plutarch, The Training of Children)

Aspasia

When the space shuttle blew up, President Ronald Reagan delivered a graceful little address that impressed people so much, they started wondering, who wrote it? When the writer turned out to be Peggy Noonan, a White House speech-writer, no one found this factoid scurrilous or incredible.

The Socratic dialogue 'Menexenus' reports that Athenian general Pericles had a Peggy Noonan; her name was Aspasia. 'Menexenus' is sometimes listed in the Platonic canon, sometimes not. This dialogue includes a 'sample' speech which, if the reader cares to analyze it, can scarcely be thought to have been written by an illiterate person. It would be difficult for an illiterate author to compile such facts and figures about military operations as are incorporated into that speech. Plutarch, a careful researcher, thought that a.) Plato had written the Menexenus, and b.) the information reported about Aspasia was accurate:

"Aspasia, some say, was courted and caressed by Pericles upon account of her knowledge and skill in politics. Socrates himself would sometimes go to visit her, and some of his acquaintance with him; and those who frequented her company would carry their wives with them to listen to her. Her occupation was anything but creditable, her house being a home for young courtesans. Aeschines tells us, also, that Lysicles, a sheep-dealer, a man of low birth and character, by keeping Aspasia company after Pericles's death, came to be a chief man in Athens. And in Plato's Menexenus, though we do not take the introduction as quite serious, still thus much seems to be historical, that she had the repute of being resorted to by many of the Athenians for instruction in the art of speaking." (Plutarch, Life of Pericles).

It seems doubtful that Plato did write the 'Menexenus,' as it breaks into the charmed circle of Socratic discourse according to which 'the many' lived lives devoted to animal pleasures. As this dialogue shows, during this period, the kind of oratory that appealed to 'the many' featured dead soldiers exhorting those who survived them to practice virtue, a familiar enough theme to readers of Greek oratory which, however, falls outside the Socratic paradigm. There is not enough of the oft-cited 'Socratic irony' in the dialogue to cover up this discordant fact about the Athenian 'many.' Whoever the author actually was, he was an ancient Athenian, and there is no good reason to discount the information about the eloquent, and literate, Aspasia.

Pythagoras' Mother

"Pythagoras, on coming to Italy, made a subterranean dwelling and enjoined on his mother to mark and record all that passed, and at what hour, and to send her notes down to him until he should ascend. She did so." (Diogenes Laertius, Lives of Eminent Philosophers, Volume II, Book VIII, Chapter 1, 41).

Some say his wife, Theano, also wrote philosophical works.

"Moreover, some say that Phanothea, the wife of Icarius, invented the heroic hexameter; others Themis, one of the Titanides. Didymus, however, in his work On the Pythagorean Philosophy, relates that Theano of Crotona was the first woman who cultivated philosophy and composed poems." (Clement of Alexandria, Stromata, Miscellanies, Book 1, Chapter 16).

Leontion

Epicurus the philosopher is reported to have written letters to Leontion the courtesan and to Themista, the wife of a disciple:

"Also that in his letters he wrote to Leontion, 'O Lord Apollo, my dear little Leontion, with what tumultuous applause we were inspired as we read your letter.' Then again to Themista, the wife of Leonteus: 'I am quite ready, if you do not come to see me, to spin thrice on my own axis...'" (Diogenes Laertius, Lives of Eminent Philosophers, Volume II, Book X, 5)

Diogenes, an Epicurean, waxes indignant at these reports and seeks to discredit them, although he concedes these women were part of Epicurus' social circle. Whether or not the philosopher who made pleasure the end of life corresponded with courtesans, these reports cannot have originated in a social milieu in which women were assumed illiterate and incapable of assimilating private correspondence.

Telesilla

"Above the theater stands a sanctuary of Aphrodite. In front of the goddess's place Telesilla, the composer of the songs, has been carved on a slab of stone; her books are thrown about at her feet; she is looking at a helmet she has in her hand and is going to put on. Telesilla was a very famous woman and a distinguished poet." (Pausanias, Guide to Greece, Volume 1, Book II, Corinth and the Argolid, 20.7)

Pausanias quotes verses by Telesilla, so evidently there was actual poetry circulating under this name. Another female poet Pausanias mentions is "Moiro of Byzantium, who composed epic and elegiac verse" (Pausanias, Guide to Greece, Volume 1, Book IX, Boiotia, 5.4).

Corinna

Another woman poet reportedly won a prize in competition with Pindar, though Pausanias grouses it must have been her dialect that won, not her poems:

"The memorial of Korinna, the only Tanagran composer of songs, is at a conspicuous point of the city; in the training-ground there is a picture of Corinna tying her hair with a ribbon for the victory she won over Pindar at Thebes." (Pausanias, Guide to Greece, Volume 1, Book IX, Boetia, 22.3)

She reviewed Pindar's poems:

"Which admonition Pindar laying up in his mind, wrote a certain ode which thus begins:
"Shall I Ismenus sing,
Or Melia, that from spindles all of gold
Her twisted yarn unwinds,
Or Cadmus, that most ancient king. . .

"Which when he showed to Corinna, she with a smile replied: When you sow, you must scatter the seed with your hand, not empty the whole sack at once." (Plutarch, Whether the Athenians were more Renowned for their Warlike Achievements or for their Learning, The Morals, Volume 5, Section 4).

Praxilla

"Praxilla, the Sicyonian poetess, was also celebrated for the composition of scholia." (Athenaeus of Naucratis, The Banquet of the learned of Athenæus, Volume III , Book XV, 49).

Only a scattering of fragments of this woman's literary output remain, which is understandable if this memorial of Adonis is typical: "Finest of all the things I have left is the light of the sun, Next to that the brilliant stars and the face of the moon, Cucumbers in their season, too, and apples and pears." Cucumbers? This verse, according to Zenobius, was the basis for the proverbial expression, "sillier than Praxilla's Adonis." Nevertheless, she must have been literate. Tatian thought little of her poems:

"For Lysippus cast a statue of Praxilla, whose poems contain nothing useful, and Menestratus one of Learchis, and Selanion one of Sappho the courtesan, and Naucydes one of Erinna the Lesbian, and Boiscus one of Myrtis, and Cephisodotus one of Myro of Byzantium, and Gomphus one of Praxigoris, and Amphistratus one of Clito. And what shall I say about Anyta, Telesilla, and Mystis? Of the first Euthycrates and Cephisodotus made a statue, and of the second Niceratus, and of the third Aristodotus; Euthycrates made one of Mnesiarchis the Ephesian, Selanion one of Corinna, and Euthycrates one of Thalarchis the Argive." (Tatian, Address to the Greeks, Chapter 33).

Tatian brings these considerations up, not as an unprovoked attack against the pagans, but in answer to their charge that Christian assemblies include women: "You who say that we talk nonsense among women and boys, among maidens and old women, and scoff at us for not being with you, hear what silliness prevails among the Greeks." (Tatian, Address to the Greeks, Chapter 33). This misogynistic charge against the Christians was a frequent resort of anti-Christian polemicists.

Lovers' Leap

"The lofty promontory gives a suggestion of the following tale: A boy and girl, both beautiful and under the tutelage of the same teacher, burned with love for each other; and since they were not free to embrace each other, they determined to die at this very rock, and leaped from it into the sea in their first and last embrace." (Philostratus the Elder, Imagines, Book I. 12.3)

The Loeb edition adds another citation for this tale: "Cf. Xenophon, Conviv. 4. 23...'This hot flame of his was kindled when they used to go to school together.'" I'm not suggesting this event actually happened any more than that jilted Indian maidens flung themselves from all the rock outcroppings in New Jersey and Pennsylvania from which they are alleged to have done so; certain landscape features just seem to elicit this story.

Nevertheless, to those to told the story to Philostratus and to Xenophon before him, there seemed nothing implausible about a boy and a girl going to school together.

Anyte

"The Sanctuary of Asklepios was in ruins; it was originally built by Phalysios, a private individual. He had an eye disease and was nearly blind, and the god at Epidauros sent Anyte the poet to take Phalysios a written and sealed tablet. She thought this order was a dream, but she suddenly awoke and found the writing with the seals on it really in her hands: so she sailed to Naupaktos and told Phalysios to take off the seal and read what was written. He felt it would be beyond him to see this writing, because of the state his eyes were in, but hoping for a blessing from Asklepios he took off the seal and as he looked at the wax he was cured; so he gave Anyte what was written on the tablet: two thousand gold pieces." (Pausanias, Guide to Greece, Volume I, Book X, 38.7)

Leave aside for the moment the entrepreneurial Anyte's creative way of making a living: I'm surprised she didn't tell Phalysios she was from Nigeria and had cancer. She was nevertheless a real person, and a real poet.

Timoxena

"As for love of ornament, do you, Eurydice, read and try to remember what Timoxena wrote to Aristylla." (Plutarch, 'Rules for Husband and Wife,' 48).

Timoxena was Plutarch's wife. His little daughter Timoxena, whose untimely death prompted his 'Letter of Consolation to His Wife,' was named after her: "But this one I know was especially dear to you...and so I gave her your name."

Love-Letters

One of the givens of the modern assault on ancient literacy is that women were almost never literate. This assumption can be confirmed neither from ancient Greek nor Roman literature, which reports unfaithful wives writing love-notes to their lovers:

The premise that almost all the populace in antiquity was illiterate is crucial to the modern deconstruction of the New Testament. It is assumed by secular Bible scholars from Rudolph Bultmann onward that Jesus' lore was conserved orally for decades before ever being committed to paper, as if he were a sage on a savage South Seas Island. This idea never could have gained credence when most people had a basic familiarity with the literature of the Greeks and Romans, because widespread illiteracy is not what's found in that literature.

Ovid also offers the advice to the would-be adulterer to start by sending letters:

"By letters, not by words, thy love begin;
And ford the dangerous passage with thy pen;
If to her heart thou aim'st to find the way,
Extremely flatter and extremely pray. . .
Write then, and in thy letter, as I said,
Let her with mighty promises be fed.
Cydyppe by a letter was betray'd,
Writ on an apple to th' unwary maid;
She read herself into a marriage vow,
(And every cheat in love the gods allow.). . .
If seal'd she sends it back, and will not read,
Yet hope, in time, the business may succeed. . .
Perhaps she writes, and answers with disdain,
And sharply bids you not to write again:
What she requires, she fears you would accord;
The jilt would not be taken at her word." (Ovid, The Art of Love, Book I).

Why this would be safe advice if the woman were presumed illiterate is unclear. We think of the Romans of this period as decadent, as indeed they were, and as they also saw themselves. However, adultery was with them at various times a criminal offense, as it is not with us, and throughout, the husband who returned home to find an intruder in his bed was fully within his legal rights to kill him then and there. If she responded to an unexpected letter by wandering around the house asking any available male, including her husband, to read it to her, this might have unwelcome consequences. Ovid's specific instructions to the maid who is to deliver the love-letter is to stand there and watch as she reads it:

"Tell her the letter will the rest explain,
And does my soul, and all its hopes contain.
But time, while I am speaking, flies: be sure
To give the billet in a leisure hour:
Don't be content with her imperfect view,
But make her, when she has it, read it through.
[Vacuae bene redde tabellas,
Verum continuo fac tamen illa legat.
Adspicias oculos mando frontemque legentis;
Et tacito vultu scire futura licet. Line 15-18]
I charge thee, as she reads, observe her eyes,
Catch, if thou canst, her gentle looks and sighs;
As these are sure presages of my joy,
So frowns and low'rs my flattering hopes destroy.
Pray her, when she has read it, to indite
An answer, and a long epistle write.
I hate a billet, where at once I view
A page all empty, but a line or two.
Let her without a margin fill it up,
And crowd it from the bottom to the top.
But why should I her pretty fingers tire?" (Ovid, Amores, 1.11).

Ovid specifically warns women to be careful to whom they entrust their love-letters, because of the danger of black-mail:

"But since (tho' chastity be not your care)
You from your husband still would hide th' affair,
Write to no stranger till his truth be tried;
Nor in a foolish messenger confide.
What agonies that woman undergoes,
Whose hand the traitor threatens to expose;
Who rashly trusting, dreads to be deceiv'd,
And lives for ever to that dread enslav'd!" (Ovid, The Art of Love, Book III).

Ovid actually advises them to disguise their hand-writing: "But since your letters may be brought to light, What if in sev'ral hands you learn to write?" (Ovid, The Art of Love, Book III). If they are dictating these letters to a paid scribe, why is this precaution necessary? Or the precaution of writing her letters while in the bathroom, or with invisible ink?:

"Tho' stuck with Argus' eyes your keeper were,
Advis'd by me you shall elude his care.
When you to wash or bathe retire from sight,
Can he observe what letters then you write?" (Ovid, The Art of Love, Book III).

To be sure Ovid addresses himself to those who are likely to purchase his books, not rural slaves. But if literate women were rare exceptions to the general rule, then his advice is pointless (and not only in this ill-favored case). Connect the dots. If most city-dwellers were literate, then there is no reason to suppose the memoirs of Jesus' followers conserved in the New Testament are anything but early and authentic. The contrary premise is therefore critical to modern 'Jesus' scholarship and thus should be examined carefully by fair-minded seekers.

The evidence is there in bushels, because the ancients, for all their purported illiteracy, were a voluble lot who couldn't stop themselves from filling up libraries, all unread. A good place to start:

Hortensia

From Cleobulus' day to Quintilian, there was never a time when women's literacy lacked advocates, nor practitioners such as the eloquent Hortensia:

Virginia

The nefarious Appius Claudius sought to abduct the chaste Virginia where?-- on her way to school:

"Appius Claudius was seized with a criminal passion for violating the person of a young woman of plebeian rank. Lucius Verginius, the girl's father, held an honourable rank among the centurions at Algidum, a man who was a pattern of uprightness both at home and in the service. His wife and children were brought up in the same manner. He had betrothed his daughter to Lucius Icilius, who had been tribune, a man of spirit and of approved zeal in the interest of the people. Appius, burning with desire, attempted to seduce by bribes and promises this young woman, now grown up, and of distinguished beauty; and when he perceived that all the avenues of his lust were barred by modesty, he turned his thoughts to cruel and tyrannical violence. Considering that, as the girl's father was absent, there was an opportunity for committing the wrong; he instructed a dependent of his, Marcus Claudius, to claim the girl as his slave, and not to yield to those who demanded her enjoyment of liberty pending judgment. The tool of the decemvir's lust laid hands on the girl as she was coming into the forum--for there the elementary schools were held in booths--calling her the daughter of his slave and a slave herself, and commanded her to follow him, declaring that he would drag her off by force if she demurred. The girl being struck dumb with terror, a crowd collected at the cries of her nurse, who besought the protection of the citizens." (Livy, History of Rome, Book III, 50)

Some might object: but she just happened to be walking by the school booths, that doesn't mean she was a student. But what is proper procedure for kidnapping? Isn't it best to map out the target's daily route and lay in wait where you expect to find her?

Caecilius' Girlfriend

Catullus wanted his friend the poet Caecilius to come and visit him in Verona, I wouldn't care to inquire for what purpose. Catullus perceives an obstacle, Caecilius' girlfriend: "...though his fair lady should call him back a thousand times..." What sparked this lady's possessiveness? She had read a poem about Cybele which Caecilius had begun:

"She now, if a true tale is brought to me, dotes on him with passionate love. For since she read the beginning of his 'Lady of Dindymus,' ever since then, poor girl, the fires have been wasting her inmost marrow. I can feel for you, maiden more scholarly than the Sapphic Muse; for Caecilius has indeed made a lovely beginning to his 'Magna Mater.'" (The Poems of Catullus, XXXV, pp. 41-43, Catullus, Tibullus, and Pervigilium Veneris, J. W. Mackail, revised by G. P. Goold).

If this lady couldn't read, as the Jesus Seminar informs us, then why did the beginning of this poem light a fire?

Neaera

And why did Lygdamus bother sending his poems to his beloved, as the Muses recommended?:

"'Poetry is the lure for the beautiful, gold for the greedy: so let there be verses from you to gladden her as she deserves. But first let yellow parchment wrap the snow-white roll and pumice shear its hoary locks, and letters traced to show thy name border the high top of the fine papyrus, and let the horned knobs mid both its fronts be painted. For in such trim guise must thy work be sent.'

"Inspirers of this my song, I entreat ye by the shade of Castaly and the Pieran springs go to the house, and give her the dainty book just as it is; let none of its bloom be lost. She will send me answer if her love is still as mine, or if it is less, or if I have fallen wholly out of her heart." (The Third Book, Elegies of Lygdamus, I, p. 287, Catullus, Tibullus, and Pervigilium Veneris, translated by J. W. Mackail, revised by G. P. Goold.)

Why bother sending the book over to her house if she couldn't read?

Sulpicia

"At last the love I've waited for has come.
(No shame to say so: more to cover up).
My Camenae called on her in prayer,
and Cytherea brought him to my heart.

"Venus kept her promise: now she can tell
my tale of joy to those who don't believe.
I hardly want to give this letter up
so no one else sees it before he does.
I'm glad I did it -- why wear a prudish mask,
as if he wasn't good enough for me!" (Sulpicia, Six Poems).

Notice please that Sulpicia the poet does not want to give her love poem up to any but its gentleman recipient. None of the machinery postulated by the promoters of ancient illiteracy: the transcriptionist et al,-- is present.

Heroides

The Latin author Ovid wrote a book called 'Heroides' imagining the letters various historic and/or mythic ladies might have written to the men who wronged them. Admittedly this work of fiction has no direct evidentiary value, as the named ladies did not write these letters, Ovid did. However it is clear that Ovid was unfamiliar with the concept of modern 'Jesus' scholarship that women who authored letters dictated their words to a professional scribe:

"From stolen Briseis is the writing you read, scarce charactered in Greek by her barbarian hand. Whatever blots you shall see, her tears have made; but tears, too, have none the less the weight of words." (Ovid, Heroides, III).

How could the authoress' tears have blotted the pages, when it was the scribe, not she, hovering over the work? Why does Penelope specify that the missives she hands to visiting strangers in hopes they will encounter her wandering husband were written by her own fingers?: "...and into his hand is given the sheet writ by these fingers of mine..." (Ovid, Heroides, I). What difference does it make that Ariadne's hand 'trembles' if she is dictating: "My body is a-quiver like standing corn struck by the northern blast, and the letters I am tracing falter beneath my trembling hand." (Ovid, Heroides, X), or indeed how is she writing a letter on an island she is not sure is inhabited: "The words you now are reading, Thesues, I send you from that shore from which the sails bore off your ship without me, the shore on which my slumber, and you, so wretchedly betrayed me..." (Ovid, Heroides, X); compare with, "What am I to do? Whither shall I take myself – I am alone, and the isle untilled. Of human traces I see none; of cattle, none." (Ovid, Heroides, X). Surely the scribe to whom she was dictating was human!

How is it that Canace is dripping blood on the letter she is writing, if someone else is writing it?:

"If aught of what I write is yet blotted deep and escapes your eye, ‘twill be because the little roll has been stained by its mistress’ blood. My right hand holds the pen, a drawn blade the other holds, and the paper lies unrolled in my lap." (Ovid, Heroides, XI).

Ovid depicts Medea as wondering why her right hand was strong enough to commit wicked crimes, but not to write: "In this one place my pen fails. Of the deed my right hand was bold enough to do, it is not bold enough to write." (Ovid,  Heroides, XII)...though if she were illiterate, her hand's inability is self-explanatory. Hypermnestra finds the chains that bind her a hindrance to writing: "I would write more; but my hand falls with the weight of my chains, and very fear takes away my strength." (Ovid, Heroides, XIV). Why is this a problem, if she is dictating the letter? Sappho this male author imagines as writing to Phaon, "Tell me, when you looked upon the characters from my eager right hand, did your eye know forthwith whose they were..." (Ovid, Heroides, XV), without explaining how such recognition would be meaningful in a dictated letter. Again we have an authoress blotting the writing with her falling tears: "I write, and my eyes let fall the springing tears like drops of dew; look, how many a blot obscures this place!" (Ovid, Heroides, XV), though this must be projectile crying if another is handling the pen.

This male author imagined these women as writing their letters with their own right hand. Why did people who knew the culture first-hand not understand that women dictated their missives, leaving it to the genius of the moderns to discover? Though Ovid did not watch these women, some of them non-existent, write their letters, he had seen the women he knew writing letters and knew how it was done.

Cleopatra

"A man from the country came bringing a basket, and when the guards asked what was in it, he opened it and taking off the leaves showed them a dish full of figs...After eating, Cleopatra took a tablet which she had already inscribed and sealed and sent it to Caesar." (Plutarch, Life of Antony, 85, Plutarch's Lives)

Cleopatra, bitten by the asp, made use of no intermediaries to communicate her final wishes to Caesar; those around her were under orders to prevent her suicide. Her impressive language skills were not a family tradition:

"With few barbarians did she [Cleopatra] ever converse through an interpreter, and to most of them she made her replies without help, as, for instance, to Troglodytes, Hebrews, Arabs, Syrians, Medes, and Parthians. She is said to have known the speech of many other peoples besides, though the kings, her predecessors, had not troubled to learn even the Egyptian tongue, while some of them had given up the Macedonian." (Plutarch, Life of Antony, 27, Plutarch's Lives).

Sempronia

"Among their number was Sempronia, a woman who had committed many crimes that showed her to have the reckless daring of a man. Fortune had favored her abundantly, not only with birth and beauty, but with a good husband and children. Well educated in Greek and Latin literature, she had greater skill in lyre-playing and dancing than there is any need for a respectable woman to acquire, besides many other accomplishments such as minister to dissipation." (Sallust, The Conspiracy of Cataline, Chapter II.)

This 'pink lady' was involved in Cataline's conspiracy.

Caligula's Sisters

Being related to Caesar reduced one's expected life span. Nero went so far as to kill his own mother, on grounds she was plotting against him. The proof Caligula offered against his sisters was letters in their handwriting:

"The rest of his sisters he did not love with so great affection, nor honor so highly, but often prostituted them to his favorites. He therefore the more readily condemned them in the case of Aemilius Lepidus as adulteresses and privy to that conspiracy against him. And he not only made public letters in the handwriting of all of them, procured by fraud and seduction. He also consecrated to Mars the Avenger three swords with which his life was to have been taken, with an accompanying inscription containing the cause of his so doing." (Suetonius, The Lives of the Twelve Caesars, Gaius Caligula).

Detractors

Not only were there advocates of women's literacy, there were also detractors, like the misogynist Juvenal, who ridiculed literary women:

"But worse is the woman who, no sooner than she sits
At dinner, praises Vergil, forgives dying Dido, pits
The poets against each other, and weighs Vergil on the scale
With Homer. Grammarians yield, rhetoricians are beaten, turn tail,
And the whole assemblage is silent.
No lawyer, no auctioneer,
Can get a word in, nor even another woman." (Juvenal, Satires, Book VI, 434).

In spite of themselves, the detractors testify that there were such women.

Where the satirists did draw blood perhaps was in the lack of depth of women's education. Lactantius contrasts elitist philosophers with Christian preachers in that the latter exhort all humankind to virtue, include women, slaves, and barbarians, while the former address themselves only to that small segment of the population which had completed the liberal arts curriculum which was philosophy's antechamber. This curriculum included, not only "common" literacy, but such arcane and time-consuming studies as geometry and astronomy. Lactantius makes clear women did not study these subjects, whether for the reason he suggests: because their study time was taken up by 'home ec,' or from a societal disinclination to invest in women:

"They [the philosophers] attempted, indeed, to do that which truth required; but they were unable to proceed beyond words. First, because instruction in many arts is necessary for an application to philosophy. Common learning must be acquired on account of practice in reading, because in so great a variety of subjects it is impossible that all things should be learned by hearing, or retained in the memory. No little attention also must be given to the grammarians, in order that you may know the right method of speaking. That must occupy many years. Nor must there be ignorance of rhetoric, that you may be able to utter and express the things which you have learned. Geometry also, and music, and astronomy, are necessary, because these arts have some connection with philosophy; and the whole of these subjects cannot be learned by women, who must learn within the years of their maturity the duties which are hereafter about to be of service to them for domestic uses; nor by servants, who must live in service during those years especially in which they are able to learn; nor by the poor, or laborers, or rustics, who have to gain their daily support by labor. And on this account Tully says that philosophy is averse from the multitude...Lastly, they never taught any women to study philosophy, except Themiste only, within the whole memory of man; nor slaves, except Phaedo only, who is said, when living in oppressive slavery, to have been ransomed and taught by Cebes." (Lactantius, Divine Institutes, Book 3, Chapter 25).

What Lactantius calls "common learning" he does not deny to women.

Cydippe

Callimachus told the tale of Cydippe and Acontius: while visiting the temple of Diana at Delos, Acontius tossed in front of Cydippe an apple inscribed with the words, 'I swear by the sanctuary of Diana that Cydippe will wed Acontius.' The innocent girl read aloud the fateful words, and as Acontius reminds her, vows made in the temple in the presence of the goddess cannot be broken: “...in some way came the rolling apple, with its treacherous words in clever character; and how, because they were read in holy Diana’s presence, you were bound by a pledge with deity to witness.” (Pseudo-Ovid, Pseudo-Heroides, XX). Further complications ensued, all because the ancients lacked the modern convenience of quotation marks: had Cydippe said, 'And I quote, "I swear, etc.",' she would have remained unsworn.

In any event, had Cydippe been an illiterate listening as a male companion read the writing on the apple for her, the problem of an unintended oath would not have arisen. Twice cautious, Cydippe took up the practice of reading Acontius' letters silently, according to the Alexandrian author of the appendix to the Heroides: "All fearful, I read what you wrote without so much as a murmur, lest my tongue unwittingly might swear by some divinity." (Pseudo-Ovid, Pseudo-Heroides, XXI). As Cydippe points out, there is no pledge if the intention is lacking:

"If I have willed to pledge my hand to you, exact the due rights of the promised marriage-bed; but if I have given you naught but my voice, without my heart, you possess in vain but words without a force of their own. I took no oath – I read words that formed an oath; that was no way for you to be chosen to husband by me." (Pseudo-Ovid, Pseudo-Heroides, XXI).

Still and all, the words were spoken; she was literate.

Calpurnia

Pliny the Younger's third wife, the youthful Calpurnia, seems to have been a 'groupie' or fan of the great man's literary output:

"Her affection to me has given her a turn to books; and my compositions, which she takes a pleasure in reading, and even getting by heart, are continually in her hands. [Accedit his studium litterarum, quod ex mei caritate concepit. Meos libellos habet, lectitat, ediscit etiam.]. . .She sings my verses and sets them to her lyre, with no other master but Love, the best instructor." (Pliny the Younger, Letters, Book Four, Letter 19, To Calpurnia Hispulla).

Why make such a fuss over his compositions if she could not read them?

Marcia

Marcia was another book-lover:

"Books, your love for which was a boon bequeathed by your father, now void of comfort and scarcely serving for brief distraction, make their appeal to unheeding ears." (Seneca, On Consolation, To Marcia).

Why would Marcia love books if she were illiterate?

Grapte

"You will write therefore two books, and you will send the one to Clemens and the other to Grapte. And Clemens will send his to foreign countries, for permission has been granted to him to do so. And Grapte will admonish the widows and the orphans. But you will read the words in this city, along with the presbyters who preside over the Church." (Hermas, The Shepherd, Book First, Vision Second, Chapter 4).

Why give a copy of this prolix and confusing vision to Grapte? So she could use it as a door-stop? Or was this literate lady expected to explicate the book's contents to the widows and orphans?

Callirhoe

In the novel 'Chaereas and Callirhoe,' Callirhoe writes a letter:

"Callirhoe too thought it proper to show her gratitude to Dionysius by writing to him. This was the only thing she did independently of Chaereas; knowing his jealous nature, she was anxious to prevent him learning of it. She took a writing tablet and wrote the following.

"'From Callirhoe: greetings to Dionysius, my benefactor -- for it was you who freed me from pirates and slavery. [...] Plangon, my greetings to you; this letter is written in my own hand. Fare you well, good Dionysius, and remember your Callirhoe.'

"She sealed the letter and hid it in a fold of her dress...

"Dionysius went back to his quarters and shut himself in. When he recognized Callirhoe's handwriting, he first kissed the letter, then opened it and clasped it to his breast as if it were Callirhoe present in the flesh."

(Chariton, 'Chaereas and Callirhoe,' pp. 116-119, Collected Ancient Greek Novels, edited by B. P. Reardon).

Manto

Another fictional character, and this one of bad character besides, but you've got to give her credit, she can write:

"While they were in this predicament, Manto could hold out no longer when Rhode kept her waiting, and wrote a note to Habrocomes. Its contents went like this.

"'From his mistress to the fair Habrocomes, greeting. Manto is in love with you and can no longer contain herself, improperly perhaps for a girl, but inevitably for a girl in love...For if you agree, I will persuade my father, Apsyrtus, to give me to you in marriage; we will get rid of your present wife, and you will be rich and prosperous.'...

"She took this letter and sealed it, then gave it to one of her own barbarian servants, telling her to give it to Habrocomes. He took it and read it and was upset at everything in it; he was particularly aggrieved at the part about Anthia. He kept the writing tablet, wrote the reply on another, and gave it to the servant. The letter went like this.

"'Mistress, do as you will and use my body as the body of a slave; and if you want to kill me, I am ready; if you want to torture me, torture me as you please. But I could not come to your bed nor would I obey such a request even if you ordered me.'

"When she received this letter, Manto could not control her anger. [...]

"Meanwhile Apsyrtus, searching the cramped quarters where Habrocomes had been living before his punishment, came across Manto's note to Habrocomes, recognized the writing, and realized that his punishment was unjust. So immediately he gave orders to set Habrocomes free and bring the young man before him." (Xenophon of Ephesus, 'An Ephesian Tale,' pp.141-143, Collected Ancient Greek Novels, edited by B. P. Reardon).

It is odd that the contrived plots of so many ancient Greek novels, which admittedly are pot-boilers, revolve around the discovery of a letter in which a woman's hand-writing is recognized, given that they could not write.

Leucippe

Letters authored by women are found in papyrus caches, yet we are told these women could not write, but hired someone to write the letter for them. But, again, a novelist has someone recognize a woman's hand-writing:

"When I had gone to him, without a word he handed me a letter. Before I could read a single sentence, my jaw dropped in astonishment: I recognized the handwriting as Leucippe's. The letter read as follows.

"'From Leucippe to her master Clitophon:
"'It is 'Master' I must call you, for you are my mistress's husband. You know well all that I have suffered for you, yet now I am obliged to refresh your memory. For your sake I left my mother and undertook a life of wandering. For your sake I went through shipwreck and captivity at the hands of pirates." [...]

"Returning to the text, I scrutinized every word, as if seeing her through the letters."
(Achilles Tatius, Leucippe and Clitophon, pp. 242-243, Collected Ancient Greek Novels, edited by B. P. Reardon).

Ancient Greek novels are not for everyone, in part because of their contrived plots in which every manner of calamity is piled atop the hero and heroine, who nevertheless prevail. Before true love conquers all, the catalog of troubles the characters must undergo includes shipwreck, pirate attack, kidnap and sale into slavery, disease, disaster and hard times, and even amnesia, that staple of daytime TV:

"'I beg you, mistress, be at peace with me now; I have had enough misfortune! I have died and come to life again. I have been taken by pirates and made an exile; I have been sold and been a slave; and I reckon my second marriage a greater burden yet than all this. I beg one favor of you, and of the other gods through you, to requite all: preserve my fatherless child!'" (Cariton, Chaereas and Callirhoe, p. 62, 'Collected Ancient Greek Novels,' edited by B. P. Reardon)

"At the mention of Chaereas she burst into a flood of tears and spoke bitter words about this trial. 'Oh,' she cried, 'that was all I needed, in my misfortunes -- to be taken to court! I have died and been buried; I have been stolen from my tomb; I have been sold into slavery -- and now, Fortune, on top of that I find myself on trial!'" (Chariton, Chaereas and Callirhoe, p. 81, 'Collected Ancient Greek Novels,' edited by B. P. Reardon).

"...Anthia put her arms around Habrocomes and wept. 'Husband and master,' she said, 'I have found you again, after all my wanderings over land and sea, escaping robbers' threats and pirates' plots and pimps' insults, chains, trenches, fetters, poisons, and tombs. But I have reached you, Habrocomes, lord of my heart, the same as when I first left you in Tyre for Syria.'" (Xenophon of Ephesus, An Ephesian Tale, p. 169, 'Collected Ancient Greek Novels,' edited by B. P. Reardon).

"'Did Fortune rescue us from robbers for you to become dementia's pawn? Our good fortune in each case has proved bad luck: we have escaped domestic danger only to suffer shipwreck; we have survived the sea and eluded the outlaws, yes -- because we were being groomed for delirium. And if you ever do recover your wits, my dearest, I can only fear that god must have some other calamity in store. Who could be more disaster-prone than we, who are even frightened of good fortune?'" (Achilles Tatius, Leucippe and Clitophon, p. 226, 'Collected Ancient Greek Novels,' edited by B. P. Reardon).

For all the world these accident-prone people sound just like the cast of the day-time soap operas on TV. Since these latter shows are presented for a female audience, how likely is it that the very similar Greek novels were written for any but a female readership? Ovid is another author who aims his works at a female readership as well as male: "My labour'd lines, some readers may approve, Since I've instructed either sex in love." (Ovid, Art of Love, Book III). If women really could not read, this is an odd marketing ploy.

Melite

Achilles Tatius tells the story of a trial by ordeal in which the accused woman must write out an oath on a tablet:

"The water of the Styx worked as follows...when someone is accused in affairs of Aphrodite, she enters the spring to bathe. The fountain is a small one, reaching only to the mid-calf. The ordeal is this: she writes the oath on a tablet and ties it around her neck with a string. If she has not been false to her oath, the spring remains in place. If she is lying, the water seethes and rises to her neck and covers the tablet. [...] The populace reassembled for this spectacle, and the procedure was followed to the letter there too. Melite was wearing the tablet; the spring lay clear and low. She walked into the waters and stood there with a beaming face. The water did nothing at all! It stayed in its place without the slighted surge from its usual level. When the allotted time for her stay in the spring had passed, the magistrate held out his hand and helped her out of the water." (Achilles Tatius, Leucippe and Clitophon, pp.279-281, 'Collected Ancient Greek Novels,' edited by B. P. Reardon).

Evidently this trial by ordeal found oaths that were technically true satisfactory.

Rectina

The correspondent who alerted Pliny the Elder to the desperate plight of the survivors at Pompeii was a woman named Recina:

"As he was leaving the house he was handed a message from Rectina, wife of Tascus whose house was at the foot of the mountain, so that escape was impossible except by boat. She was terrified by the danger threatening her and implored him to rescue her from her fate.  He changed his plans, and what he had begun in a spirit of inquiry he completed as a hero. He gave orders for the warships to be launched and went on board himself with the intention of bringing help to many more people besides Rectina, for this lovely stretch of coast was thickly populated." (Pliny the Younger, letter to Cornelius Tacitus explaining how his famous uncle met his end, Letters VI. 16.)

Of course (as the 'Jesus Seminar' types will be quick to point out), Rectina might have visited her local 'Kinko's' to dictate this missive, which drew Pliny the Elder in to his death on the beach. That is to say, assuming 'Kinko's' remains open during catastrophic volcanic eruptions. . .

Baker's Wife

Lucius Apuleius introduces a character into his novel 'The Golden Ass' who is evidently intended for a Christian. The baker's wife is "a despiser of all the gods whom others did honor, one that affirmed that she had instead of our sure religion an only god by herself, whereby, inventing empty rites and ceremonies she deceived all men, but especially her poor husband, delighting in drinking wine, yea, early in the morning..." (Lucius Apuleius, 'The Golden Ass,' Book Nine, pp. 144-145). Lucius, a devotee of Isis, loads this woman, a monotheist who practiced an 'empty rite' involving drinking wine in the morning (communion?), with every imaginable sin, from adultery to cruelty to animals to murder.

More to the point for present purposes, the baker's wife attended school. Prompted by a reference to an acquaintance, she recalls her as a school-mate:

"Then the baker's wife said: 'I know her very well, for her name is Arete, and we two dwelled together at one school.'" (Lucius Apuleius, 'The Golden Ass,' Book Nine, p. 146).

On the Wall

Scrawling graffitti on the wall does not prove anything about ancient literacy, some folks think, because after all you can always hire someone to do that. A woman concerned about her sea-faring man left a message on the wall for the pagan goddess Venus in Pompeii, which was preserved by the volcanic eruption in that place.

"For the crew of any ship foolhardy enough to chance a February crossing of the Mediterranean, it was Venus' role as protector of mariners and shaper of fate that demanded their gratitude. 'Venus is the weaver of webs,' one landlocked lover scratched onto a wall. 'From the moment that she sets out to attack my dearest, she will lay temptations along his path. He must hope for a good voyage, which is also the wish of his Ario.'" ('Pompeii, The Living City,' by Alex Butterworth and Ray Laurence, p. 36).

Aurelia

Pliny the Younger recounts that a legacy-hunter watched a wealthy lady insert a clause into her will with her own hand, though her good fortune and long life subsequently left him disappointed:

"You must know then, that Aurelia, a lady of property, designing to execute her will, had dressed herself for that purpose in a very splendid manner. Regulus, who was present as a witness, turned about to the lady, and, "Pray," says he, "leave me these fine clothes." Aurelia at first thought him in jest; but he insisted upon it very seriously, and, to make a long story short, obliged her to open her will, and insert this legacy; and though he saw her write it, yet he would not be satisfied till he read the clause himself. However Aurelia is still alive; though Regulus forced her to make this bequest, as though her death were imminent. And yet legacies and estates are conferred upon this abandoned man as if he really deserved them!" (Pliny the Younger, Letters, Book Two, Letter 20, To Calvisius).

Waiting for Baptism

Cyril of Jerusalem suggests that candidates awaiting baptism spend their time usefully, reading perhaps, though, following Paul, he does not want women reading out loud in church:

Why does Cyril suggest these young ladies read quietly if they could not read at all? He might as well suggest they while away the time by staging a slam-dunk basketball contest, because they could not do that either.

Sosipatra

Eunapius, in his Lives of the Philosophers and Sophists, tells of Sosipatra, a celebrated philosopher:

"After the passing of Eustathius, Sosipatra returned to her own estate, and dwelt in Asia in the ancient city of Pergamon, and the famous Aedesius loved and cared for her and educated her sons. In her own home Sosipatra held a chair of philosophy that rivalled his, and after attending the lectures of Aedesius, the students would go to hear hers; and though there was none that did not greatly appreciate and admire the accurate learning of Aedesius, they positively adored and revered the woman's inspired teaching." (Eunapius, Lives of the Philosophers and Sophists, 411).

This woman, educated by Chaldeans, prophesied to her future husband Eustathius that he was destined for orbit: "For your station will be in the orbit of the moon..." She seems to be the one in orbit; nevertheless she must have been literate:

"And as she grew to the full measure of her youthful vigor, she had no other teachers, but ever on her lips were the works of the poets, philosophers, and orators; and those works that others comprehend but incompletely and dimly, and then only by hard work and painful drudgery, she could expound with careless ease, serenely and painlessly, and with her light swift touch would make their meaning clear." (Eunapius, Lives of the Philosophers and Sophists, 409)

Hypatia

As this world draws to its close, we encounter the tragic figure of Hypatia:

"THERE was a woman at Alexandria named Hypatia, daughter of the philosopher Theon, who made such attainments in literature and science, as to far surpass all the philosophers of her own time. Having succeeded to the school of Plato and Plotinus, she explained the principles of philosophy to her auditors, many of whom came from a distance to receive her instructions. On account of the self-possession and ease of manner, which she had acquired in consequence of the cultivation of her mind, she not unfrequently appeared in public in presence of the magistrates. Neither did she feel abashed in coming to an assembly of men. For all men on account of her extraordinary dignity and virtue admired her the more. Yet even she fell a victim to the political jealousy which at that time prevailed. For as she had frequent interviews with Orestes, it was calumniously reported among the Christian populace, that it was she who prevented Orestes from being reconciled to the bishop. Some of them therefore, hurried away by a fierce and bigoted zeal, whose ringleader was a reader named Peter, waylaid her returning home, and dragging her from her carriage, they took her to the church called Caesareum, where they completely stripped her, and then murdered her with tiles. After tearing her body in pieces, they took her mangled limbs to a place called Cinaron, and there burnt them. This affair brought not the least opprobrium, not only upon Cyril, but also upon the whole Alexandrian church. And surely nothing can be farther from the spirit of Christianity than the allowance of massacres, fights, and transactions of that sort." (Ecclesiastical History of Socrates Scholasticus, Book 7, Chapter 15).

Hypatia, a pagan, led an unexpected second, posthumous career as a Catholic 'saint,' St. Catherine of Alexandria.

Olympias

One of John Chrysostom's correspondents was a widow named Olympias. Notice that John instructs her to read his letter aloud. If Olympias, for her part in this correspondence, were following the procedure described by the partisans of ancient illiteracy: dictating her own letters, then having the replies read back to her, then John's request is in vain. If someone is reading the letter to her, then of course he is reading it aloud; how else to convey its contents to an illiterate person? Rather, he is telling her to read it aloud, an instruction only a literate person can follow:

Laeta's Daughter

Jerome advises his correspondent Laeta to raise her infant daughter to play with alphabet blocks, advice whose utility is not apparent if, as is claimed, women were not literate:

"Get for her a set of letters made of boxwood or of ivory and called each by its proper name. Let her play with these, so that even her play may teach her something. And not only make her grasp the right order of the letters and see that she forms their names into a rhyme, but constantly disarrange their order and put the last letters in the middle and the middle ones at the beginning that she may know them all by sight as well as by sound. Moreover, so soon as she begins to use the style upon the wax, and her hand is still faltering, either guide her soft fingers by laying your hand upon hers, or else have simple copies cut upon a tablet; so that her efforts confined within these limits may keep to the lines traced out for her and not stray outside of these. Offer prizes for good spelling and draw her onwards with little gifts such as children of her age delight in." (Jerome, Letters, 107.4).

Fabiola

Fabiola was the first person to found a hospital, according to Jerome: "She was the first person to found a hospital, into which she might gather sufferers out of the streets, and where she might nurse the unfortunate victims of sickness and want." (Jerome, Letter 77.6, to Oceanus). She was evidently literate, otherwise Jerome's narrative about unrolling the scroll is somewhat beside the point. Why not say, 'The man who was reading the book out loud came to the passage. . .'?:

"Blessed Jesus, what zeal, what earnestness she bestowed upon the sacred volumes! In her eagerness to satisfy what was a veritable  craving she would run through Prophets, Gospels, and Psalms: she would suggest questions and treasure up the answers in the desk of her own bosom. And yet this eagerness to hear did not bring with it any feeling of satiety: increasing her knowledge she also increased her sorrow, and by casting oil upon the flame she did but supply fuel for a still more burning zeal. One day we had before us the book of Numbers written by Moses, and she modestly questioned me as to the meaning of the great mass of names there to be found. . .I replied as best I could and tried to satisfy her inquiries. Then unrolling the book still farther she came to the passage in which is given the list of all the halting-places by which the people after leaving Egypt made its way to the waters of Jordan." (Jerome, Letter 77.7, to Oceanus).

Paula

We close the book on the classical world with the linguistically gifted Paula:

"The holy scriptures she knew by heart, and said of the history contained in them that it was the foundation of the truth; but, though she loved even this, she still preferred to seek for the underlying spiritual meaning and made this the keystone of the spiritual building raised within her soul. She asked leave that she and her daughter might read over the old and new testaments under my guidance...I will mention here another fact which to those who are envious may well seem incredible. While I myself beginning as a young man have with much toil and effort partially acquired the Hebrew tongue and study it now unceasingly lest if I leave it, it also may leave me; Paula, on making up her mind that she too would learn it, succeeded so well that she could chant the psalms in Hebrew and could speak the language without a trace of the pronunciation peculiar to Latin. The same accomplishment can be seen to this day in her daughter Eustochium..." (Jerome, Letters, Letter 108).