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Early Modern Philology, Scriptural Authority and the Enigma of the Cock’s Crow

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  15 October 2025

ULRICH GROETSCH
ULRICH GROETSCH*
Affiliation:
University of North Alabama
*
E-mail: ugroetsch@una.edu
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Abstract

This article explores the early modern scholarly debate over the cock’s crow in the New Testament account of Peter’s denial, focusing on theologians and savants such as Johann Georg Altmann (1697–1758), John Lightfoot (1602–75) and Adriaan Reland (1676–1718). What began as a narrow philological puzzle, whether the text referred to a rooster or a human herald, expanded into a broader debate over scriptural authority. Set within the intellectual context of the republic of letters, the article shows how efforts to reconcile Scripture with ancient Jewish law and classical sources could unwittingly sow the seeds of doubt and unbelief.

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Research Article
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The Journal of Ecclesiastical History , Volume 77 , Issue 3 , July 2026 , pp. 590 - 609
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Copyright
© The Author(s), 2025. Published by Cambridge University Press

The crowing cock: theological and cultural implications

On the eastern slope of Mount Zion, just outside Jerusalem’s old city walls, stands the striking Church of St Peter in Gallicantu, traditionally identified as the site of Caiaphas’s house. The name Gallicantu, Latin for ‘cock-crow’, recalls a pivotal moment in Christian tradition: the crowing of the cock following Peter’s denial of Christ.Footnote 1

The church building serves as a powerful emblem of the significance of Peter’s denial, a significance that reaches far beyond the realm of theology. Artists from Caravaggio to Rembrandt immortalised the scene, yet often omitted its pivotal detail: the crowing cock.Footnote 2 This omission is notable, given the rooster’s narrative role and its rich symbolic resonance for Christians. Not by chance, roosters often appear atop church steeples. Still, chickens and roosters carried symbolic weight long before Christianity, deeply rooted in human folklore and religious imagination.Footnote 3

However, matters of poultry symbolism are best entrusted to folklorists, theologians, biologists or art historians. The present inquiry, conducted at a safe distance from henhouses and iconography, remains firmly anchored in the domain of early modern intellectual history, where the primary excitement lies in deciphering marginalia and consulting digitised editions. Accordingly, the focus of this article now shifts to a group of early modern scholars, near contemporaries of Caravaggio and Rembrandt, who recognised the theological weight carried by the cock’s crow in Peter’s denial. For them, the rooster was not merely a narrative detail – it was essential to the episode’s credibility, and by extension, to a central pillar of Christian dogma and faith. Understanding how the seemingly minor detail of a rooster’s crow became a site of theological scrutiny requires turning to the intellectual world of the early modern period, a time when biblical scholarship flourished with remarkable intensity.

A theological republic of letters

The early modern period witnessed an outpouring of biblical commentaries and philological treatises addressing virtually every aspect of Scripture. Countless compilations, such as the Critici sacri, stand as testaments to an era of philological scholarship that was, arguably, unparalleled in its erudition and productivity.Footnote 4 This period produced titans like Joseph Scaliger (1540–1609) and Richard Bentley (1662–1742), alongside scholarly dynasties such as the Buxtorfs and Spanheims.Footnote 5

Amidst this flourishing intellectual landscape, one of the most prominent figures in the republic of letters was the celebrated seventeenth-century English scholar John Lightfoot (1602–75), whose erudition exemplified the age’s drive to ground Christian theology in ancient sources. Lightfoot was dedicated to using the Talmud and Rabbinic writings to defend the truth of the Christian Gospel.Footnote 6 Between 1658 and 1678, Lightfoot published his Horae hebraicae et talmudicae (Hebrew and Talmudic observations), where he turned to ancient Jewish writings to shed light on and substantiate the New Testament.Footnote 7 As their Hebrew scholarship deepened, Lightfoot and others found that new sources often revealed inconsistencies rather than confirming traditional readings.

One such inconsistency arises in the story of Peter’s denial – specifically, the mention of the rooster crowing. According to ancient Jewish law, chickens were not allowed to be kept within the city of Jerusalem. This rule comes from the Mishna, in tractate Bava Qamma 7.7, which states: ‘They do not rear chickens in Jerusalem, on account of the Holy Things, nor do priests rear chickens anywhere in the Land of Israel.’Footnote 8 While Lightfoot’s work elsewhere displays considerable Talmudic learning, he is notably terse here. He rejects the claim that chickens were absent from Jerusalem, citing only an anecdote involving a stoned rooster to dismiss the prohibition.Footnote 9

Adriaan Reland and the limits of Christian Hebraism

Lightfoot’s selective use of Jewish sources drew critical attention. A Jewish polemicist in Amsterdam, writing with evident hostility toward Christian doctrine, mocked the story of Peter’s denial as a fabrication. He criticised Christians for appealing to Rabbinic texts when convenient, while disregarding the same sources elsewhere. Though his identity remains unknown and unacknowledged in major commentaries of the time, his critique resonated enough to prompt a response.Footnote 10

One prominent scholar who took the issue seriously was the renowned Utrecht Hebraist Adriaan Reland (1676–1718). He addressed the matter directly in a formal speech titled ‘Oratio de galli cantu Hierosolymis audito’, ‘Oration on hearing the cock crow in Jerusalem’, which he delivered on 26 March 1709, marking the end of his term as rector magnificus. Footnote 11

Reland observed that few New Testament commentators had addressed the issue of a rooster crowing during Peter’s denial. As a skilled Talmudist, he saw the prohibition of chickens in Jerusalem as a serious challenge to the Gospel’s interpretation, especially since it lent weight to anti-Christian critiques. He noted that Levitical Law set Jerusalem apart in holiness, and chickens were banned to prevent them from disturbing sacred objects buried in the ground. While others had cited a Talmudic story about a rooster being stoned to justify the Gospel account, Reland sought a stronger defence grounded more firmly in ancient Jewish tradition.Footnote 12

Reland drew attention to the Mishnaic tractate Tamid, which describes how priests stood watch in three designated areas of the sanctuary and began their duties, such as removing the ashes from the altar, when the superintendent arrived, usually around the time of cockcrow. The text refers to this moment as keri’at ha-gever [כְרִיאַת הַגֶּבֶר], meaning ‘the call of the rooster’. As a scholar well-versed in Jewish law, Reland observed a striking tension: temple rituals were expected to follow precise timing, yet the system seemed to rely on the uncertain behaviour of a rooster. He raised a pointed question, what if the rooster failed to crow?Footnote 13

Reland proposed two possible interpretations of keri’at ha-gever, raising the question of whether it referred to a rooster at all. He pointed out that the word gever can also mean ‘man’ in rabbinic literature. To illustrate this, he cited Shekalim v.1 from the Jerusalem Talmud, where a gatekeeper is referred to as ben gever, literally, ‘son of the rooster’. The phrase appears nonsensical unless gever is understood to mean ‘man’ rather than an actual rooster. Building on this, Reland suggested that the phrase qara ha-gever [קָרָא הַגֶּבֶר], commonly translated as ‘the rooster crowed’, might instead be interpreted as karaz karoza [כָּרַז כְּרוֹזָא], meaning ‘the herald called out’. This reading better fits the context of a gatekeeper responding to a human signal, rather than the unpredictable crowing of a bird.Footnote 14

Ultimately, however, Reland set aside the alternative interpretation. If keri’at ha-gever referred to a human voice, he argued, the Mishnah, known for its precision in ritual matters, would have made that explicit. Instead, he upheld the traditional understanding of keri’at ha-gever as ‘the rooster’s crow’. To support this, he pointed to several Talmudic passages, including Yoma 21a, where ha-gever is clearly identified as a rooster. That passage even distinguishes between successive crowings, paralleling the Gospel of Mark’s account of Peter’s denial.

Still, the very fact that Reland entertained and developed an alternative reading, only to reject it, reveals something telling about early modern philological treatises: they often multiply possible meanings before reaffirming a traditional one. In doing so, they may paradoxically increase the sense of textual and semiotic instability, even as they aim to resolve it.Footnote 15

At the time, Reland was deeply engaged in his magnum opus, Palaestina ex monumentis veteribus illustrata (Palestine explained through ancient monuments) (1714), a landmark contribution to sacred geography. In its second volume, he offers a detailed survey of Jerusalem and its surroundings, demonstrating his close familiarity with the city’s topography.Footnote 16

This geographic knowledge directly informed Reland’s approach to the problem. He proposed that while Peter was inside the city, the rooster may have been outside the walls. Given Jerusalem’s elevation, surrounding hills, and the acoustics of night time, such a scenario was, he argued, entirely plausible. To support this claim, Reland cited ancient sources: Silius Italicus wrote that roosters crowing in Italy could be heard in Sicily, and Pliny the Elder noted that sound carried across the Bosporus. These examples, he argued, made distant crowing credible. He also drew on the influential reconstruction of Jerusalem by Jesuit scholar Juan Bautista Villalpando (1649–1714). According to Villalpando’s model, Caiaphas’s residence on Mount Zion, where Peter’s denial occurred, stood about 600 metres from the city wall, far less than the Bosporus crossing Pliny described. For Reland, this made the Gospel account entirely plausible.Footnote 17 Alternatively, Reland suggested, the rooster may have belonged to Roman or other non-Jewish residents. Roman soldiers were known to keep roosters for augury, making it entirely plausible that Peter heard one of theirs.Footnote 18

Jewish law, he argued, may not have posed much of a practical obstacle. Drawing on both ancient and contemporary sources, Reland pointed to the corruption of the Jerusalem priesthood, figures who often disregarded ritual law when it served their interests. The ban on poultry within the city, however strict in theory, may well have been ignored by those meant to enforce it.Footnote 19

Reland’s defence of the rooster’s crow exemplifies the cautious apologetics of early modern Christian Hebraists. Though erudite and methodically argued, his case leaned heavily on anecdotal sources, like Pliny and Silius Italicus, rather than confronting the more straightforward alternative: that keri’at ha-gever referred to a human voice, as many Jewish texts suggest. This placed him in a difficult position. Embracing the human-voice interpretation could cast doubt on the Gospel narratives and invite censure from Christian peers. Rejecting it, however, required squaring the biblical account with Jewish law, which prohibited roosters in Jerusalem. By this point in his career, Reland was a prominent figure in the republic of letters, and the risks were clear. The fates of Isaac La Peyrère (1596–1676), Hugo Grotius (1583–1645), Louis Cappel (1585–1658), and Jean Le Clerc (1657–1736) had shown that even modest deviations from orthodoxy could provoke charges of heterodoxy.Footnote 20 For many early modern scholars, the pressures of confessional allegiance meant defending traditional readings – even as their own research quietly destabilised them.

The trumpeter from Bern

While Reland navigated the risks of biblical interpretation with care, others, often younger or outside elite scholarly circles, were more willing to take risks. Utrecht, where Reland taught, was a major centre of learning in the early modern republic of letters, rivalling cities like Leiden, Leipzig and London. Bern, in Switzerland, by contrast, held much less of such prestige. During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, Bern did not match the intellectual glamour and prestige of London, Oxford, Paris or Leiden. In fact, it did not even have a university. Although Bern’s Hohe Schule or Gymnasium illustre provided an excellent education to its students, it lacked the lustre of the higher institutions of learning in Oxford, Leiden or Paris.Footnote 21

Yet Bern produced some interesting figures, including Johann Georg Altmann (1695–1758). An eccentric and difficult-to-classify antiquarian, Altmann was part theologian, part clergyman, part failed mining entrepreneur and part polemicist. After a series of unsuccessful ventures, he secured a professorship in eloquence in 1734.Footnote 22 By then, he had published widely, ranging from antiquarian and exegetical works to local histories and regular correspondence with fellow scholars.Footnote 23

Though most of Altmann’s writings drew little attention, his 1721 treatise on the cock’s crow did. Then a struggling theology student, he was easily distracted by new ideas while trying to complete his degree. His essay, Observatio philologica de gallicinio Hierosolymis in aedibus pontificis audito (A philological observation about the crowing of the cock heard in the house of the high priest in Jerusalem), was published in the Bibliotheca historico-philologico-theologica, a scholarly journal edited by the Reformed theologian Theodor Hase (1682–1731) of Bremen.Footnote 24

An expert in Roman antiquities, Altmann approached the problem of the cock’s crow not through Jewish sources, but through Greco-Roman philology. He began with the Greek New Testament, where aléktōr (ἀλέκτωρ) appears in all four Gospels as ‘rooster’. However, he noted that, in classical Greek, the term could carry other meanings. To support this, he cited Athenaeus of Naucratis, who in the Deipnosophistae (bk iv) records that Ion of Chios used aléktōr to mean ‘flute’, even referring to one variant as the ‘Idaean rooster’ (ἀλεκτρυὼν Ἰδαῖος), more commonly known as a syrinx. Aristophanes, too, uses aléktruōn to describe a watchman in Wasps. Altmann also drew on the work of Isaac Casaubon (1559–1614), who in his 1664 edition of the Deipnosophistae observed that ‘rooster’ and ‘flute’ were sometimes used interchangeably – both associated with rousing people from sleep.Footnote 25

He then turned to the Gospel of Matthew, which uses the phrase aléktōr ephōnesen (ἀλέκτωρ ἐφώνησεν), typically translated as ‘the rooster crowed’. Yet Altmann pointed out that the verb ephōnesen, derived from phōneō [φωνέω], more often denotes a human voice or musical sound, not the noise of an animal. For him, this further suggested that what Peter heard may not have been a bird at all.Footnote 26

Building on this linguistic ambiguity, Altmann brought in his knowledge of Roman military practice. Roman authors such as Tacitus and Livy describe the buccina, a curved brass trumpet, used to mark the changing of the watch. He also cited the Dutch legal scholar Rabodus Schelius (1622–62), who in a 1660 commentary on Polybius noted that these trumpet calls were so common that the watches themselves were nicknamed buccinae, ‘trumpets’.Footnote 27

For Altmann, this unlocked the historical puzzle. Since Caiaphas’s residence was located near Mount Zion, where, according to Villalpando, the Roman army maintained a watch, Altmann concluded that Peter did not hear a rooster crowing, but rather the blast of a Roman trumpet announcing the change of guard from a nearby tower.Footnote 28

The trumpeter unmasked

To contemporaries, Altmann’s philological exploration touched on sensitive theological ground. Some viewed his work as a sincere, if flawed, effort to resolve an exegetical puzzle; others, often anonymous, saw it as a threat to Christian doctrine. Among his critics was Johann Christian Biel (1687–1745), a capable Greek philologist and lexicographer, though not a major figure. The son of a merchant, Biel studied at Leipzig, Rostock and Helmstedt, where he was taught by the eccentric Hebraist Hermann van der Hardt (1660–1746).Footnote 29 As was often the case, family means opened academic doors, but not necessarily prestige. Biel went on to serve as a pastor in Braunschweig, continuing his scholarly pursuits. Like many early modern clergy, he saw himself not only as a minister but as an apologist, defending Christian orthodoxy through intellectual debate.Footnote 30

Biel and Altmann had already crossed paths. Earlier in 1721, Altmann published a rebuttal to Biel’s 1719 claim that ‘Lydia’ in Acts xvi.14 was not a personal name but a regional label.Footnote 31 Biel responded with a combined critique of both works, issuing a treatise titled Animadversiones ad Jo. Georgii Altmanni de Lydia Thyatirensi et gallicinio Hierosolymis in aedibus pontificis audito observations (Commentary on Johann Georg Altmann’s Lydia of Thyatira and the observations on the cock’s crow heard in the house of the high priest in Jerusalem). True to form, his response stretched to thirty-eight pages, well beyond the journal’s suggested five-page limit.Footnote 32

Biel insisted there was no contradiction between Jewish law and the New Testament. While Jewish law prohibited the raising of roosters in Jerusalem, he argued that this restriction did not apply to Roman or Gentile residents, a point Reland had previously noted. If Romans kept roosters in cages, there would be no risk of contaminating sacred food.Footnote 33 Biel further claimed that the moral laxity of Jerusalem’s elites made strict adherence to the ban unlikely.Footnote 34

Biel’s critique, however, grew sharper when addressing Altmann’s philology. He contended that Altmann failed to grasp the stylistic boundaries of ancient Greek. While aléktōr might appear poetically as ‘flute’ in some literary contexts, Biel argued such usage had no place in historical writing. Sacred historians, he maintained, wrote plainly and would not have used metaphorical terms. He concluded that Altmann’s theory could stand only if he had produced at least one clear example from a secular historian in which aléktōr unambiguously meant buccina, ‘trumpet’, or buccinator, ‘trumpeter’.Footnote 35

As a seasoned Greek lexicographer, Biel was in his element. His critique of Altmann was sharp – bordering on public humiliation. He implied that Altmann lacked sensitivity to how language functions across genres. Specifically, Biel challenged Altmann’s claim that the Greek verb phōnéō (‘to sound’ or ‘to call’) must refer to a human voice, like that of a Roman trumpeter. Biel strongly disagreed, pointing out that phōnéō derives from phōnē, meaning ‘sound’ or ‘voice’, and is not restricted to human speech.

To support his argument, Biel turned to the Septuagint, the ancient Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible. There, the Hebrew word qôl [קוֹל], meaning ‘sound’ or ‘voice’, is translated using phōnē in various contexts. For example, in 1 Samuel xv.14, the prophet Samuel hears ‘the sound of sheep’ and ‘the sound of cattle’. In Jeremiah ii.15, lions are said to ‘give their voice’, and in Psalm xciii.3, rivers are described as lifting up their voices.

Today, such verification could be achieved through a quick keyword search. But Biel, of course, had no digital concordance; he likely tracked all of this by hand. And his conclusion was firm: phōnē is a flexible word. It applies not just to people and musical instruments, but also to animals, roosters very much included.Footnote 36

While Biel concentrated on dissecting Altmann’s logic and linguistic choices, others perceived Altmann’s theory as a deeper threat, one that challenged the very integrity of the Gospels. In 1723, just two years after Biel’s response, another critique appeared under the striking title: ‘Αλεκτροφωνίας Evangelicae significatio genuine defense’ (The genuine meaning of the Evangelical rooster’s crowing defended). The anonymous author left no doubt about his position: he firmly rejected Altmann’s argument.

The core objection was this: Altmann had built his case on the meaning of a single Greek word, aléktōr, usually translated as ‘rooster’, which appears in all four Gospel accounts of Peter’s denial. But, the author argued, that line of reasoning was flawed from the start. Why? Because Jesus almost certainly spoke Aramaic, not Greek. And if that is true, then the meaning of a Greek term used by later writers – however ambiguous – cannot be the basis for interpreting what Jesus originally said.Footnote 37

Ironically, in defending the traditional reading of the Gospels, the critique inadvertently highlighted the complexities inherent in translating Jesus’ Aramaic speech into Greek, a process that could introduce nuances or shifts in meaning. By emphasising the linguistic gap between Jesus’ spoken Aramaic and the Greek text of the New Testament, the critique acknowledged that the Gospel writers were interpreting and conveying Jesus’ words within a different linguistic and cultural framework. This recognition opens the door to discussions about how translation choices may affect our understanding of biblical events and teachings.

For Altmann’s argument to hold weight, the anonymous critic continued, he would need to show that the same ambiguity existed in the original Aramaic, something he did not do. Even then, it would remain unclear why all four evangelists, writing independently across different times and places, chose the same term.Footnote 38 Altmann also cited ancient sources that did little to support his case. For instance, his reference to Tacitus described a buccina sounded at the end of a banquet, an entirely different context from its use in signalling military watches, and thus irrelevant to his argument.Footnote 39

To the anonymous author, Reland’s explanation, that the rooster’s crow came from outside the city, remained the most credible, underscoring the weaknesses in Altmann’s objections. Altmann claimed Peter could not have heard the rooster due to the noise of Jesus’ trial, but the author countered that the arrest and proceedings were deliberately kept quiet to prevent unrest during Passover, a clear violation of Jewish law. As Lightfoot noted in his New Testament commentary, the night-time interrogation itself breached legal norms. Mishnah Sanhedrin 4.1 states that capital cases must not be tried ‘on the eve of the Sabbath or on the eve of a festival’, suggesting the authorities prioritised secrecy over legality to avoid public outcry.Footnote 40

These examples provide a glimpse of how fiercely Altmann’s ‘juvenilia’ on the cock’s crow, as one might call it, was attacked by early modern savants. In their eyes, Altmann’s ‘solution to the problem’ only complicated matters, as it ultimately cast doubt on the reliability of the New Testament authors.

Altmann responds to his critics

Public controversy could boost a young scholar’s visibility, but only up to a point, as Altmann now realised. In Altmann’s case, much more was at stake: he was preparing for a career in the ministry, committed like his critics to defending the truth of the Gospels. This commitment is clear in the multi-volume collection of sermons he later published, intended, as he wrote, to ‘prepare the soil for the planting of godliness and growth in knowledge’, so that ‘light in the mysteries of godliness can be kindled and increased’.Footnote 41 But his theory placed him in a delicate position. By suggesting that Peter may have heard a Roman trumpeter rather than a rooster, Altmann came precariously close to aligning himself with those who questioned the reliability of the biblical text – not a comfortable place for a clergyman to stand.

His 1735 appointment as professor of Greek and Ethics at the Hohe Schule in Bern affirmed his standing as a classical philologist. That made criticisms of his sensitivity to Greek style particularly painful, striking at the core of his professional identity. Yet Altmann delayed his response. Nearly two decades passed before, in 1739, he issued a rebuttal, describing his critics’ attacks as ‘swelling with bile’, a reply that was both scholarly and deeply personal. He believed, without proof, that one of his harshest critics had once been a close friend.Footnote 42

In his rebuttal, Altmann carefully reconstructed his argument. He reaffirmed that the trial took place in the house of Caiaphas and revisited the puzzling mention of a rooster’s call, despite its conflict with Jewish law. He challenged the theory that the sound came from the Temple’s wake-up calls, arguing the Temple may have been too distant, the timing too early, and the repetition excessive.Footnote 43

Altmann proposed instead that Roman soldiers stationed nearby had sounded the watches. This could explain why Peter heard a ‘cock crow’ before midnight, earlier than roosters typically crow.Footnote 44 Altmann emphasised that aléktōr could mean either a rooster or a musical signal. Drawing on Greek etymology, he noted that aléktōr is related to léktron (‘bed’), suggesting that anything that awakens one from sleep, be it a rooster, a trumpet, or the sunrise, could fit the term.Footnote 45

Unlike his critics, Altmann did not appeal to rabbinical or biblical sources. He responded with a methodical philological defence to reassert his authority. Responding to accusations of misunderstanding Greek poetic conventions, especially Aristophanes, Altmann turned to a scene in Wasps, where a character humorously blames a rooster for making him late to court.Footnote 46 Aristophanes uses the word ἀλεκτρυών, meaning ‘rooster’, to deliver the joke. Altmann argued that the ‘rooster’ symbolised a public crier, an announcer of court sessions, likely a human figure satirised through the image of a bribed bird. He interpreted Aristophanes’s joke as a comment on the corruption of Athenian legal practices, blending satire with social criticism.Footnote 47

Still, showing that aléktōr could carry multiple meanings was not enough to prove Peter heard a Roman trumpeter. To strengthen his case, Altmann drew on Roman antiquities. He cited sources like Samuel Pitiscus’ Lexicon antiquitatum Romanarum (Lexicon on Roman antiquities) (1713), noting how Roman centurions often used criers, or trumpeters, known as aeneatores, to mark the changing of watches.Footnote 48 These musicians, named after aenus, ‘bronze’, are also well-documented in Roman inscriptions. Roman troops, as Livy and others confirm, often garrisoned cities, especially in volatile regions like Jerusalem. Thus, Altmann concluded, when Peter heard the first ‘cockcrow’ before midnight, it was likely not the call of a rooster, but the blast of a Roman trumpet announcing the end of a watch near Caiaphas’s residence.Footnote 49

Altmann’s ‘afterlife’ and the seeds of unbelief

The ‘Altmann affair’ did not end with his 1739 rebuttal, nor, arguably, with his death in 1758. New attacks followed swiftly. In 1740, an anonymous critic published Larva Graeca detracta Georgio Altmanno (The Greek mask removed from Georg Altmann), a scathing response that accused Altmann of ‘shameful ignorance of the Greek language’.Footnote 50

To the critic, Altmann’s work amounted to a blatant mockery of the traditions of scholarship, beginning with the Church Fathers. With biting sarcasm, the critic observed that these Fathers had evidently ‘lacked a teacher like Altmann, who could have taught them to understand the nature of the Greek language better and to write more correctly’.Footnote 51 Altmann, the critic asserted, denied the true account of the cockcrow in the Gospel with ‘a coldness colder than Scythian ice’.Footnote 52 Such mockery, according to the critic, was ill-placed, especially coming from Altmann, whose incompetence was evident in his inability to understand the satirical and absurd elements in Aristophanes’ comedy.

Above all, the critic pointed out that Altmann was unable to produce a single example of Greek authors using the term aléktōr to refer to a Roman military trumpeter. Likewise, he could not show that the term aléktōr was ever used in combination with the verb phōnéō to indicate the action of a human.Footnote 53 According to the anonymous critic, all matters hinged on this point. Ultimately, this is also why Altmann’s argument about a centurion or garrison of Roman soldiers present at the house of Caiaphas did not matter, unless there was evidence that the Roman accensus or heralds invoked by Altmann had ever been called aléktōr or aléktruōn. Footnote 54

Despite harsh criticism, Altmann’s work left a lasting mark, underscoring the continued relevance of the topic. Alongside Reland’s study, it became a foundational, if flawed, contribution to the debate. Its importance is evident in its inclusion in Blasius Ugolino’s monumental Thesaurus antiquitatum sacrarum (1744–69), which also featured Reland’s treatise, Biel’s rebuttal and the anonymous Genuine meaning of the evangelical rooster’s crowing defended. Footnote 55 This landmark thirty-four-volume compilation of early modern biblical scholarship placed Altmann’s work alongside the ‘who’s who’ of the era’s leading scholars, including Johann Buxtorf (1564–1629) and John Selden (1584–1654), thereby confirming its enduring significance.

The debates trickled down into university classrooms, where they shaped the minds of young students. Courses on ‘Hebrew Antiquities’ were a staple in ministerial training throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, aimed at equipping students for biblical exegesis.Footnote 56 One of the most widely used textbooks was Adriaan Reland’s Antiquitates sacrae veterum Hebraeorum (Sacred antiquities of the ancient Hebrews) (1708), a bestseller across Europe and the United States.Footnote 57 Structured as a concise overview of ancient Judaism, from geography to priesthood and festivals, the book offered brief summaries rather than detailed analysis. This brevity was deliberate: professors used it as a framework, expanding on each topic in lectures that incorporated current scholarly debates and controversies.

One glimpse into these eighteenth-century classrooms comes from Halle, where Johann Simonis (1698–1768) taught church history and antiquities at the local Gymnasium illustre. Footnote 58 The manuscript of his lectures, published in 1769 as Lectures on Jewish antiquities according to Hadrian Reland’s sacred antiquities, offers a rich window into how such material was taught. In chapter ii, Simonis builds on Reland’s treatment of Jerusalem as a holy city, exploring its etymology, layout and the practical benefits of life there. Drawing on Rabbinical sources, he explains that the city was thought to be spared from fires and enjoyed notably clean air, due in part to bans on gardens and animals like chickens, which might scratch up impure remains. Simonis then turns briefly to the ‘Altmann affair’, offering a balanced summary of each contributor’s position. In doing so, he positioned himself as both a mediator and interpreter, integrating recent scholarly controversy into the classroom setting.Footnote 59

Ironically, lectures intended to reinforce orthodoxy often sowed seeds of doubt. As Martin Mulsow has shown, theological classrooms often became breeding grounds for doubt when controversial topics arose. Students were exposed to philological debates and heterodox material that frequently raised more questions than answers.Footnote 60 Despite professors’ earnest attempts to defend Scripture and uphold orthodox doctrine, their apologetic efforts often backfired, inadvertently steering devout students toward heterodox perspectives. Notably, aspiring theologians such as Hermann Samuel Reimarus (1696–1768) and Johann Christian Edelmann (1698–1767), once devout in their convictions, found themselves grappling with profound doubts – doubts that took root within the very academic settings designed to reinforce orthodoxy. Both would later metamorphose into fervent Enlightenment radicals, becoming the nemesis of religious orthodoxy.Footnote 61

This dynamic was not limited to European theological circles; similar patterns appeared across the Atlantic. At Harvard College in the early nineteenth century, a young divinity student named George Bethune English (1787–1828) grew increasingly disillusioned with his faith. Exposed to biblical criticism and unresolved theological questions, he ultimately abandoned Christianity altogether and converted to Islam, later becoming an American adventurer and diplomat.Footnote 62 English’s doubts were sharpened by his engagement with the anti-Christian polemics of early modern Karaite scholar Isaac ben Avraham of Troki (1533–94). In his critique, English challenges the Gospel narrative of Peter’s denial with biting sarcasm:

That the author of the Gospel was ignorant of Jewish customs will be evident from the following circumstances. He says Jesus told Peter, that before the cock crew he would deny him thrice; and that afterwards, when Peter was cursing and swearing, saying ‘I know not the man! Immediately the cock crew.’ It is unfortunate for the credit of this story, that … no cocks were allowed to be in Jerusalem, where Jesus was apprehended. This is known, and acknowledged by learned Christians; who have extricated themselves from this difficulty by proving, that the crowing of the cock … means … the sound of a trumpet!!!’Footnote 63

While George Bethune English’s Grounds of Christianity examined lacks explicit references, Altmann’s hypothesis is clearly discernible within its pages. English’s mocking tone suggests he viewed the argument with disdain, yet his appropriation of it underscores the unintended, and potentially explosive, power of debates on topics like the cockcrow. The early modern period witnessed a surge in Hebrew literacy, classical learning and print culture, producing an unprecedented level of philological expertise in scriptural interpretation. Scholars drew on a vast range of sacred and secular sources to defend Christian doctrine.

Yet as the cockcrow debate reveals, these sources often clashed, forcing scholars into increasingly strained reconciliations. Ancient Jewish texts, often cited to support Christian claims, occasionally posed direct challenges to the Gospel narrative. In response, scholars produced a torrent of dissertations, treatises and commentaries, works marked by intricate philological reasoning and meticulous attention to detail. Though these efforts were generally aimed at upholding faith, they frequently ran into impasses, where reconciling conflicting evidence became increasingly difficult and little new could be added.

As George Bethune English’s case shows, and as figures like Hermann Samuel Reimarus further illustrate, such accumulated tensions could lead to crises of faith. These crises reached into theological classrooms and households, where longstanding doctrines no longer offered persuasive answers. While not all radical thinkers possessed Reimarus’ philological rigor, many skilfully mined scholarly debates to craft critiques of Christianity that were accessible to a broader public – transforming academic disputes into instruments of religious doubt.

Footnotes

Drafts and earlier versions of this article were presented at the 10th Annual Meeting on Christian Origins of the Italian Centre for Advanced Studies on Religions in October 2024, and at the Gotha Research Centre in June 2025. I am grateful to the librarians and staff of Collier Library at the University of North Alabama, who patiently responded to my queries and tirelessly fulfilled my requests – most notably Hunter Tinsley, Baylee Smith and Leigh Thompson Stanfield. I have also benefitted from the insights of friends and colleagues, including Miriam Benfatto, Asaph Ben-Tov and Sarah Franklin. Last but not least, I wish to thank the anonymous reviewer of this Journal for their encouraging and constructive comments.

References

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7 See Newton E. Key, ‘Lightfoot, John (1602–1675)’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, at <http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/16648>. See also Macfarlane, Kirsten, ‘John Lightfoot (1602–1675), the Westminster Assembly, and the Horae Hebraicae et Talmudicae ’, Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies liii/1 (2023), 87–116 Google Scholar.

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9 ‘Quoniam modo & praetextu cum Canone sit dispensatum, non disputamus; aderant certe galli gallinacei Hierosolymis aeque ac alibi. Et memorabilis est historia de gallo, ex sententia Synhedrii lapidato ob interfectum ab eo puerulum. Hieros. Erubhin fol. 26.I.’: Lightfoot, John, Horae hebraicae et talmudicae. impensae, I: In chorographiam adiquam terrae Israeliticae; II: In Evangelium S. Matthaei, Cambridge 1658, 302 Google Scholar.

10 ‘Controversia: de cantu galli gallinacci in aedibus pontificis non admittendo. primam ansam fecit Judaeus Amstelodamensis, vir doctus, rituum ac traditionum Judaicarum rigidissimus observator, religionis autem nostrae insensissimus hostis. Hic pro suo in sanctissimam doctrinam nostram livore, productam iam olim legem Judaicam de gallinaceis Hierosolymis non alendis non tantum recoxit, sed etiam variis fabulam anilem redolentibus figmentis ita exornavit, ut inde plurimis historiam Novi Foederis suspectam redderet. Hoc vero potissimum pugnabat argumento, quod Christiani equidem ad explanandam sacram scripturam V. & N. Testamenti scriptis Talmudicis & Rabbinicis uterentur, quoties ad rem nostram aut explanandam aut firmandam conducerent, in aliis autem rebus Christianos eandem illam auctoritatem Judaicam deprimerent & abjicerent; nostrum ergo esse, agnitam nobis illam veterum Judaeorum auctoritatem aut ubique spernere, aut vero debitam in rebus ritus Judaicos concernentibus fidem adhibere. Ut ergo Christianorum hac in re candorem suspectum redderet, citabat jam memoratam legem, quam eiusdem ponderis cum reliquis clamabat, quarum praesidio saepius contra Judaeos ipsos uteremur’: Altmann, Johann Georg, ‘Dissertatio de buccinatore vel cornicine stationario Hierosolymis a Petro in aedibus pontificis audito’, Tempe Helvetica iv/1, Zurich 1739, 4–5 Google Scholar.

11 ‘Haec etiam moverunt virum eruditissimum Hadrianum Relandum, ut in publica oratione, de cantu galli Hierosolymis audito, Judaeorum sententiam excuteret, et ad motas difficultates responderet, quae etiam prodiit Trajecti ad Rhenum 1708’: ibid. 5. See Adriaan Reland, Oratio de cantu Hierosolymis audito, habita publice in Academia Trajectina, Rotterdam 1719. On Reland as a Hebraist see Groetsch, ‘Digging without dirt’, 173–218.

12 ‘Multi sacrum codicem et legerunt et commentariis illustrarunt, quibus id nec mirandum adeo nec animadversione dignum videbatur, galli cantu Hierosolymis auditum fuisse …. Qua opera et lux aliqua inferetur sacris tabulis, et veritas rerum iis contentarum adversus Christiani nominis hostes firmabitur … Urbem Hierosolymam prae universo terrarum orbe a summe numine destinatam olim cultui Levitico ac solemnibus populi Judaici ceremoniis fuisse, et singulari sanctitate praeditam, res est notissima … Nonum, ad quod attendere vos volo, quum quaestionem, quae nunc in manibus est, maxime faciat, nullos in ea gallos nutriri … Quippe in eo legitur gallum, qui rostrum puero in caput infixerat, lapidibus obrutum fuisse Hierosolymis’: Reland, Oratio, 5.

13 See M. Tamid 1.1–2; ‘Ego vero numquam mihi persuadere potui pulcherrimum illum sacrorum ordinem, qui tanta cum diligentia observabatur, a re tam lubrica et incerta, ac galli cantus est, fuisse suspensum. Quid enim, si contingeret gallum non cecinisse, ideone nec sacerdotes nec Levitas tempore legitimo sacris operatos credemus?’: Reland, Oratio, 11.

14 ‘Primo, voci Hebraea גבר, quae Latine reddita gallum significat, etiam haud vim subesse, ut virum notare possit. Et profecto inter ipsos Hebraeorum doctores inveniuntur, qui omnibus illis locis, quae commemoravimus, ea verba non per cantum galli, sed clamorem viri exprimenda esse contendunt. In ipsa Gemara, ut pateat hanc opinionem novam non esse aut recentem, haec verba קרא הגבר explanari videmus per illa כרז כרוזא clamavit praeco. Sic ut putent virum aliquem fuisse, qui id habuerit muneris, ut voce sua admoneret sacerdotes appropinquantis aurorae, quique fortasse etiam a similitudine quadam, quae illi hac parte cum gallo erat, galli nomen invenerit. Firmat hanc sententiam praefectum portis atrii aperiendis nomine בן גבר, filii galli esse nuncupatum, uti liquet ex codice, in quo agitur de siclis’: Reland, Oratio, 13.

15 ‘Mihi tamen, ut verum fatear, non placet haec responsio. Quamvis enim inficiari non possem vocem גבר virum quandoque significare, non tamen arbitror in iis, quae a me statim ex Talmude prolata sunt, hanc notionem illi esse subjectam. Si enim clamor viri intelligendus est, qui certo tempore mane audiebatur, quidni dicunt initium sacrorum factum esse, aut praefectum ad conclave, in quo sacerdotes errant, advenisse, simul ac vocem illius viri audiverant …? Quod tam dubio temporis intervallo circumscribi non debuisset, si ad vocem hominis isti negotio praefecti fuisset dirigendum … In Babylonico codice Joma dissuadentur iter susceptum ante cantum galli, קריאת הגבר, quo loco et secundus (cuius Marcus quoque meminit) et tertius cantus distincte commemorantur, quos diversis temporum intervallis galli edunt … Manifestum est, inquiunt, nullam fidem habendam esse patribus Talmudicis, quum gallos Hierosolymis fuisse negant. Contrarium enim docet historia mortis Christi et aperte indicat Petrum illic gallum cantantem audivisse’: ibid. 14–16.

16 Adriaan Reland, Palaestina ex monumentis veteribus, Utrecht 1714. See Groetsch, ‘Digging without dirt’, 188–97.

17 Juan Bautista Villalpando, In Ezechielem explanationes et apparatus urbis ac templi Hierosolymitani: commentariis et imaginibus illustratus opus tribus tomis distinctum, Rome 1596–1604. On Villalpando see, for instance, Kravtsov, Sergey R., ‘Juan Bautista Villalpando and sacred architecture in the seventeenth century’, Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians lxiv (2005), 312–3910.2307/25068167CrossRefGoogle Scholar; ‘Quacunque enim in regione urbis aedes pontifices maximi Cajaphae fuisse credantur, propiores certe fuerunt moenibus urbis, quam Asia Constantinopoli. Quod si in monte Zion eo loco fuerint sitae, qua eas collocat diligentissimus investigator antiquitatis Judaicae Villalpandus, qui triginta annos describendo templo et urbi Hierosolymitanae impendit, vix tribus stadiis a turri Hippico, ipsisque muris civitatis abfuerunt’: Reland, Oratio, 22.

18 ‘Quod si a moribus domesticis Romanorum ad disciplinam augurum nos transferamus, inde quoque aliquid peti potest, quod huic materiae lucem foeneratur. Romani bellicam rem administrari nisi auspicato noluerunt. Quapropter illi, qui ad provincias mittebantur, solebant, ut ubique auspiciis uti possent, pullos secum ferre caveae inclusos’: Reland, Oratio, 23–4.

19 ‘Ea erat conditio perditorum illorum temporum, ut hi ipsi inter Judaeos, quorum erat se gentes patrias et consuetudines tueri, reges nimirum, pontifices maximi et senatores, qui plerumque haec magna nomina nundinabantur, eas turpiter neglexerint. Scilicet illi, qui contra Dei ipsius voluntatem in homines rerum omnium rudes, sceleratos, nec ex legitima stirpe profectos pontificatum conferebant, qui circos et amphitheatra ad cursus et venationes in illa urbe, quam summum numen prae omnibus totius universi civitatibus suo cultui sacraverat, erigebant; qui incestis coniugiis et libidinibus se inquinabant, quibus denique nihil umquam nefas erat, dummodo potentiam aut opes consequerentur — illi (quis credat?) legem de non alendis in urbe gallinaceis sanctius observarunt?’: ibid. 23.

20 For an overview of these ‘heterodox’ figures see Groetsch, Ulrich, Hermann Samuel Reimarus (1694–1768): classicist, Hebraist, Enlightenment radical in disguise, Leiden 2015, 116–76Google Scholar; on La Peyrère see Pietsch, Andreas Nikolaus, Isaac La Peyrère: Bibelkritik, Philosemitismus und Patronage in der Gelehrtenrepublik des 17. Jahrhunderts, Berlin 2012 Google Scholar.

21 Ulrich im Hof, ‘Hohe Schule–Akademie–Universität, 1528–1805–1834–1984’, in Scandola, Pietro and others (eds), Hochschulgeschichte Berns, 1528–1984: Zur 150-Jahr-Feier der Universität Bern 1984, Bern 1984, 25–57 Google Scholar; Braun-Bucher, Barbara, ‘Die Hohen Schulen’, in Holenstein, André (ed), Berns mächtige Zeit: das 16. und 17. Jahrhundert neu entdeckt, Bern 2006, 274–80Google Scholar.

22 The most comprehensive biographical information available on Altmann is Ischer, Rudolf, Johann Georg Altmann (1695–1758): die Deutsche Gesellschaft und die moralischen Wochenschriften in Bern, Bern 1902 Google Scholar. For a more abbreviated version see Ischer, Rudolf, ‘Johann Georg Altmann. 1695–1758’, in Sammlung Bernischer Biographien, v, Bern 1904, 161–4Google Scholar.

23 See Ischer, Altmann: Gesellschaft, 4–34.

24 Altmann, Johann Georg, ‘Observatio philologica de gallicinio Hierosolymis in aedibus pontificis audito’, Bibliotheca historico-philologico-theologica v/2, Bremen 1721, 451–6Google Scholar.

25 ‘Ex his, ut spero, planum erit buccinatores saepius gallos vocari, rationem addit ὁ πανυ Casaubonus, in animadversionibus ad Athen. p. 200. Ion Chius inquit, tibiam et buccinam vocavit ἀλέκτορα isto versu. Ἐπὶ δ’ αὐλὸς ἀλέκτωρ Λύδιον ὕμνον Ἀχαιῶν. In promptu causa est: nam et gallus gallinaceus, et tibia cantu dormientes excitant’: ibid. 454–5. On Casaubon’s work as a biblical scholar and Christian Hebraist see Grafton, Anthony and Weinberg, Joanna, ‘I have always loved the holy tongue’: Isaac Casaubon, the Jews, and a forgotten chapter in Renaissance scholarship , Cambridge, Ma 2011 10.2307/j.ctv1bzfppsCrossRefGoogle Scholar.

26 ‘Notandum etiam vocem φωνὴν non gallinaceorum, sed hominum et buccinarum vel tubarum proprium esse’: Altmann, ‘Observatio philologica’, 455.

27 ‘Buccinam enim commitebant distinguebantque vigilias, unde boni scriptores ipsas vigilias buccinas appellant, ut ad primam, secundam, tertiam, quartam buccinam, id est, ad vigiliam. Ac minime probabile est post illam qua vigilia prima denunciabatur, iterum buccinam dixisse ante secundam vigiliam: vitabant enim tunc quicquic errori etiam minimo locum posset dare. Nemo discurrere per castra, nemo egredi temere tabernaculis’: Rabobus Schelius, Hygini Gromatici, et Polybii Megalopolitani, de castris Romanis, quae exstant, Amsterdam 1660, 192. See also ‘Schelius, Rabod Herman’, in Johann Heinrich Zedlers Grosses vollständiges Universal-Lexicon aller Wissenschafften und Künste, xxxiv, Leipzig–Halle 1742, 1188–9.

28 ‘Audivit vero Christo et Petrus hunc buccinatorem stationarium vel ad proximam turrim vigiliam committentem, nam ex Villalpandi aliorumque doctorum sententia domus Caiaphae, proxime adfixa erat parti antiquae urbis Jebusaeorum [sic], in monte Sioni, ubi perpetuae vigiliae habebantur, inde enim ad reliquam urbem latissimus patebat prospectus’: Altmann, ‘Observatio philologica’, 456.

29 On van der Hardt’s biblical criticism see, for instance, Mulsow, Martin, ‘The Bible as secular story: the Northern War and King Josias as interpreted by Hermann van der Hardt (1660–1746)’, in van Miert, Dirk and others (eds), Scriptural authority and biblical criticism in the Dutch Golden Age: God’s word questioned, New York 2017, 351–73Google Scholar.

30 Johann Christian Biel, Novus thesaurus philologicus; sive lexicon in LXX et alios interpretes et scriptores apocryphos Veteris Testamenti, ed. E. H. Mutzenbacher, The Hague 1779–80.

31 Idem, ‘De purpura Lydia ad illustrandum locum Act. XVI, 14. Dissertation’, Bibliotheca historico-philologico-theologica iii/3, Bremen 1719, 409–31Google Scholar.

32 ‘Animadversiones ad Jo. Georgii Altmanni de Lydia Thyatirensi et gallicinio Hierosolymis in aedibus pontificis audito observationes’, Bibliotheca historico-philologico-theologica vi/6, Bremen 1721, 1041–69.

33 ‘Quare, etiamsi Judaeis non licuerit gallos Hierosolymnis alere, hoc ad Romanos, quibus eo tempore Judaei paruerint, non pertinuisse. Metum non fuisse, si vel Pilatus, vel alius quispiam Romanorum gallos, in cavea inclusos, aluerit, inde cibos sacros Judaeorum immunditiem contracturos’: ibid. 1059.

34 ‘Atque adeo minus credibile esse, quod illi … legem de non alendis in urbe gallinaceis sanctius observasse’: ibid. 1060–1.

35 ‘Sicuti autem iam omnis difficultas, quam vulgaris sententia de gallo a Petro audito habere videbatur, evanuit, ita nova Altmanni explicatio pluribus et longe maioribus difficultatibus circumsepta est. Nam licet apud poetas quosdam ἀλέκτωρ de tibia usurpetur, tamen apud historicos et alios scriptores vox de illa non legitur. Non autem credibile est, quod, cum historici et rerum praesertim Romanarum scriptores buccinam et buccinatores aliis semper vocabulis exprimant, historici sacri, qui alias simplici ubique et plana dictione utuntur, soli improprie ita locuti sint, ut buccinatorem ἀλέκτορα vocaverint. Sane speciem quandam nova Altmanni explicatio haberet, si vel unicum ex historicis profanis locum produxisset, ubi ἀλέκτωρ buccinam vel buccinatorem significet’: ibid. 1064–5.

36 ‘Nam φωνὴν in genere significat sonum, qui ab aliquo in aere excitatur, et hinc speciatim tam de voce humana, quam de brutorum, imo et rerum inanimatarum voce usurpatur. Sic apud Alexandrinos interpretes φωνὴ, Hebr. קול respondens, tribuitur gregi et bobus 1 Sam. XV.14, leonibus Jer. II.15 … et, si res inanimatas spectemus … fluviis et aquis multis Ps. XCIII.3–4’: ibid. 1066.

37 ‘Non id esse illud vocabulum, quod adhibuit Servator lapsum praedicens Petri Matth. 26.34, Marc. 14.30, Luc. 22.34, Joh. 13.38, cum non Graeca lingua sed, ut probabile sit, dialecto Aramaea fuerit usus, quo successu ergo horum locorum explication ab ambigua Graecae vocis significatione deducatur, nemini, ut quidem puto, obscurum est’: ‘Αλεκτροφωνιας Evangelicae significatio genuine defense’, ibid. vi/5, Bremen 1721, 1071–2.

38 ‘Haud dubie enim prius demonstrandum fuisset auctori vel haberi in lingua, quam Christo vernaculam fuisse dicimus, verbum eiusdem cum Graeco homonymiae, vel adhibuisse servatorem tale vocabulum, quod buccinam vel buccinatorem praecise denotet, et si hoc, qui factum fuerit, ut omnes IV evangelista solo hoc verbo aequivoco neglectis ceteris clarioribus et propriis usi fuerint’: ibid. 1072.

39 ‘Et quod speciatim Taciti locum attinet Annal. L. XV.30, cur ab auctore adductus fuerit, divinare nequeo, non enim de vigiliis per stationes ebuccinandis ibi sermo est, sed de dimissione conviviorum, quae tuba fiebat, ex inspectione eius auctoris patet’: ibid. 1074.

40 ‘Confessus eorum feralis noctu itidem susceptus, quod alias nefas erat, ut docet ex Codice Sanhedrin cap. 4 Lightfootus ad Matth. cap. 2.7.1, quod certe non alio fine factum fuisse videtur, quam ut Christus, antequam proximus dies cruentum eorum consilium proderet, in hoc eorum confessu iudiciali ascites testibus blasphemiae convinceretur, facillime postea apud populum, quem demum postero die concitasse leguntur ad πραιτοριον confluentem, veniam et approbationem inventuros sese sperantes’: ibid. 1077.

41 ‘So sich nun die Anzahl dieser Schriften täglich wie das Unkraut auf dem Acker vermehret, so hat man sich nicht zu beschwehren, wo man hingegen trachtet, auch solche Bücher bekannt zu machen, dadurch die Gottseligkeit und der Wachsthum in der Erkanntniß kan gepflanzet werden, und die Pflicht der Knechten unsers Heylandes in seiner Kirche erfodert [sic] ohne Zweifel alles vorzukehren, damit das Licht die Geheimnisse der Gottseligkeit könne angezündet und vermehret werden’: Johann Georg Altmann, Sammlung auserlesener: Canzel-Reden, über wichtige Stücke der Lehre Jesu Christi, aus den Beyträgen gottesgelahrter Männer in der Schweitz an das Licht gestellt, und mit einer Vorrede versehen, i, Zurich 1741, ‘Vorrede’ (unpaginated).

42 In a later treatise entitled Larva Graeca detracta Georgio Altmanno (n.p., n.d.), the anonymous author defends the earlier anonymous attack on Altmann from nearly four decades prior. This treatise has been attributed to Nicolaus Engelhard (1696–?), who studied theology in Bern, likely alongside Altmann, and later became a professor of philosophy in Groningen. See ‘Engelhard, Nicolaus’, in Fortsetzung und Ergänzungen zu Christian Gottlieb Jöchers allgemeinem Gelehrten-Lexico, ii, Hildesheim 1960, 897–8.

43 Altmann, ‘Dissertatio de buccinatore’, 8–11.

44 ‘Cum ergo in aula Caiaphae esset cohors Romana, una cum centurione, facile est colligere, etiam vigilias ibi more Romano fuisse cornu ac buccina commistas … Altera autem haec est, quod Petrus hunc galli cantum ante mediam noctem finitam, qua galli ordinario nondum cantare solent, audiveri’: ibid. 12.

45 ‘Nec pugnat contra hanc nostram assertionem ipsa etymologia vocis ἀλέκτωρ, quae sua naturali significatione rem quamcunque homines ex lecto suscitantem denotat. Hinc Etymologus pag. 60: ῥηματικὸν ὄνομα ἀλέκτωρ ἀπὸ τῶν λέκτρων, τουτέστι τῶν κοιτῶν, ἡμᾶς διεγείρων. Τοῦ ἀλέκτωρ rem ipsam denotat, quia ex lecto suscitat dormientes’: ibid. 16.

46 Aristophanes, Wasps, lines 100–3.

47 Altmann, ‘Dissertatio de buccinatore’, 17–19.

48 ‘Immo communi nomine hoc hominum genus Aeneatorum nomine veniebat, cuius rei testes sunt lapides antiqui, apud Gruterum in Corp. inscriptionum, p. 264’: ibid. 26.

49 ‘Iterum ergo dicendum est, quod cornicen Romanus in aula Caiaphae non ante cantaverit, quam milites stationarii ibi essent constituti. Ibi autem illos, adducto demum Christo, media nocte iam iam appropinquante, excubias agere incepisse, manifestum est. Et exinde nemo non concludet, quod cornicen signum dimittendorum militum tempore mediae noctis edens, referendus sit ad primum illud signum monitorium Petro praedictum, vel si mavis ad primum gallicinium a Petro auditum’: ibid. 29.

50 Larva Graeca detracta Georgio Altmanno: eiusque buccinator Romanus ex historia passionis dominicae expulsus, n.d.

51 ‘At boni illi patres praeceptore Altmanno indiguerunt, qui ipsos docere potuissent, et rectius sentire de genio linguae Graecae et rectius scriber’: ibid. 7.

52 ‘Cum enim historiam veri gallicinii apud evangelistas obviam tam audacter neget Altmannus, ut in praefatione haud erubescat sententiam totius ecclesiae Christianae ioco excipere, ipso glacie Scythica frigidiore’: ibid. 13.

53 ‘Cur vero Altmannus non unico saltem testimonio probavit, primo auctores, qui de militia Romana Graece scripserunt, cornicini vel buccinatori hoc nomen vel semel imposuisse; deinde substantivum ἀλέκτωρ pro buccinatore sumptum cum verbo φωνέω umquam construxisse’: ibid. 34.

54 ‘At, inquit Altmannus, centurio adfuit in aedibus Caiaphae: sit ita, quid inde? fieri ergo potuit, ut Petrus, accentum huius centurionis audiverit. Hic vero iterum rogamus Altmannum, quis auctor umquam eiusmodi accentum ἀλεκτρυών aut ἀλέκτωρ appellaverit?’: ibid. 36.

55 Ugolino, Blasius, Thesaurus antiquitatum sacrarum, xxvii, Venice 1763, 2–34 Google Scholar.

56 Much like today, the pressure to accelerate graduation rates led to a more condensed curriculum by the late eighteenth century, a trend lamented by the German Lutheran theologian Georg Lorenz Bauer (1755–1806): ‘Es ist zu beklagen, daß, wenn das Studium der hebr. Alterthümer vormals auf Universitäten mit zu großem Eifer ist getrieben worden, selbiges jetzt zu sehr vernachlässiget wird. Kaum findet man in den gewöhnlichen Lectionsverzeichnissen hie und da noch einen Lehrer, der sie auszubieten waget, und noch seltner mag der Fall seyn, daß sie wirklich gelehrt werden. Dieses rührt aber von der jetzigen Art des Studirens und besonders von der Art, wie man Theologie studirt, her. In zwey oder höchstens drey Jahren will der studirende Jüngling seinen cursum absolviren’: Kurzes Lehrbuch der hebräischen Alterthümer des Alten und Neuen Testaments, Leipzig 1797, iii.

57 Adriaan Reland, Antiquitates sacrae veterum Hebraeorum, Utrecht 1708; Groetsch, ‘Digging without dirt’, 197–208.

58 Siegfried, ‘Simonis, Johann’, in Allgemeine Deutsche Biographie xxxiv (1892), 379–80Google Scholar, at <https://www.deutsche-biographie.de/pnd100409067.html#adbcontent>.

59 Simonis, Johann, Vorlesungen über die jüdischen Alterthümer nach Anleitung Hadr. Relands Antiquitatum sacr. veterum Hebraeorum, ed. Mursinna, Samuel, Halle 1769, 39–41 Google Scholar.

60 See Mulsow, Martin, Radikale Frühaufklärung in Deutschland, 1680–1720, I: Moderne aus dem Untergrund , Göttingen 2018, 143–94Google Scholar.

61 On Reimarus see Groetsch, Reimarus; on Edelmann see Schaper, Annegret, Ein langer Abschied vom Christentum: Johann Christian Edelmann (1698–1767) und die deutsche Frühaufklärung, Marburg 1996 Google Scholar.

62 Wright, Walter L. Jr., ‘English, George Bethune’, in Dictionary of American Biography iii, New York 1929, 165 Google Scholar.

63 George Bethune English, The grounds of Christianity examined, in Richard Popkin (ed.), Disputing Christianity: the 400-year-old debate over Rabbi Isaac ben Abraham of Troki’s classic arguments, intr. and pref. Jeremy Popkin, New York 2007, 181–2. On the anti-Christian tractate of Isaac ben Avraham of Troki see Benfatto, Miriam, Gesù frainteso: la polemica ebraica anticristiana nel ‘Sefer ḥizzuq emunah’ di Yiṣḥaq ben Avraham Troqi (c. 1533–1594), Rome 2022 Google Scholar.