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      [藝論·研究] 原创 西方伪史有多离谱:古希腊为了写书,可能养了一亿只羊

      已有 15 次阅读   2025-09-19 22:05
      原创 西方伪史有多离谱:古希腊为了写书,可能养了一亿只羊
      史說新語 2025-09-19 08:00
      亞裏士多德寫了多少字?西方說法是5000萬。抄這些字,用的是莎草紙、羊皮紙,全靠人工,一字一筆寫出來。
      你往下細算,光紙張就得用掉20萬張莎草紙或幾百萬張羊皮紙,養羊都得養到天邊去。別說寫了,就問這紙在哪?羊在哪?工坊在哪?一個都找不著。
      結果文字留下了,材料全沒了,這文明神話也太幹淨利落了點。今天咱就照著賬單掰著指頭算,看看古希臘到底寫了書,還是寫了個“幻術”。
      亞裏士多德生于公元前384年,卒于公元前322年,享年62歲。按西方學界主流說法,他一生寫下超過5000萬字。
      這一數字最早出現在文藝複興時期,隨後被反複引用,成爲“古希臘學術黃金時代”的標志內容。
      現存亞裏士多德原始文獻總量約150萬字。涵蓋《形而上學》《政治學》《修辭學》《倫理學》等,被整理爲“牛津版全集”。其余所謂“5000萬字”,缺乏明確抄本、缺乏文字追蹤、缺乏物理文獻支撐,且西方學界對該數字來源從未公開說明。
      莎草紙爲古代地中海沿岸文獻主要書寫材料,單張容量約500字。卷軸平均裝訂容量爲5000字,折合每萬字需要2卷。5000萬字需消耗1萬卷莎草紙,約等于20萬張單張紙材。
      每張紙平均消耗1至2株莎草。20萬張紙所需莎草在20萬至40萬株之間。莎草爲埃及特産,限于尼羅河流域濕地氣候,當年年産總量不足500萬張。亞裏士多德一個人需消耗該區域年産量5%至10%,且不包含其他哲學家、文書、行政用途。
      制作流程包括采割、切割、壓片、粘合、幹燥、打磨。按每日處理效率計算,1人每日生産紙張不足15張,1萬卷需至少80名工匠連續工作400天以上,同時保障運輸、防潮、裝訂等後勤系統配合。以希臘當年農業社會平均勞力結構,不具備同時調動千人用于文獻加工的社會基礎。
      西方史學未提供任何與此規模相匹配的紙坊遺址、運輸路線、紙材交易賬冊。同時期埃及出土紙張中,僅發現零星文書、行政賬本、個人書信,規模有限,遠不支撐百萬字級學術工程。
      莎草紙流通過程中無“古希臘直達埃及”的文獻記錄,所有流轉路徑皆出現在羅馬或後期拜占庭階段。而莎草紙若爲哲學家必需品,應存在穩定跨國供給機制。
      在材料端已經斷裂的背景下,所謂“5000萬字”,只能停留在口頭敘述層。當基礎紙張系統本身不成立,文獻産出數字便無法成立。
      紙張之外,工藝與勞動力如何支撐如此體量的學術複制。
      一名熟練抄寫員每日最高抄寫量爲2500字。以此速度抄完5000萬字,需時2萬人日,合計100人連續工作兩年整,或單人不眠不休54年。
      古希臘勞力集中于農業、航運、軍役。當時沒有職業出版業系統,更未建立公共圖書館式書籍流通體系。文獻傳播依靠私人圖書館與師徒手抄複制,極度依賴人工勞力。
      一張莎草紙相當于一名工匠1天工資。若每卷成本折合15至20日工資,1萬卷成本總值等于15萬至20萬日工資,折合200人年勞動力,等于一個中小城邦全年勞務成本支出總額。
      亞裏士多德同時期著作無明確“書坊”支撐系統。現有考古證據中,未見任何雅典紙張集中加工遺址、羊皮工坊記錄,亦無勞力調配銘文、契約文書出土支撐此類大規模制作。
      柏拉圖、阿基米德、赫拉克利特等人合計著作量達數千萬字。若均按手抄流通計算,總體書寫工作量需耗資至少上千萬銀幣。古希臘年均財政收入不超過百萬銀幣。
      古代文獻以功能文書爲主,保存率高者爲宗教、法律、貿易賬冊,哲學類文本需反複校對、重複抄錄,維護成本高于寫作成本本身。大量文獻在傳播過程自然淘汰,難以形成長期系統存留。
      古希臘現存哲學文獻中,超過70%版本出自後期阿拉伯翻譯版本。大部分原文版本早已消失,僅有拉丁文或拜占庭後期稿本。5000萬字中,目前實物證明僅限150萬字,存世率3%以下。
      哲學內容本身存在高度口述成分。亞裏士多德門生多爲聽講筆記,後人整理複刻形成“全集”。若如此,5000萬字理論體系不應出自單人筆端,而是團隊複述産物,無法歸于個人寫作。
      在勞動力系統無從支撐的情況下,大規模哲學書寫活動缺乏社會現實基礎。寫得出是一種奇迹,抄得完是另一種奇迹。以雅典當時人口與資源結構,雙重奇迹同步實現的概率極低。
      羊皮紙爲古典時期書寫材料的另一來源。以一只羊可出一至兩張羊皮紙計算,寫一部50萬字的文集需消耗至少500張紙,折合250至500只羊。
      若亞裏士多德全集爲5000萬字,則需紙張5萬張以上,對應羊只數量達100萬至200萬頭。此計算未涵蓋反複抄寫、磨損替換、損毀重寫等過程。
      古希臘年均羊只存欄數未見系統記錄。而現代畜牧估算顯示,希臘本土生態環境僅能支持有限牧羊密度。若真有百萬級“文化用羊”,應形成産業帶、交易所、加工坊,然現無任何實物考古印證。
      羊皮紙制作流程複雜。需宰羊、剝皮、清洗、曬幹、塗膠、壓平,單張紙工序不少于10步,周期最長達20日。書籍抄寫仍依賴鵝毛筆、鐵墨水,整套環節需工匠、宰夫、書寫員聯動。
      現存任何古希臘文獻中,未見“紙張署名”、“加工批次”、“寫作日志”之類常規出版標識。大量文稿來源不明,僅見“亞裏士多德全集整理本”,整理人、時間均爲公元後期。
      羊皮紙流通痕迹主要集中于拜占庭、阿拉伯地區,未在前4世紀雅典出土大量紙張殘片。
      與此同時,中國漢代《史記》書寫總量爲52萬字,采用千卷竹簡,結合漆器、帛書,文字承載符合物質條件。古希臘文獻系統長期未明確對應紙材數量、成本、勞力動員機制。
      以一億只羊來換書,是諷刺,更是拷問。當西方史學借“哲學奇迹”鋪陳神話時,基礎工藝、産業規模、經濟邏輯無一支撐。羊皮再厚,也包不住缺失的文獻邏輯。返回搜狐,查看更多

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      He held out his hand. ‘I shall be very pleased to show you anything I’ve got,’ said Keeling. ‘We will have a cup of{274} tea in my library unless Lady Inverbroom is waiting in your motor.’ The morning after their return from Enoshima was mostly spent at the hotel, as all three of the excursionists were somewhat fatigued with their journey. The boys embraced the opportunity to ask the Doctor the meaning of certain things they had observed in Japan, and which had not been brought up in conversation. Till we look on the world from above." "Would I not tell my dream, as nice young men in the Bible always did?" "No," he said, "my last name is Durand." He gave it the French pronunciation. "She air!" He was pleased. "Yass, we all good frien's togetheh." "Gholson, s'e, 'I done as I done, sir, from my highest sense o' duty. This ain't Lieutenant Helm's own little private war, Lieutenant Quinn, nor mine, nor yours.'" "I am Charlotte Oliver." "I'm afraid your explanation won't hold water," he rejoined. "I can't bring myself not to believe in what I saw. You see, all my life I have been trying to believe in miracles, in manifestations. I have always said that if only we could bring ourselves to accept what is not obvious. My best sermons have been upon[Pg 129] that subject: of the desirability of getting ourselves into the receptive state. Sometimes the Vicar has objected. He seemed to think I was piling it on deliberately. But I assure you, Doctor Allingham, that I have always wanted to believe—and, in this case, it was only my infirmity and my unfortunate nervousness that led me to lose such an opportunity." "It sounds incredible," the Countess said. There was a faint moaning cry in the doorway, a tiny white figure stood there. Mamie had been awakened by the ringing of the bell, she had missed Hetty, and had come down in her childish way to see what was the matter. For compasses, the lead points should be cylindrical, and fit into a metal sheath without paper packing or other contrivance to hold them; and if a draughtsman has instruments not arranged in this manner, he should have them changed at once, both for convenience and economy. Chuck-boring is employed in three cases; for holes of shallow depth, taper holes, and holes that are screw-threaded. As pieces are overhung in lathe-boring there is not sufficient rigidity neither of the lathe spindle nor of the tools to admit of deep boring. The tools being guided in a straight line, and capable of acting at any angle to the axis of rotation, the facilities for making tapered holes are complete; and as the tools are stationary, and may be instantly adjusted, the same conditions answer for cutting internal screw-threads; an operation corresponding to cutting external screws, except that the cross motions of the tool slide are reversed. "Sister," I said, "I am a cousin of S?ur Eulalie, and should like to see her, to know how she is and take her greetings to her family in The Netherlands." 102 As I went a patrol marched out—reinforcements had again come from Tongres—whose task was to clear the district of the enemy. The patrol consisted of six Death-head hussars, about forty bicyclists, and the rest infantry, altogether about four hundred men, who were able to keep together, because the hussars and the cyclists proceeded very slowly and cautiously in the direction of Lanaeken. I went with them, chatting with one of the officers. As soon as they had got to the road, the greatest caution188 was observed. The hussars went in front, followed by some of the infantry, all in loose formation, continually looking about in all directions, with the finger at the cock of the rifle. Nor is it only the personality of Socrates that has been so variously conceived; his philosophy, so far as it can be separated from his life, has equally given occasion to conflicting interpretations, and it has even been denied that he had, properly speaking, any philosophy at all. These divergent presentations of his teaching, if teaching it can be called, begin with the two disciples to whom our knowledge of it is almost entirely due. There is, curiously enough, much the same inner discrepancy between Xenophon’s Memorabilia and those111 Platonic dialogues where Socrates is the principal spokesman, as that which distinguishes the Synoptic from the Johannine Gospels. The one gives us a report certainly authentic, but probably incomplete; the other account is, beyond all doubt, a highly idealised portraiture, but seems to contain some traits directly copied from the original, which may well have escaped a less philosophical observer than Plato. Aristotle also furnishes us with some scanty notices which are of use in deciding between the two rival versions, although we cannot be sure that he had access to any better sources of information than are open to ourselves. By variously combining and reasoning from these data modern critics have produced a third Socrates, who is often little more than the embodiment of their own favourite opinions. the summer when I wasn't teaching Latin to my two stupid children. And so on, in an endless file, come the bodies of the faithful dead, some from long distances, so that their souls may rise at once to paradise from their ashes burnt on the Manumenka. “Looks bad, this-here, don’t it?” He grinned. Turning with a confidential air and addressing Dick, for whom he seemed to have the greater liking, Mr. “Everdail” spoke. “All ready!” called Larry, bending the end of the line so its flow went into the central tank of the amphibian. As soon as the yacht came in sight, they stared toward the stern. “We can prove it—come on!” He held up a hand, and pointed ahead, then opened the throttle, came onto a straightaway course over the hydroplane, rapidly overhauled it and got well ahead. Then, cutting the gun and gliding, as it came up under them, he signaled, and Dick, waiting, ignited a second flare. “What about Tommy Larsen?” He failed in his purpose. “Tommy’s a good pilot,” Jeff admitted. “Well—I’ll be on my way. See you at the next air Derby!” Jeff grinned at his joke and walked on. Countless times his nerves had been pulled by sounds which turned out on second thought to be only the contracting of the hot metal, subjected to the sun all day, as the evening breeze robbed it of its warmth. “He could start his motor and taxi while it warmed up, and be half across the Sound before he took off if he wanted to, in that ‘phib,’” the pilot said. Turning, he called that he would get going, and returned beyond their view beyond the trees. "Some Sierra Blanca, sir," said the soldier. It was respectful enough, and yet there was somewhere in the man's whole manner an air of equality, even superiority, that exasperated the lieutenant. It was contrary to good order and military discipline that a private should speak without hesitation, or without offence to the English tongue. A long sunset shadow fell across his path, and he looked up. Felipa was walking beside a little white burro, and holding Mrs. Campbell's golden-curled baby upon its back. She carried her head superbly erect, and her step, because of the moccasins, was quite noiseless. The glow of the sunset shone in her unflinching eyes, and lost itself in the dull black mass of her hair. She studied his face calmly, with a perfectly impersonal approval. There were also magazines and a few books in more than one language, wild flowers arranged in many sorts[Pg 36] of strange jars, and in the corner, by an improvised couch, a table stacked with cups and plates of Chelsea-Derby, which were very beautiful and very much out of place. "Over here to Tucson" was a three days' ride under the most favorable circumstances; but with the enthusiastic botanist dismounting at short intervals to make notes and press and descant upon specimens, it was five days before they reached, towards nightfall, the metropolis of the plains. At the instant a cloud floated over the sun, and soon a black bank began to fill up the sky above the ca?on. As they ate their breakfast in the tent, the morning darkened forebodingly. Felipa finished the big quart cup of weak coffee hurriedly, and stood up, pushing[Pg 99] back her camp-stool. Her horse and four others were waiting. Kirby was without fear, but he was also without redress. He turned from them, his face contracted with the pain of his impotence, and walked back to the house. "I could order them off the ranch to-night," he told his wife, as he dropped on a chair, and taking up the hearth brush made a feint of sweeping two or three cinders from the floor; "but it's ten to one they wouldn't go and it would weaken my authority—not that I have any, to be sure—and besides," he flung down the brush desperately and turned to her, "I didn't want to tell you before, but there is a pretty straight rumor that Victorio's band, or a part of it, is in these hills. We may need the men at any time." Neither spoke of the two who should have been back hours ago. The night closed slowly down. [Pg 209] "Now you get up and walk in front of me, and don't you try to bolt. I can run faster than you can, and, anyway, I'll shoot you if you try it." The probable outcome of things at the rate they were going was perfectly apparent. Landor would advance in age, respectability, and rank, and would be retired and settle down on three-fourths pay. He himself would end up in some cow-boy row, degraded and worthless, a tough character very probably, a fine example of nothing save atavism. And Felipa would grow old. That splendid triumphant youth of hers would pass, and she would be a commonplace, subdued, middle-aged woman, in whom a relapse to her nature would be a mere vulgarity. She gave a dry little sob of unutterable glad relief and tried to raise her voice and call to him, the call they used for one another when they rode about the ranch. But the sound was only a weak, low wail. Eugene, during these affairs, had been actively prosecuting the fortunes of the Allies with his remnant of an army. He pushed on the siege of Quesnoy, and took it. He sent a flying detachment of one thousand five hundred cavalry, under Major-General Grovestein, to make an incursion into France. This force made a rapid raid in Champagne, passed the Noire, the Meuse, the Moselle, and the Saar, ravaged the country, reduced a great number of villages and towns to[7] ashes, rode up to the very gate of Metz, and then retired to Traerbach with a load of rich booty. This was a proof of what might have been done in France at this period with the whole army united under a commander like Marlborough, in place of miserably giving up everything to that country in the moment of power. As it was, it created the utmost consternation in Paris, the people of which already saw the English at their gate; whilst Louis did not think himself safe at Versailles, but gathered all the troops in the neighbourhood of the capital around his palace, leaving the city to take care of itself. WELFEN CASTLE, HANOVER. Colonel Gardiner endeavoured to charge the advancing enemy with his dragoons; but it was in vain that he attempted to animate their craven souls by word and example—at the first volley of the Highlanders they wheeled and fled. The same disgraceful scene took place on the left, at nearly the same moment. Hamilton's regiment of horse dispersed at the first charge of the Macdonalds, leaving the centre exposed on both its flanks. The infantry made a better stand than the cavalry; it discharged a steady and well-directed volley on the advancing Highlanders, and killed some of their best men, amongst others, a son of the famous Rob Roy. But the Highlanders did not give them time for a second volley; they were up with them, dashed aside their bayonets with their targets, burst through their ranks in numerous places, so that the whole, not being able to give way on account of the park wall of Preston, were thrown into confusion, and at the mercy of the foe. Never was a battle so instantly decided—it is said not to have lasted more than five or six minutes; never was a defeat more absolute. Sir John Cope, or Johnnie Cope, as he will be styled in Scotland to the end of time, by the assistance of the Earls of Loudon and Home, collected about four hundred and fifty of the recreant dragoons, and fled to Coldstream that night. There not feeling secure, they continued their flight till they reached Berwick, where Sir Mark Kerr received Cope with the[97] sarcastic but cruelly true remark that he believed that he was the first general on record who had carried the news of his own defeat. "The same idea has occurred to me," said the Lieutenant; "though I've felt all along that we should not be diverted by anything from making our way as fast as possible up to the main line. What do you think, Shorty?" "I cannot get you out of the army too quickly. Sign this, and leave my office, and take off your person every sign of your connection with the army. I shall give orders that if you appear on the street with so much as a military button on, it shall be torn off you." "I'd probably hit him a welt and he'd go off bawlin' like a calf," he communed with himself. "No; Billings is too tame, now, until he finds out whether we've got anything on him to send him to the penitentiary, where he orter go." "But you ain't nigh 18," said Si, looking him over, pleased with the boy's spirit. Si and Shorty ran down in the direction indicated. They found the boys, stern-eyed and resolute, surrounding two weak-eyed, trembling "crackers," who had apparently come to the train with baskets of leathery-crusted dried-apple pies for sale. The men were specimens of the weak-minded, weak-bodied, lank-haired "po' white trash," but the boys had sized them up on sight as dangerous spies and guerrillas, had laid hands on them and dragged them down into the brush, where Gid Mackall and Harry Joslyn were doing a fair reproduction of Williams, Paulding and Van Wert searching Maj. Andre's clothes for incriminating documents. They had the prisoners' hands tied behind them and their ankles bound. So far they had discovered a clumsy brass-barreled pistol and an ugly-looking spring dirk, which were sufficient to confirm the dangerous character of the men. Two of the boys had secured ropes from the train, which they were trying to fashion into hangman's nooses. Gid and Harry finished a painstaking examination of the men's ragged jeans vests, with a look of disappointment at finding nothing more inculpating that some fishhooks, chunks of twist tobacco and cob-pipes. "Do you say that Sherman has extra tunnels, too, to put in whenever one is needed?" asked Harry, with opening eyes. "You bob-tailed brevet West Pointer," said Shorty savagely, raising his fist, "I've a notion to break you in two for tryin' to beat me out o' what's mine. Git out o' here, or I'll—" Fruyling's World The song was necessary, and his voice, carrying over the sounds that filtered through to him, was clear and strong. The Quarter Sessions were held early in December, and Robert's case came wedged between the too hopeful finances of a journeyman butcher and the woes of a farmer from Guldeford who had tried to drown himself and his little boy off the Midrips. Robert was sentenced to three years' imprisonment. "Of course it is—and the very best silk too. I'll put it on. Please undo my dress." Her look of surprise and adoration was his reward. Pete fetched some soup from the larder and heated it up to a tepid condition; he also produced bread and cold bacon, which the prodigal could not touch. Albert sat hunched up by the fire, coughing and shivering. He had not altered much since he left Odiam; he was thin and hectic, and had an unshaved look about him, also there were a few grey streaks in his hair—otherwise he was the same. His manner was the same too, though his voice had changed completely, and he had lost his Sussex accent. "If I could only see a parson," sobbed Albert at last. "Sacrilege!" shouted he—"sacrilege! Take them, dead or alive!" It was to little purpose that Richard expostulated; the fair Joan was resolved to share in whatever perils might befal her son. As they approached Mile-end, the princess started at the deafening clamour which arose from the multitude; some shouting for Richard as they saw him advance, and others vociferating as loudly that all should hold their peace until they knew what the king would grant. When the tumult had in some degree subsided, Sir Aubrey de Vere and Sir Robert Knowles rode forward in advance of the king, and approaching Jack Straw, who was also on horseback:—
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      ENTER NUMBET 0012