Conversion in Late Antiquity and The Early Middle Ages

CONVERSION IN LATE ANTIQUITY
AND THE EARLY MIDDLE AGES

Seeing and Believing
EDITED BY
KENNETH MILLS
AND
ANTHONY GRAFTON
-m u niversity of Rochester Press

STUDIES IN COMPARATIVE HISTORY
ESSAYS FROM THE
SHELBY CULLOM DAVIS CENTER

FOR HISTORICAL STUDIES
Animals in Human Histories: The Mirror 0/ Nature and Culture

Edited by Mary J. Henninger-Voss
The Animal/Human Boundary: Historical Perspectives

Edited by Angela N. H. Creager and William Chester Jordan
Conversion: Old Worlds and New

Edi ted by Kenneth Mills and Anthony Grafton
Conversion in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages

Seeing and Believing
Edited by Kenneth Mills and Anthony Grafton
A Publication of the
Shelby Cullom Davis Center for Historical Studies
Princeton U niversity
Directors
Lawrence Stone (1974-1988)
Natalie Zemon Davis (1988-1994)
William Chester Jordan (1994-1999)
Anthony T. Grafton (1999- )
Copyright 2003 Kenneth ~ills and Anthony Grafton
All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under current legislation, no part of this work may be
photocopied, stored in a retrieval system, published, performed in public, adapted, broadcast,
transmitted, recorded, oe reproduced in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of
the copyright owner.
University of Rochester Press

668 Mt. Hope Avenue
Rochester, New York, 14620, USA
Boydell & Brewer, Ltd.
P.O. Box 9, Woodbridge, Suffolk IIP12 3DF, UK
www.urpress.com
ISSN 1539-4905
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Conversion in late antiquity and the Middle Ages : seeing and believing / edited by
Kenneth Mills and Anthony Grafton
p. cm. - (Studies in comparative history, ISSN 1539-4905)
HA publication of the Shelby Cullom Davis Center for Historical Studies, Princeton University."
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 1-5846-125-5 (alk. paper)
1. Conversion-Christianity-History-To 1500-Congresses. 1. Mills,
Kenneth, 1964- H. Grafton, Anthony. IU. Series.
234 110
ct001 I /T200'~b
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This publication is printed on acid-free paper

Printed in the United States of America
Designed and typeset by Straight Creek Bookmakers
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments vu
i ntroductitm ix
KENNETH MILLS AND ANTHONY GRAFTON
1. Inscriptions and Conversions: Gregory of Nazianzus on Baptism

(Gr. 38-4) I
SUSANNA ELM
2. The Politics of Passing: ]ustin Martyr's Conversion as a

Problem of "Hellenization" 36
REBECCA LYMAN
3. Conversion and Burial in the Late Roman Empire 6I

ERIC RE BILLARD
4. Converting the Un-Christianizable: The Baptism of Stage Performers

in Late Antiquity 84
RICHARD LIM
5. The Many Conversions of the Emperor Constantine 127

RAYMOND VAN DAM
6. "Delivered from Their Ancient Customs": Christianity and the

Question of Cultural Change in Early Byzantine Ethnography 152
MICHAEL MAAS
7. "Emending Evil Ways and Praising God's Omnipotence":

Einhard and the U ses of Roman Martyrs 189
]ULIA M. H. SMITH
v
VI CONTENTS
8. Seeing and Believing:

Aspects of Conversion from Antoninus Pius to Louis the Pious 224
NEIL McLYNN
Notes on Contributors 27 I
Index 273
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book began from a set of papers presented at a symposium on conver-

sion in late antiquity at Princeton's Davis Center for Historical Studies in
the fall semester of 1999, and it' gathered a complementary essay Oulia M.
H. Smith's) the following spring. Thus the editors wish first to thank the
organizers, Susanna Elm and Peter Brown, and the contributors to the
symposium, as weIl as the many participants'in,discussions both on that day
and throughout the Davis Center's concentration upon the theme of conver-
sion between 1999 and 2001. We are also grateful to Kari Hoover for
facilitating the Center's events and to Timothy Madigan and Molly Cort at
the U niversity of Rochester Press for their interest and for shepherding the
project into print. And finally we thank Gavin Lewis, who has copy-edited
each of the contributions with sensitivity and skill.
Vll
INTRODUCTION
KENNETH MILLS AND ANTHONY GRAFTON
Religious conversion, though much evoked in late antique and early medi-
eval times and written about ever since, was not often publicly observable.
While conversion was commonly represented by ancient and early medieval
writers as a singular and personally momentous mental event, gradual and
incomplete social processes lurk behind their words. Susanna Elm, a con-
tributor to this volume, contends that in describing the shift of affiliation
that was religious conversion, ancient authors allowed apparently compet-
ing vocabularies of change to merge. In their understanding, a measured
process of illumination is joined by images of impression and inscription,
with the latter conceptual pair capturing neatly the role of texts and exege-
sis in these thinkers' spiritual and intellectuallives. Complete conversion-
strictly defined and lived--is a chimera, something to be imagined,
constituted, preached, and pleaded for. Time and again, officially prescribed
Christianity comes uJ? against the limits of its ability to steer converts and
dictate the terms of their belief and practice.
This book is one of two collections of essays on religious conversion
drawn from the activities of the Shelby Cullom Davis Center for Historical
Studies at Princeton University between 1999 and 2001. Both collections
focus upon conversion to, within, and around forms of Western Christianity.
While the other volume treats cases of religious conversion across a broad
temporal and geographie expanse, this one concentrates upon late antique
and early medieval Europe, long one of this theme's most celebrated playing
fields. All but one of the book's essays Qulia Smith's, which was presented
before the Davis Center seminar as an individual paper in the spring of
2000) began as contributions to a memorable symposium organized by
Susanna Elm and Peter Brown in the autumn of 1999. 1
The essays follow a basically chronological sequence, but with an eye also
to preparing the reader for the thematic pairings and comparisons proposed
by Neil McLynn's concluding discussion. Thus Susanna Elm's study of three
orations on baptism by Gregory of Nazianzus in the late fourth century as
clues towards an ancient understanding of religious conversion accompanies
1X
x INTRODUCTION
Rebecca Lyman's interpretation of the conversion of Justin Martyr within

the religious and cultural atmosphere of Roman Hellenism in the second
century. Eric Rebillard's investigation of the meaning behind the funerary
inscriptions and burial places of converts to new cults (such as Christianity)
in the fourth and fifth centuries precedes a piece by Richard Lim exploring
the baptism of stage performers and Christian narratives of their conversion
in these late Roman times.
Raymond Van Dam's contemplation of the life of Constantine through
the ambiguous and changing meanings of the bronze statue of the emperor
in the centuries after its placement as the triumphant center of his eastern
capital of Constantinople in 330 comes next. The focus of the book remains
in the Greek East with Michael Maas's study of the Christianization of
different kinds of early Byzantine ethnographie writing. The final essay by
Julia Smith makes a leap from Maas's sixth- and seventh-century East back
to the Latin West and on to the ninth century. Through her reading of a
transfer of early Christian relics from Rome to a newly constructed church
in Germany, Smith shows how the skillful appropriation of a sacred Roman
past fired the Carolingian programs of religious and moral correction which
followed baptism and continued conversion.
Converts "retain their room for maneuver." These words are among the
summarizing remarks of Neil McLynn in an afterword that renders much in
the way of introductory words to this book unnecessary. McLynn's contribu-
tion would have become the book's introduction were it not for the fact that
it began as an oral commentary and retains the nature of a concluding set
of thoughts. McLynn's afterword is in fact a contribution of its own, an
eighth chapter that not only thinks through and across what he character-
izes as the volume's "seven experiments along the line of the 'Rise of Chris-
tianity,'" but also suggests further lines of inquiry for students of religious
conversion and related processes of cultural interaction, diffusion, and change
far beyond the fields of Late Antiquity and the early Middle Ages.
NOTES
I. The full tide of the Davis Center's two-year theme was "Conversion:
Sacred and Profane." The other collection of essays is Kenneth Mills and
Anthony Grafton , eds., Conversion: Old Worlds and New (Rochester, N.Y,
23)
CONVERSION IN LATE ANTIQUITY AND THE
EARLY MIDDLE AGES:
SEEING AND BE,LIEVING
I
INSCRIPTIONS AND CONVERSIONS

GREGORY OF NAZIANZUS ON BAPTISM (Gr. 38-4)
SUSANNA ELM
lt is today that we must write in you and impress you (wJrw(}fjvar) towards per/ection. Let us
enter . . . give me the tablets (JrAaICaq) 0/ your heart, 1 am /or you Moses . . . and 1 write in
)lou with God's fingers a new Decalogue. 1 write in you the synopsis (enlv't'o,uov) 0/ salvation.
-Gr. Naz. Or. 40.45
This paper will focus on three orations on baptism by the late fourth-
century C.E. Cappadocian "Church Father" Gregory of Nazianzus to argue
three interrelated points. First, contrary to "modern" notions of conversion,
which are frequently shaped by a narrow concept of it as a "flash of illumi-
nation" signaling the moment of intense personal rejection of a previously
held belief in favor of another one (or at least the narrative representation of
such an intense personal experience),l many ancient authors told a very
different story when describing a shift in religious affiliation. Ancient au-
thors who wrote personal accounts of such a shift, like Gregory of Nazian-
zus or Augustine, did, of course, employ the terminology of illumination.
However, their illumination language carried a different meaning than that
implied by many of their post-Enlightenment interpreters. 2 The ancient
authors used the terminology of illumination to describe a process, which
resulted over time in something one might characterize as "conversion"; the
possibility of salvation through continuous adherence to a new "religious"
VlSlOn.
Second, although in their understanding such a process was initiated in
amoment, rather than describing such a moment as a "flash of light," the
ancient authors studied he re employed the vocabulary of "inscription" and
"imprinting" with its wide range of associated meanings to denote the
moment initiating the process of shifting religious affiliation, that is, the
I
2 SEEING AND BELIEVING
process of conversion. Both, the "inscription" vocabulary as weIl as that

used to define "process" permitted ancient authors to describe and prescribe
a great variety of "conversions" (those of individuals, of groups, those under-
gone voluntarily and less so), because of the density of meanings associated
with "inscriptions." Further, by combining the language of inscription (de-
notio-g the moment) with that of illumination (denoting the process), an
author like Gregory of Nazianzus made it clear that such a moment and
process denoted a very specific kind of change: inscription and illumination
accomplished a true transformation of cosmological significance by realign-
ing the individual in his relationship to the imagined, unchangeable (heav-
enly) spheres and their corresponding material (earthly) realities capable of
change (humanity); each in turn clearly defined by Platonic (celestial spheres),
Aristotelian (sublunar ones), and Stoic (divine, ethereal materiality under-
stood as intelligible light) concepts. 3
Third, the event that crystallized both moment and process and the
context within which ancient authors elaborated much of the above was
baptism. Baptism, its rituals, and its interpretation and representation were
intrinsically related to each author's cosmology. This cosmology in turn
reflected his interpretation of salvation and the human capacity to achieve
it. While this might be a commonplace, the secondary literature on the
topic rarely places accounts of baptism into their context, focusing instead
on a more diachronic reconstruction of the ritual event. Further, even in
that respect Gregory of Nazianzus's writings on baptism are frequently
disregarded. Though he was an "orthodox" author of tremendous influence
in the Greek-speaking part of the Roman Empire, later scholars did not
consider hirn a model bishop and thus did not consider his writings on
baptism as significant as, for example, those of his contemporary Basil of
Caesarea. The rare secondary scholarly works utilizing his writings on the
subject tend to resort to them only in support of the reconstruction of
"orthodox" Constantinopolitan and Cappadocian practices at the end of the
fourth century as gleaned from other sources. Gregory wrote his orations on
baptism during his brief tenure as bishop of Constantinople in 38 I. How-
ever, by concentrating solelyon Constantinopolitan ritual practices, the
secondary literature overlooks the fact that Gregory developed his own
(later orthodox) notions of baptism and salvation in direct response to sev-
eral other competing notions and practices, that is, in response to compet-
ing cosmologies. These competing cosmologies and their associated notions
of baptism are weIl known under such labels as "Arian," "Eunomian," "No-
vatian," or "Messalian."
The continuing use of such polemical labels in much of the scholarly
literature obscures, however, the degree to which Gregory's views were
INSCRIPTIONS AND CONVERSIONS 3
those of a distinct minority. He was on the defensive and had to persuade

others who were very influential in the capital and beyond of his views over
and against their own. While Gregory stressed that one was baptized into
Christ's incarnation, others declared that baptism was into Christ's resurrec-
tion, while others baptized into Christ's death. Yet again others, all of them
present and active at Constantinople, considered baptism an act of such
profound purification that subsequent sin became an unpardonable impos-
sibility. Hence the profound significance of the act of inscribing. All the
protagonists were bishops and priests, and all baptized into "the name of
the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit" (Mt. 28: 19). However, by the
380s, the precise meaning of each of these terms and their relation to each
other had been under debate for at least seventy years. Moreover, in 380, the
new emperor Theodosius had just reversed a twenty-year-old formula ac-
cording to which Father and Son were similar in essence, declaring them
now to be the same. Thus, what had to be inscribed into the soul of the
newly baptized were not only the words "Father," "Son," "Holy Spirit," but
their correct meaning, which could only be assured if aligned correctly
within the correct cosmology.
Placing the focus on the language of inscription and impression com-
bined with that of illumination, rather than on conversion understood as a
"flash of lightening," highlights the fact that for Gregory and his contem-
poraries "conversion" was a matter of cosmology and exegesis, that is, of the
correct adaptation of Genesis and Scripture into each author's understand-
ing of Platonic notions of cosmology. Only the "right" exegesis of Plato
through the Old and New Testaments could guarantee salvation of the
individual as weIl as the entire community. Such a shift in focus also high-
lights the degree to which Gregory shared his fundamental concepts as weIl
as his idiom (inscription, illumination) with those with whom he argued,
the Greek-speaking elite of the later Roman Empire. All of these men were
engaged in a continuing philosophical debate of long standing, that be-
tween Middle and Neo-Platonism. At stake was the question whether or
not "matter," that is, the human body, could be saved. Rather than "pagan-
ism" and "Christianity," the most profound dividing lines opposed those
who thought that physical matter could ascend and hence be saved and
those who doubted that very much. What made these differences so vital
was the fact that man and cosmos, the "inner" and the "outer," the sacred
and the secular, and hence the order and prosperity of the entire imperial
realm were seen as one continuous whole. Therefore, mistakes in the under-
standing of the cosmos and the means by which humans were aligned
within it affected everything. They precluded salvation and implied the
failure to serve God and his subjects. 4 To rephrase my point, in writing
about baptism and illumination, Gregory needed to "convert" those who

believed in different cosmologies regardless of whether they were described
as "pagans"or "heretics."
GREGORY OF NAZIANZUS AND HIS RATIONS 38-4
o newmixture! 0 paradoxical fusion!

-Gr. Naz. On the Nativity 38.13
{/(I attest before God and the elected angels that you will be baptized with this faith." If one has
written in you something other than my sernlOn has set out, come here, so what has been written in
you will be modified. I am not without talent to write that into you; I write what has been
written into me.
- Gr. Naz. On Baptism 40.44
"Write it on the memory tab/ets of your mind (aV IlVr,JlOal v 8iMolQ fjJpevmv)."
-Aeschylus, Prometheus Bound, 1. 789.
Gregory of Nazianzus's Orations 38 and 40 form part of a set of three

interrelated orations Gregory held on and around the Feast of the Nativity
in 380/381,5 just after his ordination as bishop of Constantinople. In these
orations, Gregory combined three elements quintessential to the kind of
change one might define as "conversion": first, God and the angels or the
heavenly realm; secondly, baptism (initiation into a new belief system); and
third, modification or change. However, in the same sentence in which he
mentioned these three elements Gregory also added the fourth concept of
interest, inscription: "If one has written in you something other than my
sermon has set out, come here, so what has been written in you will be
modified." Thus, the question arises why Gregory of Nazianzus combined
these notions not only in one sermon but in one sentence. In other words,
what vocabulary did a member of the Greek-speaking elite of the later
Roman Empire use to describe religious change, and what did he identify
as its vehicles and their location? And, as importandy, who was Gregory,
what was his agenda, and against whom did he have to compete?
Gregory of Nazianzus is an interesting phenomenon. 6 Given the tide
"The Theologian" in 451-previously only John the Evangelist had been
thus honored-Gregory was one of the most influential thinkers of the
Greek Christian world. In fact, his writings (together with those of Cyril of
Alexandria) were the most frequently cited in Byzantium, second only to
the Scriptures. Yet, he is no Augustine, though one could easily argue that
his influence in the East was more direct and equally lasting. Today, special-
ists know hirn as part of a "triumvirate," the so-eaIled Cappadoeian Fathers

of the Chureh, aIl three instrumental in formulating the eommon, "ortho-
dox" understanding of the Trinity as one in three.
While thus weIl known and weIl studied as a theologian and by theolo-
gians, Gregory of Nazianzus simultaneously has been sidelined intoa histo-
riographical niehe. This is in large part the result of the manner in whieh
Gregory wrote his own life. Gregory understood hirnself as a philosopher
and man of letters and made it his life's ambition to produee a eanon of
"classie" Christian literature in aIl genres available at the time: orations,
inveetives, panegyries, letters, poems. Central to his program was the eon-
struction and promotion of his ideal of Christian leadership as a "philosoph-
ieal" life. FoIlowing the classie paradigm, he portrayed this ideal as "torn"
between the desire for retreat and eontemplation on the one hand, and the
(onerous) duty to serve (as priest) on the other hand. Henee his historio-
graphie downfall. Over time, Gregory's program, whieh had not remained
uneontested even at his own time, no longer refleeted (Western medieval)
notions of Christian leadership as embodied by later eoneepts of the bishop.
As a result, Gregory beeame ahistoriographie oddity. While eonsidered a
gifted theologian, he was seen as an eeclesiastieal failure, beeause he adver-
tised a life eonsisting of periods of aetivity interspersed with ones of reflee-
tion and withdrawal. Thus, modern seholars eonsider hirn an idiosyneratie
"individualist," and his writings, depending on the seholar's personal and
eonEessional preferenee and disposition, as the refleetions of a romantie soul
repulsed by ehureh polities, or as those of a man who exeeIled at theology
but was ineapable of making up his ~ind and stieking to his decisions.
However, onee one takes seriously the possibility that Gregory was a prod-
uet of his time, and henee plaees his notions of the Christian leadership into
their eontext, his writings take on a different weight. Programmatie, polit-
ieal, and influential, they were a far ery from the musings of an idiosynerat-
ie individual, espeeially when Gregory wrote as bishop oE Constantinople.
Orations 38-4 were held within weeks of Gregory's ordination as bish-
op of Constantinople at the instigation of the newly aeclaimed emperor
Theodosius, against intense eompetition and in lieu of the very popular
"Arian" bishop Demophilus, whom the emperor had relegated to the sub-
urbs. 7 Orations 39 and 40 were held on eonseeutive days, probably 5 and 6
January 381, and take their eue from Christ's Baptism, whereas Oration 38,
eelebrating the Theophany or birth of Christ as weIl as the adoration of the
Magi, was perhaps held as early as 25 Deeember 380, with the eentral
theme of Christ's Inearnation. 8
With few exeeptions-for example Claudio Moresehini-Gregory's Ora-
tion 40- has usuaIly been diseussed (though "mined" is perhaps the more
appropriate expression) to gain insights into specific liturgical questions,

such as the precise order in which baptism was celebrated in the Constan-
tinopolitan church in the 380s;9 whether or not confirmation and baptism
were one or two separate ceremonies; what precise developments regarding
penirential regulations might be gleaned from Gregory; 10 how catechumens
were instructed;l1 to what degree Gregory's descriptions are representative
of Syrian or Cappadocian practices; 12 and whether or not the Roman festival
calendar had already been adopted in Constantinople. 13
Though much can and should be said about these and other questions, I
will consider the three sermons as a unit to argue, first, that Gregory uses
the vocabulary of "inscription" and "imprinting" ("marking," "impressing,"
"sealing," "writing into"-xapaKTIlP, cr<\>payts, 'tU7tOS, ypa~~a'ta, 7tAaKat, crKta-
ypa<\>ot) to describe a historically defined "moment" of change in cosmolog-
ical affiliation, which initiates a lifelong process of transformation; and
secondly, that he uses the language of illumination to describe that lifelong
process of metanoia, a term frequently translated and interpreted as "conver-
sion" (and/or penitence).14 Baptism, according to Gregory, was both: the
moment as well as the process it initiated.
Gregory's understanding of "illumination" is the red thread that holds
inscription, baptism, change, moment, and process together. In classic Pla-
tonic manner, illumination in Gregory's writing is "code" for cosmology.
Thus, baptism as illumination actualized and made personal for each indi-
vidual two singular yet eternal cosmological events: 'tou 7tapa86~ou KpacrtS,
the fusion (~t~tS) of two paradoxa, two utterly incommensurable essences,
that of the unknown realm of the immaterial, intelligible, unchanging,
illuminated, and divine with that of the material or human that is capable
of change. 15 Gregory's cosmology is deeply Platonic yet marshaled to ex-
plain something utterly non-Platonic, namely the fusion of the transcenden-
tal divine essence with its ontological opposite, matter. 16 According to
Gregory, such a "paradoxical fusion" occurred twice, for the first time when
God decided to create the sensible world and man, and a second time when
the Logos became flesh to save man from the consequences of his disobedi-
ence. In Gregory's understanding, baptism is the actualization of the second
fusion in each human, the marker aligning the individual within this cos-
mological process. Hence, baptism into Christ's Incarnation. Correspond-
ingly, baptism, too, is both a one-time historie event as well as an ongoing
process intended to res tore man to his original dignity, to his prelapsarian
state as Adam. The act of inscription symbolized and made vivid the act of
the fusion of two incommensurable notions: an inscription, to~, is the act of
a moment yet at the same time a la langue dude. Christ's Incarnation is thus
for Gregory the model event through which the underlying Platonic struc-
ture is personalized and transcended.
As mentioned above, Gregory's concept of baptism as the actualization of
the Incarnation was highly controversial, not least because it was an inno-
vation. But before plunging more deeply into Gregory's texts describing
baptism and illumination, and before attempting to reconstruct some of the
context that apparently prompted hirn to "divulge as much ab out our mys-
teries as is not forbidden to the ears of the many" (Or. 4-45), let me step
back to discuss briefly notions of "conversion" and "inscriptions" and their
relevance to Gregory's orations on baptism.
CONVERSIONS AND INSCRIPTIONS:

INSCRIPTION AS (TRANS)FORMATION
"By conversion we me an the reorientation of the soul of an individual, his

deliberate turning from indifference or from an earlier form of piety to
another, a turning which implies a consciousness that a great change is
involved, that the old was wrong and the new is right."17 Arthur Derby
Nock's classic definition, formulated in 1933, is still the paradigmatic un-
derstanding of "conversion." Though informed by a number of pre-Chris-
tian sourees, primarily relating to the so-called mystery cults (Isis, Attis and
Cybele, Mithras), Nock's definition of conversion as a dramatic turning
point is most strongly indebted to the two paradigmatic sources tradition-
ally called upon to support the notion of conversion as decisive turning
point, that of Luke in the Acts of the Apostles describing the "conversion"
of Paul and, more importantly, Augustine's later adaptation of the Lukan
Paul-motive in his own conversion narrative, the Confessions. 18 However, as
Peter Brown has recently demonstrated, Nock's concept of conversion as a
dramatic moment of recognition in which the old darkness is consciously
rejected in favor of the new light, owes more to Nock's own Sitz im Leben,
namely his own historiographie position vis-a-vis David Hume, Max We-
ber, and William James, than to the actual Christian sources. 19 As shown by
recent studies, in particular those of Peter Brown, Paula Fredriksen, and
Karl Morrison, the Lukan narrative of Paul's conversion and Augustine's
Confessions stress instead notions of process. 20 According to Morrison, Au-
gustine used the term "conversion" (conversio) sparingly in his Confessions, "to
denote a sequence of action and response . . . at times stretched out over
years." He argued that for Augustine conversion signified "the unfolding of
a supernatural process, initiated and sustained by God ... and distinct from
its formal signs . (which include baptism). "21 In fact, much the same is
true for Gregory of Nazianzus. In his writings, too, the most important
aspect of "conversion" is that of a process. Gregory, however, signaled the
"initiation" of that "process" through language that relates only tangential-
ly to scriptural precepts. Illumination does not occur through the Lukan
flash of light, nor does he stress the concept of rebirth. 22 His signifiers are
the entire concept of inscription and imprint. On first glance, this might
seem astrange choice since inscriptions appear by their very nature to
represent the opposite of change: fixation, status qua, and stability. However,
"writing" and "inscribing" does precisely what Gregory,-peeded it to dO. 23
An inscription marked a historically specific moment, that of writing some-
thing into stone, a tablet, a forehead, or a soul with the intention of making
the writing known and last, ideally, for eternity.24 Inscriptions are exceed-
ingly important sources for the study of the ancient world. Not only are
they, together with visual remains such as sarcophagi and portraits, virtual-
ly the only nonliterary indicators of the way in wh ich individuals sought to
present themselves, but, more importantly, they were the most ubiquitous
me ans of communication available for a fairly broad spectrum of society
(even though the elite produced the lion's share).25 Inscriptions took shape
and appear in numerous different settings and for a wide variety of purpos-
es, ranging from the individual to the imperial. Given the broad spectrum
of the material, the following is a rather condensed overview, seeking pri-
marily to illustrate the weight and density of connotation of words such as
"inscribing," "writing," "impressing," "marking," as well as those that de-
noted the surfaces upon which these operations were performed.
Prominent among inscriptions of private individuals were epitaphs, which
declared to the immediate community how a person defined himself or
herself, and how he or she wished to order posterity. Therefore, they em-
ployed well-regulated sets of standard formulae assembled and reassembled
with relatively few but revealing variations. 26 Most epitaphs recorded a
person's genealogy, family status (number of children, slaves, etc.), educa-
tion, public offices held, acts of benevolence performed, and so on. 27 They
also sought to order posterity in a number of different ways, most frequent-
ly by exhorting the reader to preserve the inscription-stressing that in-
scriptions and tombstones (anlAut) will last long after the corpse itself has
gone 28-and by appealing to the gods to ensure the longevity of the inscrip-
tion by punishing all who dare to modify or destroy it. 29 The frequency of
these exhortations suggests that the authors of these inscriptions hoped for
lasting memorials, but were all too aware of the fact that even things
written in stone could be altered and destroyed. By erasing a small part, the
content could become an entirely different one, even though much of the
general structure remained the same. Equally to the point, a clean slate was
preferable, but a palimpsest could also do; a modified writing was as effec-
tive as one that had been carved into a completely new surface.
A second kind of inscriptions placed on public buildings, including stat-
ues and temples, proclaimed both the virtues of the donor as weIl as that of
the city, deity, or community in whose honor the building was erected.
Such inscriptions heralded the ways in which a public person represented
her social status within a community. Shrines and temples carried, further-
more, personal inscriptions honoring the divinity, begging for eures, and
thanking the divinity for favors rendered; wealthy persons might even write
entire odes to a god on stone slabs affixed to shrines (or the walls of their
own house).30 An entire class of inscriptions publicized rrespasses. against
the gods and begged for forgiveness. Such "confession" inscriptions list
cases of perjury; stealing from the sanctuary and its estate; masturbating
while on the premises; visiting the temple in rags or in astate of defile-
ment, and so on. They also "confess" failure to "write down" (Ka'ta'Ypa~Elv)
or enroll slaves into the sanctuary's roster, that is, to actually deliver to the
sanctuary, and hence to the god, a slave dedicated/recruited to his service as
hierodottlos. 31
Writings to the gods were also inscribed on other, less durable materials.
Papyrus slips (libelli) and lead, wooden, and wax tablets were inscribed with
oaths, curses, and countercurses (tabttlae defixionttm)J magie formulae, and
pleas to the god, whereby the act of writing itself was part of the ritual and
its powerY The sanctuaries, of course, wrote back: long inscriptions list, for
example, how one ought to approach the shrines, what one was expected to
do there, and how much the sanctuary's services would cost. 33
Another type of private inscriptions on buildings, particularly on baths
and gymnasia, were graffiti, doing much the same then as today: Glaukos
was here; Lucius loves Aurelia; x proposes to do y to a certain slave boy;
prostitute so and so is fabulous; the tavern of x stinks; may the Gods curse
z; long live the gladiator Maximus. 34
However, walls of buildings also displayed the official acts of the city and
the empire. Special walls displayed imperial letters as weIl as imperial
edicts, both of which had, by the fourth century, the force of law. In rela-
tively rare cases such laws were engraved in bronze. The inscription of
official documents into bronze tablets (MA:tOl, cr't1lAat, in aes incisa) and their
display were of fundamental imperial and religious significance. 35 Rather
than providing the master copy of special laws, as scholars have long as-
sumed, it is now clear that the primary function of bronze tablets was their
visual-religious impact. Polished and gleaming, affixed to temple walls,
bronze tables suggested the eternity (aes perennittm) both of the laws and the
Roman Empire. The tablets themselves were considered sacrosanct, objects

belonging to and protected by the gods, and they "create symbolic displays
of Roman law and government, ... of Roman presence" wherever they were
displayed. Conversely, they also advertised a city's special relationship with
the imperial power. 36 Thus, official documents inscribed in bronze tablets or
stelai were primarily treatises, diplomas of military discharge, registers of
citizenship, privileges such as exemptions from compulsory public services,
and honors granted. Also inscribed (steliteuein) were persons who had fled
capital punishment, and who were thus marked and shamed forever and for
all to see as if they were present. 37
Such bronze tablets also contained some of the most crucial inscriptions
of the late antique world, those by which all inhabitants were "inscribed"
into their social status, and thus their very humanitas. 38 Inscription into the
census list or roster of citizenship (politographos) , regulated by many of the
laws inscribed into bronze tablets, not only defined a person's status but
also that of his offspring in subsequent generations, and this (hereditary)
status, the precise place inscribed into the roster, governed virtually every
aspect of a person's life. It determined fiscal and other obligations; taxation
levels; professions; whom one was permitted to marry; access to privileges;
levels and kinds of punishment; whether a person was "worthy," "worthier,"
or "truly worthy," or not worthy of participation in society at all as a debtor,
freedman, foreigner, or infamous person, or stood outside humanity entirely
as a slave. 39 Thus inscribed into bronze, stone, or wooden tablets, all inhab-
itants of the Roman Empire were ordered in a finely tuned hierarchy, and
the difference between a worthy person and an infamous one was conceived
and represented as being as irreducible as, for example, the nineteenth-
century category of race. Accordingly, laws also required all persons to
inscribe their outward appearance in a manner consistent with their status,
so that their bodies and physical appearance maintained and enhanced the
social order and the prosperity of the imperial realm. 40 This was done through
habitus acquired from birth, through dress, hair style, speaking voice, and
gestures. But in particular, with those persons who belonged to parts of
society where social mobility was subject to especially stringent mecha-
nisms of control, social status was also inscribed into the person himself:
slaves, soldiers, gladiators, prostitutes, and other stage performers were fre-
quently tattooed or branded with symbols of their status. 41
Laws and imperial edicts, especially when written in bronze, were thus
inscriptions prescribing and enforcing a social status quo, seemingly for
eternity. By the same token, they were immensely powerful agents of change.
With one imperial edict or letter, the emperor could overwrite what had
been written into bronze or stone. A person's lifelong and hereditary
INSCRIPTIONS AND CONVERSIONS I I
inscription into one social place could oe instantly modified, with conse-
quences affecting himself, subsequent generations, and the entire hierarchi-
cal construct of later Roman society. Citizenship could be granted, obligations
removed, infamy eradicated, and, of course, the reverse could also take
place.
Thus, it is not surprising that the publication of "imperial writings"
(UO"tA1K<l ypaflflu-ra) executed in "celestialletters,"42 whether written in stone
or bronze, or-as was usually the case-on less durable materials, such as
wax or wooden tablets, or papyrus, and sealed with the imperial seal, was an
awe-inspiring act. "A king sent out his order to a city. What did the people
in the city do? They rose to their feet, uncovered their heads and read it in
awe, fear, trembling, and trepidation."43 Another description from John
Chrysostom paints a similar scene: "A profound silence reigns when those
letters are read. There is not the slightest noise; everyone listens most
attentively to the orders contained in them. Whoever makes the slightest
noise, thereby interrupting the reading, runs the greatest danger."44 Again,
just as the bronze tablets embodied the presence of Rome, so, too, did the
imperial letters and edicts. Embraced and kissed upon their arrival,45 they
embodied the emperor's sacred person. When his edicts were thus pro-
claimed, it was the emperor who spoke, lectured, responded, exhorted,
ordered, and alte red, and who was present in person. To interrupt such a
proclamation, to modify or destroy such a writing, was to do harm to the
imperial person, a near unthinkable act of sacrilege. 46
Which does not me an that such things did not happen. An uprising or
stasis frequently began with the tearing down of imperial acts, and less
dramatic acts of registering discontent were the norm. 47 Aside from writ-
ings directed to the emperor containing petitions, questions, and the like
(libelli), citizens also "posted" their opinions about emperors (and each oth-
er) in the form of pamphlets (libelli /amosi, programmata), lampoons, and
posters on the same surfaces that carried imperial letters and edicts. Such
programmata "pasted up on walls" chastised the beaten emperor Jovian upon
his return from a disastrous Persian campaign in 363; accused emperors of
being usurpers; slandered widows; or informed the citizens of Damascus, by
order of the emperor, that some of their prostitutes were Christian. 48
Also illuminating in our context are the exchanges between the emperor
Julian and some of his subjects. A self-declared philosopher king, Julian
chose to chastise his subjects through elaborate speeches and philosophical
treatises, posted onto pillars (stelai) just like his imperial letters and edicts
and of no less momentous impact. 49 One of these letters prohibited teachers
who were Christian to instruct students in the time-honored subjects and
methods' of classical paideia. 50 One of those affected by this law was Gregory
I2 SEEING AND BELIEVING
of Nazianzus, and he responded in kind. After Julian's death, he composed

two invectives that have shaped Julian's image to this day. Significant for
our context is the Greek term Gregory used in the conduding paragraph to
characterize his invective: it was astelographia (O"'t1lA.oypa<l>ia, rather than a
'V0yo<;, the traditional term denoting an invective), a writing onto a stele
through which Gregory inscribed Julian as a criminal, in public view for all
eternity: "Here is a pillar (stele) for you from me, higher and more visible
than the Pillars (stelai) of Herades ... which will inevitably become known
everywhere by everyone as it (contrary to Herades' stelai} moves about ...
pillaring/pillorying (O"'t1lA.t'teuetV) you and your deeds; and alerting all men
not to have the audacity to ferment such arevolt (stasis) against God for fear
of exposing themselves to this same punishment by committing such a
crime."51
Much more could be said concerning the exchange of philosophical trea-
tises and invectives, but with this we have arrived at yet another central set
of meanings associated with writing, namely those derived from the context
of pedagogy: schooling, education, philosophy, and intellectual-personal
formation. Here, to~, we find the same complex array of meanings touched
upon in the public and private writings on stone and bronze mentioned
above: religious, sacred, lang duration, commemorative, capable of forming
and inscribing individuals as well as communities seemingly forever, and,
therefore, at the same time possessing the power of instant transformation.
"The enduring legacy of Roman education is not the seven liberal arts
... but ahabit of mind and training-the insistence that texts and tests,
through competitive displays of reading, writing and reciting, are essential
to the socialization of the young"-the young of the elite, that iS. 52 Essen-
tial for this conceptualization of "writing" were two related aspects, namely
the link between writing and memory and the assumption that the act of
writing was itself transformative. 53 "When first the child puts pen to paper
or stylus to wax, he practices a kind of social distinction. He writes himself
into one dass. "54 But he could only do so because underlying cosmological
and anthropological notions held that the human being, especially its sen-
tient parts or its soul, was like a wax tablet into which social dass, ethics,
morals, and their external manifestation were inscribed with each inter-
linked act of thought, speech, and writing, and thus the whole person
formed. 55
The formation of the self and its place in the social order through writing
and memory began early, with the so-called hermenettmata, bilingual memo-
rization exercises in which schoolboys wrote and then recited their day,
beginning with orders to their slaves, greetings of others in hierarchical
order, lists of gods and of distinguished teachers-each act of writing and
its correction reifying the social order. 56 The more advanced the student, the
stronger the formative power of written and recited words. Once a student
advanced to higher education under a rhetor, he took on the speaking role
of his father, the paterfamilias, in sets of exercises called "declamations."57
Such an assumption of an adult persona lfictio personae, 1tP0O"co1to1totla) was
more than "theater." In taking on his father's role, the son became, through
mimesis, the father. Moreover, through his writings and his speech, he gave
voice to all those who were dependent on his father and thus had to seek
advocacy through his voice. 58 By being a paterfamilias, that is, his father, the
son refracted as through a prism the community of all those who depended
on hirn and whose well-being was determined by his prowess as writer and
speaker in competition with others. Thus, the son was trained- to speak in
the voice and with the emotions of his father as weH as that of his father's
dependents. He learned to speak as them and for them through the "repre-
sentation of character" (~e01tot"ta) of a woman (not a person under the law);59
of a soldier who had deserted; of a prostitute who wanted to be a priestess;
of a freedman seeking to marry a person above his status, etc. Thus, through
such performative acts of speech, the son not only spoke in his master's
voice while also acting the master, he gave at the same time voice (through
the master's voice and it alone) to his (father's) subordinates.
Most members of the elite governing the later Roman empire had re-
ceived such declamatory training in advocacy. Underscoring the necessity
for such training were notions of the powerful efficacy of the spoken and
written word. Both were tremendously formative acts, reifying at the same
time the authority and the transformative powers of the person performing
them, be he the governor or the teacher (paidaggos). Thus, to have a voicel
word was the equivalent of existing as a social being; without voice/word
there was no social existence. But before returning to a discussion of Gre-
gory of Nazianzus's use of the vocabulary of inscription in light of the
above, one further context needs to be mentioned, which linked the philo-
sophical-pedagogic aspects of "writing" directly with the cosmological realm:
astrology.
Fundamental to most ancient concepts of astrology was the notion that
the stars were alive, divine (or at least part of a sphere just beneath that of
the gods), and of the same essence (ether) as the human soul, which they
guided according to divine precepts. 60 Therefore, so a central tenet, the fate
of each individual was determined by the precise location of the stars at the
moment of birth, so that individuals required as a consequence interpreta-
tion and guidance through the wisdom of astrologers. Such implicitly fatal-
istic interpretations of the relationship between the stars and human destiny
also found their opponents, most notably among the followers of Carneades,
who argued instead that astral figuration did not predestine human fate.
The stars did not produce (poiein) human fate; they were merely its indica-
tors (semaiein); thus, the human soul retained free will and hence moral
judgment. 61 Such antifatalistic arguments did not have to deny the value of
astrology, however. Plotinus, for example, conceded that astrologers could
read the stars. This was so because according to Plotinus "the stars were like
letters which are written in each instance into the sky, or rather letters
written once for all time which move; . . . they also have the power to
signify."62 Origen argued likewise. For hirn, too, the stars were letters,
written into a heavenly book. 63 Yet while those capable of reading these
letters and hence the human fate they indicated correctly were human for
Plotinus, Origen accorded that faculty solely to God. In both cases, the
comparison of the stars to heavenly letters was a new element. In Origen's
case, the comparison was all the more relevant for our subject, because of
long-standing Jewish-Christian notions according to which good as well as
evil deeds were recorded into a heavenly book of "deeds" or "works." Good
deeds could, so Paul in Col. 2: I 2- I 5, erase bad ones as if a debt (XEtPOypa<j>ov)
had been canceled. Those whose debts of bad deeds had been erased through
good works would be inscribed into the roster of heavenly citizenship. For
many ancient authors, baptism was the equivalent of such an enrollment
because it erased prior debt by concluding a new contract. 64 Ir rewrote the
heavenly letters and their notations; that is, it changed what the stars
signified. With this, it is time to address Gregory and his writings on
baptism in greater detail.
GREGORY OF NAZIANZUS ON BAPTISM
I ncarnation
"Christ is born, give praise, Christ has come from the heavens, go out to
meet hirn, Christ is on earth, lift yourselves upward"-thus Gregory's open-
ing, and the theme of Oration 38. The divine had become human, the
Word flesh, and this event required the most exalted celebration. Such a
celebration could not replicate the "material feast" as performed by "the
Greeks." Instead, the celebration of the Word required words, and naturally,
the most appropriately festive words were those of Gregory (Or. 38-4-6).
Since the sermon was about the Logos it was according to Gregory about
God. Indeed, most of the remainder of Oration 38 is devoted, first, to
Gregory's interpretation of the nature of the divinity (theologia) , and, sec-
ondly and in even greater detail, to the interaction of the divine with its
opposite, the cosmos and man (oikonomia). The unfolding and expansion of
the divine and, most importantly, the mystery of its mixture with things
"entirely alien to its nature" (Or. 38.10) occupy the lion's share of Oration
38. Thus, Gregory opens the entire cycle of his three orations on the Nativ-
ity, Illumination, and Baptism with his exposition and exegesis of Plato's
cosmology through Genesis and Luke's account of the Nativity.65
Gregory begins by stating that "God is," i.e., that "he possesses being
without beginning and end, like an ocean of being" (Or. 38.7).66 God is
timeless, "without limit and hence difficult to contemplate." This aspect of
the divine alone is easy to grasp for humans, namely that God is timeless
and limitless. However, while this may lead one to believe that God's
nature is therefore simple (a1tA:ilc;) this is not so. According to Gregory,
neither simplicity nor composition completely comprise the nature of the
divine; rather by "saying God, I intend to say Father, Son and Holy Spirit"
(Or. 38.8-9). While the divinity does not extend beyond those three to form
more divine persons, it is neither constricted into a monad nor a construct
of subordinate beings. Instead, it is an infinite cohesion of three limitless
beings (e.g., Or. 39.11; 40-41). However, this cohesion, despite the fact that
the Son has taken his origin from the Father, must not be understood as a
sequence of time or cause. The Son as weIl as the Spirit have "proceeded"
from the Father (E.K1tOpe:UeO"Sm) in seamless expansion. 67 Such a "procession"
leaves the divine "nature" unchanged. All that changed in the resulting
formation of the Son and the Spirit were their properties (iOio'tT\'teC;). Thus,
the Father is the beginning of two other beings, but they are not inferior or
different in nature. The nature of all three remains one and the same, even
if there are three different hypostaseis (Or. 39.11).
Having made that point-which he elaborates further in each of the two
subsequent sermons-Gregory focuses on the manner in which this su-
preme divinity, God, created the universe (Or. 38.9). Not content to con-
template itself the supreme Good, in an act of divine euergetism, expanded
itself. "Thus the second splendors were created, of service to the first." The
creation of the intelligible universe (1C00"110<; VOT\'to<;) led to that of the sensi-
ble one, in part because God wanted "to show not only his own nature, but
also his capacity to create a nature utterly alien to his own" (Or. 38.10). This
moment, according to Gregory, was the first instance of a great fusion of
two incommensurable entities: the mysterious commingling of intelligible
and sensible elements, which led to the creation of the sensible world and
First Man, the "initiate into the visible world." This "visible world" was a
second universe, itself a mixture of invisible and visible natures (Or. 38.11).
At this juncture Gregory commences his exegesis of Genesis, entirely
within the structure of the Platonic cosmology employed so far. "This being
[First Man or the first fusion of two ineommensurables} God plaeed in

Paradise-what was then Paradise." This half-sentenee eomprises the sum
total of Gregory's diseussion of the subjeet of Paradise. Coneomitant with
Plato's master narrative, Gregory eonsidered heaven a "divine sphere," a
state of being rather than a geographie loeation (Gr. 38.12).
First Man thus ereated as the perfeet mixture of divine and sensible
elements was given free will and ageney "so that the good would be the
labor of hirn who ehooses it."68 Choiee implied the possibility of disagree-
ment and disobedienee, whieh led to the Fall and in turn eaused sin. 69
Disobedienee and sin led to a eontinuous decline, and, finally (after some
failed divine attempts at prior warning) to the seeond and even more spee-
taeular fusion of two ineommensurable natures: the Inearnation of the Logos
("the immutable seal, the true imprint of the model") for the salvation of
mankind. "God eame forth with that whieh he has assumed, unique being
out of two opposites: flesh and spirit; one makes divine, the other is made
divine. 0 new mixture! 0 paradoxie al fusion!" (Gr. 38 . 13).
The Inearnation was the eentral event, and, aeeording to Gregory, the
raison d'etre not only for all three sermons but for baptism itself: the
extraordinary mixing, the formation of a unique being out of two opposites,
the paradoxieal fusion of the divine splendid light wirh sensible matter. It
was a historie event that was at the same time of eternal and timeless
signifieanee. lt resulted from a proeess yet was erystallized in amoment;
thus it was also the fusion of moment and proeess, transhistorieal. The
agent that permitted this extraordinary fusion to oeeur was, aeeording the
Gregory, illumination, the theme of Oration 39.
Illumination
Gregory's "terminology of light" was fundamental to his entire eosmologi-
eal eonstruet, going baek to his first orations eomposed in 362/363.70 Ae-
eordingly, "God is the supreme light inaeeessible and unknowable; not
eomprised by the spirit and not expressed by the word. lt [the light} eon-
templates and eomprehends itself' (Gr. 40.5).71 God is the first light, the
angels the seeond, and man the third, aeeording to an eeonomy repeated in
all three sermons. Indeed, "light" (<\lcOe;) , illumination, is Gregory's funda-
mental metaphor in explieating Genesis and Exodus: "The first eommand-
ment given to the first man was also light .... The written law was a <\lcOe;
'tU7tlKOV Kat enJf.!f.!E'tpWV, providing an illusion (O"Kwypa<\lcOv; lit. "painting in
shadows") of the truth and the mystery of the light" (Gr. 40.6). But even
though this divine light is in essenee inaeeessible-sinee it is God-it
nonetheless does not elude man entirely beeause of his original partieipation
in it. 72 In fact, humans are linked to the divine through light, and this link
between man and God (OIlOtrocrtC; 8EOO) finds expression in the sun, indicat-
ing the manner in which man may return to the divine splendor. 73 Provided
the human soul is properly purified, it, to~, may be illuminated. Illumina-
tion therefore requires purification. The higher the degree of purification
the greater that of illumination and the doser the link between man and
the divine. The logical consequence was therefore, according to Gregory,
that illumination is purification and vice versa. They are synonymous. But
Gregory took yet a further step. Illumination (<j>oo'tt0"1l0C;) is not only purifi-
cation, it is also baptism (also <j>oo'tt 0"110 C; , a traditional word denoting bap-
tism).74 Illumination, purification, and baptism were mutual preconditions
as weH as synonyms. 75 God demands purity but also is purity; he demands illumi-
nation and is illumination. 76 Likewise, baptism both demands purification and
illumination (<j>OrttO"Il0C;) and is also both. All three are necessary first conditions
to contemplate the divine; but all three also make such contemplation possible
through their potential to restore man to his original dignity.77
Baptism
Christians, in Gregory's opinion, thus had many reasons to celebrate bap-
tism. It represented their passage from darkness to light, from ignorance to
the knowledge of truth, from paganism to Christianity (Or. 39.3-6), and
was as such a journey between two utterly incommensurable states of being.
More to the point, baptism actualized in each individual the two great
moments of fusion-especially, however, the second great mingling of two
incommensurables, namely the Incarnation. And, like the Incarnation, a
historie event of timeless consequence, baptism, to~, was a moment and a
process, illumination and purification, initiating and manifesting man's
restoration to his original nature, namely his salvation.
Oration 40 begins by resuming the theme with which Oration 39 ended:
it restates the central identity of illumination, purification, and baptism
(Or. 40.5-7). Now, however, Gregory proceeds "to philosophize" about how,
when and by whom baptism, now properly introduced (and hopefully un-
derstood), should be administered and who should receive it. None of these
issues are obvious, not least because "Christ, who gave this gift, is called by
multiple and various names, and so is his gift, baptism" (Or. 40-4).78 Histor-
ically, so Gregory, there were five types of baptism, reflecting the history of
salvation (Or. 39.17). Moses had baptized, but only figuratively (-rU1ttKooc;): in
water, by guiding his people through the Red Sea. J ohn the Baptist had also
baptized, but no longer "in the Jewish manner," solely in water. He had
already adduced a spiritual baptism by demanding metanoia, a "change of
heart and mind," or penitence. Jesus, then, baptized purely in the SpUlt;
"that was perfection." Christ hirns elf received the fourth baptism: the bap-
tism of blood, the baptism of the martyrs. Gregory, "being human and,
therefore, a changeable being of unstable nature," had received baptism in
the fifth manner, namely the baptism "of tears, but it is even harder" (ar.
39.17-18). "I accept this baptism with an open heart, I venerate hirn who
gave it to me, I transmit it to others" (ar. 38.18).
This "baptism of tears" was the baptism for the rest of mankind, and it
is the one Gregory will now transmit to his catechumens. Accordingly, he
devotes the remainder of his-very long-Oration 40 to the precise mech-
anism according to which this "transmission" ought to unfold. Following
Jesus' example, baptism should be administered around the age of thirty,
while one is in the fullness of reason yet has time to lead a life of continuing
purification (ar. 40.29). Therefore, one "should not postpone baptism too
close to death. What kind of dignity is exhibited by a baptism where the
priest has to fight with the physicians and the lawyers at the bedside?" (ar.
4.11).79 Child baptism is permitted, but only if death seems imminent.
Marking the child with the seal of baptism will be its "greatest and most
beautiful talisman (tjroAaK-nlPtoV)" (ar. 4.17, 28).
Of equal significance as the time of baptism were Gregory's following
points. Baptism-Gregory stressed this at least seven times in Oration 40
alone-was not a rite reserved for the elite. lt was also intended and neces-
sary for the poor. 80 Baptism did not require the attendance of family, friends,
and retinue. Nor should one ins ist on being baptized by a metropolitan
bishop, or, failing hirn, at the very least a pneumatikosJ abishop who was not
married (ar. 4.25, 26). Other bishops and priests could also baptize.
This was the case because in baptism "all the old xapaK'tiipe~ (letters or
external markers] disappear. Christ will have been imposed on all in one
form (Ilt~ Iloptjrt\ (ar. 40.27). How did such an erasure and reimpression
occur in practice? In this context, Gregory likened baptism to rebirth. 81
Resorting to Platonic as well as scriptural notions, Gregory identified three
types of the "elect," namely slaves, mercenaries, and sons, allegorically rep-
resented by matter, sense, and intellectllogos (ar. 4.2, 13). Hence, all three
aspects are present in each human being, and all three must be therefore be
re born, that is, purified. Thus, the entire process of baptism required three
stages: one of purification (exorcism and washing); one where that which
had been purified was now "prepared" and protected through anointing and
sealing; and one in which the new "faith" was written onto the surface thus
cleansed and prepared. Expressed through this tripartite preparation was the
dual nature of baptism as purification and illumination-essentially, as stated
above, a single act. Thus, exorcism and washing purified while anointing,
sealing, and especially writing illuminated. Bere, writing should ideally be

performed on a clean slate; yet Gregory's inscriptions were powerful enough
to modify earlier, faulty writings through erasing parts or the whole of old
inscriptions (Gr. 40.2-3, 5-8, 31-38,44-45). Thus, baptism as a tripie yet
single act reenacted and actualized the fusion of two incommensurable na-
tures, and hence the Incarnation.
All acts were powerful. Washing accomplished purification, sealing pro-
tected the newly purified against the continuous and even intensifying
attacks of demons, now homing in on the newly cleaned space with partic-
ular ferocity (Gr. 4.10, 35, 36).82 Yet it also marked the intimacy of fusing
two opposing "essences," the seal and the flesh/soul. Finally, writing contin-
ued this process of fusion, further enhancing it through its transformative
powers. By writing into the catechumen's soul the characters of the formu-
lation of faith, God through Gregory
not only erased the evil, but inscribed the good in its place . . . .
Nothing has as yet been marked (-nJ7tOS) into your soul, neither a good
nor a bad writing (YPu/l/lu'tos). It is today that we must write in you
and impress you ('t'\.)7tcoSilvm) towards perfection. Let us enter ... give
me the tablets of your heart (7tAUKUS 'tfts crils KUp8tuS), I am for you
Moses .... I write into you with the fingers of God a new covenant,
a summary of salvation. . . . I will baptize you in instructing you in
the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost .... If one has
written in you something other than my sermon has set out, come
here, so what has been written in you will be modified. I am not
without talent to write that into you (KUAAtyPU<j>OS); I write what has
been written into me; I teach what has been taught to me from my
youth to my present old age. For me the risk, for me also the reward,
since I am the administrator of your soul (\jfuXilS OiKOVO/lOS), who give
you the perfection through baptism. If you are of the correct disposi-
tion, if it is the good text that is written into you, safeguard that
which has been written and in the middle of changeable circumstanc-
es, keep it unchanged .... Imitate (/lt/lll0-at) but improve upon Pilate
who wrote a defective writing-in you the good has been written-
and say to those who want to change your writing: "That which I
wrote, I wrote Dohn 19:22]." (40.12, 27,44-45)
Written into the tablet of the soul and the memory (like a teacher writing
into those of a pupil), the writing thus made indelible completed the fu-
sion: it signaled the assumption of the new XUPUK'tftp, the new letter of the
one form in Christ.
In Gregory's interpretation, all the "actualizers" or markers of baptism

demanded human choice and agency because they were all part of an ongo-
ing process of purification. Tears had to be shed day and night because
demons and sins did not cease. All thoughts, senses, and limbs had to be
cleansed continually through fasting, vigils, tears, compassion towards the
needy, and the sharing of one's possessions. The "impression" of baptism
aided in maintaining such purity and in its recuperation if lost through
negligence, but daily actualization was called for in order to restore the
purity of the "first birth" (Or. 4.31, 38); good works needed to be accrued
since bad deeds also continued. The "signs" actualized and marked the
potential. They initiated a process of purification, for which the signs and
markers in turn provided support and strength.
Thus, everything formed a coherent whole. The nature of the divine
essence "caused" the "paradoxical" fusion of the divine and the material.
This profound mixture was the Incarnation, which baptism actualized in
each individual, and thus provided the model for and guarantor of salva-
tion-if properly carried out. Thus, baptism was a moment and a process,
where all parts, heaven, earth, change, fusion, inscription, were brought
into a coherent whole: the "now" of baptism was "not a determined mo-
ment, but it is the entirety of the moment that this 'now' indicates" ('I80u
vuv lWtpO<; ... oUX Eva KatpOV, UAAU mlV'ta 'tou "Nuv" 6pi~ov'to<;) (Or. 4.13).
RIVAL COSMOLOGIES, RIVAL BAPTISMS
Why did Gregory feel it necessary to elaborate to such an extent on baptism-

in three sermons, one of which, Oration 40 in its present form as revised for
publication, is Gregory's second longest oration?83 Why reveal these mysteries
to such a degree to uninitiated ears (Or. 40-45)? The reasons are clear.
Gregory's interpretation of baptism was neither the only, nor necessarily the
most widely favored one in Constantinople at the time; in fact, he appears
to have represented the minority opinion. As his own sermons make clear,
there were other ways in which Platonic cosmology could be reinterpreted,
other emphases placed on divine essence and activity, resulting in seemingly
similar but structurally very different ac counts of cosmology, fusion, and
baptism (Or. 4.22, 44; 39.18-19). And these competing interpretations of
all aspects of baptism and its cosmological implications enjoyed great favor,
especially among those who counted and whose favor Gregory, too, had to
win, namely the members of the Constantinopolitan elite. 84
As Gregory hirnself implied, baptism itself, the rite that marked the
"belonging to Christ," was an intensely elite event. Of course, one had to be
INSCRIPTIONS AND CONVERSIONS 2 I
baptized in the presence of one's full retinue by the person who possessed
the highest power and hence could administer the powerful rite of baptism
appropriately without contaminating or, even worse, misdirecting the enor-
mous potency of the act (Or. 40.26). And there were many who presented
themselves as powerful initiators. Thus, according to Gregory, Constantino-
politans preferred to be baptized by a metropolitan (Or. 4.26), 85 or by a
pneumatikos. There were "Arians," "Sabellians," and "Novatians," as weIl as
the "acerbic calculators of the divinity" (Or. 38.14), those who denied the
divinity of the Spirit, those who misunderstood the nature of Christ's fu-
sion, and those who misconstrued baptism's power to purify.86
Behind Gregory's labels and allusions stood influential men. Demophi-
lus, for example, for twenty years the "Arian" bishop of Constantinople, had
only been dispatched to the suburbs on 26 November 380, just a month
prior to the occasion of Gregory's sermons. There he continued to celebrate
Mass. 87 Eunomius, foremost among those whom Gregory described as "cal-
culators of divinity," was at that moment the toast of the town, drawing
crowds including some court eunuchs to his estate in nearby Chalcedon. 88 A
significant number of persons belonging to the creme de la creme of the
Constantinopolitan ascetics denied the divinity of the Spirit, views with an
illustrious pedigree since they continued the tradition of Bishop Macedo-
nius, Demophilus's precursor, and which were supported by men of great
influence at court. 89 These and other prominent ascetics like Isaac, who had
just then been offered housing for himself and his followers on the suburb an
estates of not one but two powerful courtiers, Saturnius and Victor, attract-
ed vast numbers of faithful who sought them out on a daily basis. 90 Each
and every single one of them promoted different interpretations of the
meaning and function of baptism and its theological-cosmological signifi-
cance, and Gregory's concepts had to answer to and win out over each.
The so-called "Novatians," who were very popular among the elite, pre-
ferred baptism late in life, considering it a one-time act of complete puri-
fication. They rejected all notion of penitence, indeed, the possibility of sin
after baptism, and punished the lapsed draconically-in diametric opposi-
tion to Gregory's view of purification as a lifelong process, requiring the
accumulation of "good works" to counteract evil ones even after baptism.
Gregory clearly sought to "convert" "Novatians" to his point of view by
offering them inclusion into his fold without rebaptism. In their case, it
sufficed to "modify what had been written into" them. Indeed, rebaptism
had repeatedly been prohibited by imperial law, but "Novatians" had been
excepted from that stipulation. Their baptism was in essence accepted as
"right"; should they seek to renounce their heresy, a simple anointing suf-
ficed. 91
Controversies regarding the divinity of the Holy Spirit had been on Gre-
gory's mind for quite some time. He had formulated his notion of the divine
essence as one in three partially in response to such doubts, but when he
delivered his orations on baptism the "orthodoxy" of his interpretation was
by no means assured. 92 It would be accepted as such some five months later
at the ecumenical council gathered in Constantinople in May 38 I, but
Gregory's orations delivered in December and J anuary were still "campaign
speeches. "93
In this regard, the fact that many of the city's ascetic stars doubted that
the Spirit was divine presented a true challenge. These star ascetics were
also known as pneumatikoi, "filled with the Spirit," in no small part because
of their life-style, which celebrated charismatic poverty. Therefore, these
men were also known as "the poor." A significant number of these ascetic
"poor" were of the opinion that their daily regime of "tears and groaning,"
combined with fasting and constant prayer, made baptism entirely superflu-
ous since their life of continuous purification provided direct access to the
divine. 94 Given this background, Gregory's insistence that baptism was
necessary for the "poor" takes on a dual meaning. 95 On the one hand,
Gregory certainly sought to emphasize that the transformative powers of
baptism were not reserved for the social elite, but encompassed nearly all
strata on the social scale (he does not mention the infamous).96 Therefore, he
stressed that one should not feel humiliated when baptized next to a vendor,
a debtor, or even a slave: "do not refuse to be baptized with a poor person,
you who are rich, or you the noble with a low-dass person, or you the
master with your own slave" (Or. 4.25, 27). Yet, the kind of transformation
he envisages is not one between social registers; each person is transformed
within his dass, where he becomes perfectible; a shift in "social" inscription
would be miraculous. 97
On the other hand, these remarks polemicized against competing pneuma-
tikoi, "poor" ascetics who deemed baptism superfluous. In addition, Grego-
ry's insistence that Christ took on the form of a slave countered those who
denied the complete mixture of the divine and the human in the Incarna-
tion. In fact, according to Gregory, wrong teachings regarding the Incarna-
tion, in particular the relationship between Father and Son and the latter's
mixture with the human, that is, the "fusion of two paradoxa," abounded.
The "Sabellians" erred because they unduly reduced Father and Son into one
("like the Jews"). Others separated them too rigidly, thus introducing sub-
ordination ("Arians") or, even worse, a multiplicity of divinities ("pagan-
ism"). Yet others denied Christ's complete mixture with the humble aspects
of mankind ("Apollinarists") (Or. 38.8, 14-15; 39.12; 4.11,20-21).98
The consequences of such different notions of baptism become perhaps

most clearly apparent in the thought of Eunomius. Eunomius and a signif-
icant proportion ofEastern Christians propagated a baptism neither in Christ's
Incarnation, as proposed by Gregory, nor in his Resurrection, but "into the
death of Christ. "99 Eunomius's interpretation of divine essence and agency,
prompted by a different understanding of Aristotelian language theory, led
hirn to formulate a seemingly similar, yet structurally very different Chris-
tian exegesis of Platonic cosmology.loo Following Aristotle's dictum that
"essence does not admit of degree," Eunomius explained the relationship
between Father and Son as one of difference in essence. lOl Thus, he main-
tained that God was not boundless despite being immaterial and hence
without spatial limits, since essences in the infinite chain of being are
differentiated by their nature--an understanding diametrically opposed to
Gregory's concept of the procession of the divine essence, which resulted in
the hypostasis of the Son and the Spirit. 102
Such epistemological differences had cosmological implications. Because,
according to Eunomius, essence implied difference, Son and Father differed.
In order for the Son to become incarnate, God had to grant an alteration of
essence, a dispensation, which made the Son into a "Iesser" divinity. In
Demophilus's words, the divine could only come in contact with created
matter "as the servant of the intention of theFather." Otherwise, the creat-
ed would have dissolved upon impact with the divine "like a crate of milk
dispersed into the ocean."103 For Eunomius, the Incarnation itself was proof
of the Son's essential inferiority. In his view, the Son began his saving
journey at the Father's throne, carried it through the history of Israel,
achieved genuine incarnation (without the mixing in of a soul), and then
ascended to return. 104 The initial difference in the understanding of cosmol-
ogy led to a difference in its personalization in Christ in the Incarnation. Ir
is against these notions that Gregory developed his own, opposing concept
of complete fusion.
Eunomius's popularity among the classically trained elite of Constantino-
pIe is easily explained when one considers that he maintained the inherent
difference between the divine and the material in his interpretation of the
incarnate Christ. After all, the inherent inferiority of matter implicit in his
cosmology was much more in accord with traditional Neo-Platonic cosmol-
ogies, no friends of matter. Indeed, Gregory, too, was fully aware of the fact
that matter was the complete opposite of all that is divine, and he knew
that the idea of divine essence merging with matter was "laughable to the
Greeks" (Or. 38.2). For hirn, however, this was precisely the precondition
making the Incarnation so powerful: this was the paradox of the fusion. But
SEEING AND BELIEVING
where he plunged ahead and affirmed full mixture, thereby granting human
matter the possibility of salvation, others like Eunomius considered such
thinking dangerously reckless. 105
Baptism, of course, reflected these underlying differences, as shown by
the following quote from the Apostolic Constitutions, edited in a Eunomian
milieu: "Baptism, after all , is administered into the Son's death: the water
is instead of burial, the seal instead of the Cross; the chrism is the confir-
rnation of the confession. The Father is mentioned because he is the source
and the sender, the Spirit is included because he is the witness. The immer-
sion is the dying with Christ, the ascent the rising with hirn. "106
Hence Gregory's expense of time and effort in demonstrating that bap-
tism is both moment and process, actualization of a perfect fusion yet
requiring continuous purification, application of a seal on a cleansed slate
yet also an inscription that can be modified. Baptism was the initiation into
a mystery, and Gregory needed to establish hirns elf as mystaggos and pneu-
matikos, as one who possessed the power to transform. He could write,
inscribe, stamp, impress, and remodel correctly, since the appropriate words
had been written into hirn. Hence, his constant re course to his exegesis of
the most powerful cosmologies of the day, Plato through Scripture, and his
virtuoso mixing of these two worlds. Because Gregory demonstrably under-
stood the mysterious nature (physis) of the divine as perfectly as anyone and
could prove such perfect understanding through his own physis as a xenos, a
poor person, an ascetic-looking countryman without a court (Or. 38.6), he
could administer the appropriate form of illumination and initiate correctly
into the mystery of baptism. Because he understood cosmology correctly he
could align those into whose souls he wrote the words of the baptismal faith
correctly within that cosmology. Moreover, he could overwrite the false
inscriptions of others, an awesome power because it realigned the "letters in
heaven," the writings in the heavenly books. Such writing signified a shift
in cosmological affiliation, a shift that guaranteed salvation. Hence, by
initiating a process of cosmological realignment, Gregory's baptism illumi-
nated by "converting" those thus inscribed towards God. But such conver-
sion did not occur in a flash of light; on the contrary, it required lifelong
purification. Baptism added the baptized into the citizenship of heaven, but
as for any good citizen, the demand for good works continued. Otherwise,
the entire economy of salvation was disrupted. Thus, while interesting for
modern scholars studying notions of conversion, these concerns were vital
for Gregory as bishop of Constantinople. And he proved persuasive. On 10
January 381,17 Theodosius issued a law banning the heretical teachings of
the "Arians" and the "Eunomians," but not those of the "Novatians."
NOTES
I. Still best encapsulated in the definition given by Arthur Derby Nock,

Conversion: The Old and the New Religion /rom Alexander the Great to Augustine
0/ Hippo (London, 1933), pp. 7, and 2-3.
2. For a detailed discussion of post-Enlightenment concepts of conver-
sion see David Murray, "Object Lessons: Fetishism and the Hierarchies of
Race and Religion," in Conversion: Old Worlds and New, ed. Kenneth Mills
and Anthony Grafton (Rochester, N.Y, forthcoming).
3. Polymnia Athanassiadi and Michael Frede, eds., Pagan Monotheism in
Late Antiquity (Oxford, 1999), p. 19.
4. For more detail see my forthcoming book on Gregory of Nazianzus.
5. The date is controversial. Earlier scholarship favored 379/380, i.e.,
prior to Gregory's nomination as bishop, but the more recent consensus is
380/381. Claudio Moreschini, ed., Paul Gallay, tr., Gregoire de Nazianze,
Discours 38-4I, Sources Chretiennes 358 (Paris, 1990), pp. 16-22.
6. For specifics of the following, including bibliography, see Susanna
Elm, "A Programmatic Life: Gregory of Nazianzus' Orations 42 and 43 and
the Constantinopolitan Elites," Arethusa 33 (2000): 411-27.
7. John F. Matthews, Western Aristocracies and the Imperial Court, A.D.
364-425 (Oxford, 1975), pp. 120-24; Neil McLynn, "Theodosius, Spain,
and the Nicene Faith," in Congreso Internacional La Hispania di Teodosio I
(Segovia, 1997), pp. 17 1-7 8 .
8. Apparently two separate days of celebration emerged in Constantino-
pIe around 380. The earlier one was dedicated to the birth of Christ and the
adoration of the Magi, and was perhaps celebrated on 25 December (evoked
in Gregory's 01. 38); and the second, later one was dedicated to Christ's
Epiphany and Baptism, celebrated on 6 January. This day would have occa-
sioned 01. 39 and 40. Moreschini, Discours 38-4I, pp. 11-17; Jean Mossay,
Les /etes de NOel et d'Epiphanie d'apres les sources litteraires cappadociennes du IVe
siede (Louvain, 1965), p. 34; Jean Bernardi, La predication des peres cappa-
dociens (Paris, 1968), p. 205; Hermann Usener, Religionsgeschichtliche Untersu-
chungen, vol. I: Das Weihnachtsfest, 2d. ed. (Bonn, 191 I), pp. 260-69.
9. Geoffrey William Hugo Lampe, The Seal 0/ the Spirit: A Study in the
Doctrine 0/ Baptism and Con/irmation in the New Testament and the Fathers
(London, 1967), pp. 149-90, 237-46, 249-57; Victor Saxer, Les rites de
l'initiation chretienne du IIe au VIe siede: Esquisse historique et signi/ication d'apres
leurs principaux temoins (Spoleto, 1988), pp. 297-332.
10. Representative is, for example, the study by Hugh M. Riley, Chris-
tian Initiation: A Comparative Study 0/ the Interpretation 0/ the Baptismal Liturgy
in the Mystagogical Writings 0/ Cyril 0/ Jerttsalem, John Chrysostom, Theodore 0/

Mopsttestia, and Ambrose 0/ Milan (Washington, D.C., 1974), who omits
Gregory entirely. For historiographie reasons why so many authors on the
subjecr of baptism skip Gregory's Oration 40 altogether, see Elm, "A Pro-
grammatie Life," pp. 411-15.
Ir. Everett Ferguson, ed., Conversion, Catechttmenate, and Baptism in the
Early Chttrch (New York, 1993); Michel Dujarier, A History 0/ the Catechtt-
menate: The First Six Centttries, tr. Edward Haasl (New York, 1979), pp. 64-
12 7.
12. Gabriele Winkler's study, Das armenische Initiationsritttale: Entwick-
lttngsgeschichtliche ttnd litttrgievergleichende U ntersttchungen der Quellen des 3. bis
IO. Jahrhunderts, Orientalia Christiana Analeeta 217 (Rome, 1982), is still
fundamental, esp. pp. 100-175.
13. See the overview and eritieal remarks of Paul F. Bradshaw, The Search
tor the Origins 0/ Christian Worship: Sources and Methods tor the Study 0/ Early
Liturgy (New York, 1992), pp. 161-74, 202-4.
14. For the use of the term metanoia to deseribe eonversion see Riehard
Lim, "Converting the Unehristianizable: the Baptism of Stage Performers in
Late Antiquity," in this volume.
15. Kpacru; and I-~l<; are originally Stoie notions. Orig. De Princ. 2.6.3;
Heinz Althaus, Die Heilslehre des heiligen Gregors von Nazianz (Mnster, 1972),
pp. 57-60 .
16. These issues were also debated in non-Christian Platonie theurgie
eircles, e.g. those of Plotinus and Iambliehus; see John F. Finamore, "Ploti-
nus and Iambliehus on Magie and Theurgy," Dionysitts 17 (1999): 83-94;
Sarah Iles Johnston, "Rising to the Oeeasion: Theurgieal Aseent in its Cul-
tural Milieu," in Envisioning Magic: A Princeton Seminar and Symposium, ed.
Peter Schfer and Hans G. Kippenberg (Leiden, 1997), pp. 165-94; and
espeeially eadem, "Fiat Lux, fiat ritus: Divine Light and the Late Antique
Defense of Ritual" (fortheoming). For Platonie illumination language see
also John F. Finamore, "Iambliehus on Light and the Transparent," in The
Divine lamblichus. ed. Henry J. Blumenthal and E. G. Clark (London, 1993),
pp. 55-6 4.
17. Nock, Conversion, pp. 7, and 2-3. I explore the eoneepts of eonseious
ehoiee and internal change assoeiated wirh "Noekian" notions of eonversion
further in "Inseriptions: Marking the Self in Late Antiquity," in Stigmata:
Kiirperinschri/ten, ed. Bettine Menken and Barbara Vinken (Weimar,
200 3).
18. "Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in ehambering and wanton-
ness, not in eontention and envy; but put ye on the Lord J esus Christ . . .
I had no wish to read any further, and no need. For in that instanee, with
the veryending of the sentence, it was as though a light of utter confidence

shone in all my heart, and all the darkness of uncertainty vanished away"
(Con! 8.12.29).
19. Peter Brown, "Conversion and Christianization in Late Antiquity:
The Case of Augustine," in The Challenge 0/ New Historiographies in Late
Antiquity, ed. Richard Lim and Carole Straw (Berkeley, Calif., forthcoming),
pp. 1-5. I cite from the Davis Center manuscript.
20. Paula Fredricksen, "Paul and Augustine: Conversion Narratives, Or-
thodox Traditions, and the Retrospective Self," Journal 0/ Theological Stttdies
37 (1986): 3-34; Karl Frederick Morrison, Understanding Conversion (Char-
lottesville, Va., 1992), pp. 4-27. Peter Brown, Augustine 0/ Hippo: A Biog-
raphy (Berkeley, Calif., 1967), p. 113, had already described Augustine's
conversion as "an astonishingly tranquil process," a crisis of will rather than
a flash of insight. See now his reedition with a new epilogue (Berkeley,
Calif., 2000).
21. Karl Frederick Morrison, Conversion and Text: The Cases 0/ Augustine 0/
Hippo, Herman-Judah, and Constantine Tsatsos (Charlottesville, Va., 1992), pp.
viii-x. For a social scientist's view of early Christian conversion as process,
heavily influenced by Shaye Cohen's work, see Nicholas H. Taylor, "The
Social Nature of Conversion in the Early Christian World," in Modelling
Early Christianity: Social-Scientific Studies 0/ the New Testament in Its Context,
ed. Philip F. Esler (London, 1995), pp. 128-36.
22. Though Pauline baptismal language is of course present, Gregory
does not make frequent use of it. See Riley, Christian Initiation, pp. 266-79,
283-324, for other roughly contemporary authors; Saxer, Les Rites, pp. 304-
8, 316-28, begins his section on Gregory by stating that he considered
baptism a spiritual rebirth, but does not adduce citations supporting that
statement. For a different context, within which such language is avoided,
see Elaine Pagels, "Ritual in the Gospel 0/ Phillip," in The Nag Hatnmadi
Library after Fifty Years: Proceedings 0/ the I995 Society 0/ Biblical Literature
Commemoration, ed. John D. Turner and Anne McGuire (Leiden, 1997), pp.
280-91.
23. Morrison, Understanding Conversion, pp. 1-27, on conversion and met-
aphor.
24. Susanna Elm, "'Sklave Gottes': Stigmata, Bischfe und anti-hre-
tische Propaganda im vierten Jahrhundert n. C.," Historische Anthropologie 8
(1999): 345-6 3.
2 5. One form of inscription not discussed here was those on coins, the
preserve of civic authorities 'and the emperors.
26. For example, "Five daughters and five sons did Bio bear to Didymon,
but she got no joy from one of either. Bio herself, so excellent a mother of
such fine babes, was not buried by her children, but by strange hands" (Ant.
Gr. 7A84). Elizabeth A. Meyer, "Explaining the Epigraphic Habit in the
Roman Empire: The Evidence of Epitaphs," Journal of Roman Studies 80
(1990): 74-96; Cf. John Ma, "The Epigraphy of Hellenistic Asia Minor,"
American Journal of Archaeology 104 (2000): 95-12 1.
27. William V Harris, Ancient Literacy (Cambridge, Mass., 1989), pp.
221-22.
28. "The tomb is that of Samian Philaenis; but be not ashamed, Sir, to
speak to me and to approach the stone," (Ant. Gr. 7:450); "I, the stone
coffin that contain the head of Heraclitus, was once a rounded and unworn
cylinder, but Time has worn me like a shingle" (ibid., p. 479); Helmut
Husle, Das Denkmal als Garant des Nachruhms: Beitrage zur Geschichte und
Thematik eines Motivs in lateinischen Inschriften} Zetemata 75 (Munich, 1980),
pp. 4 1 -91.
29. The literature and body of evidence are vast; I am focusing here on
Asia Minor in late antiquity. Stephen Mitchell, Anatolia: Land} Men} and
Gods in Asia Minor, vol. I (Oxford, 1993), pp. 187-97; A. Hoelder, F.
Pichler, and G. Tempsky, eds., Tituli Asiae Minoris} 5 vols. (Vienna, 1901-
78), 2, nos. 1296, 1299; or the following: "whosoever lays his heavy hands
on this stele, may he leave behind his children as orphans, his wife a widow,
and his household a desert" (TAM I, no. 608); "so that no one offends
against this stele or the memorial, here stands the staff of the god ofAxiotta
and of Anaeitis" (TAM I, no. 172); "we call upon the great divinity that no
one offend against the stele" (TAM I, no. 434). See also J. Strubbe, "Cursed
Be He That Moves My Bones," in Magika Hiera: Ancient Greek Magic and
Religion} ed. Christopher A. Faraone and Dirk Obbink (New York, 1991),
pp. 33-59
30. Mitchell, Anatolia} 1:27-17.
3 I. Georg Petzl} Die Beichtinschriften im rmischen Kleinasien und der From-
me und Gerechte Gott (Opladen, 1998); Susanna Elm, "'Pierced by Bronze
Needles': Anti-Montanist Charges of Ritual Stigmatization in Their Fourth-
Century Context," Journal of Early Christian Studies 4 (1996): 418-20.
32. For example, curses that bind ("weigh down") the victim or dissolve
hirn; see Fritz Graf, Gottesna'he und Schadenzauber: Die Magie in der griechisch-
rmischen Antike (Munich, 1996), pp. 108-83; Augustus Audollent, ed.,
Defixionum tabellae: Quotquot innotuerunt tam in Graecis Orientis quam in totius
Occidentis partibus praeter Atticas in Corpore inscriptionum Atticarum (1904; re-
print ed., Frankfurt/Main, 1967); Harris, Ancient Literacy} pp. 218-19.
33. Hipp. Re! 5.20.5-7; Philostr. V. ApolI. 4.30; M. F. Smith, "Fifty-five
New Fragments of Diogenes of Oenoanda," Anatolian Studies 28 (197 8): 44.
34. Harris, Ancient Literacy! pp. 260-61 ; note his argument that graffiti
need not correlate to low social status.
35. For an overview of the terminology see Alfred Wilhelm, Beitrage zur
griechischen Inschriftenkunde mit einem Anhange ber die ffentliche Au/zeichung
von Urkunden (Vienna, 199), pp. 239-49.
36. Callie Williamson, "Monuments of Bronze: Roman Legal Documents
on Bronze Tablets," Classical Antiquity 6 (1987): 180-81.
37. John F. Matthews, Laying Down the Law: A Study 0/ the Theodosian
Code (New Haven, Conn., 2000), pp. 195-99. For the inscribing of convicts
see PS.-Plut. V decem Gr. 838b; Philo, Quis rer. div. haer 30; Jos. Ant. 16.6.2;
Philochoros! Fr. Gr. Rist. 328 F 134; Iambl. V Pyth. 252. Examples of laws
explicidy cut into bronze include a Constantinian law from 336/337 ex-
empting municipal officeholders from "compulsory services of an inferior
kind"; another one, also from Constantine, exempts officials associated with
the court (palatini) from menial public services; a Valentinian law specified
that those registered as citizens of Rome and therefore entided to free bread
distributions should be engraved and their names displayed at the distribu-
tion site; CTh 12.5. 2 ; 635-4; 14.7.5.
38. Catherine Virlouvet, Tessera /rumentaria: Les procidures de distribution du
bte public a Rome a la /in de la Republique et au dibut de tEmpire (Rome, 1995),
pp. 243-3 08 .
39. The literature on this subject is vast; see e.g. A. H. M. Jones's classic
"The Caste System in the Later Roman Empire," Eirene 6 (1970): 79-96; or
now Peter Garnsey and Caroline Humfress, The Evolution 0/ the Late Antique
World (Cambridge, 2000), pp. 81-103. For a different methodological angle
see Louis Dumont, Homo hierarchicus: An Essay on the Caste System! tr. Mark
Sainsbury (Chicago, 1970).
40. Peter Brown's tide, The Body and Society! really says it all.
41. Elm, "Stigmata/' pp. 345-63; eadem, "Pierced by Bronze Needles,"
pp. 409-39; W. Mark Gustafson, "Inscripta in fronte: Penal Tattooing in Late
Antiquity," Classical Antiquity 16 (1997): 79-105; Constantine Zuckerman,
"The Hapless Recruit Psois and the Mighty Anchorite, Apa John," Bulletin
0/ the American Society 0/ Papyrologists 32 (1995): 183-94, I thank Peter
Brown for the reference to this excellent article.
42. A distinctive type of writing: Matthews, Laying Down the Law! p.
188.
43. R. Isaac, time of Diocletian; Saul Lieberman, "Roman Legal Insdtu-
dons in Early Rabbinics and in the Acta Martyrum!" ] ewish Quarterly Review!
n.s. 35 (1944-45): 6-10.
44. J. Chrys. Homily on Genesis! PG 53:112.
45. Lieberman, "Roman Legal Institutions," p. 8.

46. Matthews, Laying Down the Law, pp. 187-91; Clifford Ando, Imperial
Ideology and Provincial Loyalty in the Roman Empire (Berkeley, Calif., 2000),
pp. 73-117; S. R. F. Price, Rituals and Power. The Roman Imperial Cult in
Asia Minor (Cambridge, 1984), pp. 87-100, and pp. 170-206 on the iden-
tity of imperial image and person; Margareta Benner, The Emperor Says:
Studies in the Rhetorical Style in Edicts 0/ the Early Empire (Gteborg, 1975).
47. Matthews, Laying Down the Law, pp. 188-91.
48. Maud Gleason, "Festive Satire: Julian's Misopogon and the New Year
at Antioch," Journal 0/ Roman Studies 76 (1986): 106-19. Eunap. Frag. 29.1
(Blockley) 401; CTh 9.34.1; Opt. Mil. 1.17 CSEL 26, 19; Bas. Ep. 289; Eus.
HE 9.5.1-2.
49. Gleason, "Festive Satire," pp. 106-19; Jaqueline Long, "Structures of
Irony in Julian's Misopogon," Ancient World 24 (1993): 15-23.
50. Thomas M. Banchieh, "Julian's School Laws: Cod. Theod. 13.3.5 and
Ep. 42," Ancient World 24 (1993): 5- 14.
51. Gr. Naz. Or. 5-42 (Bernardi).
52. W. Martin Bloomer, "Schooling in Persona: Imagination and Subor-
dination in Roman Education," Classical Antiquity 16 (1997): 58.
53. For discussions of memory, writing, magie, and social order see, e.g.,
J acqueline de Romilly, lVIagic and Rhetoric in Ancient Greece (Cambridge,
Mass., 1975), pp. 69-88; Derek Krueger, "Writing and the Liturgy of
Memory in Gregory of Nyssa's Life 0/ Macrina, " Journal 0/ Early Christian
Studies 8 (2000): 483-510; Mary Carruthers, The Cra/t 0/ Thought: Medita-
tion, Rhetoric, and the Making 0/ Images, 400-I200 (New York, 1998). See
also Paul J. Thibault, Re-reading Saussure: The Dynamics 0/ Signs in Social Life
(London, 1997).
54. Bloomer, "Schooling," p. 60.
55. Jocelyn Penny Small, Wax Tablets 0/ the Mind: Cognitive Studies 0/
Memory and Literacy in Classical Antiquity (New York, 1997), pp. 72-159
and passim, combines a discussion of the technical aspects of writing and
archiving and ancient and modern theories of memory. What is true for
words is also true of images. For the Stoic origins of much of this see
Heinrich von Staden, "The Stoic Theory of Perception and its 'Platonic'
Critics," in Studies in Perception: Interrelations in the History 0/ Philosophy and
Science, ed. Peter K. Machamer and Robert G. Turnbull (Columbus, Ohio,
1978), esp. p. 102. See also Catherine Atherton, The Stoics on Ambiguity
(Cambridge, 1993), pp. 39-130, and Franc;ois Refoule, "Reves et vie spiri-
tuelle d'apres Evagre le Pontique," La Vie Spirituelle 14 (1961): 47-516;
Susanna Elm, "Evagrius Ponticus' Sententiae ad Virginem," Dumbarton Oaks
Papers 45 (199 1): 26 5-95.
56. A. C. Dionisotti, "From Ausonius' Schooldays? A Schoolbook and Its

Relations," Journal 0/ Roman Studies 72 (1982): 83-125; Robert A. Kaster,
Guardians 0/ Language: the Grammarian and Society in Late Antiquity (Berke-
ley, Calif., 1988), pp. 77-78.
57. Doreen Innes and Michael Winterbottom, Sopatros the Rhetor: Studies
in the Text 0/ the Diaireseis Zetematon (London, 1988); D. A. Russell, Greek
Declamation (Cambridge, 1983). Most of the few studies on declamations are
based upon the Latin materials, especially Quintilian. Theabove is prima-
rily derived from the Greek, especially from Sopatros, Libanius, and Hime-
rius, contemporaries and teachers.of Gregory ( ibid., pp. 4-9). Also, Catherine
Atherton, ed., Form and Content in Didactic Poetry (Bari, 1998).
58. Pierre Bourdieu's remarks regarding authority are interesting in this
context, esp. Language and Symbolic Power, ed. John B. Thompson, tr. Gino
Raymond and Matthew Adamson (Cambridge, Mass., 1991), pp. 192, 222,
227. Also helpful is Judith Butler, Excitable Speech: A Politics 0/ the Per/orma-
tive (London, 1997), especially her critique of Bourdieu (and Derrida), pp.
141-59. From a different angle (and with a slightly disingenuous title),
George Lakoff and Mark Johnson, Philosophy in the Flesh: The Embodied Mind
and fts Challenge to Western Thought (New York, 1999), pp. 337-414.
59. Bloomer, "Schooling," uses the term "mimicry" to describe this pro-
cess. I think that this term (which in Bloomer's case does not appear to have
been informed by the rich notions of postcolonial theorists such as H.
Bhabha), does not do justice to this phenomenon: the point is precisely that
this is not mimicry or imitation but actually "becoming" the person though
mimesis. See also Susanna Elm, "The Diagnostic Gaze: Gregory of Nazian-
zus' Theory of Orthodox Priesthood in his Orations 6 De Pace and 2 Apolo-
gia de Fuga Sua," in Orthodoxie, christianisme, histoirelOrthodoxy, Christianity,
History, ed. Susanna Elm, Eric Rebillard, and Antonella Romano (Rome,
2000), pp. 83-100.
60. Again, this is a complex topic with a long and varied history within
Greco-Roman philosophy, and its own vast bibliography. Most significant
for the following are Eric Junod, ed. and tr., Origene, Philocalie 2I-27: Sur
le libre arbitre, Sources Chretiennes 226 (Paris, 1976), pp. 24-65; Alan
Scott, Origenes and the Lift 0/ the Stars (Oxford, 1991), pp. 3-62; Leo Koep,
Das himmlische Buch in Antike und Christentum, Theophaneia 8 (Bonn, 1952);
and more generally, Tamsyn S. Barton, Power and Knowledge: Astrology, Phys-
iognomics, and Medicine zmder the Roman Empire (Ann Arbor, Mich., 1994), pp.
27-94
61. Carneades made this argument based on the fact that "barbarians"
had numerous different customs though they were born under the same
astral signs, hence stars were not destiny. Emmanuel Amand de Mendieta,
Fatalisme et liberte dans Fantiquite grecque: Recherehes sur la survivance de

Fargumentation morale anti/ataliste de Carneade chez les philosophes grecs et les
theologiens chdtiens des quatre premiers siecles (Louvain, 1945), pp. 55-71; Jun-
od, Origene, pp. 38, 58-59; Scott, Origen, pp. 76-13.
62. Plot. Enn. 2.3.7,4-6; 3.1.6, 18-2 4.
63. Orig. Philoc. 23.20; Sei. in ps. 68; Junod, Origene, pp. 54-60. For the
widespread notion of the heavenly book, apparently derived from Babylo-
nian sources, see Koep, Das himmlische Buch, 3-49.
64. Gr. Naz. Or. 19.13 and 17, PG 35:157 and 1064; Koep, Das himm-
lische Buch, pp. 54-93.
65. Claudio Moreschini, "Influenze di Origine su Gregorio di Nazianzo,"
in Atti dell'Academia Toscana di Science e Lettere La Columbaria 44 (1979): 35-
57
66. Exod. 3:10; Plato Symp. 210d.
67. Moreschini, Discours 38-4I, pp. 41-42; Karl Holl, Amphilochius von
Ikonium in seinem Verh'ltnis zu den grossen Kappadoziern (Tbingen, 1904;
reprint ed., Darmstadt, 1969), pp. 160-70.
68. Gr. Naz. Poem. 1. 1.8, V.100-102; Plato, Rep. 617e.
69. This raises, of course, the thorny issues of sin and the origins of evil,
which Gregory, relying on Plato, solved in the tradition of Clement, Protr.
I 17. I; Strom. 6.96. I. Gregory's interpretation of the Fall is both pedagog-
ical and "external" : God intended man to be able to contemplate hirn but
not without labor. Man needed to prove through the potentiality and then
the actuality of sin that he was capable of choosing the good. First Man's
disobedience was thus the cause of sin yet suggested by a jealous demon,
the "external" aspect. Gr. Naz. Poem. 1.1.7.64-66; Or. 36.5. J. M. Szymu-
siak, "Gregoire de Nazianze et le peche," Studia Patristica 9 (1966): 288-
35; Alt haus , Die Heilslehre, p. 130; Franz Xaver Portmann, Die gb'ttliche
Paidagogia bei Gregor von Nazianz (St. Ottilien, 1954), pp. 68-78. For the
ramifications of Gregory's thought on original sin, especially for Augustine,
see Berthold Altaner, "Augustinus und Gregor von Nazianz, Gregor von
Nyssa," in Kleine Patristische Schriften, ed. Gnter Glockmann (Berlin, 1967),
pp. 277-85, and Pier Franco Beatrice, Tradux peccati: Alle /onti della dottrina
agostiniana deI peccato originale (Milan, 1978), pp. I 15-16, 200-201.
70. Gr. Naz. Or. 2.5. "Terminology of light" is Claudio Moreschini's very
apt expression, "Luce e purificazione nella dottrina di Gregorio Nazian-
zeno," Augustinianum 13 (1973): 535-49
7 I. Light is also quintessential for Gregory's understanding of the Trin-
ity: "The Trinity sparkies with the splendor of the entire divinity"; Or. 36.5;
39. 1; 40.5; Moreschini, Discours 38-4I, pp. 62-70.
72 . Plato Rep. 508c; Tim. 45 b-c; also Plotinus Enn. 5.3.8, Origen, and
numerous others, Claudio Moreschini, "11 platonismo cristiano di Gregorio
Nazianzeno," Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa 3, no. 4 (1974):
1347-92; J ean Danlou, Platonisme et theologie mystique: Doctrine spirituelle de
Saint Gregoire de Nysse} 2d ed. (Paris, 1954).
73. H. Pinault, Le platonisme de saint Gregoire de Nazianze (La-Roche-sur-
Yon, 1925), p. 52.
74. Joseph Ysebaert, Greek Baptismal Terminology: [ts Grigins and Early
Development (Nijmegen, 1962 ), pp. 167-74.
75 Gr. Naz. Gr. 2I.l; 28.3 0 ;- 4.5, 37; 443, 9, 17
76. Gr. Naz. Gr. 2.5; 30.20.
77. Plato Phaidon} 67 b ; Gr. Naz. Gr. 7. 17; 27.3; 405; 3I. 1 5, 21; 38.7.
78. Gregory uses approximately twenty-one expressions of baptism; those
referring to light and purity predominate, followed by those denoting "mark-
ing." Rebirth is used very rarely, see note 81 below. Moreschini, Discours
3 8-4 I } p. 357
79. For the rarity of delayed baptism, for example in North Africa, see
Eric Rebillard, "Le figure du catechumene et le probleme du delai du
bapteme dans la pastorale de saint Augustin, " in Augustin predicateur (395-
4I I)} ed. G. Madec (Paris, 1998), pp. 285-92.
80. Gr. Naz. Gr. 32 .22 ; 40.8, 10, 25-27;
8I. Gr. Naz. Gr. 4.2, 8; 39.2 and 6 are brief allusions to the widespread
notion of baptism as rebirth following J ohn 3: 5-6. This notion plays a truly
minimal role in Gregory's conceptualization, pace Saxer, Rites} p. 304.
82. Note also Gregory's use of baptism as purifying fire in Gr. 4.36. Gr.
Naz. Poem. I.2.1, 162S. Lampe, The Seal 0/ the Spirit} pp. 261-96. To cite a
remark of Emperor Julian: "The whole sum of Christian philosophy consists
in two things, whistling to keep away the demons and making the sign of
the cross on their foreheads." (Ep. 79).
83. Moreschini, Discours 38-4I} p. 17; only Gr. 4 "Against Julian" and
43 "In Praise of Basil" are slightly longer.
84. See his explicit recommendation of baptism as essential for those
engaged in public office, Gr. 4.19.
85. For example, by the metropolitan at that time still resident in Her-
acleia, or by the metropolitan in J erusalem, so Gregory; Gilbert Dagron,
N aissance d} une capitale: Constantinople et ses [nstitutions de 330 a 45 I (Paris,
19 8 4), pp. 44 6 , 459
86. Hermann Drrie, "Die Epiphanias-Predigt des Gregor von Nazianz
(Horn. 39) und ihre geistesgeschichtliche Bedeutung," in Kyriakon: Festschrift
Johannes Quasten} vol. I (Mnster, 1970), pp. 49-23.
87. Soc. HE 5.7; Soz. HE 7.5.5-7. Matthews, Western AristocraciesJ p.

122.
88. Soz. HE 7.17.7; 7.6.2; cf. Soc. HE 5.20.
89. Soc. HE 5.8; Wolf D. Hauschild, "Die Pneumatomachen: Eine Un-
tersuchung zur Dogmengeschichte des vierten Jahrhunderts" (Diss., Ham-
burg, 1967), pp. 170-201; Holl, AmphilochiusJ pp. 160-70. Philip Rousseau,
Basil 0/ Caesarea (Berkeley, Calif., 1994), pp. 245-69.
90. Daniel Caner, Wandering J Begging Monks: Spiritual Authority and the
Promotion 0/ Monasticism in Late Antiquity (Berkeley, Calif., 2002), pp. 190-
99
91. Gr. Naz. Gr. 39.18-19; CTh 16.6.2,; Can. Laod. 7; Bas. Ep. 188.
Martin Wall raff, "Die Geschichte des Novatianismus seit dem vierten Jahr-
hundert im Osten," Journal 0/ Ancient Christianity I (1997): 257-63.
92. Bas. De Spirit. 9.22-23.
93. Drrie, "Die Epiphanias-Predigt," pp. 49-11.
94. See Adelphius's "confession" that "there is no benefit from baptism
for those who receive it for only continuous prayer can drive out the in-
dwelling demon," at the "anti-Messalian" synod of Antioch in the early
380s; Photius Bib. 52; Theod. HE 4.11.7; Caner, WanderingJ Begging Monks J
pp. 83- 1 57.
95. A year earlier, while he was in the process of baptizing, ascetics and
"poor" had "stoned" Gregory, Ep. 77. 1-3. 78.1-4.
96. See Richard Lim, "Converting the Unchristianizable: The Baptism
0/ Stage Performers in Late Antiquity," in this volume for the continuing
exclusion of actors and other infamous persons.
97. As in Augustine's City 0/ God? Gregory's Orations 38 and 39 were
certainly among those used by Augustine, in Rufinus's Latin translation
made in 399/400; Claudio Moreschini, "Rufino traduttore di Gregorio di
Nazianzeno," in Rufino di Concordia e il SZIO tempoJ vol. I, Antichira altoadri-
atiche 31 (Udine, 1987), pp. 228-30. Peter Brown, Poverty and Leadership in
the Later Roman EmpireJ The Menachem Stern J erusalem Lectures 2000 (Ha-
nover, N.H., 2002), pp. 74-112.
98. Drrie, "Die Epiphanias-Predigt," pp. 49-23; Benoit Pruche, tr.,
Basile de Cisaree: Traiti du Saint-EspritJ Sources Chretiennes 17 (Paris, 1947),
p.88.
99. Philostorgius described this as the practice of his own church in
Constantinople, HE 10-4; Soc. HE 6.26.2, Soz. HE 6.26-4; Theod. Haer.
4.3; Bas. De Spirit. 12.28.1-7
100. Susanna Elm, "Orthodoxy and the True Philosophical Life: Julian
and Gregory of Nazianzus," Studia Patristica 37 (2001): 69-85.
101. Arist. Cat. 5 (3.33-37)
I02. Eun. Apol. 23-4.-IO.

I03. Philost. HE 9.I4.
I04. Eun. Expos. Fidei 3.33-42. Bas. Eun. 2.22.27-32; Richard Vag-
gione, Eunomius of Cyzicus and the Nicene Revolution (Oxford, 2000), pp. 328-
29; Richard P. C. Hanson, "The Arian Doctrine of the Incarnation," in
Arianism: Historical and Theological Reassessments: Papers from the Ninth Inter-
national Conference on Patristic Studies, September 5-IO, I983, Oxford, England,
ed. Robert C. Gregg (Cambridge, Mass., I985), pp. I8I-2 I I.
I05. Theurgy and its teachings of heavenly ascent (for example in Iam-
blichus) was part and parcel of that debate, and here too the language of
illumination and inscription was prevalent; Radcliffe G. Edmonds III, "At
the Seizure of the Moon: The Absence of the Moon in the Mithras Liturgy"
(unpublished paper), pp. I-2 I; Johnston, "Rising to the Occasion," pp.
I65-94; and especially eadem, "Piat Lux, fiat ritus."
I06. Const. App. 3.I6.20-I7.IO; reflecting the alterations of the fourth-
century editor, cf. Didasc. 3.I2.3. In fact, the "Eunomian" circles appear to
have alte red their baptismal ritual in the early 380s, probably around 383/
384. Maurice Wiles, "Tripie and Single Immersion: Baptism in the Arian
Controversy," Studia Patristica 30 (I997): 337-49; Vaggione, Ettnomius, pp.
324-42; Rowan Williams, "Baptism and the Arian Controversy," in Arian-
ism after Arius: Essays on the Development of the Fourth Century Trinitarian
Conf/icts, ed. Michel R. Barnes (Edinburgh, I993), pp. I49-80.
I07. CTh. I6.5.6.
2
THE POLITICS OF PASSING
]USTIN MARTYR'S CONVERSION AS A PROBLEM OF

"HELLENIZATION"
REBECCA LYMAN
At the end of his book Culture and Imperialism} Edward Said summarized the
ironie legacy of European imperialism for the twentieth century: "Imperial-
ism consolidated the mixture of cultures and legacies on a global scale. But
its worst and most paradoxical gift was to allow people to believe that they
were only, mainly, exclusively, white, Black, or Western, or Oriental."l
Recent studies of the history of religion in late antiquity have begun to
make similar claims regarding the false clarity of the traditional narrative of
emerging "Christianity" in contrast to "Judaism" or "Hellenism."2 While
the Roman imperial context is of course not strictly equivalent to the
nineteenth century, the ancient era does share social and ideological issues
of multiple identities shaped by varied local traditions and centralized po-
litical power. As Said went on to say, "Yet just as human beings make their
own history, they also make their cultures and ethnic identities. No one can
deny the persisting continuities of long traditions ... national languages,
and cultural geographies, but there seems no reason except fear and preju-
dice to keep insisting on the separation and distinctiveness, as if that was all
human life was about."3 Sorting out ancient identities is an old historical
problem, but unfortunately centuries of scholarship have been based on
comparison and opposition, usually linked to the institutional self-identity
of a single normative Christianity.4 In this paper I will examine how these
oppositions have obscured our understanding of Justin and his "conversion."
The contrast between "Christianity" and "Hellenism" is often coded through
a contrast of "bishops" and "teachers" who in turn embody "orthodoxy," i.e.
normative Christianity, and "heresy," the multiple and often enculturated
forms of belief. Figures such as Justin who cross such boundaries appear
either muddled or duplicitous. Drawing on the theoretical work of postco-
lonialism concerning identities and cultures as well as on recent work on
THE POLITICS OF P ASSING 37
late antique religion, I want to read the Christian authors of the second
century as direcdy addressing issues of multiple authorities and identities in
Roman Hellenism. By unraveling strategies of assimilation as weIl as real-
ities of estrangement in the theological writings of Justin, I will recover a
difIerent ideological and social context for the emergence of the first Chris-
tian literary works of "heresiology" and "apologetics." This shift in histor-
ical reconstruction will help us to locate Justin's conversion to Christianity
in new conceptual space.
Justin was an Asian immigrant to the West as weIl as a convert to a
persecuted cult, whose Hellenistic education allowed hirn to "pass" in sev-
eral worlds. "Passing" as used he re simply refers to the successful participa-
tion by individuals in multiple layers of dominant and dominated culture,
especially the attempt by "outsiders" to master attributes or tools of "insid-
ers" in order to gain recognition and power through the hegemonic culture
itself. This proce~s of mobility, if common, is also highly nuanced and
individual according to the ambitions, convictions, and experiences of each
person; assimilation in being an acquired state necessarily contains aspects
of alienation, but these can be turned in various directions. 5 Given this
complex and individual social reality, the simple contrast of "Christianity"
to "Hellenism" is not sufficient to unravel the cultural and historical real-
ities of second-century provinciallife. The ancient authors of varying status,
who defined themselves and others by relation to local traditions, "barbar-
ian origins," and Roman political dominance, as weIl as the elite literary
and philosophical paideia of Hellenism, preserve complex evidence of how
multiple choices were negotiated. Educated authors of Christian identifica-
tion need to be understood within the same cultural context. 6 The persist-
ing historiographical ambivalence concerning Justin as a Christian
philosopher therefore reveals the inadequacy of the traditional categories: is
Justin merely "passing" in the Hellenic literary culture through the lan-
guage and form of his Apology, yet do these profoundly philosophical inter-
ests prevent hirn from "passing" as orthodox in the later Christian narrative?
Drawing on Homi Bhabha's work on mimicry, we note that figures of
"doubling" disrupt normatiye structures of authority by their simultaneous
resemblance and disavowal: "The ambivalence of colonial authority repeat-
edly turns from mimicry--the difference which is almost nothing but not
quite--to menace--a difference that is almost total, but not quite."7 This
description of "mimicry" and "rnenace" echoes the criticisms of ancient
Christianityas an inadequate, but ultimately destructive, pseudo-philosophy;8
yet, in "orthodox" discourse philosophy is the "rnenace" which leads to
heresy, equally inadequate and destructive. Justin's "double" commitment
therefore makes hirn suspect as a Christian as well as a philosopher, fitting

the definition of neither dialectical philosophy nor orthodox Christianity.9
However, if we restore a reading of Justin as a "coionial" subject as well
as a religious one, we may begin to recover an intelligible social space of
selection and self-definition among competing ideologies which he inhabit-
ed as a second-century teacher. From this perspective his account of conver-
sion and truth may reveal innovation and creativity rather than inadequacy.
Postcolonial theorists have noted the "terror" and "instability" which the
appearance of "hybridity" creates in the midst of traditional authorities. If
traditional oppositions such as "Hellenie" and "barbarian" have been set to
stabilize intellectual and social power, authors and discourses which display
different cultural relations or readings destabilize existing ideologies: "Hy-
bridity intervenes in the exercise of authority not merely to indicate the
impossibility of its identity, but to represent the unpredictability of its
presence."lO In the initial appearance hybridity is therefore "subversive" for
it transgresses the traditional ideological boundaries, and by its very exist-
ence denies, or at least questions, the assumed reality of such contrasting
categories: "What is irremediably estranging is the presence of thehybrid
. . . the differences in cultures can no longer be identified or evaluated as
objects of epistemological or moral contemplation: cultural differences are
not simply there to be seen or appropriated."ll If one acknowledges the
multiplicity of forms of pre-Nicene Christianity as well as its incessant
internal conflict over theological and exegetical authority, this analysis of
"hybridity" as problematic and unstable rather than a tertium quid which
balances difference is helpful to understanding the emergence of our authors
and textsY Justin's mimesis of philosophical forms together with his self-
identification as a philosopher therefore represented both critique and de-
pendence. 13 As an "apologist" he did not translate an existing "religion"
into another "culture" for explanation and defense as often assumed, but
reflects an attempt within Roman Hellenism as an Asian provincial to
address contemporary problems of religious authenticity and cultural mul-
tiplicity. Baptism and conversion only began rather than ended a conversa-
tion about religious identity.14
The continuing reevaluation of the "Hellenization" of "Christianity," es-
pecially in the interpretation of second-century figures such as Justin, re-
fleets therefore an indeterminacy of religion and culture in Roman Hellenism
itself. In the second century religious energy focused not on a failure of
nerve, but on a necessity of choice among a growing complexity of philos-
ophies and local cults. The political expansion and revitalized Hellenism of
Trajan and Hadrian had led to a new order of centralized imperial authority,
and therefore the dose juxtaposition of many formerly local traditions of
piety and thought beneath an uneasy and negotiated Roman tolerance.

Given the burst of literary activity which produced new forms of religion
and philosophy in the imperial period, we should no longer dismiss this
period as merely "syncretistic": it was an era of unique religious opportuni-
ty and creativity.15 Ideologically, this context provoked searches for univer-
salism, both in Hellenistic histories of particular peoples as weIl as in
scholastic philosophies, each seeking to provide a compelling account of the
common traditions which could become a dominant cultural narrative for
the political transitions of the empire; for minority peoples or groups this
was a bid for religious legitimacy as weIl as political survival under Roman
hegemony.16 Within Platonism a lively, if conservative, scholasticism orig-
inated in Asia Minor, claiming to recover and res tore the pure teachings of
Plato; Numenius of Apamea in the second century, an author popular with
Christian intellectuals such as Justin, Origen, and Eusebius, offered a uni-
versal philosophy which lay behind Plato and Pythagoras in Egyptian, Per-
sian, and Hebrew wisdom. 17 This age of the genos apology and the scholastic
philosopher was therefore simultaneously innovative and conservative as
individuals argued the antiquity and universality of their own religion or
philosophy and the counterfeit nature of others. Our collective label of
"Roman Hellenism" therefore overshadows a lively, often chafing, multi-
plicity of locative and intellectual traditions which were shaped in turn by
the challenges and influences of Roman hegemony and Hellenistic tradi-
tion. In fact, "Hellenism . . . represented language, thought, mythology,
and images that constituted an extraordinarily flexible medium of both
cultural and religious expression. Ir was a medium not necessarily antithet-
ical to local or indigenous traditions."lS As Erich Gruen has noted concern-
ing the writings of first-century Judaism, these were not "permeated" with
Hellenism, but were an example of Hellenism itself. 19
These broad cultural generalizations about late antique culture omit the
concrete particulars of who was writing on these problems. As Maude Glea-
son has pointed out, in such an era of political destabilization, there was
tremendous pressure for self-invention. Paideia as the traditional, conserva-
tive, and to some extent universalized cultural package of manners and
education provided legitimate social mobility as some young men used
rhetorical competence to gain status and income, yet this was a treacherous
and complex negotiation up a steep cultural slope in the age of ambition
and Roman dominance. 20 The tensions between the horizontal expansion of
the elites through the literary acquisition of a dominant Greek culture and
the reality of cultural distinctions of the Roman Empire were visible in
different choices of provincial intellectuals, however ambitious; as the iden-
tity of being Greek became more universal, it equally became more difficult
to exhibit and maintain. 21 Competition for patronage was the sharp and
very public reality of this new climate of opportunity. Averil Cameron
comments that Christians talked themselves into power, but largely every-
one did. 22 In the politics of personal ambition which undergirds the produc-
tion of literary works in this period, the issues of local and universal or
innovation and tradition are central factors to be negotiated personally and
demonstrated textually. Embarrassing provincial origins or new religious
conversionscan in fact provide yet another means to display philotimia in
the right hands: Lucian, for example, used parodies of his Syrian back-
ground to show his ambition and upward mobility as an educated man;
such wit however would not preclude criticism of Roman political and
cultural limitations in contrast to Hellenic culture. 23 Bringing together the
earlier descriptions of this imperial age such as "anxiety" or "claustropho-
bia," we now recognize in this period unprecedented social and geograph-
ical mobility, ideological and philosophical creativity, and competition as
central to the literary construction of the late antique "self."24
Traditionally, normative Christianity has been seen as surviving this plu-
rality--or perhaps, to use a Californian image, surfing over it aIl-by
defensive theology, clear spiritual authority in the succession of bishops, a
central cultic community, and the priority of a revealed, simple truth. Cer-
tain individuals participated in competitive intellectual culture only out of
apologetic necessity, and those who embraced it too seriously were in peril,
notably Origen, the poster child of overenthusiastic Christi an intellectuais.
The defeat of "Gnosticism" in the second century, esoteric and intellectual
at once, can be seen as a sort of cultural exorcism of Hellenistic rationalism,
and superstition. 25 This traditional narrative creates and sustains Christian
uniqueness by selective contrasts to the "inchoate" plurality of paganism,
the "rationalism" of philosophy, the "static" forms of Judaism, and the
"speculative elitism" of Gnosticism. However, to return to the insights of
Edward Said, in the literary conflicts of Roman Hellenism, no one in the
end was purely one thing, especially not the socially mobile provincial
intelligentsia who wrote the majority of contemporary literature; not even
the emperor Marcus Aurelius himself, writing self-consciously in Greek and
embracing a philosophy which had been labeled traitorous a century be-
fore. 26 The polemical contrast of "Hellenism" to "Christianity" was a prod-
uct of the fourth century.27 Distinctions both religious and cultural of course
existed with regard to authoritative texts, practices of monotheism or poly-
theism, or use of the dialectic, and provoked not only literary polemic, but
physical violence; these conflicts however were occurring within "Christian"
and "Jewish" communities as weIl as in relation to those outside. It is not
at all clear, therefore, whether converts to Christianity were "defecting"
THE POLITICS OF P ASSING
from Hellenism in the second century, or rather participating in a cultural

shift in which some individuals revised sources of Greek culture in order to
embrace diversity and antiquity of traditions. 28 Pythagorean Platonists such
as Numenius or Ammonius were willing to embrace forms of philosophy
which incorporated local, i.e. "barbarian," sources of ancient wisdom as well
as an appeal to transcendent, if not mystically revealed, knowledge. 29
If we must conceive of Hellenism more broadly, then we also need to
reevaluate our assumptions concerning Christianity. For example F. Wisse in
an important article on diversity in second-century Christianity noted that
multiplicity was "tolerated because there was not equipment to refute it."30
Such a statement historicizes a consistent "orthodox" strategy as well as a
normative concern for unity. Multiplicity itself, therefore, is adeparture
from the existing norm, and dissenters are commonly described in pejora-
tive terms which locate them closer to the "Hellenic" culture around them,
such as "scholastic," "teachers," "speculative," or "competitive"; in contrast
the mainstream community is described as "communal" and "worship cen-
tered" with "episcopal leadership."31 This characterization, most recently
maintained by D. Brakke and R. Williams, has a long historiographical
trail in which the later definitions of leadership, community, and spiritual-
ity have been used to sift the ambiguities and silences of second-century
Christianity.32 Most simply, the contrast of "teachers" and "bishops" marks
degrees of assimilation "toward" culture and therefore "away" from cult,
supposedly identifying primary religious or cultural identity and motiva-
tion. However, recent historical studies challenge such categorization in the
second century. U. Neymeyr has confirmed a primary Christian self-identity
of the many "teachers" of the era. 33 Following the work of P. Lampe on the
variety of house churches in Rome, A. Brent has argued that in the early
centuries "school and church are simply value judgments applied to what in
appearance and organization are very similar organizations."34 Our limited
and scattered liturgical and archaeological evidence should also make us
extremely cautious about assuming the existence of a normative "church"
rather than a group of individual and varied communities; Justin, a teacher,
remains the primary source for liturgical acts in Rome in the second centu-
ry.35 We cannot therefore assume the existence of a normative institutional
identity or piety, when it is in fact being created through the literary works
and letters of the period. 36
The problem, then, of trying to read Justin as a cultural work in progress,
i.e. as a Christian teacher or philosopher, rather than a finished canonical
subject, i.e. as an Apologist, is part of our struggle historically and ideolog-
ically to read second-century Christianity itself as a work in progress. lron-
ically, due to Justin's, and later Irenaeus's, successful polemics against
"deviant" teachers, we hesitate to give hirn as a "teacher" a central place in

the construction of orthodox Christianity identity.37 However, if we con-
ceive of the creative space of the second century as including the negotia-
tion of various cultural streams as "hybrids," we may be able to give more
credence to the multiple identities and mixed genres of the authors them-
selves. 38 Restoring the cultural necessities as well as the intellectual agency
of Justin are essential to unraveling his religion: "The issue here is not
whether a local culture is pure or derivative, unitary or contested. Nor is it
being proposed that there is a super causality . . . that determines how
everybody on the ground must live. I am concerned with how systematicity
... is apprehended, represented and used ras} a mode of human agency, one
that conditions other people's lives."39 Justin's literary presentation of "Chris-
tianity" as the sum of ancient wisdom preserves the view, the "systematic-
ity" of identity, of one provincial intellectual.
Justin's complex colonial background has generally been overshadowed
by the universalism of his theology. He hirnself outlines his genealogy in
the First Apology: "On behalf of people of every nation who are unjustly
hated and grossly abused, I, Justin, son of Priscus and grandson of Bacchius,
from Flavia Neapolis in Syria-Palestine, ... myself being one of them:"40
Embodying the contemporary palimpsest of Roman identity in the East,
Justin's own name and those of his father, city, and province are Latin; his
town in Samaria acquired this name relatively recently, and "Syria-Pales-
tine" of course came into existence after the Bar Kochba war in 132. The
social historians Millar and Brown point out Justin's colonial past, noting
hirn as one of many uprooted and dislocated men of Asia Minor who came
west. 41 Indeed, Millar notes that Justin is unusual in reflecting so much of
his local culture and languages in his work. 42 Notably, most theological
historians have tended to overlook or minimize this evidence, preferring to
focus upon and confirm Justin's Hellenistic pedigree: Grant noted that
Justin called hirnself a "Samaritan", though his family names "reflect a
family fully tuned to Hellenism."43 Within the overarching hermeneutical
contrast of Christianity and Hellenism, Justin's provincial origins usually
disappear. The complexity of his relation to Roman hegemony is framed
only in religious terms, as a Christian, just as his cultural interests have
been flattened into "Hellenism." Framed by anachronistic images of a nor-
mative "church," we receive Justin the "Apologist" whose philosophical
credentials are essential to protecting the intellectual origins of Christian
theology. Historically, this primary ideological identity in fact represents
Justin's provincial success. Just as paideia provided another provincial, Fa-
vorinus, with a new imperial identity, so for Justin Christianity provides a
universalizing identity; the goal of second-century Hellenism, especially for
certain educated young men, was to unite and transcend local identities
through philosophy.44 However, Hellenism also provided the means to chal-
lenge Roman dominance, especially in defending local religious practice. 45
Paideia as weIl as conversion therefore allowed a Samaritan to address the
emperors critically as fellow philosophers: "For thus both rulers and sub-
jects would reap benefit .... For unless both rulers and ruled love wisdom,
it is impossible to make cities prosper."46
If historically and culturally essential to his social mobility and intellec-
tual authority, Justin's philosophical identity, as we have seen, remains
problematic within the conventional narrative, and is explicitly personal-
ized in order to preserve the primacy of a baptismal identityY His narrative
of conversion from Stoic to Peripatetic to Pythagorean to Platonist to Chris-
tian has often been explained as "conventional," like his gown, a literary
trapping to make his new Christian discourse palatable in the mainstream
or to distinguish hirn from Judaism. 48 Such descriptions reflect the assump-
ti on that J ustin's work as a teacher was distinct from or ancillary to a
normative Christianity of the time: "Such schools were only indirectly sub-
ject to the discipline of the church which, at least in second century Rome,
was not much concerned with philosophical or theological matters."49 Even
Grant's recent attempt at balance maintains the binary ring: "Justin was not
simply a philosopher ... he was a churchman."50 Justin's identity in these
historical narratives has been split and prioritized in order to fit the conven-
tional opposition of Hellenism and Christianity as weIl as the taxonomy of
communal bishops and marginal teachers. Ir is almost impossible to visual-
ize Justin as a free-willed agent of philosophical Christianity when the
social or ideological space for such action has been erased: if a philosopher,
he must by definition be idiosyncratic and if a Christian, his philosophical
interests must be subordinate to his religious identity. The underlying dis-
comfort is the parallel, however triumphant, that Justin, dearly a member
of a Roman Christian community, draws between his own philosophical
searches and his own, if not others', conversion to Christianity.51 His de-
scription of a philosophical search in both his Dialogtte and the Acta of his
martyrdom reveal that Christianity in practice and teaching summed up the
partial answers he al ready knew: "I have tried to learn from all teachings,
but I came to accept the true teachings of the Christians"; "I found this
philosophy alone to be safe and profitable. Thus, for this reason, I am a
philosopher."52 Do we detect a double truth where Justin, "a serious philos-
opher," found only one?53
The problem lies perhaps less in Justin's choice of dress after baptism
than in our suspicions about "Christianity" and "Hellenism. " When framed
by the larger intellectual culture, Justin's literary work is highly conventional,
if contentious in arguing for Christian superiority as the fullness of divine

truth. The Apologies followed the usual forms for defending the cultural
antiguity of a people, although emphasizing, in light of Numenian Pla-
tonism, that the original and transcendent truth was now revealed in Chris-
tianity.54 As Wazink, Mortley, and Droge point out, appeals to universality
based on hierarchies of tradition and strategies of assimilation were com-
monplace in the second century.55 Underlying such arguments about reli-
gious hegemony was, however, a profound sense of cultural interconnection
as well as distinction and hierarchy common to provincial life of the period:
"That Zenobia could be a Roman to the Romans and an Arab to the Arabs
can only be explained by the miraculous refracting power of Hellenism."56
Justin's appeal to the ultimate authority of divine revelation in prophetic
texts or to Jesus as the Logos, the original truth sought by human philos-
ophers, is confrontational, but it is potentially powerful precisely because of
its Hellenistic lineage in establishing truth through antiguity and transcen-
dence. 57 However, the ambivalence or duplicity of Justin for many lies
exactly here, as he claimed to remain a philosopher; language of faith or
revelation takes us out of philosophical discourse and for some, out of
Hellenism entirely.58 Returning to the concept of "hybrid," we see Justin's
answer to a "safe" and "profitable" philosophy as reflecting both opposition
and assimilation. The traditional authority of philosophy is present, but it
has been displaced, if not overshadowed, by a claim of original wisdom,
"beyond demonstration," which the philosophers of various schools sought.
Yet, it is precisely this one transcendent and revealed truth which continues
to confirm the value of Plato or the heroism of Socrates as weIl as the
salvation of Christians. Justin's reconciliation of contemporary multiplicity
or skepticism is thus shown in his "hybrid." In bringing together revealed
texts and the history of philosophy he has shifted cultural categories rather
than destroyed them; his critical and creative use of concepts has displaced
the authority of philosophy, yet the truth of its concepts such as transcen-
dence and mediation remain essential to his thought. 59 This is coherent
culturally only for a Hellenist, who accepts a unity of cultures and litera-
tures, rather than their opposition. Just as Justin's identity was confirmed
by his education, dress, and profession as a teacher in Rome, in spite of his
provincial background, so his potentially barbaric faith was legitimated by
its Platonic analogies and its fulfillment of ancient prophecies. These onto-
logical gualities were essential to authority in contemporary intellectual
culture, not mere adornments acguired in order to "pass" undisturbed, the
gown of Justin to be shed at will. For Justin, Christianity, if superior, was
congruent with philosophy: "Brief and concise speech fell from hirn, for he
was no sophist, but his word was the power of God. "60
THE POLITICS OF PASSING 45
The discomfort and ambiguity for Christians and critics alike therefore
lie in this hybrid vision of philosophical Christianity. Revealed truth may
be readily accessible, but it is remains difficult to discern. Although Justin
asserted the absolute authority of his new philosophy based on Hebrew
Scripture and the incarnation of the true Logos in Jesus, truth and falsity
remain intertwined within the multiplicity of locative religions, texts, sto-
ries, and competing philosophies. The contemporary problem with truth as
Justin unravels it in his Apologies is less opposition of traditions than decep-
tive likeness and diabolical imitation. As Justin pointed out, "I confess that
I both pray and with all my strehgth strive to be found a Christian, not
because the teachings of Plato are different from those of Christ, but be-
cause they are not in every respect equal. ... For the seed and imitation of
something . . . is one thing, and another is the thing itself."61 Indeed,
philosophy had been "passing" as Christianity, that is as "truth," when in
fact the complete truth lay only in the Word. Justin ridiculed the tradition-
al cults or myths for their immorality: these in fact were demonie imita-
tions of Christian acts, however transcendent philosophy provided the very
means to criticize the cult. 62 The transcendent unity of Pythagorean Pla-
tonism therefore allowed Justin to claim the monotheism of philosophy and
Hebrew Scripture while criticizing polytheistic practice and Hebrew law. 63
Such distinctions between cult and philosophy of course appeared illegiti-
mate to Celsus, who attacked the menace of Christian mimicry by defend-
ing the true Word of ancient Hellenism; Christians had no right to either
Jewish wisdom or Hellenie philosophy to defend their recent and supersti-
tious practices, since to be so poody Hellenized was not to be Greek at al1. 64
The unsetding power of Justin's "mimicry" of Hellenism while describ-
ing Christianity as a transcendent philosophy--almost the same, but not
quite--is further reflected in his description of dissent as "heresy." As Le
Boulluec has pointed out, the construction of apologetics was the birth of
heresiology, since the same historiographical traditions allowed Justin to
marginalize those teachers he considered to be false. 65 Le Boulluec's master-
ful study of the development of heresiology, upon which I am gratefully
dependent, focuses however only on the rhetorical forms of Justin, and
attributes these developments to the institutional growth of the "church"
which necessitated defense and definition in regard to Hellenism and dis-
sent. 66 Rather than locate the historical agency in a proto-Catholic commu-
nity whose existence and character are largely assumed, I wish to show how
Justin's intellectual argument of mimicry to subvert philosophical authority
necessarily led to the subversion of orthodox Christianity itself. Hairesis in
Justin was no longer a neutral opinion or sect, but a diabolical error: "her-
esy."67 Yet", in contrast to his successors such as Irenaeus, Tatian, or Tertullian,
Justin does not describe philosophy as hairesis, nor is hairesis aseparate

school or succession. Hairesis is a wrong opinion or perversion of truth, such
as magie or Gnosticism; as in the understanding of Numenius, the existence
of multiplicity shows the corruption of the original single truth. 68 By their
association with these lower forms of religious belief, heretics are to the
orthodox as "Christians' would be to Celsus, reflecting superstition, obsti-
nacy, and ignorance. Hairesis has therefore become the destructive mimicry
of orthodoxy. J ust as the pagan sacrifices were demo nie counterfeits of the
sacraments, so hairesis was the demonie counterfeit of the truth, character-
ized by innovation, human ingenuity, and multiplicity: "For those who are
called demons strive for nothing else than to take away people from God
who made them and from Christ ... they have pinned down by earthly
things [idolatry} ... and even trip up those who devote themselves to the
contemplation of things divine."69
The authority and attributes of a philosophical transcendence therefore
characterized "orthodox" Christianity, which through the authority of He-
brew Scripture claimed the positive attributes of "good" Hellenism in its
appeal to antiquity, divine revelation, and simple morality. Heresy is there-
fore "bad" Hellenism in its association with magie and falsity.70 Given the
high stakes of persecution and philosophical truth in the second century,
this construction of Christianity as the origin of philosophy itself was a
serious play for life and death by a colonial intellectual such as Justin. The
attempted task was focusing the spectrum of traditions and identities into
a single light through ranking, interpretation, and comparison. Jesus as the
"whoie" Logos could summarize ancient wisdom as weIl as universal en-
lightenment: "For with what reason should we believe of a crucified man
that He is the First-begotten of the Unbegotten ... unless we had found
testimonies ... and unless we had seen that things had thus happened--the
devastation of the land of the J ews and men and women of every race
persuaded by the teaching ... ?"71 Christianity could be both a philosophy,
and more, just as Justin wears a cloak and is baptized, is both a Roman and
a Samaritan. Justin's powerful construction of a Logos Christianity therefore
demonstrated infinite possibilities for assimilation and alienation. On one
hand he included various traditions since one Word is the source of all
knowledge: "Whatever were rightly said among all people are the property
of us Christians."72 On the other hand, the same quotation proclaims the
authority of origins to discipline diversity in light of one Christian truth.
Such a construction of "universal" truth did not in fact provide the dogmat-
ic stability or secure identity which is often assumed in narratives of "ortho-
doxy." The dynamic argument of "almost the same, but not quite" or "almost
totaIly different, but not quite" creates an indeterminacy at the boundary
which encourages both resistance to and acceptance of surrounding cultures,

and most importantly, an acute need for ongoing distinction, discernment,
and exegesis within the community of the one logos. Not only an intellec-
tual problem, the demonization of hairesis spiritually did not throw argu-
ment and opinion into stark contrast with revealed truth, but rather provoked
more intense need for control and definition to maintain authenticity. Jus-
tin's adaptation of contemporary philosophical structure to reveal Christian
superiority and transcendence therefore encouraged the suspicion of the
continuing subversion of truth itself, whether inside or outside of the com-
munity.
Irenaeus shifted this vision of philosophical incompleteness into a stark
confrontation between Christianity and Hellenism, orthodoxy and heresy.
Writing about thirty years later after a bitter and well-publicized persecu-
tion, he took a distinctly different line than his teacher, associating heresy
explicitly with philosophy. As with Justin, le Boulluec reads this rhetorical
and theological development in line with an assumed institutional develop-
me nt of Christianity: if Justin had used philosophy to distinguish the
"church" from Judaism, Irenaeus must now balance assimilation with "Hel-
lenism."73 Grant, however, provides a more concrete and suggestive inter-
pretation of the attitude of Irenaeus, and even more stridently, Tatian:
Justin's apology had failed, he had been killed, and the persecution at lyons
had revealed the fragility of Christian everyday existence. 74 Tatian's attack
therefore focused on the knowing deception of Romans and Greeks who fail
to acknowledge their dependence on ancient "barbarian" wisdom. He ex-
tended mimicry to philosophy itself, attacking the lives and successions of
the schools, showing Christianity to be the superior philosophy since it
acknowledged its ancestry as "barbarian," and allowed a variety of people,
genders, and classes to flourish as "philosophers. "75
Irenaeus went beyond both Tatian and Justin to discard philosophy as a
representation of Christianity at all. Philosophy no longer contained pieces
of truth, but in fact was the inspiration for "heresy." The "heretics" repre-
sented therefore the intellectual and religious deceptions of the surrounding
society-magicians, Sophists-and were even worse than pagans. 76 If or-
thodoxy still contains the attributes of good Hellenism (aneient, universal,
transcendent, simple), these are no longer named in relation to philosophy,
but embodied as the transcendent divine truth of God conveyed exclusively
in the "apostolic" succession of Scripture and teaching. Philosophical cate-
gories are of course still used and assumed by Irenaeus in his theological
arguments, but no longer in overt comparison to Christian revelation. 77
Error both heretical and pagan can now be traced through aseparate succes-
sion in contrast to the ancient, public genealogy of Christian apostolic
truth. This tradition of belief and exegesis was the means to discern jewels
from glass or sheep from wolves who were in the community itself. 78 Le
Boulluec suggests that the intellectual style of the "Gnostics" may have
provoked the form of the refutation of Irenaeus, his appeal to the polemics
of the Sophists, the separate diadoche, and a focus on doctrine rather than on
issues of common life; Michael Williams in his recent critical revision of
"Gnosticism" suggests by analogy to modern sociology that the "Gnostics"
may have been more assimilationist in their thought and practice. 79 I am
suggesting that problems of assimilation and authority were al ready present
in the form of universal Christianity taught by Justin, which could lead to
the polemical invention of "Gnosticism" as philosophical and superstitious
at once, whatever may have actually been taught by Valentinus or Ptolemy.
Irenaeus's concern with identifying valid sacraments, lasting conversions,
and legitimate successions reveals the instability of the inherited discourse
of Justin, and the necessity of establishing the correct diadoche and belief
within the baptized community itself. If we restore a primary teaching
identity to Irenaeus as aleader, the controversial rhetoric of his text reflects
a continuing debate over identity and authority by competitive intellectuals
within the community rather than a defensive protection against outsiders.
Ideologically, error as heresy therefore mimics the succession, canonical
writings, and cult of the true community, and lies within it. The paradox-
ical "alterite" and "negativite" of heresiology in Irenaeus therefore evinces
the cultural ambivalence of the orthodox discourse: even as baptized Chris-
tians within a shared community, "heretics" can be "idolaters" and "Soph-
ists" for these are the corruptions of true philosophy, which is orthodoxy.80
In Lyons the necessity to identify the saving transcendent truth of the
persecuted immigrant community therefore provoked sharper philosophical
and cultural distinctions inside and outside the community.
In the second century Christian "orthodoxy" therefore could replace "phi-
losophy" as a universal system because it could occupy many of the same
cognitive and authoritative spaces, even if it explicitly attacked the culture
and religion of traditional paideia. This is not a transformation of "Helle-
nism" by "Christianity," but a reconfiguring within the culture itself as a
means of understanding universality and identity. The ideological reception
of "Christianity," defined as a universal transcendent truth, in opposition to
"Hellenism," defined simply as a pagan tradition outside it, has led to a
theological and historical understanding of philosophy as simply a "guise"
for Christian truth. Yet, the continuing unease concerning the authority of
philosophy or Hellenism within Christianity reveals that Justin's mimicry
of Hellenism created an indeterminate hybrid which made Tertullian as
uneasy as Celsus: Can orthodoxy itself be simply a guise for Hellenism?
THE POLITICS OF PASSING 49
Justin's presentation of Jesus as the Logos was both subversive and legiti-
mating, resulting in a seeming rejection of the authority of philosophy, yet
adopting the central notions of transcendent unity and historical succession.
Competition, speculation, and at least overtly, "philosophy" itself were ex-
ternalized in "orthodoxy" not because of an apriori essential Christian
identity as unified or dogmatic, but rather to construct an "essential" Chris-
tianity as the universal truth within and beyond the perceived problems or
limits of intellectual culture. This construction depended on contemporary
historiographical and philosophical forms for its theological and cultural
power and persuasion. By refusing to be a "philosophy," Christianity was
able to "pass" as the sole transcendent truth in Justin; by rejecting all
dissent as hairesis, that is, demonized human opinion in contrast to revealed
truth, Christianity confirmed its singular authority. However, as a "hybrid"
the very discourse of orthodoxy disavowed these rhetorical assurances of the
security of divine authority and human reception in the apostolic succes-
sion. Instead, Christianity as "orthodoxy" provoked endless negotiation of
authority and boundary precisely along the lines of assimilation and con-
flict: Who was the true Word? If transcendent, how immanent? If univer-
sal, how locative?
Justin himself therefore bequeathed the tension of philosophical conver-
sions within the history of Christianity. A fundamental ambivalence lay
within the development of "orthodoxy" as a transcendent, universal truth,
which instead of uniting and separating Christians from surrounding cul-
tures and philosophies increased the necessity to discipline diversity and
boundaries of assimilation. To parallel Homi Bhabha's analysis of nine-
teenth-century colonialism, the mimicry of philosophy in Justin attempted
to contrast a transcendent, final, and authentic truth to human disorder and
error. However, in Irenaeus this "orthodoxy" threw the boundaries, negoti-
ations, and plurality into a harsher and more menacing light, ironically
increasing adesire and necessity to discipline and normalize the existence of
plurality and dissonance. 81 I have tried to locate the historical agency for
this discourse within a group of immigrant Christian teachers rather than in
general assumptions of institutional inevitability or a need for coherence
based on an essentialized or transhistorical Christianity.82 I am suggesting
therefore that the creation of orthodoxy was a philosophical project of the
marginalized, not the intellectual expression of an inevitable "dogmatism"
of Christianity.83 This adaptation of paideia in Justin was inherently unsta-
ble since it was both true "Christianity," but also true "Hellenism" in its
declaration of cultural unity, transcendent truth, and universal claims. There-
fore, the supposedly decisive elements of revealed truth in ancient texts or
public succession had to be constantly monitored in regard to proximity
both to eulture and to traditions reeeived. Deseriptions of heresy as "philos-

ophy" or "magie" wi thin Christian hegemonie speech ereated yet another
level of diseursive mimiery and menaee, as Tertullian, Hippolytus, and
Origen offered inereasingly sophistieated, if quite different, arguments eon-
eerning the relation of eulture, philosophy, and orthodoxy. However, the
final sueeess of "orthodoxy" is revealed in how the authority of its historieal
arehiteets, the "Apologists," were themselves limited by later developments
of their own model of transeendent, revealed truth, and their errors laid at
the feet of Hellenie philosophy. Martyrdom perhaps resolved any linge ring
ambiguities about ]ustin's eonversion,84 yet even this aet eould disclose the
legaey of both ]esus and Socrates.
NOTES
I. Culture and Imperialism (New York, 1993), p. 336.

2. D. Boyarin suggests a "wave theory" of religion to understand the
eonvergenee and divergenee of Christianity and ]udaism in late antiquity, in
Dying tor God: Martyrdom and the Making 0/ Christianity and Judaism (Stan-
ford, Calif., 1999), p. 9. The multiplicity of forms of religion, including the
diversity of forms of Christianity, and their integration into Roman life are
best outlined in the reeent study of M. Beard, ]. North, and S. Priee In
Religions 0/ Rome: A History! vol. I (Cambridge, 1998), pp. 211-312.
3. Culture and Imperialism! p. 33 6.
4. On the history of Protestant and Roman Catholie scholarship behind
eomparisons of early Christianity and Hellenism, see ]. Smith, Drudgery
Divine: On the Comparison 0/ Early Christianities and the Religions 0/ Late
Antiquity (Chieago, 1990). The neeessity of understanding religion as dis-
course within eulture is argued by T. Asad, Genealogies 0/ Religion: Discipline
and Reasons 0/ Power in Christianity and Islam (Baltimore, 1993), pp. 9-15.
5. See eomments by G. C. Spivak, A Critique 0/ Postcolonial Reason:
Toward a History 0/ the Vanishing Present (Cambridge, Mass., 1999), p. 6; on
eontrasting individual politieal and ideologieal responses to a dominant
eulture, see A. H. Goldman, "Comparative Identities: Exile in the Writings
of Frantz Fanon and W. E. B. Du Bois," in Borders! Bottndaries! and Frames:
Essays in Cultural Criticism and Cultural Studies! ed. M. G. Henderson (New
York, 1995), pp. 107-32.
6. "For it hardly needs to be said that personal identity is not a homog-
enous mass .... On the wider politieal plane there is a degree of contradie-
tion between their Greek and Roman identities. This is not surprising. For
it is preeisely when a people is under foreign domination that ehoiees have
THE POLITICS OF P ASSING 5I
to be made between acceptance and resistance and about preferences wi thin

these alternatives." S. Swain oudines the complexity of literary and political
identity for provincial individuals in the second century in his Hellenism and
Empire: Language, Classicism, and Power in the Greek World, A.D. 50-250
(Oxford, 1996), p. 7 I. However, he would not extend this negotiation of
local identity, Hellenie inheritance, and criticism of Rome to "Christians";
he contrasts Christianity to "Hellenism"; Christianity offers a way to "re-
ject" the "burdens of Greek identity"; see "Defending Hellenism: Philostra-
tus, In Honour 0/ Apollonius," in Apologetics in the Roman Empire: Pagans, Jews,
and Christians, ed. M. Edwards, M. Goodman, and S. Price (Oxford, 1999),
pp. 157-58, 193; R. Wilken, "Toward a Social Interpretation of Early
Christian Apologetics," Church History 39 (1970): 45 6 ..
7. The Location 0/ Culture (London, 1994), p. 86. Du Bois of course
discussed the "double consciousness" of the African American in The Souls 0/
Black Folks; Fanon in Black Skin, White Masks explicidy addressed the dif-
ficulties of self-definition or authentie freedom when defined and socially
controlled through a dominant discourse. Goldman contrasts their strate-
gies of civil disobedience and defensive violence in "Comparative Identi-
ties," pp. 125-27.
8. This was the attitude of ancient critics such as Celsus, but modern
commentators often echo the implication of a pseudo-philosophy. "Like-
wise, the more Christianity fancied itself a philosophy, the more Greek
philosophy had to respond" (Swain, "Defending Hellenism," p. 185); "Pla-
tonism is given the most space in ]ustin's account of his personal quest, but
that is pardy because its pretensions were greatest at this period .... ]ustin
continues to seduce by means of his philosophical posture" (T. Rajak, "Talk-
ing at Trypho: Christi an Apologetic as Anti-]udaism in ]ustin's Dialogue
with Trypho the Jew," in Edwards et al. , Apologetics in the Roman Empire, p.
67); "] ustin knew weIl his own arguments were unsatisfactory from a philo-
sophical perspective" (R. Lim, Public Disputation, Power and Sodal Order in
Late Antiquity [Berkeley, Calif., 1995}, p. 8). C. Stead offers arguments on
whether Christianity could be a philosophy in Philosophy in Christian Antiq-
uity (Cambridge, 1994). E. Os born presents a more optimistic view in The
Beginnings 0/ Christian Philosophy (Cambridge, 198I).
9. References to ]ustin's "double" nature are generally critical: A. Ham-
man finds his "double fidelite" problematic, "Dialogue entre le christianis-
me et la culture grecque des origines a ]ustin: Genese et etapes," in Les
apologistes chritiens et la culture grecque, ed. B. Pouderon and J. Dore, Theol-
ogie Historique I05 (Paris, 1998), p. 50; Neymeyr concluded that ]ustin's
conversion must include "beide Motive," both religious and philosophi-
eal, in Die christlichen Lehrer im Zweiten Jahrhundert: Ihre Lehrtiitigkeit, ihr
Sebstverstiindnis und ihre Geschichte (Leiden, 1989), p. 20. T. Rajak describes

hirn as follows: "Ir is a reasonable surmise that Justin continued through
life to wear two hats, though given a character of such extremism and
intensity ... it is dubious whether the balance was perfecdy maintained"
("Talking at Trypho," p. 66). M. Edwards notes that he carried his theology
in "two wallets" in "On the Platonic Schooling of Justin Martyr," Journal 0/
Theological Studies 42 (1991): 32; he also notes that most scholars consider
Justin to be "two people," the biblical theologian of the Dialogue and the
Hellenist of the Apologies, in "Justin's Logos and the Word of God," Journal
0/ Early Christian Studies 3 (1995): 261. Spivak's comments on the interpre-
tation of Sati in India may by analogy be transferred to the problems of
recovering the religious agency of Justin: "Between patriarchal subject-
formation and imperial object-constitution, it is the place of the free will or
agency of the sexed subject as female that is successfully effaced," A Critique
0/ Postcolonial Reason, p. 235.
10. Bhabha, The Location 0/ Culture, p. 114.
11. Ibid., p. 113.
12. Spivak comments on the difficulty of evaluating "hybrids" which can
often legitimate our preconceptions of the "pure" and obscure the fact of
our continuing ignorance about the past, Critique 0/ Postcolonial Reason, p.
65. Some scholars have interpreted second-century apologetics in this fash-
ion, emphasizing Christianity as a "third race," consciously constructed as
distinct from both "Judaism" and "Hellenism." "Hellenism" in this frame-
work is defined as the stable culture against which "Christians" define
themselves, as in Frances Young, "Greek Apologists of the Second Century,"
in Edwards et al., Apologetics in the Roman Empire, p. 8 I. Separate religions
and literatures in her definition indicate separate "cultures," so she sees the
work of Justin and Tatian as audacious outsiders consciously overthrowing
Hellenic tradition by the appeal to biblical authority: "What we are observ-
ing, I suggest, is the adoption of a contemporary preoccupation with the
history of culture for the purposes of relativising that culture in relation to
an alien body of literature offered as a substitute for the established classics .
. . . This is scandalous on both counts, namely the appropriation of an alien
canon of literature to which these upstarts might be regarded as having no
claim and the attempt to subvert the established basis of Hellenistic cul-
ture." Biblical Exegesis and the Formation 0/ Christian Culture (Cambridge,
1997), pp. 53-54. This analysis assurnes second-century authors to be out~
side or alien to Hellenism, which is certainly not the case with Justin. Ir fits
instead the fourth-century categories of Eusebius and Epiphanius, whom
she cites, p. 69. For a similar view, see G. Strousma, Barbarian Philosophy:
The Religious Revolution 0/ Early Christianity (Tbingen, 1999). A. Droge
cautions against overemphasizing the concept of the "third race" in Homer or

Moses? Early Christian Interpretation 0/ the History 0/ Culture (Tbingen, 1989),
p. 19 6 .
13. G. Dorival discusses the mimesis of the literary genre of the Apolo-
gists in ''L'apologetique chretienne et la culture grecque," in Les apologistes
chretiens et la culture grecqtte! pp. 462-65; see also C.-F. Geyer, Religion und
Diskurs: Die Hellenisierung des Christentums aus der Perspektive der Religions-
philosophie (Stuttgart, 1990), pp. 19-22.
14. Philosophical and Christian conversion are generally contrasted as
alternatives with regard to which community joined or belief in a biblical
God; see P. Aubin, Le probleme de la IlconversionJ! (Paris, 1962), especially the
conclusion, pp. 186-200. H. Remus noted that "in Justin's conversion he
should ... annihilate his former social and cultural worlds" to embrace the
axioms and practices of the new community, in "Justin Martyr's Argument
with Judaism," Anti-Judaism in Early Christianity: Separation and Polemic! ed.
S. G. Wilson (Waterloo, Ont., 1986), p. 70. Given the arguments ab out
authentie baptism and the status of "lapsed" Christians, in part provoked by
the persecutions, which split Christian communities from the second to the
fifth century, we should be cautious in assuming too much theological
consistency or institutional stability.
15. See Beard, North, and Price on the proliferation of religious choices,
Religions 0/ Rome! pp. 245-46. "Syncretism" of course is itself a negative
term, implying an illegitimate mixture of cultures; see Smith, Drudgery
Divine! pp. 37-42.
16. Droge, Homer or Moses? pp. 9-10.
17. On Numenius see J. Dillon, The Middle Platonists (London, 1977),
pp. 361-79; J. Glucker, Antiochus and the Late Academy! Hypomnemata 56
(Gttingen, 1978), pp. 134-45. The links between Christi ans and this form
of Platonism are discussed in A. Le Boulluec, La notion d!heresie dans la
litterature grecque IIe-IIIe scles! vol. I (Paris, 1985), pp. 49-5 I; Droge,
Homer or Moses? pp. 70-80; E. des Places, "Platonisme moyen et apologe-
tique chretienne au He siede apo J.-C.: Numenius, Atticus, Justin," Studia
Patristica 15, no. I (1984): 432-41; M. Edwards, "On the Platonic School-
ing of Justin Martyr," pp. 17-34.
18. G. W. Bowersock, Hellenism in Late Antiquity (Ann Arbor, Mich.,
199 6 ), p. 7
19. Heritage and Hellenism. The Reinvention 0/ jewish Tradition (Berkeley,
Calif., 1998), p. 292.
20. Making Men: Sophists and Self-Presentation in Ancient Rome (Princeton, N.].,
1995), pp. xii-xxv. On later developments see P. Brown, Power and Persuasion in
Late Antiquity: Towards a Christian Empire (Madison, Wis., 1992).
21. Swain, Hellenism and Empire, pp. 421-22.

22. Christianity and the Rhetoric 0/ Empire: The Development 0/ Christian
Discourse (Berkeley, Calif., 1991), p. 14.
23. F. MilIar, The Roman Near East 3IB.C-A.D. 337 (Cambridge, Mass.,
1993), p. 246 ; on Lucian's complex, and sometimes critical relation to
Rome, see Swain, Hellenism and Empire, pp. 328-29. C. P. Jones, Culture and
Society in Lucian (Cambridge, Mass., 1986); G. W. Bowersock, Greek Sophists
in the Roman Empire (Oxford, 1969); cf. Gleeson on Favorinus, Making Men,
p. 167.
24. P. Brown contrasted Dodd's "anxiety" concerning rootlessness to "claus-
trophobia" in The Making 0/ Late Antiquity (Berkeley, Calif., 1976), pp. 4-
5. The construction of the "self," therefore, within the diversity of Roman
Hellenism continues to provoke analysis, see for example the discussion of
philosophical self-mastery in M. Foucault, The Care 0/ the Sel/, vol. 3 of The
History 0/ Sexuality (New York, 1988), and the "suffering self' in J. Perkins,
The Su/fering Self: Pain and Narrative Representation in the Early Church Era
(London, 1995). Does Augustine's Confessions represent the final synthesis of
suffering as self-mastery in late antiquity?
25. A typical example of this view is J. T. Burtchaell, From Synagogue to
Church: Public Services and Offices in the Earliest Christian Communities (Cam-
bridge, 1992), p. 312: "The communities could not have survived beyond
their heady, helter-skelter adolescence without a coherent discipline ... The
new overseers were made by the church rather than the other way around."
S. Hall describes the second century in a chapter entitled, "Excess and
Proliferation," in Doctrine and Practice in the Early Church (London, 1991),
pp. 36-48; W. Frend entitled his chapter "Acute Hellenization" in The Rise
0/ Christianity (Philadelphia, 1984), pp. 194f.
26. J. A. Francis, Subversive Virtue: Asceticism and Authority in the Second
Century Pagan World (University Park, Pa., 1995), pp. 21-50. On the Greek
education of Marcus, see E. Fantham, Roman Literary Culture: From Cicero to
Apuleius (Baltimore, 1996), pp. 239-246.
27. G. W. Bowersock discusses the fourth-century origins of "Hellenism"
in Hellenism in Late Antiquity, pp. 10-1 I, as does R. Markus, The End 0/
Ancient Christianity (Cambridge, 1990), p. 28.
28. Swain used the term "defect," noting that the disparagement of the
barbaroi might be asking too much for more and more provincials; "Defend-
ing Hellenism," p. 173.
29. Swain noted that Pythagoreanism made Hellenism "less Greek"; ibid.,
pp. 17-73
30. "The Use of Early Christian Literature as Evidence for Inner Diver-
sity and Conflict," in Nag Hammadi, Gnosticism, and Early Christianity, ed.
c. W. Hedrick and R. Hodgson (Peabody, N.Y, 1986), pp. 189-90; see

further my remarks on "heretical" Christianity and Hellenism in Christology
and Cosmology: Models 0/ Divine Activity in OrigenJ EusebiusJ and Athanasius
(Oxford, 1993), pp. 1-9
31. D. K. Buell recendy argued that if Clement is a "teacher", with
philosophical interests, he must be a predecessor of Arius, i.e. outside an
episcopal community: Making Christians: Clement 0/ Alexandria and the Rhet-
oric 0/ Legitimacy (Princeton, N.)., 1999), p. 182. Frend described the second
century as a time of "the emergence of a Christian orthodoxy representing
a coalition of men and ideas almost as varied as it had been in the previous
period. But it was identifiably a church, whereas its Gnostic opponents
were leaders of schools, whose teaching though centered on Christ, accepted
Scripture as only one source .... " Rise 0/ ChristianitYJ p. 194.
32. See R. Williams, Arius: Heresy and Tradition (London, 1987), pp. 87-
88; D. Brakke, Athanasius and the Politics 0/ Asceticism (Oxford, 1995), pp.
59-68; idem, "Canon Formation and Social Conflict in Fourth Century
Egypt: Athanasius of Alexandria's Thirty-ninth Festal Lette~" Harvard Theo-
logical Review 87 (1994): 395-419; A. Harnack, The Mission and Expansion 0/
Christianity in the First Three Centuries J tr. ). Moffatt (Gloucester" 1972), pp.
3 54-66; ). Lebreton, "Le desaccord de la foi populaire et de la theologie
savante dans l'Eglise chretienne du III siede," Revue dJhistoire ecclesiastique 19
(19 2 3): 4 81 -5 06 , 20 (19 24): 5-37.
33. Die Christlichen Lehrer, pp. 1-8, 236-38.
34. "Diogenes Laertius and the Apostolic Succession," Journal 0/ Ecclesias-
tical History 44 (1993): 347-75; P. Lampe, Die stadtriimischen Christen in den
ersten beiden Jahrhunderten (Tbingen, 1987).
35. See comments of P. Bradshaw, The Search tor the Origins 0/ Christian
Worship (Oxford, 1992), pp. 108-9, I I 1-12.
36. R. Williams, "Does Ir Make Sense to Speak of a Pre-Nicene Ortho-
doxy?" in The Making o/Orthodoxy: Essays in Honour 0/ Henry ChadwickJ ed.
R. Williams (Cambridge, 1989), pp. 1-23; on problems of recovering "pop-
ular piety" to use as a theological norm, see my "Lex Orandi: Heresy, Ortho-
doxy, and Popular Religion," in The Making and Remaking 0/ Christian Doctrine:
Essays in Honour 0/ Maurice Wiles J ed. S. Coakley and D. Palin (New York,
1993), pp. 13 1-42. However, F. Young represents a common, if traditional,
view when she asserts that the "norm" may in fact be found by reading the
"Fathers," Biblical ExegesisJ p. 29.
37. On the problems of Irenaeus as a "bishop," a tide he never used for
himself, the evidence is summarized in M. A. Donovan, One Right Reading?
A Guide to lrenaeus (Collegeville, Md., 1997), p. 9; her comment reflects a
common reading: "Irenaeus functioned as abishop, but he was chary of the
tide. In his day the office seems to have been more clearly developed than
the terminology." For a more critical view, see V. Burrus, "Hierarchalization
and Genderization of Leadership in the Writings of Irenaeus," Studia Patris-
tica 21 (1989): 42-48. A. Grillmeier noted ab out Irenaeus, "He was not a
philosopher as his master Justin was, but above all a biblical theologian,"
Christ in the Christian Tradition, vol. 1, tr. J. Bowden (Atlanta, 1964), p.
100; W. Frend says of Justin that he was "A Platonist before he became a
Christian, he never grasped the essential incompatibilities between Pla-
tonism and Christianity. He assimilated Jesus to the Logos of an eclectic
Platonic and Stoic philosophy arbitrarily," in The Rise o[ Christianity, p. 237;
1. Barnard more defensively sums up Justin as "no mere academic philoso-
pher but a man with a mission . . . . Today, in a very different world, we
need to follow Justin in adhering to, and following the truth, wherever it
may lead, with a confidence in its power while remaining loyal to the
Church and to Christi an tradition"; introduction to his translation of Justin,
The First and Second Apologies, Ancient Christian Writers 56 (New York,
1997), p. 21. Geyer notes Justin's varied labels ("christlicher Platonismus,"
"christliche Philosophie", "hellenisiertes Christentum") as signaling inter-
pretations of culture, Religion und Diskurs, p. 19; Subordination is generally
the error attributed to Platonism in Justin as in Hamman's critical remarks
in "Dialogue," p. 50. Stead minimizes the problem by noting that Justin's
philosophical skills were not particularly great, and in fact "his attachment
to Christianity was in many ways an advantage, as setting hirn new prob-
lems outside the traditional agenda of the Platonic schools"; he is most
importantly a teacher, "one of our Founding Fathers," Philosophy in Christian
Antiquity (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 81-82.
38. Arecent study of apologetic literature concludes that most Christian
works are "hybrids" and their "richness" and "diversity" can only be recov-
ered by understanding the particular historical context of the authors. J .-C.
Fredouille, ''L'apologetique chretienne antique: Naissance d'un genre lit-
teraire," Revue des Etudes Augustiniennes 38 (1992): 219-34, and
''L'apologetique chretienne antique: Metamorphoses d'un genre polymor-
phe," ibid., 41 (1995): 201-26.
39. Asad, Genealogies o[ Religion, p. 7
40. I Apology 1 (tr. Barnard), p. 23.
41. MilIar, The Roman Near East, pp. 227-28; Brown, The Making o[ Late
Antiquity, p. 73.
42. MilIar, The Roman Near East, p. 228.
43. The Greek Apologists o[ the Second Century (Philadelphia, 1988), p. 50;
see 1. Barnard, Justin Martyr: His Lift and Work (Cambridge, 19 67), p. 5:
nothing in his writings suggests that he was familiar with Samaritan

traditions or religion."
44. See Gleason's comments on Favorinus's paideia as diasporic rather
than native, utopian rather than localized; Making lVIen, p. 168.
45. See general comments by Swain in Hellenism and Empire, pp. 7 I, 89,
308. MilIar suggested that ci ti es on the "frontier" were of second rank in
the Greek world, but important to military activity and therefore open to
an exceptional degree of Romanizing influence; The Roman Near East, pp.
234-35
46. I Apology 3 (tr. Barnard, altered), p. 24.
47. Barnard, Justin, p. I I: "He only found the truth after much search-
ing. Ir is therefore natural that he should wear the philosopher's cloak, even
after his conversion, call himself a philosopher and invite men to enter his
school." R. Wilken, The Christians as the Romans Saw Them (New Haven,
Conn., 1984), p. 83: "Justin ... presented his conversion to Christianity as
a conversion to philosophy." See also Young, Biblical Exegesis, pp. 67, and O.
Skarsaune, "The Conversion of Justin Martyr," Theological Studies 30 (1976):
53-73
48. Dial. 2.3-6. The arguments concerning the historicity of Justin's
conversion are summarized in Neymeyr, Die christlichen Lehrer, pp. 17-18;
3 I. Droge discusses these arguments in reference to perceptions of Justin as
a philosopher in "Justin Martyr and the Restoration of Philosophy," in
Studies in Early Christianity, vol. 7, ed. E. Ferguson, D. Scholer, and P. C.
Finney (New York, 1993), pp. 66-68; see also U. Berner, "Die Bekehrung
Justins," Aufstieg und Niedergang der rmischen Welt 17 (1997).
On Justin's gown as a "convention," see remarks above by Barnard in
note 39; Tessa Rajak, critical of his Platonism, describes the duplicity of his
literary genre as weIl as dress: "Like Justin, this tract walks in philosopher's
garb. And, in spite of its unsophisticated and unappealing use of the Greek
language, it has walked effectively." "Talking at Trypho," p. 67. Richard
Lim implies a naive self-deception, "still wearing his philosopher's gown,"
p. 7; Tertullian, ironicalIy, wrote a tract defending the right of Christians to
the pallium.
49. Barnard, Justin Martyr, p. 13. See also Lebreton, "Desaccord de la foi
populaire. "
50. Grant, Greek Apologists, p. 56.
51. The character of Justin's language concerning baptism (I Apol. 61;
65; Dial. 14) has also been much discussed, especially as "apologetic" in
genre, on account of the terminology of "illumination" and "rebirth." See
Bradshaw, Search tor the Origins, pp. 174-75.
52. Act. Just. 2.3. At the conclusion of his conversation with the teacher
in the Dialogue 8, Justin states, "Straightaway a flame was kindled in my
soul; a love of the prophets, and one of these men who are friends of Christ
possessed me, and while turning his words in my mind, I found this phi-
losophy alone to be safe and profitable. Thus, for this reason, I am a philos-
opher." In The Ante-Nicene Fathers! vol. I, ed. A. Roberts and J. Donaldson
(Grand Rapids, Mich., 1981), p. 198.
53. Mark Edwards has defended Justin's integrity as "an intelligent but
sceptical disciple . . . one who on the eve of a great conversion is already
beginning to calculate the distance between his master's thoughts and his
own ... " in "Platonic Schooling of Justin Martyr," pp. 21, 29-30. He notes
that neither J ustin's knowledge of Greek philosophy nor his martyrdom was
in doubt, "Justin's Logos," p. 280.
54. See Droge, Homer or Moses? pp. 70-7 I, 198; for Jus tin and Nume-
nius, see Le Boulluec, La notion d!heresie! pp. 50-54; 63; Edwards, "Platonic
Schooling of Justin Martyr"; H. Drrie, "Die Wertung der Barbaren im
Urteil der Griechen," in Antike und Universalgeschichte: Festschrift fr H. E.
Stier (Mnster, 1967), pp. 146-75.
55. Droge, Homer or Moses?; J. H. Wazink, "Some Observations on the
Appreciation of the 'Philosophy of the Barbarians' in Early Christian Liter-
ature," in Melanges offerts a Mademoiselle Christine Mohrmann (Utrecht, 1963),
pp. 41-56; R. Mordey, The ldea 0/ Universal History /rom Hellenistic Philoso-
phy to Early Church Historiography (Philadelphia, 1996).
56. Bowersock, Hellenism in Late Antiquity! p. 8.
57. J ustin's definition is found in Dial. 8. I: "I found this philosophy
alone to be safe and profitable." Christianity is the original truth which
precedes all philosophers: I Apol. 44-46, 60; 2 Apol. 10. On the Pythagore-
an beliefs about ancient wisdom, see Droge, Homer or Moses? p. 91; Swain,
"Defending Hellenism," pp. 170-73.
58. See far example comments by Remus on cultic piety as opposed to
philosophy, "Justin Martyr," pp. 63-65; Rajak, "Talking at Trypho," pp.
66-7 1 .
59. Edwards describes Justin's original reflection on the Logos as not
derivative from philosophy, but his own construction based on biblical texts
and philosophical images; "Platonic Schooling of Justin Martyr," pp. 24-
25. Bhabha noted in his discussion of "hybridity," using the Hindi Bible as
an example, that the "paradigmatic presence of the Word of God" was
preserved, but the logical order of the discourse of authority, i.e. the dominance
of the English missionaries, was altered, in The Location 0/ Culture! p. 119.
60. I Apology 14 (tr. Barnard), p. 32; Irenaeus preserves an interesting
fragment from Justin's now lost work against Marcion: "I would not have
believed the Lord hirnself if he had announced any other than He who is our
framer, maker, and nourisher. But because the only begotten Son came to us
from the one God ... my faith's foundation is steadfast and my love for
God immovable." Against Heresies 4.6.2.
61. 2 Apology 13 (tr. Barnard), p. 83.
62. Droge, Honzer or Moses? p. 53; see I Apol. 9-10, 54-55: myths imi-
tate Christ incorrecdy, but Plato, if not understanding completely, got some
things right.
63. Compare Dial. 47 with I Apol. 24-25, 59-60.
64. See Droge, Honzer or Moses? pp. 72-79; Mordey, Idea 0/ Universal
HistorYJ pp. 65-66; see comments by Bhabha on the gulf between being
"Anglicanized" and being "English," in The Loeation 0/ CttltureJ p. 154.
Some ] ews would of course have the same reaction; see D. Boyarin, "] ustin
Martyr Invents ]udaism," Chureh History 70, no. 3 (Spring 2001): 427-61.
65. Le Boulluec, La notion dJheresieJ p. 36.
66. Ibid., pp. 35-36.
67. Arecent review article of the scholarship on the development of the
term hairesis is Michel Desjardin, "Bauer and Beyond: On Recent Scholarly
Discussions of Hairesis in the Early Christian Era," Seeond Century 8 (1991):
65-82 .
68. Le Boulluec, La notion dJheresieJ pp. 62-63, 49-56; cf. I Apol. 10;
Droge, Honzer or Moses? p. 71.
69. I Apology 58 (tr. Barnard), p. 64; cf. 26, 62; Dial. 69, 80.
70. See Francis's comments on "superstition": "The use of the term in antiq-
uity is notoriously slippery. Simply speaking, superstitio seems to be operationally
defined as 'a religious expression of which one disapproves' ... any belief or
practice foreign to, or exceeding the bounds of, traditional religion, which by
implication, is also seen as inimical to or destructive of religion." Subversive
VirtueJ p. 149; on magic as the common charge to discredit an opponent socially
and religiously, see R. Gordon, "Imagining Greek and Roman Magic," in Witeh-
craft and Magie in Europe: Ancient Greece and RonzeJ ed. B. Ankarloo and S. Clark
(Philadelphia, 1999), p. 217; cf. Droge on second-century Christian discussion
of "counterfeit," in Honzer or Moses? p. 98.
71. I Apology 53 (tr. Barnard), p. 60. For the argument on the Christian
invention of a nonlocative "religion," see M. Sachot, L'invention du Christ:
Genese dJune religion (Paris, 1998).
72. 2 Apology 13 (tr. Barnard), p. 84.
73. Le Boulluec, La notion dJheresieJ p. 118.
74. Grant, The Greek ApologistsJ pp. 112-13.
75. "We reject all that is based on human opinion; and not only the rich
philosophize, but the poor also enjoy teaching without charge .... All who
wish to philosophize are at horne with us; we do not scrutinize appearances

or judge those who come to us by their looks .... " Oratio ad Graecos 2, tr.
M. Whittaker (Oxford, 1982), pp. 59-61. Christianity as paideia has no
divisions (p. 27) and is open to all (pp. 32-33). Greek philosophy is divided
against itself (pp. 3, 25-27), denies diversity of origins (p. I), and by
allegOry subverts its own religion and gods (p. 2 I).
76. Le Boulluec, La notion d!heresie! p. 124; cf. Against Heresies 2.9.1.
77. Stead summarized the mixed analysis by scholars of Irenaeus, in
Philosophy in Christian Antiquity! pp. 90-94.
78. Against Heresies Pref. 2.
79. Le Boulluec, La notion d!heresie! pp. 89, 118; Williams follows R.
JJ
Stark in Rethinking uGnosticism An Argument for Dismantling a Dubious
;
Category (Princeton, N.J., 1996), pp. 106-7.

80. Le Boulluec discusses these qualities in La notion d!heresie! pp. 186-
87
8 I. "Such contradictory articulations of reality and desire-seen in racist
stereotypes, statements, jokes, myths-are the effects of a disavowal that
denies the differences of the Other but produces in its stead forms of author-
ity and multiple belief that alienate the assumptions of "civiI" discourse ....
superstition, spurious authorities, and classifications can be seen as the des-
perate effort to 'normalize' fornzally the disturbance of the discourse of split-
ting that violates the rational, enlightened claims of its enunciatory modality."
The Location of Culture! p. 91.
82. For further discussion of "essential" Christianity in late antiquity see
my "Historical Methodologies and Ancient Theological Conflicts," in The
Papers of the Henry Luce III Fellows in Theology! vol. 3, ed. M. Zyniewicz
(Atlanta, 199 8 ), pp. 75--'-95.
83. Richard Lim contras ted the essentially "dogmatic" character of Chris-
tianity to Hellenistic philosophy, drawing on E. R. Dodds, Tertullian, Gib-
bon, Celsus, and Porphyry; not surprisingly, intra-Christian debates were
caused by "intellectuals," that is, heretics in debate with dogmatic ortho-
doxy: Public Disputation! pp. 8-16, 20.
84. Hamman suggests the double loyalty of Jus tin is focused in the
single lasting name of "Martyr" in "Dialogue," p. 50. On Justin's conscious
literary imitation of Socrates, see Fredouille, ''L'apologetique ... naissance
d'un genre," p. 203; E. Benz, "Christus und Sokrates in der alten Kirche,"
Zeitschrift fr die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde des Urchristentums
43 (1950): 195-22 4; C. ]. De Vogel, "Problems concerning Justin Martyr,"
Mnenzosyne 3 I (1978): 360-88.
3
CONVERSION AND BURIAL IN THE LATE ROMAN EMPIRE
ERle REBILLARD
John North, writing on the various religious groups shaping the evolution
of paganism from the second century C.E., re marks that "the most sensitive
criterion available to us as to the degree of commitment asked by a cult ...
would be the incidence of conflict with the families of members."l The
question of the choice of burial place is decisive, therefore, since burial, in
that society, was first and foremost a family affair. Statistical studies of
funerary inscriptions pertaining to the civilian population in the Western
Roman Empire show in fact that, whenever it was thought pertinent to
state the relationship to the deceased of the individuals who took care of the
burial and the epitaph, 80 percent were spouses, parents, children, or sib-
lings. This percentage increases from the fourth century onwards, but the
samples examined from the period are all Christian and thus less represen-
tative of the whole. 2 Even if epigraph dedications do not pertain to every
stratum of the Roman population, the figures do lead to the conclusion that
it was traditionally the family, indeed the nuclear family, that shouldered
responsibility for burial of its members in the Roman Empire. The question
might be asked whether the emergence of new cults and, in their wake, of
new religious groups resulted in tension between the family and the reli-
gious group on the subject of burial choice. Did, for example, conversion to
a particular religion, that is to say, adherence to a group whose primary
purpose was to promote the cult of one or more divinities, mean that the
convert had to choose to be buried among his fellow believers rather than
amidst his family; in short, in a specific, distinct sepulchre?
"MYSTERY CULTS," "ORIENTAL CULTS," NEW CULTS
For Franz Cumont, it was patently obvious that conversion went hand in
hand with the election of a specific burial site. In a discussion of the adepts
61
of Mithras, he noted that "In such closed religious groupings, where every-
one knew everyone else and each helped his neighbor, the abiding feeling
was of being in one big family.... after death, each was probably laid in
a collective grave."3
The origin of statements of this kind is a document which, though it
dates from the fifth century B.C.E., constitutes the necessary point of depar-
ture of all discussions of the funerary practices of such cults: the famous
inscription from Cumae that seems to point to a special burial site reserved
for the initiates of Bacchus. 4 The text proclaims-and in terms that extend,
as they evoke religious sanction, beyond mere sublunary law-that it is
forbidden for a noninitiate to be entombed in the place, the necessary
condition for burial apparently being conversion to the cult. Following
Cumont, a number of scholars have seen this inscription as offering proof
that the Dionysian societies possessed their own burial grounds. 5 It is also
necessary, however, to examine the archaeological context of the inscrip-
tion. 6 It does not appear on a stele, but is carved on the inner face of the
tufa gravestone that served as a lid. This means that the inscription could
never have been read from the exterior. Despite the strict religious prohibi-
tion that it records, the function of the Cumae inscription probably differed
little from Orphic inscriptions on gold tablets whose primary purpose was
to proclaim salvation. Rather than an interdict, the inscription provides a
"link between initiation and the world beyond. "7 Moreover, archaeology has
unearthed further examples of tombs which demonstrate that separate buri-
al was not in fact the rule: in Calabria, for example, at Vibo Valentia (the
antique Hipponion), the tomb of an Orphic initiate has been found among
tombs of noninitiates in the same necropolis. 8 It was similarly long believed
that in Taranto, an area comprising one hundred tombs laid out very reg-
ularly formed aburial site for a Pythagorean community. Archaeologists
erroneously thought that what had been unearthed in the middle of the
necropolis was the tomb of Archytas, the fourth-century B.C.E. Pythagorean
strategius of Taranto. Recently, it was proved that the tomb belongs to a
female and dates from the beginning of the second century B.C.E., making
it impossible to associate this group of tombs with Pythagoreanism. 9 An-
cient data, therefore, do not support the notion of the separation of the dead
by religion.
From an analysis of epitaphs whose dedicatees belonged to one of the new
cults in the Roman Empire, Burkert concludes that "individual distinction
prevailed over group identity."l0 Such inscriptions, however, occur very in-
frequently compared to our other evidence regarding the diffusion of these
cults, and the dedicatees are almost exclusively priests. It therefore does not
seem to have been especially pertinent in the case of mere adepts to signal
CONVERSION AND BURIAL
adherence to the cult on funerary inscriptions. Consequently, we may con-

clude that the new cults rarely ente red into conflict with the family as
regards their members' choice of tomb.
There is nothing to indicate that the worshipers, of Mithras had collective
graves. At Gross-Krotzenburg, ne ar Hanau in Germany, the tombs discov-
ered near the Mithraeum are not, as was formerly believed, the remains of
a Mithraic cemetery, because they reuse blocks from the Mithraeum's wallsY
In Italy and Gaul, epitaphs attest to scattered examples of individual sepul-
chres, but none of these contains stipulations for the form of a Mithraic
tomb, and the dedicators are all closely related to the deceased. 12 Thus it
seems that the choice of a family tomb would not necessarily conflict with
the requirements of conversion to the Mithraic cult. Those who opted to
worship the Thracian divinity Sabazios also did not specify their religious
affiliation in their epitaphs. 13 They did, however, form associations which
financed burial for their members. Evidence for this comes from a first-
century B.C.E. stele on Rhodes, on which a certain Ariston of Syracuse
receives honors for the devotion and the care he lavished on the tombs
belonging to the association. The stele was found in the context of a pair of
contiguous burial chambers that might well be a monument of the Sabazi-
ast association. 14 The evidence is insufficient, however, for the conclusion to
be drawn that a Sabaziast graveyard as such existed. There is no specific
indication of the need for separate burial. Another piece of evidence shows
that an association of Sabaziasts in Teos in Asia Minor (modern Sigacik,
Turkey) endowed tombs for its members' wives although they themselves
had no connection with the cult. 15
The cult of Cybele provides more ample material. A public cult that was
introduced officially in Rome in 204 B.C.E., the cult of Cybele, closely
linked to that of Attis, was organized around a special clergy attached to the
sanctuary, known as the ga/li} Roman officials, and associations (the dendro-
phori and cannophori), the latter officiating at the major annual festivals held
in March. The majority of the funerary inscriptions preserved concern galli}
priests, or members of official associations, but a number indicate that
general worshipers of Cybele and Attis marked their affiliation in epitaphs
by calling themselves religiosi. 16 One inscription is particularly interesting.
From Puteoli (Pozzuoli) in Campania and likely dating from the second
century C.E., it mentions a "field of believers" (ager religiosorum) in which
Caius Iulius Aquilinus had a porti co erected and some seats installed at his
own expenseY What exactly does this expression ager religiosorum designate?
Ir might well signify a "funerary garden," as referred to in various epitaphs,
in which there stand, next to one or more mortuary monuments, various
constructions intended for the cult of the dead or simply for social
gatherings. 18 But the term eould just as well refer more generally to a
meeting plaee, portieos and seats being mentioned frequently in sueh eon-
texts. 19 As this inseription was diseovered out of its original eontext, it is
impossible to deeide one way or the other.
Another inseription from Pozzuoli refers to a field measuring seven jugeri
(more than a heetare), whieh is the property of "members of the eorporation
of the faithful of Jupiter Heliopolitanus." Onee again, a speeifieally funereal
role of the land eoneerned is not explieitly stated; the inseription mentions
a eistern and taverns and stresses only the right to enter the field, without
mentioning the use to whieh the site might have been put. Ir is therefore
not neeessary to see it as a "private eemetery."20 Felix Hettner ventured a
hypothesis aeeording to whieh a similar eemetery existed on the Roman
Aventine for worshipers of Jupiter Doliehenus (from Doliehe, modern Dlek,
Turkey), where a eonsiderable quantity of material has been unearthed from
a temple. The only inseription Hettner advaneed as referring specifieally to
the eemetery eannot, however, be explieitly assoeiated with the eult. His
argument rests wholly on the parallel drawn with the Pozzuoli inseription. 21
No epitaph pertaining to a regular member of the Jupiter Doliehenus eon-
gregation is known and the three epitaphs belonging to priests that survive
bear no indieations as to the plaee of burial. 22
All in all, it would seem that eonversion to one or other of the Oriental
eults did not entail the ehoiee of a speeial burial plaee assoeiated with the
new religious eommunity.
THE ]EWS
Conversion to Judaism had been illegal in the Roman Empire sinee 198-99
C.E., if evidenee in the Historia Augusta on Septimus Severus is to be be-
lieved, and at least sinee the third eentury C.E., sinee Paul's SententiaeJ eom-
piled around 295, mention legislation that punishes eonverts with exile and
eonfiseation of property. The Theodosian Code preserves a number of impe-
rial eonstitutions of the fourth and fifth eenturies that forbid eonversion to
J udaism, legal aets whieh demonstrate that eonversions did indeed oeeur. 23
However, the number of attested proselytes remains relatively low. The only
inseriptions relating to eonverts to Judaism eome from Rome. 24 Harry J.
Leon lists seven eases, four of whieh eome from the Jewish eataeombs, two
from the Vigna Randanini Cataeomb on the Via Appia and two from eat-
aeombs in the Villa Torlonia on the Via Nomentana. No inseription belong-
ing to a sympathizer, however, has ever been found in the eataeombs, a faet
that led Leon to eonclude that whereas proselytes earned the right to a
CONVERSION AND BURIAL 65
]ewish grave, sympathizers were exduded. 25 An exception to the rule would

appear to be an inscription from Venosa, in Basilicata. There a certain
Marcus, referred to as a theuseues-a Latin transcription of the Greek signi-
fying "God-fearing," an epithet normally reserved for sympathizers-lies in
a tomb dug within a sm all hypogeum next to the great J ewish catacomb of
La Magdalena, a site known since the mid-nineteenth century.26 Was this
sympathizer actually buried, as has often been repeated, in a ]ewish ceme-
tery?27 The ]ewish character of the other inscriptions from the hypogeum
has always been accepted, but it is by no means beyond question. In fact,
unlike in the inscriptions discovered in the great catacomb, not a single
]ewish symbol or word of Hebrew has ever been found. The titles pater and
pater patrum are not in themselves specificalIy]ewish; they might be Mith-
raic titles, and hence possibly related to the snake and other symbols carved
at the entrance to the hypogeum. 28 Moreover, it should be noted that the
hilI of La Magdalena is peppered with hypogea, most of which remain to be
excavated, and thatJews and Christians were inhumed there side by side for
centuries. 29 The whole notion of a "] ewish cemetery" is to be treated in this
case with the utmost caution.
More subtle forms of separate burial are imaginable, as in the case of one
Aurelia Artemeis Ioudea of Termessos. In the epitaph he composed for his
daughter, M. Aurelios Hermaios wrote that the sarcophagus was destined
for "his daughter Aurelia Artemeis, Jewess, for her alone," and stipulated a
fine in the event of violation. 30 The epithet Ioudea may indicate that Aurelia
Artemeis was indeed a proselyte, especially since the epitaph of her unde
M. Aurelios Moles, buried in a sarcophagus near her in the same tomb,
contains no indication of J udaismY The word mone, too, has also been the
subject of some comment: 1. Robert notes that it "marks a firm inten-
tion,"32 though he does not venture to say what that intention might be;
Margaret H. Williams believes that the term implies "the separateness of
her burial."33 Aurelia Artemeis had a sarcophagus of her own, whereas, for
example, her unde shared his with his wife. The two sarcophagi, however,
lay not far apart in the same tomb. 34 Ir is quite impossible to assert with
confidence that this separation is linked to Aurelia Artemeis's conversion,
especially because it was her own father who was responsible for her burial
arrangements.
In the past, the very few extant examples of converts' and sympathizers'
burials were all discussed from the point of view that ] ews were indeed
buried separately. Yet all we know for certain of ] ewish mortuary practices
in the Diaspora and of the way their graves were organized points to the fact
that this was not necessarily the case. 35 Archaeologists and epigraphists are
generally more circumspect than previously in the identification of ]ewish
graves or inscriptions. 36 Thanks to work in this area, as weH as to the

abandonment of the preconceived idea that Jews kept themselves apart,37 it
is now accepted that Jewish and non-Jewish tombs often lay in the same
funerary areas.
In Asia Minor, where Jewish communities are weH documented,38 not a
single Jewish cemetery has been identified to date. An inscription discov-
ered at Tlos in Lycia, dated to the first century C.E., records a gift of a
funerary monument made to the city's J ewish community by a certain
Ptolemaeus, who erected it at his own expense for hirnself and for his son. 39
This type of euergetism, though rare, is nonetheless attested elsewhere and
does not necessarily evince a community burial area. The donation simply
meant that the Jewish community became the owners of a tomb. 40 Wher-
ever the facts can be ascertained, Jewish graves seem to have been genuinely
mixed with those of non-Jews. This is the case, for example, at both Hier-
apolis and Corycus. 41 The large number of epitaphs containing imprecations
against tomb robbers found at Acmonia has been proposed as an argument
in favor of the existence of a Jewish cemetery in the cityY The curses refer
to texts from Deuteronomy or to divine vengeance, powers that would a
priori have been expected to offer scant deterrent to non-Jews. 43 The curses,
however, are actually carved for their own performative power, and not for
the genuine terror they might have instiHed in the hearts of tomb robbers
who might eventually read them. 44 Two Jewish inscriptions from Asia Mi-
nor also record funds set up for associations, though nothing indicates that
these were exclusively Jewish affairs. In one of them, from Hierapolis, P.
Ailios Glykon donates money to two associations to put wreaths on his
tomb: purple-dyers for Passover and carpet-weavers for Pentecost and Cal-
ends. 45 In the other, this time from Acmonia, Aurelius Aristeas bequeaths
some land to a neighborhood association, called the "Neighborhood of the
First Gate," in order that they might festoon the tomb of his wife with roses
every year. 46 Celebrating the rosalia and crowning tombs with roses were
widespread traditional forms of commemoration in the Greco-Roman world.
That J ews too adopted such practices again presupposes a greater degree of
integration into society than was previously acknowledged by scholars in
the past and makes it decidedl y difficult to argue that funerary segregation
was actually the ruleY As these examples from Asia Minor ShOW,48 Jews
were in the habit of burying their dead in the same areas as pagans and
Christians .
The situation in the larger cities of the empire may weH have been
different. More numerous and more powerful urban Jewish communities are
today often credited with having had their own burial grounds. The ancient
J ewish necropolis of Alexandria, found at EI Ibrahimiya, however, seems to
have been a place where both Jews and non-Jews who had some relationship
to each other were interred. 49 At Carthage, the necropolis of Gamart has
been found to be less extensive than formerly believed. In fact, it is now
known to contain only two hundred tombs and cannot therefore be the one
and only Jewish necropolis of Carthage, but merely a small agglomeration
of hypogea occupied by members of that community.50 The situation in
Rome is better documented if also more complex. The six known J ewish
catacombs are in burial areas also used by pagans and Christians, but nearly
all scholars are of the opinion that each of the separate catacombs was
reserved for the exclusive use of the Jewish community.51 Although this
assumption is quite impossible to prove, the evidence to the contrary is not
sufficiently strong. 52 The implication is that at Rome, from the end of the
second century (the period in which these catacombs began to be used), the
J ewish population preferred to be buried together.
According to Harry J. Leon, the choice of catacomb seems to have de-
pended on an individual's synagogue affiliation. 53 Margaret H. Williams,
however, has recendy demonstrated that there exists but one synagogue
whose known members are all interred together in a single catacomb, and
that the members of at least three synagogues used several different cata-
combs. 54 Moreover, no inscriptions have been found attributing a role to a
synagogue in the selection or assignment of a grave. Most often, they sim-
ply indicate in which synagogue the dedicatee exercised an office mentioned
in the epitaph. The idea that the choice of a grave's location might be
determined by which synagogue the deceased belonged to can thus be
dismissed; a form of centralized system is even more difficult to envisage. 55
Margaret H. Williams voices the hypothesis that the J ewish populations,
like their contemporary pagan counterparts, might have purchased their
graves from "funerary complex developers" who would take on the expense
of preparing the underground spaces of the catacombs, divide the space into
more or less sizeable funerary chambers or simple tombs, and then seIl
them. 56 The catacombs at Beth She' ar im in Palestine may weIl have been
managed in this fashion. 57 In Rome, however, and unlike the situation in
Christian catacombs,58 Jewish inscriptions mention neither the sale of a
tomb nor its tide deeds, facts which might point to the role of these
developers. More generally, such consortia unfortunately remain insufficient-
ly researched.
At the beginning of the last century, Jean Juster argued for the concep-
tion of "the confessional separatism oE corpses" as a specifically Jewish
phenomenon. 59 To justify this assertion Juster simply notes a few inscrip-
tions whose wording presents numerous parallels with both pagan and
Christian examples in which the subject is certainly ius sepulchri but not
"confessional separatism."60 As for rabbinical teaching, no rules concerning

the separation of lews and non-lews at burial are stipulated. The treatise
Semahot, which seems to have been composed in the third century and
whose sole subject is death and mourning, includes no such interdicts. At
most the treatise prescribes that "in the case of heathens and slaves, no rites
should be observed, but one should participate at the lamentation." 61 This
means, not that non-lews should be refused interment, but that no ritual
displays of mourning should be provided for them. Moreover, the Tosefta
(third to fourth centuries) and the ]erusalem Talmud (fifth century) both
recommend that in cities in which a ]ewish population lives among a
substantial proportion of pagans, the ] ews should do their best to provide
graves for the poor whether of the ]ewish faith or not, but neither text gives
any indication as to place of buria1. 62 No impurity appears to be attached to
Gentile burial places; on the other hand, their dwellings may weIl present
a source of contamination in so far as aborted fetuses might be buried in
their vicinity.63 As we read in a discussion of the Sabbath, if a Gentile digs
a tomb for a lew on the Sabbath day, the latter cannot use it, but if the
tomb was dug for a Gentile, then a lew can employ it. A lew should not
make a Gentile work for hirn on the Sabbath day, but there is nothing to
prevent hirn being interred in a tomb originally intended for a non-]ew. 64
Even though neither the Mishna nor the Tosefta should be interpreted as
documents relating directly to the interaction between lews and non-]ews,65
nothing points to a rule of funerary segregation.
In short, the choice of grave seems to fall more to the family, in accor-
dance with the instructions of the Old Testament. The founding event is
Abraham's purchase of the Tomb of the Patriarchs at Hebron (Gen. 23).
Possession of a place where the dead can be buried is a consistently recur-
ring theme. It is ]acob's wish in Gen. 49:29-31 to be interred near his
forefathers, in the same place where he hirnself buried his wife, Leah, which
was in the field where Abraham and Sarah lay, together with Isaac and
Rebecca. ]oseph too makes his family swear they will carry his "bones from
hence," and back to the country of Abraham (Gen. 5:25). Gideon and
Samson, too, were interred in the tomb of their fathers (Judg. 8:32, 16:31).
David placed the bones of Saul, Jonathan, and those of the seven men
hanged in Gibeah in the tomb of Saul's own father, Kish (2 Sam. 2 I: 12-14).
It can be concluded, therefore, that there are no hard and fast doctrinal mIes
regarding the choice of grave: the model followed is merely that of family
burial. Of course, it must be noted that in the case of the ]ewish faith, the
distinction between family and community is not as clear as it is with devotees
of the cult of Mithras or of Cybele. For the lews, burial with the family or
amongst people of the same religion is one and the same thing.
What is the explanation, then, for the grouping of family graves in the
same catacomb in Rome? The idea that it originated in adesire to be clearly
differentiated from non-Jews 66 seems to be contradicted by an absence of
parallels elsewhere among the Jewish communities of the Diaspora, though
perhaps the sheer scale of the Eternal City might account for variants in
.social behavior. 67
However that may be, conversion to Judaism seems not to have entailed
a priari the abandonment of familial mortuary practices, nor the choice of
a specific burial place.
THE CHRISTIANS
Finally, the question of conversion to Christianity and its relation to the

choice of aburial place remains to be addressed. H. Delehaye writes in Les
origines du culte des martyrs that "the custom, which soon became widespread,
of not mixing their graves with those of heathens but of reserving special
burial plots for themselves was far from being without precedent. Other
associations or groups had introduced similar forms of solidarity after death
into their own customs. "68 Like many scholars, he entertains no doubts:
Christians were interred together and separately from members of other
confessions. A number of texts which are referred to in support of this
concept of "funerary separatism" need to be examined first. 69
A phrase from De Idololatria by Tertullian (d. c. 220) has often been lifted
out of context in this conn~ction: "We may live with the heathens, die with
them we may not."70 Tertullian is commenting on I Cor. 10: 14ff. in which
St. Paul explains that, though idolatry must naturally be spurned at all
costs, the Christian should also avoid giving offense to the heathen. It is, far
instance, permitted to accept a nonbeliever's invitation to dine and to con-
sume whatever is served without scruple, but if the food is offered as part
of a sacrificial meal, then it must be refused. Tertullian concludes: "Where
there is social intercourse, which is permitted by the apostle, there is also
sinning, which is permitted by no one. We may live with the heathens, die
with them we may not. "71 The death Tertullian is referring to is that which
results from sin: the second phrase is thus arestatement of the first, and is not
to be taken as an ordinance prohibiting certain burial places to Christians.
Another piece of evidence from Tertullian, this time of an indirect na-
ture, is occasionally put forward. It is the passage in Ad Scapulam J an open
letter addressed to Scapula, proconsul of Africa (2 I 1-13), protesting against
the persecutions in 2 12. Tertullian alerts the persecutor to divine vengeance
and quotes from an episode during the persecutions of 202 in which the
population of Carthage attacked the Christians by desecrating their graves:

"This is what happened, for instance, when Hilarianus was governor. At
that time, the populace protested about the areas [areis] in which our graves
were situated-'No areas for them!'-but it was they who were deprived of
their areas: for they harvested no cropS."72 Tertullian's purpose is to eite a
suffieiently gripping example of divine vengeance on pagan oppression of
the Christians. He had at his disposal two "actual" events: pagan desecra-
tion of Christian burial grounds and the shortages occasioned by the crops
fai li ng . He combines the two in a pun on the word area that has both the
very common meaning of "threshing floor" and another, weIl attested in
epigraphy, of a (funerary) "enclosure." Tertullian thus provides evidence of
the existence of funerary enclosures clearl y identified as being Christian, if
not by archaeologists, then at least by their owners and contemporaries. 73
The choice of an enclosure is not of itself significant since the pagans
possessed them too: on this basis, it is therefore unwarranted to ascribe to
Christians adesire to separate their dead from the pagan. 74
It is in this context that a letter written by Cyprian of Carthage (d. 258)
should be examined. It may not offer confirmation of the existence of teach-
ings encouraging the separate burial of Christians, but it does furnish a
number of details on the implications for mortuary practice of conversion to
Christianity. The letter is a response of Cyprian and his African colleagues
to the Spanish communities of Astorga-leon and Merida on the subject of
the bishops Basilides and Martialis, who had obtained "certificates of idol-
atry" allowing them to escape the persecutions of Decius (c. 250) without
taking part in the sacrifices themselves. Their churches nonetheless judged
their conduct unacceptable and had them deposed. 75 Because Basilides had
requested and obtained the support of Stephen, the bishop of Rome, the
Spanish prelates decided to contact their African colleagues. The two bish-
ops' misdeeds were not, however, confined to obtaining these "certificates."
The case of Martialis, in particular, was aggravated by his belonging to a
collegium. Not only had the bishop attended banquets at the collegium, but he
had also applied to the same collegium to ensure the burial of his sons.
Cyprian's words all too clearly voice his indignation: "He placed his sons in
the same college, after the manner of foreign nations, among profane sepul-
chres, and buried them together with strangers."76
The forceful way in which Cyprian depicts pagan rites as being alien to
Christians is noteworthy, but the key to interpreting his indignation is the
role played by the collegium. The collegia were particularly sought after for
the pompa funebris provided for their members. 77 Martialis did not only
apply to the collegium for the funeral of his sons, but also obtained tombs in
its locus sepulturae, that is, in the monument or area it owned for the burial
CONVERSION AND BURIAL 7 I
of its members. 78 The choice of such a sepulchre had religious repercussions

since the members of a collegium commemorated their dead collectively, and
on such occasions performed libations and sacrifices expressly forbidden to
Christians. 79 The scandal occasioned by the proximity of tombs belonging
to nonbelievers does not reflect a principle of total segregation of Christians
and pagans after death. Cyprian's letter does not condemn in general the
juxtaposition of pagan and Christian tombs ir: the same necropolis, but
censures more specifically the recourse to a pagan collegium for funeral and
grave. The letter suggests, therefore, that a convert to Christianity may
have been expected to forgo prior arrangements for funeral and burial to
which he had a right through a collegium.
The first interdict forbidding the mixing of pagan and Christian graves
seems to be that of Charlemagne in 782, proclaimed in the Capitulatio de
partibus Saxoniae, a collection of measures directed at the recently van-
quished Saxons. "We hereby command," he says, "that the bodies of Saxon
Christians be inhumed in the cemeteries of the church and not in pagan
tumuli."80 As B. Effros has rightly pointed out, the intention behind Char-
lemagne's edict was not to enforce a Christian practice, but to attack a
powerful symbol of the Saxon nobility by outlawing its traditional funerary
customs. 81 It is impossible to assert that the exclusive nature of Christian
burial places dates back to ancient times. The church seems to have left the
question of burial up to the family and not to have sought to interfere with
i ts wishes in this area.
Since ecclesiastical teaching makes no such recommendations, are there any

clues in other sources attesting to a specific Christian preference for burial
with fellow believers? Christians did not make any religious stipulation for
being buried in a family or hereditary sepulchre. It is as weIl, however, to
briefly discuss two apparent exceptions to this tendency. The first is an
inscription published by De Rossi in r865 that allows burial for freed slaves
and their descendants in the family mausoleum as long as they belong to
the same religion as their master. 82 Paleographical analysis dates the inscrip-
tion to the end of the second century. Insofar as it was discovered among
pagan inscriptions or fragments of inscriptions in the Villa Patrizi on the
Nomentana, bereft of any exact archeological context, its specifically Chris-
tian character is difficult to affirm. For De Rossi, sufficient grounds were
provided by the use of the expression religio mea. Yet, as we have seen,
adepts of Cybele, as weIl as those of the goddess Isis, also employed the
word religio, when referring to their cult, and even styled themselves religi-
OSi. 83 Whatever the precise situation, subscription to a particular religion is
less important than being a freed slave (or one of the descendants of a freed
slave) of Valerius Mercurius and his wife. The monument thus remains
simply a family tomb.
The same might be said of the tomb that Marcus Antonius Restitutus
recorded as constructing "for hirnself and his own [suis} faithful in the
Lord. "84 This epitaph comes from the Catacomb of Domi tilla at Rome, but
an accurate account of the discovery is not forthcoming: it might have
originated in a me re cubiculum or come from a more extensive group.85 It is
difficult to determine whether the expression "faithful in the Lord" is a
restrictive phrase meaning "so long as they remain faithful in the Lord," or
is simply a declaration of their faith. 86
Mortuary funds dedicated to fellow Christians are not particularly nu-
merous. One example is that of Faltonia Hilaritas, "who built this cemetery
(coemeterium) at her own expense and gave it to her religion (huhic religio-
ni)."87 The inscription was reused on another tomb found in the vicinity of
the small funerary basilica at Solluna, in the territory of what was ancient
Velitrae, not far from Rome, on the Appian Way.88 Since the marble slab
showed marks of having been affixed to a hook, its discoverer believes that
the inscription was originally hung up at the entrance to the basilica which
Faltonia probably donated to her fellow believers. As the context of the
inscription cannot be taken for granted, this hypothesis, though appealing,
is scarcely demonstrable. Even if it were true, what Faltonia did was simply
to open the doors of a funerary basilica that she had paid for to house her
own tomb, and did not in fact found a communal burying place.
A celebrated inscription from Cherchel in Algeria (ancient Caesarea) records
a gift of burial ground to the church made by a pious euergete, the most
illustrious Severianus. 89 The original titulus has not been preserved, only a
commemorative inscription of the donation carved by order of the Church
of Caesarea. Paleographically, the inscription dates from the fourth century,
but Severianus's donation might well antedate the Peace of the Church. The
circumstances surrounding the find are unknown: 9o any description of the
area is therefore entirely dependent on the inscription. Severianus, dubbed,
rather poetically, cultor uerbi, selected a plot as a graveyard and built a cella
there at his own cost. The whole plot-structure is referred to as a memoria,
that is to say a (monumental) tomb. The term cella is rather imprecise. As
no martyr is mentioned in the commemorative inscription, we can exclude
the possibility that the chapel had been dedicated to martyrs. Cella signifies
either the tomb itself or the edifice in which it was housed, a place that
would also have been used for the performance of funerary rites.
Gifts like those made by Faltonia and Severianus are not expressions of a
desire to separate Christians from non-Christians in death, but instead acts
of euergetism that bear comparison with similar deeds by their pagan con-
temporaries. The same can be said of a further inscription at Cherchel that
originated with a priest, a certain Victor, who had an accubitoriunz made to
lodge several tombs, including that of his own mother, Rogata. He donated
the accubitoriunz to "all the brothers."91 Another example resembling pagan
euergetism comes from a Lydian inscription dated to the fourth century that
records how Gennadios purchased a monument "with what God had seen fit
to give hirn," endowing it as a "tomb for the Christians of the Catholic
Church. "92 The fact that the church was chosen, as it were, to serve as
intermediary between the donator and the eventual beneficiaries of his gift
is remarkable, but such gifts in no way entail that the Christians are con-
cerned to be buried together and separately from others .
. Conversion to Christianity does not appear to involve the choice of a
particular place of burial. This is not the place to list all the localities where
a mix of pagan, Christian, and J ewish tombs has been attested, nor to
address the general question of Roman catacombs. 93 The present investiga-
tion, however, ventures to suggest that-since communal burial is not a
constitutive condition for the identity of the various religious groups in the
late Roman Empire and the teaching of the Christian Church itself had no
definable position on the question-there is apriori no reason to suppose a
desire on the part of Christians to be buried exclusively among their own.
The comparison which has been attempted in this paper is not intended to
suggest that conversion to one of the new cults in the Roman Empire-
Christianity could be safely included among them, and perhaps even Juda-
ism if one considers its capacity to attract-involves the same pro ces ses and
has the same impact on its members as conversion to any other cult. How-
ever, with regard to burial practice, one must conclude that conversion to
one of these cults has no specific implication. Neither religious teaching,
nor the actual practice of worshipers allows for the conclusion that separate
burial in a place specific to one's cult is either a common feature of the new
cults, or a feature particular to one of them. Such a conclusion has impor-
tant consequences for our understanding of these religious groups, particu-
larly for the Jews and the Christians. Regarding the Jews, it is an indirect
confirrnation of what a whole new trend of scholarship has now proved,
namely that Jews were not living in isolation from the Greco-Roman soci-
ety. Regarding the Christians, it requires that the question of their interac-
tion with non-Christians has to be asked again and on new grounds. The
church, even at the beginning of its development, and its converts might
not have been as concerned by the separation from their traditional links to
the Greco-Roman society as scholars have long been accustomed to believe.
Moreover, the lack of effect of conversion to a new cult on burial practices

also confirms that burial is not primarily a religious concern and that burial
rites cannot be explained, at least not only explained, by religious belief.
NOTES
I. J. North, "The Development of Religious Pluralism," in The Jews

among Pagans and Christians in the Roman Worl~ ed. J. Lieu, J. North, and
T. Rajak (London, 1992), p. 184.
2. Cf. R. Saller, and B. D. Shaw, "Tombstones and Roman Family Re-
lations in the Principate: Civilians, Soldiers and Slaves," Journal 0/ Roman
Studies 74 (1984): 124-56; and B. D. Shaw, "Latin Funerary Epigraphy and
Family Life in the Later Roman Empire," Historia 33 (1984): 457-97.
3. F. Cumont, Les mysteres de Mithra J 3d ed. (Brussels, 1913), pp. 180-
81.
4. This inscription, discovered in 1903 by A. Sogliano (Notizie degli
scavi di antichita [1905]: 380), has been published by F. Sokolowski in Lois
sacrees des cites grecques: SupplementJ Ecole franc;aise d'Athenes, Travaux et
memoires 11, no. 120 (Paris, 1962), pp. 202-3.
5. See, for example, F. Cumont, Lux perpetua (Paris, 1949), pp. 253,
405-6. R. Turcan, "Bacchoi ou bacchants? De la dissidence des vivants a la
segregation des morts," in Vassociation dionysiaque dans les societes anciennes J
Collection de l'Ecole franc;aise de Rome 89 (Rome, 1986), pp. 227-46, has

advanced the proposition that the document concerned might be Orphic,
whereas J.-M. Pailler has defended the traditional Dionysian hypothesis in
'''Sepulture interdite aux non bacchises': Dissidence orphique et veture di-
onysiaque," in Bacchus: Figures et pouvoirs (Paris, 1995), pp. I I 1-26.
6. A. Bottini, Archeologia della salvezza: Vescatologia greca nelle testimoni-
anze archeologiche Biblioteca di archeologia 17 (Milan, 1992), pp. 58-62.
J
7. Pailler, '''Sepulture interdite aux non bacchises,'" p. 118.

8. Bottini, Archeologia della salvezzaJ pp. 5 I-58.
9. For the traditional hypothesis, see P. Wuilleumier, Tarente des origines
a la conquete romaineJ Bibliotheque des Ecoles franc;aises d'Athenes et de
Rome 148 (Paris, 1939), pp. 548-49. P. G. Guzzo, "Altre note tarantine,"
Taras 12 (1992): 135-41, esp. pp. 135-36, definitively excludes the possi-
bility that the tomb could have ever been that of Archytas. Cf. E. Lippolis,
in Catalogo deI Museo nazionale archeologico di Taranto J vol. 3, pt. I: Taranto J
la necropoli: Aspetti e problem i della documentazione archeologica tra VII e I sec.
A.C. (Taranto, 1994), p. 58.
10. W Burkert, Ancient Mystery Cults (Cambridge, 1987), p. 48.
I I. F. Cumont, Textes et monuments flgures relatifs aux l1zysteres de Mithra,

vol. 2: Textes et monuments (Brussels, 1896), p. 353. Cf. M. J. Verrnaseren,
Corpus inscriptionum et monumentoyum religionis Mithriacae, 2 vols. (The Hague,
1956-60), vol. 2, no. 1148.
12. See ibid., vol. I, nos. 113-15,206,511,623-624,708,885.
13. See the inscriptions collected in E. N. Lane, ed., Corpus cultus Iovis
Sabazii, vol. 2: The Other Monuments and Literary Evidence, Etudes pnlimi-
naires aux religions orientales dans l'Empire romain 100/2 (hereafter CCIS
2), (Leiden, 1985).
14. lbid., no. 46, p. 22. See especially the exhaustive commentary by V.
Kontorini, Inscriptions inedites relatives J, l'histoire et aux cultes de Rhodes au lle
et au Ier s. av. J. -C, vol. I: Rhodiaka, Archaeologia transatlantica 6; Publi-
cations d'histoire de l'art et d'archeologie de l'Universite catholique de
Louvain 42 (Louvain-Ia-Neuve, 1983), pp. 71-79, pIs. X-Xl.
15. CCIS 2, no. 28 for the inscription; and E. N. Lane, Corpus cttltus Iovis
Sabazii, vol. 3: Conclusions, Etudes preliminaires aux religions orientales
dans l'Empire romain 100/3 (Leiden, 1985), p. 45, for the masculine char-
acter of the Sabazios cult.
16. See M. J. Verrnaseren, Corpus cultus Cybelae Attidisque, 7 vols., Etudes
preliminaires aux religions orientales dans l'Empire romain, 501I-501]
(Leiden, 1977-89), vols. 3, no. 337 (Rome); 4, no. 105 (Larinum); 5, no.
142 (Sitifis).
17. lbid., vol. 4, no. 16. Cf. V. Tarn Tinh Tran, Le culte des divinites
orientales en Campanie en dehors de Pompei, de Stabies et d'Herculanum, Etudes
preliminaires aux religions orientales dans l'Empire romain 27 (Leiden,
1972), p. 107, no. C 9 (= CIL X, 1894).
18. See the material collected by J. M. C. Toynbee, Death and Burial in
the Roman World (197 I; Baltimore, 1996), pp. 94-100.
19. See an inventory of assembly places of the collegia in J.-P. Waltzing,
Etttde historiqtte sur les corporations professionnelles chez les Romains depuis les
origines jusqu'J, la chttte de I'Empire d'Occident, 4 vols. (Louvain, 1895-1900),
4:447 ff.
20. Contra V. Tarn Tinh Tran, Culte des divinites orientales, p. 133. See pp.
149-50 for the text ofthe inscription (= CIL X, 157). For Waltzing, Etude
historique, 4:448, the field was in fact just a meeting-place.
21. F. Hettner, "De love Dolicheno" (Diss., Bonn, 1877), p. 17. The
inscription does not appear in M. Hrig's inventory in Corpus Cultus Iovis
Dolicheni, Etudes preliminaires aux religions orientales dans l'Empire ro-
main 106 (Leiden, 1987).
22. lbid., nos. 3,67,123. P. Merlat,}upiter Dolichenus: Essai d'interpretation
et de synthese, Publications de l'lnstitut d'art et d'archeologie de l'Universite
de Paris 5 (Paris, I960), pp. I90-2 IO, contains no records as to the "Doli-
chenian communities'" burial rites or sepulchres.
23. See L. H. Feldman, "Proselytism by Jews in the Third, Fourth, and
Fifth Centuries," journal for the Study ofjudaism 24, no. I (I993): I-58, see
in particular pp. 4-I4 concerning Roman law. Cf. L. H. Feldman, jew and
Gentile in the Ancient World: Attitudes and Interactions from Alexander to justin-
ian (Princeton, N.)., I993), pp. 383ff., but see L. V. Rutgers's critique in
"Attitudes to Judaism in the Greco-Roman Period: Reflections on Feld-
man's 'Jewand Gentile in the Ancient World,'" jewish Quarterly Review 85
(I995): 36I -95, reprinted in L. V. Rutgers, The Hidden Heritage of Diaspora
judaism, Contributions to Biblical Exegesis and Theology 20 (Louvain, I998),
pp. I99- 2 34
24. Feldman, "Proselytism by Jews," p. 49.
25. H.). Leon, The jews of Ancient Rome (I960), 2d ed., revised by c. A.
Osiek (Peabody, Mass., I995), pp. 253-55
26. See B. Lifshitz, "Les Juifs de Venosa," Rivista di filologia e di istruzione
classica 40 (I9 62 ): 367-71.
27. Ibid., p. 368. Cf. L. H. Kant, "Jewish Inscriptions in Greek and
Latin," Aufstieg und Niedergang der riimischen Welt, 2.20.2, p. 688 n. I04;
Feldman, jew and Gentile in the Ancient World, p. 358 and n. 52.
28. See D. Noy, jewish Inscriptions of Western Europe, vol. I: Italy (Exclud-
ing the City of Rome), Spain, and Gaul (hereafter JIWE I) (Cambridge, I993),
pp. I46-47; cf. p. xvii.
29. See E. M. Meyers, "Report on the Excavations at the Venosa Cata-
combs I98I," Vetera Christianorum 20 (I983): 445-59. Cf. L. V. Rutgers,
"Archeological Evidence for the Interaction of Jews and Non-Jews in Late
Antiquity," American journal of Archeology 96 (I992): I I2.
30. R. Heberdey, ed., Tituli Asiae minoris, vol. 3: Tituli Pisidiae linguis
Graeca et Latina conscripti, pt. I: Tituli Termessi et agri Termessensis (hereafter
TAM 3/I) (Vienna, I94I), no. 448.
31. Ibid., no. 6I2.
32. L. Robert, "Epitaphes juives d'Ephese et de Nicomedie," Hellenica
I I-I2 (I960), p. 386.
33. M. H. Williams, "The Meaning and Function of Ioudaios in Graeco-
Roman Inscriptions," Zeitschrift fr Papyrologie und Epigraphik I I6 (I997): 262.
34 Cf. TAM 3/ I, no. 44 8 .
35. General introduction in R. Hachili, Ancient jewish Art and Archaeol-
ogy in the Diaspora, Handbuch der Orientalistik I, Nahe und Mittlere Osten
35 (Leiden, I998), pp. 263-3IO. The whole discussion was opened by M.
H. Williams, "The Organisation of J ewish Burials in Ancient Rome in the
Light of Evidence from Palestine and the Diaspora," Zeitschrift fr Papyrologie
und Epigraphik 101 (1994): 165-82. Cf. D. Noy, "Where Were the Jews of
the Diaspora Buried?" in jews in a Graeeo-Roman World, ed. M. Goodman
(Oxford, 199 8 ), pp. 75-89.
36. See Rutgers, "Archeological Evidence," pp. I 10-1 I; R. S. Kraemer,
"Jewish Tuna and Christian Fish: Identifying Religious Affiliation in Epi-
graphie Sourees," Harvard Theologieal Review 84 (1991): 141-62; J. W. van
Henten and A. Bij de Vaate, "Jewish or Non-Jewish? Some Remarks on the
Identification of Jewish Inscriptions from Asia Minor," Bibliotheea Orientalis
53 (1996): 16-28.
37. J. Lieu, J. North, and T.. Rajak, eds., The jews among Pagans and
Christians in the Roman World (London, 1992); Goodman, lews in a Graeeo-
Roman World; 1. V. Rutgers, The lews in Late Aneient Rome: Evidenee 0/ Cul-
turallnteraction in the Roman Diaspora, Religions in the Graeco-Roman World
12 (Leiden, 1995), specifically chap. I on the historiography of the discov-
ery of the Jewish catacombs.
38. See P. R. Trebilco, jewish Conununities in Asia Minor, Society for New
Testament Studies, Monograph Series 69 (Cambridge, 1991).
39. Text and translation in J.-B. Frey, Corpus inseriptionum iudaiearum:
Reeueil des inseriptions juives qui vont du IIIe siede avant jesus-Christ au VIIe
siede de notre ere (hereafter CIJ), 2 vols., Sussidi allo studio delle antichira
cristiane I, 3 (Vatican City, 1936-52) no. 757; =E. Kalinka, ed., Tituli
Asiae minoris, vol. 2: Tituli Lyeiae linguis Graeea et Latina eonseripti, pt. 2
(Vienna, 1930) (hereafter TAM 212), no. 612.
40. See below for this type of euergetism. Cf. Trebilco,jewish Communities
in Asia Minor, p. 227 n. 71.
41. For Hierapolis, see T. Ritti, "Nuovi dati su una nota epigrafe sepol-
crale con stefanotico da Hierapolis di Frigia," Seienze del/'antiehita 6-7 (1992-
93): 4 1-43, and E. Miranda, "La comunira giudaica di Hierapolis di Frigia,"
Epigraphiea Anatoliea 31 (1999): 109-55, which records but one case where
two Jewish tombs lie next to each other whereas the others simply line the
road (p. 146). The northern necropolis from which the majority of the
Jewish inscriptions come is in the course of publication. Far Corycus, see J.
Keil, ed., Monumenta Asiae Minoris antiqua, vol. 3: Denkmler aus dem rauhen
Kilikien (Manchester, 1931), pp. 120-22, for a description of the necropolis
that stretches along the coast, including a map (pI. 46). Jewish inscriptions
have been discovered in each of the editors' three arbitrarily designated
zones, A, B, and C. Cf. M. H. Williams, "The Jews of Corycus: A Neglected
Diasporan Community from Roman Times," journal /or the Study 0/ judaism
25 (1994): 27 8 and nn. 23- 24.
42. J. H. M. Strubbe, "Curses against Violation of the Grave in Jewish
Epitaphs of Asia Minor," in Studies in Early jewish Epigraphy, ed. J. W. van
Henten and P. W. van der Horst, Arbeiten zur Geschichte des antiken
Judentums und des Urchristentums 21 (Leiden, 1994), pp. 70-128, 101-
2, contra Trebilco, jewish Communities in Asia Minor, p. 227 n. 71. M. H.
Williams, "Meaning and Function of Ioudaios/' p. 256 and n. 69, under-
scores just how flimsy Strubbe's arguments are; similar comments in D.
Noy, "Where Were the Jews of the Diaspora buried?" p. 81 n. 30.
43. Trebilco, jewish Communities in Asia Minor, pp. 67-68, 83, 100, im-
plies that the population in cities such as Acmonia was aware of and ac-
knowledged the Mosaic law.
44. As Strubbe himself knows, "Curses against Violation of the Grave,"
p. 100.
45. CI] 2, no. 777 (incomplete); new ed. in E. Miranda, "La comunira
giudaica di Hierapolis," no. 23, p. 131, with detailed commentary pp. 140-
45. Cf. Ritti, "Nuovi dati su una nota epigrafe."
46. Text, English translation, and commentary in Trebilco, jewish Com-
munities in Asia Minor, pp. 78-81.
47. According to Trebilco (pp. 78-81), the association of the "Neighbor-
hood of the First Gate" was a Jewish association. As for P. Ailios Glykon
himself, he was apparently not Jewish, but simply a "sympathizer." In both
cases the arguments proposed are not wholly compelling.
48. The city of Tukrah (ancient Taucheira) in Libya furnishes another
interesting example. Ir has thrown up a total of 440 inscriptions, most of
which come from burial chambers dug into the walls of abandoned quarries
to the west of the city. S. Applebaum has positively identified 109 Jewish
inscriptions, to which number he has added 144 others from tombs confi-
dently ascribed to Jews. The implication is that one and the same tomb
houses only Jewish burials, and there is indeed nothing to suggest the
contrary. On the other hand-and against the opinion formerly held by
other scholars-Applebaum has demonstrated that if one of the quarries
seems indeed to have served almost exclusively as aburial ground for J ews,
others contain no Jewish graves at all , and others again comprise tight-knit
areas of Jewish graves among others belonging to non-Jews. S. Applebaum,
jews and Greeks in Ancient Cyrene Studies in Judaism in Late Antiquity 28
J
(Leiden, 1979), pp. 144-60. Cf. idem, "The Jewish Community of Hellenis-
tic and Roman Teucheira in Cyrenaica," Scripta Hierosolymitana 7 (1961):
27-5 2 .
49. W Horbury and D. Noy, eds., jewish Inscriptions 0/ Graeco-Roman
Egypt: With an Index 0/ the jewish Inscriptions 0/ Egypt and Cyrenaica (Cam-
bridge, 1992), p. 4 (cf. p. xv); against C. S. Clermont-Ganneau's old hy-
pothesis to be found in ''L'antique necropole juive d'Alexandrie," Comptes
rendus de FAcademie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres (1907): 23 6-39, 375-76.
50. See A. 1. Delattre, Gamart ou la necropole juive de Carthage (Lyon,

1895), and see the review in S. Gsell, "Chronique archeologique africaine,"
Melanges dJarcheologie et dJhistoire 15 (1895): 829. See also Y Le Bohec,
"Inscriptions juives et juda'isantes de l'Afrique romaine," Antiquites africaines
17 (1981 ): 165-27; pp. 168 and 180-89 for the inscriptions.
5 I. For a detailed description of these catacombs, see C. Vismarra, "I
cimiteri ebraici di Roma," in Societa romana e impero tardoantico J vol. 2: Le
merci; Gli insediamentiJ ed. A. Giardina, Collezione storica (Bari, 1986), pp.
35 1-389; and 1. V. Rutgers, "berlegungen zu den jdischen Katakomben
Roms," jahrbuch fr Antike und Christentum 33 (1990) 140-57 (revised En-
glish translation, "Dating the Jewish catacombs of ancient Rome," in Rut-
gers, The Hidden Heritage of Diaspora judaism J pp. 45-71). T. Rajak,
"Inscription and Context: Reading the Jewish Catacombs of Rome," in van
Henten and van der Horst, Studies in Early jewish EpigraphYJ rightly sounds
a note of warning as regards our highly fragmentary knowledge of these
catacombs (pp. 228-30).
52. See 1. V. Rutgers, The jews of Late Ancient RomeJ pp. 53-55, for an
examination of chambers I and II of the catacomb at Villa Randanini where
the paintings contain motifs which are explicitly pagan but which might
originally have belonged to aseparate hypogeum; pp. 77-81, for some
sarcophagi which are decorated in a pagan style, but which have not been
discovered in their original context; pp. 269-72, where the same reasoning is
applied to epitaphs in which the pagan formula Dis Manibus appears. T. Rajak,
"Inscription and Context," p. 239, opts to leave the question undecided.
53. Leon, lews of Ancient RomeJ p. 54, and chap. 7 passim.
54. Williams, "Organisation of Jewish Burials," pp. 165-7.
55. Ibid., pp. 179-81 ; followed by D. Noy, "Where Were the Jews of
the Diaspora Buried?" p. 87 .
. 56. Williams, "Organisation of Jewish Burials," pp. 181-82.
57. See B. Mazar, ed., Beth SheJarim J vol. 1: Catacombs 1-4 0erusalem,
1973); M. Schwabe and B. Lifschitz, eds., Beth SheJarim J vol. 2: The Greek
Inscriptions 0erusalem, 1974); N. Avigad, ed., Beth SheJarim J vol. 3: The
Archaeological Excavations during 1953-1958: The Catacombs 12-13 (New
Brunswick, N.J., 1976). A guided tour of these catacombs (complete with
maps allowing viewers to see the photographs and read the inscriptions) has
been compiled by Michael 1. Satlow (U niversity of Virginia) and uploaded
onto the Internet at: www.iath.village.virginia.edu/mls4n/genplan.html. The
only concrete evidence of the role of funeral consortia is confined to an
inscription discovered in the synagogue which indicates the seats occupied
by two individuals involved in the preparation and laying out of the bodies:
Schwabe-and Lifschitz, Beth SheJarim J vol. 2, no. 202.
58. See J. Guyon, "La vente des tombes a travers l' epigraphie de la Rome
chretienne (IIIe-VIIe siecles): Le rale des /ossores! mansionarii! praepositi et
pretres," Melanges de FEcole /ranfaise de Rome! Antiquite 86 (r974): 549-96.
59. J. Juster, Les juijs clans FEmpire romain: Leur condition juridique! economique
et sodale! vol. I (Paris, 1914), p. 480.
60. Ibid., n. 4, which cites the following three inscriptions: JIWE 2, no.
378 = CI] I, no. 220, in which a wife reserves a loculus next to that of her
spouse; TAM 2/2, no. 612 = CI] 2, no. 757, which makes a gift of an
individual grave to the Jewish community of Tlos (see above); CIL VI,
10412, whose Jewish character is not accepted.
61. Semahot I, 9; D. Zlotnick, ed., The Tractate !!Mourning!! (Semahot):
Regulations Relating to Death! Burial! and Mourning! Yale J udaica series 17
(New Haven, Conn., 1966), p. 32; for the date, see the introduction.
62. Tosefta! Gittin! 5, 5; Jerusalem Talmud! Demai! I, 4;Jerusalem Talmud,
Aboda zara! I, 3. Cf. Babylonian Talmud! Gittin! 61a, where the place of
burial is once again not mentioned (contra L. V. Rutgers, "Archaeological
Evidence," p. 114).
63. Mishna! Ohalot! 18, 7-8, translation and commentary in J. Neusner,
A History 0/ the Mishnaic Law 0/ Purity! vol. 4: Ohalot: Commentary! Studies in
Judaism in Late Antiquity 6/4 (Leiden, 1975), pp. 340-41; cf. G. G. Por-
ton, Goyim: Gentiles and Israelites in Mishnah-Tosefta! Brown Judaic Studies
155 (Atlanta, 1988), pp. 16- 17, 274
64. Mishna! Shabbat! 23, 4, and Tosefta! Shabbat! 17, 14-15; translation
and commentary in J. Neusner, A History 0/ the Mishnaic Law 0/ Appointed
Times! vol. I: Shabbat: Translation and Explanation! Studies in Judaism in
Late Antiquity 34/1 (Leiden, 1981), pp. 200-201; cf. Porton, Goyim! pp.
28-29, 208.
65. See Porton's note of methodological caution, Goyim! pp. 4-5.
66. D. Noy, "Where Were the Jews of the Diaspora Buried?" pp. 88-89,
makes mention of such a wish but does not furnish further illustration. Cf.
idem, "Writing in Tongues: The Use of Greek, Latin and Hebrew in Jewish
Inscriptions from Roman Italy," Journal 0/ Jewish Studies 48 (1997): 300-
3 I I, where he suggests that the choice of Greek as the language for epi-
taphs (approximately 74 percent of the total) coincides with the selection of
a specific, and hence Jewish, wording, in contradistinction to Latin epitaphs
whose phraseology conforms more closely to contemporary pagan inscrip-
tions.
67. On the implications of the status of such a "megalopolis," see the
recent Megapoles mediterraneennes: Geographie urbaine retrospective: Actes du col-
loque organise par FEcole /ranfaise de Rome et la Maison mediterraneenne des
sciences de Fhomme (Rome, 8-11 May 1996), a colloquium chaired by C.
Nicolet, R. Ilbert, and J.-c. Depaule, Collection de l'Ecole franc;aise de

Rome 261 (Paris, 2000). A study of the social practices peculiar to large
cities remains to be undertaken.
68. H. Delehaye, Les origines du culte des martyrs, Subsidia hagiographica
20 (Brussels, 1933), p. 30.
69. See E. Rebillard, "Eglise et sepulture dans l'Antiquite tardive (Occi-
dent latin, 3e-6e siecles)," Annales: Histoire, sciences sodales 54, no. 5 (1999):
1029-32. Cf. M. J. Johnson, "Pagan-Christian Burial Practices of the Fourth
Century: Shared Tombs?" Journal 0/ Early Christian Studies 5, no. I (1997):
45-4 6 .
70. Tertullian, De idololatria, 14, 5; critical text, translation, and com-
mentary by J. H. Waszink and J. C. M. Van Winden, Supplements to
Vigiliae Christianae I (Leiden, 1987), pp. 50-5 I.
7 I. Ibid.
72. Tertullian, Ad Scapulam, 3, I, ed. E. Dekkers, Corpus Christianorum,
Series Latina 2 (Turnhout, 1954), p. 1129.
73. See TertuHian, Apologeticum, 3, 1-4 recording comments made on
those who had become Christians, showing that even in a city the size of
Carthage, everyone knew who had converted to that faith.
74. For a detailed demonstration, see E. Rebillard, "Les areae carthagi-
noises (TertuHien, Ad Scapulam 3, I): Cimetieres communautaires ou enclos
funeraires de chretiens?" Melanges de I'Ecole /ranfaise de Rome, Antiquite 108,
no. I (199 6 ): 175-89.
75. Cyprian, Ep. 67, ed. G. F. Diercks, Corpus Christianorum, Series
Latina 3C (Turnhout, 1996), pp. 446-62. See G. W. Clarke, The Letters 0/
Cyprian, vol. 4, Ancient Christian Writers 47 (New York, 1989), pp. 139-
42, for the circumstances behind the events and a bibliography.
76. Cyprian, Ep. 67, 6, pp. 456-57.
77. See Commodian, Instructiones, 33. Cf. A. Cafissi, "Contributo aHa
storia dei collegi romani: I collegia /uneraticia," Studi e ricerche dell'Istituto di
Storia, Facolta di Lettere e Filosofia, Universita di Firenze 2 (1983): 89-1 I I.
78. See Cafissi, "Contributo alla storia dei collegi romani," p. 107; and
Waltzing, Etude historique, 4:487-95, for a list.
79. Cafissi, "Contributo aHa storia dei collegi romani," pp. 107-8.
80. Capitulatio de partibus Saxoniae, 22, ed. A. Boretius, in Monumenta
Germaniae Historica, Legum sectio 2, Capitularia regum Francorum, vol. I (Ha-
nover, 1883), p. 69.
81. B. Effros, "De partibus Saxoniae and the Regulation of Mortuary Cus-
tom: A Carolingian Campaign of Christianization or the Suppression of
Saxon Identity?" Revue beige de philologie et d'histoire 75, no. 2 (1997): 267-
86.
82. CIL VI, 1412 = ICVR VIII, 20737: "Monumentum Valeri Mercuri
et Iulittes Iuliani et Quintilies Verecundes libertis libertabusque posteris-
que eorum at religionem pertinentes meam hoc amplius in circuitum circa
monumentum lati longi per pedes binos quod pertinet at ipsum
monument(um)." See G.-B. De Rossi, "Le iscrizioni trovate nei sepolcri
all'aperto cielo nella villa Patrizi," Bullettino di archeologia cristiana (1865):
53-54
83. Cf. G. Boissier, La religion romaine dJAuguste aux AntoninsJ vol. I
(Paris, 1878), p. 383 n. 5.
84. ICVR III, 6555: "Marcus Antonius Restitutus fecit ypogeu sibi et
suis fidentibus in Domino."
8 5. See the doctoral thesis by P. Pergola, "Les cimetieres chretiens de
Rome depuis leurs origines jusqu' au neuvieme siede: Le cas du 'praedium
Domitillae' et de la catacombe homonyme sur la 'Via Ardeatina'" (These
d'etat, Aix-en-Provence, 1992), pp. 305-6. Cf. G.-B. De Rossi, "Le varie e
successive condizioni di legalira. dei cemeteri, il vario grado di liberta dell'arte
cristiana, e la legalira della medesima religione nel primo secolo verificate
dalle recenti scoperte nel cemetero di Domitilla," Bullettino di archeologia
cristiana ( 1865): 89-99.
86. A. Ferrua (ICVR III, 6555) compares this wording to 2 Cor. 1:9:
"non simus fidentes in nobis sed in deo qui suscitat mortuos."
87. ILCV 3681 = Supplementa Italica J vol. 2 (Rome, 1983), no. 66.
88. See G. Mancini, "Scoperta di un antico sepolcreto cristiano nel terri-
torio veliterno, in localira Solluna," Notizie degli scavi di antichita (r924):
34 1-53, esp. pp. 345-46.
89. CIL VIII, 958s: text and commentary in Y Duval, Loca Sanctorum
Africae: Le culte des martyrs en Afrique du IVe au VIIe siedeJ vol. I, Collection
de l'Ecole franc;aise de Rome 58 (Rome, 1982), no. 179, pp. 380-83.
90. Contrary to statements elsewhere: see, for example, S. Gsell, Les mon-
uments antiques de l'AlgerieJ vol. 2 (Paris, 1901), pp. 398-400; and P. Mon-
ceaux, Histoire litteraire de l'Afrique chritienne: Depuis les origines jusquJa l'invasion
arabeJ 7 vols. (Paris, 191-23), 1:14, 2:125-3. Cardinal Lavigerie did
indeed undertake excavations in the zone in which the inscription was
actually unearthed, but these did not furnish the results anticipated since
the discovery concerned a pagan area; see the publication of these excava-
tions by P. Leveau, "Fouilles anciennes sur les necropoles antiques de Cher-
chel," Antiquites africaines 12 (197 8): 93-95.
91. ILCV 1179 = CIL VIII, 9586.
92. P. Hermann, Neue Inschriften zur historischen Landeskunde von Lydien
und angrenzenden Gebieten J Denkschriften der sterreichischen Akademie der
Wissenschaften, Philosophisch-Historische Klasse, 77, no. 1 (Vienna, 1959),

no. 10, p. 13 (= SEC 19 [1963], no. 719).
93. On mixing of tombs, see Johnson, "Pagan-Christian Burial Practic-
es." For an oudine of the question of Roman catacombs, see E. Rebillard,
"KOIMHTHRION et COEMETERIUM: Tombe, tombe sainte, necropole,"
Milanges de I'Ecole franfaise de RomeJ Antiquiti l0S, no. 2 (1993): 975-1001,
and ''L'eglise de Rome et le developpement des catacombes: Apropos de
l'origine des cimetieres chretiens," ibid., 19, no. 2 (1997): 741-63.
4
CONVERTING THE UN-CHRISTIANIZABLE
THE BAPTISM OF STAGE PERFORMERS IN LATE ANTIQUITY
RICHARD LIM
In the Lift 0/ St. Pelagia (32), the devil appears before Bishop Nonnus to
remonstrate with hirn over his most recent deed. The devil accuses the
bishop of being aserial miscreant: first he converted thirty thousand Arab
tribesmen, then he brought the city of Baalbek/Heliopolis over to Chris-
tianity, and now, to top his trouble-making career, he even snatched away
his (the devil's) prized disciple, the prima donna of the Antiochene stage.
By moving an infamous mime actress to accept baptism, the devil confesses,
the bishop has snatched his "last hope" away. Interestingly, the author
manages to capture in this one simple comment some of the most notable
aspects of conversion and Christianization in late antiquity: the mission to
barbarian peoples, the transformation of the ancient city, and the conversion
of individuals.
The devil's assessment may appear surprising at first. Surely the conse-
quences of the evangelization of thirty thousand Arabs and the population
of an entire city outweigh those of the conversion of a single individual.
Further, Pelagia was al ready a Christian catechumen in the text, having
presumably been signed with the cross while an infant. Nevertheless the
author had good reasons for speaking through the devil in this way. The
public stage of late antiquity represents one of those conspicuous features of
civic life that remained more or less impervious to Christianization, and the
conversion of the foremost mime actress of an important city would have
been an immense coup indeed.
This paper examines select late antique evidence for the baptism of stage
performers as weH as Christian narratives of their conversion, without any
claims to exhaustiveness but with a focus on the Greek East. The opposition
between church and stage remained a live issue weH into the sixth century
despite the fact that, by that time, the shows were patronized, attended,
and staffed by Chrisrians. Thus while narratives of the baptism of perform-
CONVERTING THE UN-CHRISTIANIZABLE 85
ers appear to address the tensions between the pagan and Christian worlds,
being in fact addressed to people who al ready participated to varying de-
grees in a Christian identity, they speak more to the challenge of Christian-
izing post-Constantinian Christian communities.
CONVERSION, CHRISTIANIZATION,
AND SECULARIZATION: THE CASE OF THE
LATE ROMAN STAGE
The conversion of Constantine in A.D. 312, the nature of which continues to

be debated among scholars, gradually allowed a Christian imprint to be
placed on late antique society through the application of imperial authori-
ty.l The latter process, which has come to be termed "Christianization,"
remains one of the central themes in the study of late antiquity. Some
scholars regard Christianization as a conflictual process involving mainly
pagans and Christians, and proceed to judge its progress according to the
ability of Christians to defeat the re ar guards of the old religion in areas
such as the status of the public cult, sacrifices, temples, and priesthoods.
This by and large conforms to the triumphal narrative of late antique Chris-
tians themselves. While certain scholars have revised earlier narratives of
decisive change and now emphasize continuity or slow adaptation, the fun-
damental premise regarding Christianization remains the same. With re-
spect to the Roman spectacles, Ramsay MacMullen has even cited the eventual
disappearance of gladiatorial games in the early fifth century as the only
decisive impact Christianity had on them. 2 But the survival and disappear-
ance of certain forms of spectacles may not always provide the most mean-
ingful standard by which to measure Christianization, given that it cannot
just be equated with the suppression and disappearance of traditional prac-
tices or institutions. 3
The attitudes and actions of the emperors and the political elite remained
critical to the success of Christianization. The co operation of the Roman
state in securing its progress was neither unconditional nor motivated by
the same considerations held by ecclesiastical writers or which they attrib-
uted to the imperial court. The emperors and the elite at court and in the
ci ti es retained an interest in keeping the ancient system going even as
elements of it were transformed or adapted to the needs of an increasingly
Christianized society: while public sacrifices must go, many other practices and
institutions could stay. For emperots and elites, the old was not always bad. 4
The late antique city represents a prime opportunity for scholars to ex-
amine the nature and scope of Christianization. Roman urban administration
grew out of centuries of experience and experimentation from the coopera-

tion between central and civic elites; it remained a cornerstone of the im-
perial system in political, social, and economic terms. Moreover, the city
represented the best that the Greco-Roman world had to offer. Refinements
in urban life, lavish amenities, and the provision of large-scale entertain-
ments made the ci ti es desirable pI aces in which to live despite drawbacks
such as crowding. Cities were also the showcases of empire and proof that
the Romans surpassed barbarians in achievement.
Central to the definition and prestige of an ancient city was its provision
of public entertainments. The urban spectacles consisted mainly of circus,
amphitheatrical, and theatrical games. Among these, the most ubiquitous
as well as the most enduring were the theatrical shows. 5
The Roman stage was never effectively Christianized in late antiquity for
reasons that still await full investigation. 6 Instead, it remained astapie of
civic and imperial entertainments and an ideological challenge to Christian-
ity of the first order.
Once public sacrifices had been banned and the link between the games
and pagan festivals severed, Roman public spectacles could be and were
presented by the political elite as belonging to the saeculum, neither explic-
itly pagan nor Christian. Rather than being ludi dedicated to the gods, they
became voluptates designed to amuse the people. 7 Many ecclesiastical leaders
still preferred to brand them as pagan but, when faced with the contrary
instinct of the political elite, they could only effect incremental changes
such as causing the emperors to ban public shows during important Chris-
tian holidays. On the other hand, they could and did work to transform the
mores of their own congregations and their documented predilection for the
shows. In this respect, Christianization involved the slow molding of atti-
tudes and habits of life through pastoral care, so that the anti thesis between
the church and the stage no longer reflects the conflict between Christians
and pagans but one among Christians. Historians, even now, often adopt
the stance of Christi an writers and preachers who sought to persuade fellow
Christians to live wh at they considered a more Christian way of life. These
more rigorist preachers advocated a set of behavior and beliefs thought to
set the genuine Christian apart from the semi-Christian or crypto-pagan.
But increasing attention is also being paid to the outlook of the local
Christian communities or the preacher's audiences, recognizing that Chris-
tianization involved a process of persuasion and negotiation over the mean-
ing of a Christian identity.8 This paper adopts the position that the baptism
of stage performers furnished late antique Christians with an occasion for
debating with each other over what Christianization ought to mean.
THE CONVERSION OF STAGE PERFORMERS:

BACKGROUND, EVIDENCE, AND KEY ISSUES
Excepting a few apologists, elite pagan and Christian writers alike regarded
the theater as essentiaIly amoral as weIl as a powerful source of corruption
for those who attended it. But for some Christians, the stage could also be
seen as the embodiment of the hostile, unsympathetic pagan world that
stubbornly resisted the Gospel. The antipathy between the Christian church
and the civic stagehad become a commonplace by the fourth century.9
Stage performers were the popular heroes of the profane, secular world that
was litde affected by Christianization. In Roman law, they long suffered
from the penalty of infamia in perpetuity and were seen as personae probosae. lO
The age-old practice of assigning public performers the status of infames
continued weIl into the Christian empire, as witnessed by the Liber Syroro-
manusJ a textbook of legal instruction based upon a Greek original from
around 475 Y Within the Christian church, performers were refused the
sacrament of baptism, the rite of passage through which one passed into the
fuIl Christian community, unless they first abandoned their profession. Actors
who wished to be counted among the plebs Christiana were required by the
ecclesiastical authorities to forsake their life in entertainment. Hippolytus
of Rome, in commenting on the screening of candidates for admission to
the catechumenate, rejected active stage performers as weIl as those who
were currendy involved in the business of prostitution. 12 This rigorist stance
did not soften markedly in the post-Constantinian era. In 393, Augustine
denied the sacraments to prostitutes, public performers, and "anyone else
who promotes public turpitude," alongside gladiators and pimpsY Ecclesi-
astical canons from church councils also consistendy forbid baptized Chris-
tians from practicing the theatrical arts. 14
As the Roman population graduaIly embraced Christianity, the conver-
sion of stage performers became a matter of public interest and discussion.
Significant mentions of the actual conversion and baptism of stage person-
nel first appear in written sources during the late fourth century.15 This type
of conversion was anything but straightforward, being subject to negotia-
tions between the secular and ecclesiastical elites. Various references in late
Roman law codes and in a letter found among the spuria of Sulpicius Severus
reflect evolving official attitudes regarding stage performers, particularly
actresses, who wished to receive baptism.
By the fourth century, after many collegia had been transformed by the
state into involuntary and hereditary associations, the children of parents
involved in those public professions were required by law to take up their
parents' metiers. 16 Stage performers were among those corporibus obligati whose
social mobility was circumscribed because their service was deemed vital to
the public interest. In this one area, we can find an interesting tension
between the official restrietions placed on the social mobility of members of
certain professions and the prospect of greater social mobility promised by
Christian conversion and baptism.
The anonymous author of a pseudepigraphic letter of Sulpicius Severus
urges the notables (primates, decuriones) of an African city to excuse a young
actor, who had recently been converted and baptized, from the munus, com-
pulsory service, of public stage performanceY The writer of the letter ar-
gues that while the boy ente red the acting profession at a very young age,
thereby making a blot on his early life (ut annorum suorum initia macularet),
he is not culpable for, being an infant, he has done wrong without knowl-
edge. His stage career is also a thing of the past. Now that the enlightened
young man has come to see the life of the stage as a perverted one (inte!!exit
uitam scenicam consilio meliore damnandam), he ought to be allowed to perform
a full purification (plena purgatio) by means of baptism. The writer also
states that the young actor, renouatus sacro baptismate, has al ready pledged to
avoid the theater and shun the public eye in the future.
We do not know the outcome of the story. It is likely that the petition
was granted. Already in 290, Diocletian and Maximian had issued a ruling
that the minority of young performers constituted a mitigating circum-
stance that spared them from being branded infames personae for the rest of
their lives, the common fate of all public actors. 18 Roman law had long
provided for the protection of minors in matters of property and inheritance
and this tetrarchie law extended this proteetion to humiliores by allowing
young actors who no longer performed to be restored to respectable social
standing, inviolatatam existimationem. This reminds us that not all changes in
such areas should be attributed to Christianization.
A similar situation prompted imperial legislation on several occasions. 19
Throughout the later fourth century, local officials were confronted with the
question as to whether actors who had received deathbed baptism but who
subsequently lived could be made to return to their former trade. 20 The political
elite faced a difficult dilemma. In an imperial rescript, Valentinian, Valens, and
Gratian ruled that baptism was a potent sacrament that could not be trifled
with and that, once baptized, former actors must not perform in public ever
again. 21 However, the emperors were aware that this might give undue encour-
agement to scaenici to desert their obligatory profession by joining the ranks of
the baptized. In order to avoid having no stage performers for the popular
shows, they stipulated that baptism could only be granted to ac tors certified by
their local bishops and curatores, city supervisors, to be near death.
This law epitomizes the essential compromise upon which the political
elite settled. They dared not deny baptism outright to a dying individual
whose salvation depended on receiving the sacrament whilst alive. Neither
would they flout the established ecclesiastical teaching forbidding a bap-
tized Christian from participating in public performances. FinaIly, they did
not want to provide an easy escape clause that would allow performers to
forsake their nzunera to the detriment of the urban entertainments. The
latter was a weighty consideration for the emperors. By admitting only
dying performers to baptism and in other laws forbidding members of this
and other essential professions from deserting into the Christian clergy, the
emperors aimed to ensure the proper discharge of the /unctiones publicaeJ
foremost among which was the provision of voluptates for the people. 22
The situation on the ground added to the emperors' concern. Many com-
munities experienced difficulty in recruiting and retaining sta.ge performers
sufficient for their needs, the shortage of actresses and dancers becoming
especially noticeable in Western cities. 23 Around 371, certain individuals in
Roman North Africa apparently took to compelling former members of the
acting profession to go on stage, in contravention of both ecclesiastical
teaching and imperial law. The resulting dispute eventually reached the
emperors, who ordered Julianus, proconsul of Africa, to allow only women
born into the acting profession "who appear to be living and to have lived
a vulgar life in their manner of living and in their morals" to be press-
ganged back into service. 24 A decade on, in 380, Gratian, Valentinian, and
Theodosius issued a law in which they note with displeasure that thynzelicae
were being abducted from Rome to perform elsewhere. 25
Imperiallegislation on performers from the Theodosian age onward man-
ifests a concern over their moral as weIl as legal status. In 380, the same
emperors instructed Anicius Paulinus, then urban prefect of Rome, that
baptized scaenicae from the lower orders (ex viliori sorte) must not be forced
to act again provided that they continued to exhibit a reformed way of life
(nzelior vivendi USUS).26 Former actresses were also to be released from the
praeiudiciunz that had hitherto adhered to them. Yet not every scaenica who
left the stage led a life that met with the approval of the emperors. While
a law of 381 to Valerianus, urban prefect of Rome, permits every actress
who so petitions to be released from her duty, it dweIls insistently on the
evil consequences that will result if she fails to follow this commitment
through with appropriate actions. 27 As stated in the laws, the authorities
must judge whether former actresses could be made to return to stage
service on the basis of their postbaptismal moral conduct, specifically whether
they offered sexual favors for money. Interestingly, former male actors were
reincorporated into society as respectable persons, ut probabiles habeantu",
without any scrutiny of their behavior after baptism. Such a discriminatory

treatment of scaenicae might have had more to do with their perceived
scarcity than with elite male views regarding the need of women for tutela.
Demands for urban entertainment sometimes caused public officials and
emperors to reverse their usual policy of allowing performers to be baptized
and hence excused from stage service. In 413, the emperors asked Dioge-
ni anus , the tribunus voluptatum of Carthage, to compel actresses and female
mimes freed from their mztnus by former imperial annotations to return to
service summa instantia, in order to provide popular voluptates for the celebra-
ti on of festal days.28 I have suggested elsewhere that the background for this
law was the peculiar and unsettled situation in Carthage following the
Gothic sack of Rome in 4 10. 29
Public officials and masters of slaves who were engaged in the provision
of ludi scaenici often applied pressure on individuals to go into or remain in
service. In a general law to local governors and bishops, Leo I (457-68)
forbids them from allowing a woman, whether slave or free, to be forced
into participating in mime shows or dance performances as weIl in acts of
prostitution. 30 Justinian reiterates the same principle in a later law: women
must not be coerced into becoming or remaining performers; should this
happen, they could appeal to local governors and bishops who must, under
threat of stiff penalties, see that the law was properly carried out. 31
Given a dose connection between the Roman actress and prostitute, laws
on prostitution have a bearing on our present discussion. Both actress and
pros ti tute served useful social functions and were essential to the overall
welfare of Roman society. They hailed from the lower orders, being the
"dregs" of society as one imperial law indelicately puts it; they were often
lumped together as disreputable persons (humilis abiectaque persona).32 Yet
from the mid-fifth century on, there emerged a growing imperial interest in
the fate of these socially and legally marginal women. This change resulted
from a certain Christianization of the social mores and discourse of order of
late antigue society. A law of 428 forbids fathers and masters from selling
daughters and female slaves into prostitution and threatens them with the
loss of potestatis ius over the women. 33 Given the entrenched legal right,
guaranteed by the Twelve Tables, of the paterfamilias to dispose of family
members in his power, even to sell them into slavery, and the extensive
rights a master held over a slave, the law marks a signal departure from
precedent. 34 Later, a constitution of Justinian from 531 renders it unlawful
for a master to prostitute a slave; furthermore, a master would immediately
lose his power over the slave through the commission of such an act. 35
In partial summary, substantial obstades stood in the way of stage per-
formers who planned to receive baptism. The imperial rulings in this area
normally recognize their right to baptism and hence retirement from the
stage. These imperial laws regarding the baptism of performers suggest that
the extent and limits of Christianization were a complex issue, one that
involved the different and often conflicting interests of the imperial and
loeal elites, ecdesiastical leaders, and the performers themselves. Ultimate-
ly, the imperial authorities allowed everyone who so wished the ability to
receive baptism but, as part of the compromise, imposed a doser scrutiny
upon the moral conduct of former actresses. The burgeoning elite interest in
supervising the morality of women from the humiliores represents a new
twist that is an unintended consequence of the historical developments we
have deseribed as well as the universalizing tendency of Christian moral
discourse, discussed below.
THE CONVERSION OF STAGE PERFORMERS IN THE

CHRISTIAN TRADITION
The evidence of imperial and ecdesiastical legislation reviewed above shows

that the baptism of stage performers involved certain negotiations among
the elite and that, on occasion, an otherwise individual decision might have
given rise to a public drama of sorts. Even so, no drama has emerged from
this body of evidence that remotely rivals what late antique Christian texts
would offer in connection with the baptism of stage performers. There are
two main genres in wh ich this theme features prominently: the martyrology
of (mostly male) stage performers and the hagiography of (mostly female)
penitent actor-saints. In reading these works, we need to take into account
the broader context of the church's repeated failure to effect the suppression
of the public stage, which continued to be a popular civic institution. Such
narratives therefore furnished an opportunity for certain Christians to for-
mulate a response to its perceived challenge. Further, as what eedesiastical
leaders had the most direct control over was the terms of entry for those
who sought to become (full) members of the Christian community, the rite
of baptism became a central feature in defining the relationship between the
Christian chureh and the theater and its personnel.
Martyrology 0/ Actor-Saints
The Acta Sanctorum contains a number of martyrologies of stage performers
who purportedly lived during late antiquity.36 As these passiones mostly
share the same dramatic context-the enactment of the rite of baptism on
the public stage-Werner Weismann and others have labeled the martyr
figure they represent as a Tau/mimus} connecting hirn especially with Syria

and Palestine, aland famous for its mime and pantomime shows.
The usual context for the conversion and martyrdom of the so-called
Tau/mimus is a civic performance in which pagan mimes enact Christian
baptism and which then results in the dramatic and miraculous conversion
of the stupidus} the mime immersed by his fellows in the baptismal font. In
one such passio} a mime called Porphyry receives martyrdom in Cappadocian
Caesarea under Aurelian following his public conversion to Christianity.37
The passio of yet another mime, Gelasius or Gelasinus of Baalbek/Heliopo-
lis, set in 297, so resembles that of Porphyry that a common source has been
suggested for both of them. 38 The passio of St. Genesius, dated by its editor
to the ninth century, also shows a closely parallel structure to that of Por-
phyry.39
The copious intertextual references and similarities in these passiones} in
which one saint easily assimilates the traits of another, suggest the wide-
spread popularity of this story-type. A review of the first two martyrologies
cited will suffice to reveal the normal shape of these accounts.
The Lift 0/ Porphyry the Mime} which the Greek titulus introduces as the
"Witness (/lOP'tUPlOV) of Porphyrius, the Holy and Glorious Martyr of Christ,
who was martyred in Cappadocian Caesarea," narrates the story of a second-
century stage performer from Ephesus. Recruited by a comes named Alex-
ander to entertain the citizens of Caesarea on the civic stage, Porphyry and
his troupe stage a skit calculated to bring laughter to that particular audi-
ence (2, p. 270).40 The mime troupe dons the garb of the Christian clergy:
one appears as abishop; others as presbyters, deacons, psalmists, and lectors.
Porphyry hirnself plays the role of the catechumen preparing to receive
baptism. The mimes act out the skit in accordance with the rituals of the
church, making the "Mystery of the Christians" an object of mockery and
laughter before the assembled citizens (2, p. 270).
Porphyry, still in jest, go es through the rite of baptism at the hands of
his fellow mimes and is thrown into the water in the best slapstick tradi-
tion. At that instant, according to our narrator, the Holy Spirit descends
upon hirn and he receives a genuine baptism. From that moment onward,
the author calls hirn "the Most Blessed Porphyry" (2, p. 271.2). The anti-
Christian Tau/mimus has become a Christian while acting out a skit de-
signed to mock Christian beliefs! Indeed, the story exhibits God's mercy
and power to effect conversions even among the most daring satirists of His
church. 41 To stress this point, the narrator refers to the person who acted out
the role of the baptizing bishop as "the bishop of actresses and not Chris-
tians" (2, p. 271.31-32). In addition, the story speaks to the nature of the
baptismal sacrament. That baptism is a valid and efficacious rite even with-
out the involvement of a properly consecrated priest was a theological issue

that was debated and decided upon during the disputes regarding the treat-
ment of the lapsi, particularly in the course of the Donatist controversy.42
In the text, Porphyry's conversion arises from a marvelous vision that he
and others in the theater received. The author describes a chorus of angelic
voices filling the theater and the city, to the great astonishment of the
thronging crowds (3, p. 271. I5-I9). Porphyry prays to the east, toward
Christ and the angelic hosts; others in the audience are likewise so im-
pressed by this epiphany that many, having accepted baptism, began to don
the white robes of the baptized' within the theater itself. This newly bap-
tized group then proceeds to the Christian church of the city and is only
there received by the bishop (4, p. 272.3-I I). The spatial movement from
theater to church parallels the symbolic passage from an old form of life to
a new one.
But more is to come. Urged on by the local priest of Apollo, Count
Alexanderhrings Porphyry back into the theater for a test (6, pp. 272.34-
273.26). A bull having been introduced into the theater, the priest explains
that they will stage a contest to see whether the Christian God is more
powerful than the traditional deities. The bull will be slain and both parties
will then essay to bring it back to life by invoking the names of their
respective divine patrons. In the event-this being a Christian narrative-
the priest of Apollo utterly fails in the task even after he has called upon not
only Apollo, but also Ares, Kron~s, and all the other gods. Porphyry, on the
other hand, swiftly raises the bull to life by invoking the Holy Trinity in a
lengthy prayer and thereby wins this miracle test (6, pp. 673.27-274.I4).
Yet martyrdom follows triumph as the devil moves the comes to deny
what he has just witnessed. Inside the theater are statues of the gods,
including Apollo, Asclepius, Artemis, and Aphrodite. Porphyry, surveying
these statues, invokes the Trinity one more time to destroy the idols by
making them fall to the ground (9, p. 274.I5-3I). The stone agalmata
promptly fall off their bases and 'are dashed to pieces. The statue of Apollo
lands on the head of his hapless priest and kills hirn, on account of which
Porphyry receives his crown of martyrdom as punishment.
A far briefer story is told regarding Gelasinus of Baalbek/Heliopolis,
another Tau/mimus, who was martyred during the reign of a certain Maxi-
mus Licinianius. 43 His story is recounted in the sixth century by John
Malalas at the end of book I2 of his Chronographia. 44 Gelasinus, the deuteros
in a mime troupe, performs a mock baptismal scene before the citizenry of
a city famed for its theater and cult. After he has been thrown into the large
baptismal font, Gelasinus emerges from the water and is clothed in the
white 'garb of the recently baptized. Everyone is still laughing when he
addresses the entire audience, saying: "I am a Christian. For I have just
beheld the fearful power of God in my baptism and I will die a Christian. "
Upon this declaration, the entire audience becomes enraged and, having
dragged hirn from the theater, stones hirn to death.
The parodies of Christian rites would appear to be a natural extension of
the traditional practice of mocking the Mysteries on stage, particularly
amidst the carnavalesque atmosphere of festivals. The historical veracity of
the passiones of actor-saints aside, they belong in terms of narrative genre to
the same family as the Acts 0/ the Apostles, the apocryphal acts and accounts
of martyrdoms, most of which feature miracles, miraculous conversions,
obstinate magistrates, and martyrdom. With the various acta, these martyr-
ologies of actor-saints share the premise that the world remains divided
between Christ and the old gods, Christians and pagans, persecuted Chris-
tianity and persecuting paganism; and they dramatize these oppositions by
pitting the civic stage against the Christian church. The two are thereby
represented as irreconcilable communities such that membership in one
bars a person from the other. In this manner, these ac counts retain their
relevance in a Christianizing society where real pagans, let alone persecut-
ing pagans, were increasingly difficult to come. by.
Baptism in these stories serves as the key plot device that moves the
individuals along an inexorable and curtailed career from mocking outsider
to baptized Christian to martyr. Often one finds litde or no involvement of
the Christian clergy and church. Neither are there many discernible traces
of pre- or postbaptismal catechesis (a subject that we will take up later on).
These narratives are therefore highl y unrealistic in that they depict a kind
of eschatological conversion so prominent in early Christian accounts. They
reveal litde ab out the complexities of actual conversions, especially of stage
performers, in la te antiquity. By killing off the converted performers so
quickly and expediendy, the authors of these texts spare themselves the task
of oudining the challenges of living out a Christian way of life in the post-
Constantinian world.
Hagiography 0/ Penitent Actresses

While the passiones of Tau/mimi highlight and reify the implacable divide
between the Christian and pagan worlds, other, hagiographie accounts of
converted performers deal with more subtle issues linked to the rite of
baptism and the meaning of the sanctified life. One of the most famous
lives from this tradition is connected with the figure of St. Pelagia, a former
mime-actress of Antioch. 45 lohn Chrysostom, in one of his Homilies on the
Gospel 0/ Matthew, describes how a certain unnamed prostitute (1topvrj), who
also used to perform on the public stage, converted to Christianity and

forsook her former way of life: "Did you not hear how that prostitute, the
one who excelled all in wantonness, surpassed all in piety?"46 These and
other examples show God's ability to work paradoxical miraclesY The un-
named prostitute of this story most likely formed the basis of the later
traditions surrounding St. Pelagia, the so-called "harlot-saint. "48
Among the several saint Pelagias known to the tradition, the figure we
will be examining was a female mime and/or a prostitute in Antioch. 49 The
extensive manuscript traditions of the Vita Pelagiae have been studied with
care by Pierre Petitmengin and other scholars, who regard the Syriac manu-
script (c. 700) as the earlier extant text, containing many of the most
ancient elements. 50 The story in its present multiform state might have
arisen as early as the fifth or sixth centuries. In my discussion, I will mainly
draw on the Greek manuscripts from the tradition that Petitmengin has
labeled "Group y ," as well as on the Syriac text of Bedjan.
The Story as Told
J acob the Deacon, the fictive narrator of the vita! sets the stage for the
encounter between Nonnus and Pelagia in Antioch one week before Eas-
ter. 51 Nonnus, together with other bishops, has been summoned by the
metropolitan bishop of Antioch, a character never named in the story. It is
rather tempting to conjecture that the historical figure behind the latter is
the Porphyry described by Palladius as being a lover of luxury.52 This may
help explain why a visiting bishop, Nonnus, has been cast in the primary
role with respect to the conversion of Pelagia. In any event, on the Saturday
of the week before Easter, the bishops and the Antiochene congregation
gather at the Martyrium of St. Julian where the visiting bishops also hap-
pen to be staying. Quite by chance, the foremost mime actress of the city-
bejeweled, perfumed, and sumptuously turned out-appears at the scene
and overcomes everyone present with the radiance of her beauty.53 This
seductress is Margarito, the "Pearl," the most renowned and desired female
performer of Antioch. 54 She is also a courtesan, a fact that comes to light
later in the narrative. 55
Nonnus, the hero and main protagonist of the Vita Pelagiae! marvels at
her also and be comes so saddened by her condition that he begins to pray
to God to change her ways. Indeed, this first, otherwise extraneous, encoun-
ter enables the author to show how the temptations of the world affect even
bishops, the staunch defenders of the morality of Christian communities.
N onnus turns to inquire of his fellow bishops whether they have been
seduced by her beauty, something to which his colleagues are at first reluctant
to admit. Nonnus then confesses to having himself been aroused by the

sight of Pelagia and then proceeds to preach on the superiority of Christian
virtues, rooted in the permanence of Heavenly Jerusalem, to the all ures of
earthly temptations that are by nature, being of the world, impermanent.
On the following day, a Sunday, Nonnus is asked by the bishop of Anti-
och to preach to the people in the Great Church of Antioch. As he beg ins
a homily on the final judgment and the eternal hope of the saints, Marga-
rito arrives with her retinue of slaves, never having previously entered a
church despite the fact that she has long been a catechumen. Nonnus'
sermon ad populum moves Margarito to the point that a torrent of tears
streams out of her eyes as she listens to the bishop's words.
Here the Syriac text significantly diverges from the Group y manuscripts
in that it describes Margarito as being instantly transformed and afterward
making a public show of her repentance. I quote from Sebastian Brock and
Susan Harvey's translation from the Syriac:
. . . she was greatly moved and her conscience was pricked: tears
poured down as she sobbed, and amid heavy sighs she recalled all her
sins. She was groaning so much over her life as a prostitute that the
congregation became aware of her emotions. Everyone recognized her
as the city's famous playgirl, for as she groaned out aloud, people were
telling each other, "Ir really is the sinful woman, and she's been con-
verted by the teaching of the God-loving and holy bishop Nonnos.
She, who had never paid the slightest attention to her sins, has all of
a sudden come to penitence; she who never used to come to church, all
of a sudden has had her mind turned to religion and to prayer as a
result of the divine words she has heard from the mouth of the holy
bishop Nonnos."56
In contrast, the Greek MS Group y omits these comments and, as a result,

gives a more subtle meaning to Pelagia's spiritual transformation.
In the Syriac version, Pelagia then sends her servants to seek the bishop
after the homily and herself pleads with Nonnus to baptize her forthwith. 57
Her confession captures the ideological significance of the penitent actress
to the Christian tradition: "I beg you, have pity on me a sinner. I am a
prostitute, a disgusting stone upon which many people have tripped up and
gone to perdition. I am Satan's evil snare: he set me and through me he has
caught many people for destrucrion ... "58
Nonnus then seeks permission from the bishop of Antioch to baptize
Pelagia. The metropolitan, giving his hearty assent, exclaims that three
happy results will ensue: "It will please Christ, and it will edify the entire
church, as weIl as bring salvation to the life of this prostitute."59 His artic-
ulated hopes are exceeded in the Syriac text, for many of Pelagia's former
associates also repent and abandon their former careers as prostitutes; this
detail is omitted in the Greek. On the other hand, the Greek text of Group
'Y contains a rather lengthy ac count of Pelagia's elaborate preparation for
baptism, which she receives a week after her repentance or conversion.
Nonnus appoints Romana, chief deaconess of the church of Antioch, as
Pelagia's spiritual mother to help her through the catechesis and prepare for
baptism.
After she has been duly baptized and received into the church, Pelagia
makes her way to Jerusalem, to the Mount of Olives, where she lives out her
life as an ascetic disguised in male garb. 60 The journey from the public stage
to the cloistered community of the monastery is not an apriori implausible
event, as it can indeed be attested in early modern Spain, to ci te but one
example. 61 But it is the function of this narratival development that con-
cerns us most here.
Analysis
Comparison between the martyrologies of actor-saints and hagiographies of

penitent actresses may be made on several levels. A facile juxtaposition of
the two suggests that the martyrologies, which assume the reality of perse-
cution and a sharply dichotomized world featuring a pagan majority and a
Christian minority, express Christian concerns from the time of persecutions
while the hagiographies of penitent actresses speak to issues relevant to the
post-Constantinian age. But since texts of both genres in fact come from the
post-Constantinian era, such an analysis cannot be accepted. Indeed, al-
though the two genres differ greatly in their specific emphases, both insist
on a strict division between the sanctified or Christianized aspects of life
and those that remain secular or unsanctified/unsanctifiable, thereby ad-
dressing an important tension within a Christianizing society.
Hagiographie accounts of female penitents, including those of actresses,
have proved just as fascinating for scholars today as they have been for pious
Christian readers through the centuries. A few decades ago, the theme of
cross-dressing and gender inversion became a topic of scholarly investiga-
tion. 62 More recently, with the rise in interest in late antique female spiri-
tuality, scholars have returned to the lives of female penitents, such as Mary
the Egyptian and Pelagia of Antioch, with new and interesting questions.
Today, the Vita Pelagiae is commonly read alongside the lives of other har-
lot-saints as a text about female asceticism and spirituality. Yet both the
transvestism and the ascetic career of Pelagia are minor, even peripheral and
incidental, adjuncts of the main story. This becomes apparent when these
aspects are placed within the larger context of the work. Whereas in the
many biographies of female ascetics, the ascetic life of the heroine serves as
the central theme of the story, the Vita Pelagiae treats Pelagia's postbaptis-
mal career in Jerusalem in a perfunctory way, observing it from the distant
perspective of the narrator J acob. The work focuses upon the issues related
to catechumens and baptism within an urban community rather than the
practice of desert asceticism, which indeed informs other works such as the
Lift 0/ Mary the Egyptian J63 one of the Vita PelagiaeJs ancient competitors,
and the Lift 0/ MarylMarinus. 64
The priorities of the author of the Vita Pelagiae are also clearly revealed
in the relative lengths of the sections. In the modern chapter divisions of
the work, chapters 1-42 deal with the events that transpire in Antioch
(ending with Pelagia's disappearance from the city eight days after her
baptism) and only chapters 43-5 I are connected with her career as an
ascetic. 65 In contrast, the ascetic career of the heroine becomes the focus of
the narrative al ready by chapter 4 (of twenty-one) in the Lift 0/ Maryl
Marinus. Nonnus rather than Pelagia features so much as the central protag-
onist of the Vita Pelagiae that for the sake of accuracy the work ought
perhaps to be renamed Acta Nonni.
The narrative transformation of Margari to to Pelagia through the agency
of Nonnus speaks to what some Christi an leaders with pastoral concerns
regarded as the paramount challenge of their day: the sanctification of the
large number of catechumens. While the wholesale conversion of barbarian
tribes and Roman cities, which the author of the Vita Pelagiae attributes to
Nonnus, might be taken for granted in Christian triumphalist narratives,
the transformation of an individual sinner holding a nominal Christian
identity into a baptized Christian was often a more elusive prize. Placed
within this context, the Vita Pelagiae appears as a dramatization of the
process whereby a catechumen became a baptized Christian in any late
antique city.
CATECHUMENS AND BAPTISM IN LATE ANTIQUITY
During the third century, which for Michel Dujarer represents the "Golden
Age" of the catechumenate as an institution, Hippolytus of Rome outlined
a program of catechetical instruction and prebaptismal preparation that
required some three years to complete. 66 The church of Alexandria appears
to have had a similarly elaborate catechetical system at that time. Given the
threat of sporadic persecutions and the length of the catechesis, only earnest
and sincere individuals would have aspired to seek baptism, or so it was

believed.
The conversion of Constantine and the establishment of Christianity as a
religio licita introduced two new developments. First, many who became
"Christians" postponed their baptism as late as possible, sometimes until
their deathbeds. This phenomenon became a noted feature of post-Constan-
tinian Christianity until the practice of infant baptism gained in impor-
tance. 67 Second, the length of prebaptismal catechesis was shortened
significantly.
These developments may be seen as the unintended consequences of the
increasing influx of converts into a church that was transformed from a
persecuted institution to a privileged one that could dispose of legal priv-
ileges, patronage, and new career opportunities. Since most of these worldly
benefits accrued to baptized Christians and catechumens alike, few nonreli-
gious incentives existed for catechumens to become baptized Christians. A
catechumen could avoid the stigma of being a pagan as weH as defer the
strenuous demands placed on a baptized Christian. Postponing baptism
until the end of one's life also enabled more of one's sins to be wiped clean,
an important consideration for elite males who, in their capacity as magis-
trates, rulers, and military leaders, often had to commit acts regarded as
sinful for a baptized Christian to perform. Thus many, most famously Con-
stantine himself, chose to put off baptism as long as possible since, to quote
Eric RebiHard, "Le bapteme exige du chretien une telle perfeetion que
beaucoup choisiraient de le differer jusqu' au moment OU ils se sentiraient
capables de respecter les engagements demandes."68
While the practice of delaying baptism appeared prudent and attractive
from the point of view of the catechumens, Christian leaders-who often
themselves did precisely that earlier in their lives-opposed it. Notable
figures such as Basil of Caesarea, Gregory of N yssa, Ambrose of Milan, and
] ohn Chrysostom exhorted Christians to put themselves up for baptism
earlier rather than later. 69 Salient aspects of patristic preaching from this
time may be traced to such an attempt at persuasion. The suggestion that
deathbed baptisms are highl y risky, an emphasis on the immediacy and
terror of the final judgment, and the heightened mystery surrounding the
sacrament of the Eucharist, a rite denied to catechumens, may be seen as
responses to the phenomenon of delayed baptism. Likewise, when August-
ine refused deceased catechumens burial in sanctified burial ground con-
trolled by the church in spite of intense appeals, his decision stemmed from
the same concern. 70 Yet neither moral exhortations nor threats produced the
full desired effect in the short term.
raa SEEING AND BELIEVING
Among those who urged catechumens to prepare for baptism as soon as

possible was John Chrysostom, whose priestly duty in Antioch from 386 to
398 was to prepare catechumens for baptism. 71 In many of his Antiochene
exegetical and catechetical homilies, he tries to make the catechumens in
the audience realize that their present status is not tenable for the long term
and that indeed they are not true members of the community of Christ.
While he rarely discusses the precise nature of the catechumens' theological
standing, he unequivocally distinguishes them from the baptized. In one of
his Antiochene Homilies on the Gospel 0/ John! he draws the contrast with
rather stark language: "The catechumen is for the faithful an alien person.
They do not have, indeed, the same master, they do not have the same
father, they are not citizens of the same city. Food, clothing, table, the roof
of their house-nothing is the same. Everything is of the world for one,
everything in heaven for the other. Christ is the king for one, sin and the
devil king for the other."72
This theme is repeated in his Homily on the Gospel 0/ Matthew! another
Antiochene work, which equates the difference between the baptized and
catechumens with that between human beings and animals. 73 It may safely
be assumed that many among this preacher's audience would have demurred.
A catechumen, after all, was not a pagan. Nor was he even a Jew-and we
know that there were plenty of judaizing Christians in Antioch at the time.
We may surmise that Chrysostom advanced this doubtless controversial position
partly to motivate catechumens to accept baptism as so on as possible.
The period of prebaptismal preparation was drasticall y compressed in the
fourth century. A duration of two to three years appears to have been the norm
in the pre-Constantinian period. 74 In the mid- to later fourth century, catechu-
mens were receiving "crash course" catecheses that lasted only thirty to fifty
days. The pilgrim Egeria witnessed a seven-week catechesis in Jerusalem. 75 Cyril
(or John) of Jerusalem's Mystagogical Catecheses! delivered to the already baptized
as part of the postbaptismal catechesis, describes a forty-day penitential prepa-
ration leading up to baptism. 76 John Chrysostom prepared catechumens for
baptism in a mere thirty to forty days during February and April. 77
This abridged baptismal preparation became closely associated with the
observance of Lent, aperiod of fasting and penitence that emerged in the
fourth century. While the (probably Antiochene) Didascalia Apostolorum from
c. 200 does not link baptism with Easter, most catechumens in the later
fourth century prepared for baptism during the four weeks of Lent (the
Quadragesima) and received baptism around Easter. This process was for-
malized to include the following elements. Candidates first had their names
inscribed on a list of those seeking baptism in a solemn ritual at the begin-
ning of Lent. They were then examined by the clergy for their suitability to
CONVERTING THE UN-CHRISTIANIZABLE ror
receive baptism. Throughout Lent, the candidates attended sermons and

were exorcised by the clergy on a daily basis. After having sworn baptismal
vow,s and renounced Satan wirh a formula of abjuration, they were admitted
to baptism the day before Easter. In their newly baptized state, they then
participated in the Eucharist for the first time. The catechesis continued for
one week after Easter, during which the newly baptized returned to church
to hear daily expositions on the meaning of the sacrament--these were the
so-called mystagogical catecheses.
The shortened catechesis coincided with a greater expression of anxiety
over the postbaptismal behavior of those who made ready for baptism in
just over a month. Since the ecclesiastical authorities expected a high degree
of moral transformation of baptized Christians, they sought to introduce
into the baptismal rite elements that would reinforce the separation be-
tween the ethos of the catechumen and that of the baptized. Central to the
baptismal vow is the renunciation of the devil and all his pomp.
The Apostolic Constitutions gives the typical formula: "I renounce Satan,
and his works, and his pomps, and his service, and his angels, and his
inventions, and all things that are under hirn. "78 With its renunciation of
Satan and adhesion to Christ, the baptismal rite thereby satisfies one of the
demands that Arthur Darby Nock placed on a genuine conversion: that it
involve the transformative belief that the old is bad and the new is good.
The notion of defection from Satan is emphasized in the Vita Pelagiae when
the devil appears to accuse Pelagia of betraying her former master. Ir is
noteworthy that the catechumen was, in theological terms, regarded as still
living within the domain of Satan and that only the baptized was seen as an
adherent of Christ.
The baptismal vow defined the ideal outlook of the baptized Christian.
One of the consistently emphasized themes is the need to alter one's previ-
ous inclination to view the public spectacles. At the very end of the second
century, Tertullian associated the pompa Diaboli in the baptismal vow with
the spectacula put on in Roman cities. He does so in On Idolatry and Against
the Spectacles to establish a legal premise for arguing that the baptized could
not claim the right to continue to attend the shows (which he said they
were in the habit of claiming) since they had sworn to reject the pompa/
spectacula. Tertullian's lead was followed by many.
In the Mystagogical Catecheses, Cyril (or John) of Jerusalem reiterates Ter-
tullian's equation of the pompa Diaboli with the games, addressing the cat-
echumens preparing for baptism as folIows:
The pomp of the Devil is the mania for the theater, circus races,
anim"al hunts, and all such vanity, from which the holy one prays to
God to be liberated, saying, "Avert my eyes lest they be hold vanity."

Do not become readily addicted to the theater, in which [one finds}
the spectacle of the licentiousness, the lewd and unseemly antics of
actors and the crazed dancing of degenerate men [he then denounces
the amphitheater and the circus as weIl}. Flee the circus games, the
mad spectacle that perverts the souls! For all these are the pomp of the
Devil. 79
lohn Chrysostom explicitly incorporated admonitions against attendance

at the spectacles in his prebaptismal catechesis from Antioch. 80 This was not
an idle concern for apparently many Christians chose to attend the races and
the theater during the weeks before Easter and, according to Chrysostom,
even on the day of Easter itself. 81 He noted that Christians of all types, old
and young, went freely to the theater to gaze upon the immoral spectacle
put on by seductive actresses. Toward the end of a later Constantinopolitan
sermon against the spectacles, Chrysostom threatened those who might still
be tempted to attend the theater on Christian holy days:
Indeed I predict and pro claim with a clear voice that if someone after
this exhortation and teaching should run out to the wicked destruction
of the theater, I shall not welcome hirn within these [the church's}
walls. I shall not administer the sacraments to hirn nor allow hirn to
come into contact with the holy altar. . . . And so let no one out of
those who remain in the midst of the same fornication come into the
church, but let hirn be reproached by you and be an enemy to all. If
anyone does not obey our instruction in this letter, make note of hirn
and do not associate with hirn [2 Thess. 3: 14}. 82
Many were the requirements of this new postbaptismal Christian life. For
some Christians, the Roman penchant for the public spectacles represented
one of the most visible out ward signs of the unsanctified life prior to
baptism. Those who were baptized assumed the duty to abide by stricter
norms in part so as not to scandalize other Christians and provide outsiders
such as lews and polytheists with apretext to criticize the faith. Any one
who could not or did not wish to adhere to this moral code, Chrysostom
advised, ought to refrain from receiving baptism in the first place. 83
The Vita Pelagiae addresses these concerns about baptism and the status
of the catechumens in a memorable way. The renunciation of a highly
successful career on the stage would have been seen as a radical and difficult
choice, yet Pelagia did not hesitate to renounce the pompa Diaboli with her
words and deeds. The concern over the moral conduct of baptized Christians
also finds expression in the vita. Pelagia instructed her servants to dissipate
her wealth by donating it to the church for distribution to the poor. Here
the author editorializes to emphasize the need to ensure that donated funds
earmarked for the poor actually go to the poor and do not become diverted
to other purposes or simply rest within the church. This connection be-
tween proper almsgiving to the poor and repentance is a theme repeatedly
emphasized by late antique preachers such as ] ohn Chrysostom. 84
After remaining in Antioch for just over a week, Pelagia decamped qui-
edy for the Mount of Olives, where she took up the ascetic life in the guise
of a male monk. From the self-indulgent sinfulness of an acclaimed actressl
courtesan to the self-denying sanctity of a "male" ascetic: Pelagia's spiritual
transformation could not have been more complete. Many a late antique
bishop would have prayed that all his baptized Christians could have been
as serious about their baptism even if he might not have wished for too
many of his flock to become desert ascetics overnight.
The postbaptismal conduct of Pelagia set a high standard that most
Christians could not and probably did not want to meer. The reality was
more often otherwise. We have already seen how some baptized actresses
returned to their careers on stage despite ecclesiastical and imperial regula-
tions forbidding this practice. Concerns over just such backsliding could
have prompted the requirement, cited in the Vita PelagiaeJ that no courtesan
might enroll as a candidate for baptism unless she had a sponsor (or a
godparent) who would vouch for the sincerity of her decision and her com-
mitment to a reformed life. 85 But even ordinary Christians with ordinary
lives often failed to live up to the standards expected of the baptized. In this
respect, the story of Pelagia's radical transformation may be read as a calcu-
lated effort to persuade ordinary Christians of the importance of changing
one's behavior after baptism.
At issue was the authenticity of the decisions of those who sought bap-
tism, particularly at a time when prebaptismal preparation took litde over
a month. The emphasis on the decisive and even miraculous quality of the
spiritual transformation that produced actor/actress-saints serves to under-
score the authenticity of the individual conversions. The passiones depict the
Tau/mimi as pagan illusion-makers who were immediately and truly bap-
tized against their personal wishes, yet their determination to receive mar-
tyrdom afterwards speaks to the authenticity of their conversion.
While many late antique catechumens must have thought long and hard
about whether they should enroll for baptism, weighing in their minds the pros
and cons of such a choice, the decision of Pelagia to undergo baptism is not
presented as the result of deliberation. There appears no hint of hesitation even
though the impact of her decision proves nothing short of life-changing. Pelagia
is described as having been moved to repent of her former life by the preaching
of Nonnus. While not exactly a miracle, the transformation is described as
instant and unplanned, and therefore authentie and genuine. Certainly her post-
baptismal career serves to confirm this impression.
The dramatic tale of the transformation of a secular "pop star" into a
Christian heroine offers ample opportunity for extolling ascetic virtues and
Christian ideals of social and sexual conduct. 86 It reinforces the attractive
notion, for many Christian preachers and writers at least, that the true
Christian identity (as embodied in the status of a baptized Christian) in-
volves a radical rupture with the ways of the world and requires a visible
change in one's former habits, thoughts, and desires.
But such a not ion of conversion must be seen within the context of the
late antique debate ab out what being a Christian should mean in terms of
participation in public life. From the time of Tertullian to that of Jacob of
Sarugh (and beyond), baptized Christians had no trouble justifying how
their new identity was compatible with their previous habits and actions,
including attending the theater. 87 An imaginary interlocutor in one of J ac ob
of Sarugh's sermons denouncing the stage, a baptized Christian, defends
himself by saying that his attendance at the theater has nothing to do with
idolatry and everything to do with wanting to be made to laugh. 88 The
extent to which the theater had become a secular-that is, neither pagan
nor Christian-institution in the wider public discourse has to be recog-
nized and taken into consideration when examining Christian narratives
about the conversion or baptism of performers.
The new Christian attitudes toward the theater and its personnel mark,
in certain key respects, adeparture from classical elite attitudes. There came
to be an interest in the moral standing not only of the spectators but of the
performers themselves, particularly when they quit compulsory stage ser-
vice by means of baptism. Fascination with the implications of this suppos-
edly very radical shift in these women's moral careers fired the imagination
of writers in the fifth and sixth centuries. The solicitude for the fate of the
actress cum prostitute in the Vita Pelagiae and the confidence in her ability
to redeem herself in the eyes of God and men find echoes in the tone of
nearly contemporary imperial legislation.
THE REHABILITATION OF STAGE PERFORMERS IN A

CHRISTIAN EMPIRE
In the sixth century, it was popularly accepted that stage performers and
courtesans represented the antithesis of Christian holy persons, so that John
of Ephesus thought it especially noteworthy that a spiritual Antiochene

couple masqueraded as a male mime and a female prostitute to hide their
saintly way of life. 89 Penitent actresses in particular figured largely in public
affairs during the reign of Justinian. Not only was Empress Theodora,
whose career is discussed below, a former actress, but former actressesl
courtesans also appeared in the retinue of Severus of Antioch, the critic and
opponent of J ustinian and Theodora. 90 Yet here I wish to focus on the
ideological responses to the rehabilitation of actresses and how these re-
sponses embody changes that signal the advent of a Christian empire. I will
begin by considering a well-known law that directly addresses these issues.
Justin issued a fex generafis to Demosthenes, praetorian prefect of the East
from 521 to 522,91 that speIls out how penitent actresses ought to be
treated. The language is so remarkable that the law is quoted below at some
length:
Believing that it is a peculiar duty of Imperial beneficence at all

times not only to consider the convenience of Our subjects, but also to
attempt to supply their needs, We have determined that the errors of
women (lapsus mufierum) on ac count of which, through the weakness of
their sex (imbeciffitate sexus), they have chosen to be guilty of dishonor-
able conduct (indignam honore conversationem), should be corrected by a
display of proper moderation, and they should by no means be de-
prived of the hope of an improvement of status, so that, taking this
into consideration, they may the more readily abandon the improvi-
dent and disgraceful choice of life which they have made.
For We believe that the benevolence of God, and His exceeding
clemency towards the human race, should be imitated by Us (as far as
Our nature will permit), who is always willing to pardon the sins daily
committed by man, accept Our repentance, and bring us to a better
condition. Hence, We should seem to be unworthy of pardon Our-
selves were We to fai! to act in this manner with reference to those
subject to our empire.
(I) Therefore, as it would be unjust for slaves, to whom their liberty
has been given, to be raised by Imperial indulgence to the status of
men who are born free, and, by the effect of an Imperial privilege of
this kind, be placed in the same position as if they had never been
slaves, but were freeborn; and that women who had devoted them-
selves to theatrical performances (scaenicis fudis immiscuerunt), and after-
wards having become disgusted with this degraded status (mafa condicione),
abandoned their infamous occupation (inhonestam professionem) and
obtairted better repute (mefiorem sententiam), should have no hope of
obtaining any benefit from the Emperor, who had the power to place
them in the condition in which they could have remained, if they had
never been guilty of dishonorable acts, We, by the present most mer-
ciful law, grant them this Imperial benefit under the condition that
where, having deserted their evil and disgraceful condition, they em-
brace a more proper life, and conduct themselves honorably, they shall
be permitted to petition Us to grant them Our Divine permission to
contract legal marriage when they are unquestionably worthy of it ...
For women of this kind having been purified from all blemishes (mac-
ttla) , and, as it were, restored to the condition in which they were
born, We desire that no disgraceful epithet (vocabttlttm inhonestam) be
applied to them, and that no difference shall exist between them and
those who have never committed a similar breach of morality (pec-
caverttnt).92
There are two main provisions in this enactment that are also found in
the section De nttptiis in Justinian's Code. First, a repentant female performer
is to be granted full rehabilitation as if she had never been a scaenica; second,
she should no longer be referred to as actress or even ex-actress. Historians,
taking their cue from Procopius, have tended to read this law as an ad
hominem piece of legislation occasioned by Justinian's marriage to a former
actress, Theodora.
The marriage of Justinian and Theodora took place during the reign of
Justin when Justinian was a patrician. According to Procopius, the future
empress hailed from a family connected with urban entertainment. 93 After
the death of her father, an animal keeper for the Greens, her mother remar-
ried to a bear keeper for the animal shows. In time, the mother put her
several children on the stage as they came of age. 94 When it came to her
turn, Theodora assumed the roles of mime actress as well as prostitute
(E'taipa).95 Allegedly ungifted in music and dancing, she resorted to other
means to entertain her audience, including indecent exposure and lewd
performances on the stage. According to the Secret History! these perfor-
mances were linked direcdy with the offer of sexual favors for money.96
Someone with this kind of past was clearly unsuited for the role of empress.
But since Procopius's principal aim was to shock and outrage his readers
with the sordid past of an empress he loathed, his scandalous description of
Theodora's involvement in prostitution has been rightly called into ques-
tion. 97 Still there is litde doubt regarding Theodora's former career as a
mime actress; it is the imputation that she was also a flamboyant prostitute
that should attract our suspicion. A far from hostile contemporary author
described her as "formerly shameless but later chaste."98
These speculations went beyond Theodora's reputation to the legitimacy

of the dynasty. If she had truly been a stage performer or, less likely, a
prostitute, this fact would have entailed grave consequences for the legality
and offspring of the union between her and J ustinian. U nder the J ulian
legislation of Augustus, persons of senatorial rank were forbidden marriage
(iustum matrimonium) with actresses or former actresses. 99 The restrietion on
such mixed-status marriages was broadly affirmed in the later empire by
Christian emperors such as Marcian in a law of 454. 100 It remains debatable
whether the elevation of Theodora to the patriciate would have effectively
annulled the legal objection to their marriage. On the whole, this legal
consideration forms the basis of certain historians' claim that this law of
Justin was designed to make possible a iustum matrimonium between Justin-
ian and Theodora.
Yet was a iustum matrimonium necessary to a late Roman dynastie re-
gime?101 Constantine was widely known in antiquity to have been born
from the humble concubine of Constantius, Helena, who is referred to in
both sympathetic and ho stile sources as a stabularia. 102 Normally, a woman
who was associated with tavern keeping would legally have been deemed a
humilis et abiecta persona unless she was the landlady and not a hireling or
slave engaged in that service. 103 The excellent reputation of Helena as em-
press would seem to militate against the argument of those who wish to
claim that Justinian needed to rehabilitate Theodora for political reasons.
Further, given the background of the earlier fourth- and fifth-century
laws on penitent performers, the present law may instead be seen as a
product of the logical progression of late Roman legal thinking regarding
the status of such individuals. And the expressed rationalization of this law
shows how Roman legal thinking can be joined to a new Christian imperial
rhetoric. 104
The avowed goal of the law of Justin, as expressed in the preamble, was
to imitate as much as humanly possible the divine mercy that moved God
to forgive penitent sinners by providing a way to remove the blemishes of
past transgressions. Just as it was possible under Roman law for certain
slaves to regain a pristine freeborn status as if they had never been slaves
(quasi numquam deservissent sed ingenui essent), so too should stage women be
J
given the hope of redemption and a better life. David Daube reasonably
finds fault with this reasoning: "Slaves are wh at they are without fault,
actresses by their own choice."105 But the status of the individual will in
assenting to a person's condition is precisely at issue here. As many men and
especially women in late antiquity found themselves constrained to serve as
stage performers, it can hardly be said that all performers were performers
by choice. The law may thus reflect an honest appreciation of the new
conditions that attended the careers of such people and therefore as a rem-
edy of the apparent injustice of permanently blacklisting individuals for
carrying out duties that they were bound to perform by law.
Indeed, Justinian dispatched a law in 536 to John, praetorian prefect of
the East, giving leave to scaenicae sworn to perform on stage to abandon the
profession without danger of prosecution, saying that pleasing God was
more important than observing oaths. 106 But such laws also hint at the
diversity and complexity of local situations and the continued demand for
performers which at times became so great that officials had to compel
retired scaenici to appear on stage. The emperor eventually forbade officials
from forcing actresses to swear oaths to the effect that they would continue
to perform and threatened offending magistrates with stiff fines. 107
During the fifth and sixth centuries, Christian rulers publicized their
firm commitment to the chastity of actresses, circa castitatem stttdittm. 108 In
Ostrogothic Italy, Cassiodorus included in the Formttla tribttni volttptatttm a
"job description" for a tribttntts volttptatttm, an official who would undertake
the moral tute lage and supervision of stage actresses committed to the
public shows in Italian cities. 109
Laws that permitted actresses to escape the life of the stage, and prosti-
tutes to cease their acts of venal immorality, now began to express a concern
for their "chastity." This word had been largely absent in previous Roman
legal usage regarding these classes of women, who occupied a social space
that was worlds apart from that of respectable virgins and matronsYo JoHle
Beaucamp has noted that when describing the legal rationale for treating
women differently from men, the Justinianic laws invariably employ the
te.t;m fragilitas where classical jurists would have used the familiar phrase
inflrmitas sextts. 111 She further suggests that this may point to a shift in
official concern from feminine weakness to the need of females for protec-
tion. Even so, she describes this imperial position as aimed at "la protection
de la moralite des femmes plus que celle des femmes elles-memes."1l2
The sixth-century laws on performers demonstrate a definite departure
from earlier Roman discourses of order that are based on hierarchicall y
distributed notions of appropriate action and behavior. These legal formu-
lations now feature instead a discourse of universal moral order, in which
the fragilitas httmana that is common to all increasingly became a factor in
the rationalization of imperiallegislation. 113 In the law of Justin and Justin-
ian above, it is said that rulers who fail to extend the opportunity for
rehabilitation to actresses would themselves fail to merit the indulgence of
God (qttod si circa nostro sttbiectos imperio nos etiam facere differamtts, nttlla venia
digni videbimttr). Ideologically it was no longer possible to remain concerned
only with the welfare and conduct of the great and the good. Even members
of the httmiliores and personae probosae must now be considered. Thus official
edicts voice concern not just with transgression of social boundaries by the
respectable classes, as for instance in Augustus' Julian laws, but with the
moral condition of all and sundry, including socially marginal performers.
Yet this imperial concern for penitent actresses was never fully extended
to prostitutes, who could not hope to be fully rehabilitated even after
retirement. "Harlots who repented were never relieved of their disabilities
even by Justinian-contrary to the prevalent view which credits his great
reform Novel with a range it does not have."1l4 Instead of being reintegrat-
ed without blemish into society, as penitent actresses were thanks to the
new law by Justin, retired prostitutes retained their lifelong in/amia and
had to be institutionalized. Thus a convent or monastery named Metanoia,
"Repentance," was founded by Theodora to accommodate the former pros-
titutes of Constantinople; this may be ci ted as a uniquely Christian brand
of benefaction in that the classical world had not known such an institu-
tionY5 But we should not see Theodora as a pioneer in this regard, as this
would play into the hands of Procopius who wished this detail to lend
verisimilitude to his salacious comments about the empress's former career.
Earlier, under the guidance of Severus of Antioch, certain former prostitutes
had al ready begun to live together and were given protection through being
attached to a monasteryY6 The traditions of St. Pelagia, current in early
sixth-century Syria, might also have disposed lay and ascetic Christians to
favor such a change in attitude towards these public women. It is not clear,
however, why official attitudes towards performers and prostitutes should
have begun to diverge at this stage. Being an actress became far less repre-
hensible than being a prostitute; an actress was also regarded as more sus-
ceptible to reform.
CONCLUSION
Ir is not easy to draw comprehensive conclusions from the disparate mate-

rial we have examined. Looking at the circumstances that surround the
baptism of stage performers in late antiquity allows us to understand more
clearly the often competing interests of the groups that were involved in the
process. The ecclesiastical elite favored allowing scaenici/ae to become bap-
tized so long as they then quit the stage. The secular elite was wary that
this might enable performers bound to theatrical service to quit the civic
stage, but was ultimately unwilling to oppose their baptism. The perform-
ers themselves saw' baptism not only as a potent salvific sacrament but as
also an avenue of social mobility that might allow them to leave a compul-
sory hereditary profession. These often riyal claims and interests generated
complications for and shape both the nature and the pace of Christianiza-
tion.
The Christian narratives that dramatize these conversions/baptisms reveal
somewhat different concerns. In the hagiographical subgenre, as exempli-
fied by the Vita Pelagiae, the presentation of the central baptismal theme
highlights a model of conversion or repentance that one can readily describe
as "Nockian." Pelagia's metanoia signals a deeply felt spiritual transforma-
tion, and such a narrative of religious change became all the more expedi-
ent, as a form of religious persuasion, within a context in which conversion
and baptism were at risk of becoming munda ne and uneventful. Certain
Christians simply did not appear ready to accept the views promoted by
other Christians that there was and ought to be a sharp divide between the
sanctified Christian life and their long-standing and beloved customs and
practices. As many institutions, such as the theater, became secularized,
narratives such as the Vita Pelagiae helped to reinforce the notion that the
wall between the city (and the stage) and the church was a thick and
insurmountable one, not the permeable one that many indeed supposed. To
those Christians, unbaptized as well as baptized, who argued back that the
spectacles were not of Satan but merely of the world, such narratives trum-
peted the uncomfortable view that Satan remained the master of the world
and even of unbaptized Christians. Why penitent actresses and not penitent
actors? The figure of the actress embodied extreme elements of the devalued
and rejected Other; both the female gender and the profession of the actressl
prostitute brought horne the idea of an individual's ultimate debasement
prior to the grace of baptism. The resulting change seemed that much
sharper and more miraculous when the starting position was portrayed as so
very low. To take on male identity through transvestism as well as the
ascetic life, the highest vocation for a Christian in late antiquity, was to
reach the pinnacle of human achievement. The success of this genre must
have been due in part to the sheer miraculous nature of this thoroughgoing
inversion.
Finally, the late antique debate over the meaning of baptism influenced
if not produced the Christian narratives of actor/actress-saints. In these
texts, the emphasis is not only on the figure of the spiritual overachiever
but also on the ambivalent figure of the Christian catechumen. Recently,
the history of the catechumen has received much attention due in part to
the scholarship that has grown up around the Dolbeau Sermons of St. Augus-
tine; but this literature deals mainly with the Latin West. Yet I hope I have
shown that many of the same concerns and contexts are also relevant to the
study of late antique Christian communities in the East, especially given

the abundance of relevant sources connected with Antioch.
Pantomimes were last heard of in the sixth century. Mimes did not cease to
perform but increasingly appeared only in private entertainmentsY7 No
longer compelled to perform on the public stage at a cost to their own
salvation and their standing before the law, actors themselves receded from
public attention as most permanent stone theaters were put out of operation
in the seventh century. This decline of the late Roman public theater was a
development that many Christianssuch as Tertullian, J ohn Chrysostom and
Severus of Antioch had long hoped for.
But the decline of the public stage was not a victory that the church
could rightfully claim as due to its own efforts. Political and economic
transformations within the cities and the empire-these and other assorted
factors caused the cities to give up their entertainments much more than
ongoing ecclesiastical critiques. Stage shows continued as dinner entertain-
ment or at certain festivals, but now they took place in domestic settings
and not in the grand public places of the late antique city where they had
long been enshrined.
Even so, while the church was unable to take over or suppress the public
stage, which remained to some Christian writers an irremediably pagan and
polluted place, it could claim a triumph by making the most of the conver-
sion of individuals from the theatrical profession. By circulating edifying
narratives about martyr saints and penitent actresses, Christian leaders could
finally claim a moral victory over a secularized institution that they other-
wise found ultimately un-Christianizable. But the batde was not wholly or
even mainly fought with those who stood outside of the Christian commu-
nities. Instead, much of this rhetoric aimed to Christianize Christians, in-
cluding catechumens, who entertained views about the Christian life that
were often at odds with those advocated by many of the ascetically minded
preachers of late antiquity.
NOTES
I.I would like to acknowledge my especial debt to Peter Brown, Sus-

anna Elm, Anthony Grafton , Judith Herrin, Bonnie S. Kim, Samuel Lieu,
Michael Maas, Neil McLynn, Kenneth Mills, Eric Rebillard, Charlotte
Roueche, Raymond Van Dam, and Ruth Webb for their generous help. See
P. Brown, "Conversion and Christianization in Late Antiquity: The Case of
Augustine," in a forthcoming volume in the Bibliotheque de l'Antiquite

Tardive series edited by R. Lim and C. Straw.
2. R. MacMullen, "What Difference Did Christianity Make?" Historia
35 (1986): 322-43, reprinted in his Changes in the Roman Empire (Princeton,
N.]., 1988). On the fate of munera in particular, see G. Ville, "Les jeux de
gladiateurs dans l'empire chretien," MEFRA 72 (1960): 273-335; and T.
Wiedemann, "Das Ende der rmischen Gladiatorenspiele," Nikephorus 8
(1995): 145-59
3. See R. A. Markus, The End of Ancient Christianity (Cambridge, 1990)
and R. MacMullen, Christianity and Paganism in the Fourth to Eighth Centuries
(New Haven, Conn., 1997).
4. On the Christianization and secularization of the public spectacles in
late antiquity, see R. Lim, "Consensus and Dissensus on Public Spectacles in
Early Byzantium," in Byzantinische Forschungen 34, ed. Thomas Dillon and
Linda Garland (Amsterdam, 1997), pp. 159-79.
5. For a general treatment of the Roman stage in English, see R.
Beachem, The Roman Theatre and [ts Audience (Cambridge, Mass., 1991). For
studies that take the inscriptional evidence seriously into account, see 1.
Robert, "Pantomimen im griechischen Orient," Hermes 65 (1930): 106-22,
reprinted in idem, Opera Minora Selecta, vol. I (Amsterdam, 1969), pp. 654-
70; and C. Roueche, Performers and Partisans at Aphrodisias in the Roman and
Late Roman Periods (London, 1993). The ancient testimony regarding mimes
and pantomimes is collected in M. Bonaria, Romani Mimi (Rome, 1965),
which supersedes idem, Mimorum Romanorum Fragmenta, Pubblicazioni
dell'Istituto di filologia classica 5 (Genoa, 1955). For a treatment of the
literary and performative aspects, see H. Reich, Der Mimus: Ein literar-
entwicklungsgeschichtlicher Versuch, vol. I, pt. 2 (Berlin, 193), pp. 142-56.
See R. Webb, "Salome's Sisters: The Rhetoric and Realities of Dance in Late
Antiquity and Byzantium," in Women, Men and Eunuchs: Gender in Byzan-
tiuml ed. 1. James (London, 1997), pp. 119-48, for a fine discussion of the
social roles and perceptions of stage performers.
6. Whenever the Nachleben of the Roman theater becomes a topic of
discussion in learned circles, a question that is commonly raised is whether
the shows continued in a Christianized form as the liturgical dramas we
know well from the Middle Ages. The poser of such a question reasonably
surmises that, as would be the case with just about everything else in the
late Roman world, the stage surely also succumbed to the process of Chris-
tianization.
7. See Lim, "People as Power: Games, Munificence and Contes ted To-
pography," in The Transformation of Urbs Roma in Late AntiquitYI ed. W. V.
Harris, Journal of Roman Archaeology, Supplementary Series 33 (Portsmouth,

R.I., 1999), pp. 26 5-8 1.
8. See W. E. Klingshirn, Caesarius of Ar/es: The Making of a Christian
Community in Late Antique Gaul (Cambridge, 1994), esp. pp. 171-243.
9. See W. Weissmann, Kirche und Schauspiele: Die Schauspiele im Urteil der
lateinischen Kirchenvater unter besonderer Bercksichtigung von Augustin, Cassi-
acum 27 (Wrzburg, 1972), pp. 33-54, 72-77. On Christian polemics
against the theater and dancing generally, see C. Andresen, "Altchristliche
Kritik am Tanz: Ein Ausschnitt aus dem Kampf der Alten Kirche gegen
heidnische Sitte," Zeitschrift fr Kirchengeschichte 72 (1962): 217-62.
10. See, e.g., B. Warnecke, "Die brgerliche Stellung des Schauspielers
in alten Rom," NJA 17 (1914): 95-19; T. Frank, "The Status of Actors at
Rome," Chiron 26 (193 I): I I-20; J. E. Spruit, Die juridische en sociale positie
van de romeinse acteurs (Assen, 1966); M. Ducos, "La condition des acteurs a
Rome: Donnees juridiques et sociales," in Theater und Gesellschaft im Imperi-
um Romanum, ed. J. Blnsdorf (Tbingen, 1990); and H. Leppin, Histrionen:
Untersuchungen zur sozialen Stellung von Bhnenknstlern im Westen des rmischen
Reiches zur Zeit der Republik und des Principats (Bonn, 1992).
I I. Liber Syromanus 9 (London MS); German translation in K. G. Bruns
and E. Sachau, Syrisch-rmisches Rechtbuch aus dem fnften Jahrhundert (Leipzig,
1880), p. 7. On how the work treats the legal status of performers, see
Spruit, Romeinse acteurs, pp. 236-38. On this work as used and transmitted
within an ecclesiastical context, possibly in connection with' the episcopalis
audientia, see W. Selb, "Zur Bedeutung des syrisch-rmischen Rechtsbuchs,"
Mnchener Beitrage zur Papyrusforschung und antiken Rechtgeschichte 49-5 I
(1964): 262-63.
12. Hippolytus, Traditio Apostolica 16 (Hippolyte de Rome, La Tradition
apostolique d'apres les anciennes versions, Sources Chretiennes I I bis, 2d ed.
[Paris, 1968], pp. 7-71): "Inquiretur autem de operibus et occupationibus
eorum qui adducuntur ut instruuntur (KUTIlX!=.t0'8at) in quo sinto Si quis est
nopvooO'KO'; vel qui nutrit meretrices (nopvr,) vel ces set vel reiciatur. . Si
quis est scenicus (8Ea1:pt KO';) vel qui faci t demonstrationem (i)1tOEt~t';) in
theatro (8eu'tpov) vel cesset vel reiciatur." The passage then goes on to say
much the same thing about charioteers, gladiators, and anima1 fighters.
13. Aug., De fide et operibus 18.33: "Quia nescio ubi peregrinatur, quando
meretrices et histriones et quilibet alii publicae turpitudinis professores,
nisi solutis aut disruptis talibus vinculis, ad christiana sacramenta non per-
mittuntur accedere."
14. Decreta Eccl. Africae canon 45: "Ut scenicis histrionibus ceterisque
huiusmodi personis vel apostaticis conversis vel reversis ad Dominum, gra-
tia vel re conciliatio non negetur"; also, Concilium Illiberitanum canon 62: "Si
auriga aut pantomimus credere voluerint, placuit ut prius artibus suis re-
nuntient, et tunc demum suscipiantur, ita ut ulterius ad ea non revertantur,
qui se facere contra interdictum tentaverint, proiiciantur ab ecclesia."
15. See Aug., De baptismo contra Donatistas, PL 43:17-244.
16. The rise of collegia necessaria dedicated to the performance of public
functions occurred some time during the later third century but their his-
tory is only adequately known with the coming of the fourth, see J.-P.
Waltzing, Etude historique sur les corporations professionnelles chez les Romains
depuis les origines jusq'a la chute de l'Empire d'Occident, vol. 2 (Louvain, 1896),
pp. 298-320; and F. M. de Robertis, Il fenomeno associativo nel mondo romano,
dai collegi della repubblica alle corporazioni del Basso Impero (Napies, 1955), pp.
162-85. A fourth-century inscription from Rome is particularly relevant to
these collegia in the city: see R. Ambrosino, "Riferimenti all'ordinamento
associativo romano," Bulletino della commissione circheologica deI governatorato di
Roma (Rome, 1939), pp. 85-94. On the impact of this development on
families, see J. Gaudemet, "Tendances nouvelles de la legislation familiale
au IVe siecle," in Transformation et conflits au IVe siede apres J.-c., ed. A.
Alfldi and J. Straub (Bonn, 1978), pp. 191-92.
17. The text was originally published by the Maurist Dom Luc d'Achery;
the more recent redaction appears in C. Lepelley, "Trois documents mecon-
nus sur l'histoire sociale et religieuse de l'Afrique romaine tardive retrouves
parmi les spuria de Sulpice Severe," Antiquites africaines 25 (1989): 258:
"Licet domnus et germanus meus de uestra petierit honestate ut Tutum
uelitis esse tutissimum, tarnen mihi fas fuit eundem litteris commendare, ut
conduplicata petitione tutior habeatur. Huic enim nocuerit puerilis culpa
est error aetatis incertae, ut annorum suorum initia macularet; sed qui
necdum sciret quid bonis moribus deberetur, proprie sine culpa peccauit.
Nam se ubi ad bonam mentem considerationemque conuertit, intellexit
uitam scenicam consilio meliore damnandam. Huic autem plena non pos set
euenire purgatio, nisi diuinitatis accessu delicta dilueret; si quidem cathol-
icae religionis remedio conmutatus, usum si bi loci turpioris negauit seque
ab oculis popularibus uindicauit. Domini (ut supra), quomodo itaque et
diuinae leges et publicae fidele corpus et sanctificatos animos non permit-
tunt inhonestas exhibere delicias et uulgares edere uoluptates, maxime cum
castae deuotionis quodammodo uideatur inuria, si quis sacro baptismate
renouatus in ueterem lasciuiam reuocetur, oportet laudabilitatem uestram
bonis fauere propositis, ut is qui beneficio Dei pium munus indeptus est, in
foueam theatralern cadere non cogatur. Vestrum tarnen omnium iudicium
non recusat, si alias iniungatis congruas pro necessitate communis patriae
functiones."
18. Cod. lust. 2.1I.2I. The major classical sources on infamia are: lust.
Dig. 3.2 ("De his qui notantur infamia"); Cod lust. 2.12 ("De causis, ex
quibus infamia alicui inrogatur"); and Tabula Heracfeensis (= Lex lufia Mu-
nicipalis). For modern discussions of the implications of infamia, see A. H.
J. Greenidge, lnfamia: lts Place in Roman Pubfic and Private Law (Oxford,
1894); 1. Pommeray, Etudes sur l'infamie en droit romain (Paris, 1937); M.
Kaser, "lnfamia und ignominia in den rmischen Rechtsquellen," Zeitschrift
fr Rechtsgeschichte 73 (195 6): 220-78; Barbara Levick, "The Senatus consul-
tum from Larinum," Journal of Roman Studies 73 (1983): 97-115, esp. 108-
10; and Spruit, Romeinse acteurs, p. 116.
19. These laws are preserved in the mid-fifth-century Theodosian Code
and the mid-sixth-century Justinianic Digest and Code. Comparison of these
two collections is usually focused on the respective functions of the codes
themselves; see B. Sirks, "From the Theodosian to the Justinian Code," in
Atti deff'Accademia Romanistica Costantiniana, VI Convegno Internazionale
(Napies, 1986), pp. 265-32; W. Turpin, "The Purpose of the Roman Law
Codes," Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung fr Rechtsgeschichte 104 (1987): 620-
30. See now the contributions in J. Harries and 1. Wood, eds., The Theodo-
sian Code (Ithaca, N.Y, 1993), especially D. Hunt, "Christianizing the Roman
Empire: The Evidence of the Code," pp. 143-60; T. Honore, Law in the
Crisis of Empire 379-455 A.D.: The Theodosian Dynasty and lts Quaestors (with
a Palingenesia of Laws of the Dynasty) (Oxford, 1998); and J. Matthews,
Laying Down the Law: A Study of the Theodosian Code (New Haven, Conn.,
2000).
20. See Cod. Theod. 15.7.1. On the Christian fear of death and judgment
and the need for baptism prior to this eventuality, see E. Rebillard, In hora
mortis: Evolution de la pastorale chretienne de la mort aux IVe et Ve siecfes dans
l'Occident latin, BEFAR 284 (Rome, 1984), esp. pp. 129-34.
2 I. Cod. Theod. 15.7. I: "Scaenici et scaenicae, qui in ultimo vitae ac
necessitate cogente interitus inminentis ad dei summi sacramenta proper-
arunt, si fortasse evaserint, nulla posthac in theatralis spectaculi conventione
revocentur." Generally on the status of actors in Cod. Theod., see Spruit,
Romeinse acteurs, pp. 197-225.
22. See Cod. Theod. 14.3.11; and Waltzing, Etude historique sur les corpora-
tions proJessionneffes, 2: 3 I 2- 15.
23. D. R. French, "Christian Emperors and Pagan Spectacles: The Secu-
larization of the ludi, A.D. 382-525" (Ph.D. diss., University of California at
Berkeley, 1985), p. 188, notes that most of the laws on the baptism of
scaenici originated in the Western court, which is true as regards the earlier
laws. It is not clear to me exactly why female performers in particular
became the object of such predatory poaching. Their popularity with the
people as weH as the insufficient numbers of those in post must have con-
tributed to the problem. See now also idem, "Maintaining Boundaries: The
Status of Actresses in Early Christian Society," Vigiliae Christianae 52 (1998):
293-3 18 .
24. Cod. Theod. 15.7.2: "Ex scaenicis natas, si ita se gesserint, ut proba-
biles habeantur, tua sinceritas ab inquietantium fraude direptionibusque
submoveat. Eas enim ad scaenam de scaenicis natas aequum est revocari, quas
vulgarem vitam conversatione et moribus exercere et exercuisse constabit."
2 5. C od. T heod. I 5 .7.5: "Quisquis thymelicam ex urbe venerabili inmemor
honestatis abduxerit eandemque in longinqua transtulerit seu etiam intra
domum propriam, ita ut voluptatibus publicis non serviat, retentarit, quinque
librarum auri inlatione multetur." On the theft of actors, see Cod. lust.
11.41.5 (409). This law added venatores and scaenici to the list of "protected
persons" which had previously included charioteers. On the tribunus vo-
luptatum, whose duty it was to ensure regular theatrical performances in
Rome and elsewhere, see Cod. Theod. 15.7.13; and R. Lim, "The tribunus
voluptatum in the Later Roman Empire," Memoirs 0/ the American Academy in
Rome 4 1 (1996): 163-73.
26. Cod. Theod. 15.704: "Mulieres, quae ex viliori sorte progenitae spec-
taculorum debentur obsequiis, si scaenica officia declinarint, ludicris minis-
teriis deputentur, quas necdum tarnen consideratio sacratissimae religionis
et Christianae legis reverentia suae fidei mancipavit; eas enim, quas melior
vivendi usus vinculo naturalis condicionis evolvit, retrahi vetamus. Illas
etiam feminas liberas a contubernio scaenici praeiudicii durare praecipimus,
quae mansuetudinis nostrae beneficio expertes muneris turpioris esse
meruerunt." An almost identical law containing this provision was ad-
dressed by the same emperors to Herasius, proconsul of Africa; see Cod.
Theod. 15.7.9: "Quaecumque ex huiusmodi faece progenitae scaenica officia
declinarint, ludicris ministeriis deputentur, quas necdum tarnen sanctissi-
mae religionis et in perenne servandae Christianae legis secretorum reveren-
tia suae fidei vindicarit. Illas etiam feminas liberatas contubernio scaenici
praeiudicii durare praecipimus, quae mansuetudinis nostrae beneficio ex-
pertes muneris turpioris esse meruerunt." The language of this law is con-
siderably more abusive: the women were characterized as originating ex
huiusmodi /aece.
27. Cod. Theod. 15.7.8: "Scaenae mulier si vacationem religionis nomine
postularit, obtentu quidem petitionis venia ei non desit, verum si post
turpibus volutata conplexibus et religionem quam expetierit prodidisse et
gerere quod officio desierat animo tarnen scaenica detegetur, retracta in
pulpitum sine spe absolutionis uHius ibi eo usque permaneat, donec anus
ridicula senectute deformis nec tunc quidem absolutione potiatur, cum ali-
ud quam casta esse non possit."
28. Cod. Theod. 15.7.13: "Mimas diversis adnotationibus liberatas ad pro-
prium officium summa instantia revocari decernimus, ut voluptatibus pop-
uli ac festis die bus solitus ornatus deesse non possit."
29. Aug., Civ. Dei 1.3. The theatrical shows were offered daily in Carthage
in the period just after the sack of Rome. Augustine notes with great
disapproval the zeal that these dislocated Romans exhibited for the shows.
See Lim, "Tribunus voluptatum."
30. Cod. lust. I A. 14: Myrte OOUAOV /lyrte .Aeu8epov crro/lU 'toA/la'tffi 'tt~ ei~
1tOpveiuv 1tp6uyetv ~ 1tpOl(r'taVat, /ll1OE el 8U/leAtKO~ eLll Tl AAffi~ crKllvtK6~ ... ot~
/leATtO'et 'to /l110e KOUO'UV YUVUtKU OOUAllV EAeu8epuv O'UVetVat O'uYXopetV /li/lot~ Ti
AAllV 8euv .v 'tot~ 8ea'tpot~ .K'teAetV avuYKaSe0'8at.
3 I. On the legal status of actions performed by individuals under duress
and how they could be nullified, see lust. Dig. 4.2.1-23.
32. See lust. Dig. 23.2A4 for different definitions of who should count as
a humilis abiectaque persona.
33. Cod. Theod. 15.8.2 (issued in 428): "Lenones patres et dominos, qui
suis filiis vel ancillis peccandi necessitatem inponunt, nec iure frui dominii
nec tanti criminis patimur libertate gaudere." This principle was repeated
in Cod. lust. 1.4.12 and 11.41.6 where it readsjiliabus instead ofjiliis. By
the sixth century, the trend of female children being sold into prostitution
might have become the dominant one.
34. See Table IV.I-4 on patria potestas. On its application during the
Empire, see A. M. Rabello, Effetti personali della ('patria potestas lJ : 1. Dalle
origini al periodo degli Antonini (Milan, 1979); and P. Voci, "Storia della
patria potestas da Augusto a Diocleziano," lura 31 (1980), 37-100. The
absolute authority of the paterfamilias over offsprings was reaffirmed by law
in the sixth century, see lust. lnst. 1.9: "Ius autem potestatis, quod in
liberos habemus, proprium est civium Romanorun: nulli enim alii sunt
homines, qui talern in liberos habeant potestatem, qualern nos habemus. "
Indeed arecent study demonstrates how the disciplinary authority of the pater-
familias influenced the development of late antique Christian mores, see T. S. De
Bmyn, "Flogging a Son: The Emergence of the pater flagellans in Latin Christian
Discourse," Journal of Early Christian Studies 7 (1999): 249--90.
35. Cod. lust. 6A4
36. Acta Sanctorum J 15 September and 4 November (1894), pp. 227-32:
Porphyrius, the one discussed in the text above; 15 September (1755), p.
37: another Porphyrius (d. 362); 18 April (1675), p. 213: Ardalion; 18
April (1675), p. 213: Glaucus; and J. Link, "Die Geschichte der Schauspieler
nach einem syrischen Manuscript der kniglichen Bibliothek in Berlin"

(Diss., Bern, 1904), vol. 1. See B. Von der Lage, Studien zur Genesius Legende
(Berlin, 1898), pp. 263-64.
37. C. Van der Vorst, "Une passion inedite de S. Porphyre le mime,"
Anal. Boll. 29 (1910): 258-75; Greek text, pp. 270-75.
38. See Joh. Mal., Chron. 12 and Chron. Pasch. 297; and W. Weismann,
"Gelasinos von Heliopolis, Ein Schauspieler-Mrtyrer," Anal. Boll. 93 (1975):
39-66. On their similarity, see Van der Vorst, "Une passion inedite," p. 266.
39. See Van der Vorst, "Une passion inedite," pp. 259-63. A cult of
Genesius, supposedly martyred in the early fourth century, already existed
in Rome later during that same century. One scholar has conjectured that
this actor-saint was originally the same as aSt. Genesius of Ades, whose
cu:lt was popular throughout Gaul and Spain.
40. References in the text are to chapters of the Vita Porphyrii, and to
pages in Van der Vorst, "Une passion inedite."
41. See French, "Christian Emperors and Pagan Spectacles," pp. 178-84.
42. This position was decided upon at the Council of Ades in 314. For
Augustine, this strong sacramental theology worked well as a defense against
Donatist charges that sacraments carried out by priests who were also lapsi
should not be valid. See Aug., De baptismo contra Donatistas 22, PL 43:121:
"Non est baptismum ille schismaticorum vel haereticorum, sed Dei et Ec-
clesiae, ubicumque fuerit inventus et quocumque translatus."
43. According to Weismamm, "Gelasinus von Heliopolis," p. 44, the
author has Valerius Licinianus Licinius in mind here.
44. Chronicon Paschale 269, ed. Niebuhr, p. 513. See A. S. G. von Stauffen-
berg, Die riimische Kaisergeschichte bei Malalas (Stuttgart, 193 I), p. 78.
45. The body of literature on St. Pelagia of Antioch is a copious one,
beginning with the text and critical study published by H. Usener, Legenden
der heiligen Pelagia (Bonn, 1879). Important recent works of French scholars
on the MS tradition are collected in P. Petitmengin, ed., Pelagie la penitente:
Metamorphoses d'une legende, 2 vols. (Paris, 1981), esp. vol. I; and his "La
diffusion de la 'Penitence de Pelagie,'" in Hagiographie, cultures et societes: IVe
a XIle siecles (Paris, 1981 ), pp. 33-47.
46. John Chrysostom, Hom. 67-68 in Matthaeum (PG 58, 636): "H OUK
TtKOUcrO'tE 7tros E.KEivTl 7tOPVTl, T, E7tt OcrEAYEi~ mxv'tos 1tOpEAacrcro, 1tav't0S 01tEKPU\jf-
EV EV EUAOEi~; This prostitute hailed from Phoenicia and held 'tu 1tPOHEtO
E1tt 't'ils crKTlVlls
47. Ibid.
48. On vitae of hadot-saints as a distinct hagiographie genre, see B.
Ward, Harlots 0/ the Desert: A Study 0/ Repentance in Early Monastic Sources
(Oxford, 1987).
CONVERTING THE UN-CHRISTIANIZABLE II9
49. The female mime and her seductive ways are contrasted with the
virtuous decorum of virgins by lohn Chrysostom: see French, "Christian
Emperors and Pagan Spectacles," pp. I92-93.
50. The Syriac text is in 1. Gildemeister, Acta S. Pelagiae Syriacae (Bonn,
I879); the text was revised and reissued by P. Bedjan in Acta Martyrum et
Sanctorum vo1. 4 (Paris, I896; reprint ed., Hildesheim, I968). An English
J
translation is available in Sebastian Brock and Susan A. Harvey, Holy Women

0/ the Syrian Orient (Berkeley, Calif., I987). For an evaluation of the textual
traditions, see Petitmengin, Pilagie la Pinitente I: I7, 290. See also idem,
J
"Diffusion de la 'Penitence de Pelagie,'" pp. 33-47.

5 I. The connection between the baptism of Pelagia and the time around
Easter is not explicitly corroborated by the text, as Neil McLynn astutely
observes, but is the most likely conjecture based upon existing internal and
external evidence. Within the text, bishops from nearby towns have been
summoned by the metropolitan bishop of Antioch to come to his city to
stay for more than two weeks, an occurrence certainly connected with a
major Christian holy day. The time around Easter would appear to be the
most fitting occasion for visiting clergy to come to Antioch: see F. Van de
Paverd, St. John Chrysostom The Homilies on the Statues (Rome, I99I), pp.
J
290-9I. Also, in the story the narrator ]acob seeks permission from his
bishop Nonnus to visit ]erusalem three years later in order to worship the
resurrected Christ in situ (V. Pelag. 43); presumably he re the reader is to
understand that ]acob's request comes exactly three years after Pelagia's
metanoia and conversion. External evidence consists of the fact that it has
become customary in the Greek East for catechumens to be baptized only
once a year--during Easter (see discussion in text, pp. IOO-I02).
52. Palladius, Dialogus I6, PG 47:53. On penitence as a "second bap-
tism" and the eucharistie rite as a form of remission for sins in daily life in
late antiquity, see Paul De Clerck, Pinitence seconde et conversion quotidienne
aux Illeme et IVeme siedes Studia Patristica 20 (Leuven, I989), pp. 352-74.
J
53. V. Pe/ag. 4, ed. Petitmengin, pp. 94-96,11. I8-25. Female perform-

ers are explicitly forbidden from wearing certain kinds of precious stones
and gems by an imperial decree of 393, see Cod. Theod. I5.7.II.
54. V. Pelag. 4. ed. Petitmengin, p. 96 ,11. 2I-22, 23-34; iou napeXE'tat
t' ~,.Hilty ~ nproTII 'tmv I-UIHXffiV Av'ttoxEia<; Kat UTII E ~v nproTII 'tmv XOpEtl'tptmv
'tou OPXllcr'tpou.Margarito resumes her birth name, Pelagia, following her
baptism, suggesting that her former stage persona has died with her stage
name.
55. V. Pelag. 4, ed. Bedjan, pp. 6I8-6I8; Latin translation in Petitmengin,
Pilagie la Pinitente I:293. The other versions are remarkably similar on this
J
point except that not all versions portray Pelagia as a courtesan as weH as an
actress. Her role as a prostitute is only explicitly stated in the Syriac and
Armenian versions. In this regard, the epithet "harlot-saint" may not be entirely
justified. On the other hand, her role as a stage performer is a consistent theme.
The Syriac text even retains the Greek word mimas in this context
56. V. Pelag. 18, ed. Bedjan, pp. 626-27; Brock and Harvey, Holy Women,
pp. 47-4 8 .
57 V. Pelag. 23- 24, ed. Bedjan, pp. 62 9-3 1; Brock and Harvey, Holy i'
Women, pp. 49-50. I
58. V. Pelag. 23, ed. Bedjan, p. 629; Brock and Harvey, Holy Women, pp.
49-50. The admission that she hails from a "deep ditch of mire" (V. Pelag. ,
23, 26) recalls t!fe imperial rhetoric in Cod. T heod. 15.7.9 that brands
scaenicae as women ex huiusmodi /aece.
59. V. Pelag. 28, ed. Bedjan, pp. 632-33; Brock and Harvey, Holy Women,
p. 51.
60. On Pelagia's place in the tradition of early Byzantine female saints
who cross-dressed as male monks, see E. Patlagean, "L'histoire de la femme
deguisee en moine et l'evolutionde la saintete feminine a Byzance," Studi
Medievali, 3d ser., 17 (1976): 61 I: "Elle [Pelagial represente la feminite
charnelle poussee a son extreme, mais elle n'est pas liee a un partenaire
masculin qui ait le droit de la retenir." The hagiographie genre of transves-
tite female saints remained popular up to the ninth century at least.
61. Admittedly, such references are few and in the minority even for
actresses. Notable is the career of one Baltasara de los Reyes, who left the
performing profession at the height of her farne in the first few years of the
seventeenth century and entered a monastery dedicated to John the Baptist
near Cartagena. A generation later, Maria Calderon, a married woman, joined
the nunnery of Villahermoso in Guadalajara where she later served as abbess
and "repenting of her sins, there are those who assure us that she died in the
odor of sanctity." See H. A. Rennert, "Spanish Actors and Actresses between
1560 and 168o," Revue Hispanique 16 (1907): 362-63 (Calderon), 476 (Reyes).
62. Patlagean, "L'histoire de la femme deguisee en moine."
63. 1. 1. Coon, Sacred Fictions: Holy Women and Hagiography in Late Antiq-
uity (Philadelphia, 1997), pp. 71-94, builds a chapter around the two vitae
and suggests that they share common concerns regarding "desert spirituality."
64. See M. Richard, "La vie ancienne de sainte Marie surnommee Mari-
nos," in Corona Gratiarum: Miscellanea Patristica et Liturgica Eligio Dekkers
O.S.B. XII lustra complenti oblata, vol. I (Bruges, 1975), pp. 83-115; Greek
text, pp. 87-94.
65. The Greek MSS of Group y of the Acta Pelagiae have as their titulus:
ME'tclVOW TIj<; 6aia<; IIEAayia<;. Overall, the moral of the vita has to do with
repentance.
66. M. Dujarer, A History 01 the Catechumenate: The First Six CenturiesJ tr.
Edward J. Haasl (New York, 1979), passim. See A. Laurentin and M. Du-
jarer, Catechumenat; Donnees de l'histoire et perspectives nouvelles (Paris, 1969).
67. See J. Jeremias, Le bapteme des enlants pendant les quatres premiers sdes
(Lyons, 1967); and E. Ferguson, "Inscriptions and the Origin of Infant
Baptism," jTSJ n.s. 30 (1979): 37-46. But even in the fifth century, the
baptism of infants was often reserved for those who were at risk of dying,
see S. Poque, "Un souci d'Augustin: La perseverance des chretiens baptises
dans leur enfance," Bulletin de Litterature Ecdesiastique 88 (1987): 273-86.
68. E. Rebillard, "La figure du catechumene et le probleme du delai du
bapteme dans la pastorale d' Augustin: Apropos du post-tractatum Dolbeau
7: De sepultura catehcumenorum J" in Augustin pridicateur (395-4II)JJ ed. G.
Madec, Actes du Colloque International de Chantilly (5-7 septembre 1996)
(Paris, 1998), p. 285.
69. See A. Piedagnel, ed., jean Chrysostome: Trois catecheses baptismalesJ
Sources Chretiennes 366 (Paris, 1990), appendix 3: "Bapteme tardif et bap-
terne des enfants."
70. On Augustine's De sepultura catechumenorum J see Rebillard, "La figure
du catechumene."
7 I. See M. von Bonsdorff, Zur Predigtt'tigkeit des johannes Chrysostomus:
Biographisch-chronologische Studien ber seine Homilienserien zu neutestamentlichen
Bchern (Helsinki, 1922), pp. 3-13. On the liturgical setting of Chrysos-
tom's Antioch, see now Wendy Mayer and Pauline Allen, john Chrysostom
(London, 2000), pp. 17-25.
72. John Chrysostom, Homilia 25 in Iohannem J PG 59:151; my transla-
tion. Bonsdorff, Zur Predigtt'tigkeit des johannes Chrysostomus J pp. 28-29,
dates these sermons to 391.
73. John Chrysostom, Homilia 4 in Matthaeum 8, PG 58:48-49. Bons-
dorff, Zur Predigtt'tigkeit des johannes Chrysostomus J p. 14, dates this sermon
to 15 April 390.
74. The work that I have found most useful in parsing the views of the
various patristic authors on the baptismal rite is V. Saxer, Les rites de !'initiation
chritiennes du IIe au Vle siede: Esquisse historique et signification dJapres leur
principaux temoins (Spoleto, 1988).
75. Peregrinatio Silviae (Egeriae) 45. See T. Finn, Early Christian Baptism
and the Catechumenate: West and East Syria (Collegeville, Minn., 1992), esp.
p. 52; and A. Bludau, "Das Katechumenat in Jerusalem im 4. Jahrhundert,"
Theologie und Glaube 16 (1924): 225-42.
76. See Saxer, Les rites de !'initiation chritiennesJ pp. 196-98. These ser-
mons are also attributed to John of Jerusalem (387-417), Cyril's successor,
see ibid:, p. 195.
1
77. John Chrysostom, Catechesis ad illuminandos 2, PG 49:23 I-40. See A. I'
Wenger, ed., lean Chrysostome: Huit catfcheses baptismales inedites} Sources
Chretiennes 5012 (Paris, I957), esp. pp. 66-I04; and T. Finn, The Liturgy
0/ Baptism in the Baptismal Instruction 0/lohn Chrysostom (Washington, D.C.,
I967). Saxer, Les rites de Finitiation chretiennes} p. 248: "la catechese Chrysosto-
mienne est avant tout une exhortation et une initiation a la penitence
quadragesimale. "
78. Apostolic Constitution 7 AI (dated c. 360/380 and connected with
Antioch). See Finn, Liturgy 0/ Baptism} p. 57.
79. Cyril Uohn} of Jerusalem, Mystagogical Catecheses 1.6, PG 33:I069-
72); my translation.
80. John Chrysostom, Catechesis ad illuminandos 2.5, PG 49:239; Cat.
1.39-43, ed. Wenger, pp. I28-3 0 .
81. John Chrysostom, Contra ludos et theatra} PG 56:263-70, dated to
early July of 399 in Constantinople, not too long after his arrival from
Antioch: see now introduction and translation in Mayer and Allen, eds.,
lohn Chrysostom} pp. I I8-2 5. On Chrysostom's views regarding the theater
generally, see O. Pasquato, Gli spettacoli in S. Giovanni Crisostomo: Paganesimo
e cristianesimo ad Antiochia e Costantinopoli nel quarto secolo} Orientalia Chris-
tiana Analecta 20I (Rome, I976).
82. John Chrysostom, Contra ludos et theatra} PG 56:269; my translation.
83. John Chrysostom, Catechesis ad illuminandos Cat. 2.3, PG 49:234.
84. See John Chrysostom, Homilia de eleemosyna} PG 5I:26I-72; and see
now Peter Brown, Poverty and Leadership in the Later Roman Empire} The
Menachem Stern Jerusalem Lectures 2000 (Hanover, N.H., 2002).
85. On this institution in the pre-Constantinian period, see M. Dujarer,
Le parrainage des adultes aux trois siecles de tEglise: Recherche historique sur
t evolution des garanties et des etapes catichumenales avant 3 I3 (Paris, I 962).
86. The popularity of the Acta Pelagiae might have to do with its suc-
cessful use of the storytelling conventions of the ancient romance, see Z.
Pavloskis, "The Life of St. Pelagia the Harlot: Hagiographic Adaptation of
Pagan Romance," Classical Folia 30 (I97 6): I38-49.
87. See J. Maxwell, "Preaching to the Converted: John Chrysostom and
His Audience in Antioch" (Ph. D. diss., Princeton University, 2000), esp.
chap. 5 on the habits and customs of the Christians of Antioch.
88. C. Moss, "Jacob of Sarugh's Homilies on the Spectacles of the The-
ater," Le Museon 48 (I935): 87-I I2.
89. John of Ephesus, Lives 0/ the Eastern Saints 52, ed. E. W Brooks, vol. I9
of Patrologia Orientalis} ed. R. Graffin and F. Nau (Paris, I926), pp. I 64-79.
90. See Actio apud Praesidem Provinciae; in Acta Conciliorum Oecumenicorttm
3. I, ed. E. Schwartz = Collectio Sabbaitica contra Acephalos et Origenistas Des-
tinata 5 (Berlin, 1940), pp. 95-96. I wish to thank Peter Brown for bring-
ing this reference to my attention.
91. See PLRE 2:353-54, s.v. "Fl. Theodorus Petrus Demosthenes 4."
92. Cod. lust. 5-4.23; S. P. Scott, tr., The Civil Law, vol. 7 (Cincinnati,
1932), vol. 7, 15 0-51. Omitted from the above is a much longer section
treating the status of the children of such women, a topic that though
certainly central to the framers of the law, is not immediately germane to
our discussion. On the legal issues involved, see D. Daube, "The Marriage
of Justinian and Theodora: Legal and Theological Reflections," Catholic
University of America Law Review 16 (1967), 380-99; and Spruit, Romeinse
acteurs, 239-50. Generally, see F. M. de Robertis, "La condizione sociale e
gli impedimenti al matrimonio nel Basso Impero," Annali della Facolta di
Giurisprudenza della Universita di Bari 2 (1939): 45-69.
93. The story is told by Procopius in his Anecdota 9.1-34, ed. Haury,
pp. 57-62 .
94. Ibid. 9, p. 58: E1tEt8il 8E 'tclXHJ"ta Ee; 'tE nlV +\TJV aiKE'to Kat ropaia ~V
118TJ, Eie; 'tue; E1tt <JKTJvfje; Ka9fjKEv a'\)'tTJv, E'taipa E'USue; EYEyOVEt.
95. John of Ephesus even characterizes Theodora as having originated
in a brothel, in Lives of Eastern Saints, vols. 18 and 19 of Patrologia Orientalis,
ed. E. W. Brooks (Paris, 1923-25), 18:690ff.; 19: 1 53ff., 228ff.
96. Procop. Anecd. 9.
97. On the literary and political aims behind Procopius's scandalous
description of Theodora's early life, see E. A. Fisher, "Theodora and Anton-
ina in the Historia Arcana: History and/or Fiction?" Arethusa 11 (1978):
253-79; and Averil Cameron, Procopius and the Sixth Century (Berkeley, Ca-
lif., 1985), pp. 67-83.
98. Parastaseis Syntomai Chronikai 80, in Constantinople in the Early Eighth
Century: The Parastaseis Syntomai Chronikai, ed. Averil Cameron and J. Her-
rin (Leiden, 1984), p. 271.
99. The literature on this subject is vast. For the earlier period, see S.
Treggiari, Roman Marriage: lusti Coniunges from the Time of Cicero to the Time
of Ulpian (Oxford, 1991), esp. pp. 61-62.
100. See Marcian, Nov. 4 ("De matrimoniis senatorum"). In reacting to
a Constantinian law of July 321 (Cod. Theod. 4.6.3), Marcian's law defines
who constitute humiles abiectaeque personae and is therefore unfit for legal
marriage. The law rules that the freeborn poor are not to be considered as
belonging to this category and that only women and the children of actress-
es, tavern owners, pimps, and arenarii, and all those who offer themselves in
public for money, fall into this category. In its basic thrust, this law allows
the marriage between members of the senatorial ordo with freeborn hu-
miliores provided that the latter are not the infames personae mentioned above.
12 4 SEEING AND BELIEVING
101. On nonelite women and the practice of matrimonium, see J. Le GaU,

"Un critere de differenciation sociale: La situation de la fernrne," in Recher-
ches sur les structures sociales dans I'antiquite classique (Paris, 1970), pp. 275-
86, esp. pp. 283-84; and Judith Evans Grubbs, Law and Family in Late
Antiquity: The Emperor Constantine's Marriage Legislation (Oxford, 1995), pp.
29-9 1 .
102. On Helena as stabularia, see Ambrose, De obitu Theodosii 42; Philos-
torgius, Rist. Ecel. 2.16a (= Passio Artemii); Eutropius, Breviarium 10.2;
Origo Constantini Imperatoris 2.2 (= Chronica Minora 1.7); and Zosimus, Rist.
Nova 2.8.2 and 2.9.2. See discussion of this question in J. W. Drijvers,
"Helena Augusta: Waarheid en Legende" (Ph.D. diss., University of Gronin-
gen, 1989), pp. 16-20. The work has now been published as Relena Augus-
ta: the Mother 0/ Constantine the Great and the Legend 0/ Rer Finding the True
Cross (Leiden, 1991).
103. See Cod. Theod. 9.7.1 (326): "Quae adulterium commisit utrum
domina cauponae an ministra fuerit, requiri debebit, et ita obsequio famu-
lata servili, ut plerumque ipsa intemperantiae vina praebuerit; ut, si domina
tabernae fuerit, non sit a vinculis iuris, excepta, si vero potantibus ministe-
rium praebuit, pro vilitate eius quae in reatum deducitur accusatione ex-
clusa liberi qui accusantur abscedant, cum ab is feminis pudicitiae ratio
requiratur, quae iuris nexibus detineatur, hae autem immunes a iudiciaria
severitate praestentur, quas vilitas dignas legum observatione non credidit."
104. See E. Gianturco, ''L'influenza dell'imperatrice Teodora neUa legis-
lazione Giustinianea," in Studi giuridici in onore di Carlo Fadda per XXV anno
deI suo insegnamento, vol. 4 (Napies, 1906), pp. 3-12.
105. Daube, "Marriage of Justinian and Theodora," p. 388.
106. lust. Nov. 51: "Scenicas non solum si fidesiussorem praestent, sed
etiam si iusiurandum dent, sine periculo discedere."
17. Ibid.: "Ne a scaenicis mulieribus aut fideiussio aut iusiurandum
perseverantiae exigatur."
108. Ibid., Epilogue: "Quae igitur placuerunt nobis et per praesentem
sacram declarata sunt legern, tua celsitudo praeceptionibus propriis omni-
bus faciat manifesta, ut agnoscant nostri imperii circa castitatem studium."
See also Theodosius 11, Nov. 18 (439) on the emperor's concern for those
who might be forced into prostitution: "nostrae amore pudicitae castatisque. JJ
109. Cassiod. Variae 7.10 (CCSL 96:27-71): "Formula Tribuni Vo-

luptatum-Quamuis artes lubricae honestis moribus si nt remotae et histri-
onum uita uaga uideatur efferri posse licentia, tarnen moderatrix prouidit
antiquitas, ut in totum non effluerent, cum et ipsae iudicem sustinerent.
Amministranda est enim sub quadam disciplina exhibitio uoluptatum. Te-
neat scaenicos si non uerus, uel umbratilis ordo iudicii. Temperentur et haec
legum qualitate negotia, quasi honestas imperet inhonestis, et quibusdam

regulis uiuant, qui uiam rectae conuersationis ignorant. Student enim illi
non tantum iucunditati suae, quantum alienae laetitiae et condicione pe-
ruersa cum dominaturn suis corporibus tradunt, seruire potius animas com-
pulerunt. (2) Dignum fuit ergo moderatorem suscipere, qui se nesciunt
iuridica conuersatione tractare. Locus quippe tuus his gregibus hominum
ueluti quidam tutor est positus. Nam sicut illi aetates teneras adhibita
cautela custodiunt, sic a te uoluptates feruidae impensa maturitate frenan-
dae sunt. Age bonis institutis quod nimia prudentia constat inuenisse maiores.
Leue desiderium etsi uerecundia non cohibet, districtio praenuntiata mod-
ificat. Agantur spectacula suis consuetudinibus ordinata, quia nec illi pos-
sunt inuenire gratiam, nisi imitati fuerint aliquam disciplinam. (3)
Quapropter tribunum te uoluptatum per illam indictionem nostra facit
electio, ut omnia sic agas, quaeadmodum tibi uota ciuitatis adiungas, ne
quod ad laetitiam constat inuentum, tuis temporibus ad culpas uideatur
fuisse transmissum. Cum fama diminutis salua tua opinione uersare. Casti-
tatem dilige, cui subiacent prostitutae: ut magna laude dicatur: 'uirtutibus
studuit, qui uoluptatibus miscebatur.' Optamus enim ut per ludicram am-
ministrationem ad seriam peruenias."
110. Beaucamp, Statut de la fimmeJ p. 132.
I I I. J. Beaucamp, "Le vocabulaire de la faiblesse feminine dans les textes
juridiques romains du Ille au Vle siedes," Revue historique de droit franfais et
etrange~ 4th ser., 54 (1976): 504-6. See also S. Dixon, "Infirmitas sexus:
Womanly Weakness in Roman Law," Tijdschrift voor Rechtsgeschiednis 52
(19 8 4): 343-71.
112. Beaucamp, Statut de la fimmeJ p. 132,.
113. See G. J. M. Bartelink, "Fragilitas humana chez saint Ambroise," Ambro-
sius Episcopus: Atti deI Congresso internazionale di studi ambrosiani nel XVI centenario
della elevazione del santJAmbroglio alla Catedra episcopaleJ Milano 2-7 dicembre I974J
ed. G. Lazzati, vol. 2 (Milan, 1974), pp. 13-42; and idem, "Fragilitas (infirmi-
tas) humana chez Augustin," Augustiniana 41 (1991): 815-28.
I 14. Daube, "Marriage of J ustinian and Theodora," p. 395.
115. Procop. Anecd. 17.5-6 and Aed. 1.9.5-10; and John Malalas, Chron.
18.173, CHSB 28:440-1 and Nov. Inst. 14 (535). See also A. Sicari, Pros-
tituzione e tutela giuridica della schiavaJ p. 50 n. 43.
116. See Libellus monachorum ApameaeJ 17.14-17, in Schwartz, Acta Con-
ciliorum Oecumenicorum 3. I. These women had served a public function and
were quite lowly in social status and origins: 811flro811 yuvata ... hatpm yap
~(mv Kat ou8aflo8Ev EUYEVEtS.
117. See A. Vogt, "Le theatre a Byzance et dans l'empire du IVe au XIIle
siede, I: Le theatre profane," Revue des Questions Historiques 59 (r93 1): 257-
96; and Bonaria, Romani Mimi) pp. 16-17. Mime performances and dancing
would have continued in more private settings, such as banquets. See now
R. Webb, "Female Performers in Late Antiquity," in Creek and Roman Ac-
tors: Aspects 0/ an Ancient Profession) ed. P. Easterling and E. Hall (Cambridge,
2002), pp. 282-33. On the persistence of the popular culture in which
mimes, dancers, and prostitutes featured, see H. Magoulias, "Bathhouse,
rnn, Tavern, Prostitution and the Stage as Seen in the Lives of the Saints of
the Sixth and Seventh Centuries," Epeteris Hetaireias Byzantinon Spoudon 38
(197 1 ): 233-5 2 .
5
THE MANY CONVERSIONS OF THE EMPEROR
CONSTANTINE
RAYMOND VAN DAM
CONSTANTINE'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY
For almost eight hundred years a colossal statue of Constantine would pre-
side over his new capital of Constantinople. The Forum of Constantine was
located on the crown of one of the city's seven hills, its vast open circular
plaza designed to be areminder of the boundless ocean. This forum was a
central focus for the city, and in its center the great bronze statue of the
emperor stood on a tall porphyry column. From bottom to top the monu-
ment consisted of five steps leading up to a large platform; an enormous,
almost cubical pedestal; a square plinth; a circular base; the seven huge
drums making up the column shaft; a large decorative capital; and the
statue. During the fourth century the new capital was a boom town, and
from the top of this column, about 120 feet high, the statue monitored the
construction. The statue faced east, and behind it a main street led out of
the forum past the Church of the Holy Apostles to the city's massive land
walls. Before its gaze the street ran past the Hippodrome to the imperial
palace and the Church of Holy Wisdom. Its vista then continued beyond
the houses and monasteries and sea walls to the shimmering waves of the
Golden Horn, the Bosphorus, and the Sea of Marmara.
During the formal inauguration of the new capital in 330 a procession
first celebrated the placement of this statue on top of the column, before
proceeding to the Hippodrome. This statue of Constantine hence marked
the emplacement of a new legendary center for the city. Yet from the
beginning the significance of this statue was ambiguous, almost deli berate-
ly equivocal in its many meanings. One tradition claimed that the figure
had originally been astatue of Apollo in his guise as Helios, the sun god
crowned with- rays of light shooting from his head, and that it had been
brought to the capital from a provincial city and reworked into astatue of
12 7
the emperor. Another tradition daimed that buried in the base of the
column was the Palladium, an ancient image of Pallas Athena that had
supposedly been conveyed from Troy to Rome as a guarantee of Rome's
safety. Constantine had once considered founding his new eastern capital at
Troy. Since he was thought to have spirited away this image, its transfer
seemed to imply that Constantinople was to be the proper successor to both
Troy and Rome. In its right hand the statue held a spear. Since Constantine
had appropriated for hirnself the tide of "Victor" after his final victory in
the civil wars, this spear was areminder of his military successes. In its left
hand the statue carried a globe as a sign of the universality of his imperial
rule. In later times, during the annual ceremonies that celebrated the anni- I
versary of the city's foundation, soldiers escorted a gilded statue of Constan-

tine through the Hippodrome. This smaller statue may have been a dose
replica of the large statue on the column, and when it finally arrived at the
imperial box, the current emperor was supposed to bow in honor. Pagan
deity, founder of New Rome, conqueror, ruler, imperial forebear: the colos-
sal statue memorialized not just the foundation of the new capital and its
revered founder, but also many of the legendary images and associations
that had already grown up around Constantine. 1
For over a year before the inauguration of the capital Constantine had
been residing in or near Thrace. Presumably he had inspected the new
construction and helped plan the dedication ceremony. If in fact he had
imposed his own preferences, then it is possible to think of the statue as a
fragment of Constantine's autobiography, a text about hirns elf. The statue
was his story ab out his life and reign so far, and at the time he had wanted
to memorialize many different images of hirnself. Noticeably missing, how-
ever, was any overt indication of his devotion to Christianity. The Constan-
tine of the statue could have been almost any other Roman emperor, flush
with his divine support, his victories, his imperial power. This colossal
bronze emperor seems not to have been aware of any conversion to Chris-
tianity.
The absence of overt Christian allusions should not be surprising. Al-
ready soon after Constantine's reign historians were judging hirn against
other criteria. The emperor J ulian dassified hirn as a revolutionary for
having upset old laws and ancient traditions, and criticized hirn as the first
emperor to have appointed barbarians as consuls. 2 The historian Ammianus
criticized Constantine as the first emperor to condone the greed of his
courtiers. 3 The historian Zosimus, drawing upon the earlier historian Eu-
napius, thought Constantine was responsible for the collapse of the frontiers
because he had supposedly removed troops to the cities. 4 According to these
interpretations, Constantine had been an innovator all right, but in nonre-
THE MANY CONVERSIONS OF CONSTANTINE I29
ligious concerns. Already in late antiquity It was possible to evaluate, and

imagine, Constantine apart from his relations hip with Christianity.
The study of conversion in late antiquity suffers from being placed so
exclusively in a religious context or, more commonly, in a Christian context.
"Conversion" almost always implies conversion to Christianity. In fact, reli-
gious conversion was an aspect of larger trends and processes. One involved
self-representatiob.. Conversion was simultaneously very private and very
public. People looked inside themselves, and then made choices. But having
made those decisions, they then presented themselves, their new selves, for
public scrutiny and public evaluation. Choices about religious preferences
were similar to decisions about funding new buildings, constructing mon-
uments, participating in municipal festivals, even getting dressed and put-
ting on make-up: people presented themselves in public. People were always
converting themselves, imagining themselves, inventing themselves, and
religious conversion was but one manifestation of this process of self-repre-
sentation.
A second important context involved stories and narratives. A conversion
experience was a reading of, a response to, a particular situation. As such,
the original experience was already an interpretation oE a situation. Stories
about the conversion were subsequent readings of the original experience,
and historical narratives, both then and now, were additional readings of
those stories. "The historian works with the available evidence, the conver-
sion narrative; and that narrative can reveal . . . only the retrospective
moment, and the retrospective self."5 We his tori ans should have a special
sympathy for all who claimed or described conversions, since the experienc-
es themselves, the stories about them, and the historical narratives built on
those stories are so similar. They are all interpretations.
The conversion of Constantine was particularly rich in both images and
stories, both representations and narratives. Some of Constantine's own let-
ters have survived, and he himself was the source of the famous story ab out
his visions in 3 I 2. After the emperor's death, Eusebius, bishop of Caesarea
in Palestine, composed a Lift of the emperor in which he not only collected
many of Constantine's letters and stories, but also interpreted them. Euse-
bius provided a context for some of Constantine's texts. While Constantine
was contributing fragmentary stories and images to his autobiography,
Eusebius constructed a consistent life story. Eusebius' perspective has re-
mained powerfully influential. This is an unfortunately limiting outcome.
While the bronze statue of Constantine is allowed to have many meanings,
too often the goal among modern historians is to find a single trajectory to
Constantine's career. The following sections will discuss Eusebius' model of
Constantine's conversion, Constantine's own stories about his life, Eusebius'
reasons for appreciating one later change in Constantine's representation of

hirnself, and the fates of Eusebius' Lift and Constantine's statue.
EUSEBIUS' BIOGRAPHY
As Eusebius wrote his Ecclesiastical History! he barely knew anything about

Constantine. The future emperor had started his career in the early 290S as
a tribune in the Roman army, where he served under the eastern emperors
Diocletian and Galerius. Eusebius first saw Constantine in Palestine during
the winter of 30 1-2. 6 Constantine was already almost thirty years old, and
a member of Diocletian's entourage. About a year later, starting in February
303, Diocletian and Galerius would revive persecution of Christians by
issuing aseries of edicts. Upon the publication of the first edict aprefeet led
a band of soldiers and destroyed the church at Nicomedia. Constantine
hirnself would later note that he had been at Diocletian's court in Nicome-
dia at the time, although by describing hirnself as a me re spectator, he
seemed to protest too much. 7 The soldiers who destroyed the church had
included tribunes. 8 If, at the time he was drafting his History! Eusebius still
remembered the young tribune, it would have been easy for hirn to classify
Constantine as another eager supporter of a hostile imperial regime.
Eusebius completed the first edition of his History in 3 I 3 or soon after-
wards. 9 By then he could describe the termination of the persecution through
the edicts of toleration issued by Galerius in 3 I land the emperor Maximi-
nus in May 313.10 By then he also knew about Constantine's victories in the
Western Empire. Constantine had succeeded his father, Constantius, as
emperor in Britain in 306, and in October 312 he had defeated Maxentius,
a riyal emperor at Rome. In his description of the batde Eusebius claimed
only that Constantine had summoned God and Jesus Christ as his alliesY
At the end of this first edition he credited Constantine and Licinius, anoth-
er emperor in the East, with having forced Maximinus to end the persecu-
tion ofChristiansY A few years later, before autumn 316, Eusebius produced
an expanded edition of his History. The principal modification was the
addition of a tenth book, in which he cited six of the edicts issued by
Constantine and Licinius in support of Christianity.
During the decades when he was writing and revising his History! Euse-
bius would have thought of Constantine primarily in terms of persecution,
first as a possible supporter of the policies of Diocletian, then as a magnif-
icent patron of toleration. Even though his narrative eventually culminated
with the immediate aftermath of Constantine's victory in 312, during all
this time that Eusebius spent writing and revising his History he had no
THE MANY CONVERSIONS OF CONSTANTINE I3I
firsthand contact with Constantine. He certainly did not know about any
conversion experience.
In 325 Eusebius finally met Constantine for the first time at the Council
of Nicaea. less than a year before the emperor had defeated his riyal licin-
ius to establish his control over the entire empire, and Eusebius had already
lighdy revised his History yet again to include a few derogatory chapters
about licinius. During the remainder of Constantine's reign Eusebius had
only intermittent contact with the emperor. They exchanged some letters,
they probably met again at a council in late 327, and Eusebius visited the
imperial court at Constantinople in 335 and 336. But Eusebius was not an
intimate confidant of the emperor.
Eusebius nevertheless decided to wrire a biography. His Lift was a com-
bination of a panegyric, a collection of the emperor's letters and edicts, and
his own running commentary. Eusebius then combined these disparate ele-
ments into a narrative, more or less, of the emperor's life that started with
his early years and ended with his funeral. An early highlight in the narra-
tive was Constantine's personal, but still very public, acceptance of Chris-
tianity just before the batde of 3 I 2. The account that Eusebius offered in
this Lift was much more elaborate than the account in the History, first
composed about twenty-five years earlier. Eusebius now turned the events
leading up to the batde into ~ clear transition, a conversion, in the emper-
or's life. .
Setting up this transition required a carefully ambiguous narrative. Euse-
bius in fact knew nothing about Constantine's own religious affiliation
during his early years. He did claim, however, that Constantius, Constan-
tine's father, had been a sympathizer of Christianity. Of all the emperors,
Constantius alone had had "a friendship wirh God" (I.I3.I, p. 22). Yet
Eusebius still preferred not to make Constantine's Christianity a direct
legacy of his father's influence. In order to highlight the magnitude of
Constantine's conversion in 3 I2, Eusebius had to distance the emperor from
the allegedly Christian atmosphere of his father's court.
Instead, Eusebius placed the youngish Constantine in a thoroughly pagan
context by emphasizing that he had grown up in the entourages of the
Eastern emperors, Diocletian and Galerius. A comparison with Moses helped.
The young Moses had been raised among "tyrants," until God finally sum-
moned hirn to become "leader of the entire people." In the same manner,
according to Eusebius, the young Constantine had been raised among "the
tyrants of our time," until his own rectitude led hirn toward "a life of piety
and grace in God" (I.I2, p. 2I). In 305 Constantine left Galerius' court and
joined his father in northern Gaul. Even though he then campaigned with
his father in Britain for over a year, and even though he was then an
emperor for another six years before his batde at Rome, Eusebius construct-
ed Constantine's background in such a way that he seemed to approach this
batde direcdy from his upbringing at these pagan courts. In the Lift Euse-
bius had Constantius die soon after his son's arrival, and he then had Con-
stantine invade Italy almost immediately. Seven years had vanished from his
narrative. By having Constantine go into this batde almost at once from a
background of service at the courts of persecuting emperors, Eusebius could
imply that he was still not yet a Christian.
Eusebius then presented the events of 312 as a dilemma, as Constantine
pondered "what sort of god he ought to enroll as his supporrer." Eventually
he decided that he should honor "only his father's god" (I.27, p. 29). As he
prayed to this god, he had avision of the cross in the sky. Soon afterwards
he had another vision, this time of "the Christ of God" who suggested that
he construct a military standard modeled on this symbol (I.28-29, pp. 29-
30). The basic elements in Constantine's conversion included a crisis, a
revelation, a sign, adecision, a confirmation, and a positive outcome. Con-
stantine was victorious.
Once Eusebius had transformed Constantine into a pious Christi an, he
had found a pattern for the rest of the emperor's life. He used it, first, to
denigrate Constantine's opponents. If Constantine was now a devout Chris-
tian, then his riyal emperors could not have been sympathetic to Christians.
At Rome Maxentius had in fact already decided to end the persecution of
Christians, and eventually he ordered that they could recover any property
confiscated during earlier persecutions. In his earlier account in the History
Eusebius had hinted at Maxentius' support for Christianity.13 But in the Lift
Eusebius emphasized that Maxentius had been just another tyrant, guilty of
all sorts of despicable behavior. After defeating Maxentius, Constantine
shared imperial rule with Licinius, emperor in the East. Licinius too had
been generally favorable to Christians. In fact, in the History Eusebius had
cited some of the edicts he had issued with Constantine. But in the Lift
Eusebius instead stressed only his measures against Christians and their
bishops. If Constantine was "God's friend," then Licinius could only be
"God's enemy" (I.5I.2, p. 42).
Eusebius also, secondly, insisted that after his conversion Constantine had
been consistent in matching support for Christianity with opposition to
paganism. He claimed that the emperor issued an edict forbidding pagan
sacrifices (2-45. I, pp. 66-67); modern scholars question whether Constan-
tine did so. The discrepancy between Eusebius' claims and Constantine's
actual behavior is also apparent in a document ci ted in the Lift. Although
Eusebius introduced one letter (of 324) as a refutation of paganism, in the
letter Constantine tolerandy extended the blessings of peace to "those in
THE MANY CONVERSIONS OF CONSTANTINE 133
error," and insisted that "the customs of temples" were not to be harmed
(2-47.1,56.1,60.2, pp. 68,70-72). Eusebius was clearly trying to interpret
this letter to suit his own purposes. Even though Constantine had still been
tolerant, in his retrospective judgment Eusebius could not allow the emper-
or to waver in his opposition to paganism.
Eusebius' Lift reflected his later thinking about the significance of Con-
stantine's reign. In the History Constantine had represented the end of per-
secution; in the Lift he was to represent the beginning of the expansion of
Christianity. The events of 312 were the pivot, toward the end of one
account and toward the beginnirtg of another. As a result, the Lift has been
more influential in setting the pattern for modern interpretations of Con-
stantine's reign too. By the time he wrote the Lift Eusebius seems to have
read A. D. Nock's Conversion, which defines conversion as a "deli berate
turning ... which implies a consciousness that a great change is involved."14
In the Lift Eusebius distinguished Constantine's early life, which by impli-
cation was misguided, from his subsequent life of piety. The transition was
a moment of decision, a sudden insight, an unexpected revelation, that led
to a spontaneous choice. The consequences of this decision were steadfast
resolution and redemption. A new man, and a new empire, had emerged
from the revelation.
During the past twenty years the most influential book ab out Constan-
tine has been T. D. Barnes' Constantine and Eusebius. Barnes suggested that
although Constantine may have been a Christian before 312, the batde
against Maxentius marked "the moment of psychological conviction." There-
after Constantine never wavered. "After 28 October 312 the emperor con-
sistendy thought of himself as God's servant, entrusted with a divine mission
to convert the Roman Empire to Christianity." Barnes also found an unwa-
vering consistency in his subsequent decisions. "Constantine's religious pol-
icy was coherent and comprehensive."15 Two recent books offer somewhat
similar interpretations, despite their other disagreements. T. G. Elliott, in
The Christianity 0/ Constantine the Great, argues that Constantine had accept-
ed Christianity already while he was at Diocletian's court, and that Eusebius
himself had simply "invented the conversion" in 312. But Elliott still finds
a straight line running through Constantine's career. He had accepted his
"Christianizing mission" early in life, and he remained consistent. "He was
throughout his imperial career a man with a mission."16 H. A. Drake, in
Constantine and the Bishops, concedes a transformation in Constantine's pol-
icies after 3 12, but he prefers to interpret it in terms of "the context of
contemporary power politics and political thought." He nevertheless finds a
"surprising consistency" in Constantine's subsequent actions: "he was acting
for a church that would be inclusive and flexible."17 Eusebius (and Nock!)
would have appreciated all these interpretations. Even when they disagree
with Eusebius' version of the events in 3 12, they still accept the idea of a
singular conversion in Constantine's career, and they still find a single
consistent trajectory to his life.
Initial uncertainty, insight, decision, redemption, subsequent certainty:
this sequence of conversion was powerfully attractive in part because it had
an almost liturgical quality. Not only did Constantine's life fall into place
in Eusebius' historical interpretation, but it could become an effective par-
adigm for others contemplating the same decision, or hoping for the same
redemption. This sequence was also seductive because it was an interpretive
fiction. Eusebius imposed a coherence in his Lift in order to compensate for
the messiness and ambiguity in the emperor's career. The most daunting
obstacle to seeing Constantine's life in terms of one sudden transition and
a subsequent consistency is, in fact, his own life.
CONSTANTINE' S LIFE
Constantine was a visionary. Throughout his life, according to Eusebius,

"God often honored hirn with avision" (1.47.3, p. 40). In fact, Constantine
even prepared for batde by waiting for avision: as soon as he felt hirns elf
"moved by divine inspiration," he attacked (2.12.2, p. 53). In a speech he
delivered to the emperor in 335 Eusebius noted that Constantine hirnself,
"if there were time," could recount thousands of visions of the Savior. These
visions had helped Constantine decide about battles, affairs of state, the
army, and legislation. 18 With this flattery Eusebius acknowledged that when
Constantine told stories of his life, he used the language of visions.
Constantine apparendy did talk about some of these visions. In the ear-
lier years of his reign there had been at least three moments of crisis and
uncertainty when he faced clear threats to his rule: in 3 10 when he defeated
arevolt by Maximian; in 3 12 when he fought against Maxentius; and in
324 when he fought against Licinius. In each case Constantine hirnself
contributed to the subsequent shaping of the stories and narratives, and
hence to the shaping of the interpretations. Since, not so surprisingly, each
of these three moments of crisis had included avision of a deity, each had
the potential to become a moment of religious conversion.
In 310 Constantine had a falling-out with Maximian. In the first years of
his reign Constantine was rather desperately looking for recognition from
other emperors. Maximian was a former imperial colleague of Diocletian
who had returned from retirement to support Constantine. A marriage had
sealed the alliance, and Maximian was now Constantine's father-in-Iaw. But
Maximian eventually tried to seduce away some of Constantine's troops.

On ce defeated, he killed hirnself.
This revolt had exposed a weakness in Constantine's position. A few years
later a panegyrist in Gaul provided new justifications for Constantine's rule.
This orator noted that Constantine was descended both from Claudius
Gothicus, an earlier emperor of the later third century, and from Constan-
tius, now hailed by Jupiter hirnself as "a god in heaven." The orator also
mentioned Constantine's re cent visit to a temple of Apollo in Gaul. There
the emperor had had a vision in which he essentially identified hirns elf with
Apollo. "Constantine, you saw your Apollo, accompanied by Victory, offer-
ing you wreaths of laurel. You recognized yourself in the appearance of hirn
to whom the poets' divine verses have prophesied that rule over the entire
world is owed. "19 With an enhanced pedigree and this vision of divine
support, Constantine had found new ideologies of legitimation.
Constantine retained this connection with Apollo for years. A gold me-
dallion minted in early 3 I 3 depicted the emperor in profile with Apollo,
who was wearing a solar crown, and the sun god Sol remained on Constan-
tine's coins for over a decade. Sol also appeared in a medallion on Constan-
tine's triumphal arch at Rome, neady correlated with a frieze depicting the
emperor's arrival at Rome in 312.20 Nor did the emperor terminate his
support for pagan priests and practices after he began to patronize Chris-
tianity. In 320 he allowed the consultation of soothsayers when buildings
were struck by lightning, and after 324 he extended his support to a pagan
priest. 21 In the mid-330s he was still permitting the construction of a new
temple in Italy.22 Constantine's vision of Apollo should qualify as a conver-
sion experience.
The second moment of crisis was, of course, in 3 12. In addition to all his
other concerns, Constantine was now facing in Maxentius his own brother-
in-law. As Constantine prepared for batde, something happened to bolster
his confidence. Different accounts were soon in circulation. In a panegyric
delivered in the next year at Trier an orator was rather vague in attributing
the motivation for Constantine's recent "liberation of Rome" to a "god," the
"divine mind," and a "divine power."23 At about the same time Eusebius
was concluding the first edition of his History with an explicitly Christian
account of Constantine's victory at Rome. He claimed that Constantine had
first prayed to "God in heaven and His Logos, the Savior of all , Jesus
Christ," and that he had then been assisted by "the power of God."24 At
about the same time the Christian rhetorician Lactantius offered another
Christian interpretation, and was the first to mention a dream. In his ver-
sion Constantine had been advised in a dream to mark his soldiers' shields
with "the heavenly sign of God." "Armed with this symbol" his troops had
been victorious: "the hand of God influenced the batde."25 In 321 a rheto-
rician at Rome provided a pagan interpretation of the vision. In his version
"armies appeared that claimed they had been divinely sent."26
The news that Constantine had enjoyed divine support in his victory over
Maxentius obviously traveled quickly throughout the empire. Within a few \
years a panegyrist in Gaul, a Greek bishop in Palestine, a Latin rhetorician
at Nicomedia in Bithynia, and a rhetorician at Rome all had vers ions of his
victory. Both pagans and Christians were claiming some credit for the em-
peror's success, and from the beginning the religious meaning of Constan-
tine's victory in 312 was contestable, and clearly contested. Even when the
emperor himself commented on his victory, people might suggest an alter-
native perspective. Constantine's only (surviving) comment at the time was
again in his iconography. Apparendy he requested that a giant statue of
himself at Rome should hold a cross in its right hand, and that the dedica-
tory inscription should commemorate his devotion to the Savior: "I have
liberated your city by this sign of salvation."27 In contrast, the dedicatory
inscription on the huge triumphal arch completed at Rome in 3 I 5 was
much more bland and noncommittal. It attributed Constantine's success
merely to "the impulse of a divinity."28
The third moment of crisis was in 324, when Constantine defeated Licin-
ius, a riyal emperor in the East. This victory included some of the same
characteristics that had distinguished Constantine's victory in 312. Before
setting out, the emperor prayed to God and waited for a "revelation" (2.12.2,
p. 53). Not only did Constantine receive avision, but so did Licinius'
soldiers, who saw Constantine's soldiers marching in their midst, as if al-
ready victorious (2.6.1, pp. 50-51). Constantine's troops advanced with the
"trophy of salvation," a military standard in the shape of a cross, leading the
way (2.6.2, p. 5 I). An uncertain prognosis, prayers, visions, Christian sym-
bols, and a successful outcome: all the elements were in place for this
moment to be considered another transformative religious experience.
Eusebius of course decided that 312 would be the turning point. He
most likely did not even know about the vision of 310, and he simply
declined to mention any examples of Constantine's subsequent patronage of
pagan cults. As a corollary, some modern scholars apparently wish they did
not know about this vision of Apollo either. Barnes dismisses it as "the
fiction"; Elliott, who claims that Constantine had been a devout Christian
at least since 303, suggests that the ac count reflects only the paganism of
the panegyrist. 29 Eusebius also preferred not to consider the victory of 324
as another conversion experience. If Constantine had had one such experi-
ence in 312, he could not have had another twelve years later. Neither a
vision of a pagan deity nor another commitment to Christianity would be
allowed to upset the smooth consistency of Eusebius' interpretation of the

emperor.
In contrast, Constantine hirnself apparendy liked to tell stories ab out his
many visions and conversion experiences. Consideration of only these three
episodes suggests that Constantine may have had many conversion mo-
ments, and that his religious beliefs throughout his reign were not as con-
sistent as Eusebius presented them. Despite his evident patronage of
Christianity, his life included changes of mind, uncertainties, contradic-
tions, and ambiguities. In other words, it was anormal life.
CONSTANTINE'S STORY
The events of 312 deserve additional scrutiny in their own right. In the Lift
Eusebius located the story of those events in his own peculiar perspective of
the emperor's reign. In his interpretation, those events had marked a singu-
lar religious experience, a singular moment of conversion. But his account
in the Lift was over twenty-five years removed from the events, and there
was at least one intermediate account. Since Eusebius noted that he had
heard the story direcdy from Constantine, he could not have heard it before
meeting the emperor for the first time at the Council of Nicaea. The inter-
pretive context that he supplied in the Lift was hence only his retrospective
gloss on the emperor's own retrospective interpretation. Eusebius contextu-
alized Constantine's story to fit the demands of his interpretive perspective.
But in his story Constantine had al ready contextualized the original expe-
rience to fit the demands of his situation after 325. Eusebius' "biographical"
account was an interpretation of Constantine's "autobiographical" story, which
was already an interpretation of the original moment.
There is no need to accept Eusebius' context of a religious conversion as
the exclusively correct interpretation, and it is possible to imagine different
contexts for Constantine's story that are as sensible as, if not more sensible
than Eusebius' reading. Constantine might weH have raId the story to make
a different point, especially when he recounted it over a decade after the
batde. In distinction from the context that Eusebius provided for the story,
we need to imagine Constantine's possible motives when he raId it. Obvious
alternative readings would highlight three of the important participants in
the story: the army, the bishops, and ] esus Christ.
"Since the victorious emperor raId this story ra me a long time later
when I was worthy of his acquaintance and conversation, who would hesi-
tate to believe the account?" (1.28.1, p. 30). Even though Constantine
recounted this story at least a decade later, he apparendy made a point of
insisting that the vision of the cross in the sky had been a shared one: "His
entire army wirnessed this miracle" (1.28.2, p. 30). Since Eusebius himself
was prepared to minimize the significance of military support (1.27.1, p.
28), this insistence on the participation of the army presumably reflected
Constantine's own concern. And with good reason. The civil wars of the
third and early fourth centuries had demonstrated the necessity of military
support for anyone who wished to remain as emperor. But military support
was fickle, and emperors were looking for alternative justifications for their
rule. One alternative was an ideology that located the source of imperial
power in its association with divine power. Diocletian and his fellow emper-
ors had associated their imperial rule with Jupiter and Hercules, and Con-
stantine himself, precisely when he had faced a potential mutiny among his
troops, had al ready linked himself with Apollo. In 3 12 Constantine's prima-
ry concern had been, again, the loyalty of his troops.
Constantine's story made this connection clear. According to his telling,
his army too had seen the cross in the sky. Although his subsequent vision
of Jesus Christ had apparendy been a private one, it too had significance for
his troops, since Jesus Christ had suggested turning this symbol of the cross
into a military standard. Significandy, the standard included, in addition to
its religious symbols, a golden icon of the emperor and his sons (1.31.2, p.
31). The religious symbols ensured the loyalty of the troops to the emperor
and his dynasty. Eventually Constantine also taught his soldiers to recite a
prayer, which included both an expression of gratitude to "the only God"
for victories, and a supplication for the safety of Constantine and his sons
(4.20, p. 127). The prayer was the liturgical equivalent of the military
standard, and both were designed to guarantee the faithfulness of the sol-
diers. In this reading Constantine's telling of the visions in 312 had been a
story ab out the loyalty of his troops. It had certainly marked a turning
point, but a military turning point and not necessarily a religious conver-
sion.
A second possible context for this story involves the bishops. Constantine
was an oddity as a Christian emperor. He presided over councils of bishops,
he participated in arguments among bishops, he scolded bishops. But all
the while he was not abishop, not even a cleric, but only a layman-and
an unbaptized layman at that. At some point Constantine seems to have
wanted to resolve the anomaly of himself with a pun by identifying himself
as an episkoposJ abishop or (more gene rally) an overseer. During a dinner
with Eusebius and other bishops he tried to define himself: "You are bish-
ops of those inside the church, but I might be abishop appointed by God
for those outside" (4.24, p. 128). The story about his visions in 312 would
link up nicely wirh this comment, since they were proof that he had received
his consecration as abishop of sorts directly from God. In this context

Constantine's story about the events of 3 12 marked the moment of his
"episcopal" consecration, and his early transformation into the equivalent of
abishop. This story hence justified his subsequent direct meddling in
ecclesiastical affairs.
Eusebius was one bishop who seems to have accepted this view of Con-
stantine. When he explained the emperor's participation at councils, he
used the same terminology to describe hirn as "a common bishop appointed
by God" (1.44.2, p. 38). Just as God had selected Constantine as emperor
(1.24, p. 27), so He had selected hirn as His "servant" (1.5.2, p. 17). This
description again corresponded with Constantine's own conception of him-
self as he started to interact with eastern Greek bishops. As a result of his
unification of the empire in 324 he had inherited (an ongoing controversy
over theological orthodoxy. At first Constantine presented hirns elf simply as
a "servant" of God. "I am proud to be a servant of God," he wrote when he
introduced hirnself to the eastern provincials soon after becoming their
emperor (2.31.2, p. 62). But as he became more involved in the theological
disputes, Constantine also modified his image of hirns elf. Instead of being
merely God's servant, he started associating hirnself with bishops and other
churchmen by referring to hirns elf as their fellow servant. In a letter to the
priest Arius and Bishop Alexander of Alexandria he identified hirns elf with
them as "servants of the great God," and then urged them to accept the
advice of "your fellow servant" (2.69.2, 71.2, pp. 76-77). When he de-
scribed his participation with the bishops in the Council of Nicaea in 325,
he again described hirnself as "your fellow servant."30 A few years after the
council he tried to convince Bishop Alexander to reconcile with Arius: "I
am your. fellow servant who has suffered every anxiety on behalf of our peace
and harmony."31 By associating hirnself with the bishops, even identifying
hirns elf with them, Constantine became a fellow participant in these doctri-
nal disputes. The telling of the story of his visions in 3 I 2 might well have
provided the warranty of his divine consecration as a fellow bishop.
A third possible context for this story involves J esus Christ. This story about
the visions of the cross and of J esus Christ implied that the emperor had a
special relationship with the Savior. After he acquired control of the Eastern
Empire he began increasingly to take this relationship more seriously. A year
after the Council of Nicaea Constantine became interested in honoring some of
the important sites in Jesus' life in Palestine. Eventually he contributed to the
construction of a church at Bethlehem that commemorated J esus' birth and
another on the Mount of Olives that commemorated His ascension into heaven.
His primary interest was the enhancement of Jerusalem, where he funded the
construction of the magnificent Church of the Holy Sepulchre that commemo-
rated J esus' crucifixion, burial, and resurrection. Constantine might weIl have
tald the story ab out his earlier visions in order to justify this patronage. Just as
Eusebius would later draw upon his familiarity with Constantine to compose
the emperor's biography (1.10.2, pp. 19-20), so Constantine could now draw
upon his intimacy with Jesus Christ to commemorate His life's story in the holy
land of Palestine. Constantine was an appropriate author for this new narrative
of Jesus' life, because he had had direct conversations with Hirn. In one of these
visions he had even talked with "the Christ of God" (1.29, p. 30).
Just as Constantine's relationship with the bishops had developed over
the years, so his relationship wirh Jesus Christ also changed. In some re-
spects he now converted hirns elf again, this time from an adherent of J esus
Christ inta a direct analogue. In addition to commemorating His life, Con-
stantine also began increasingly to identify hirnself with Jesus Christ. This
association was especially apparent at the new capital. According to later
traditions, Constantine placed a relic of the True Cross in the giant statue
of himself. 32 Some inhabitants of Constantinople so thoroughly identified
the emperor and J esus Christ that they began offering prayers to the statue
"as if to a god."33 Over the entrance to the palace Constantine erected a
portrait of hirnself and his sons, with a cross over their heads and a serpent
beneath their feet. This portrait commemorated the emperor's victary in
324 over Licinius, his imperial riyal whom he had hirns elf once character-
ized as a serpent. It also presented the emperor as another savior who had
defeated evil with the assistance of the cross. Eusebius hirns elf interpreted
this portrait in terms of a prophecy from Isaiah that was conventionally
applied to the soteriological role of Jesus Christ (2.46 .2, 3.3, pp. 67, 82).
Eventually Constantine constructed a shrine, either a separate mausoleum or
the Church of the Holy Apostles, to serve as his funerary memorial in the
new capital. This shrine contained a niche for his sarcophagus surrounded
by twelve cenotaphs that represented, and were possibly inscribed with the
names of, the twelve apostles (4.58-60, pp. 144-45). Since the emperor had
presented to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem the twelve
columns encircling the apse that commemorated the twelve apostles (3.38,
p. 100), he was certainly aware of the significance of placing his own tomb
in the middle of these twelve symbolic tombs. During his final illness
Constantine acknowledged that he had always hoped to imitate the Savior
by being baptized in the Jordan (4.62.2, p. 146). Now, even after his death
the placement of his sarcophagus would continue to remind people of his
standing as the equivalent of Jesus Christ.
Eusebius' context of a religious conversion is hence not the only interpre-
tation that can be attached to Constantine's story about his visions in 312.
In telling this story Constantine may have also been thinking about the
THE MANY CONVERSIONS OF CONSTANTINE I4I
loyalty of his troops, his relationship with bishops, and his relationship
with ]esus Christ. With so many different interpretive contexts possible for
just this one story, it is difficult to insist upon the necessity of finding an
unswerving trajectory in our interpretations of Constantine. His own ac-
tions and words undermined any image of consistency. He continued to
have visions, he continued to support pagan cults despite his patronage of
Christianity, and he changed in his relationships with bishops. In the later
fourth century the author of abrief historical epitome divided Constantine's
reign into representative periods. "For [the first} ten years [of his reign} he
was truly extraordinary. For the next twelve years he was a bandit. For the
last ten years he was a little boy, because of his unrestrained generosity."34
Even though both the chronology and the characterizations were odd, this
historian had sensed that there had been no consistency to Constantine.
Throughout his reign he had repeatedly reinvented himself.
Since Eusebius was a recipient of imperial letters and an occasional guest at
the imperial dining table, he too could presumably sense these changes, even if
he did not want to acknowledge them for the sake of maintaining consistency
in his historical interpretation. In his Life there could be no deviation after the
events of 3I2, and certainly no more conversions. But Constantine's increasing
identification of himself with ]esus Christ was a change that Eusebius would
have found attractive. Eusebius had his own reasons for liking, and even encour-
aging, this particular transformation of Constantine.
EUSEBIUS' THEOLOGY
When Eusebius first met Constantine in 325, he was a convicted heretie.

In addition to his historical writings Eusebius had long been publishing
theological and apologetic treatises in which he had adopted a subordina-
tionist theology ab out the relationship between God the Father and ]esus
Christ His Son: "The Son does not coexist with the Father, but the Father
existed before the Son"; "The Son of God is a perfect creature of God, but
not as one of the other creatures."35 As a result, Eusebius had defended the
similar doctrines of Arius, a priest at Alexandria. These doctrines were soon
condemned. A council that met at Antioch in early 325 issued a creed that
claimed that the Lord ]esus Christ was the only-begotten Son, begotten
from the Father, "truly begotten and not created." It also condemned those
who argued that the Son was a creature, or that there had been a time when
He had not existed. This council clearly directed its statements against the
teachings of Arius and his supporters. Only three bishops declined to en-
dorse this council's creed. 36 One of them was Eusebius.
This Council of Antioch nevertheless held out the possibility of forgive-

ness at a subsequent council. In ]une 325 Constantine hirnself convened an
ecumenical council at Nicaea that eventually produced a statement of be-
liefs that was meant to repudiate the doctrines of Arius and his supporters.
Almost all of the participants subscribed to this creed. This time Eusebius
joined them, although not without strong misgivings. He had come to this
council with a prepared statement of faith that declared that ]esus Christ,
the only-begotten Son, was nevertheless a creature, "firstborn of all cre-
ation." According to Eusebius' own account, when he recited this creed in
the emperor's presence, Constantine immediately pronounced it "most cor-
rect" and suggested that it could be the basis for the council's general creed.
He furthermore suggested that the council's creed include the word homoou-
sios} "of the same essence," as a characterization of the Son's relationship to
the Father. Sameness of essence should have excluded subordinationist doc-
trines, such as those promoted by Arius and Eusebius. In an embarrassed
letter to his own congregation at Caesarea Eusebius explained why he had
nevertheless endorsed the creed with this word. According to his own ac-
count, he had convinced the other participants to agree that "of the same
essence" meant only that "the Son was from the Father, but did not exist as
apart of the Father's essence." Eusebius had hence provided an Arianizing
interpretation of the Nicene Creed that reflected his own emphasis on the
subordination of the Son to the Father and the clear distinction between
Father and Son. Constantine, he claimed, had agreed with his perspective.
"The emperor, the most beloved of God, presented [my interpretations} in
his oration."37
These controversies over Arianizing and Nicene doctrines lingered through-
out the fourth century. After the Council of N icaea Constantine was more
interested in reconciliation and harmony than in insisting upon a strict
Nicene interpretation. Unrepentant Nicene bishops fell from his favor, while
temporizing Arian bishops, like Eusebius, enjoyed his support. Eventually
the emperor even reinstated Arius. He invited Arius to enjoy "my goodwill"
at the court,38 and he then recommended that yet another council readmit
Arius and some of his supporters who had been exiled after the Council of
Nicaea.
Yet Arius never recanted his doctrines. When he had submitted a state-
ment of his faith for the emperor's consideration, he too, like Eusebius, had
proposed a rather strained interpretation of the Nicene creed, and he had
avoided any reference to the suggestion that the Son was "of the same
essence" as the Father. 39 Eusebius too, especially since Constantine was now
favoring hirn, never gave up on his subordinationist theology. At the end of
his life he composed two more major works of theology. One, Contra
Marcellum, was a thrashing of a theological riyal, Bishop Marcellus of An-

cyra, who had continued to condemn Arius and his supporters, among them
Eusebius, despite Constantine's search for harmony. In a second treatise, De
ecclesiastica theologia, Eusebius complemented his rebuttal of Marcellus with
a more positive reassertion of his own theology that again highlighted the
differences between Father and Son.
Eusebius composed these two works after Constantine's death in 337. At
the same time he was writing his Lift of Constantine. Eusebius hence com-
posed this Lift with theology, and not necessarily history, predominantly on
his mind. His days as ahistorian, the author of an Ecclesiastical History and
a Chronicle, were long over, and he was more intent on defending his own
theology. In addition to its functions as a biography, a panegyric, and a
collection of imperial documents, the Lift could serve as another exposition
of Eusebius' theology. The similarity between emperor and Jesus Christ was
especially useful as a theological idea that supported his doctrines.
In recent orations Eusebius had already associated the two. In 335 he
delivered some orations at Jerusalem during the dedication ceremonies for
the new Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Later in the year he traveled to
Constantinople, where he spoke on "the Savior's memorial" (4.33.1, p. 132)
in the emperor's presence. This oration at the capital was presumably a
repeat of one of his earlier orations about the Church of the Holy Sepulchre,
or apart of an earlier oration, or a composite of ideas from some of them.
An extant oration may weIl be the one that Eusebius now delivered at
Constantinople, or at least most likely represents its main themes. In it
Eusebius explained the successes of "our Savior God" after His death and
resurrection. But he also noted the emperor's own role. Since the emperor
was God's "good servant and minister of goodness," Eusebius suggested that
he should be the one to teach them more about the Savior, especially since
he had had so many visions. 40 This compliment was a recollection of the
emperor's vision of Christ, an acknowledgment that he had had many more
such visions, and a declaration that only Constantine was capable of reveal-
ing examples of God's assistance.
In 336 Eusebius was again at Constantinople, this time to celebrate the
thirtieth jubilee of Constantine's accession as emperor. In honor of this
anniversary he delivered another oration. Given the occasion, it is not sur-
prising that he extolled the emperor and his accomplishments. But Euse-
bius added an intriguing identification. Rather than simply cataloguing the
emperor's virtues and achievements, he compared hirn with the Savior Log-
os, and essentially equated the two. Since God, the great Emperor, was
shrouded in his heavenly palace, He needed intermediaries to reveal Him-
self. arie was the only-begotten Logos, "the governor of the entire universe";
the other was the emperor, "the friend of God," who directed everything on
earth. 41 The Logos commanded the heavenly armies while Constantine led
his troops to victory over the barbarians and defeated the demons of the
pagan cults. As he celebrated the successes of both mediators, Eusebius
described each with the same metaphor: "like aprefeet of the great Emper-
or. "42 In his estimation, J esus Christ the Logos and the Christian emperor
were coordinate rulers, identical because they were both commanders for
God.
In the Life Eusebius continued the identification. The most notable ex-
ample was in his description of the proceedings of the Council of Nicaea.
Since the creed from this council had insisted that the Father and the Son
shared the same essence, at the time Eusebius had struggled to reconcile it
with his own subordinationist doctrines. In his later ac count he compared
Constantine, upon his arrival at the council, to "a heavenly angel ['messen-
ger') of God" (3.10.3, p. 86). The culmination of his depiction of Constan-
tine as God's special representative was his ecstatic description of the banquet
that the emperor hosted for the bishops after the council, and which Euse-
bius of course attended: "one might think that an image of Christ's kingdom
was becoming apparent" (3.15.2, p. 89). The Nicene Creed had associated
God the Father with the Son; Eusebius' description of the council instead
associated Jesus Christ the Son with the Christian emperor. Constantine
was an analogue of J esus Christ, and both were sub ordinate to God the
Father.
Among many modern scholars Eusebius has a reputation as a political
theorist, responsible for introducing Greek political thought into Christian
thinking. But as he composed this Life Eusebius may have considered a
political philosophy of a Christian emperor only one of his objectives, and
perhaps not the most important one. For political philosophy the compar-
isons with Jesus Christ were important for defining a Christian emperor.
But these comparisons would have worked in both directions. From a re-
verse angle the comparisons with an emperor were important for defining
Jesus Christ. By stressing the similarity between the two, Eusebius could
more readily argue that both were subordinate to God. As Constantine
increasingly associated hirnself with Jesus Christ, Eusebius seems to have
become increasingly interested in the emperor as a theological construct, a
doctrinal idea. He could use the idea of a Christian emperor who was
identified with J esus Christ to help hirn promote his doctrine that J esus
Christ was subordinate to God the Father. His vision in the Life of a
Constantine who was loyally subordinate to God would reinforce his doc-
trine that Jesus Christ, too, was always subordinate to God.
THE STATUE
Eusebius had matched his heterodox theology to a heterodox interpretation

of a Christian emperor. In the long run his sort of Arianizing, subordina-
tionist theology was rejected. At the Council of Constantinople in 381 the
bishops again endorsed Nicene doctrines, and the emperor Theodosius add-
ed his heavy-handed support in aseries of imperial edicts. With this reas-
sertion that the Father and the Son shared the same essence, the identification
of the emperor with ]esus Christ became increasingly difficult to sustain.
Having rejected Eusebius' theology, churchmen also had to modify his pe-
culiar view of a Christian emperor.
In the first half of the fifth century two historians continued Eusebius'
History. Socrates explicitly stated that the starting point for his Ecclesiastical
History should be an account of "how the emperor Constantine came to
Christianity." The very first episode he included was the story ab out Con-
stantine's visions in 312. Socrates had clearly lifted this story from Euse-
bius' Lift. Sozomen likewise started his Ecclesiastical History by mentioning
this story about Constantine's visions, and he explicitly ci ted Eusebius as his
source. Using this story as a starting point may have been an effective
rhetorical technique, but it completely transformed the story's significance.
Since the Constantine of Socrates' and Sozomen's histories first appeared as
a middle-aged emperor with no earlier life to present as a contrast, now this
was no longer a story about religious conversion. For Socrates and Sozomen
it was simply a story about a tactical decision to ensure military success.
Even as Socrates and Sozomen retained Eusebius' sense of the importance
of the visions in 3 12, they transformed the meaning of the story by making
it a beginning, rather than a transition point. They further modified Euse-
bius' vision by declining to accept the theological agenda than had led hirn
to identify the emperor and ]esus Christ. Neither of them repeated Euse-
bius' analogies that identified emperor and Christ. Their new reading of
Constantine's life and Eusebius' Lift was especially apparent in their ac-
counts of the emperor's mausoleum.
By the later fourth century the imperial mausoleum was linked with the
Church of the Holy Apostles, and the prominence of the church shifted the
emphasis from the tombs of the emperors to commemoration of the apos-
tles. According to Socrates' interpretation, Constantine and subsequent
emperors had been buried in this mausoleum "so that emperors and clerics
might not fall short of the apostolic remains. "43 Not only did Socrates now
associate emperors with clerics, but he had subordinated both to the pres-
tige of the apostles. Sozomen more explicitly highlighted the rising status
of bishops. "Thereafter Christian emperors who died at Constantinople were

buried [in the mausoleum). So were bishops. The dignity of the priesthood
is equal to that of the emperor, and even takes precedence in churches."44 By
having hirnself interred in the midst of cenotaphs of the twelve apostles
Constantine seems to have wanted to imply that he was the equivalent of
Jesus Christ. Eusebius had rather liked that identification, since it support-
ed his theology. These later historians, in contrast, pointedly demoted the
emperor's standing by suggesting that he had been, at best, the thirteenth
apostle. They would use the Lift as a source, but they could not accept its
perspective on Constantine. To survive as a source, the Lift had to be read
differently. Its fate had to resemble the fate of the statue of Constantine at
Constantinople, an apparently indestructible monument that was neverthe-
less repeatedly reinterpreted, and even sometimes reconstructed.
The bronze statue and its porphyry column should seemingly have en-
dured forever. The people of the capital certainly thought so. The monu-
ment was their bulwark against heresy. When the heretic Arius once strolled
by the column, he was struck with such feelings of guilt that he soon died,
hunched over in a latrine behind the forum. 45 The monument was a symbol
of the city's eminence. Urban magistrates and senators would welcome
emperors there when they returned to the city, and emperors would cele-
brate their victories at the foot of the column. Most of all, the monument
was a symbol of the survival of both the capital and its empire. In one
apocalyptic vision about the end of the world the column and its statue
were all that would remain of the capital. An immense flood would engulf
the city, submerging even the lofty Church of Holy Wisdom. "Only the
column in the forum will remain, because it contains the precious nails
[from the True Cross). Only this will remain and be saved, so that the ships
will come and tie up their ropes to it and weep and wail for this Babylon,
saying, 'Woe to us! Our great city has disappeared into the depths of the
seal "'46 To the end people believed that invaders would never pass this column.
Even when the Ottoman Turks surged through the walls, the inhabitants be-
lieved that an angel would help them make their last stand at the columnY
Even as the monument retained its considerable prestige, the statue, the
column, and their meanings were nevertheless changing constantly. One
legend claimed that Constantine had inserted in the statue's head some of
the nails from the True Cross. Other traditions claimed that he had placed
in the monument the very ax that N oah had used to build the ark, as weIl
as baskets filled with the bread left over from Jesus' feeding of the multi-
tude. Despite this pride and devotion, at the same time the statue and the
column were literally falling apart. In the early fifth century a piece broke
off the base of the column, and the column was then bound in a truss of
iron hoops. In the later fifth century an earthquake knocked the globe out
of the statue's left hand. The globe was replaced, and in the mid-ninth
century another earthquake shook it out again. In the mid-sixth century yet
another earthquake shook the spear out of the statue's right hand. It crashed
to the ground and buried itself five feet deep. This time it was replaced
with a scepter. In the later eleventh century lightning struck the column
and split three of the iron bands.
It was just a matter of time until the entire statue of Constantine fell off
the column. In 1106 a stiff gust toppled the statue, and apparendy also the
huge capital on which it stood . Many people were killed. The emperor
Manuel Comnenus finally repaired the monument in the later twelfth cen-
tury. To stabilize the base he may have added four supporting arches around
the pedestal, and he topped the clumn with some courses of masonry and
a large marble block. But he did not replace the statue of Constantine.
Instead, on top of the block he erected a huge cross. From the beginning
Constantinople had sometimes been known as "Christoupolis."48 Now Con-
stantine's city seemed to have truly become Christ's city, with a large cross
floating over its silhouette. Now everyone could imagine Constantine's vi-
sion of a cross in the sky.
Today the monument is a stub of its former eminence, its steps buried
beneath the current street level, its bottom encased in a bulky sheath of
concrete and rough stonework, the drums of its column charred and corset-
ed in metal hoops, its top empty. Eusebius' Lift is meanwhile enjoying a
revival, especially with the recent appearance of a fine new translation and
commentary.49 That revival offers us the opportunity to rethink Constan-
tine's conversion, and religious conversion in general. We should think
about conversion in a much larger sense, as one aspect of all the many ways
in which people represented themselves in public. We should approach the
stories about visions with greater respect for the many possible interpreta-
tions they offer, and not try so quickly to belitde some of them in favor of
finding a single consistent trajectory. Constantine's life must first be top-
pled off the column of Eusebius' Lift. As with Constantine's statue, there
will then be many ways of welding his life back together.
In the end, the statue did represent a conversion experience. But it was
not the conversion preferred by Eusebius, or by modern accounts. Popular
gossip claimed that the statue had once depicted Apollo in his guise as
Helios the sun god, until it had been reworked into an image of Constan-
tine. The conversion of the statue mimicked the transformation of Constan-
tine, who had early on been an adherent of Apollo. But after the statue had
been converted, people did not refer to it as "Constantine" or "Christian
emperor;" Instead, they called it Anelios. 50 Apparendy it was easier to think
of the emperor in terms of what he had left behind, rather than in terms of
what he had become. This statue was, simply, "Not the Sun."
NOTES
I. For references to the column and statue, see M. Karamouzi, "Das

Forum und die Sule Constantini in Konstantinopel: Gegebenheiten und
Probleme," Balkan Stttdies 27 (r986): 2 I9-36; and C. Mango, "Constanti-
nopolitana," "Constantine's Column," and "Constantine's Porphyry Column
and the Chapel of St. Constantine," all reprinted in his Stttdies on Constan-
tinople (Ashgate, I993), chaps. 2-4.
2. Ammianus Marcellinus, Res gestae 2 I. Io.8, ed. and tr. J. C. Rolfe,
Ammiantts Marcellintts, Loeb Classical Library, 3 vols. (Cambridge, Mass.,
I935-I940), 2:I3 8 .
3. Ammianus Marcellinus, Res gestae I6.8.I2, in Rolfe, Ammiantts Mar-
cellintts, I:238.
4. Zosimus, Historia nova 2.34, ed. and tr. F. Paschoud, Zosime: Histoire
nottvelle, Collection Bude, 3 vols. (Paris, I97I-89), I:I07.
5. P. Fredriksen, "Paul and Augustine: Conversion Narratives, Ortho-
dox Traditions, and the Retrospective Self," Jottrnal 0/ Theological Stttdies, n.s.
37 (I9 86 ): 3-34
6. Eusebius, Vita Constantini 1. I9, ed. F. Winkelmann, Ettsebitts Werke
I. I: ber das Leben des Kaisers Konstantin, Die griechischen christlichen Schrift-
steller der ersten Jahrhunderte, Eusebius LI, 2d ed. (Berlin, I99I), pp. 25-
26. Subseguent references to the Vita Constantini are in the text; all
translations in the text are by the author.
7. Constantine, Oratio ad sanctorttm coetttm 25.2, ed. 1. A. Heikel, Ettsebitts
Werke I: ber das Leben Constantins. Constantins Rede an die heilige Versamm-
lttng. Tricennatsrede an Constantin, Die griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller
der ersten Jahrhunderte 7 (Leipzig, I902), p. I90. A translation of the
Oratio is available by E. C. Richardson, in Ettsebitts: Chttrch History, Lift 0/
Constantine the Great, and Oration in Praise 0/ Constantine, Nicene and Post-
Nicene Fathers of the Christi an Church, 2d ser., I (I890; reprint ed., Grand
Rapids, Mich., I99I), pp. 56I-80.
8. Lactantius, De mortibtts persectttorttm I2.2, ed. and tr. J. 1. Creed,
Lactantitts: De mortibtts persectttomm, Oxford Early Christian Texts (Oxford,
I984), p. 20.
9. R. W Burgess, "The Dates and Editions of Eusebius' Chronici Canones
and Historia Ecclesiastica, " Jottrnal 0/ Theological Stttdies, n.s. 48 (r997): 482-86.
THE MANY CONVERSIONS OF CONSTANTINE I49
IO. Eusebius, Historia ecclesiastica 8.I7, 9.IO.7-II, ed. E. Schwartz, tr. K.

Lake, J. E. 1. Oulton, and J. Lawlor, Ettsebitts The Ecclesiastical History, Loeb
Classical Library (Cambridge, Mass., I926-32), 2:3I6-20, 374-78.
I I. Eusebius, Historia ecclesiastica 9.9.2, in Schwartz et al., Ettsebitts, 2:358.
I2. Eusebius, Historia ecclesiastica 9.II.8, in Schwartz et al., Ettsebitts, 2:386.
I3. Eusebius, Historia ecclesiastica, 8.I4.I, in Schwarz et al., Ettsebitts, 2:302.
I4. A. D. Nock, Conversion: The Old and the New in Religion /rom Alexander
the Great to Attgttstine 0/ Hippo (Oxford, I933), p. 7.
I5. T. D. Barnes, Constantine and Ettsebitts (Cambridge, Mass., I98I), pp.
43, 247
I6. T. G. Elliott, The Christianity 0/ Constantine the Great (Scranton, Pa.,
I99 6 ), pp. 67, 37, 3 28 .
I7. H. A. Drake, Constantine and the Bishops: The Politics o/Intolerance
(Baitimore, 2000), pp. I9I, 270.
I8. Eusebius, De lattdibtts Constantini, in Heikel, Ettsebitts Werke I, p. 259.
The De lattdibtts Constantini consists of two orations, a panegyric delivered at
Constantinople in July 336 (paras. I-IO), and an oration about the Church
of the Holy Sepulchre delivered in 335 (paras. I I - I 8). A translation of both
orations is available in H. A. Drake, In Praise 0/ Constantine: A Historical
Stttdy and New Translation 0/ Ettsebitts' Tricennial Orations (Berkeley, Calif.,
I97 6 ) pp. 83- I2 7
I9. Panegyrici latini 6.2 I A-5, ed. R. A. B. Mynors, XII Panegyrici Latini,
Oxford Classical Texts (Oxford, I964), pp. 20I-2. A translation of the
Latin panegyrics is available in C. E. V. Nixon and B. S. Rodgers, In Praise
0/ Later Roman Emperors: The Panegyrici Latini: Introdttction, Translation, and
Historical Commentary with the Latin Text 0/ R. A. B. Mynors (Berkeley, Calif.,
I994)
20. J. R. Curran, Pagan City and Christian Capital: Rome in the Fottrth
Centttry (Oxford, 2000), p. 89.
2I. Soothsayers: Codex Theodosiantts I6.IO.I, ed. Th. Mommsen, Codex
T heodosiantts I. 2: T heodosiani libri XVI ettm Constittttionibtts Sirmondi[a }nis
(Berlin, I905), p. 897. A translation of the Theodosian Code is available in
C. Pharr et al., The Theodosian Code and Novels and the Sirmondian Constittt-
tions (I952; reprint ed., Westport, Conn., I969), pp. 3-486. Priest: W.
Dittenberger, ed., Orientis graeci inscriptiones selectae: Sttppiementttm sylloges in-
scriptionttm graecarttm, 2 vols. (Leipzig, I903-5), 2:462, no. 72I.
. 22. H. Dessau, ed., Inscriptiones latinae selectae, 3 vols. (I892-I9I6; re-
print ed., Chicago, I979), I:I58-59, no. 705.
23. Panegyrici latini I2.2A-5, 4.I, in Mynors, XII Panegyrici Latini, pp.
27 2 -73.
24. Eusebius, Historia ecclesiastica} 9.9. 2, 5, in Schwartz et al. , EtlSebius}

2:35 8- 60 .
25. Lactantius, De mortibus persecutorum} 44.5-6, 9, in Creed, LactantitlS}
pp. 62-64.
26. Pan. Lat.} 4.I4.I, 5, in Mynors, XII Panegyrici Latini} pp. I54-55.
27. Eusebius, Historia ecclesiastica 9.9. IO-I I, in Schwarz et al. , Eusebius}
2:362-64, repeated in Eusebius, Vita Constantini} I.40 .2, pp. 36-37.
28. ILS (n. 22), I: I 56, no. 694.
29. Barnes, Constantine and Eusebius} p. 36; Elliott, Christianity 0/ Constan-
tine} p. 52.
30. Urkunden 25.3, 26.2, ed. H.-G. Opitz, Athanasius Werke} vol. 3, pt.
I: Urkunden zur Geschichte des arianischen Streites 3 I8-328 (Berlin, I934-35),
pp. 53, 55 Eusebius quoted Urkunde 26 in Vita Constantini 3.I7-20.2, pp.
89-93
3I. Urkunde 32.2-3, in Opitz, Urkunden} p. 66.
32. Socrates, Historia ecclesiastica} I. I7 .8-9, ed. G. C. Hansen, with M.
Sirinian, Sokrates} Kirchengeschichte} Die griechischen christlichen Schriftstell-
er der ersten Jahrhunderte, n.s. I (Berlin, I995), p. 57. A translation of
Socrates' Ecclesiastical History by A. C. Zenos is available in Socrates} Sozo-
menus: Church Histories} A Select Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers
of the Christian Church, 2d ser., 2 (I890; reprint ed., Grand Rapids, Mich.,
I973), pp. I-I7 8 .
33. Philostorgius, Historia ecclesiastica} 2. I7, ed. J. Bidez, rev. F. Winkel-
mann, Philostorgius Kirchengeschichte: Mit dem Leben des Lucian von Antiochien
und den Fragmenten eines arianischen Historiographen} Die griechischen christli-
chen Schriftsteller der ersten Jahrhunderte 2 I, 3d ed. (Berlin, I98I), p. 28.
A translation of Philostorgius' Ecclesiastical History is available in E. Wat-
ford, The Ecclesiastical History 0/ Sozomen} Comprising a History 0/ the Church}
/rom A.D. 324 to A.D. 440. Translated /rom the Greek} with a Memoir 0/ the
Author. Also the Ecclesiastical History 0/ Philostorgius} as Epitomised by Photius}
Patriarch 0/ Constantinople} Bohn's Ecclesiastiocal Library (London, I855),
pp. 429-52 I.
34. Epitome de Caesaribus} 4I. I6, ed. F. Pichlmayr and R. Gruendel, Sexti
Aurelii Victoris Liber de CaesaribttS} Bibliotheca scriptorum graecorum et to-
manorum Teubneriana (Leipzig, I970), p. I67.
35. Urkunden 3 I , 7. 2, in Opitz, Urkunden} pp. 4, I4
36. Urkunde I8, in Opitz, Urkunden} pp. 36-4I.
37. Urkunde 22, in Opitz, Urkunden} pp. 42-47.
38. Urkunde 29, in Opitz, Urkunden} p. 63.
39. Urkunde 30, in Opitz, Urkunden} p. 64
40. Eusebius, De laudibus Constantini} 18.1, in Heikel, Eusebius Werke I}
P259
41. Eusebius, De laudibus Constantini} 1.6, in Heikel, Eusebius Werke I}
pp. 19 8-99.
42. Eusebius, De laudibus Constantini} 3.6. 7.13, in Heikel, Eusebius Werke
I} pp. 202, 215.
43. Socrates, Historia ecclesiastica} 1.4, in Hansen and Sirinian, Sokrates}
Kirchengeschichte} p. 91.
44. Sozomen, Historia ecclesiastica} 2.34.6, ed. J. Bidez, rev. G. C. Hansen,
Sozomenus} Kirchengeschichte} Die griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller der
ersten Jahrhunderte, n.s. 4, 2d ed. (Berlin, 1995), p. 100. A translation of
Sozomen's Ecclesiastical History by C. D. Hartranft is available in Socrates}
Sozomenus: Church Histories (n. 32), pp. 236-427.
45. Socrates, Historia ecclesiastica} 1.38.7-8, in Hansen and Sirinian,
Sokrates} Kirchengeschichte} p. 89.
46. Vita Andreae Sa/i} PG I I I :868.
47. Ducas, Historia 39.18, ed. 1. Bekker, Ducae Michaelis Ducae nepotis
Historia byzantina} Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae (Bonn, 1834),
pp. 289-9. A translation of Ducas' history is available in H. J. Magoulias,
Decline and Fall 0/ Byzantium to the Ottoman Turks} by Doukas: An Annotated
Translation 0/ ((Historia Turco-Byzantina JJ (Detroit, 1975).
48. Sozomen, Historia ecclesiastica} 2.3.7, in Bidez and Hansen, Sozomentts}
Kirchengeschichte} p. 53.
49. A. Cameron and S. G. Hall, Eusebius: Lift 0/ Constantine (Oxford,
1999)
50. Michael Attaleiates, Historia} ed. 1. Bekker, Michaelis Attaliotae Histo-
rial Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae (Bonn, 1853), p. 310; Anna
Comnena, Alexias 12-4, ed. L. Schopen, Annae Comnenae Alexiadis libri Xv,
Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae, 2 vols. (Bonn, 1839-78), 2:149-
51.
6
"DELIVERED FROM THEIR ANCIENT CUSTOMS"
CHRISTIANITY AND THE QUESTION OF CULTURAL CHANGE IN
EARLY BYZANTINE ETHNOGRAPHY
MICHAEL MAAS
Ethnography is actively situated between power/ul systems o/llleaning. It poses its questions at the
boundaries 0/ civilizations, cu!tures, classes, races, and genders. Ethnography decodes and recodes,
telling the grounds 0/ collective order and diversity, inclusion and exclusion.
-James Clifford, in Writing Cu!ture: The Poetics and Politics 0/ Ethnography (1986)
ISSUES AND HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENTS
When Islamic armies first challenged Byzantium in the middle years of the
seventh century, they encountered a Christian state drained by warfare with
Persians, Avars, and Slavs, but nevertheless exhibiting a vigorous and hard-
won confidence. Roman culture had undergone a significant transformation
between the reigns of Justinian (527-65) and Heraclius (610-41), aperiod
in which the roots of the resilient medieval Byzantine state tookhold.
During this period Byzantines found great strength in their identity as a
Christian people, and their perception of domestic populations and foreigners in
imperial affairs acquired a completely religious cast. 1 The venerable genre of
classical ethnography that was devoted to telling the differences between cul-
tures reflects these developments, not simply through the data it records about
Romans and other peoples, but because it, to~, changed in step with the times.
Ethnography can be seen as a kind of barometer of how Christianity became
identified with imperial authority and how the Byzantine elite imagined a
society that was first of all Christian, a society with new "grounds of collective
order and diversity, inclusion and exclusion."2
It is well known that Roman ethnographers, drawing on Greek models
throughout the imperial period, described in great detail the distance between
"DELIVERED FROM THEIR ANCIENT CUSTOMS" 153
uncivilized peoples and their own normative society. We are less aware,
however, of their interest in the equally significant issue of how cultural
change was possible within the uncivilized communities they wrote about,
and consequently how an integrated imperial community might be achieved.
The tropes in wh ich they described uncivilized peoples had not changed
much since the time of Herodotus, but Romans knew quite well that the
uncivilized peoples of the world lived in communities that were anything
but static. They understood that human communities constantly change.
Romans' view of their empire required such an attitude, for the ruling elite
had long believed that lesser cultures might change their way of life under
Roman tutelage. The governing classes of the empire felt sure that by
imposing imperial rule upon uncivilized peoples they would transform bar-
barians into Romans. 3 That is why none of Rome's subjects, regardless of
how savage and barbaric some of their habits might have been, were ever
described as "barbarians." "Barbarians" were people not yet under Roman
rule and so assumed to be hostile and uncivilized. Notions of civilization
and cultural change were intimately linked to Roman rule.
During the period between Justinian and Heraclius, Christianity perme-
ated all aspects of Roman society more deeply than ever before, and so
served as the catalyst for the emergence of medieval Byzantine society. This
paper is concerned with the turn to Christianity within different sorts of
ethnographie writing during this formative period. The Christianization of
ethnography profoundly altered understanding of how and why non-Roman
communities both within and beyond imperial borders might change their
character. As a result of this perception of the empire as a community of
Christians, the terms of inclusion within the empire and the nature of
Rome's "civilizing mission" changed. As a taxonomie exercise, ethnography
helped map out a new vision of the world and its communities through
Byzantine eyes.
Three Varieties 0/ Ethnographie Writing

Three main bodies of ethnographie description coexisted in the late Roman
empire that distinguished Romans from non-Romans in different ways.4 It is
not merely that they had distinct criteria for distinguishing civilized from
noncivilized peoples; the different ethnographie traditions based their interpre-
tations of culture on different value judgments, different kinds of knowledge
about non-Romans, and different principles of accommodation with non-Romans.
These traditions were not necessarily incompatible, but they did not derive
from one another. While they did not live entirely separate lives, it was
not until they converged that a genuinely Byzantine attitude toward
eultural inclusion and differentiation took shape. For this to be eom-

plete, among other things, eultural differenees had to be rethought in
Christian terms.
The first, and most important body of imperial ethnographie thought lay
in Roman law. It pertained to people living within the empire and gave a
total definition of society. When Romans organized their subject peoples for
the purpose of ruling them they imposed objeetive identifieations upon
them. Through such means as levying taxes, mapping and naming provin-
ces, and espeeially through granting eitizenship, Romans gave the inhabit-
ants of the empire reeognized status in eategories of Roman law. 5 Beeause
they were eonsistently applied, eitizenship, status, and other offieial mark-
ers of Roman identity may be understood as a set of ethnographie eatego-
ries. Subordinate peoples within the empire, however, maintained their own
subjeetive identities that had his tori es independent of Roman rule. For
example, Isaurians, Jews, and many other groups of all sorts did not surren-
der their sense of eommunal identity under Roman domination even though
they had a reeognized plaee in the Roman system. 6 Rome had always per-
mitted its subjeet peoples who were not eitizens to maintain their own
eustomary laws in an urban eontext. 7 Cities stood as the embodiment of
independent, "loeal" traditions of law and eustom. 8 And so, when in 212 an
imperial grant of citizenship to virtually all free people in the empire elim-
inated the various gradations of eitizenship that had aeeumulated sinee the
Republie, the subjeetive identities of provincial populations slowly began
to ehange. 9 Loeal legal traditions faded away, and during late antiquity
eities declined as important markers of legal identifieation. By the end of
the sixth eentury, for example, no eities maintained any signifieant indepen-
dent laws of their own. 10 As Christianity eame to predominate in city and
eountryside in this long proeess of eommunal redefinition, legal differenees
between eitizen and subjeet populations lost resonaneeY New regional iden-
tities defined by language and religious beliefs emerged: Greek, Coptie,
Syriae, and Latin beeame the tongues of new eommunities of faith that
adhered to variant interpretations of the nature of Christ and his relation to
God the Father. Roman law, whieh found a plaee within a Christian firma-
ment, beeame an instrument to pursue eonformist religious goals. 12 The
dialogue between imperial and loeal, expressed in law, was at heart an
ethnographie enterprise beeause it objeetified, evaluated, and systematieally
differentiated the domestie eommunities of the realm.
The seeond main corpus of ethnographie thought was the classieal liter-
ary genre of ethnography.13 Classieal ethnography dealt with issues of eul-
tural deseription, inclusion, and differentiation in literary texts, espeeially
history. At its best, literary ethnography could offer nuanced interpretations

of cultural differences, though its descriptions of foreign social structures
lacked the precision found in Roman law that dealt with domestic popula-
tions and their moral and political significance, with Roman identity the
constant referent.
Literary ethnography provided a systematic approach to separating Ro-
man from barbarian by positioning uncivilized peoples primarily in relation
to Roman power and authority. Definitions of civilization and judgments of
non-Romans derived from time-honored patterns of urban life. Barbarians
appeared in ethnographie writin.g in two general guises. Sometimes they
were idealized for purposes of moral contrast with decadent Romans,14 but
in their more familiar role barbarians embodied the opposite of Roman
virtuesY Always inferior, barbarians displayed either indolence and weak-
ness or ferocity and violence, with primitive urges to destroy civilization.
Perhaps unaware of their own past and incapable of rational thought, they
were often described as living in astate of permanent impermanence and
instability, both materially and morally.16
Christianity offered a third range of ethnographie identifications based
on principles of faith that were compatible with developments within the
Roman state, but not dependent on them. Building on Paul's foundation,
clerics cast the relation of the Gentiles to the church in ways that chal-
lenged the opposition of Roman and barbarian, the keystone of legal iden-
tifications of community and a fundamental principle of literary ethnography.
They developed a sophisticated set of ideas ab out the relation of the Gen-
tiles to the church that offered the possibility of building a bridge between
the Roman and the barbarian worlds. Unlike Roman law, Christianity did
not require the state to be the arbiter of civilization and was not limited to
the empire's inhabitants. The introduction of providential history into the
narrative of imperial history fostered a new kind of teleological ethnogra-
phy. Eusebius of Caesarea, for example, described in the early fourth century
a divine plan for humanity that required conversion to Christianity through
Rome's agency. Outsiders were people not yet saved, and when civilization
came to be understood as redemptive, heresiology became a new kind of
ethnography.17 Orthodoxy and heresy arose as important diagnostic catego-
ries in the fifth century; they delineated communities of faith that coexisted
with imperial administration. Because the emperor was God's prime earthly
agent in a providential plan for all humanity, it became his obligation to
enable the redemption of pagans, and missions of conversion at horne and
abroad became imperial objectives. Theories of the emperor's role in God's
providential plan for humanity developed. As we will see, in the sixth
eentury, the emperor briefly entered ethnography as a Christian agent of

eultural transformation. Chureh writers did not pay attention to the seeular
genre of ethnography,18 and while eonversion of individuals and eommuni-
ties beeame an imperial goal and missionary aetivity an imperial eoneern,
ethnographie deseription was not part of Christian imperial propaganda
before Justinian.
In the Christian tradition barbarian eommunities were seen first of all in
terms of preparation for Christianity. By providing the emperor with new
reasons for intervening in the eommunities of his subjects and negotiating
with his neighbors, and by offering new eriteria for deseribing and judging
non-Roman eommunities, Christianity played a signifieant role in shaping
the imperial ideology of eultural transformation in a Byzantine eontext, and
quite naturally ithad a profound effeet on ethnographie writing as well. We
will see that und er the influenee of Christianity, classieal ethnography was
"eonverted"-out of existenee. By the time of the rise of Islam in the early
deeades of the seventh eentury, classieal ethnography had lost its force as an
independent agent of social analysis. In later eenturies, when classieal eth-
nography was eited by Byzantine authors, it was always from a Christian
perspeetive and gene rally with an antiquarian flavor. The ethnography of
medieval Byzantium would display new prineiples of "eolleetive order and
diversity, inclusion and exclusion." Above all else, Byzantium was a eom-
munity of faith.
Some Aspects 0/ Roman Ethnography be/ore Justinian

Ethnography began with the Greeks as a medium of seientifie investigation,
and following the lead of Herodotus it soon beeame an integral part of
historieal eomposition and other literary forms. 19 Thus there was in plaee
from an early period a repertoire of tropes and images that were employed
again and again. Perhaps the most familiar example is the name "Seythian,"
given by Herodotus to steppe nomads and then in later eenturies applied to
Huns, Avars, Chazars, Turks, and eventually Mongois. Greek models would
influenee the genre for more than a millennium as it eame into Roman
hands. But while Roman writers savored arehaizing eonventions, ethnogra-
phy remained a plastie medium in their hands, responding to different
politieal eoneerns and personal talents. The experienee of eonquest and
government of many peoples, including the reports that aeeompanied inter-
national diplomaey, ensured that ethnographie writing would flourish in
the Roman empire. 20 Rome assumed a dominant position in the ethno-
graphie pieture and displaeed other models of eultural eentrality.21 Exeur-
suses, the often lengthy asides found especially in the writing of history,
were the traditional vehicle for ethnographie descriptions. They are now
understood to have been integral parts of the works in which they appeared,
not simply learned and decorative afterthoughts. 22 Ethnography brought
the unknown and unfamiliar to the attention of its readers, trying to "amuse
and edify,"23 but at the same time it supported the larger political or literary
goals of the document in which it appeared.
Romans assumed that every people had a particular way of life marked by
distinguishing characteristics and capable of change. Thus, sexual habits,
military organization, laws andinstitutions, and a host of other topics
occupied the attention of ethnographers. 24 Romans also took for granted
that there were intimate connections between geography, the arrangement
of the stars, and the formation of the character of peoples. 25 For this reason
they had a wide curiosity and looked forward to finding out about the
physical geography, climate, agriculture, natural resources, and exotic flora
and fauna of a region in which a people dwelled. What did foreigners look
like? Lying behind this question were astrological and physiognomie theo-
ries. 26 Romans understood that different peoples had different "belief sys-
tems" that included religion, cultic practice, and philosophical speculation of
different sorts. These were also susceptible to change. Roman ethnographers
generally kept "ways of life" and "religion" separate in their discussion; religious
beliefs were part of a way of life but did not define that way of life.
The range of topics discussed was quite broad. The origins of foreign
peoples were important, especially if they could be linked to classical myth,
because historical lineage gave a strong identity to a people. Little interest
was displayed in the languages of non-Romans though it was recognized
that language was an important marker of identity.27 Authors developed
such themes in different ways, but one element recurred throughout: the
opposition of Roman and barbarian.
As inheritors of Greek literary culture, the Roman governing elite took
on board a well-developed contrast between civilized and barbarian society
which they developed to suit Roman needs. 28 The opposition lay at the
heart of Roman reflections about their imperial power and contained the
possibility of cultural transformation, thereby enabling assimilation. Ro-
mans made the contrast between civilization and barbarism their own in
two somewhat contradictory ways. First, they had adynamie and quite
important belief in the transformative power of Roman law and society, and
they linked this possibility of cultural transformation, that is of a barbarian
becoming a Roman, to the function and ideology of the state: Rome had a
civilizing mission. 29 Yet at the same time that universalist beliefs embraced
the possibility of remaking the world in their image, Romans continued to

rely on the contrast between civilization and barbarian life to justify their
imperialism, and they maintained a deep-seated antagonism to the barbar-
ian as a type. That is to say, Roman self-definition required the barbarian. 30
In the early empire, for example, Stoic psychology developed the opposition
into a potent metaphor that linked internal self-control to mastery of the
world. 31 The contradictory needs to incorporate conquered peoples and to
distinguish oneself from them created a basic tension of great significance
in Roman ethnographie thought. It must be emphasized that resolving the
conflict between inclusion and exclusion was the heart of Roman daily
experience. In real life people did assimilate to Roman culture to different
degrees. The terms of their transformation had to be negotiated and rene-
gotiated on every level of society. How much cultural baggage had to be
abandoned? How much-or how little-did Rome require to become a
Roman? In every city and on every military post, Romans watched other
people becoming Romans. Romanization was always an unfinished busi-
ness, and it occurred at different rates in different locales. Greg Woolf
points out that nothing was more characteristic of life in the Roman empire
than to be "eulturally peripheralized."32 Even after the Constitutio Antonini-
ana granted Roman citizenship to all free people in the empire in 212, the
continuing presence of local laws with their own centrifugal force kept the
question of becoming Roman alive. 33 On a literary plane, determining the
distance between the familiar and the exotic was at the base of value judg-
ments within ethnography. While acknowledging the debt to its classical
Greek origins, we may legitimately speak of a Roman ethnography shaped
by the problematics of conquest and assimilation.
Writing about Cultural Change

The idea that cultures might change had a considerable history in Roman
literature. Rome's imperial mission, as articulated in Vergil's Aeneid, for
example, presumed that conquered peoples might be civilized by living
under the rule of Roman law, even while local customs were also respect-
ed. 34 Roman writers could be cynical ab out the cost to indigenous popula-
tions of becoming Roman. Tacitus, for example, is well known for his
remark that by taking baths and learning Latin conquered Britons thought
they were becoming civilized but instead were becoming slaves. 35 Many
authors put speeches in the mouths of soon-to-be-defeated enemies of Rome
that described the consequences of defeat at Roman hands.
The intellectual movement known as the Second Sophistic, which flour-
ished in the first two centuries of the Pax Romana, offers the most articu-
late and self-conscious reflection on the possibilities of personal transforma-

tion. Writers who drew on the conventional contrast of civilized Greek
versus uncivilized barbarian distinguished between ethnic identity and cul-
tural identity. By accepting Greek paideia intellectuals of Roman, Celtic,
J
Syrian, or any other background might transcend their culture of origin and
enter into an international elite fraternity of prestigious learning and above
all facility with Attic Greek. 36 (It should be noted, however, that the trans-
formation of an elite individual through paideia was not the same as the
transformation of an entire community, nor was it associated with the Ro-
man Empire.) Lucian of Samosata.in Syria, for example, presented himself as
the model of a "barbarian" who had become civilized through the force of
paideia. 37 More than individual transformation was possible. Plutarch pre-
sented Alexander the Great as a man who spread Greek civilization and
imposed Greek culture on passive barbarians, and Lucian, who understood
his own Hellenization as an active engagement with Greek ideas, believed
that his paideia could in turn influence Greeks themselves. 38 These ideas of
the Second Sophistic influenced the Cappadocian Fathers, whose work was
weIl known to Justinian and his circle. 39 And, of course, as the other essays
in this volume show, Christianity offered new paradigms of change through
conversion.
From Jttstinian to Heraclitts

A new attitude toward outsiders had been growing at Constantinople since
the loss of the Western Empire in the fifth century, and during Justinian's
reign there is evidence of a fresh specificity in Byzantine perceptions and
treatment of foreigners in Constantinople's orbit. 40 The old Roman willing-
ness to bring foreigners into the Roman world by force or attraction still
was clearly visible in J ustinian's foreign policy, but now the emperor ap-
pears in the written sources more forthrightly in Christian terms as the
facilitator of that inclusiveness. We will see quite clearly the entry of eth-
nography into Christian imperial rhetoric, and the entry of the figure of the
Christian emperor into ethnographie description. In some legal contexts law
and ethnography become intertwined in a fresh way.
These developments fell in step with the reemphasis under Justinian of
the emperor as the ideological and institutional center of society, the ever
fuller integration of Christianity with programmatic state ideology, and the
rapid development of Constantinople as the symbolic center of the Christian
imperial community. Under Justinian Christianity and Roman culture were
so closely identified that imperial Chalcedonian belief was necessary for
participation in public life. 41 As the relation between city and countryside
ehanged, as some loeal languages gradually beeame obsolete, and as pagan-

ism was eradieated in huge swaths in the eountryside, old poles of identity
fell away, and an imperial Christianity met areal need to artieulate new
onesY In Byzantium people of all ethne were welcome to partieipate, but
only if they were orthodox. Enforeement of belief was harsh. 43 A Byzantine
sense of identity erystallized around the Greek language, the emperor, a
reartieulated view of the Roman tradition, and above all , Christianity. It
was the making of Greek Byzantium in a fashion analogous to the develop-
ment of Coptie and Syriae eultures. The religion set clear terms for a Byz-
antine view of the peoples of the world and politieal interaction with them.
Aeeordingly, under Justinian missionary and diplomatie aetivity reeeived a
joint emphasis. 44 There was less and less room in this Byzantine world for
an ethnography in whieh Christianity had no role. For this reason the reign
of Heraclius will provide a good stopping point for our diseussion. One
eharaeteristie of Heraclius's empire at mid-seventh eentury was the full
integration of Christianity into imperial theory, and at the same time clas-
sieal historiography, the usual vehicle for extended ethnographie deserip-
tions, eeased to be written. 45 Byzantine pereeption of the role of foreigners
in imperial affairs aequired a fundamentally Christian eharaeter. 46
The following examples illustrate important preoeeupations of ethno-
graphie writers between Justinian and Heraclius. The reign of Justinian was
far rieher in different kinds of ethnographie writing than those of his sue-
eessors, and the passages chosen for diseussion here illustrate some of that
variety.
THE CASE OF THE TZANI
In the year 528 the armies of Justinian eonquered the Tzani, a bellicose
people living in the foothills of the Taurus mountain range ne ar Armenia
with whom imperial forees had clashed many times in previous reignsY
This military action was a small part of a grander strategy of reorganizing
and stabilizing the eastern frontier to inerease politieal influenee and to
maintain peaee with Persia. 48 Justinian fortified the region in order to eon-
trol the interior as weIl as the Blaek Sea eoast, and he built several towns in
Tzaniea. 49 The Tzani were foreed to eonvert to Christianity and to eontrib-
ute troops to the Roman army. Their land was ineorporated into the empire
though it was not made into a provinee. After an abortive rebellion by some
groups of Tzani in 558, Justinian imposed punitive payments upon them,
whieh are diseussed in more detail below.
The story of the Tzani is an interesting illustration of J ustinianic ethnog-

raphy because their sad history is discussed in three different sorts of con-
temporary writing: panegyric, history, and law. Thus we can see particularly
weIl how each genre influenced the description of the Tzani and posed
different sorts of questions within a Justinianic framework. Each of the
various sources makes a different sort of value judgment about the Tzani
and locates the reader in relation to them in a different way. Each involves
a different sort of knowledge ab out them. This produces in the end three
rather different ethnographie statements. My purpose is not to sift these
versions and produce a "correct" historical account, but to point out the
ways the sources articulate questions of the Tzani's cultural transformation,
political inclusion within the empire, and the influence of Christianity
upon them.
The Tzani in ProcopiusJs Wars

In his account of Justinian's wars Procopius describes the conquest of the
Tzani in some detail, taking care that his readers understand his historio-
graphical concerns. It is worth reproducing his description at length.
At this point in my narrative it has seemed to me not inappropriate

to pause a moment, in order that the geography of Lazica may be clear
to those who read this history and that they may know what races of
men inhabit that region, so that they may not be compelled to discuss
matters which are obscure to them, like men fighting shadows; I shall
therefore give an account of the distribution of the peoples who live
about the Euxine Sea, as it is called, not that I am ignorant that these
things have been written down by some of the men of earlier times,
but also that I believe that not all of their statements are accurate.
Some of these writers, for example have stated that the territory of the
Trapezuntines adjoined either by the Sani, who at the present day are
called Tzani . . .
And yet neither of these statements is true. For in the first place,
the Tzani live at a very great distance from the coast as neighbors of
the Armenians in the interior, and many mountains stand between
which are thoroughly impassable and altogether precipitous, and there
is an extensive area always devoid of human habitation, cafions from
which it is impossible to climb out, forested heights, and impassable
chasms-all these prevent the Tzani from being on the sea. . . . But
apart from this, a long period of time has elapsed since these accounts
were" written, and has brought about constant changes along with the
march of events, with the result that many of the conditions which
formerly obtained have been replaced by new conditions, because of
the migrations of nations and successive changes of rulers and of names.
These things it has seemed to me very necessary to investigate, not
relating mythological tales about them nor other antiquated mater-
ial ... but stating accurately and in order both the names of each of
those places and the facts that apply to them at the present day.50
Here Procopius adopts the pose of an empirical historian. He endeavors

to present correct information to his readers so that they might understand
better the militaryactions that are his chief concern at this point in his
narrative. More important for the purposes of this paper than any accuracy
that he may have achieved, however, is the very fact that he pursues it while
describing people and geography That is to say an attempt at historical
accuracy controls his presentation. He explains the need for scrutiny and
skepticism by stating rather baldly that "circumstances change" causing
people to move about and names to be altered. He considers ethnographic
knowledge as something that a historian must renew because of the passage
of time.
EIsewhere, Procopius describes the Tzani when introducing the subject of
war on the Persian frontier:
It happened also that a short time before this they had reduced to
subjection the Tzanic nation, who had been settled from of old in
Roman territory, as an autonomous people; and to these things, the
manner in which they were accomplished will be related here and now.
As one go es from the land of Armenia into Persarmenia the Taurus lies
on the right, extending into Iberia and the peoples there .... In this
place from the beginning lived barbarians, the Tzanic nation, subject
to no one, called Sani in early times; they made plundering expedi-
tions among the Romans who lived round about, maintaining a most
difficult existence, and always living upon what they stole; for their
land produced for them nothing good to eat. Wherefore also the Ro-
man emperor sent them each year a fixed amount of gold, with the
condition that they should never plunder the country thereabout. And
the barbarians had sworn to observe this agreement with the oaths
peculiar to their nation, and then, disregarding what they had sworn,
they had been accustomed for a long time to make unexpected attacks
and to injure not only the Armenians, but also the Romans who lived
next to them as far as the sea; then, after completing their inroad in a
short space of time, they would immediately betake themselves again
to their hornes. And whenever they encountered a Roman army they

were always defeated in batde, but they proved to be absolutely be-
yond capture owing to the strength of their fastnesses. In this way
Sittas had defeated them in batde before this war and then by many
manifestations of kindness in word and deed he had been able to win
them over completely. For they changed their manner of life to one of
a more civilized sort ('ti]v 'tE yap iat 'tuv E,1tl 't0 T1I1EPol'tEpov IlE'taUt.,OV'tES)
and enrolled themselves among the Roman troops, and from that time
they have gone forth against the enemy with the rest of the Roman
army. They also abandoned their own religion for a more righteous
faith ('ti]v 'tE 6~uv E,1tl 't0 EucmEO''tEpOV IlE'tESEV'tO), and all of them
became Christians. Such then was the his tory of the Tzani. 51
In the tradition of dassical ethnography Procopius specifies the Tzani's

political condition of self rule, their mode of subsistence (raiding and plun-
dering) and the reasons for it, and their political relation to Rome as recip-
ients of subsidies. Though his sketch is full of diches (elsewhere he describes
the conversion and setdement of the Heruls in nearly the same terms),52 it
is also a good account of life in the mountains of Pontus. The historical
picture that emerges is not one of the Tzani living in primitive and timeless
isolation as will be the case in his panegyric, Buildings, but of their having
been an extremely problematical people for a very long time. He employs
familiar contrasts of Romans and hostile barbarians.
Procopius also places the Tzani in a literary context, and invites his
readers to appreciate them in terms of what other writers of earlier times
have said. The Tzani are presented as people about whom accurate things
might be known, as the objects of knowledge and the subjects of research.
Description of the Tzani in the Wars is determined by the requirements of
the historical narrative for accurate information.
His picture reflects imperial ideology of the day by emphasizing the
importance of the Tzani's conversion to Christianity and consequent adop-
tion of civilized life, and by his recognition of Justinian as the ultimate
agent of their transformation. Christianity has entered the picture to com-
pete with law and urbanism as a marker of civilized life. These themes are
further developed in Buildings.
Panegyric: Procopius's Buildings

Procopius described the defeat of the Tzani in a lengthy passage in Build-
ings, a panegyrical work on the emperor's building policy probably written
late in Justinian's reign. 53 His account combines ethnographie data ab out
the Tzani with formal observations about the activity of the emperor and
the goals of imperial power. The material is presumably derived from the
passage in the Wars just discussed.
And it has seemed to me not inappropriate to record at this point in

my account what he did for the Tzani, for they are neighbors of the
Armenians. From ancient times the Tzani have lived as an indepen-
dent people, without rulers, following a savage-like manner of life,
regarding as gods the trees and birds and sundry creatures besides, and
worshipping them, and spending their whole lives among mountains
reaching to the sky and covered wirh forests, and cultivating no land
whatever, but robbing and living always on their plunder.... For this
reason the Tzani in ancient times used to live in independence, but
during the reign of J ustinian they were defeated in batde . . . and
abandoning the struggle they straightway yielded to hirn, preferring
toilless servitude to dangerous liberty. And they immediately changed
their belief (TItv 86~ov) to piety, all of them becoming Christian, and
they altered their manner of life ('t11v Otat 'tov) to a milder way, giving
up all brigandage and always marching with the Romans whenever
they went against their enemies. And the emperor Justinian, fearing
that the Tzani at some time might alter their way of life ('t11V Otat'tov)
and change their habits ('tu 118r1> back to the wilder sort, devised the
following measures. Tzanica was a very inaccessible country. . .. As a result
of this it was impossible for the Tzani to mingle with their neighbors,
living as they did a life of solitude among themselves in the manner of
wild beasts. Accordingly he cut down all the trees by which the routes
chanced to be obstructed, and transforming the rough places and making
them smooth and passable for horses,54 he brought it ab out that they
mingled with other peoples in the manner of men in general and consent-
ed to have dealings (E7ttlltyvucr8m) with their neighbors. After this he built
a church for them . . . and caused them to conduct services and to partake
of the sacraments and propitiate God with prayers and perform other acts
of worship, so that they should know they were human beings. And he
built forts in all parts of the land, assigned to them very strong garrisons
of Roman soldiers, and gave the Tzani unhampered dealings ('tu<; E1tllll~tO<;)
with other peoples. I shall now tell where ... he built these forts .... And
at a place two days journey from Horonon, where the territory of the Tzani
who are called Ocenitae commences (for the Tzani are divided into many
tribes) there was a sott of stronghold built of men of former times ...
which long before had become a ruin through neglect. This the Emperor
Justinian restored ... 55
Six elements in this deseription des erve eomment. First, the opposition of
barbarian to Roman must be eonsidered as a form of politieal and soeial
self-definition. Proeopius judges the Tzani harshly. The terms in whieh he
deseribes them provide an exeellent statement of Romanitas-in reverse: we
learn what was eonsidered un-Roman and therefore bad. He establishes
distanee from Roman eivilization on different planes: the Tzani have no
rulers and no law; they are beyond the Roman state and its influenee; they
have no arts of agrieulture; they worship animals and trees; they live in
forests like beasts; they gain their livelihood from plunder; they live in the
solitude of high mountains, separated from other peoples. As in his aeeount
in the Wars, Proeopius imposes on the Tzani eertain cliched attributes of
barbarism that have a very long history in the Greeo-Roman ethnographie
tradition and must not be aeeepted as the literal truth, though in some
exaggerated ways they may be appropriate to the eondition of the Tzani.
The next fundamental element in Proeopius's deseription of the Tzani is
the possibility of eultural transformation. Several lines of thought are in
play here. We find a view of progress based on a rise to urbanism in keeping
with the Roman view of the primaey of city life and also with the Buildings'
emphasis on the rehabilitation of urban life. Eneouraging the growth of
eities had long been a prop of the Roman imperial order though not a
deli berate goal of empire. We also see Christianity presented as the final
and proper expression of belief. This attitude was embodied in Justinian's
sponsorship of foreed eonversions and missionary aetivity.56
When Proeopius explains aeeurately that the emperor built forts to in-
clude the Tzani and proteet them, and to separate them from surrounding
enemies of Rome, he ties the deseription of a people and their eulture to an
elaborate theory of empire at the he art 'of Buildings. This theory held that
the Christian emperor would restore the grandeur of Roman antiquity and
thereby ensure divine favor for himself and his people. 57 Buildings empha-
sizes Justinian's energy and produees "the impression that a sudden and
overwhelming ehange was brought about by Justinian's building polieies, as
though the empire was restored and revitalized solely through his efforts
and within a short spaee of time."58
That Proeopius singles out Christianity as the eatalyst for making the
Tzani entirely human is not at all surprising. Buildings, a fundamentally
Christi an text, takes it for granted that Justinian's building poliey was partly
direeted to bringing pagans to the Chureh,59 but it should be emphasized
that Christianity does not determine all of the deseription of the Tzani.
The methods by whieh these barbarie cireumstanees are ehanged to make
the Tzani civilized are partieularly evocative of Roman attitudes. Justinian
takes them from isolation so that they may have relations with surrounding
r66 SEEING AND BELIEVING
peoples. He not only raises them from the level of animals, he welcomes
them into a community of nations dominated by the Roman Empire; in
other words, civilization is presented as a political condition of cultural
interchange and osmosis. 60 Regrettably, Procopius does not have anything
more to say about how this interaction is to work.
The cultural transformation described by Procopius has a more abstract as-
pect as weH that goes beyond habits of life. Ir is the custom of imperial writers
of many historical periods to categorize their subjects as primitive and stuck in
a rut of permanent routine. In Procopius's description, Justinian takes the Tzani
from a timeless, unchanging life of savagery in aland of eternal winter. 61 to the
wodd of history in which change may occur and in which history may be
written. 62 Pulling them into a world susceptible to change brings the Tzani into
not only the range of imperial law and government, but also the arena of
contemporary philosophical speculation about the nature of change. 63
Procopius's remark that Justinian took these steps because he feared "that the
Tzani at some time might alter their way of life and change their habits back
to the wilder sort" contains historical as weH as propagandistic information. The
possibility of cultural regression (rarely expressed in Roman imperial ethnogra-
phy) may be understood as a polite reference to the revolt of some tribes of the
Tzani in 558.64 This notion of backsliding, which belies the conceit that culture
may be changed by Bat, brings us directly to a central tenet of Justinian's view
of legislation: since the wodd was in astate of constant flux the emperar must
constantly enact new laws to earn and keep the favor of GOd. 65
The third element to emphasize in this ethnographie passage is the spe-
cial status of the emperar as the facilitator of social change. Justinian habit-
uaHy presented hirnself as a restorer of the state in official statements, and
Buildings praises the emperar in these time-honored terms. 66 Note particu-
lady how the language of this passage, entirely appropriately for a panegy-
ric, focuses on the person of the emperor as he changes the ways of life of
the Tzani. Ir is Justinian who cuts away obstructions; he transforms the
rough places; he brings it about that the Tzani mix with their neighbors; he
causes the Tzani to worship as Christians. In short, the panegyric gives hirn
here and elsewhere a monumental role as Christian artifex in cultural trans-
formation; in eadier periods the Roman state in a general sense, not the
emperor hirnself, had been understood to be the artisan. 67 There mayaiso be
a connection to the culture heroes of the Second Sophistic, like Alexander
the Great and Herades, who brought Greek culture to a barbarous warld.
A long history of the development of the emperor's central position lies
behind this emergence of the emperor at center stage, and Justinian's reign
was noteworthy for new coalescence of Christian legitimization of imperial
power in law and art and in the formulation of religious doctrine. 68 Here, in
"DELIVERED FROM THEIR ANCIENT CUSTOMS" r67
the description of the Tzani's transformation, we see one more aggrandize-

ment: the intrusion of the emperor into ethnographie description.
Imperial arrogance marks the fourth element: Procopius is utterly blind
to what this forced conversion and cultural transformation actually entailed
for the Tzani themselves, and this of course alters his description of them.
In the panegyric, the Tzani exist simply as players in an old imperial drama
of conquest and assimilation. The changes imposed on the Tzani are of
interest to hirn only because they illustrate assumptions about Rome as a
civilizing power. The fact of imperial violation of Tzanic culture is imma-
terial, hidden behind the glorification of Romanization. Charles Pazdernik
correcdy explains Procopius's mention of the Tzani's replacing a "dangerous
liberty" with a "servitude free from care" as a reference to Justinian's benef-
icent shouldering of the weight of all their troubles. 69 Servitude to the
emperor did not mean slavery but a natural dependence upon a wise and
helpful ruler who would guide them to the true liberation of Christianity.
The fifth point pertains to the authority of the passage. With Procopius,
the description of the Tzani gains its authority because of how it reinforces
beliefs about the emperor's mission of restoration and conversion. In his
History 0/ the Wars, Procopius describes the conquest of the Tzani in more
empirical terms, and claims to have conducted research on them. 70 In the
historical discussion he explains that the Tzani do not live in isolation but
have had a long history of relations with the Romans, marked by broken
agreements, subsidies, and frequent defeat in batde. He would have known
as well from classical authors other episodes in the Tzani's long history. All
of this information is not relevant in the panegyric.
Finally, we note the presence of Christianity, Justinian's "system of belief'
which gives a coherence to the entire passage and afEects nearly every aspect
of Procopius's treatment.
Ir is clear that the chief characteristics oE the Tzani in the panegyric,
namely their isolation and consequent barbarism, and the accompanying
description of their transformation into Roman subjects, are determined by
the imperial ideological concerns on which the panegyric rests. Christianity
animates these concerns. The description of the Tzani reinEorces beliefs
about the emperor's mission of restoration and conversion and celebrates
Justinian's power over them through the medium of the cultural progress
that he enables. The description oE the Tzani is in the service of the pane-
gyric. Just as it made itself felt in art, law, and politics, the totalitarian
presence of the emperor Justinian appears here in ethnographie description.
The rhetoric oE authority, not a science of humanity, animates the ethnog-
raphy. One thing is certain: Justinian's power over the Tzani, as celebrated
in Buildings, leads them to fundamental social change.
r68 SEEING AND BELIEVING
The Tzani in the Law

Justinian's first Novel, issued in 535, mentions the Tzani in the same breath
as the military reconquest of some of the old western provinces of the
Roman empire:
While we were formerly occupied with the cares of the entire govern-
ment and could think of nothing of inferior importance, now that the
Persians are quiet, the Vandals and Moors obedient, the Carthaginians
have recovered their former freedom, and the Tzani have, for the first
time, been subjected to the Roman domination which is something
that God has not permitted to take place up to this time and until our
reign, numerous demands have been presented to us by our subjects,
to each of which we shall pay attention in the most suitable manner ...
In this passage, the significant fact about the Tzani is their subjugation,
now emblematic of Justinian's far-ranging achievements. This is apreface to
a law and not literary ethnography, but it does place them in the context of
a carefully thought-out imperial theory of law, conquest, and restoration
that was in place in the first decade of Justinian's reign, and in which the
description of foreigners had a role.
What this Novel does not make clear, however, is the precise nature of
their subjugation. What was the official status of the Tzani and what place
were they actually given in the imperial system after their defeat? Unlike
the highly Romanized populations of North Africa, Italy, and Spain, which
most likely resumed full citizenship after being reconquered by Justinian's
armies, and unlike the federate Heruls who settled within the empire by
treaty, the Tzani were newly conquered. They had never been Romanized or
been part of a Roman province, and a new province of Tzania was not
created for them. 71
Before their conquest in 528 the Tzani were "autonomous" within the
empire and received subsidies. After that they were affiliated with Rome
through a treaty.72 This state of affairs lasted until 558 when arevolt was
crushed and a tribute was imposed on them, presumably as part of direct
Roman administration. 73
Having thus forcibl y subdued the entire nation, Theodorus sent a

report of what had happened to the emperor and asked what further
measures he wished hirn to take. Whereupon Justinian bade hirn im-
pose upon them a fixed annual tribute to be paid in perpetuity. It was
his purpose that in this way they should become aware of their posi-
"DELIVERED FROM THEIR ANCIENT CUSTOMS" r69
tion as his obedient subjects, paying tribute and totally under his
power. Accordingly their names were all inscribed in a register, and
they were subjected to the payment of a tribute which to this very day
they are still paying. 74
But was this tribute the same as the taxes that all citizens in the empire
paid? It is difficult to identify their status. In none of these circumstances
were the Tzani dealt wirh as normal provincial citizens who did not receive
subsidies or pay tribute. The difference between subjects and citizens had
effectively been eliminated by the Constitutio Antoniniana75 and the word
subiecti (subjects) was in fact the word for citizens most frequently used in
Justinian's laws. 76 If anything the Tzani seem to have been in the condition
of dediticii (though this term is not mentioned), that is, recently conquered
subjects who remained in a "condition of suspended political existence until
arrangements are made for their permanent organization as Roman allies or
provincial subjects."77 J ustinian, however, seems to have abolished at least
some aspects of this status in 530.78 Perhaps J ustinian felt that the law
would contribute to the Romanization of the Tzani. 79
Yet, for all of the peculiarity of their subjection to the empire, Procopius
and Agathias refer to them as citizens. Roman law clearly applied to them. 80
The conclusion must be drawn that the Roman community as imagined in
the law embraced people who were subject to the state in very different
ways. Citizenship in effect had come to mean simply recognizing the au-
thority of the emperor, a beneficent father.
BARBARISM AND LEGAL REFORM IN ARMENIA
How a subject people became assimilated into the empire through the
agency of law is well illustrated by Justinian's law of 536 regarding inher-
itance practices in Armenia. The contrast between Roman civilization and
barbarism is an important issue in the legislation:
The Emperor J ustinian to Acacius, Proconsul of Armenia:

Desiring that the country of Armenia should be governed by good
laws, and in no respect differ from the rest of our empire, We have
conferred upon it a Roman administration; have delivered it from irs
ancient customs 81 and have familiarized it with those of the Romans,
ordering that it shall have no other laws than theirs. We think, how-
ever, that it is necessary, by means of a special enactment, to abolish a
barbarous practice which the Armenians have preserved; for among
them women are excluded not only from succession to the estates of
their ascendants, but also from those of their own brothers and or
blood relatives; they are married without a dowry; and are purchased
by their future husbands. These barbarous customs they have observed
up to the present time, and they are not the only ones who act in this
cruel manner, for there are other races that dishonor nature in the same
way, and injure the female sex just as if it were not created by God,
and took part in the propagation of the human race, and finally, as if
it was utterly vile, contemptible, and not entitled to any honor.
Ch. 1. Therefore we decree by this imperial enactment that the laws
in force in our Empire, which have reference to the right of women to
succeed to estates, shall be observed in Armenia, and that no difference
shall hereafter exist between the sexes in this respect. . . .
Hence the Armenians shall no longer be subject to laws different from
those of the Empire; and if they form part of our subjects, and are under
our government like many other peoples, and enjoy the benefits conferred
by Us, their women shall not be the only ones deprived of our justice; and
they shall all enjoy the benefit of our laws, whether they have come down
to Us from former ages and have been inserted into Our Institutes and
Digest, or whether they are called upon to obey the Imperial Constitu-
tions, Promulgated by Ourself, or by Our predecessors. 82
Because the Armenians were Roman subjects, Justinian could not call
them barbarians, but he does call them barbarous in one regard: they do not
live by Roman inheritance law. Precise knowledge of Armenian customs
allows J ustinian to legislate in this matter. 83 There is at the same time no
doubt that J ustinian will fully civilize them with his legislation, which
makes a clear claim to cultural transformation ("having delivered it from its
ancient customs"). The law's stated purpose is to integrate Armenia com-
pletely into the Roman administrative system so that it will be the same as
all the other provinces, a universalizing act that transcends (or levels) cul-
tural difEerences among imperial subjects. While the novel recognizes dif-
ferences among peoples, it desires to treat them all equally by establishing
certain legal norms. Thus, from a legal point of view the significant things
that the Armenians now have in common wirh the rest oE Justinian's sub-
jects are law and Christianity, that is, a combination oE "way oE life" and
"belief system" (oat'tu and 06~u). This is Justinianic imperialism at its most
high-handed, imposing the imperial fantasy of bringing civilization and
God's order. As receivers oE civilization, the Armenians take a place in an
imperial Christian world view, as framed by the emperor's laws. They are
neither fully Roman nor fuHy barbarian. With its blend oE Christianity and
"DELIVERED FROM THEIR ANCIENT CUSTOMS" I7I
imperial agency, the law provides areal specificity to cultural difference-an

example of a Byzantine ethnography. It points to a hierarchy of civilized and
uncivilized peoples based on criteria that are both Christian and Roman.
AFTER JUSTINIAN
Cultural Interaction and Cultural Relativisnz: Agathias
Agathias of Myrina (C.532-C. 580), whose history began where Procopius's

ended, worked as a lawyer in Constantinople and had associations dose to
the palace, though he should not be considered an official or "court" histo-
rian. He was certainly a Christian. Agathias discussed at considerable length
the Persians, the Franks, and the Alamanni, within the traditional format of
the ethnographie excursus. 84 The historical accuracy of these long descrip-
tions was thoroughly studied some years ago by Averil Cameron,85 but
several points may still be made about Agathias's treatment of cultural
transformation and the related issue of cultural relativism. He also makes a
few remarks about loss of cultural identity.
Agathias wishes to describe cultural change accurately.86 Like earlier writ-
ers, he emphasizes that contact with Rome, even at second hand, may have
a civilizing effect. 87 The best example of this comes in his description of the
Lazi, a fierce people that lived on the eastern shore of the Black Sea:
The Lazi are a great and a proud people and they rule over other very
considerable peoples. They pride themselves on their connection with
the ancient name of the Colchians and have an exaggeratedly, though
perhaps understandably, high opinion of themselves. I certainly know
of no other subject race with such ample resources of manpower at its
command or which is blessed with such a superfluity of wealth, with
such an ideal geographical position, with such an abundance of all the
necessaries of life and with such a high standard of civilization and
refinement . . .
Nor are they barbarians in any other respect, long association with
the Romans having led them to adopt a civilized and law abiding style
of life. So that ... conditions are now very much better than they were
in the past. 88
Agathias understood Roman civilization to work as weH through inter-

mediaries, as seen in his discussion of the influence of the orthodox Chris-
ti an Franks on the pagan Alamanni. 89 He distinguishes three aspects of
Alamannic society: traditional mode of living, government and administra-

tion, and religious observance, with the last of these receiving the greatest
attention:
[The Alamanni) worship certain trees, the waters of rivers, hills and
mountain valleys, in whose honor they sacrifice horses, cattle, and
countless other animals by beheading them, and imagine that they are
performing an act of piety thereby. But contact with the Franks is
having a beneficial effect and is reforming them in this respect too;
al ready it is influencing the more rational among them and it will not
be long, I think, before a saner view wins universal acceptance. 90
The Franks, for political reasons, are in turn described as being very
nearly Roman:
... the Franks are not nomads, as indeed some of the barbarian peoples
are, but their system of government, administration and laws are modeled
more or less on the Roman pattern, apart from which they uphold similar
standards with regard to contracts, marriage and religious observance.
They are in fact all Christians and adhere to the strictest orthodoxy. They
also have magistrates in their cities and priests and celebrate the feasts in
the same wayas we do, and, for a barbarian people, strike me as extremely
well-bred and civilized and as practically the same as ourselves except for
their uncouth style of dress and peculiar language .... I admire them for
their other attributes and especially for the spirit of justice and harmony
which prevails amongst them. 91
The patent inaccuracies of this description are less important than the terms
in which similarity is stated, namely orthodoxy and Roman customs, that
is, terms involving "system of belief' and "way of life." His rosy picture of
the Franks is an almost total projection of Roman views. 92
Similarly, dose contact might have negative consequences. Agathias be-
lieved that the Persians had been corrupted by Zoroastrianism:
But the present day Persians have almost completely abandoned their
old ways ('tu npo'tEpa E81l), an upheaval which has been marked by the
wholesale adoption of alien and degenerate manners, ever since they
have come under the spell of the doctrines of Zoroaster the son of
Horamasdes. . . .
Indeed I know of no other society which has been subjected to such
a bewildering variety of transformations or which through its submis-
"DELIVERED FROM THEIR ANCIENT CUSTOMS" I73
sion to an endless succession of foreign dominations has failed so sig-

nally to achieve any degree of continuity. Small wonder then that it
still bears the stamp of many different forms and conventions. . . .
For the irrationality and foUy of their beliefs can hardly fail, I think,
to strike even those who practise them, unless they happen to be
complete fools, and as such can be easily eradicated. All those who do
not attain to the truth merit pity rather than censure and fully deserve
to be forgiven. lt is not after all of their own accord that they fall into
error, but in their search for moral goodness they form a wrong judg-
ment, and thereafter ding tenaciously to what ever condusions they
have arrived at. 93
According to Agathias, then, religion, and not urbanism or law, shape

behavior and the character of society. He feels that choice of religion 1S
susceptible to reason, which all people have, but reason may mislead:
lt is quite obvious, of course, that each of the various nations of man-

kind considers that any custom whatsoever which is both universally
accepted in their society and deepl y rooted in their past cannot fail to
be perfect and sacrosanct, whereas whatever runs counter to it is deemed
deplorable, contemptible and unworthy of serious consideration. Nev-
ertheless people have always managed to find and enlist the support of
reasoned arguments from all quarters when their own conventions are
involved. Such arguments may indeed be true, but they mayaiso very
weIl be specious fabrications .... so it does not strike me as particu-
lady surprising that the Persians too should try to prove, when ac-
counting for their own customs, that these are superior to anyone
else's.94
In two further passages Agathias remarks on cultural change and loss of

cultural identity. First, in recounting a political quarrel among the Lazi
about whether allegiance to Rome or Persia would be better, he seems to
imply that political subordination would lead directly to great cultural
change. He is aware of the consequences of Roman imperialism:
One of the most distinguished people present was a man called Aeetes.
His anger and indignation at what had happened was greater than
anyone else's for he had always hated the Romans and been sympathet-
ically indined towards Persia. On this occasion he took full advantage
of the greater conviction his arguments seemed to carry and tried to
magnify the affair out of all proportion, daiming that in view of the
situation there was no need for diseussion but that it was a ease for
immediately embracing the eause of Persia. When the others said that
it was not advisable to proeeed to ehange their whole way of life ('tov
AOV iov ~E'tEO"KE'UaO"eat) on the spur of the moment,95 but that they
should first embark on a eareful and lengthy diseussion of the issues
involved, he leapt up angrily, rushed into their midst and began to
harangue them like an orator in a popular assembly.96
Agathias reveals he re through the words of the Lazi how he imagines the
dilemma of politieal affiliation and its terrible eonsequenees. In a more
extreme ease a group of Huns have lost even their names: "The seattered
remnant of these Hunnie tribes has in faet been redueed to servitude in the
lands of other peoples whose names they have assumed; so severe has been
the penalty whieh they have paid for their earlier misdeeds."97
In sum, Agathias quite naturally presumes that being Roman is being
civilized and that being orthodox is being Roman-but "Roman" is no
longer deseribed in the old terms. Agathias's attitudes are more frankly and
openly Christian than Proeopius's. Furthermore, what distinguishes the Franks
from other barbarians is the way in whieh they are like the Romans. 98
Politieal reasons may have determined his deeision to write a positive pie-
ture of the Franks (and a negative one of the Alamanni) but not the terms
in whieh he did so. Agathias has imposed his notion of Romanness on the
Franks. His knowledge about them is clearly limited. 99
The possibility of transformation is fundamental to his view of eulture,
though the examples are from beyond Rome's borders. No Roman dreamed
of including the Franks within the empire. However, their Chalcedonian
orthodoxy made them eivilized and helped them enter a larger world of
Christian belief. Agathias is prepared to include them within a Christian
oikoumene dominated by Constantinople. They have a plaee in a Byzantine
eultural hierarehy.
Decline of Ethnographie Writing after Agathias

In the writers of history who follow Agathias the evidenee of extended
ethnographie diseussion dries up fast. The fragments of lohn of Epiphania
do not eontain ethnographie material. 100 Menander Proteetor was so redueed
by Constantine Porphyrogenitus's editors that no extended exeursus on the
classieal model is left, though he does provide ample and preeise informa-
tion about the Turks, Persians, and Huns in his narration of diplomatie
aetivity.101 Two examples illustrate the keenness of his presentation. If the
aneedotes may be taken as reliable aeeounts of diplomatie exehanges, it
would seem that the diplomats themselves (as weIl as Menander) gave some
thought to issues of cultural definition.
In one incident during negotiations over disputed territory the Persian
ambassador mocks his Roman counterpart on the question of civilization
and barbarism:
When he had listened to this, the Zikh [the ambassador}, who was an
extremely intelligent man and able to speak briefly and to the point in
his native tongue, said the following in reply: "Who, Romans, is so
uncivilized and savage as to say your mission is not appropriate and
just? All men agree in regarding Peace as a blessing. I should have
been taken in by your fine words, were you not Romans and we
Persians. Do not imagine that your convoluted arguments hide from
us what kind of men you are who have come here, seeking your own
advantage ... "102
When Menander discusses negotiations between Justinian and a Hunnic

king, he reveals, through the speech he attributes to the Hun, certain
categories in which he understands ethnic identity to rest:
Justinian added in his messages to Sandilkh that if he destroyed the

Kutrigurs the Emperor would transfer to hirn all the yeady tribute-
monies that were paid by the Roman Empire to Zabergan. Therefore,
Sandilkh, who wished to be on friendly terms with the Romans, re-
plied that utterly to destroy one's fellow tribesmen was unholy and
altogether improper, "For they not only speak our language, dweIl in
tents like us, dress like us and live like us, but they are our kin, even
if they follow other leaders. Nevertheless, we shall deprive the Kutrig-
urs of their horses and take possession of them ourselves, so that with-
out their mounts they will be unable to pillage the Romans." This
Justinian asked hirn to dO. 103
In short, the fragments suggest that Menander's narrative contained sub-
stantial discussion of the factors that unify humanity and the means by
which individuals and groups can change.
The Strategikon 0/ Maurice, a military treatise on tactics and strategy
probably written in the first decades of the seventh century, devotes a long
chapter to the attributes of foreign peoples and their military habits. 104 Its
author, obviously an experienced general, wanted to share with other offi-
cers his experience gained fighting on many fronts. The book considers
Persians, Scythians (by whom he means all steppe nomads, including Turks
and Avars), "the light-haired races" of western Europe, and Slavs and Antae.
He does not mention Arabs. Because this is a manual about warfare, it
shows interest only in defeating foreigners, not changing or assimilating
them.
The author's treatment of foreigners indicates that he has been influenced
by classical ethnography. He takes pains, for example, to associate the char-
acter of each group of people with the terrain they inhabit as weIl as wirh
the sort of government they possess, thus conforming to classical ethnogra-
phy's interest in the effect of climate on human character and institutions. 105
Certain ethnic stereotypes appear as well. Persians, for example, are "wick-
ed, dissembling and servile, but at the same time patriotic and obedient,"
while Avars are "scoundrels and devious."106 Most of his comments on tech-
niques of warfare, however, have the ring of direct observation: "The nations
of the Slavs and the Antae live in the same way and have the same customs.
They are both independent, absolutely refusing to be enslaved or governed,
least of all in their own land. They are populous and hardy, bearing readily
heat, cold, rain, nakedness and scarcity of provisions . . . . owing to their
lack of government and their ill feeling toward one another, they are not
acquainted with an order of batde. "107
Because he was not trying to write a set piece within the historiograph-
ical genre, the author of the Strategikon is particularly valuable as a source
for everyday attitudes. 108 The author did not artificially disguise his Chris-
tianity as did Procopius and other writers in earlier periods. He began his
treatise with a prayer to the Trinity which also asked for the intercession of
Mary and the saints. His world was ringed by enemies (except on the
empire's southern flank) but protected by the Christi an deity.
Theophylact Simocatta, who recorded the wars of the emperor Maurice at
the turn of the seventh century, was the last historian in the classicizing
tradition. He was also the last historian in the seventh century to attempt
extended ethnographic description, but the absence of classicizing elements
is marked, notably in his confused presentation of the Avars and their
origins. 109 His treatment of the Persians is somewhat more trustworthyYo
His approach to barbarians in the rest of the narrative, however, is forth-
righdy Christian, as seen for example, in this passage describing an incident
in 598:
Accordingly, in these days, our Jesus, in whom we trust, whose power

extends over aIl the nations, who received from the Father as his
inheritance the inhabired world and the ends of the earth as his pos-
sessions, by no means aIlowed his kingdom to be unwitnessed by the
Chagan [of the Avars}. For the barbarian hordes were stricken by a
sudden visitation of plague, and their trouble was inexorable and would
not admit any artifiee. Aeeordingly, memorable penalties were exaeted
from the Chagan for his dishonour of the martyr Alexander. . . . And
so in this way the Chagan had ill-fated good fortune in vietory eelebra-
tions: for in the plaee of paeans, songs, hymns, clapping of hands,
harmonious ehoirs, and waves of laughter, he had dirges, te ars , ineon-
solable griefs and intolerable punishment. For he was assailed by an-
gelie hosts, whose blows were manifest but whose array was invisible. l l l
That his overtly religious opinions are similar to those expressed by eecle-
siastieal writers 1l2 and, more partieularly, also similar to those developed by
George of Pisidia in his panegyries to Heraclius, 113 indieates simply the
degree to whieh classicizing deseriptions had been pushed aside. Like George,
who deseribed a divinely protected empire in whieh godless barbarians
punish Romans or are themselves injured as God desires, Theophylaet sees
barbarians not merely as the enemies of Rome but as the enemies of God.
He does not address the possibility of changing the eharaeter of their
soeiety.
CONCLUSIONS
This paper has suggested that the remnants of the Roman ethnographie
tradition between Justinian and Heraclius may to some small degree be a
measure of the transformation of Byzantine soeiety in that period. I have
limited myself to only one sort of evidenee, knowing that it ean be only
part of a larger story of changing attitudes. There is not enough ethno-
graphie material to permit too mueh generalization, but by the eve of the
rise of Islam it seems as though ethnography, one traditional means of
reeording observations and attitudes, had been displaeed by more explieitly
Christian deseriptions. How new attitudes developed in other media re-
mains to be seen.
In the Justinianie period extended ethnographie deseription on the Ro-
man model appeared in panegyrie, law, and historiography, with eaeh kind
of text putting its own appropriate spin on the deseriptions, and we saw in
eaeh the old contrast of Roman and barbarian reeast in a Christian seheme
of empire. In eaeh example from the time of Justinian it was assumed that
the barbarians might beeome receivers of Christian Roman eulture. Justin-
ian appeared as a faeilitator of eultural change as a law-giver, road-builder,
and bringer of Christianity. His actions identified "way of life" and "system
of belief." Christianity shaped his view of eivilization. There were other
I
signs of the possibilities of a life for a Christianized traditional ethnography in
imperial service, but these did not develop. The picture is far less complete in
the post-Justinianic period, but it is clear that questions of cultural difference
I
and transformation continued to be discussed, though to a diminishing degree.
Where Procopius and his successor Agathias were rich and subtle in their use of
ethnographie material, Theophylact was quite impoverished and awkward. By
the time of Heraclius the classicizing pretensions of writers like Procopius and
Agathias had crumbled; classical ethnography was displaced by Christianity as
an independent medium of observation. ll3 Roman ethnography had always re-
flected contemporary attitudes and politics; if in its classical guise it found little
place in a Byzantine state where Christianity and "way of life" were equivalent,
its demise was at least appropriate to its character.
NOTES
I. Geoffrey Greatrex, "Roman Identity in the Sixth Century," in Ethnic-

ity and Cldture in Late Antiquity, ed. Stephen Mitchell and Geoffrey Greatrex
(London, 2000), pp. 267-92, provides insightful introduction and current
bibliography; Mary Whitby, "A New Image for a New Age: George of
Pisidia on the Emperor Heraclius," in The Roman and Byzantine Army in the
East, ed. E. Dabrowa (Cracow, 1994), pp. 197-225.
2. It is conventional to call the Roman empire that continued in the
eastern Mediterranean until 1453 the "Byzantine Empire" and its inhabit-
ants "Byzantines." The inhabitants of that empire called themselves "Ro-
mans," and thought of themselves as "Byzantines" only inasmuch as they
lived in the city of Constantinople, formerly known as Byzantion. In this
paper I consider the period between J ustinian and Heraclius as a time when
"Romans" turned into "Byzantines," and I use the term "Roman" rather
loosely to refer to the empire and its inhabitants through the age of Justin-
ian up to Heraclius. After that I use "Byzantine." Complete consistency is
impossible, but meaning should be clear from context.
3. See the remarks of Patrick Geary, "Barbarians and Ethnicity," in Late
Antiquity: A Guide to the Postclassical World, ed. G. W. Bowersock, Peter
Brown, and Oleg Grabar (Cambridge, Mass., 1999), pp. 107-29. Geary
suggests that "the concept of ethnogenesis was alien to the Roman under-
standing of their neighbors" (p. 106).
4. For a preliminary discussion see M. Maas, "Ethnography," in Bower-
sock et al., Late Antiquity, pp. 435-36. The material will be discussed more
fully in my book, The Conqueror's Gift: Ethnography, Identity, and Imperial
Power at the End of Antiquity (Princeton, N.J., in preparation).
5. The problem has been much studied in other polyethnic empires,

but Rome has received litde attention. Ray Laurence, "Territory," in Culture
and Identity in the Roman Empire, ed. Ray Laurence and Joanne Berry (Lon-
don, 1998), pp. 95-1 :(0, offers a case study from the early Roman Empire
that shows how "the naming of Italy by geographers fixed the populations
of regions with an ethnicity that would continue to be associated with the
individual regions" (p. 108).
6. Hugh Elton, "The Nature of the Sixth Century Isaurians," in Mitchell
and Greatrex, Ethnicity and Culture, pp. 293-308; Alfredo Rabello, "Civil Jewish
Jurisdiction in the Days of Emperor Justinian (527-565): Codex Justinianus
1.9.8," Israel Law Review 33 (1999): 51-66, reprinted in Rabello, TheJews in the
Roman Empire: Legal Problems from Herod to Justinian (Aldershot, 2000).
7. For discussion and the considerable bibliography see Patricia Crone,
Roman, Provincial and Islamic Law: The Origins of the Islamic Patronate (Cam-
bridge, 1987), pp. 1-17, and Hartrnut Galsterer, "Roman Law in the Prov-
inces: Some Problems of Transmission," in L'impero Romano e le strutture
economiche e sociafi delle province, ed. M. H. Crawford, Biblioteca di Athenae-
um 4 (Corno: 1986), pp. 13-2 7.
8. M. Maas, "Mores et Moenia: Ethnography and the Decline of Urban
Constitutional Autonomy in Late Antiquity," in Integration und Herrschaft:
Ethnische Identitiiten und kulturelle Muster im frhen Mittelafter, ed. Walter
Pohl and Max Diesenberger, Forschungen zur Geschichte des Mittelalters 3
(Vienna, 2002), pp. 25-35.
9. Christoph Sasse, Die Constitutio Antoniniana (Wiesbaden, 1958), and
idem, "Literaturbersicht zur Constitutio Antoniniana," Journal of Juristic
Papyrology 14 (1962): 109-49, 15 (1965): 329-66, for basic discussion and
bibliography.
10. Peter Schreiner, "Brger, Brgertum: Byzantinisches Reich," Lexikon
des Mittelafters, vol 2 (Munich, 1983), pp. 1039-40; J. H. W. G. Liebe-
schuetz, "Administration and Politics in the Cities of the Fifth to the Mid-
Seventh Century: 425-640," in The Cambridge Ancient History, vol. 14: Late
Antiquity: Empire and Successors, A.D. 425-600, ed. Averil Cameron et. al.
(Cambridge, 2000), pp. 207-37, for an overview with recent literature.
Liebeschuetz's The Decfine and Fall of the Roman City (Oxford, 2001) pro-
vides a more detailed interpretation.
Ir. For changes in the countryside, see Philippe Pergola with Palmira
Maria Barbini, ed., Alle origini della parrocchia rurale (IV-VIII sec.): Atti della
giornata tematica dei Seminafi di Archeologia Cristiana (Ecole Francaise de Rome-
I9 marzo I988) (Vatican City, 1999); Maas, "Mores et Moenia."
12. Michael Maas with Edward Mathews, Exegesis and Empire in the Early
Byzantine Mediterranean: Junellus Africantls and the Instituta Regularia Divinae
Legis (Tbingen, 2003), explores these developments during the Three Chap-
ters Controversy.
13. Important studies include: Karl Trdinger, "Studien zur Geschichte
der griechisch-rmischen Ethnographie" (Diss., Basel, 1918); Alfred Schroed-
er, "De ethnographiae antiquae locis quibusdam communibus observationes"
(Diss., Halle, 1921); Eduard Norden, Die Germanische Urgeschichte in Tacitus
Germania (Leipzig, 1922; 5th ed., Stuttgart, 1959); Kilian Lechner; "Byzanz
und die Barbaren," Saeculum 6 (1955): 292-306; D. B. Saddington, "Roman
Attitudes to the 'Externae Gentes' of the North," Acta Classica 4 (1961):
90-102; Klaus E. Mller, Geschichte der antiken Ethnographie und ethnologischen
Theoriebildung, 2 vols. (Wiesbaden, 1972-80); 1. Kapitanffy, "Griechische
Geschichtsschreibung und Ethnographie in der Sptantike," Annales Univer-
sitatis Scientiarum Budapestinensis de Rolando E"tviis Nominatae: sectio classica 5-
6 (r977-78): 130-43; Yves Dauge, Le Barbare: Recherches sur la conception
romaine de la barbarie et de la civilisation (Brussels, 1981); Maria Cesa, "Et-
nografia e geografia nella visione storica di Procopio di Cesarea," Studi
Classici e Orientali 31 (1982): 189-215; Richard F. Thomas, Lands and Peo-
pIes in Roman Poetry: The Ethnographical Tradition, Philological Society Sup-
plementary Volume no. 7 (Cambridge 1982), pp. 1-7; Alexander C. Murray,
Germanic Kinship Structure: Studies in Law and Society in Antiquity and the
Early Middle Ages (Toronto, 1983), pp. 39-65; Arthur J. Droge, Homer or
Moses? Early Christian Interpretations of the History of Culture (Tbingen, 1989);
A. D. Lee, Information and Frontiers: Roman Foreign Relations in Late Antiquity
(Cambridge, 1993), pp. 101-5; Patrick Amory, People and Identity in Os-
trogothic Italy, 489-554 (Cambridge, 1997); Walter Pohl, Kingdoms of the
Empire: The Integration of the Barbarians in Late Antiquity (Leiden, 1997);
Graeme Clarke, ed., Identities in the Eastern Mediterranean in Antiquity, Med-
iterranean Archaeology I I (1998); Laurence and Berry, Cultural Identity in the
Roman Empire; Walter Pohl wirh Helmut Reimetz, eds., Strategies of Distinc-
tion: The Construction of Ethnic Communities, 300-800 (Leiden, 1998); Rich-
ard Miles, Constructing Identities in Late Antiquity (London, 1999); Mitchell
and Greatrex, Ethnicity and Culture in Late Antiquity.
14. James B. Rives, Tacitus, Germania: Translated with Introduction and
Commentary (Oxford, 1999), pp. 11-2 I, on the ethnographie tradition, esp.
p. 16 on moralizing; Ernst Meyer, "Das antike Idealbild von den Natur-
vlkern und die Nachrichten des Caesar und Tacitus," Zeitschrift fr deutsches
Altertum und deutsche Literatur 62 (1925): 226-32; Schroeder, "De ethnograph-
iae antiquae locis communibus," pp. 30-35; Mller, Geschichte der antiken
Ethnographie, index, s.v. "Idealisierung," 2:560. Many of the sources are
usefully collected in Arthur O. Lovejoy and George Boas, Primitivism and
Related Ideas in Antiquity (New York, 1965), pp. 315-45.
15. Dauge, Le barbare! p. 424; Lee, Information and Frontiers! p. 101.

16. Saddington, "Roman Attitudes," p. 98; Dauge, Le barbare! pp. 341-
43, 424. Roman writers recognized different degrees of barbarism, and
treatment could be nuanced: Saddington, "Roman Attitudes," pp. 90-102;
for example, the ferocia of the Burgundians is not that of the Franks or the
Alamanni: Dauge, Le barbare! p. 341.
17. See the Panarion of Ephiphanius of Salamis, the first systematic hand-
book of heresy written near the end of the fourth century, which brings
ethnography and heresy together. Ephiphanius, Opera! ed. Karl Holl, Hans
Leitzmann, and Walter Eltester,' 2 vols. (Leipzig, 1915-33), 2d ed., ed.
Jrgen Dummer, 2 vols. (Berlin, 1980-85); The Panarion of Epiphanius of
Salamis! tr. Frank Williams, 2 vols. (Leiden, 1987-94).
18. On attitudes to historiography in general, see Arnaldo Momigliano,
"Paganism and Christianity in the Fourth Century A.D.," in The Conf/ict
Between Paganism and Christianity in the Fourth Century! ed. Arnaldo Mo-
migliano (Oxford, 1963), p. 88.
19. The best short summary in English of the Greco-Roman ethnograph-
ie tradition through Tacitus is to be found in Thomas, Lands and Peoples in
Roman Poetry! pp. 1-7.
20. For example, on diplomatie reports and ethnography, see Michael
Maas, "Fugitives and Ethnography in Priscus of Panium," Byzantine and
Modern Greek Studies 19 (1995): 146-60.
2 I. For discussion and overview of literature, see Simon Swain, Hellenism
and Empire: Language! Classicism! and Power in the Greek World! A.D. 50-250
(Oxford, 1996); Daniel Richter, "Ethnography, Archaism, and 1dentity in
the Early Roman Empire" (Ph.D. diss., University of Chicago, 2000); Si-
mon Goldhill, ed., Being Greek under Rome: Cultural Identity! the Second So-
phistic! and the Development of Empire (Cambridge, 2001).
22. A clear demonstration in Cesa, "Etnografia e geografia nella visione
storica di Procopio di Cesarea."
23. Agathias, History! 3.1.
24. Travel books contained accounts of the laws of different countries: see
Aelius Aristides, The Ruling Power, ed. James H. Oliver, Transactions of the
American Philosophical Society, n.s. 43, pt. 4 (Philadelphia, 1953), p. 102.
Oliver cites J. Schnayder, De periegetarum graecorum reliquiis! Societas Scien-
tarum Lodziensis, sectio 1.8, (Lodz, 1950), as a survey of the literature.
25. J acques J ouanna, ed., H ippocrate! Airs! Eaux! Lieux! vol. 2.2 (Paris,
1996) for introduction and current bibliography to this widely influential text.
Ptolemy, Tetrabiblos! ed. and tr. F. E. Robbins, e.g. 11.2 (trans., pp. 121-27).
26. Elizabeth C. Evans, Physiognomics in the Ancient World! Transactions of
the American Philosophical Society, n.s., vol. 59, pt. 5 (Philadelphia, 1969);
Ernst Honigmann, Die Sieben Klimata und die IIOAEIL EIIILHMOI: Eine Unter-
suchung zur Geschichte der Geographie und Astrologie im Altertum und Mittelalter
(Heidelberg, 1929).
I
1
1
27. P. A. Brunt, "The Romanization of the Local Ruling Classes in the

Roman Empire," in Assimilation et resistance a la cttlture greco-romaine dans le
monde ancien: Travaux du VIe Congres International d'Etudes Classiques (Madrid,
Sept. I974), ed. D. M. Pippidi (Paris, 1976), p. 170; on the importance of
interpreters, see Lee, Information and Frontiers, esp. pp. 66-67; see Maas,
"Fugitives and Ethnography in Priscus of Panium."
28. A very useful discussion is Karl Christ, "Rmer und Barbaren in der
hohen Kaiserzeit," Saecttlum 10 (1959): 273-88; for an anthropological treat-
ment, see John and Jean Comaroff, Ethnography and the Historical Imagination
(Boulder, Colo., 1992), pp. 49-67, esp. pp. 50-52.
29. Vergil, Aeneid 6.851-853. Flavius Cresconius Corippus, In laudem
Iustini Augusti minoris Libri IV, ed. and tr. Averil Cameron (London, 1976),
11. 310-65, written in the first years of Justin II's reign, paraphrase this
passage with a Christian interpretation.
30. " ... it is the marking of relations-of identities in opposition to one
another-that is 'primordial,' not the substance of those identities." Coma-
roff and Comaroff, Ethnography and the Historical Imagination, p. 5 I.
3 I. Dauge, Le barbare, pp. 690-9 I .
32. Woolf, Becoming Roman, p. 241.
33. Joseph Meleze Modrzejewski, "Diritto romano e diritti locali," in Storia
di Roma, vol 3.2: [jEta tardoantica: I luoghi e le culture, ed. Andrea Carandini,
Lellia Cracco Ruggini, and Andrea Giardina (Turin, 1993), pp. 985-19.
34. Vergil, Aeneid 6,11. 851-53; 12,11. 19-91; Pierre Courcelle, Lecteurs
pai'ens et lecteurs chretiens de l'Eneide, vo1. I: Les temoignages litteraires (Paris,
1984) = Institut de France, Memoires de [jAcadimie des Inscriptions et Belles-
Lettres, n.s., vo1. 4, gathers references to the most important Vergilian pas-
sages found in later authors.
35 . Taci tus, Agricola, 21.
36. Swain, Hellenism and Empire; Richter, "Ethnography, Archaism, and
Identity in the Early Roman Empire," p. 18.
37. See ibid., pp. 2 off. , for discussion.
38. Ibid., p. 25; cf. Aelius Aristides: "... the pillars ofHeracles do not limit
this power, nor is it bounded by the hills of Libya or by either Bosphorus or by
the gates of Syria and Cilicia, but over the whole earth, by some divine fortune,
there comes a yearning for your wisdom and YOUf way of life and this one idiom
all have ordained to be the common language of the human race. And so
through you the whole civilized world had come to be united by a common
tongue.... I call this the great dominion of the Athenians." Panathenaicus 26-27.
39. Susanna Elm, Sons of Hellenism and Fathers 0/ the Church (forthcoming)
diseusses in detail the shaping of paideia among the Greek Fathers of the late
fourth century; the precise links to the circle of ] ustinian remain to be traced.
40. See the recent studies of R. C. Blockley, East Roman Foreign Policy:
Formation and Conduct /rom Diocletian to Anastasius (Leeds, 1992); Garth
Fowden, Empire to Commonwealth: Consequences of Monotheism in Late Antiquity
(Princeton, N.J., 1993); Lee, Information and Frontiers (Cambridge, 1993).
41. Except for curiales, who might be lews, Samaritans, or heretics, Novel
45(537); see also Novel 8, iusiurandum (535). I have used the text of the
Novels prepared by R. Schoell and G. Kroll, Corpus Iuris Civilis, vol. 3. ed.
stereotypa, vol. 5 (Berlin, 1928). Translations are based on S. P. Scott, The
Civil Law, vols. 16-17: The New Constitutions ofJustinian (Cincinnati, 1932).
42. Compare the contemporary development of Syriac and Coptic cul-
tures that combined language, writing, and a strong sense of local tradition,
real or imagined, within a Christian matrix. On city and countryside, see
the essays in lohn Rich, ed., The City in Late Antiquity (London, 1992);
Liebeschuetz, The Decline and Fall of the Roman City; on the disappearance of
local languages, Peter Charanis, "Ethnic Changes in the Byzantine Empire
in the Seventh Century," Dumbarton Oaks Papers 13 (1959): 25-26; and on
the disappearance of paganism, Frank R. Trombley, Hellenic Religion and
Christianization c. 37-529, 2 vols. (Leiden, 1993-94).
43. Michael Maas, John Lydus and the Roman Past: Antiquarianism and
Politics in the Reign 0/Justinian (London, 1992), pp. 7-72, for bibliography.
44. Isrun Engelhardt, Mission und Politik in Byzanz: Ein Beitrag zur Struk-
turanalyse byzantinischer Mission zur Zeit Justins undJ ustinians (Munieh, 1974);
Hans-Georg Beck, "Christliche Mission und politische Propaganda im byz-
antinischen Reich," Settimane di studio dei Centro italiano di studi sull'alto
medioevo, 14 (1967): 649-74, reprinted in Ideen und Realitten in Byzanz
(London, 1972); Averil Cameron, Procopius (Berkeley, Calif., 1988), pp. 120-
25; Ihor Sevcenko, "Religious Missions Seen from Byzantium," Harvard
Ukrainian Studies 12-13 (1988-89): 7-27. The loss of the account of Non-
nosus, who undertook missions to Ethiopia and south Arabia, is particularly
regrettable in this regard. See Photius, Bibliotheca, ed. R. Henry, vol. I
(Paris, 1959), cod. 3.; Herbert Hunger, Die hochsprachliche profane Literatur
der Byzantiner, vol. I (Munieh, 1978), p. 303; Lee, Information and Frontiers,
pp. 39, 47, 102-5, 168.
45. Michael Whitby, "Greek Historical Writing after Procopius: Variety
and Vitality," in The Byzantine and Early Islamic Near East, Col. I: Problems
in the Literary Source Material, ed. Averil Cameron and Lawrence 1. Conrad
(Princeton, N.]., 1992), pp. 66-74; John F. Haldon, Byzantium in the Sev-
enth Centitry: The Transformation of a Culture (Cambridge, 1990), pp. 425-35.
46. Mary Whitby, "A New Image for a New Age: George of Pisidia on
the Emperor Heraclius," in Dabrowa, The Roman and Byzantine Army in the
East, pp. 197-225.
I
!
47. David Braund, Georgia in Antiquity: A History 0/ Colchis and Transcau-

casian Iberia, 550 B.c'-A.D. 526 (Oxford, 1994) for the most recent study of
the region; Ernest Stein, Histoire du Bas Empire, vol. 2 (Amsterdam, 1968),
pp. 105, 291, 516. Most recently, the Tzani had invaded the Pontic prov-
inces in 506 during the reign of Anastasius, who paid them an annual
tribute, perhaps continuing earlier practice.
48. A. H. M. Jones, The Later Roman Empire 284-602: A Soda I, Economic
and Administrative Survey (Oxford, 1964), p. 27 I; for a list of ancient sources
that discuss the Tzani: "Makrones," Real-Encyklopa'die der klassischen Alter-
tumswissenschaft 14.1 (1928), col. 815; for background on Byzantine policy
in the Pontic region, see Constantine Zuckerman, "The Early Byzantine
Strongholds in Eastern Pontus," Travaux et Memoires (Centre de recherche d'histoire
et civilisation de Byzance) I I (1991): 527-53, and Michel Kazanski, "Contri-
bution a l'histoire de la defense de la frontiere pontique au Bas Empire,"
ibid., pp. 487-526.
49. Stein, Histoire du Bas Empire, 2:303; Novel 28 (535).
50. Wars, 8.1.7-9, tr. H. B. Dewing and G. Downey (1928; reprint ed.,
Cambridge, Mass., 1992), 5:59-61. All translations of Procopius below are
theirs, with slight alterations.
51. Wars 1.15.18-25, ed. Dewing and Downey, 1:135-37.
52. Wars 6.14.33-34, ed. Dewing and Downey, 3=411-13.
53. Michael Whitby, "Justinian's Bridge over the Sangarius and the Date
of Procopius' de Aedificiis," Journal 0/ Hellenic Studies 105 (1985): 129-48,
esp. pp. 141-48.
54. Perhaps a reference to Isaiah 10:33-34. I thank Hagith Sivan for the
suggestion.
55. Buildings IIr.6.1-14, 19, ed. Dewing and Downey, 7:205-11.
56. See note 44.
57. Cameron, Procopius, p. 112; see also Maas,John Lydus, pp. 14-18,45-
48 .
58. Cameron, Procopius, p. 109.
59. Ibid., pp. 89-90.
60. See Buildings 4.1.6, which discusses the inroads of Slavs into the
Balkans: "And in his determination to resist these barbarians who were
endlessly making war, the emperor Justinian . . . was obliged to throw
innumerable fortresses about the country ... and to set up all other possible
obstacles to an enemy who attacked without warning and who permitted no
dealings with others" (ed. Dewing and Downey, 7:22 I).
61. Buildings 3.6.5.

62. In Gothic War 4.1.9 he explains that a discussion of the Tzani is
necessary because of the many changes that have occurred over the years. An
analogue may be found in Justinian's explanation of the need for new leg-
islation: Michael Maas, "Roman History and Christian Ideology in Justin-
ianic Reform Legislation," Dumbarton Oaks Papers 40 (1986): 29-31.
63. Maas, John Lydus} pp. 97-14.
64. Agathias, Historiarum Libri Quinque} ed. R. Keydell (Berlin, 1967),
V.2.3; The Histories} tr. J. D. Frendo (Berlin, 1975). This would be another
argument for a late date of composition of Buildings} on which see Michael
Whitby, "The Sangarius Bridge and Procopius," Journal 0/ Hellenic Studies
105 (19 8 5): 14 1-47.
65. Maas, "Roman History and Christian Ideology," pp. 30-3 I.
66. Ibid., pp. 28-29
67. Dauge, Le barbare} pp. 682-86 for citations.
68. Maas, John Lydus} pp. 45-48, 83-96; idem, "Roman History and
Christian Ideology," pp. 25-3 I.
69. Charles Pazdernik, "A Dangerous Liberty and a Servitude Free From
Care: Political Eleutheria and Douleia in Procopius of Caesarea and Thucy-
dides of Athens" (Ph.D. diss., Princeton University, 1997), p. 233; idem,
"A Dangerous Liberty and a Servitude Free from Care: The Case of Victori-
nus," Byzantine Studies Conference Abstracts} 1999. Procopius is not echoing
the older Roman sentiment that liberty and empire were incompatible. For
this idea see A. N. Sherwin-White, Racial Prejudice in Ancient Rome (Cam-
bridge, 1967), pp. 23-25. Servitude was commonly understood to be a
natural condition of barbarians: Aristotle, Politics 1.2.
70. Wars 1.15.18-25; VIII. 1.7-13: " ... not that I am ignorant that these
things have been written down by some of the men of earlier times, but also
that I believe that not all of their statements are accurate . . . . But apart
from this, a long period of time has elapsed since these accounts were
written, and has brought ab out constant changes along with the march of
events, with the result that many of the conditions which formerly obtained
have been replaced by new conditions, because of the migrations qf nations
and successive changes of rulers and of names. These things it has seemed
to me very necessary to investigate, not relating mythological tales about
them nor other antiquated material ... but stating accurately and in order
both the names of each of those places and the facts that apply to them at
the present day" (ed. Dewing and Downey, pp. 59-61).
7 I. Fausto Goria, "Romani} cittadinanza ed estensione deUa legislazione
imperiale neUe Costituzioni di Giustiniano," in La nozione di !!Romano'} tra
cittadinanza e universalita} ed. Pierangelo Catalano and Paulo Siniscalo (Napies,
I982), pp. 309-I7. On the resumption of citizenship in reconquered Ro-

manized territories, see ibid., p. 307; on the Heruls, see Procopius, Gothic
War 2.I4.33; Jones, The Later Roman Empire! p. 663.
72. Procopius, Wars 1.I5.I8, 22-23. As part of a sequential account, the
latter passage does not indicate that they received the subsidies after their
defeat by Sittas.
73. Goria, "Romani! cittadinanza," p. 3IO .
74. Agathias, The Histories V2.3, tr. Frendo, p. I36, with some changes.
75. Attilio Mastino, "Antonino Magno, la cittadinanza, e l'Impero uni-
versale," in Catalano and Siniscalo, La nozione di !lRomano/' p. 563. On the
different specialized meanings of romantts and civis romantts! see Goria,
"Romani! cittadinanza," pp. 28I-85. Justinian's laws concerning the
Constittttio Antoniniana: Novel 78.5, Digest I.5.; see also Basilica 46.I.I4
(I3)
76. Wm. S. Thurman, "The Application of Sttbiecti to Roman Citizens in
the Imperial Laws of the Later Roman Empire," Klio 52 (I970): 457; Schrein-
er, "Brger, Brgertum," pp. I039-40, on the survival of the status of civis
Romantts in Byzantium for free inhabitants.
77. A. N. Sherwin-White, "The Roman Citizenship: A Survey of Its
Development into a World Franchise," Attfstieg ttnd Niedergang der rmischen
Welt! ed. H. Temporini, vol. I.2 (Berlin, I972), p. 57; Jones, Later Roman
Empire! pp. 200, 6I4, 620, 665; Jean Gaudemet, "Les Romains et les 'au-
tres,'" in Catalano and Siniscalo, La nozione di !IRomano! " pp. 2I-22.
78. Code 7.5; Stein, Histoire dtt Bas Empire! 2:4I3; Thurman, "The Appli-
cation of Sttbiecti!" p. 456; Goria, "Romani! cittadinanza," p. 285.
79. Goria, "Romani! cittadinanza," p. 3 I 3.
80. Ibid., pp. 30I-2; Schreiner, "Brger, Brgertum," pp. I039-40.
8I. Novel 2I, proern.
82. In Novel I54 (535-86), which forbids incestuous marriages in Mes-
opotamia and Osrhoene, an investigative panel is created to determine the
truth of charges of this crime; c.f. Novel I2 (535) forbidding incestuous
marriages within the empire. See A. D. Lee, "Close-Kin Marriage in Late
Antique Mesopotamia," Greek! Roman and Byzantine Stttdies 29 (I988): 403-
I3; Gillian Clark, Women in Late Antiqttity: Pagan and Christian Lifestyles
(Oxford, I993), pp. I6-I 7, 44-45, on Osrhoene.
83. Agathias, Histories II.22, 1V23-30 (Persians); 1.2-7, 1.I9, 11.5, II.I4
(Franks and Alamanni).
84. Averil Cameron, "How Did the Merovingian Kings Wear Their Hair?"
Revtte BeIge de philologie et d!histoire 48 (I965): I203-I6; eadem, "Agathias
on the Early Merovingians," Annali della Smola Normale Sttperiore di Pisa! 2d
"DELIVERED PROM THEIR ANCIENT CUSTOMS" 187
ser., 37 (1968): 95-14; eadem, "Agathias on the Sassanians," Dumbarton

Oaks Papers 23 (1969): 69-183. On Agathias in general, see her Agathias.
85. Agathias, Histories lI.27.8.
86. A law of Justin II assumes that it is human nature to imitate one's
neighbors: Novel 3, in C. E. Zachariae von Lingenthal, ed.,Jus graeco-romanum,
vol. 3 (Leipzig, 1857), p. 3; reprinted in P. Zepos and 1. Zepos, eds., Ius
graecoromanum (Athens, 193 I), p. 5; discussed by Lee, "Close-Kin Marriage,"
pp. 4 0 4-5.
87. Agathias, Hist. lI1.5.1, tr. Frendo, p. 72.
88. Agathias, Hist. 11. 1.6-7, tr. Frendo, p. 32: "Those among the invad-
ers who were Franks showed restraint and respect towards the churches, as
was to be expected since, as I have already pointed out, they held orthodox
views in matters of religion, and were of more or less the same persuasion
as the Romans. But the Alamanni, whose beliefs were quite different, pil-
laged the churches with complete abandon and robbed them of their pre-
cious ornaments."
89. Agathias, Hist. 1.7.1; tr. Frendo, p. 15.
90. Agathias, Hist. 1.2; tr. Frendo, p. 10.
91. Cameron, "Merovingians," pp. 114-16; eadem, Agathias, p. 50.
92 . Agathias, Hist. lI.24.5, lI.25.3, 1.73; tr. Frendo pp. 58, 59, 15
93. Agathias, Hist. lI.23 8-9; tr. Frendo, p. 57.; Henry Chadwick, "Rel-
ativity of Moral Codes: Rome and Persia in Late Antiquity," in Early Chris-
tian Literature and the C lassical I ntellectual Tradition in honorem Robert M.
Grant, ed. William R. Schoedel and Robert 1. Wilken, Theologie Historique
53 (1979): 135-53, esp. pp. 150-5 I on Agathias.
94. Ir is perhaps worth pointing out that the verb used here, flEWO"KEU-
asO), could refer to the transformation brought through baptism, to the
transformation of the elements in the Eucharist, or to changes in names
such as that of Byzantium to Constantinople.
95. Agathias, Hist. lI1.8.7; tr. Frendo. p. 76.
96. Agathias, Hist. V.25.5; tr. Frendo, p. 162.
97. The continuation of sub-Roman culture under the Franks makes this
a complex historical issue.
98. Cameron, "Merovingians," p. 137
99. Whitby, "Greek Historical Writing," pp. 38-39.
100. Ibid., p. 39, estimates that 90 percent of Menander is lost; R. C.
Blockley, The History 0/ Menander the Guardsman: Introductory Essay, Text,
Translation, and Historiographical Notes (Liverpool, 1985), pp. 6 and 13 on
his classicism and formal digressions; Barry Baldwin, "Menander Protector,"
Dumbarton Oaks Papers 32 (1978): 19-10. Menander was regarded as a
reliable source on the Persians in antiquity, as indicated by a scholiast on
Strabo (Paris, B.N. gr. 1393) cited by B. Baldwin, Ox/ord Dictionary 0/

Byzantium, vol. 2 (Oxford, 1991), p. 1338; on his interest in diplomacy:
Whitby, "Greek Historical Writing," p. 40; Maas, "Fugitives and Ethnog-
raphy in Priscus of Panium," pp. 146-49.
101. Menander Protector, frag. 2; tr. Blockley, pp. 43-45. On these
negotiations see Kazanski, "Contribution a l'histoire de la defense de la
frontiere pontique," pp. 540-44.
102. Ibid.
103. Book 11 of Das Strategikon des Maurikios, ed. G. T. Dennis and E.
Gamillscheg, Corpus fontium historiae byzantinae 17 (Vienna, 1981); G.
Dennis, tr., Maurice's Strategikon: Handbook 0/ Byzantine Military Strategy
(Philadelphia, 1984); the attribution to Maurice is uncertain. On book I I,
see lohn Wiita, "The Ethnika in Byzantine Military Treatises" (Ph.D. diss.,
University of Minnesota, 1977).
104. Honigmann, Die Sieben Klimata und die IIOAEI~ EIII~HMOI; Rives,
Tacitus, Germania, pp. 16-17, for references.
105. Strategikon, XLI, 2, tr. Dennis, p. 116.
106. Ibid., XIA, tr. Dennis, pp. 120-2 I.
107. Dennis, Maurice's Strategikon, p. xv.
108. Historiae, ed. C. de Boor, rev. P. Wirth (Stuttgart, 1972), VII.7.6-
9.12; trans. 1. M. Whitby and Michael Whitby, The History 0/ Theophylact
Simocatta (Oxford, 1986); Michael Whitby, The Emperor Maurice and His
Historian (Oxford, 1988); B. Baldwin, "Simokattes, Theophylaktos," Ox/ord
Dictionary 0/ Byzantium, vol. 3 (Oxford, 1991), pp. 1900-1901; on his
ethnographie writing: Whitby, Emperor Maurice, pp. 314-2 I.
109. Theophylact Simocatta, Hist. IIL9.1-18A.
110. Theophylact Simocatta, Hist. VII.15.1-3; tr. Whitby and Whitby,
p.200.
I I I. E.g. E. W. Brooks, trans., John 0/ Ephesus, Lives 0/ the Eastern Saints,
Patrologia Orientalis, ed. R. Graffin and F. Nau, vol 17 (Paris, 1923), pp.
19 (Life of Zura), 78 (Lives of Abraham and Maro).
I 12. Giorgio di Pisidia, Poemi, vol. I: Panegyrici Epici, ed. A. Pertusi
(Ettal, 1959); see S. S. Alexander, "Heraclius, Byzantine Imperial Ideology,

and the David Plates," Speculum 552, no. 2 (r977): 217-37, esp. p. 221;
Whitby, "A New Image fora New Age."
I 13. Though it did not disappear; see Mller, Geschichte der antiken Eth-
nographie, 2:481-520, for some material; antiquarian excerpting of classical

ethnographers in the de Administrando Imperio of Constantine Porphyrgeni-
tus, itself founded on a developed Byzantine vision of empire, deserves
closer examination.
7
"EMENDING EVIL WAYS AND PRAISING GOD'S
OMNIPOTENCE"
EINHARD AND THE USES OF ROMAN MARTYRS
]ULIA M. H. SMITH
In the closing weeks of 828, a messenger arrived at the imperial court at

Aaehen and sought out Einhard, one of the most senior and trusted eoun-
selors of the emperor Louis the Pious (814-40). At Mulinheim! his estate on
the banks of the River Main, Einhard had built a ehureh to house the relies
of two early Christian martyrs whose remains had reeendy been brought
from Rome, Mareellinus and Peter. The servant brought his master a libel-
lus! a litde parehment book eontaining an aeeount of an exoreism whieh had
just been performed at Mulinheim in the presenee of many witnesses. In
front of the altar where the saints' relies lay, a priest had eondueted the
ritual over a sixteen-year-old German-speaking peasant girl. This was no
ordinary exoreism, however, for the girl had been possessed by Wiggo, an
eloquent Latin-speaking demon, who allowed himself to be interrogated by
the priest. In the booklet, Einhard read an aeeount of the eonversation
between demon and priest: Wiggo declared that he was the former door-
keeper of hell, a courtier of Satan, and that with his retinue he had been
ravaging the Frankish empire, spreading famine, death and disease for sev-
eral years. Wiggo went on to offer an explanation, to the effeet that this was
punishment for the wiekedness of the Frankish people, the iniquity of their
rulers, the hatred whieh divided friends and brothers, and disobedienee to
God's eommands. "Alas!" exclaimed Einhard when he had finished reading,
"to what miseries our age has sunk, in whieh our teaehers are not good men
but evil demons, and those who incite people to viee and persuade them to
sin also warn us about how to eorreet our behavior (de nostra nos correctione
commonent). "1
Correctio-the adjustment of Christians' behavior to bring it into line
with the teaehing of Seripture and the ehureh fathers-was a major preoe-
eupation of Louis the Pious, as of his father Charlemagne (768-814). By
18 9
Einhard's time, the word implied both an ideology and a program in which
ruler and bishops together strove to enhance Christian observance, foster
Christian ethics, and overhaul Christian institutions. Correctio resonated with
authority, whether that of imperial legislation, canon law, or bishops acting
together in council. Along with the virtually synonymous emendatio} it es-
tablished normative practice, just as the emendation of a text brought it
into line with grammatical and orthographical rules and upheld a tradition
rooted in textual authorities. Emendation was "the correction of errors which
are made in writing or actions."2 Correction and emendation thus lead us
direcdy to the heart of the Carolingian push for what we might loosely call
"Christianization," that ongoing effort to redefine behavior and mores which
was the long, slow aftermath of baptism and conversion to Christianity. Ir
was, indeed, the task Charlemagne took upon himself in his widely circu-
lated Admonitio generalis of 789 when, modeling himself upon the way the
biblical King Josiah had urged his subjects to turn to God by "traveling
around his kingdom, correcting and admonishing," the Frankish king set
out to "correct the erroneous, excise the inappropriate, and encourage the
right." In short, his bishops and secular officials should "correct that which
must be corrected."3 Differently put, Charlemagne and his ecclesiastical
advisors found their own way to conduct that "unrelieved batde with the
past" which Augustine and his contemporaries had launched, the batde to
change the habits (whether tradition or habitus) of Christians. 4
The zealous Carolingian drive to implement what we may call "correct
Christianity" has been much studied in recent years. Yet these discussions
usually ignore the role of saints' cults in promulgating this vision of a
Christian society, confining themselves instead to royal and conciliar legis-
lative activity, preaching, prayer, education, and pastoral provision. 5 AI-
though early medieval saints' cults are a burgeoning field of analysis, these
more commonly locate cults within their institutional context than within
any political or pastoral one. By contrast, this paper seeks out the connec-
tions between "emending evil ways" and relic cults. Ir takes the shrine of
Marcellinus and Peter at Mulinheim as the focus of a case study which asks
several interrelated questions. Why was Einhard, a scholar upheld as the
epitome of the Carolingians' renewed interest in classical culture on the
basis of the brilliant erudition of his Vita Karoli} also interested in prophetic
demons, rustic religion, and saints' bones? How was Rome's early Christian
past recovered and reinterpreted in ninth-century Germany? How was a
balance between local religion and newfound imperial norms negotiated?
What part did the lay elite play in the promulgation of correct Christian-
ity? What can Wiggo's tale tell us ab out the politics of emendation in both
court and country?
EMENDING EVIL WAYS
Answering these questions requires awareness of historiographical tangles

and conceptual quagmires. Although historians concur in acknowledging
the importance of the Carolingian age (C.750-900) within the master nar-
ratives of Europe's religious and cultural history, they cannot agree how to
evaluate it. Did it witness "the birth of medieval Christianity" or "the rise
of magic"?6 Should it be characterized as "archaic Christianity" or "the bases
for the subsequent development of the western church"?7 In a culture nota-
ble for both the transmission of rare dassical texts and the belief in the
mirade-working power of the dust of long-dead bodies, should we stress
"the invasion of the miraculous" or a "renaissance before the Renaissance"?8
One reason for such conflicting assessments is that medievalists are liable
to be trapped in powerful historiographical discourses not oftheir own
making. Ir is not simply that riyal efforts of sixteenth- and early seven-
teenth-century confessional historians to appropriate or repudiate Christen-
dom's medieval past continued to reverberate until recently (and, arguably,
still do). There is also that pervasive Enlightenment episteme which rein-
forced an established preference for the dassical: by ranking religious beliefs
and practices from "less" to "more" rational, Enlightenment thinkers locat-
ed real religion in the abstract, ethical, and interiorized, thereby condemn-
ing everything else to the twilight of folk belief and superstirion. 9 One
might add the reinforcement brought by nineteenth- and twentieth-century
social sciences, whether Weberian demystification ("Entzauberung") of the
modernizing world, Durkheimian anthropology with its identification of
the elementary wirh the collective, or Marxian structuralism positing a
conflict of popular and elite religious cultures. 10 Finally, the challenge of
rapidly changing Christian churches in the late twentieth century has brought
revised approaches to the study of the Christian past but at the same time
shattered any coherent understandingY These ways of thinking all require
that early medieval relic culJs be evaluated, but they differ in what that
evaluation should be.
Other pitfalls lurk in the very terms which commonly structure narra-
tives of religious change: "conversion" and its dose cousins "Christianiza-
tion" and "reform." All three words imply a "before" and an "after" that are
in some way discernibly different. Two of them, "conversion" and "reform,"
have long histories in their own right within the re alm of the history of
ideas, involving changing meanings, polemical contexts, and ambivalent
connotations. 12 They nevertheless remain key concepts within all the differ-
ent master narratives of European religious history, inevitably encoding
value judgments and imposing interpretations.
The portmanteau term "reform" is particularly problematic for an early
medievalist. 13 For patristic writers, reformatiolreformare was the vocabulary of
the spiritual renewal of the human soul through the operation of divine
grace, or sometimes for the restitution of the property rights of individual
churches; only in the late eleventh century did its usage extend to include
a generalized renewal of the entire church, whether juridical, administra-
tive, or spiritual. 14 This latter institutional meaning has become normative,
but is profoundly anachronistic for the Carolingian period. Like their patris-
tic predecessors, Carolingian writers confined the vocabulary of reformare
and renovare to inner spiritual regeneration or, more rarely, specific situa-
tions requiring the restoration of buildings, property, bridges, and the like.
They used instead the vocabulary of correctio for the royal and episcopal task
of disciplining morals, behavior, and ecclesiastical organization. 15 Moreover,
the notion of correctio itself lacks the cyclical, iterative implications of "re-
form" or "re-newal." Ir acknowledged the inadequacy of current Christian
practices, yet implied that they might be successfully altered by enforce-
ment of the authoritative decrees of bishops in council and the edicts of
rulers. 16
When Einhard came to write about the miracle-working activities of Mar-

cellinus and Peter, he did so within the framework of correctio and emendatio.
His avowed aim was "to arouse the minds of all, through examples of the
lives and deeds of the just, to emending evil ways and praising God's
omnipotence."17 In this way, he associated hirnself and his saints with the
program of imperial and episcopal correction, orchestrating the emergence
of their shrine at Mulinheim as a new center of correct Christianity, a place
of exemplary holiness for empire and locality alike. 18 His project was simul-
taneously intensely personal and pointedly political: to make it succeed,
Einhard deployed to the full his exceptional literary talents and architec-
tural interests.
The project also relied upon its instigator's familiarity with the program-
matic ideology of the Carolingian rulers. Indeed, few would have been more
familiar with the imperial goals of Christian action and correction than
Einhard. Born c. 770, he first showed intellectual abilities whilst a pupil at
the prestigious monastery of Fulda. At some point before 796, Abbot Bau-
gulf sent the outstanding young scholar to the royal court, where he became
a friend and confidant of Charlemagne. Einhard recorded his debts to the
emperor in the preface to his Lift 0/ Charlemagne without, however, being
specific about his role at court. 19 From the testimony of others, we know
hirn to have been "a man greatly praised among all the courtiers of the day
not only for his learning but also for his completely honorable behavior."20
His integrity made hirn a valued political counselor: in 806, Charlemagne
entrusted hirn with a mission to Pope Leo III, and in 813 it appears to have
EMENDING EVIL WAYS 193
been Einhard who persuaded the aged emperor to make firm provisions for
the succession. 21 "He was prudent by nature, upright in action, eloquent in
speech, and adept in the art of many things. Emperor Charles raised hirn in
his own court and through hirn the emperor carried out many great works."22
Thus his epitaph would read: Einhard had an insider's knowledge of Char-
lemagne's court and its policy of correctio.
Moreover, he was one of the few courtiers who managed to retain influ-
ence after Charlemagne's death in 814. About ten years older than the new
emperor, Einhard was evidently something of a senior advisor to Louis the
Pious, who entrusted his eldest. son ancl) co-emperor Lothar to his guid-
ance. 23 Despite advancing years, Einhard continued to attend Louis's court
until at least 830.24 Thereafter, he certainly remained in dose contact, even
though his personal presence cannot be proven. 25 The years from 827 until
840 were dominated on the one hand by Einhard's promotion of the cult of
Marcellinus and Peter, and on the other by crisis at the imperial court, as
. corruption and aristocratic factionalism fueled succession disputes between
Louis's sons. Einhard seems to have managed to avoid taking sides during
the revolts of 830 and 833-34; he died on 14 March 840, three months
before the emperor's demise triggered civil war. 26
Early in his reign, Louis the Pious had rewarded Einhard for his loyalty
and good counsel with several choice lay abbacies and a grant of property.27
The latter consisted of two estates, Michelstadt and Mulinheim J gifted to
Einhard and his wife Imma on 11 January 815.28 The couple passed on the
former to the monastery of Lorsch in 819 whilst reserving rights to it for
the remainder of their own lives;29 Einhard probably retained pos session of
the latter until his death, for he buried Imma he re in 835 and was hirns elf
laid to rest beside her. Once established as a man of property he took up his
pen: all Einhard's extant literary output dates from Louis's reign. Indeed, it
is the last thirteen years of Einhard's life which are the best documented, for
both his letter collection and the Translation and Miracles 0/ Sts. Marcellinus
and Peter reveal much of the man hirns elf, in contrast to his self-effacing role
as the emperor's biographer. 30 Internal evidence suggests that the latter was
composed in the dosing months of 830, but the tale he told began a few
years earlier. 31 Since acquiring Michelstadt, he had built a church on the
estate, and by 827 was pondering which saint to choose as its dedicatee.
The Translation and Miracles opens with a conversation in the imperial
palace at Aachen between Einhard and a visiting deacon from Rome during
which the possibility of acquiring martyr relics from the holy city was
raised. Einhard relates the upshot vividly: he sent to Rome his personal notary
Ratleic who, with breathtaking audacity, managed to plunder a catacomb on
the Via Labicana and return north with the relics of the third-century martyrs
Marcellinus and Peter. In November 827, Ratleic and his holy baggagereached
Michelstadt. Einhard rushed to join them, but in January 828 transferred the
relics to lVIttlinheim} where he shortly afterwards began constructing the purpose-
built church which became their permanent home. 32
The establishment of a new shrine for imported saints required effort and
resources, as weIl as relics. To be successful, a new cult had to have an
impact on the locality and its inhabitants. The growth of this church's
property and its role as the central point of a substantial estate, with all its
tenurial, fiscal, and jurisdictional implications, forms the institutional and
economic backdrop against which to focus on the ways in which the relics'
arrival changed the local religious landscape, inspired new devotions, and
inaugurated correctio. 33
A sketch of the political and religious landscape of the region before the
martyrs' arrival provides the context. For centuries, the Roman Empire had
met the Germanic world along the Rhine, with a temporary extension of
the limes as far east as the Main valley until c. 250. However much the
frontier was a zone of cultural interaction and accommodation, it marked
the limit of an organized imperial church, with its bishoprics and martyrial
shrines. There had been Christians since the late fourth century in the eities
and settlements of the middle Rhine valley, most espeeially in and around
Mainz. 34 When Frankish kings asserted control over their area, the surviv-
ing Christian communities fell within their purview too.
Although the approximate chronology of the extension of Frankish hege-
mony east of the Rhine is clear, the ways in which this was linked to
cultural change, local aristocratic landholding, and the spread of Christian-
ity remain disputed. 35 We are concerned with one subregion in particular,
wedged between the duchies of Alemannia to the south and Thuringia to
the northeast and the region of Hesse to the northwest (figure I). Here the
River Main twisted arid turned its way through sparsely inhabited wooded
uplands: Mttlinheim lay on the western bank ab out thirty kilometers up-
stream from Frankfurt, Michelstadt in the woodlands to the west. This area
lacked any political or ethnic identity before the late eighth century; from
then on, its inhabitants were simply, if vaguely, referred to as the orientales
Franci} or osterliztdi} the "eastern folk."36
Although it is almost impossible to map the spread of Christianity east
of the Rhine before the central decades of the eighth century, it does seem
to have seeped in unobtrusively in various ways.37 That there was an easy
acculturation to local customs is suggested by various grave finds: seventh-
century women's girdle hangings incorporating the symbol of the cross, flat
bronze crosses themselves worn as girdle pendants, and eighth-century cru-
eiform brooches. 38 Local churches were certainly being built here and there
N
+ E
THC:.
GIA
t:d
~
t:r:l
Z
t)
H
Z
Cl
t:d
<:
t-<
~
BAVARIAI
>-
~
C/l
.
30 miles ,0
.
40 kilometres 80,
H
Fig. 1. Northern Francia in the time of Einhard. Based on Dutton, Charlemagne's COltrtier, maps I, 2, and 3 \D
VI
by the early eighth century-such as the one constructed by the priest

Adalhuno at Nilkheim (ne ar Aschaffenburg) and consecrated in 7I I/7I6 by
Rigibert, bishop of Mainz. 39 By and large, however, the bishops of Mainz or
Worms (such as there were) kept to themselves in their more urban milieux.
Irish and Anglo-Saxon monks-cum-missionaries also founded the occasional
church, as for example that built at Hammelberg on the Saale by WiHi-
brord in 7I7, on land given to hirn by Heden, duke of Thuringia. 40 iocal
rulers thus supported the holy men who came and went through the region,
and through them may even have had occasional contact with Rome. But
for the most part, Christianity here seems to have been a homegrown affair,
weH meshed with familial and political patterns, and lacking an infrastruc-
ture of bishoprics and of saints' shrines.
Christianity remained informal and familial, not organized or institution-
al, until the Anglo-Saxon monk-missionary-bishop Boniface took it upon
hirnself to preach in the region in 723. He arrived with an uncompromising
vision and a papal mandate; in time he also acquired decisive political
backing from the Carolingian mayors of the palace Pippin and Carloman.
On the ground, this translated into adetermination to organize ecclesiasti-
cal life into formal monastic and episcopal institutions and to eradicate
whatever worship he deemed debased, superstitious, hardly even Christian.
iocal priests who serviced the customary religious life of the localities were
turned into "false priests," heretics, and harbingers of Antichrist. 41 This was
correctio and emendatio in action. 42 Boniface's activities were closely associated
with the assertion of Carolingian control over the region-the Duchy of
Alemannia definitively in 746 at the batde of Canstatt, Thuringia appar-
endy in rather more gradual and piecemeal fashion in the mid-eighth cen-
tury-and resulted in the establishment of a network of bishoprics in the
area, dependent now on the Frankish church. 43 Boniface, his heirs and suc-
cessors further imposed themselves by overwriting the history of the region,
claiming the historiographical and hagiographical limelight in much the
same way as they rode roughshod over local Christian communities and
their practices. 44
Boniface had been martyred in Frisia and buried at his Thuringian mon-
astery of Fulda in 754, just three-quarters of a century before Einhard
brought Marcellinus and Peter to Mulinheim. The Anglo-Saxon missionary's
legacy was powerful, for his ideals fed straight into the determination of the
Carolingian kings Pippin III (75 I -68) and his son Charlemagne to alter the
religious life of their subjects. With it came struggle over what constituted
appropriate Christianity-whose terms should be regarded as normative,
how to enforce them. Perhaps nowhere were the disparities and dichotomies
sharper than in the diocese of Mainz, Boniface's own see and, from 780, an
EMENDING EVIL WAYS I97
archbishopric with far-flung jurisdiction. Stretching as it did from Mainz

southwards into the Alps and northwards almost to the base of the Danish
peninsula, the archdiocese embraced the huge spectrum of religious life that
characterized the eighth- and ninth-century Carolingian lands, from the
outright paganism of regions along and beyond the Slav fron tier, to the
disciplined life of Christian prayer of the many hundreds of monks at Fulda,
or the late antique martyrial shrine of Alban in the city of Mainz itself. 4S In
between these poles lay many shades of ordinary Christianity; in essence the
Carolingian pursuit of correctio interpreted this gray-scale in stark black-
and-white terms and then sought to eliminate the black. The practical
realities of this challenge were not so simple, however, as Einhard's younger
contemporary and admirer Hrabanus Maurus knew. First as abbot of Fulda
(822-42) and latterly as archbishop of Mainz (847-56), Hrabanus had in-
timate familiarity with the full range of Carolingian Christianities and their
attendant problems, from the courtly to the backwoods, the monastic to the
missionary.46 Within the ecclesiastical province of Mainz, the Carolingian
rhetoric of reform was sharpened, applied, and chaUenged.
On the borders of the bishoprics of Mainz and Wrz burg , Mulinheim lay
at the geographical center of this sprawling archdiocese. In the second half
of the eighth and the early ninth centuries Hesse, Thuringia, and the length
of the Main vaUey had been transformed by a massive growth in monastic
landowning, both that of aristocratic familial foundations and-of even
greater importance-that of two royal monasteries, Fulda to the north (found-
ed 744) and Lorsch to the southwest (founded 764). Through the exception-
aUy rich charter coUections of both monasteries, we not only glimpse the
impact of ecclesiastical landlordship on a huge scale but also witness the
local Christianity of the region in a process of reorganization. Both monas-
teries housed important saints' shrines-Boniface's grave at Fulda attracted
large crowds to the annual commemoration of his martyrdom; at Lorsch
imported relics of the Milanese martyr Nazarius worked miracles of heal-
ingY These saints' patronage exerted a powerful centripetal puU not only
on patterns of worship but also in tenurial and political terms. Many tiny
family monasteries, often no more than a few pious women-a widow and
her daughters and a servant or two-passed into the lordship of one or other
of these powerful monasteries. These rural churches would gradually devel-
op into the nodes of a protoparochial network of ecclesiastical organization
and jurisdiction. 48 And local religious practices fell under the scrutiny of
the agents of the ambitious program of religious correctio which Charle-
mag ne and Louis the Pious were striving to implement.
With his Fulda education and intimate knowledge of the imperial court,
Einhard shared this perspective. His disdain for the local, small religious
commulllties of the region is evident, and he dismissed them for their

inadequate observances ("propter rudern in his locis eius conversationis in-
stitutionem") and lack of inhabitants of any holiness whatsoever. 49 But this
was the milieu in which he built his churches at Michelstadt and Mttlin-
heim: in part, their significance derives from their local context, set among
the local proprietary churches of the region, in the interstices of the presti-
gious imperial monasteries of Fulda and Lorsch.
The wooded uplands of the Odenwald-the "forest of Germany" as Ein-
hard called i t 50-seem to have had very thin, scattered settlement prior to
the expansion of monastic landowning in the second half of the eighth
century.51 Apparently a royal forest, there is no documentary reference to
the area before 755/6, but the Lorsch charters reveal how, under the aegis of
royal patronage, the monks moved in as colonizers. 52 Lay landholders also
participated in opening the area up: in the four years between Louis the
Pious granting Michelstadt to Einhard in 8 I 5 and his passing ownership on
to Lorsch in 8I9, new buildings had been erected and the population in-
creased significantly.53 Einhard's activities here were thus a direct and vig-
orous contribution to "the humanisation of the landscape."54
They also contributed to its Christianization. When Einhard received
Michelstadt, it had only a single church, a small wooden one. 55 Four years
later it had at least two churches,56 and then in the early to mid-82oS he
built the magnificent stone church which still stands, although now muti-
lated. This is the church for which the Roman relics were intended, and
which was intended to be their permanent resting place (figure 2).57
But Einhard soon realized that his relics were not simply inert tokens of
Rome's early Christian heritage. 58 First oneof Ratleic's servants had avision
in which he was told that Ratleic had brought the saints to the wrong place
and that they had decided to move. 59 Next blood was discovered oozing
from their reliquary: Einhard and his priests found themselves confronting
an "astonishing miracle, worthy of our complete admiration."60 Then one of
the youths in Einhard's own retinue had avision of the saints who "menaced
hirn in frightening ways," demanding that Einhard be told to move them
to a different home. 61 More visions followed: Einhard was learning that
Marcellinus and Peter were terrifying wonder-workers, with personalities
and wills of their own. He responded by acceding to their demands, trans-
ferring them to Mttlinheim in the manner the saints themselves stipulated. 62
Einhard's narrative at this point can be read in several ways. One of the
saints had asked a member of his clerical staff in avision: "Why is Einhard
so hard-hearted and so obstinate that he does not believe so many visions
and warnings and thinks he may spurn messages sent to hirn from heav-
en?"63 But he did finally obey: and at one level this is a conversion narrative.
EMENDING EVIL W AYS 199
Main floar of the church
_ Extant
___ !1ci1>:t Presumed Reconstrudion
Crypt and foundations
5metres
,
10
I
15 feet
I
30I
Fig. 2. Einhard's church at Michelstadt. Adapted from Thomas Ludwig, Otto

Mller, and Irmgard Widdra-Spiess, Die Einhards-Basilika in Steinbach bei Michelstadt
im Odemvald, 2 vols. (Mainz, 1996), val. 2, plate 143.
On the other hand, we may view the oozing blood and the visions as the
mirades neeessary to authentieate the eult that followed. N ext to the altar
at Michelstadt Mareellinus and Peter shed their blood in a seeond martyr-
dom; their appearanees in angelie form affirmed their heavenly existenee.
These were the foundation stories of the basiliea at Mttlinheim.
We should also read the text against the standing arehiteeture of Ein-
hard's two ehurehes, Michelstadt and Mttlinheim. Miehelstadt's ground plan-
a central nave with side aisles, separated by a sereen from a trieellular,
triple-apsed rectangular ehoir-was dosely in line with the ehurehes re-
eently built to house showease monastie eommunities for Benediet of Aniane,
the chief proponent of a revised Benedietine monastieism and dose eounse-
lor of Louis the Pious. Like the model eommunities at Maursmnster and
Inden (Kornelimnster), the design of Michelstadt sharply separated priests
from laity and also aeeommodated the multiple altars neeessary for a liturgy
in whieh private eommemorative masses played a prominent role. 64 Unlike
these ehurehes, however, it had a erypt, entered only from the side aisles in
the lay part of the ehureh. Einhard designed this with a unique eruciform
plan. Could he have intended to install the saints' ashes here, beneath the
ehoir but not aeeessible to the priests who served at the altar? Or were they
to be enshrined in the eastern, liturgieal, end of the ehureh?
We do not know. Either way, Michelstadt would have eoped with diffi-
eulty with the erowds whieh the relies would eome to attraet. Moreover, it
was an out-of-the-way loeation, if not quite the "place apart, far from the
madding erowd" as Einhard deseribed it. 65 Mttlinheim, by eontrast, had two
nudei, upper and lower, and was an old Roman fort and eivilian settlement
right on the banks of the River Main, an arterial waterway linking Bavaria
with the middle Rhineland, and also aeeessible along old Roman roads. 66
The ehureh at Mttlinheim to whieh the relies moved would seem to have
been substantial; the large one whieh Einhard would go on to build there
was speeifieally designed for a relie eult and its pilgrims. 67 The decision to
transfer the relies may thus have marked a major change in Einhard's plans
as the deeision to launeh a major new eult site formed in his mind. In
presenting hirnself as the obedient servant of the martyrs' demands, he was
masking hirnself with the persona of the saints in good late antique tradition. 68
On r6 January 828, Einhard turned his back on Michelstadt, effeetively
abandoning it. 69 Mareellinus and Peter had told hirn where to take them;
the overnight journey from Michelstadt to Mttlinheim marked their "eoming
out" as mirade-working saints of great appeal. Ir seems that, in the years
sinee 8 r 5, Einhard had turned Michelstadt into something of a regional
center for the distribution of alms: as the proeession bearing the relies left
Miehelstadt under heavy winter skies, it was aeeompanied by a group of
poor folk who had floeked there to reeeive eharity. Those earrying the relies
made an overnight stop at Ostheim (near Aschaffenburg) whilst Einhard
hirns elf rode ahead to Mulinheim; that January night marked the inaugura-
tion of a publie eult whieh was to have huge repereussions. In the litde
ehureh at Ostheim, the saints worked their first healing miracle; meanwhile
at Mulinheim, Einhard made the neeessary preparations for reeeiving the
saints. Doubdess he arranged their liturgieal reeeption. But he also passed
around the word: the saints who had left Michelstadt without the loeal
population realizing what was going were greeted en route the next morn-
ing by "a huge multitude of neighbors" who had traveled out from Mulin-
heim, exeited by the news of the saints' arrival. 70 By the time the proeession
reaehed there, the throng was so large that any attempt to take the relies
into the ehureh had to be abandoned; instead an open-air Mass was eelebrat-
ed in a nearby field. Only then eould the clergy enter the ehureh and
eelebrate another Mass indoors. On 17 January, a day as warm, bright, and
balmy as if it were spring, aeeording to Einhard, the relies announeed their
arrival at Mulinheim with many miraeulous eures. 71 Mareellinus and Peter
had eome horne.
Einhard did not know why these powerful saints had deigned to take up
residenee with hirn. But he rose to the challenge, determined that they
should reeeive "fitting honors."72 His understanding of what that implied
ehanged in step with his growing aeeeptanee of the martyrs' own will. Plans
for a splendid new reliquary at Michelstadt had al ready been overtaken by
the deeision to move to Mulinheim, but that deeision was not in itself
suffieient, for a sueeessful eult site requires "a moment um of miraeulous-
ness."73 It demands an audienee-miracutes, witnesses, and gossipers-and
presupposes that its devotees are reeeptive to divine power working in this
manner. The move had initiated this. But if the veneration was not to
remain a flash in the pan, it needed energetie maintenanee. Hagiographieal
narratives are normally more eoneerned to represent saindy virtus in action
than to demonstrate how it was inaugurated and sustained; but at Mulin-
heim, we may glimpse in some detail the ways in whieh the eult of the relies
of Mareellinus and Peter aequired and maintained its momentum.
Einhard's strategies were politieal, textual, and arehiteetural. All three
indieate the eonneetion between relies and correctio. The first of these will
detain us for a while. Immediately after the relies' move to Mulinheim,
Einhard returned to the imperial court at Aaehen. 74 By this date a rapidly
growing market town, Aaehen was replete with the mixed population at-
traeted to any plaee of power-eareerist courtiers, administrators whether
effieient or lazy, Christian and Jewish merehants, litigants and eriminals,
builders and beggars, pimps and prostitutes. Built as the exemplary center
of an exemplary empire, the palace was the primary stage on which Carol-
ingian rituals of rulership were enacted, but away from the limelight, shady
characters lurked. Ir was even the place where, according to Notker the
Stammerer, the devil lay in wait for unwary kings. 75
In the corridors of power Einhard, too, found the devil at work. On
arrival in late January 828, he was appalled to learn the latest gossip, the
"execrable story spread about by the cunning of the devil": 76 that a priest in
the service of the imperial arch-chaplain, Hilduin abbot of Saint-Denis
(Paris) and Saint-Medard (Soissons), had accompanied Einhard's men to
Rome, and had stolen part of the relics during the return journey. Einhard's
political finesse enabled hirn to extract one version of truth from Hilduin;
his own men provided a variant but conceded that the Roman cleric who
had been helping them in Rome had been bribed by Hilduin's man to rob
Ratleic of part of the relics. 77 Einhard was able to negotiate the return of the
missing portions, but not until after the octave of Easter 828 did he actually
take the box containing the relics into his own hands. He installed them in
a makeshift chapel within his own townhouse at Aachen.
The court had celebrated Easter in the palatine chapel dedicated to Christ
and the Virgin. No miracle-working relics had been interred or enshrined
there-doubtless in fear lest the drama of thaumaturgy disrupt the splendor
of imperial liturgy. Marcellinus and Peter were, it seems, the first potent
saints to arrive at court: and once safe in Einhard's possession, they imme-
diately started working miracles. Their beautiful fragrance perfumed the
town, crowds flocked to Einhard's house from the town and its hinterland,
the sick were healed. 78 Louis the Pious and the empress Judith gave gifts. 79
Jews witnessed the miracles of the Christian God and gave thanks. 80 On one
occasion, an itinerant builder working on the palace who had been crippled
was carried in by his friends and placed in front of the saints' altar. Watched
by all bystanders, he became straightened-"corrected"-and walked away
unaided, albeit limping. The remaining lameness Einhard interpreted as an
outer sign that the man still needed to continue to work towards his inner,
spiritual healing. 81 Miracles of physical correction were thus the tokens of
interior correction. Aachen had become a place of almsgiving, healing, and
reconciliation: veneration of Marcellinus and Peter inspired correct Chris-
tianity in )the midst of courtly corruption.
Einhard's courtly skills had won the return of the missing portions; now
he used them to promote their cult far and wide. His web of court contacts
turned into a network for dissemination as he distributed small portions of
the relics to other churches in the region, at Valenciennes, Ghent, Maas-
tricht, and Trier. 82 By the end of that summer, each except Trier had sent on
EMENDING EVIL W AYS 23
to Einhard a libeflus containing a formal wrltten memorandum of the mir-

ades which had occurred there. 83
By then, Einhard had hirnself returned to Mulinheim, where mirades were
continuing in his absence. Having established the saints' reputation at court,
his journey with the recovered portions of the bodies was a triumphal six-
day procession through the countryside. 84 The devotion of the villagers was
manifest everywhere-and commemorated in a way which left a permanent
mark on the landscape. lust outside Wiesbaden, the townsfolk erected a
cross at the spot where they met the relic-bearing procession: this too
created a new sire of divine power. Eighteen months later (December 829),
when Einhard's baggage train got lost in a dense, dark fog in the forests
there, his servants stumbled upon the wayside cross. They invoked the
martyrs, and extended shimmers of lightning showed them the path they
had lost and dispelled the frosty douds. 85 Marcellinus and Peter's transfor-
mative effect on both lands cape and weather had again been demonstrated.
Those who trusted themselves to the curative power of Marcellinus and
Peter shared a belief that shrines were places where they might become
whole again. They shared too apredisposition to try out the new shrine at
Mulinheim. 86 There is little surprise in this, for men and women often trav-
eled far and wide in the ninth century in search of healing at saints' shrines. 87
In this case, the information which Einhard and his notaries took care to
record enables us to gauge something of the spread of the shrine's reputa-
tion. Approximately half of the people cured there came from within the
Maingau, attracted by the presence of saints' relics in their midst for the
first time. 88 But the rest came from much further away. These were people
who made real choices about which shrines to visit. From their places of
origin, or the reports of the circumstances which brought them to Mulin-
heim, it is evident that the Rhine was as much the conduit of gossip about
new shrines as ir was of people, grain, and merchandise. 89 These visitors
induded landowners and peasants, the infirm and the mad, women and
men, priests and pilgrims: Einhard took care to stress the universality of his
saints' appeal.
But we should not be duped into mistaking this for consensus. The
opening salutation of the Translation and Miracles, to "The true worshipers
and the not false lovers of the true God, ]esus Christ our lord, and his
saints," hints that Einhard was arguing a case. 90 Not until his dosing words
is it evident just how polemical he knew he was being: he urged "the
unbelievers and those who disparage the glory of the saints" not to bot her
to read his words lest they respond with "blasphemy and spite."91 In those
parts of Francia where Christianity had been strongly rooted from the fourth
century onwards (and in some places, even earlier), a new shrine had to
establish itself alongside preexisting ones, and the recording and publiciz-
ing of miracles was a means of achieving this. 92 But this was hardly the case
on the banks of the Main. In view of this, the atmosphere of contestation
within which Marcellinus and Peter flourished requires a different explana-
tion. We find it by returning to the imperial court.
In the spring of 828, just as Marcellinus and Peter were settling down at
Mulinheim, Louis the Pious's empire was sliding into crisis. There were
military problems along all the frontiers, exceptional weather conditions,
failed harvests and cattle disease, accusations of malpractice and corruption.
Aristocratic factionalism and riyal imperial ideologies were beginning to
fuse with a succession crisis. In November 828, Louis and Lothar convened
an assembly at Aachen to deliberate. Here Wala, Louis's senior surviving
male relative (he was Charlemagne's cousin, formerly a count but now abbot
of Corbie), circulated a memorandum setting out all the vices, corruptions,
and sins which he considered beset the Franks. 93 After lengthy discussions,
the emperors sent out missi (imperial officials), to inquire into the behavior
of royal officials and clergy alike. 94 They also issued a general letter calling
for regional church councils to meet the following spring. There the arch-
bishops and their suffragans would "discover by inquiry [what should be
done} about their own correctio and emendatio and that of all of us, in accor-
dance with divine authority." The emperors went on to acknowledge that
they themselves ought to be the forma salutatis, the "model of salvation," in
all things and to be the ones "to correct depraved deeds by imperial author-
ity," but that they had nevertheless sinned: for this they desired God's
pardon. 95
The synods' agenda included the huge issues of the appropriate relation-
ship of royal and ecclesiastical authority together with problems of church
property and the conduct of prelates and priests. 96 Of the four regional
synods summoned to formulate the route to correctio, only the text of that
which met in Paris in June 829 has survived. 97 Einhard demonstrably had
access to its dossier, including the emperors' general letter, when he wrote
the Translation and Miracles. 98 By lifting words and phrases from it he crafted a
savage, if veiled, attack on the arch-chaplain, Hilduin. 99 Hilduin, architect of
the theft of parts of Marcellinus and Peter, was the "false lover of the true God"
whose evil ways must be corrected, the object of Einhard's attack.
The conflict between Einhard and Hilduin ran deeper than that, however.
Hilduin was also central to the political tensions swirling around Louis the
Pious: in 830 he would be found among the rebellion's ringleaders, which
would result in his banishment from court. Einhard, by contrast, would
apparently remain loyal to both the aging emperor and his rebellious sons.
In this highly charged political atmosphere, both men exploited the relics
of martyrs. As abbot of Saint-Denis and Saint-Medard, Hilduin had much

experience of this, and was hirns elf a skilIed hagiographer and promoter of
saints' cults. 100 In 826, he had importuned Pope Eugenius III to let hirn
have the body of St. Sebastian; this was the first translation of corporeal
relics from Rome in almost fifty years. 101 Einhard's determination in 827 to
get relics from Rome must have been a direct riposte to this much-acdaimed
coup, and in 830 he informed Louis the Pious that Marcellinus and Peter
had arrived in Francia for "the raising up and protection" of the troubled
empire. 102 Retrospectively writing of the accumulating signs of imminent
disaster in 830, Pascasius Radbettus noted the sudden outpouring of mira-
des by saints "long since asleep in Christ." "Everywhere the saints brought
into this realm from hither and yon", he wrote "have aroused each other in
symphony of song as at cockcroW."103
But cocks crow in competition as well as unison, and both Hilduin and
Einhard knew that martyrs' bones were "good to argue with." Carolingian
churchmen did not tolerate living thaumaturges, and so long-dead saints
became apt holy mouthpieces for political rivalries. If Hilduin thought he
had acquired the trump card by obtaining Sebastian, Einhard outmaneu-
vered hirn. As he sat in that difficult winter assembly of 828, two envoys
came from Mulinheim. The first was Ratleic, bringing a booklet which
Alberic, a blind man resident at the shrine, had dictated to hirn. It con-
tained an agenda of twelve bullet-points (capitula) which the Archangel
Gabriel, disguised as St. Marcellinus, had dictated to Alberic, with the firm
instruction to pass it on to the emperor, which Einhard did. 104 We know
that Louis read it but ignored its contents-and a later generation believed
hirn to burn in hell as a result. 105 Shortly afterwards, the second messenger
arrived: he brought the account of the exorcism of Wiggo. As summarized
by Einhard, Wiggo's words very dosely resembled the general letter circu-
lated in the winter of 828 and then attached to the text of the 829 Paris
reform counci1. 106 God's most potent messenger (disguised as a martyr speak-
ing to a blind man who dictated the message to Ratleic to give to Einhard
to give to Louis) and a devil (whose name looks suspiciously like a pun on
the emperor's name) combined to bring to court the same message of the
urgent need to deanse the empire of evil at all levels of society.107 The call
for correctio emanating from the shrine at Mulinheim was unambiguous.
Written at the end of 830, the Translation and Miracles was thus a re-
newed call for penance and correction in the aftermath of that spring's
revolt against Louis the Pious. Einhard had already demonstrated his saints'
curative powers and political importance; now he turned to his literary
skills to further the development of their cult. He crafted it from a wide
range of sources: his own recollections, Ratleic's detailed information ab out
his trip to Rome, the many stories circulating as rumor and gossip which he
had strained his ears to catch, the records of mirades kept by his staff at
Mttlinhei17z, material from the crisis deliberations of 828-29, and libelli sub-
mitted by the dergy of the shrines to which relics had been distributed.
These he blended with panache, exercising as much creative literary talent
as in his invention of the genre of royal biography, and with comparable
influence on subsequent writers. 108 As he presented it, the tale also told of
his own conversion from the courtier skeptical of unusual mirades to the
enthusiastic proponent of the saints' cult, from the saints' patron to their
dient. Like the Lift 0/ Charlemagne, the Translation and lvIiracles combined
surface panegyric and covert polemic. 109 Its survival in more manuscript
copies than is usual for ninth-century accounts of relic translations strongly
suggests that Einhard had copies distributed. His intended audience was, it.
seems, a far larger textual community than merely the staff of his church at
lvIttlinheim and the pilgrims who flocked there: it induded all proponents of
correctio, whether bishops, abbots, or laity.llo
The martyrs' literary farne ensured, Einhard's final move to maintain the
momentum of the miraculous was to build another church at Mttlinheim,
expressly designed for pilgrims to venerate the relics. The decision to build
it had been taken in principle by the spring of 830,111 and his letters testify
to the great effort involved in summoning the necessary political will, labor
force, and material resources necessary to undertake it,u2 Its design reveals
much about the long-term role which Einhard intended Marcellinus and
Peter to play (figure 3).
Still standing, its central feature is an extended continuous transept with
an apsidal east end opening off it, and a crypt for the relics located exactly
under the high altar. The grave chamber for Einhard and Imma lies imme-
diately to the west of the relic crypt. Accessible via a semicircular passage
around the interior of the apse, this layout reflected that of the most impor-
tant shrine of the Latin West, St. Peter's in Rome, where an annular crypt
had been inserted c. 600 to improve access for pilgrims (figure 4).
Whilst NIttlinheim was not the first Carolingian church to copy St. Peter's
in this respect (both Saint-Denis and Fulda preceded it), it had an even
more precise referent in one of the new churches which Ratleic would have
seen being completed in Rome in 827.
No pope of the Carolingian period was more dosely connected to the
revival of early Christian forms of church architecture in Rome than Paschal
I (817-24). An energetic restorer of old churches and builder of new ones,
his finest extant achievement is the church of Sta Prassede (figure 5).113 Its
plan is a reduced version of St. Peter's: a nave with side aisles (albeit single
not double), a continuous transept off which opens a semicircular western
E E
A = Ring crypt beneath apse
B = Confessio behind altar
C = ReHes of Saints Marcellinus and Peter
D =Tomb of Einhard and Imma
E =Steps down to crypt
F = Steps up to choir
10 m,etres 2,0
30 feet
!
60I
Fig. 3. Einhard's church at lvIttlinheilll. Adapted from A. Schubert, "La

basilica dei SS. Marcellino e Pietro a Mulinheim sul Meno secondo
recenti scavi," Rivista di Archeologia Cristiana 15 (1938): fig. 4.
25 m,etres 5,0
75 ~eet 1~0
Fig. 4. St. Peter's, Rome. Adapted from Roger Stalley, Earl)' lVIedieval
Architectttre (Oxford, 1999), fig. 6.
.. . .. . . .
.. . . . .
_:________ _
~1IIIIiIIIIiIIII1iIIIIIIIIIIIII==-:_:
Fig. 5. Sta Prassede, Rome. Adapted from Rotraut Wisskirchen, Das

ivlosaikprogralllJJl von S. Prassede in Rom: Ikonographie lind Ikonologie,
Jahrbuch fr Antike und Christentum Ergnzungsband 17 (Mnster,
1990), appendix 1.
apse, a relic confessio direcdy under the high altar accessible from a ring
crypt underneath the apse (figure 6).11 4
In the crypt, Paschal interred the relics of twenty-three hundred saints
whose relics he had translated from Rome's catacombs.11 5 He also decorated
the church's triumphal arch and apse with mosaics harking direcdy back to
the sixth-century ones in SS Cosma e Damiano: the triumphal arch depicts
the entry of martyrs and saints into the heavenly Jerusalem; the apse depicts
Paschal himself in the company of St. Praxedis herself being presented to
Christ by Sts. Pet er and Paul. 1l6 He deviated from the plan of St. Peter's to
add three side chapels, only one of which is still standing. This, the Zeno
chapel, was a funerary chapel for his mother Theodora; it too is decorated
~
lLlJ
25 m,etres 5.0
Fig. 6. Comparative plans of (from left to right) St Peter's, Sta

Prassede, lHltlinheilll, drawn to same scale. Adapted from Richard
Krautheimer, "The Carolingian Revival of Early Christian
Architecture," in his StIldies in Earl)' Christiall, lVledieval, and Renaissance
Alt (New York, 1969), fig. 14a.
with a sophisticated iconographical program in sparkling mosaic. 117 Con-

ceivably Paschal hirns elf was buried here: whatever the case, he associated
hirnself more intimately with this church than with any other.
Sta Prassede rapidly established itself as a template for churches housing
translated Roman relics. Within a few years of its completion, it was being
emulated both to the south of Rome, at Farfa, and far to the north, at
lvIttlinheim. 118 Einhard's church was not, however, a slavish copy. For astart,
it was oriented to the east, whereas Sta Prassede followed St. Peter's in
having the liturgical east at the geographical west end. And its nave arcades
are made of round arches set upon square pillars, yet Sta Prassede has
architraves resting upon columns. Unlike Sta Prassede, it lacked an atrium.
Yet in other respects, the parallels between Sta Prassede and lvIttlinheim are
dose and precise. Both employ brick as a major building material; both
were purpose-built to house the relics of saints translated from the cata-
combs; both were simultaneously pilgrimage and funerary churchesY9 Sad-
ly, all trace of Einhard's original interior decorations has vanished, and we
can he only speculate whether he also echoed in fresco Pascal's distinctive
mosaic ecclesiology.
Einhard's new church was, then, an architecturally self-conscious state-
ment of contemporary Romanness. It was built to accommodate the pil-
grims who came to seek divine grace at the shrine of Marcellinus and Peter.
It might also have been designed with an eye to close observance of Roman
liturgical practices. 120 By enabling the laity to enter the transepts en route
to the crypt via the stairs beside the altar, it uni ted clergy and laity in the
veneration of Marcellinus and Peter. In this, it was quite unlike the church
at Michelstadt, whose layout was intended to keep clergy and laity apart.
Not only relics but also brick-and-stone ecclesiology had been translated
from the Tiber to the Main.
Marcellinus and Peter's presence transformed Mulinheim into an echo of
Rome in Germany. They made it a holy city: within seven years of Einhard's
death we find it referred to as Saligunstat, the holy place. The change of
name took hold: it is now the town of Seligenstadt. 121 Had Einhard hirnself
chosen the new name? He certainly enjoined exemplary behavior on its
clerical staff: they were to be a forma salutis, a model of salvation to younger
people. 122 Perhaps he despaired of the emperor ever being able to fulfill that
role. Mulinheim-Seligenstadt was the model of correct Christianity in a de-
vout, united congregation.
U nlike Aachen, Seligenstadt was a place of true faith in Christ and his
saints, where God's omnipotence was praised, where there was no room for
evil ways. Also at Seligenstadt, an area previously devoid of saint's shrines
had now acquired its own focus of devotion, to which people flocked from
ne ar and far. Here the message of correctio was broadcast in many ways:
through the messages which archangels and demons entrusted to blind men
and peasant girls, through the miracles which made men and women whole
both spiritually and physically, through the model life of the religious
community. The momentum of the miraculous which had been unleashed
at Michelstadt had been institutionalized, promulgated, defended, celebrat-
ed. A cult had been instituted that would endure for centuries: the feet of
generations of pilgrims abraded the steps leading down into the martyrs'
crypt until it was blocked off c. 1250, and the most recent pilgrimage there
was in 1993. 123
In 1911, Max Manitius commented on the Translation and Miracles that "its
highly gifted author fully shared the superstitions of his age."124 Although
in keeping with the attitudes of his own day, his condemnation of the
miraculous activities of Marcellinus and Peter as "superstitions" could not
EMENDING EVIL WAYS 2II
have been more misconceived. Rather, their cult shows how the miraculous
and tangible was in no way antithetical to ethical and educated religion. For
Einhard used the Roman martyr relics he acquired to argue the case for
correctio. In an age when paganism persisted only around western Europe's
northern and eastern periphery, the beliefs and practices of many of Europe's
Christians left much scope for improvement, at least in the verdict of those
who subscribed to the ideals of correct Christianity. Throughout the Carol-
ingian empire-at its very heart, at Aachen, even-the task was not conver-
sion, in the sense of the baptism of pagans, but rather the upgrading of
Christian observance, the elimination of inappropriate customs, and the
substitution of authorized forms of devotion and morality. Einhard showed
what the veneration of martyrs could contribute to this goal.
More than this, Einhard's account reminds us that the definition and
fostering of correct Christianity was a matter of political negotiation and
was by no means consensual. Certainly, correctio was at the heart of the
Carolingian royal vision of society, but early medieval religious politics did
not neatly divide elite from popular, clerical from lay, or court from country.
Rather, correctio provided a vocabulary, a repertoire of norms, and an array of
procedures from which a wide range of individuals and institutions could
appropriate whichever elements each cared to select. Those individuals in-
cluded married laity as weH as bishops, peasants as weH as aristocrats,
serving boys as weH as kings. Their personal religious enthusiasms and
hopes varied, embracing personal commemoration, physical and spiritual
health, institutional advantage, a devout audience receptive to preaching
whether in word or in deed. Religious change in the Carolingian empire
was multiple in motifs, preoccupations and proponents. It emerges from
this analysis as a many-stranded endeavor; as competitive, at least within
the elite; as something which congealed around specific nodes-here and
there an aristocratic residence, a relic shrine, an imperial monastery. Under-
neath the rhetoric of religious uniformity, the mandate for change rein-
forced the plurality of Carolingian Christianities-imperial and local, lay
and monastic, urban and rural, traditional and corrected.
The uses to which Einhard put MarceHinus and Peter included personal
devotion, conjugal commemoration, and political argument. At the core of
this paper, however, is the argument that he promoted their cult as a
localization of the teaching of a universalizing church. 125 In his townhouse
at Aachen, the relics offered correction and salvation in the presence of a
corrupt court. At Mulinheim, the exemplary became the particular in writ-
ten text, built brick, and ritual cult: it thereby changed the landscape of the
Maingau and the behavior of its inhabitants. Mulinheim became a new holy
place-ao Seligenstadt-from wh ich evils could be denounced and where a
holy way of life could be fostered. Here, Einhard could "warn [others} ab out
how to correct [their} behavior,"126 for relic cult and emendation were insep-
arable.
NOTES
I am greatly indebted to the Davis Center for electing me to the fellow-

ship which enabled me to carry out this research, and to all the participants
in the Davis Center seminar whose responses to the first version of this
paper did much to improve it. Donald Bullough, John Contreni, David
Ganz, Mayke de Jong, and Larry Nees all subsequently provided specialist
Carolingian expertise for which I am extremely grateful. I am of course
responsible for any remaining mistakes.
I. Einhard, Translatio et Miracttla Sanetorum Mareellini et Petri, III.14, ed.
G. Waitz, MGH SS XV, pt. 1, pp. 253-4. All translations are my own; cf.
the translation in Paul Edward Dutton, ed. and trans., Charlemagne's Court-
ier: The Complete Einhard (Peterborough, Ont., 1998), pp. 69-130.
2. Hildemar, Expositio regulae S. Benedieti, ed. R. Mittermller (Regens-
burg, 1880), as quoted by David Ganz, "The Preconditions for Caroline
Minuscule," Viator 18 (1987): 39. For important comments on the relation-
ship between emendation and authority in the early Middle Ages see Mar-
tin Irvine, The Making 0/ Textual Culture: Grammatiea and Literary Theory,
350-I IOO (Cambridge, 1994), esp. pp. 74-7 8, 280-87, 298-313.
3. Prologue to Admonitio generalis, MGH Capit. I, no. 22, p. 53, 1. 41,
p. 54, 11. I, 3.
4. Peter Brown, "Conversion and Christianization in Late Antiquity:
The Case of Augustine," in The World 0/ Late Antiquity: The Challenge 0/ New
Historiographies, ed. Richard Lim and Carole Straw (Berkeley, Calif., forth-
coming); Davis Center seminar paper, p. 35. Also William Klingshirn,
Caesarius 0/ Arles: The Making 0/ a Christian Commttnity in Late Antique Gaul
(Cambridge, 1994), chap. 10 on the important reception of Caesarius in the
Carolingian era.
5. The lack of attention to saints' cults in this context reflects the ways
in which studies of religious change in the Carolingian era still confine
their scope to those issues on which kings and bishops legislated insistently.
Since the regulation of saints' cults was a very modest topic of legislative
attention, saints and relics have remained marginal to studies of "correct
Christianity." For regulation of relic cults, see Eugene A. Dooley, Chureh
Law on Saered Relies (Washington, D.C., 1931); Nicole Hermann-Mascard,
Les reliqttes des saints: Formation coutumiere d'un droit (Paris, 1975).
EMENDING EVIL WAYS 21 3
6. Jean Chelini, Valtbe du moyen age: Naissance de la chretiente medirfvale

(Paris, 1991); Valerie Flint, The Rise of Magic in Early Medieval Eltrope
(Princeton, N.]., 1991).
7. Arnold Angenendt, Das Frithmittelalter: Die abendl'ndische Christenheit
von 400 bis 900 (Stuttgart, 1990), pp. 43-45; Rosamond McKitterick,
"Conclusion," New Cambridge Medieval History, vol. 2: c. 700-c. 900 (Cam-
bridge, 1995), p. 847
8. Jacques Le Goff as cited by Marc van Uytfanghe, "La controverse
biblique et patristique autour du miracle, et ses repercussions sur
l'hagiographie dans l'Antiquite tardive et le haut moyen age latin," Hagio-
graphie, cultures, societes IVe-XIIe siecles (Paris, 1981), p. 205; John Contreni,
"The Carolingian Renaissance," in Renaissances Be/ore the Renaissance: Cultural
Revivals of Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages, ed. Warren Treadgold (Stan-
ford, Calif., 1984), pp. 59-74.
9. Cf. David Murray, "Object Lessons: Fetishism and Hierarchies of
Religion and Race," in Conversion: Old Worlds and New, ed. Kenneth Mills
and Anthony Grafton (Rochester, N.Y., forthcoming).
10. Arnold Angenendt, Heilige und Reliquien: Die Geschichte ihres Kultes
vom frhen Christentum bis zur Gegenwart (Munich, 1994) conveniently sur-
veys shifting responses and growing tensions in attitudes towards saints and
relics from the sixteenth century onwards.
I I. For recent reflections on historiographical trends and tensions by
high-Iate medieval historians, see John Van Engen, "The Christian Middle
Ages as an Historiographical Problem," American Historical Review 91 (1986):
5 19-52 ; Peter Biller, "Popular Religion in the Central and Later Middle
Ages," in Companion to Historiography, ed. Michael Bentley (London, 1997),
pp. 221-46. Early medievalists have gene rally avoided these wide-ranging
controversies; the only contribution known to me is the Fragestellung of
Arnold Angenendt, Geschichte der Religiositt im Mittelalter (Darmstadt, 1997),
pp. I-3
12. For "conversion" see the papers in this volume and its companion
volume, Mills and Grafton , Conversion: Old Worlds and New; on "reform" see
the essay "Reform, Reformation," in Geschichtliche Grundbegriffe: Historisches
Lexikon zur politisch-sozialen Sprache in Deutschland, ed. Otto Brunner, Werner
Conze, and Reinhart Koselleck, 8 vols, (Stuttgart, 1972-97), 5:313-60,
and bibliography there cited. The English word "Christianization" is a
nineteenth-century neologism.
13. See the pointed remarks of Gerd Tellenbach, The Church in Western
Europe from the Tenth to the Early Twelfth Century, tr. Timothy Reuter (Cam-
bridge, 1993), pp. 157-62; Timothy Reuter, '''Kirchenreform' und 'Kirch-
enpolitik" im Zeitalter Karl Martells: Begriffe und Wirklichkeit," in Karl
Martell in seiner Zeit, ed Jrg Jarnut, Ulrich Nonn, and Michael Richter,
Beihefte der Francia 37 (Sigmaringen, 1994), pp. 35-59, esp. pp. 40-42.
14. Gerhart B. Ladner, "Gregory the Great and Gregory VII: A Compar-
ison of Their Concepts of Renewal," Viator 4 (1973): 1-31; idem, "Terms
and Ideas of Renewal," in Renaissance and Renewal in the Twe/fth Century, ed.
Robert 1. Benson and Giles Constable (Oxford, 1982), pp. 1-33; Giles
Constable, "Renewal and Reform in Religious Life: Concepts and Reali-
ties," ibid., pp. 37-67.
I 5. These generalizations rest on two lexical anal yses. (I) The indices to
MGH Capit. and MGH Conc. s.vv. correctio, corrigere, emendatio, emendare,
reformare, renovare, make clear the heavy preponderance of the vocabulary of
correction and emendation. U sage of re/ormare is confined to two instances
referring to the monastic office and one to polluted holy places (MGH
Capit. I, no. 30, p. 81,1. I; no. 141, cl. 10, p. 290; no. 179, cl. 13, p. 369).
(2) Alcuin's letters (MGH Epp. IV) are full of the language of correctiol
corrigere (but rarely emendatiolemendare) in his letters of advice to kings and
bishops. His correspondence occasionally uses re/ormatio in a spiritual sense;
in addition to spiritual regeneration, reformare mayaiso refer to the resump-
tion of ecclesiastical order, a renewed correspondence, or the recovery of a
person's physical energy; renovare applies to bridges, relationships, etc.
16. The grounding of the notion of correctio in late Roman legislative tradi-
tion is pointed out by Ladner, "Gregory the Great and Gregory VII," p. 24; and
by Janet 1. Nelson, "On the Limits of the Carolingian Renaissance," in her
Politics and Ritual in Early Medieval Europe (London, 1986), pp. 53-4 (first
published in Studies in Church History 14 [1977): 51-67). On the connection
between correction and ruling (corrigere-regere), see Hans Hubert Anton, Frsten-
spiegel und Herrscherethos in der Karolingerzeit, Bonner Historische Forschungen 32
(Bonn, 1968), pp. 57-58, 95---96; Marc Reydellet, La Royaute clans la litterature
latine de Sidoine Apollinaire a Isidore de Seville, Bibliotheque des Ecoles Franc;aises
d'Athenes et de Rome 243 (Rome, 1981), pp. 575-58; Thomas Martin Buck,
Admonitio und Praedicatio: Zur religis-pastoralen Dimension von Kapitularien und
kapitulariennahen Texten (507-8I4), Freiburger Beitrge zur Mittelalterlichen
Geschichte 9 (Frankfurt, 1997)
Correctio was also the vocabulary of sixth-century canon law. It is used
occasionally in Visigothic church councils, for example 7th Council of To-
ledo, cl. I; Council of Merida, cl. 18; and 11th Council of Toledo, cls. 7-
8, Concilios visig6ticos e hispano-romanos, ed. Jose Vives (Barcelona, 1963), pp.
249, 338, 360-61; and more frequently in Merovingian councils together
with emendatio (for example Ist Council of Orleans, cl. 5; Council of Cler-
mont, cl. 2; 4th Council of Orleans, cls. 15-16; Council of Tours, epistola ad
plebem; Council of Chalon, cls. I I, 14, 18, 19, Concilia Galliae, A. 5 I I-A.
EMENDING EVIL W AYS 21 5
695, ed. Charles de Clercg, Corpus Christianorum series latina, vo1. I48A
(Turnhout, 1963), pp. 6, 106, 136 , 197, 35-7.
17. Translatio et miracula, praef., p. 239.
18. Einhard's vocabulary of change is typical of his day. He never uses
re/ormatiolreformare; his single usage of renovare comes in the context of hu-
man emotions; letter to Lupus of Ferrieres: Servati Lupi epistolae, no. 3, ed.
Peter K. Marshall (Leipzig, 1984), p. 5,1. 21. Correctio/corrigere occurs in the
typically legislative context of Charlemagne's intention to revise the ethnic
law codes of his peoples, Vita Karoli 29, ed. O. Holder-Egger, MGH SSRG
(Hanover, 1911; reprint ed., 1965), p. 33,1. 7; and of his own responsibil-
ities towards Lothar: "[Hludowicus] meaegue parvitati praecepit, ut vestri
curam gere rem, ac vos de moribus corrigendis et honestis atgue utilibus
sectandis, sedulo commonerem," Einhardi epistolae I I, ed. K. Hampe, MGH
Epp. V, p. 114. His usage of emendare is more wide-ranging, extending from
Charlemagne's overhaul of the liturgy (Vita Karoli 26, p. 3 I 1. 14), through
a penitential turn towards God (Ep. 2, p. 109) to the repair of buildings (Ep.
5, p. 111) and the correction of a written document (Translatio et miracula
II.I3, p. 25 2 , 1. 46). See also Epp. 9, 44, 49, pp. 113, 13 2 , 134, and
Translatio et miracula 1. 10, p. 243, 1. 43.
19. Vita Karoli, praef., ed. Holder-Egger, pp. 1-2. For the vast bibliogra-
phy on Einhard and the vita Karoli, see Max Manitius, Geschichte der latein-
ischen Literatur des Mittelalters, vol. I (Munich, 191 I; reprint ed., 1974), pp.
639-46; J. Fleckenstein, "Einhard," in Lexicon des Mittelalters, 3: cols. 1737-
39; Philippe Depreux, "Eginhard," Prosopographie de l'entourage de Louis le
Pieux (781-84) (Sigmaringen, 1997), pp. 177-85. There is an excellent
summary of re cent thinking on the vita Karoli, and the intense controversy
surrounding its date, in Dutton, Charlemagne's Courti~ pp. xviii-xxiv.
20. Walahfrid Strabo, prologue to the vita Karoli, ed. Holder-Egger, p.
xxviii.
21. Annales Regni Francorum, a. 806, ed. Friedrich Kurze, MGH SSRG
(Hanover: Hahn, 1895), p. 121; Ermoldus Nigellus, In Honorem Hludowici,
11.682-97, ed. Edmond Faral, Ermold le noir, Poeme sur Louis le Pieux et
epitres au roi Pepin (Paris, 1964), p. 54.
22. Hrabanus Maurus, Epitaphium Einhardi, MGH PLAC II, pp. 237-38.
23. Einhard, Ep. 11, pp. 114-15.
24. Severe illness prevented hirn attending in the spring of 830 (Einhard,
Epp. 13, 14, 15, pp. I 16-18); the evidence does not permit us to say when
or whether he returned to Aachen.
25. Ep. 40, pp. 12 9-3.
26. On the reign of Louis the Pious, see Egon Boshof, Ludwig der Fromme
(Darmstadt, 1996) and Peter Godman and Roger Collins, eds., Charle-
2I6 SEEING AND BELIEVING
magne's Heir: New Perspectives on the Reign of Louis the Pious (Oxford,
I990).
27. Franz J. Felten, bte und Laienen'bte im Frankenreich (Stuttgart, I980),
pp. 283-86, for details of the lay abbacies.
28. Codex Laureshamensis I9, ed. Karl Glckner, 3 vols. (Darmstadt, I929-
36), I :299-300.
29. Ibid., 20, I:30I-2.
30. For a discussion of MarceHinus and Peter in the context of Einhard's
domestic and personallife, see my "Einhard: The Sinner and the Saints," in
Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, 6th ser., I3 (forthcoming, 2003).
3 I. Martin Heinzelmann, "Einhards Translatio Marcellini et Petri: Eine ha-
giographische Reformschrift von 830," in Einhard: Studien zu Leben und Werk, ed,
Hermann Schefers (Darmstadt, I997), p. 278. See also Marguerite Bondois, La
Translation des Saints Marcellin et Pierre: Etude sur Einhard et sa vie politique de 827
a 834 (Paris, I907); J Fleckenstein, "Einhard, seine Grndung und sein Ver-
mchtnis in Seligenstadt, " in his Ordnungen und formende Krfte des Mittelalters
(Gttingen, I989), pp. 84-I II; Dutton, Charlemagne's Courtier, pp. xxiv-xxxi.
32. Translatio et miracula I.I- I 5, pp. 239-45.
33. Cf. Josef Koch, 'Die Wirtschafts- und Rechtsverhltnisse der Abtei
Seligenstadt im Mittelalter," Archiv fr hessische Geschichte und Altertumskunde,
n.s. 22 (I94I): I-53; Waldemar Kther, "Seligenstadt, Mainz und das
Reich," Archiv fr mittelrheinische Kirchengeschichte 30 (I97 8): 9-57; Ingrid
Firner, Regesten zur Geschichte von Seligenstadt am Main: Kloster und Stadt vom
9. Jahrhundert bis zum Ende der Kurmainzer Herrschaft (Darmstadt, I999).
34. Franz Staab, "Heidentum und Christentum in der Germania prima
zwischen Antike und Mittelalter," in Zur Kontinuitt zwischen Antike und
Mittelalter im Oberrhein, ed. idem (Sigmaringen, I994), pp. I I7-52, with
fuH references to earlier literature.
35. Paul Fouracre, The Age of Charles Martel (Harlow, 2000), esp. pp.
I02-I4, I26-34 gives the political outline; H. Schulze, "Ostfranken und
Alemannien in der Politik des frnkischen Reiches," in Alemannien und
Ost/ranken im frhen Mittelalter, ed. F. Quarthai, Verffentlichungen des Ale-
mannischen Instituts Freiburg 48 (Bhl, I984), pp. I3-38, surveys theories
about the development of political organization; Robert Koch and Ursula
Koch, "Die frnkische Expansion ins Main- und Neckargebiet," in Die Fran-
ken: Wegbereiter Europas, Exhibition catalogue for the exhibition held at the
Reiss-Museum, Mannheim, I996-97, 2 vols. (Mainz, I996), I :270-84,
reviews the archaeological evidence for Frankish influence.
36. Koch and Koch, "Die frnkische Expansion," p. 273; Matthew Innes,
State and Society in the Early Middle Ages: The Middle Rhine valley, 400-IOOO
(Cambridge, 2000), pp. I57-59.
EMENDING EVIL W AYS 21 7
37. Matthias Werner, "Iren und Angelsachsen in Mitteldeutschland. Zur

vorbonifatianischen Mission in Hessen und Thringen," in Die Iren und
Europa im frheren Mittelalte", ed. Heinz Lwe, 2 vols. (Stuttgart, 1982),
1:239~318; Karl Heinemeyer, "Die Ausbreitung des Christentums und der
heilige Bonifatius," in Die Geschichte Hessens} ed. Uwe Schultz (Stuttgart,
1983), pp. 38-48 and the collected essays of Heinrich Bttner, Zur frhmit-
telalterlichen Reichsgeschichte an Rhein} Main und Necka", ed. Alois Gerlich
(Darmstadt, 1975).
38. Illustrated in Helmut Roth and Egon Wamers, Hessen im Frhmittel-
alter: Archologie und Kunst (Sigmaringen, 1984), nos. 182-83, 192-93, 200-
201, pp. 272-73, 279, 284-85, and see commentary pp. 31-3 2 , 47-54.
39. The inscription recording this is preserved in a transcript of 1582;
for the text see MGH SSRM V, p. 7 I I n. 4. Also Bttner, Zur frhmittel-
alterlichen Reichsgeschichte} p. 116.
40. Liber aureus Epternacensis 8, 26, ed. Camille Wampach, Geschichte der
Grundherrschaft Echternach im Frhmittelalter, 2 vols (Luxembourg, 195 I-52),
1:63-6 5.
41. WeIl emphasized by Nicole Zeddies, "Bonifatius und zwei ntzliche
Rebellen: Die Hretiker Aldebert und Clemens," in Ordnung und Aufruhr im
Mittelalter: Historische und juristische Studien zur Rebellion} ed. Marie Theres
Fgen (Frankfurt, 1995), pp. 217-63.
42. Reuter, '''Kirchenreform' und 'Kirchenpolitik,'" p. 41.
43. J. M. Wallace-Hadrill, The Frankish Church (Oxford, 1983), pp. 143-
61.
44. Ian Wood, The Missionary Lift: Saints and the Evangelisation of Europe}
400-I050 (Harlow, 2001).
45. Ibid., pp. 2-4 and passim, on a spectrum of paganisms and forms of
Christianization.
46. All aspects of this spectrum are deal' in Hrabanus's letters, MGH Epp
V, pp. 379-516.
47. Petra Kehl, Kult und Nachleben des heiligen Bonifatius im Mittelalter
(754-I200) (Fulda, 1993), pp. 43-47. Lorsch's liber miraculorum has been
lost: see the reference to it in the Lorsch fiber vitae (Codex Laureshamensis
1:282 n. 4) and fragmentary extracts in fifteenth-century legendaries from
Lorsch; Clemens Kttelwesch, Kataloge der Stadt- und Universit'tsbibliothek
Frankfurt am Main} 6 vols in 10 parts (Frankfurt, 1974-94), vol. 3, pt. 2,
pp. 9, 15 1 -5 2 .
48. Franz Staab, Untersuchungen zur Gesellschaft am Mittelrhein in der Karol-
ingerzeit (Wiesbaden, 1975); Alfred Friese, Studien zur Herrschaftsgeschichte des
fr'nkishen Adels: Der mainl'ndisch-thringische Raum vom 7. bis I I. Jahrhundert
(Stuttgart, 1979) pp. 51-83; Matthew Innes, "People, Places and Power in
2I8 SEEING AND BELIEVING
Carolingian Society," in Topographies 0/ Power in the Early Middle Ages} ed.

Mayke de Jong and Frans Theuws (Leiden, 200I), pp. 396-437; Innes, State
and Society} pp. I3-50.
49. Translatio et miracula I. I I, p. 244.
50. Ibid., LI, p. 239.
5 I. Although they were criss-crossed with roads, not least to reach the
quarries whose stone had built the Roman cities of the Rhine valley. Tho-
mas Ludwig, Otto Mller, and Irmgard Widdra-Spiess, Die Einhards-Basil-
ika in Steinbach bei Michelstadt im Odenwald} 2 vols. (Mainz, I996), I :2-4.
52. Bttner, Zur /rhmittelalterlichen Reichsgeschichte} p. I59, comments on
the earliest charter for the Odenwald. For Lorsch and internal colonization,
see Staab, Untersuchungen} pp. 3I4-3I; Hans-Jrgen Nitz, "The Church as
Colonist: The Benedictine Abbey of Lorsch and Planned Waldhufen Colo-
nization in the Odenwald," Journal 0/ Historical Geography 9 (I983): I05-
26. Chris Wickham, "European Forests in the Early Middle Ages: Landscape
and Land Clearance," Settimane di Studio sultAlto Medioevo 37 (I989): 5I6-
2 I, argues that the entire area was Carolingian /oresta.
53. In 8 I 5 Michelstadt had I4 servi plus wives and children and another
40 mancipia; in 8I9, IOO mancipia diversi sexus et aetatis (Codex Laureshamensis
I9, 20, I:300, 30I). The rapid population growth may well have been the
result of imported labor: cf. Einhard's Ep. 50 (MGH Epp. V, p. I34) on
acquiring mancipia from other landlords to work on his own estates.
54. Wickham, "European Forests," p. 520.
55. Codex Laureshamensis I9, I:300 .
56. Codex Laureshamesnsis 20, I :30I: " ... cum omnibus appenditiis et
terminis suis, et cum omnibus ad se pertinentibus, id est, basilicis,
domibus, ceterisque edificiis, terris, pratis, siluis . . . . " Which churches
this refers to is unclear. A further uncertainty is the reference in the
Annales Fuldenses antiquissimi a. 82 I to the "dedicatio ecclesiae Michlin-
stat in Otonwald"; Annales Fuldenses} ed. Friedrich Kurze, MGH SSRG
(Hanover, I89I), p. I38. This cannot have been the existing church,
which was not yet dedicated in 827, but might be the small single-
celled church of apparently early ninth-century date which underlay the
present parish church in Michelstadt, as described by Friedrich Oswald,
Leo Schaefer, and Hans Rudolf Sennhauser, Vorromanische Kirchenbauten:
Katalog der Denkmler bis zum Ausgang der Ottonen} 2 vols and suppl.
(Munich, I966-7I), 2:2I5-I6.
57. Dendrochronological dating of the timbers gives a date of 822-25
for the building of this basilica. Ludwig, Mller and Widdra-Spiess, Die
Einhards-Basilika} pp. I4-I6. When the relics arrived at the new basilica,
EMENDING EVIL WAYS 21 9
their bearers "velut ibi perpetuo permansuros deposuerunt." Translatio et

miracula, 1.8, p. 243.
58. Cf. my "Old Saints, New Cults: Roman Relics in Carolingian Fran-
cia," in Early Medieval Rome and the Christian West: Essays in Honour 0/ Donald
Buffough, ed. Julia M. H. Smith (leiden, 2000), pp. 317-39.
59. Translatio et miracula 1.9, p. 243.
60. Ibid., 1.10, p. 243.
61. Ibid., 1. I I, p. 244.
62. Ibid., 1.12, p. 244.
63. Ibid., 1.11, p. 244.
64. On the architectural dimension of Benedict of Aniane's monastic
reforms, see Werner Jacobsen, "Benedikt von Aniane und die Architektur
unter ludwig dem Frommen zwischen 814 und 830," in Ri/orma religiosa e
arti neff'epoca carolingia, ed. Alfred A. Schmid (Bologna, 1983), pp. 15-22;
idem, Der Klosterplan von St. Gaffen und die karolingische Architektur: Entwick-
lung und Wandel von Form und Bedeutung im fr'nkischen Kirchenbau zwischen
75 I und 840 (Berlin, 199 2 ), pp. 265-318.
65. Translatio et miracula LI, p. 239: "quendam locum secretum, a pop-
ulari frequentia valde remotum." This is a reworking of a common hagio-
graphie al topos.
66. Innes, "People, Places and Power," pp. 421-22.
67. The sequence of churches at Seligenstadt and their dating is unclear.
There was already a small stone church there when Einhard acquired Mulin-
heim in 815 ("basilicam parvo muro factarn": Codex Laureshamensis 19, 1:30),
and by 828 he had built a nova basilica a litde to the east (Translatio et
miracula IlI.7, p. 250), which was substantial enough to have included a
westwork (ibid., lIlA, p. 249: "contigit, ut quadam die, cum divina res
ageretur, et nos in superioribus eiusdem ecclesiae locis constituti super
subjectum atque in inferioribus constitutum populum intenderemus").
Neither of these is extant. They may underlie the sites of the other medieval
churches in the town but archaeological orthodoxy on their location has
recendy been overturned by fresh excavations. See the summary report of
Markus Grossbach, '''Habet basilica parva muro factam ... ': Ein Vorber-
icht zu den Grabungen 1994/95 am Alten Friedhof in Seligenstadt," Denk-
malpflege in Hessen I (1997): 36-38.
68. On the importance of visions throughout the Translatio et miracula,
and on the late antique precedents for saints' decisions about whither to be
moved, see Heinzelmann, "Einhards Translatio," pp. 280-8 I.
69. Twelfth-century lorsch tradition certainly regarded Einhard as hav-
ing abandoned it even though he retained usufruct until his death. Codex
Laureshamensis 141, I: 415.
70. Translatio et miraettla, 1.12-14, pp. 244-45.

7 I. Ibid" I. 14, p. 245
72. Ep. 10, p. 113.
73. William A. Christian Jr., Loeal Religion zn Sixteenth-Century Spain
(Prineeton, N.J., 1981), p. 102.
74. Translatio et miraeula I. 15, p. 245.
75. Janet 1. Nelson, "Aaehen as a Plaee of Power," in de Jong and
Theuws, Topographies 0/ Power, pp. 217-41, quoting Notker on p. 241 and
with translation of a eapitulary on the diseipline of the palaee, pp. 238-39.
On the oeeupations of Aaehen's inhabitants see also Translatio et miraeula
IV.I-4, pp. 256-57.
76. Translatio et miraeula II. I, p. 246.
77. Ibid., II.I-2, pp. 245-6. Cf. Patriek J. Geary, Furta Saera: Relie
The/ts in the Central Middle Ages, 2d ed. (Prineeton, N.J., 1990), pp. 44-49.
78. Translatio et miraeula IIA-5, p. 247. Mirades at Aaehen are also
reeounted at II'7 and IV.I-7, pp. 247, 256-58.
79. Ibid., II.6, p. 247
80. Ibid., IV.3, p. 257.
81. Ibid., IV.2, pp. 256-57: "ita eorreetus est ut qui manibus alienis
subveetus in oratorium venerat, propriis pedibus de oratorio proeederet."
82. Relies were sent to Valeneiennes at the request of George, abbot of
Saint-Saulve and also a eourt ehaplain. Ibid., IV.8-10, pp. 258-59. St.
Baaf's, Ghent, and St. Servaas, Maastrieht, were both abbeys of whieh Ein-
hard was lay abbot. At the latter, the relies of Mareellinus and Peter remain
on display in the treasury. Einhard also responded to arequest for reHes of
Mareellinus and Peter from Hetti, arehbishop of Trier; Einhard, Ep. 45, pp.
13 2-33.
83. Translatio et miraeula IV.8-14, pp. 258-62. On the sixth-eentury
evidenee for notarial reeords of mi rades , see Martin Heinzelmann, "Une
souree de base de la litterature hagiographique latine: Le reeueil de mira-
des," in Hagiographie, eultures et societes, pp. 235-59; see p. 240 on sixth-
eentury reeords at Tours with "le earaetere de proees-verbal."
84. Translatio et miraeula II.8-9, p. 247.
85. Ibid., III.19, p. 255.
86. As, for example, the deaf-mute girl from Bourges (eentral-southwest
Franee) whose father and brother led her from shrine to shrine in seareh of
a eure. Ibid., III. 5, p. 249.
87. Bat-Sheva Albert, Le peterinage a l'epoque earolingienne, Bibliotheque de
la Revue d'Histoire Eedesiastique 82 (Brussels, 1999); Hedwig Rekelein,
"Mirades and Horizontal Mobility in the Early Middle Ages: Some
Methodological Reflections," in The Community, the Family and the Saint:

Patterns 0/ Power in Early Medieval Europe, ed. Joyce HilI and Mary Swan
(Turnhout, 1998), pp. 181-97.
88. Translatio et miracula III.3, 15, 16,20, IV16, pp. 249,254,255-56,263.
89. Explicitly so in the case of Alberic, a native of Aquitaine, who was
brought to Mulinheim by grain merchants from Mainz; presumably so in the
case of the pilgrim from England en route for Rome who stopped off there.
Translatio et miracula IIIA, 6, pp. 249-50. Other miracules from the Rhine-
land area can be found in III.l, 9, 10, IV. 17, pp. 249, 25 1, 263.
90. Ibid., praef., p. 239. For the allusions to both Augustine and Grego-
ry of Tours in this, see Heinzelmann, "Einhards Translatio," pp. 293-94 nn.
137-3 8 .
91. Translatio et miracula IV.18, p. 264.
92. As for example in western Gaul. J ulia M. H. Smith, "Aedificatio sancti
loei: The Making of a Ninth-Century Holy Place," in de Jong and Theuws,
Topographies 0/ Power, pp. 361-96.
93. Pascasius Radbertus, Epitaphium Arsenii, II. I, ed. Ernst Dmmler,
Abhandlungen der kniglichen Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin, philoso-
phische und historische Klasse 2 (1900): 61. On the date, sourees, and purpose
of this difficult text, see David Ganz, "The Epitaphium Arsenii and Opposi-
tion to Louis the Pious," in Godman and Collins, Charlemagne's Heir, pp.
537-5 0 .
94. MGH Capit. II, nos. 187-88, pp. 7-10.
95. Epistola Generalis, MGH Conc. II, no. 50b, pp. 599-601. Quotations,
at pp. 599 and 600, are from the longer of the two versions of this letter,
the one included in the dossier of the Council of Paris. I am grateful to
Mayke de J ong for giving me access to her unpublished work on this and
related texts, from which I have profited.
96. For a succinct account see Wilfried Hartmann, Die Synoden der Karol-
ingerzeit im Frankenreich und in Italien (Paderborn, 1989), pp. 179-87.
97. MGH Conc. II, no. 50d, pp. 65-80.
98. As demonstrated by Bondois, La Translation, pp. 93-97, and Hein-
zelmann, "Einhards Translatio," pp. 289-90, 295-96. Since Wala's scedula of
828 is not extant, it is also possible that both the Paris version of the epistola
generalis and Einhard depend on it as their common source.
99. Heinzelmann, "Einhards Translatio," esp. pp. 289-97.
100. On Hilduin's career and writings, see W. Wattenbach and W. Levi-
son, Deutschlands Geschichtsquellen im Mittelalter: Vorzeit und Karolinger, vol. 3:
Die Karolinger vom Tode Karls des Grossen bis zum Vertrag von Verdun, rev. ed.
by Heinz Lwe (Weimar, 1957), pp. 319-21; Josef Fleckenstein, Die
Hofkapelle der deutschen Kijnige! pt. I: Grundlegung: Die karolingische Hofkapelle!

MGH Schriften 16/1 (Stuttgart, 1959), pp. 52-56; Depreux, Prosopographie!
no. 157, pp. 25 0- 6.
101. Smith, "Old Saints, New Cults," p. 323 and n. 70.
102. Einhard, Ep. 10, p. 113.
103. Epitaphium Arsenii! lI.I, ed. Dmmler, pp. 61-62, in the transla-
tion of Allen Cabannis, Charlemagne!s Cousins: Contemporary Lives of Adalard
and Wala (Syracuse, N.Y, 1967), p. 150.
104. Translatio et miracula 1lI.13, pp. 252-53.
105. Annales Fuldenses! a. 874, p. 82.
106. Above, p. 204.
107. The word play Wiggo-Hludowicus is pointed out by Boshof, Ludwig
der Fromme! p. 174. On Einhard's place within the Carolingian literature of
political dreams and visions, see Paul Edward Dutton, The Politics of Dream-
ing in the Carolingian Empire (Lincoln, Neb., 1994), pp. 91-100.
108. On Einhard's role in launching this new genre, see Heinzelmann,
"Une source de base," pp. 244-45.
109. For the vita Karoli as polemic see, on very different grounds, Mat-
thew Kempshall, "Some Ciceronian Models for Einhard's Life of Charle-
magne," Viator 26 (1995): 11-37, and Dutton, Politics of Dreaming! pp.
55-57
110. Heinzelmann, "Einhards Translatio," pp. 273-77, 297.
I I 1. This is the implication of Ep. 10, dated by Hampe to April 830.
112. Epp. 10, 33, 36. Dendrochronological dates of 833 and 835 confirm
that building work continued into the later 830s. Gunther Binding, Der
frh- und hoch mittelalterliche Bauherr als usapiens architectus!" 2d ed. (Darm-
stadt, 1998), p. 59.
I 13. For details, see Rotraut Wisskirchen, Das Mosaikprogramm von S.
Prassede in Rom: Ikonographie und Ikonologie! Jahrbuch fr Antike und Chris-
tentum, Ergngzungsband 17 (Mnster, 1990), pp. I 1-13; for the political
and cultural context of Paschal's building activities, see Thomas F. X. No-
ble, "Topography, Celebration and Power: The Making of a Papal Rome in
the Eighth and Ninth Centuries," in de Jong and Theuws, Topographies of
Power, pp. 45-91.
114. R. Krautheimer, W. Frankl, and S. Corbett, Corpus Basilicarum Chris-
tianarum Romae! 5 vols. (Vatican City, 1937-77), 3:235-62.
I 15. Ursula Nilgen, "Die grosse Reliquieninschrift von Santa Prassede:
Eine quellenkritische Untersuchung zur Zeno-Kapelle," Rmische Quartal-
schrift fr christliche Altertumskunde und Kirchengeschichte 69 (1974): 7-29.
I 16. Discussed in detail by Wisskirchen, Mosaikprogramm.
I I7. Marianne Wirenfeldt Asmussen, "The Chapel of St Zeno in S.

Prassede in Rome: New Aspects on the Iconography," Analecta Romana
Instituti Danici I5 (I988): 67-86; Gillian Mackie, "The Zeno Chapel: A
Prayer for Salvation," Papers 0/ the British School at Rome 57 (I989): I72-99.
I I8. Charles McClendon, The Imperial Abbey 0/ Far/a: Architectural Cur-
rents 0/ the Early Middle Ages (New Haven, Conn., I987), pp. 57-62.
I I9. In his seminal discussion of "The Carolingian Revival of Early
Christian Architecture," in his Studies in Early Christian, Medieval and Re-
naissance Art (New York, I969), pp. 203-56 (first published in Art Bulletin,
24 [I942}), Richard Krautheimer instead drew attention to the parallels
between Mulinheim and another ninth-century church in Rome, S. Stefano
degli Abessini. Textual evidence assigns this to the pontificate of Leo Irr
(795-8I6) but recent archaeological evidence attributes it instead to Leo IV
(847-55): Krautheimer et al. , Corpus Basilicarum, 4:I70-90. Whether or
not Ratleic could have seen this church remains unclear; I have therefore
omitted it from this discussion.
I20. On architecture as liturgical imitatio, see Werner Jacobsen, "Saints'
Tombs in Frankish Architecture," Speculum 72 (I997): I I42.
I2I. Lupus of Ferrieres, Ep. 60, ed. Marshall, pp. 66-67; Rudolf of
Fulda, Miracula Sanctorum in Fuldensis ecclesia translatorum, MGH SS XV/I, p.
329. J. Schopp, Der Name Seligenstadt (Speyer, I964), pp. I I-34.
I22. Ep. 53, p. I3 6 .
I23. Otto Mller, "Kurze Beschreibung der Einhardsbasilika in Seligen-
stadt," Archiv fr hessische Geschichte und Altertumskunde, n.s. 36 (1978): 87-
II6. The new high altar was consecrated in I253 after remodeling of the
entire east end of the church. The wo rn steps which were sealed off then are
noted by Hermann Schefers, "Einhards rmische Reliquien," ibid., n.s. 48
(I990): 288.
I24. Geschichte der lateinischen Literatur, I :644.
I25. Cf. Simon Ditchfield, "'In Search of Local Knowledge": Rewriting
Early Modern Italian Religious History," Cristianesimo nella Storia I9 (I998):
255-9 6 .
I26. Cf. note I.
8
ASPECTS OF CONVERSION FROM ANTONINUS PlUS TO
LOUIS THE PIOUS
NEIL McLYNN
To the distress of their duly anointed shepherds, the Christian congrega-

tions of late antiquity remained stubbornly reluctant to be domesticated.
When a preacher like Gregory Nazianzen invoked his "resplendent and
unblemished flock, worthy of the fold above," he knew that in fact he faced
an intractably diverse assemblage: "a beast made out of many creatures,
with many forms and shapes, large and small, tarne and wild."l However
frequently Christian spokesmen might invoke the solidarity of the faithful,
their lyrical appeals were as misleading as the brief appearance, each Easter,
of a fresh phalanx of white-robed neophytes. The people of God could be
instantiated only fleetingly. Susanna Elm offers a glimpse of pastoral reality
when she shows Gregory hectoring the Christians of Constantinople to
receive baptism, and to do so without regard to the distinction of those
either administering the sacrament or sharing the font (pp. 21-22): his
plaintive tone betrays how far he, or any other church leader of late antiq-
uity, was from being able to impose his own view of what it meant to
become a Christian.
In this volume, moreover, Elm's Gregory meets as diverse an assemblage
as ever crowded the nave of Holy Wisdom. Here an emperor rubs shoulders
with ordinary (and obstinately heterogeneous) family groups on the lookout
for prime burial plots; ambitious intellectuals inhale the perfumes of ac-
tresses; peasants from the banks of the Main stand beside volatile tribesmen
from eastern Anatolia. The commentator, therefore, can no more hope to
impose uniformity on his texts than could the bishop on his congregation;
here, as in the cathedral, any uniformity that might be discovered will be
the fruit more of wishful rhetorical artifice than of direct engagement.
What emerges above all from these papers is instead a sense of the limits of
any prescriptive Christianity.
224
SEEING AND BELIEVING 225
In the seven hundred years between Justin's teaching career and the
composition of The Translation 0/ Peter and Marcellinus J the framework with-
in which Christians expressed their commitment to the faith changed dra-
matically. Where Rebecca Lyman shows Justin's Rome crackling with the
multiple interactions of charged particles, for Julia Smith's equally compet-
itive Einhard Christian authority congeals around specific nodes. But de-
spite all the changes to the rules, the game remains recognizably the same.
Converts (or those effecting conversions) retain their room for maneuver:
there is no monolithic "church" (still less a monolithic Christian state) able
to dictate to its new members the exact terms of their faith. Conversion
continued to me an different things to different converts, just as it does to
our contributors, who have sought their indices of Christianization every-
where from imperial statutes to imperial statues, from theories of baptism
to burial practices, from ancient ethnographie vocabulary to modern post-
colonial discourse. When A. D. Nock published his classic study of conver-
si on in 1933, he could treat "Christianity" as a given: here it sits squarely
at the center of the problem.
A question central to this volume thus concerns religious authority, the
degree to which conversions could be controlled. Elm's Gregory is merely
the most obvious case of a Christian leader proclaiming normative state-
ments without any realistic means of enforcing them. When Eric Rebillard
discusses Cyprian's outraged denunciation of the party-going habits of a
Spanish churchman, or Richard Lim the legislation designed to restriet the
baptism of stage performers, they raise similar questions; even Michael
Maas's Justinian, in legislating for Armenia, is merely "imposing the impe-
rial fantasy of bringing civilization and God's order" (p. 170). The bucca-
neering free market in which Smith's Einhard acquires and disposes of his
relics shows how far either papal Rome or the court of Aachen were from
being controlled environments. Time and again in these essays, the solid
structures of Christian church and Christian state dissolve beneath detailed
scrutiny. We have here seven different experiments conceived along seven
rather different lines, conducted at various points along the grand narrative
(which, although routinely disavowed by modern scholars, has still not been
definitively displaced in the scholarly, let alone the popular imagination) of
the "Rise of Christianity." Each time, a piece of familiar territory is ren-
dered somehow strange, and possible new trajectories begin to emerge.
For if the only constant among our converts is their incorrigible diversity,
the principal similarity between the conversions on offer he re is that they
are analyzed not as mental events-the decisive inner reorientations at the
he art of Nock's classic treatment-but as social processes. Whether it in-
volves Justin measuring hirnself against the other intellectuals, Christian
and otherwise, of Rome, or Einhard's discreet hardball at the Carolingian '

court, Christian commitment is something to be negotiated. And two as-
pects of these negotiations in particular seem to merit fuller investigation.
First, the alertness of the contributors to the nuances of the texts in which
conversions are either described (whether in Jacob's account of Pelagia, or
Procopius's of the Tzani) or solicited (directly in Gregory's sermons, indi-
rectly in Einhard's treatise) invite further questions about the respective
authorial strategies and audience responses; we might also pursue the ques-
ti on of how these "conversion texts" might have changed their meaning
once in circulation, as they were detached from their original contexts. The
second key point is the extent to which the encounters under discussion
were publicly observable. In these papers our attention is constantly drawn
to the impact of such things as graveside commemorations or the clattering
pomp of an actress's retinue, to the commissioning of sculpture or the
framing of legislation; even the mystery of baptism is made physical. And
this focus upon the concrete, I believe, helps make newly intelligible the
bridges that our converts were able to create, for themselves and for others,
from the secular to the spiritual. .
Late antique society, rather than any ecclesiastical institution, structures
the conversion processes discussed here. Our texts are the property not of
the church but of readers who bring diverse concerns to bear on them, and
our converts remain under the scrutiny of their peers: graveside mourners
conduct their observances under the gaze of different communities, while
retired actresses effectively remain on stage, obliged to act out their com-
mitment to Christianity. My own contribution, in what follows, will be to
carry this scrutiny one stage further, by exploring in more detail both the
relevant "texts" (which include inscribed tombstones, statues, and church
buildings), and the social-and political-tensions that were operative in
the background. To establish a sense of perspective I have arranged our
diverse contributors (much as Gregory sought to do with his baptismal
candidates) into unmatched pairs, and in each case shall play one against the
other. The aim is not to conjure an implausible synthesis, but to identify
common themes; to bring into the open ideas and arguments that have been
left implicit; and to sketch some further lines of inquiry.
THE DEVIL'S POMP: FUNERALS AND GAMES
Richard Lim and Eric Rebillard both remind us that we are still very much
in the ancient city. The Christian congregation in the cathedral was but one
of several overlapping assemblages: many of the same individuals would
come together again, seated differendy and with an admixture of different

company, at the circus and theater; they would reconvene, ordered different-
ly yet again, in death (and at the commemoration of one another's deaths)
in the cemetery. Both these papers illustrate starkly the limited reach of the
ancient church, and bring horne just how much of the life of the late
antique city remained beyond its grasp-and for how long. Entertainment
and death, perhaps, were simply too important to be entrusted to the church:
so the former remained the preserve of the state, the latter of the family.
And this must affect our understanding of what it meant to become a
Christian: the convert's experience was still, even in the fourth and fifth
centuries, defined as much by the lack of resources of the organization he
was joining as by the facilities it provided.
Pompa scaenica and pompa /unebris both provided especially visible chal-
lenges for a religion which made universal claims but could not replace the
structures of everyday life-or everyday death. And what emerges with
particular clarity from Rebillard's and Lim's accounts is the mixture of
bluster and patient tact with which Christian leaders responded to the
challenge. The cemetery, like the household, remained beyond institutional
control; and Rebillard's survey invites us to contemplate the succession of
individual deals between families and /ossores through which the burial
grounds were filled. In doing so we can make sense of the jumbled iconog-
raphy of, for example, the Via Latina catacomb: here is a scene of vigorous
private enterprise, where market forces triumph over ideology.2 But perhaps
we should go further, building upon Rebillard's paper to scrutinize more
closely the daunting impression of posthumous solidarity that the Christian
catacombs of Rome still present. We might usefully ask how much weight
should be put upon the blander formulae of Christian epigraphy or the
conventions of "Christian" art: there is litde to suggest that the conditions
for admission to a Christian loculus were as stringent as were those to the
Christian font. Rebillard's emphasis on the family (or /amilia) deserves par-
ticular attention here. For whatever the intentions of an individual, any
initial clarity ab out his funerary dispositions could quickly bl ur as the
survivors asserted their interests. The dead hand of a M. Antonius Restitu-
tus, for example, could only extend so far: the inscription discussed by
Rebillard (p. 72) may well have created the same problems of interpretation
for immediate posterity as it has for modern scholars, but with more prac-
tical issues at stake, as dependents seeking burial at the site pressed for a
more restrictive or a looser reading of the Latin. Rebillard's examples intro-
duce the crucial distinction between the act of burial and the subsequent
use of the same burial site: the inscription of Severianus at Cherchel thus
seems to show the local church putting its stamp upon what had originally
been a private venture (p. 72). We are confronted here with the fluctuations
of the funerary market. Rebillard's previous work has brought horne the
unsystematic and uneven process by which the rituals of death were brought
within the scope of Christian pastoral care;3 his present paper invites us to
take the measure of those parts of the Christian cemetery where these com-
peting clerical voices did not reach.
The prospects for such an investigation might best be illustrated by
adding a further case study to Rebillard's list, from the catacombs of Rome.
A convenient subject for such an analysis is the Via Labicana cemetery three
miles southeast of the city: a complex site, but one to which modern archae-
ological techniques have been applied by ] ean Guyon in his exemplary
survey.4 But where Guyon continues to frame his historical analysis within
Christianizing assumptions, we might seek less rigid categorization. Rather
than looking for a specific "community" within the Roman church that the
cemetery might have served, for example, we might think more gene rally of
a service being provided to interested parties within a catchment area. 5
Rebillard's interpretation of the case of Bishop Martialis, in terms of the
returns available from a long-term investment in a funerary collegium (p.
70), invites us to consider the converse attractions, for families thinking
ahead, of the facilities provided by Christians. No more commitment need
be implied in such a preference than in Martialis's choice on behalf of his
son. At Via Labicana, the persistence of informal arrangements is apparent
in the tradition concerning the interment of the martyrs Peter and Marcel-
linus, two clergymen who secured their berths through the good offices of
a pious sponsor, Lucilla. 6 The more that "Christian" burials depended upon
such private initiatives, the more the facilities will have appealed to pious
non -Chris tians.
Such a perspective will allow reconsideration of the two successive fourth-
century "conversions" of the city of Rome, by a Christian emperor and by
the Roman popes, as these are reflected at the Via Labicana cemetery. So on
after the Christian God had granted hirn his victory over Maxentius, Con-
stantine authorized the construction of a huge basilica on an adjacent plot,
the graveyard for his defeated rival's troop of bodyguards. 7 This basilica
(like Constantine's other grand extramural projects) is in fact a vast enclosed
burial site, offering simple but presumably prestigious grave plots, and
attractive facilities for family members who would come to tend these. 8
Rather than serving the existing catacomb complex, however, this lavish
structure would completely redefine it. There was no attempt to incorporate
Peter and Marcellinus's remains into the basilica, and graves within the
building were more obviously aligned with the great imperial mausoleum
attached to the east end, which would house the empress Helena. But the
magnificent pomp with which Helena's remains were installed would last
but a single day; and the lavish provision of liturgical vessels for the basilica
implies occasional spectacle rather than a constant routine. 9 The function of
this basilica (and the others which Constantine built around Rome) would
be determined, during the fourth century, neither by the emperor's inten-
tions nor by the rituals conducted at the site by Roman clergymen, but by
the aggregate of the funeral arrangements, and the arrangements for post-
humous commemoration, made for the hundreds of individuals interred
there. No doubt most (and perhaps all) users of the basilica would have
called themselves Christians, but they remained free to choose the most
appropriate means of relating their religious faith to their family piety.
Inside the basilica a familiar collective conversion narrative thus breaks
down into a multiplicity of elusive microhistories; only when the basilica
was no longer a focus for family business (and as children gave way to
grandchildren, the ties of graveside duty would doubtless weaken) could
officiating clergy claim it definitively for the church of Rome.
Beneath Constantine's basilica, meanwhile, the catacombs remained in
use;lO one can only wonder about the effect of the new building upon the
price of underground loculi. But Rebillard's paper also suggests the basis for
areinterpretation of the key fourth-century development in this part of the
site, the creation of a martyr sanctuary at the tombs of Peter and Marcelli-
nus. Recent excavation allows a detailed reconstruction of the successive
enlargements of the cubiculttm where the martyrs were housed: it might
nevertheless be premature to describe the effect as a straightforward conver-
sion from a private space to a public place, or to explain the change by
reference to the pressure from increased pilgrim trafficY Other users of the
facilities, he re as at other catacombs, will instead have seen a (probably
gradual) extension of the martyrs' families. Prominent among their adoptive
children were groups of students from abroad, pious young men separated
from their own kin and therefore free to create their own imaginative lin-
eages; they made the places their own, reveling in the (to them) sinister
anonymity of the dark tunnels. 12 The remodeling of the catacomb, so that
by the mid-fourth century all major routes led to the martyrs, leaves little
room for doubt that such attentions were encouraged. Nevertheless, even if
those tending family graves also began to include the martyrs in their
commemorative visits, they remained free to use them as they wished-and
to subordinate them to their own business. 13
Nor would the si te and its function be changed fundamentally by the
most celebrated impresario of the martyr cult in fourth-century Rome, Pope
Damasus. 14 The sheer scope of Damasus's interventions-he left his imprint
upon eighteen separate extramural sites, and contributed four memorial
tablets to the Via Labicana catacomb alone 15 -has seemed to imply a grand,
coherent vision: Damasus has thus been given credit for an intention "to
physically uni te the sites beyond the walls into an almost unirary Christian
hinterland of Rome."16 But it is misleading simply to plot the pope's initi-
atives upon a blank map; to appreciate their impact at ground level, we
need to think in terms of individual sites, and take into account their other
users. At Via Labicana, as elsewhere, Damasus's main contribution was
decorative. He faced the crypt with marble, crowning it (as was his trade-
mark) wirh a beautifully carved verse inscription, which both advertised the
martyrs and explained his own personal connection with themY Once again,
we must draw a distinction between an initial impact and subsequent use.
The ceremony when this renovated chamber was opened, presumably in the
papal presence, would have had much of the solemniry of an inventio} a
formal discovery of martyrs' relics. But there is no reason to suppose that
the whole cemetery was immediately and irrevocably reoriented around the
martyrs. Our prevailing view of the cult of the martyrs is unabashedly
impressionistic: but only on a few days each year did the Christian city
"move from its address," and then only to a few especially favored shrines. 18
Nor were Peter and Marcellinus of this select company. While their anni-
versaries will doubtless have received increased emphasis and more formal
commemoration through the mensa that Damasus had (probably) installed
adjacent to the two graves, this only brought them into line with the
better-appointed chambers elsewhere in the cemetery, where such tables
were a long-established part of the furniture. 19 Once the papal cavalcade had
moved on, that is, familiar routines would reassert themselves. Damasus
could no more impose his martyrs than could Constantine his mother: the
pace for the eventual transformation of the complex was set not by popes or
emperors, but by the fossores. If martyr cults are to be measured by the
density of burials ad sanctos} Peter and Marcellinus must be counted as late
developers. Although few of the two dozen burials crammed into the cham-
ber are dated, all these (which cannot by their placement have been the
latest) are dated to the fifth century; it was then, too, that burial elsewhere
in the catacomb seems to have ceased. 20
Such considerations suggest that we might modify Peter Brown's famous
characterization of the rise of the cult of the martyrs in the West as an
exuberant response to a crisis of ecclesiastical surplus which compelled the
Western bishops "to invent new ways of spending money."21 Instead, we
might see the bishops juggling scarce resources to maintain apresence,
treading gingerly through territories that they knew they could neither
afford to disown nor hope fully to control. In doing so we might also
reconsider such famous episodes as the fourth-century incident at Milan,
when a porter in the service of the church prevented an African widow from
following her usual custom of taking grave offerings to the local martyrsY
This is conventionally interpreted as the routine application of a powerful
bishop's decree. But out-of-towners would be particularly susceptible to
episcopal direction-especially in cases like this, where the bishop offered
them a place instead in his own, approved services. Local matrons will have
taken much less readily to any interruption of their accustomed rounds of
the cemeteries, which combined observances at family graves with atten-
tions to others among the deserving departed. So although Ambrose's atten-
tions towards Monica would surprise her son, the bi shop had asound
appreciation of her value. Certainly, those with no personal stake in Milan's
sacred history would be most likely to accept Ambtose's sanitized version of
it. We should in any case envisage the episcopal takeover of the cemeteries,
at both Rome and Milan-and at places like Cherchel as well-as an incre-
mental process. The churches established their ascendancy as the collegia had
once established theirs, by combining a perceived ability to provide an
appropriate send-off for. the departed and a proven record of posthumous
aftercare.
Demography was on the bishops' side. The tombs they identified as
authentically sanctified inevitably became more conspicuous, as fewer fam-
ily members were left to tend the adjacent ones. The Lift 0/ Pelagial as
discussed by Richard Lim, shows the eventual impact upon the suburbs of
episcopal initiatives to celebrate the saints. For this story begins in a cem-
etery: the bishop of Antioch had lodged Nonnus and his colleagues in a
tomb complex, three miles from the city, which had become a monumental
mansio with accommodation suitable not only for eight bishops and their
retinues but also (as a later source shows) for imperial ambassadors. 23 The
gates provided a grandstand view of passersby: a group of bishops could
hardly have hoped otherwise for a legitimate opportunity to inspect an
actress and her entourage in all their pomp.
The Lift 0/ Pelagia is a text best read as a wish-fulfillment fantasy. Having
found material for an impromptu sermon (and a bout of paradoxical self-
criticism) even in a passing show of sinful beauty, abishop then preaches in
a more formal setting and inspires a spontaneous and spectacular conver-
sion. But the story allows us to sense the constraints of fantasy. While Lim's
interest is in Pelagia as an actress, the text is insistent upon reducing her to
a prostit,ute. Even when the good citizens of Antioch (in the Syriac version
of the tale) fall to gossiping about the groaning sinner they think of her
misdeeds in the boudoir, not upon the stage. 24 In other words, this is not
presented as a "civic" episode at all. Nonnus does not rob the city of its
legitimate pleasures, but merely frees its debauchees from temptation. And
even so, initiative is taken by an outsider, not the local bishop-such was
the instinctive resistance, perhaps, to episcopal interference in the entertain-
ment industry. Moreover, Nonnus's initial homily is purely for the edifica-
tion of his fellow dergymen; and even in the cathedral, there is no direct
appeal to the actress to abandon her profession. Nor again is Pelagia's'
baptism integrated into the liturgical rhythms of the cathedral: nothing
suggests that it occurred in parallel with the customary Easter initiations,
and unlike other famous converts like Augustine at Milan or Marius Vic-
torinus at Rome she is never presented to the local community. And after
the customary seven days in her baptismal robes, she disappears from view
entirely. While the reader sees her in three different costumes in the story,
the people of Antioch witnessed only her sinful splendor. The only aspect of
Pelagia's story that relates to the workaday world of theatrical conversions
so expertly analyzed by Lim is the recruitment of a deaconess to stand
surety for her: 25 but here again, this sponsorship is explained as a require-
ment not of imperial legislation but of canon law. The church instinctively
saved face; the dergy were so accustomed to living by the state's rules that
they could pretend that they had made them themselves.
lohn Chrysostom, in his sermon Against the Games and Theater (p. 102),
likewise knew better than to stake his prestige on a prohibition that he
could not enforce. Instead, he quietly shifts tack during the speech. Having
addressed himself initially to a particular offender- "When you sit high up
[in the theater] where there is so much inducement to unseemliness, and see
a whore make her entrance bareheaded, with much shamelessness, dressed
in golden garments . . . do you dare to say that you feel no human re-
sponse?"-by the dose (in the passage quoted by Lim) he has moved from
the miscreants to their enablers. When banning theatergoers from the sac-
raments he leaves the enforcement of the ban to their hapless neighbors,
who are to pass censure and snub them socially until they me nd their ways.
lohn thus applied moral pressure upon a congregation already committed to
his cause, visibly "groaning and cast down" by his severity. He made all his
own supporters accomplices after the fact in the crimes of the wicked. Ir
was thus the former who wilted beneath his famously searching gaze. 26 The
technique worked brilliantly as long as the villains themselves remained
safely out of reach: while lohn could not remove the Christians from the
Antiochene theater, he could bring the theater compellingly into his church.
Only rarely would real-life bishops come into direct contact with the
real-life stage. The legislation on the rights and duties of "converted" ac-
tresses (pp. 88-90) indicates that the dergy were occasionally called upon
to give testimonials, implicating themselves in difficult and delicate deci-
sions. Cod. Theod 15.7. I (addressed to a prefect of Rome during the episco-
SEEING AND B ELIEVING 233
pate of Damasus) provides for a complex procedure whereby episcopal ap-

proval is the first step, to be followed by an inspection by the state; the
bishop must also have been involved in carrying out the inspections provid-
ed for in the subsequent laws which link the authenticity of conversion to
satisfactory conduct: the actress must prove herself "respectable" (15.7.2),
maintain her "better way of living" (15.7 -4), and avoid being caught "be-
traying the religion which she had sought" (15.7.8). A striking feature of
these laws is the imprecision of their terms: as Lim notes, not even baptism
put an actress safely beyond reach of her past, and the combined authority
of governor and bishop would suffice to seal her fate. Pelagia was perhaps
well advised to remain out of sight during her conversion.
That collusion between bishops and magistrates might readily be sus-
pected is clear from the provision, in cases of wrongful conscription to the
stage, that bishops as well as magistrates should be liable for fines (p. 90).
One can perhaps sympathize, however, with abishop who was faced with
such a convert. He earned great renown by conquering such conspicuous
sin, but in claiming his victory he was saddling hirnself with an anxious
responsibility for a vessel whose frailty was a given. Like Nonnus's Pelagia,
the ideal case would therefore be where the momentary glory of conversion
was followed by convenient disappearance. Chrysostom's treatment, in his
sermons on Matthew, of Pelagia's (probable) real-life exemplar, further illus-
trates the point. 27 He says much ab out her sin and little about her later
sanctity. He also recalls that in this case the state did make an attempt to
prevent her retirement; she was defended from the governor and his soldiers
not by the bishop and people, but "the virgins who had received her." Only
after the secular authorities had acknowledged defeat did she receive bap-
tism, her cue for disappearance into ascetic obscurity.
Another law mentioned by Lim brings horne another important point:
the state was also seriously underresourced. A prefect of Rome was charged
with preventing the abduction of actresses for performance "either in hornes
or in other cities."28 For this magistrate was responsible for maintaining the
city's dauntingly complex entertainment industry: the scale of his task is
indicated by the intervention of another urban prefect, only three years after
this law, to protect "even the attendants of female mimes, as well as three
thousand dancers and their choreographers," from deportation during a
famine. 29 The most obvious culprits for the kidnappings, moreover, are the
prefect's fellow senators, who were locked into a cycle of permanent compe-
tition that encouraged them to advertise their exclusive claims upon celeb-
rities. In the same way that they would scour the empire for racehorses and
barbarian combatants for their sons' games, they would be on the lookout
for glamorous women; and it would serve them well even in "off" years,
when not sponsoring shows themselves, to demonstrate their ability to

match the clout of the current magistrates by offering performances to their
clients in other Italian cities, or to their guests in their own homes-which
were of course not "private" in any easily recognizable sense. This competi-
tion would prompt scenes that disgusted the sober historian Ammianus
Marcellinus, as senators fawned eagerly upon newly arrived courtesans-
even the most leathery old bawds; given the ready identification between
the two professions, this should be explained in terms of their competition
to secure the favor of new theatrical talent. 30 Senators' associations with
actresses might thus recall their dealings with charioteers, which Ammi-
anus also took to symbolize the moral failure of the aristocracy. However,
senators in more modern republics have also found themselves debased by
the company that the demands of permanent campaigning compel them to
keep.
Lim's case studies might therefore help to illustrate what might be de-
scribed as the "seamy side" of that much-discussed phenomenon, the Con-
version of the Roman Aristocracy.31 For although the motives that led
actresses-and charioteers, for that matter 32-to seek refuge in the Chris-
tian church were in many cases different from the motives bringing senators
to Christianity, conversions at one level will surely have conditioned those
at others; and in this complex social relations hip , religious change was not
necessarily driven entirely from the top. And in any case, a church looking
to accommodate aristocratic adherents had also to accommodate their cli-
ents. This created ample scope for innuendo, ranging from Gregory Nazian-
zen's satirical swipe at a well-born bishop who "only yesterday" had been
"in the midst of mimes and theaters," to Palladius's blistering portrait of
Porphyry of Antioch, the boon companion of magicians, charioteers, and
mime artists. 33
Some of the most lurid associations on re cord cluster around the great
impresario of the Christian saints, Pope Damasus. Friends and enemies alike
show hirn at horne among the aristocracy, the master of easy banter with
pagan grandees, and the plausible "ear-tickler of the matrons";34 but he also
appears in less savory company. Where Ammianus saw merely an eruption
of inherent Christian savagery in the bloody episodes that attended the
pope's installation in 366, the supporters of his defeated riyal Ursinus-in
/
a pamphlet more valuable for its skillfully organized polemic than as a
source of objective information-identified a more sinister coalition. 35 They
report three separate attacks launched by Damasus during the election cam-
paign and in its immediate aftermath, each time in slightly different com-
pany. First he stirs up "all the charioteers" and the multitude, and enjoys a
three-day rampage in the Basilica of Julius; a week later with "all the oath-
breakers and the gladiators," whom he corrupted "for a huge price," he

seizes the Lateran (clubs again being the weapon of choice); finally, with his
desperado clique he invites the gladiators, charioteers, and /ossores-and all
the clergy-to launch an assault "with axes, swords and clubs" on the
Basilica of Liberius. 36
Here, as in the Life 0/ Pelagial we see the workings of the Christian
imagination. This is a "Black Damasus": an all-powerful antipope (who as
the grammatical subject is put squarely at the scene of each successive
crime) using his enormous wealth to mobilize gravediggers and entertainers
to enforce the "conversion" of an innocent but ignorant city; the narrative
meanwhile celebrates the obstinate deafness to his message (even when this
was driven horne by the combined musculature of the funerary and enter-
tainment industries) of the genuine Christian people. The text ends with a
further massacre, in a suburban cemetery: the U rsinians had gathered, wi th-
out any presiding clergy, at the tomb of Saint Agnes (in a complex that had
been equipped, like that at Via Labicana, with a vast basilica and an impe-
rial mausoleum) when the pope again unleashed his hoodlums. 37 Damasus
would eventually honor Agnes, like Peter and Marcellinus, with a beauti-
fully carved versified plaque. 38 But the impression this gives of serene papal
preeminence at the site is almost certainly mistaken. There is no reason to
suppose that the Ursinians ceased their assemblies there; instead, their prayers
would merge with those of the countless small groups conducting their own
pious observances at family graves. We need to take seriously the quiet hum
of such devotions: few bishops in late antiquity had the means to amplify
their voices sufficiently to be sure of being heard above it.
]USTIN MARTYR AND GREGORY NAZIANZEN:

Two PHILOSOPHICAL EVANGELISTS AND THEIR
CONSTITUENCIES
Our second pair, Rebecca Lyman's Justin and Susanna Elm's Gregory, both
left accounts of their own "conversion" experiences; and both again suggest
the limited reach of the formal ecclesiastical structures of the Christian
church. Justin's celebrated description of his seaside encounter with a mys-
terious sage concludes with a newfound "passion for the prophets and for
the friends of Christ," not with the baptismal font;39 similarly, baptism is
the most conspicuous lacuna in Gregory's otherwise comprehensive record-
ing of his Christian career in his verse autobiography, De Vita Sua. 40 In
neither case, perhaps, is the omission accidental. For both these men were
intellectuals, their conception of their Christian identity individual rather
than institutional. And although much had changed in the two centuries
between them, the approach that Lyman employs to analyze Justin can
usefully be applied to Gregory also. The latter's younger contemporary
Augustine has provided a model of conversion that is, perhaps, doubly
misleading: so captivating are the idiosyncrasies of the Confessions that we
easily forget that this is the work of abishop. The direct path that Augus-
tine follows, from acceptance of Christianity to the baptismal font and the
embrace of the Catholic church, reflects the author's own perspective at the
time of writing; a quite different trajectory is suggested by the works that
the newly converted rhetorician had produced the autumn before his bap-
tism, at Cassiciacum. 41 Gregory, on the other hand, constructed his own
autobiography partly to argue that he was not abishop (not the bishop of
Nazianzus, at any rate), and partly also to suggest that most of the current
episcopate were impostors. In his account of his decisive commitment to a
Christian life he is therefore much doser to the Augustine of Cassiciacum
than to the Augustine of the Confessions. At the critical moment he sum-
mons a council of friends, to weigh up in their company the respective
benefits of practical e9gagement and contemplative withdrawa1. 42 This is a
frankly homemade Christianity, a recipe devised publidy and specifically
designed to maintain a safe distance from the church. Gregory attributes
the initial modification, and ultimate frustration, of this plan to the con-
straints of filial obligations43-it was not only in funerary arrangements
that family ties counted. Gregory's autobiography also reinforces another
point raised earlier. The arresting image with which he doses, of the false
bishops strutting vaingloriously to celebrate their victory over hirn, is typ-
ical of the rhetoric that has encouraged modern scholars, as Elm remarks, to
write hirn off as an ineffectual victim. But it was dearly in Gregory's
interest to play up the strength and cohesion of his enemies: like Damasus
for the Ursinians, the bishops made a convenient collection of monsters.
Our heavily episcopocentric view of late antique Christianity has been shaped
by an accidental conspiracy between the bishops' own propaganda and their
demonization by their enemies.
But Justin and Gregory are important less as converts than for the con-
vers ions that they themselves effected. Once again, comparison reveals some
unexpected similarities between their working conditions. Lyman's presen-
tation of Justin as a combative colonial intellectual applies also to Gregory,
who was also (for two crucial years) an immigrant freelancer in the fiercely
competitive environment of an imperial capita1. 44 Even doser to Justin's
model, down to his philosopher's robes, was Gregory's sometime ally Max-
imus of Alexandria, the Christian Cynic: and Maximus's alleged treachery
(in putting hirnself forward for promotion at Gregory's expense) in turn
recalls the blame for Justin's arrest heaped by posterity upon Crescens the
Cynic philosopher. 45 Much ab out the Maximus episode becomes clear if we
follow Lyman's lead and treat Gregory during his career at Constantinople
as a "cultural work in progress"; although there was now a cathedral and a
state apparatus to lend shape and substance to ideas of orthodoxy, we under-
estimate both Gregory and the cultural complexity of his environment if we
reduce hirn to these points of reference. For he successfully created his own
world. Much like Justin in his bathhouse lodgings, Gregory operated in a
private house, and relied on his own charisma to endow the site with religiosity;
he too was held accountable before the city authorities for his behavior there. 46
Nor was this just an interlude. As we shall see, Gregory seems to have main-
tained the same tone even after he was installed in the cathedral.
In gauging the impact of Justin and Gregory-and both Lyman and Elm
raise the question of their "success" or "failure" (pp. 5, 4I)-we must
distinguish between the direct impact of the men and the more diffuse
influence of their books. Justin's teaching is especially difficult to assess.
Anyone who wished, he professed, could come to his horne and hear hirn
speak the "words of truth"; but the Acts of his martyrdom do not see m to
reveal a body of disciples. Only one of the six co-defendants, one Euelpistus,
speaks of his relations hip with Justin: and Euelpistus says that he gladly
listened to Justin's words, but had received his Christianity from his parents
in CappadociaY Justin's most famous (alleged) pupil, Tatian, in fact claims
to have been converted solely by books. 48 The sole direct evidence for Tatian's
relationship with Justin, moreover, is a single passage of the Oration to the
GreeksJ where he recalls how the false philosopher Crescens betrayed his fear
of death by scheming to entrap "Justin just as he did me."49 Although
scholars have treated this merely as happy confirrnation of Justin's own
enigmatic reference to Crescens, Tatian inserts the passage only a few lines
after he has appealed to Justin's authority (his only other reference to hirn): in
doing this, Tatian-who like Justin was an ambitious freelance writer, launeh-
ing a book into a narrow circle-was arguably using information familiar to
readers of the Apology in order to claim an association with its sainted
author. Justin, that is, was already defined by his texts. And when Irenaeus
subsequently distinguishes an "orthodox" Tatian, writing under Justin's
tutelage, from the swollen-headed heretic who emerged after his teacher's
death, he is applying much the same schematism that Lyman sees in mod-
ern scholarship.50 Eusebius, in turn, would read Justin through Irenaeus. 51
And despite his claim that these citations from Irenaeus should send readers
back to Justin's original text, Eusebius's presentation shows that the process
Lyman identifies in second-century Christian writing was still operational
in the furth: each successive hybrid is absorbed, to help produce another.
While Gregory, at least during the six .r;>0nths when he had the cathedral
of Constantinople at his disposal, had a more direct impact upon a much
larger audience than Justin could ever have imagined, his abiding influence
again depended upon the circulation of his texts in circumstances remote
from their original contexts. There is, moreover, very litde evidence about
his success in changing minds among his own immediate listeners. Our sole
witness to his preaching (who is quoting hirn, as Tatian did Justin, to
establish his own pedigree) claims that Gregory could effordessly evoke
unthinking applause;52 the more profound impact of which Elm speaks,
upon the framework of theological thought, seems to begin only in the fifth
century, and is to be connected with Gregory's absorption into a "classical"
patristic canon. Like Justin, Gregory would be transformed by the context
within which he was read. A good example is the treatment of his oration
On Epiphany by the sixth-century commentator "Pseudo-Nonnus," where
the attention to the mythological allusions in the text makes this hardly
recognizable as the same work that Elm discusses. 53 And while we can
assurne that most readers were more interested in Gregory's theological co re
than in the mythological asides, we must not forget the connection between
his remarkable prominence in Byzantine libraries and his posthumous pen-
etration of the schoolbook market. Like Justin, again, Gregory became the
pillar of an orthodox mentality that he would scarcely have recognized, and
with which he may well have had scant sympathy.
True Christian belief, for both Justin and Gregory, involved dramatic
confrontation with false belief: for both, Christianity is defined by reference
to heresy rather than to paganism. Their respective rhetorics of engagement
suggest the room that was available, at the conceptuallevel, for conversion.
In his Apology! J ustin's response to the calumnies against Christianity fo-
mented by evil demons is at first dispassionate: there is a routine, formulaic
tone to the contrast he draws between Christian and pagan cult practices,
and the character of their respective deities. 54 Only when he discusses the
Romans' readiness to believe in the divinity of Simon Magus, a Samaritan
"from a village called Gitta," does he begin to argue his point, famously
adducing epigraphic evidence from "the statue on the Tiber between the
two bridges" to make his case. 55 Whether Justin had imagined or discov-
ered this "Roman" cult of Simon, his sudden insistence he re graphically
delineates his imaginative horizons. From the Tiber bridge the famous tem-
ple of Asclepius was visible direcdy before hirn, and the great temple of
Jupiter on the Capitol towered above: but Justin preferred to pick his fight
with a worn inscription, which he needed to explain before he could de-
nounce it. The passage thus shows one colonial teacher setting out to ex-
pose, for the benefit of a metropolitan audience, the false claims of another.
Something similar could be said about Gregory's Constantinople. Until

he was installed in his cathedral, he appears to have given its congrega-
tion-the established representatives of the Christian church-litde thought.
Only a few of the enemies on Elm's formidable list (p. 2 r) seem actually to
have engaged his attention. Uppermost in his thoughts were undoubtedly
the Eunomians, the targets of his celebrated "Theological Orations"-and
themselves the followers of another inspirational Cappadocian theologian
operating in the capital on a freelance basis. 56 The Pneumatomachoi, too,
will have reminded Gregory vividly of home. 57 When coming to the capi-
tal-whether second-century Rome or fourth-century Constantinople-the
provincial would thus bring his province with hirn.
To Gregory, groups like the Eunomians were more important as enemies
than as potential converts. The brilliant speeches with which he refuted
their positions were not in fact calculated to impress them, or anyone else
who began from their premises. 58 Once again comparison with Justin is
helpful. For next on the apologist's list at Rome, after Simon and his Samar-
itan disciple Menander of Capparetia, was a certain "Marcion of Pontus,
who is still alive, teaching those who believe hirn to believe in a god greater
than the demiurge."59 Justin "knows" that Marcionites are not persecuted or
executed (at least for their beliefs); noting that he has written a book
"Against All the Heresies," he announces that copies are available to the
interested reader. The implied situation merits reflection. Rival groupings
seem to maintain a watchful relationship; but one regards the other not as
a source of potential converts, but as an exhibit to be deployed in argument
with sympathetic interlocutors. Justin's Marcion, prompted by demons,
remains firmly beyond the re ach of any possible debate. 60
Precisely because such litde provision was made to reach out to actual
heretics, moreover, heresies could exist independendy of any professed rep-
resentatives. Gregory Nazianzen, for example, can count Justin's enemies,
the "Sons of Simon Magus" and their Marcionist spawn, among the long
catalogue of "strangers to the faith" whom he delighted by his preaching at
Constantinople. 61 When he asks which member of these sects was so un-
moved as not to bend over before his words,62 the question is intended to be
rhetorical. However, we are entided to doubt whether any Marcionists were
ever present to concede themselves persuaded. While a determined heresi-
ologist like Epiphanius might note the existence of Marcionist conventicles,
he evidendy had to go out of his way to find these, and when he encoun-
tered them his aim was not to covert but to confute; debate with Marcion's
disciples was entirely subordinate to demolition of the heresiarch's books. 63
The same applies to Gregory, who cannot in fact be proved to have exercised
his persuasive powers on any actual doctrinal enemies. Heretics might rather
be seen as boundary markers. For all his claims to have "tamed" his oppo-
nents by his gentleness of speech, Gregory (as has been well said of Justin
and his famous dialogue with Trypho)64 seems to have talked not to them
but at them.
We might go further. Gregory arguably needed his heretics to be irre-
deemable-for this spared hirn the need for converts. His preaching style
was not calculated to persuade . In each of the three sermons Elm discusses
Gregory finds occasion to pick a fight, and these arguments grow more
involved as the series progresses. In Or. 38 his interlocutor is a "feast-Iover"
who might object to the preacher's austerity; in Or. 39 he embarks upon a
spirited debate with a Novatian schismatic; much of Or. 40 consists of a
one-sided dialogue with a reluctant baptismal candidate. This was Grego-
ry's preferred technique, but here his prickly approach jars strikingly with
his celebratory theme. The point noted by Elm, that we cannot be entirely
sure whether these sermons belong to the season of 379/80 or 380/1, de-
serves particular emphasis in this connection. 6S Far whereas in December
379 Gregory had still been confined to his partisan base in the Anastasia, a
year later he was freshly installed in the very different environment of Holy
Wisdom, preaching to the Theodosian establishment. Yet such was the
consistency of his rhetoric that there is no conclusive evidence either way.
On balance, the evidence suggests the later date-when his pugnacity would
become more stridently discordant. For inside his cathedral, the late an-
tique bishop could afford a tone of lofty disdain; as if to compensate hirn for
his inability to project hirns elf into the cemeteries and theaters, incumben-
cy guaranteed preeminence within his own walls. Yet Gregory continued to
speak, as it were, from the campaign trail. The explanation for this is
closely connected to a fundamental contradiction in his situation. While his
government sponsors were looking for abishop who would bring the many
lost sheep of Constantinople into the fold of a genuinely "catholic" church,
Gregory had no intention of making the compromises necessary to achieve
such a goal. The combative brilliance of Gregory's rhetoric should be seen
as a substitute for conversions, not a me ans of effecting them.
The presence of the Theodosian court in Gregory's audience would also
explain another feature of these orations. For the feasts of Theophany and
Epiphany bracketed, with near-perfect symmetry, the greatest festival of the
secular year. The New Year celebrations revolved around the formal inaugu-
ration of the consuls, and in 381 the people of Constantinople would see
Theodosius present the consular robe to his uncle, the first such ceremony
there in over a decade; meanwhile, presents were exchanged and the popu-
lace treated to three days of games. 66 There is no previous evidence, more-
over, for the celebration of the Theophany in late December: so Gregory
might even have been innovating here, creating a major Christian feast in
the run-up to the Kalends. 67 He could not compete with the New Year
festival, so much more compelling than any theatrical display, nor could he
denounce so important astate occasion in the presence of the imperial
court; instead, he simply ignored it. The seamlessness with which Elm
moves from the argument of Or. 38 to that of Or. 39 (pp. 15-16) reflects
exactly Gregory's own approach. Bleary-eyed courtiers who reappeared du-
tifully for the Epiphany service thus had to cope with the abrupt resump-
ti on of a train of thought that had begun a forrnight previously. This is not
the otherworldly self-absorption of a professor who begins his lecture by
completing a sentence which had faded into a pregnant pause the previous
week. Elm's Gregory creates a corpus that is "programmatic, political, and
influential" (p. 5): if Gregory's real influence came only later, when his
works became the set texts of Byzantine orthodoxy, with this quiet restruc-
turing of the calendar he presented to the new Theodosian regime a pro-
gram that wasindeed highly political.
But Gregory ignores more than the holiday his audience has just enjoyed:
the most remarkable political aspect of these orations is his obliviousness to
the most distinguished member of his congregation. For Theodosius would
certainly have been present for Epiphany, and probably for Theophany also.
Although in other sermons of this period Gregory is happy to acknowledge
the emperor's presence, he re he says nothing. 68 Theodosius had been bap-
tized by a Nicene bishop the previous spring: yet during his Epiphany
speech, when Gregory mentions "Caesar" he means only "the world-rulers
of those who whirl below."69 More srrangely still, the following day (when
the emperor may weH have been absent) his question to a man "soiled by
public affairs" what he had to do with Caesar is intended to prompt a self-
evidently negative response;1 and although this harangue was intended to
persuade secular officials to accept baptism, Gregory fails to exploit Theo-
dosius's epoch-making reconciliation of the purple and the font. To und er-
stand Gregory's behavior here we might again compare hirn with Justin.
For both men, in their different ways, were of necessity sophisticated em-
peror-watchers. When Justin wrote his ApologYJ as Lyman points out, em-
perors spoke Greek and comported themselves philosophically: and he duly
addressed his first Apology not only to the emperor Antoninus Pius but also
to his two adoptive sons Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus, styling each a
"philosopher";71 posterity would improve upon this to devise a special rela-
tionship between the Apologist and the most appropriate of his interlocu-
tors. 72 This was a dialogue (whether real or fictive) appropriate for the
times, where Justin's addressees help define the work for his readers. Just so,
Gregory's- refusal to catch the emperor's eye as he re-creates for his audience
the progression from Incarnation through Illumination to Baptism-a re-

fusal that we can be sure made a much more profound impression on his
original audience than it has on later readers-marks a distinct moment in
the developing relationship between Christian emperors and Christian bish-
ops, as they continued to experiment in finding ways of sharing liturgical
space. 73 Gregory's orations provide an example of the complications that the
conversion of Constantine bequeathed the church: a fourth-century philo-
sophical Christian preacher seems to have found it more difficult to face a
baptized Christian emperor in the flesh than did his second-century prede-
cessor to imagine an encounter with a pagan philosophical Caesar. Although
Gregory could preach to the converted, he could do so only in general
terms.
There was one further important difference. The prefect Rusticus found
] ustin frustratingly elusive when he tried to assign hirn a particular base
and a specific body of disciples. 74 Ir was much easier to take the measure of
Gregory. He hirnself records the rumor put about by his enemies, that (even
with the imperial court newly arrived in the city) his congregation "would
not even fi11 the doorways" of the cathedral;75 his success as abishop could
therefore be quantified by his ability to confound such predictions. The
crucial test of his Epiphany preaching would come a few weeks later at the
beginning of Lent, when catechumens put their names forward for baptism
at Easter. And close attention, we can confidently expect, would be paid to
the number of white-robed neophytes that Gregory led to Holy Wisdom
that Easter, in the formal inauguration of the new orthodox dispensation
after (as he would have it) forty years of heretical misrule. The size of the
baptismal cohort would be an obvious measure of Gregory's success in
sowing his harvest among an expectant populace; it also had a personal
significance for Gregory, whose previous experience at Constantinople in-
cluded the disruption of a baptism service by a gang of stone-throwing
monks. 76 But the magnificent Easter sermon to be found among Gregory's(
works was not part of the cycle he delivered in Constantinople. 01. 45
belongs two years later, as his swan-song in Nazianzus; moreover, it incor-
porates two substantial portions (amounting to almost a third of the whole)
taken verbatim from the Theophany sermon. 77 In thus bringing his rhetoric
horne, from Constantinople to Nazianzus, Gregory would demonstrate, once
again, his talent for reinventing hirns elf. However, the "missing" Easter
sermon of 38r is also emblematic of a conversion program that seems never
to have been consummated. Gregory's subsequent correspondence with
Constantinople shows hirn eager to exploit whatever links he could claim
with the great men of the new regime: but nowhere does he claim to have
baptized a correspondent. Instead, for example, he would in 383 remind the
Praetorian Prefect Postumianus of their personal bond: "previously you had

been initiated into piety, then you claimed it as your own. "78 The modesty
of the claim here (which despite assertions to the contrary cannot mean that
Gregory had baptized Postumianus) is instructive, and adds force to the
silence elsewhere. For all the undoubted piety of the new Theodosian elite,
it was no easy matter for any bishop to domesticate them. 79
In fact there is only one contemporary evocation of Gregory's perfor-
mance at the font in 381. That same Easter, at Milan, Bishop Ambrose
conjured up all the baptisms being conducted elsewhere that day, at Rome
and Alexandria and finally, triumphantly, at Constantinople, newly cleansed
of heresy.80 However, Ambrose insisted, the baptisms at Rome were not
Damasus's work, nor those at Constantinople Gregory's. The Holy Spirit
was responsible-and was also at work nearer to horne. For Ambrose was
speaking before Theodosius's colleague Gratian, and he was seeking to claim
hirn for his own agenda by thus presenting a truly global context for his
own baptisms. 81 Here again, therefore, we see abishop effecting his conver-
sions with one eye on an attendant emperor.
FROM CONSTANTINE AND EUSEBIUS TO ]USTINIAN

AND PROCOPIUS: CHRISTIAN EMPERORS AND
CHRISTIAN COMMENTATORS
We can better understand the effort it must have required for Gregory to
ignore the emperor after reading Raymond Van Dam and Michael Maas.
Van Dam's Constantine imposes himself physically upon the attention of his
subjects, who in turn clamor to impose their own interpretations of the
emperor; Maas then takes us to a time when the emperor is much more
overtly the driving force. These two emperors are separated by over two
hundred years, the same gap as between Justin's Apology and Gregory's
baptismal orations; once again the two papers allow us an opportunity to
observe continuities and changes-and to apply the themes and approaches
of the one to the subject-matter of the other.
We might, for example, envisage a paper on "The Many Conversions of
the Emperor Justinian." Maas's use of Bttildings reminds us that Justinian
pinned his identity to his architectural initiatives (or had his identity pinned
to his building programs) even more explicitly than had Constantine; we
might add that he enjoyed as hyperactive a spirituallife as Constantine and
faced as daunting aseries of crises, and late in life would baffle posterity by
announcing, by imperial edict, a conversion to Apthartodocetism. 82 Jus-
tinian's image, religious and otherwise, nevertheless seems much more
determinedly monolithic than Constantine's. Van Dam invites us to expect

self-reinvention as normal or even necessary for late antique leaders faced
with changing situations-so it would be a fruitful further step to test his
chameleonic Constantine against the sixth century.
Conversely, Maas's use of Procopius to tackle "The Question of Cultural
Change in Late Antique Ethnography" might invite us back to the age of
Constantine to consider, as a point of comparison, "Eusebius the Ethnogra-
pher. " For Eusebius of Caesarea deserves more detailed attention in this
respect than the scope of Maas's paper allows. The bishop's principal formal
contribution to the conceptual Christianization of the Roman world is no-
tably austere: his biblical gazetteer, the Onomasticon, pertains more to the
pages of the Old Testament than to the footprints of Christ, and makes no
obvious concessions to the increasing numbers of pilgrims who were seek-
ing to make sense of the Holy Land. 83 The important question, however,
concerns the ethnographic mind-set that can be inferred from Eusebius's
writings. The view we take, for example, of his attentiveness in the Onomas-
ticon to the niceties of provincial nomenclature will determine our beliefs
about the date of his Ecclesiastical History, and is therefore crucial to our
understanding of "Eusebius's intellectual development and literary career"-
and so to the pace of conversion in the third century.84 We might also look
for clues, in his geographical vocabulary elsewhere in his writings, to his
perspectives on the issues that concern Maas, such as mission and conver- (-
sion beyond the frontiers of the empire. There is an implicit ethnography,
for example, in Eusebius's ac count of the "floral garland" of bishops who
reenacted Pentecost at the Council of Nicaea. 85 For a whole imaginative
oikoumene is reflected in the way Eusebius organizes his catalogue of partic-
ipants. A list of Eastern provinces is interrupted after Mesopotamia- "Even
a Persian Bishop was present; nor was a Scythian lacking from the choir"-
before resuming with a slightly zigzag path across Asia Minor, Pontus and
Galatia, Cappadocia and Asia, and so westwards to Epirus with its hinter-
land and finally, in splendid isolation, "even a Spaniard." The pairing of
Persian and Scyth, which quite destroys the geographical principle that
otherwise governs. the passage, serves to re-create a juxtaposition that Euse-
bius had used elsewhere to express the paradoxical contrasts between bar-
barian customs;86 the Spaniards, too, had been put to work previously (along
with the Indians, the Ethiopians, the Britons and the Moors) to evoke the
ends of the earth. 87
In using Constantine's public self-representation to explore the meaning
of his commitment to Christianity, Van Dam returns us forcefully to the
distinction which we have encountered several times before, between initial
impact and subsequent use. Like our previous examples of Constantine's
I
own basilica at the Via Labicana, or the sermons that Gregory would preach
half a kilometer from the column in Constantinople, this was a "text" that
was unveiled with considerable care (and Van Dam is surely correct to allow
Constantine hirns elf a key role in planning so significant a ceremony-p.
I28), but which then inevitably slipped from its author's hands. And in
assessing the immediate effect of the statue we might usefully examine the
context in which it would first be viewed. For (irrespective of the doubts
that still attend the precise character of the lost statue) none of the Eastern
notables who converged upon Constantinople for the great ceremony of 330
could have failed to notice the difference between this idealized, semidivine
image and the fat smile which had grinned down upon their public spaces
previously from statues of the emperor Licinius. 88 The contrast with the
Licinian look is doubly important, for with Constantine the Eastern Empire
was only just emerging from a golden age of danznatio memoriae. Licinius's
statues had been systematically overturned in 325: the better-preserved of
the two surviving examples, from the theater in Ephesus, is preserved pre-
cisely because it fell behind the stage. 89 And Licinius's predecessor Maximi-
nus had suffered a similar fate in 3 I I: Eusebius describes how his toppled
statues became "the object of laughter and jokes from anyone who wanted
to insult hirn," and Gregory Nazianzen tells us that his defaced statues were
still visible in provincial towns of Asia Minor fifty years later. 90 This burst
of licensed iconoclasm was arecent one: Eusebius, who had lived through
many reigns, could claim, wrongly but significantly, that Maximian (anoth-
er who was consigned to the same treatment, just one year before Maximi-
nus) was the "first" emperor to receive it. 91 So in making the erection of a
statue the centerpiece of his foundation ritual Constantine was defying a
recent trend: his decision to invest so much in the statue might therefore be
even more charged than Van Dam suggests.
As Van Dam notes (p. I36), when Constantine inaugurated his new
capital he had already had occasion to experiment in monumentalizing
conversion. His initiatives at Rome, following his victory over Maxentius in
3 I2, have endured rather better than those in Constantinople: the frag-
ments of his colossal marble statue, and his triumphal arch, continue to
compel both admiration and a wide variety of conflicting interpretations. 92
Although Van Dam stresses the difference between the inscription reported
by Eusebius (which may or may not have belonged to the statue preserved
in the Palazzo dei Conservatori) and the noncommittal phraseology in-
scribed on the arch, we need not doubt either that Eusebius would have
been capable of giving the strongest possible reading to "the divinity"
mentioned on the arch, or that non-Christians could have found the statue
sufficientfy hedged with traditional divinity to outweigh such novel
accessories as the labarum. Neither Christians nor pagans, however, will

have been able to ignore the political implications of the two monuments
when they first saw them: the statue appropriated a basilica that had orig-
inally been labeled "Maxentian," while the arch straddled the route along
which the emperor marched to celebrate the overthrow of the "tyrant."
Only as historians have come to appreciate Maxentius's originality and en-
ergy in promoting his image, have they begun to allow for the challenge
that Constantine faced in imposing his own. 93 While he may or may not
have been thought to intend the overthrow of false gods, there could be no
doubt that he intended to obliterate the false emperor. The monuments
with which he celebrated his divinely assisted victory thus put more obvi- (
ous emphasis upon identifying the victor than on the specific character of
his divine assistance. Constantine's most urgent task after 312 was to con-
vert Rome from Maxentius, not from Capitoline Jupiter.
We should note, too, what Constantine left unconverted at Rome. One
monument that (as far as we know) smiled down undisturbed on the new
emperor is especially relevant to Van Dam's theme. The most dramatic tetrar-
chie contribution to the cityscape of Rome had been at the heart of the ancient
Forum, the central plaza of which was now dominated by a tall column. This
has fared rather better physically than Constantine's in Constantinople, but
obtrudes from the present-day Forum as the "Column of Phocas," an inglorious
postclassical anomaly. Only recently has scholarship recognized the impact it
will have made in its original setting; the highly attractive suggestion that it
was crowned by astatue of Diocletian would provide a direct model for Con-
stantine's initiative at Constantinople. 94 The persecuting emperor Diocletian,
unlike Maxentius, belonged to an already usable past; even when he turned to
Christ, Constantine remained a true child of the tetrarchie order.
In inviting us to look at Constantine's public images rather than at the
texts that sought to explain the emperor's motives, Van Dam keeps the
emphasis firmlyon the outward markers of religious commitment, rather
than its invisible workings. The reading of Constantine's statue as a conver-
sion text might recall J ustin's hope of bringing the deluded Simonians of
Rome to their senses, if he could secure authority to destroy the statue
which, he alleged, Claudius had mistakenly erected to their false god. 95 But
conversions could be marked (or even effected) by statuesque gestures as
weIl as by sculpture. Justin's contemporary Apuleius would make his hero
Lucius announce his conversion to Isis in the final book of the Golden Ass
not through his initiation (about which he is properly reticent) but through
his unveiling on a podium before the crowds, where he stood, he tells us,
dressed up "like the sun, and in the likeness of a statue."96 Gregory Nazianzen
would in turn recall, ten years after the event, how Basil of Caesarea had
tamed a heretical emperor by striking a pose of heroic immobility at an

Epiphany service. 97 Significantly, both Justin and Gregory appear to have
been mistaken. The former, as mentioned earlier, seems to have misread an
inscription; Gregory, whether willfully or not, has probably misconstrued
the ceremonial formali ti es of astate occasion. 98 The two mistakes bring
horne once again the extent to which monuments and gest ures alike are
liable, with the passage of time, to reinterpretation.
For Christi an converts, the public ceremonies of baptism provided an
opportunity to exhibit their faith, much as Apuleius's lucius had exhibited
his after his initiation. Here we again confront the social ambiguity of the
baptismal rites. On the one hand, the bishop was fully in control as he led
the neophytes from the font, like a father his children, and presented them
to their new brethren, the faithful. On the other hand, these brethren will
have recognized, beneath the white robes, family members and friends-
and also, we need not doubt, markers of social status. For despite Gregory
Nazianzen's claim to the power to "inscribe" the newly baptized, there
would have been some new Christians who reserved that right for them-
selves. Another famaus passage from Augustine's Confessions describes how
the celebrated rhetor of Rome, Marius Victorinus, was offered the opportu-
nity to give his baptismal pledge privately, and so protect his verecundia, his
modesty; but Victorinus (who had already had astatue raised in his honor)
preferred to take his place with the other converts and, not unlike Apuleius's
lucius, proclaim his faith "from a raised platform."99 The anecdote makes it
clear that when he appeared among the neophytes Victorinus was not lost
in the crowd. Such pious immodesty might not always be comfortable for
the churchmen trying to impose their own meanings on the ceremony.
Jacob knew what he was doing when, in the Lift 0/ Pelagia, he kept his
heroine invisible while in her neophyte's robe. On the other hand, when
Constantine, in the last of the many conversions he would undergo during
his long career, put aside his imperial purple for the baptismal gown, he
remained (even in Eusebius's account) beyond the reach of episcopal cate-
chists. The emperor comes to his God at his own speed, and in his new
costume he pursues an idiosyncratic pastoral program. 100
By privileging plastic art over text as evidence for Constantine's own
presentation of his religious identity, Van Dam thus brings internal process-
es into the public domain. He also brings out the public aspects of other
experiences that we tend to regard as private-such as dreaming. Dreams
enter history only when they are shared. In the Lift 0/ Pelagia Bishop Non-
nus thus confides his to the narrator, on a Sunday morning-"after the
nighttime prayers"-somewhat redundantly, since despite his expressed
puzzlement the bishop's tone remains serene, and he does not invite an
opinion. 101 But it is Eusebius's account of Constantine's famous VlSlOn in

3 12 that brings horne most clearly the extent to which such matters were
played out before an audience. The army had been perplexed by a celestial
phenomenon; Constantine awoke the next morning with a dream, and re-
ported its import to a committee of expert exegetes, whose findings were
duly announced to the expectant soldiers. 102 This episode (not to mention
the "countless personal visions" that Constantine could allegedly describe if
he wished)103 helps suggest the expectations that might press upon a man in
public life, whose followers might begin to count, during times of crisis,
upon his having avision to report to them in the morning. And like all
political activity in the fourth century, dreaming had its dangers. One of
the most sinister figures described by Ammianus is Mercurius, the "Count
of Dreams"; several cases of the dire consequences of inappropriate oneiric
activity are on record. 104 The sophisticated analysis now available of late
antique dreams could usefully be supplemented by a study of such aspects
of the social and political context. 105 Gregory Nazianzen, for example, sev-
eral times reports his dream experiences-but the two most powerful such
reports both occur in prominent parts of formal public orations, and need to
be interpreted accordingly. A reported encounter with his dead brother
Caesarius provides dramatic punctuation for a funeral speech, marking the
point when he turns from lamentation to moral exhortation; the dream-
conversations he claims to enjoy with Basil mark the climax of his long,
magnificent commemoration of his old friend-and arguably provide the
final, decisive move in a long and subtle act of appropriation. 106
Ammianus, too, would note almost formulaically how Julian would re-
port his successive dreams to "his closer intimates."107 Like Eusebius with
Constantine, the historian is careful to hint at his own privileged access to
imperial visionary experience. The dream life of the late antique emperor,
indeed, would make the subject for a paper in itself: for here we might trace
one of the specific cultural consequences of conversion to Christianity. This
is aperiod when we see an extension of the visionary franchise. Not only do
members of the imperial family, from Constantine's mother Helena on-
wards, contribute their own converging visions, but emperors also begin to
feature in their subjects' dreams. Julian is the best-known case, as anxieties
about the emperor's paganism spilled over into the Christian subconscious
(and those denied persecution found outlets for their frustration).108 But it
is Theodosius, he re as in so many other areas, who most faithfully relives
Constantine's experience. Before his confrontation with paganism at the
battle of the Frigidus he too (at least according to Theodoret)109 would have
a dream in which he was promised divine assistance, albeit by an apostolic
delegation rather than by Christ hirns elf; the promise was then authenticated
by the testimony of a common soldier who had also had the same dream,
and duly reported it to his centurion, who passed it up through the chain
of command until it reached Theodosius hirnself. Thus, once again, the
whole army was implicated in the emperor's experience.
If this example shows that Theodosius could on occasion enjoy direct
access to the divine, albeit on a less elevated level than Constantine, two
further reported dreams reveal a more fundamental change. Theodosius was
much more closely involved with-and personally committed to-individ-
ual churchmen and factions inside the church than Constantine had ever
been. Ir was reported that on his arrival in Constantinople he recognized the
venerable Meletius, bishop of Antioch, on the basis of a dreamYo whatever
the origins of the story, it is significant that the emperor's dreams could be
thought to be populated by specific churchmen. Still more remarkable is
the dream which Ambrose of Milan, on a famous occasion, would claim to
have had involving Theodosius himself. ll1 In reporting this dream to the
emperor (and gendy suggesting that he might give it wider publicity)
Ambrose was able to stake a certain authoritative claim upon hirn.
With ] ustinian we have an emperor more dreamed about than dreaming.
Indeed, he was famously able to do with a bare minimum of sleepY2 while
this asceticism on the one hand indicates a further development in the
points of contact men could have (and be seen to have) with the divine, his
nocturnal roaming of the palace could also be held to supply proof positive
of his demonic natureY3 In Maas's period as much as in Van Dam's, the
emperor was under close scrutiny from his Christian subjects, and imperial
initiatives to express a distinctive Christian identity continued to prompt
responses. We can trace one such "dialogue" in the evolution of a monu-
ment in Constantinople which Van Dam mentions (p. 145) as a counter-
point to Constantine's statue, the emperor's mausoleum at Holy Aposdes.
Eusebius describes this, in a famously convoluted passage which neverthe-
less brings out the tension between the two aspects of the monument. 1l4 On
the one hand it was a highly individual and idiosyncratic expression of the
emperor's own conception of his Christian identity; on the other the inclu-
sion of an altar and provisions for services meant that whatever symbolism
he had intended, Constantine was entrusting to the clergy who would preach
there the task of interpreting the structure-and his own posthumous mem-
ory. This development, which can be seen as a consequence of the disman-
ding of the traditional imperial cult, seems to have caused uneasiness both
for Constantine's son (who must have feared losing control of the tools of
legitimacy) and for the ecclesiastical establishment, which faced the awk-
ward responsibility of upholding an imperial ideology: the consequences
were misuhderstandings, rioting, and repressionY5 A provincial bishop helped
solve the impasse by announcing that apostolic relics had revealed them-
selves to hirn, allowing Constantius to transform Holy Apostles into a more
intelligible (and more clearly demarcated) spaceY6 Procopius in his Build-
ings then describes a further transformation of the siteY7 The central epi-
sode in his account of Justinian's rebuilding is the miraculous reappearance
of the relics, now clearly operating on an imperial rather than an episcopal
frequency: "For when the emperor is pious, divinity does not walk apart
from humanity but mingles with men and delights in their company." As
Maas reminds us throughout his paper, we are now in aperiod when atten-
tion is focused upon the emperor with a new intensity. Dreams also organize
themselves around Justinian's projects. The most carefully structured of
Procopius's campaign narratives describes the ambitious invasion of Vandal
Africa, which Justinian was on the brink of canceling: Procopius shows a
Christian bishop stiffening the emperor's resolve by reporting a visionary
message from God, and the historian receives his own separate, private
reassurance; the orthodox Christians of Africa are meanwhile being inspired
by visions of Saint CyprianYs The interlocking dreams will recall the vi-
sions of Constantine and Theodosius before the defining triumphs of their
respective careers; at the same time, however, Procopius's report is presented
within a framework that requires analysis in terms of his own distinctive
discourse. 119
Maas's case study of the Tzani (p. 160) indicates how much the student
of conversion might learn from detailed attention to Procopius's language.
For here, in a cluster of converging passages, we see hints of how the
Byzantine missionary program was conditioned by imaginative horizons, as
well as by material resources and political priorities. Procopius's vocabulary
and style-the more valuable for its formulaic character-shows how a
conception of Christian conversion is related to traditional classical ideas of
acculturation. For example, the passage from the Wars which shows conver-
sion to Christianity to mark the end of Tzani history- " ... such then was
the history of the Tzani" (2.25; above, p. 163)-is built around a single
long sentence which aligns the two transformations, the cultural and the
religious, in an elegant conceit: having changed their diaita for the gentler
they also changed their doxa for the more pious. That the two categories
diaita and doxa are exactly parallel is clear from their recurrence in the
Buildings passage (Buildings 3.6; above, p. 164), but in reverse order. But
whereas the former term had been part of the staple conceptual diet of
ethnographers from Thucydides onwards, doxa (which is not quite "reli-
gion") strikes a markedly unclassical note: it sees likely that Procopius has
here imported his vocabulary from the Christian scheme, where orthodoxy
faced the varieties of heterodoxy.120
In the Buildings passage Procopius begins his account where the Wars had
left off, with the Tzani now converted but with Justinian concerned about
the danger of backsliding. The feared regression concerns their diaita and
ethe (the logical dependence of habits upon diaita again follows the classical
tradition)-not their doxa-and is solved by the classic Roman expedient of
road-building. But the instinctive parallelism remains, for as weIl as thus
taming their diaita J ustinian also builds the Tzani a church, causing them
(and the panegyrist credits hirn with as sweeping a range of initiatives as
did the Ursinian vituperators Damasus) to hold services so that, on my
interpretation of the puzzling Greek, "they might be human beings with
sense." And then, just as in the Wars passage where gentler diaita had
meant joining the Roman army and more pious doxa joining the Christian
church, Procopius appends to J ustinian's contributions a list of forts, one of
which is located at Schamalinichoi, the same place as the church. Signifi-
cantly, although the Tzani are Christians they do not build their own church-
es, nor likewise are these forts garrisoned by Tzani recruits. We are far from
Justin's city of Flavia Neapolis, where the priests who would anchor the
newly Romanized Samaritans in the Roman order were recruited from the
local elite. Roman priests are now expatriates, agents of the imperial power
working in the shadow of its military presence.
EIsewhere in Bttildings Procopius shows Justinian effecting similar trans-
formations by similar means in two places in outer Libya. First we find hirn
"making provision for" the twin ci ti es of Augila, previously still "diseased
with polytheism": he taught them the doxa of piety, having made them
Christians and transforming their wicked ancestral ethe. As with the Tzani,
the process is sealed with the construction of a church, to preserve their
safety and their "truth in respect of the doxa. "121 The Jews of nearby Bor-
eium receive similar treatment: Justinian "brought it about" that they
changed their ancestral ethe and became Christian, and converted their
ancient temple (built by Solomon!) into a church. l22 From such examples we
can reconstruct a Procopian typology of conversion, where doxa manifests
itself in ethe, which in turn amount to a cluster of specific practices.
In Wars, likewise, the expressions that Procopius uses to describe the
Tzani recur in parallel cases. Closest to the model we have seen in Buildings
are the Beruli: Justinian again takes the initiative, purchasing their friend-
ship and persuading them to become Christian. "As a result," they change
their diaita "for the gentler" (epi to hemerteron: the phrasing is identical to
the account of the Tzani) and decide to adopt Christian conventions (nomoi)
"for the most part"-but continue to practice their bestial customs. 123 Less
domesticated still are the Franks, barbarians who despite "having become
Christian!' still preserve most of their ancient doxa, which finds expression
in human sacrifice and unholy rites, on the basis of which they practice
divination. 124 In this example we discover that Christianity is not necessar-
ily identical with the doxa maintained by a Christian people.
But the most imeresting paralleis to the Tzani concern aseries of their near
neighbors on the Eastern Black Sea coast. The Abasgi, traditionally pagan and
blighted by the trade in eunuchs, have changed "for the gender" (the same
expression again: epi to hemerteron) in Justinian's day. They (the people, rather
than their mlers) chose the Christian dogma and responded enthusiastically
when Justinian sem a eunuch to command the abolition of the practice of
castration. The emperor then provided a church and priests to teach them "all
the he of Christianity." The church's task is thus conceived as the inculcation
of proper habits rather than correct belief. At the same time, conversion is
direcdy related to (and serves to legitimize) a fundamental political realign-
ment, as the now Christian people eject their kings and "live in freedom"-
which means (unlike with the Tzani) subordinate to Roman rule. 125
The political implications of conversion are much more dramatic in our
final two examples from the region. The first is an attempted conversion
from Christianity. The whole sequence of Procopius's Wars is triggered when
the Persian king Khavad wished to compel the Iberians, Persian subjects
but Christians, who indeed "preserve the customs of the doxa most of all the
men that we know,"126 to follow the customs of his own doxa J and ordered
their king to expose the dead to be eaten by birds: which outrage provoked
the latter to declare for Rome. Here the solidly Christian populace becomes
a causal agent, when one of their central rituals is threatened: yet Procop-
ius's account shifts swiftly and silently to the activities of the king, and no
more is heard of Iberian Christianity after the Persians arrive; other sources
meanwhile suggest that the historian has (at the very least) overstated the
preeminence of Christian culture. l27 We see much the same structure (and
several of the same difficulties) in the account of the revolt of the Lazi from
Persia. Persian rule was oppressive because the Persians were harsh in their
diaita and in their customs and ordinances; they especially differed from
J
the Lazi in their thinking and diaita because the Lazi were Christians "most
of all men," while the Persians were their direct opposites as regards to
theion. 128 Again Procopius establishes a fundamental cultural division, which
(with economic factors relegated to a footnote)129 helps to explain a vital
political event, but again the explanation fails to convince in the face of the
abundant evidence for Persian cultural influence in sixth-century Lazica. 130
Ir is also suspiciously convenient: where Persian failure in Lazica could be
explained as the inevitable result of cultural incompatibility, the Romans'
own previous alienation of the populace could be attributed to the failings
of a few individuals. 131
Procopius's ethnographical vision thus not only involves a conceptual

scheme that could be applied to three different continents; it is also entan-
gled with political considerations. This might sum up one important change
in the two centuries since Constantine, and Eusebius's Scyths and Persians.
While Constantine had perhaps had so many different meanings pinned
upon hirn because he had passed through so many places, Justinian spent
half a century rooted in Constantinople. Whereas in the fourth century a
provincial like Eusebius could spend most of his career at horne and still
make a plausible claim to be the emperor's authentic interpreter, therefore,
his sixth-century Caesarean compatriot Procopius sees the world through a
Constantinopolitan prism. Justinian remains central to the panegyric of
Buildings} to the invective of the Secret History} and to the narrative of the
Wars; events in the provinces tend to be pale reflections of those in the
capital, from where the whole empire (and the world beyond its borders)
seems within the emperor's reach. Consider Procopius's effusive description
of the large bronze equestrian statue of J ustinian (in reality a reused image
of Theodosius) that crowned a column in the Augusteum. 132 Here again,
imperial iconography attracted interpretation: like Constantine on his pil-
lar, Justinian faced the east, but Procopius discovered symbolic meaning in
his thus directing his course towards the Persians, raising a cross and an
outstretched hand at them. The Christian emperor has become a crusader,
albeit a strangely defensive one, whose vigorous movements are designed
solely to ensure that the enemy stays at horne.
From atop his own column, the bronze Constantine would thus look
across, by the mid-sixth century, to the rump of Justinian/Theodosius's
horse. As the skyline of Constantinople changed, so too did the significance
of its monuments. Ir is therefore probably no coincidence that the most
dramatic event associated with the column of Constantine occurred when
the founder's statue could look down at an empty wasteland, after the Nika
riots of 531 had left everything in ruins as far as Constantine's Forum.
During the riots the monument was pressed into service by the crowd who
acclaimed Hypatius as emperor: they brought hirn to the top step of the
plinth, under the column itself, and dressed hirn in makeshift regalia. 133
Constantine's statue provided a touchstone of imperiallegitimacy. Like Holy
Apostles, this was aspace potentially available for appropriation; and as at
Holy Apostles, politics and religion remained intertwined. The crowd duly
returned to the statue two years later, after an earthquake, occupying the
forum and intoning prayers; there is no record that the clergy took the
lead. 134
By the ninth century, a partnership between emperor and bishops had im-
posed ceremonial order. The Book 01 Ceremonies introduces a further "Conversion"
of Constantine. It describes how on the Feast of Mary the imperial party would
leave Holy Wisdom and take its place on the steps at the base of the column;
the patriarch would then arrive, and formal greetings would be exchanged. The
patriarch with his attendants would then enter "the chapel of the same column,
or of Saint Constantine." The first Christian emperor was now a saint, receiving
the formal ministrations of the clergy in a tiny church attached to the base of
the column; the ceremonies were so organized as to offer a potent display of
church and state in harmony.135
FROM EINHARD TO AUGUSTINE
Julia Smith takes us to the ninth-century West, where the Constantinian

past was undergoing different transformations and being put to other uses.
A few generations previously, the "Donation of Constantine" had emerged,
baptizing the emperor-in perhaps the most spectacular of all his many
posthumous conversions-into a church that he could not conceivably have
imagined;136 the popes would duly appropriate the fragments of his great
marble statue to adorn their Lateran palace. The great basilicas with which
Constantine had surrounded Rome were meanwhile undergoing their own
transformations, having long outlasted their original funerary function. While
some-notably Peter and Paul-were protected by their importance in papal
liturgy, others had become oversized (and therefore untenable) relics of a no
longer relevant past. The great basilicas on the Via Nomentana and the Via
Tiburtana had given way to the adjacent churches directly attached to the
graves of the resident martyrs Agnes and Laurence, the small but spectac-
ular creations of popes Honorius and Pelagius. 137
The relics which Einhard procured from Rome return us to the scene of
our first section, the cemetery of Peter and Marcellinus on the Via Labicana.
Here too, Constantine's vast basilica had been displaced and may well al-
ready have been semiderelict; the ac,:tion is confined to the tiny basilica ad
corpus that now stood adjacent, the outgrowth of the crypt that Damasus
had provided for the martyrs. 138 Or rather, it occurred in a literary approx-
imation to this, for (despite his vivid description) it has proved impossible
to reconcile Einhard's account with the physical remains. 139 In incorporating
into his account the remains of Tiburtius, one of the other saints in the
cemetery to whom (as noted earlier) Damasus had extended his patronage,
Einhard creates an archaeological impossibility. It seems likely enough that
adetermination to subordinate these relics (which had gone to his riyal
Hilduin) to his own was he re driving his imagination; however, it remains
much less clear whether he was seeking to "cast doubt" on the authenticity
of Tiburtius's relics, or to use their unquestioned authenticity to support the

disputed credentials of his own. 140 Whatever the case, such considerations
bring horne the competitive pressures that complicated the Carolingian
enterprise of appropriating Rome's sacred past to legitimize a program of
correctio. A further example of the tensions involved is Einhard's portrait of
Deusdona, the entrepreneurial deacon who brokered the acquisition. We
here see Einhard being pulled in different directions. By introducing Deus-
dona as a casual traveler, asking only the gift of a mule in return for his
services, he counters any suspicions that the transaction was merely com-
mercial; the repeated insistence thereafter on the deacon's unhelpfulness, on
the other hand, suggests adetermination to quash any suggestion that the
credit for the acquisition in fact belonged to Deusdona. 141 There had been
arecent occasion for the ventilation of such suggestions, for Deusdona was
back in Francia in early summer 830, just before the publication of the
Translation} supplying new relics to Einhard and other customers-and sup-
plying a provenance for the previous arrivals. 142
The Translation thus reflects a fine balance. The evident concern to pro-
vide Einhard's saints with an autonomous genealogy suggests that the cul-
tural influence of Rome, as represented by freelancers like Deusdona, was
still keenly felt in Francia; the delicate hints in which any insinuations
about Hilduin's relics are veiled indicates awareness of the self-destructive-
ness of overt polemic; the casting of the invention account as a vindication
of pious Frankish self-reliance seems calculated to appeal to the readers' self-
image. The authority of Pope Gregory IV is nowhere apparent in Einhard's
Rome; only on the road horne does a party of papal envoys add a frisson of
danger. 143 Instead, the Franks look for guidance to a group of Greek monks
installed on the Palatine;144 this is the Rome of the pilgrims, where parties
of foreigners (much like Jerome and his friends in the fourth century) find
space in the numinous cemeteries to create their own Christianities.
Smith's Einhard is also another emperor-watching convert, whose com-
mitment to Christianity is plotted against the changing configurations of
the Carolingian court at Aachen-where, once again, new generations of
viewers would attach fresh meanings to ancient monumental statuary.145
And as Justin responded to the cultural cues offered by Antonine Rome,
and Gregory to the political opportunity presented by the arrival in Con-
stantinople of the Theodosian court, so Einhard's texts were shaped both by
the prevailing cultural climate and by their immediate political context.
Smith's date of 830 for the publication of the Translation (p. I93) requires
us to read the work against the background of great crisis faced that year by
louis the Pious. The portrait of Hilduin, certainly, seems to reflect the
latter's temporary disgrace; the coded nature of Einhard's criticisms (p. 204)
suggests, however, a calculation that the resilient arch-chaplain would not

be left to shiver in Paderborn indefinitely. Einhard shows equal care in
establishing his leverage over his emperor. The martyrs' preferred method of
communication is through dreams: and here we see the culmination of the
process that had begun with Constantine, where Christian rulers lose con-
trol of political dreams. 146 Having hirnself validated the martyrs at Easter
828, Louis could hardly repudiate the messages that came from them that
autumn. Moreover, Einhard, at Aachen, was ideally placed to deliver these
messages, since he was sufficiently far from Seligenstadt not to be impli-
cated in their composition, while at the same time he was able to command
the emperor's ear. But in publishing his Translation two years later he was
able to reiterate the martyrs' message, for the benefit of a wider audience:
and to suggest the prospect of further revelations to come. 147 We cannot
tell, at this distance, whether publication was intended to prompt action
from Louis, or to comment on his inaction. However, the prominence given
to the two visions directed at the monarch suggests strongly that this was
a fundamental element in Einhard's complex apologia: and although the
painstaking proof of the martyrs' authenticity in the first two books might
seem to lay the foundation for the political critique in the third, it is also
possible to read the argument in reverse.
A further element also deserves emphasis. As far as we know, the winter
of 830 was the first that Einhard spent away from the court. The newly
composed text would thus have served there as a substitute for his presence.
And in sending it he not only rerninded the king of the martyrs' wise
counsel, but also showed hirnself to be more than an ordinary counselor.
Through the Translation Einhard obtains a hinterland. Not only do we find
hirn rooted beside his rnartyrs at Seligenstadt, where the local Maingau
color is combined with hints of more cosmopolitan horizons (the possibility,
for example, that a Rorne-bound Englishman could meet a party of entre-
preneurial German merchants there); the three monasteries from which the
saints echoed their chorus-at Valenciennes, Ghent, and Maastricht-were
his own possessions, and had each provided hirn sanctuary during his pain-
ful and inglorious journeying earlier in 830.148 As Einhard's world assurnes
physical shape and spiritual meaning, he too takes on a new identity. He
might have disappeared from court, but he was no Hilduin helplessly stranded
arnong the Saxons. The text thus brings horne, yet again, the physical
dimension of conversion: it reaffirms the link between court and country-
side created by the relays of crowds who escorted the martyrs horne from
Aachen in 828. 149
We should not take for granted Einhard's achievement here. Just six
months after Gregory Nazianzen's dazzling Theophany and Epiphany
sermons, for example, he would petition Theodosius for release from Con-
stantinople-so that he could live a li fe wholly dedicated to God back in
his native Cappadocia. However, on his return Gregory would find it very
difficult to win recognition for his new role, as the bishops of his province
tried to pressgang hirn and the clergy of his city mutinied, while critics
asked pointed questions ab out his lifestyle and his literary ventures. 150 His
recently dead friend Basil was perhaps Gregory's nearest equivalent to Ein-
hard's martyrs, but since the Hilduins of Caesarea retained physical posses-
sion of the body he had less scope to reconfigure the local spiritual
landscape. 151 Gregory struggled, too, to control interpretations of his retire-
ment at Constantinople: hence (among other things) the combatively jagged
edge of his verse auto biog rap hy. Gregory's "conversion" from court bishop
to recluse created a sense of distance that is entirely lacking from Einhard.
Indeed, Louis the Pious hirnself would come to visit Einhard and his mar-
tyrs, quite possibly (as Smith has attractively and plausibly suggested) to
celebrate the dedication of their church. If so, his devotions can be com-
pared to Damasus's before the same martyrs at Rome nearly four centuries
previously, astate visit intended both to enhance a nascent cult and to
establish a proprietorial claim. But where the pope had left his own story
about the martyrs inscribed on their tomb, the king would find that Peter
and Marcellinus had their own stories to tell about hirn. His son Louis the
German, at any rate, would in 874 see hirn in a dream suffering torments
in hell, after hearing reports that his own son had been in conference "in the
presence of the martyrs" at Seligenstadt: and the cause of the king's agony,
it was confidently stated, was his failure to comply with the book of in-
structions that the saints had forwarded via Einhardt long ago. 152
But perhaps the most useful counterpart to Einhard is another earnest
intellectual who forged a court career (and recounted an emperor's great
deeds) before returning to provincial obscurity and a life of piety and renun-
ciation. Augustine of Hippo has figured obliquely in each of the previous
seetions of this paper, just as his presence is implicit in several of the papers
in this volume-and a test of the utility of this collection of case studies
would be to measure the fresh light they throw upon the most famous
conversion experience of late antiquity. We might, for example, follow Ly-
man and attempt a postcolonial reading of Augustine, whose early career
could be construed as a politic exercise in "passing"; or we could take our
lead from Van Dam and once again take seriously the idea of Augustine as
aserial convert-with each new conversion the subject of earnest discussion
(and formal exhibition) before a group of intimates.
Or else we might follow Lim and Elm, and consider (against the thrust
of his own narrative) Augustine's baptism as a defining moment in his
conversion. The party which entered Ambrose's font in 387 seems to come
direcdy from one of Rebillard's cemeteries, for Augustine led a family
group consisting of his son and a fellow townsman from Africa. 153 It is
worth recalling all that we do not know about the context: whether the
three represented an isolated clique or part of a harmonious constellation of
similar groups; whether they counted for a significant proportion of the
year's baptismal intake, or were three among hundreds; whether the rhetor
stood out as one of the bishop's prize "catches" that year (a modest local
counterpart, perhaps, to Victorinus of Rome) or was merely a face in a
crowd. Such questions are important, since their answers are too often as-
sumed in modern studies of Augustine. We need also to imagine, moreover,
Augustine's first encounter, direcdy after his baptism, with the Milanese
faithful (when he would have recognized his mother-and how many other
familiar faces?);154 and also the welcome that the faithful in turn accorded
the new recruit. Augustine would famously emphasize sounds rather than
sights: in the days after Easter, while he continued to wear the neophyte's
gown, he was haunted by "the music of the sweet chants of your Church."155
Modern scholarship has tended to underplay Augustine's reminder that the
music which was here incorporated into the liturgy had been improvised
under very different circumstances just one year previously.156 Yet we can be
sure that the singers themselves will have been keenly aware of the differ-
ence the past year had made. In 386 the bishop's prebaptismal instruction
had been interrupted by the clangor of weaponry in the streets outside, and
urgent reports of escalating crisis: there could be no question about the
commitment of the neophytes who emerged on Easter morning. Again, one
can only wonder how many there had been: and how the numbers the
following year compared. But this new intake of 387 might weIl have
seemed, to uncharitable onlookers, to be passengers belatedly leaping aboard
a bandwagon. It is not necessarily straightforward to join a church of justi-
fied near-martyrs. Was the bishop of Milan's undoubted readiness to reach
out to the formerly frigid offset by a reluctance, among some at least among
the faithful, to see their heroic purity diluted? All we know is that Augus-
tine's conversion would lead to an abrupt departure from metropolitan Milan,
back across the Mediterranean to smalltown Africa. Perhaps the formidable
unanimity expressed by Ambrose's batde hymns had served to exclude as
weIl as to unite.
Finally, we might consider the baptisms that Augustine himself admin-
istered, year after year, as bishop of Hippo, and his sensitivity to the many
levels of "conversion" that attached to the sacrament. 157 Baptism featured in
several of the martyr-related miracles recorded in City 0/ God (one of Char-
lemagne's favorite books, as Einhard reminds US),158 which bring out with
particular vividness the concrete, physical dimensions that have been cen-
tral to this paper. Innocentia of Carthage, for example, suffered from breast
cancer-until "on the approach of Easter" she was advised in a dream (which
in turn responded to her doctor's orders) "to wait for the first woman that
came out from the baptistery after being baptized, and to ask her to make
the sign of Christ upon her sore."159 The story, which ends with a successful
eure, brings horne the quasi-magical significance that attached to the con-
vert who could be seen to be converted: and this in turn will have had a
pow~rful effect in sustaining a conception of the conversion process that was
essentially physical. We also see; once more, the need to take into ac count
the role of the audience even at such formalized events as baptism, and the
way that their agendas will have helped shape the occasion for participants
too. Abishop like Gregory Nazianzen might have insisted to his baptismal
candidates that it made no difference in what order they emerged from the
font, but the ladies of Carthage clearly knew better.
Our final episode-which also provides the final climax to Augustine's
list of miracles-concerns a palsied brother and sister ftom Gregory's Cap-
padocia, whom a mother's curse had driven to wander the Mediterranean.
Two weeks before Easter they arrived at Hippo, "and they came daily to
church, and in it specially to the relics of the most glorious Stephen, pray-
ing that God might now be appeased, and restore their former health.
There, and wherever they went, they turned to themselves the gaze of the
city." On Easter morning, "when there was nowa large crowd present," the
young man dramatically collapsed beside the relics and then arose to stand,
significantly immobile, "looking upon those who were looking at hirn."
The news reached Augustine as he prepared to come to the cathedral,
causing hirn to cut short his Easter sermon so that the people might see,
rather than hear, God's message. 160
Augustine thus shows the two strangers "converting" the town of Hippo
during the fortnight before Easter, by turning its attention upon themselves
while they prayed to the martyrs: 161 "convertebant in se civitatis aspectum."
We underestimate at our perit the enduring connotations of what became
the language of Christian commitment: for such semantic overlaps will also
have done much to shape popular interpretation. This is where the contri-
butions of Maas and Van Dam might most usefully come together. For
there remains much room for further exploration of the late antique vocab-
ulary of "conversion," in such a way as to do justice to the broad spectrum
of phenomena that were included in contemporary understanding of the
term. Every sermon that Augustine preached would end, indeed, with a
mass "conversion," as his parishioners obeyed his call to "Turn to the Lord"
and give thanks; conversio in the Confessions is also a matter of faces being
physically turned, to God or to man-or indeed to the spectacle of a dog

chasing a hare .162
The miracle in Hippo involved abishop struggling to cope with a situ-
ation that was beyond his direct control, and so brings us back to the scene
evoked at the very beginning of this paper. This time, however, there is an
unusual wealth of circumstantial detail, allowing us to explore Augustine's
predicament more fuIly. For the excitement would continue, until the boy's
sister was also cured two days later during the middle of the bishop's
sermon, occasioning another "conversion" among the congregation. 163 More-
over, we can test Augustine's retelling of the episode in City 0/ God against
the transeripts of four sermons he preached during the actual event. 164 And
while in the later account Augustine brings the story to a resounding finish
with the deafening roar of the exultant people, their hearts full of faith in
Christ, the transcript shows hirn breaking an eventual silence on an almost
apologetic note, with an ingenious play upon the sequence of tenses in a
biblical nugget that looks like the improvisation of a preacher who has
suddenly found hirns elf caught one step behind the faithful,l65 Nor is this
the end of the episode. Augustine doggedly resumed his original train of
thought the following day, returning to the exact point where the miracle
had interrupted his sermon. We thus end not with the people's cheers at the
extraordinary power of their own relics of Stephen, but with the bishop's
plodding reaffirmation of the efficacy of those kept in the nearby town of
Uzalis. 166
Augustine constructs the episode as a dialogue between hirnself and the
congregation; but to understand the rhythm of events we must consider one
particular group whose presence the bishop studiously ignores. When the
first miracle occurred on Easter morning, Augustine (we can assurne) was
preparing to lead the newly baptized neophytes back to the cathedral for
their first full Eucharistie service. This probably explains why he finds it
necessary to plead exhaustion to excuse hirnself from preaching .167 For the
neophytes would have expected a sermon-and would have expected to
figure prominently in it themselves, the focus of the congregation's gaze as
they sat with the clergy in the sanctuary.168 Some may weIl have feIt disap-
pointed to be so thoroughly upstaged. Augustine's Tuesday sermon, more-
over, which had begun with attention directed on the two Cappadocians
standing in the apse, can be read as an attempt to shift the rhetorical
spotlight back to the in/antes by the altar, for it was leading towards a story
of a baptism-related miracle; any such plans were thwarted when he was
interrupted by the second miracle. Only on Wednesday did Augustine fi-
nally bring his story as far as the font; he had four more days in the Octave
to res tore coherence to Easter.
The miracle at Hippo brings together several key themes of this paper.
Augustine's successive sermons invite us to consider the shifting locus of
authoriry inside the basilica, as he sought an appropriate response to the
drama; and although few bishops can have seen their dealings wirh their
newly baptized converts so spectacularly disrupted, the episode reminds us
of the intense and diverse expectations that attached to the Easter ceremony.
Few Easters, we might suspect, were ever entirely "ordinary"; this critical
culmination of the conversion process was correspondingly hard to choreo-
graph. The relationship between Augustine's homiletic texts and his subse-
quent commentary on the affair also brings into sharp focus the significance,
emphasized several times earlier, of the reshaping of conversion narratives in
their retelling. But above all, we should note Augustine's stubborn determi-
nation to maintain his train of thought. For much of this volume is con-
cerned ultimately wirh the resources available to individuals (and to
institutions) that might enable them to command attention, whether as
converts or instigators of conversion; and, no less important, to the limits of
these resources and the constraints affecting their application. All of the
figures discussed in this collection, whether a fourth-century emperor im-
posing a Christian vision upon a capital or his sixth-century successor im-
posing his upon distant provinces, whether bishops or apologists, whether
unrepentant theatergoers or defiant mourners of the unpopular dead, were
in some sense required to make a public commitment before, and win a
hearing from, an audience that might be enthusiastic, indifferent, or hos-
tile. The study of late antique conversion therefore has much to do with a
study of late antique modes of attention; which also requires-as each of the
papers in this volume demonstrates-a particular quality of attentiveness
from ourselves. If we are to identify the forces that acted upon the men and
women who stood up to declare a commitment, we need to heighten our
sensitivity to the nuances of the language-and to the contextual details of the
settings-in which they announced, demanded, or described such declarations.
NOTES
1. Greg. Naz. Gr. 2-44 (the monster); 117 (the shining flock).
2. M. J. Johnson, "Pagan-Christian Burial Practices of the Fourth Cen-
tury: Shared Tombs?" JEeS 5 (1997): 56-58.
3. E. Rebillard, In Hora Mortis: Evolution de la pastorale chretienne de la
rnort aux IVe et Ve sdes dans I'Gccident latin, BEFAR 284 (Rome, 1994).
4. J. Guyon, Le cirneti'ere aux deux lauriers: Recherehes sur les catacornbes
rornaines, BEFAR 264 (Rome, 1987). There is also now a comprehensive
account of the paintings in the catacomb, in J. G. Deckers, H. R. Seeliger,

and G. Mietke, Die Katakombe {{Santi Marcellino e Pietro": Repertorium der
Malereien, Roma sotteranea christiana 6 (Vatican City, 1987).
5. The discussion in Guyon, Le cimetiere, pp. 100-10 3, remains heavil y
influenced by the traditional model.
6. The circumstances are recorded only in the fourth-century poem by
Pope Damasus: A. Ferrua, Epigrammata Damasi (Rome, 1942), no. 28. Guyon,
Le cimeti'ere, pp. 104-2 I, discusses the physical setting.
7. For Constantine's basilica, see Guyon, Le cimetiere, pp. 27-63; also J.
Curran, Pagan City and Christian Capital: Rome in the Fourth Century (Oxford,
2000), 99-102.
8. For analysis of burials inside the basilica, see Guyon, Le cimetiere, pp.
268-7 1.
9. For the honor guard and royal trappings at the funeral of Helena, see
Eus. VC 3.47. I; for the provision of liturgical equipment, as recorded in the
Liber Pontificalis, see Guyon, Le cimetiere, p. 242.
10. Guyon, Le cimetiere, pp. 317-29.
Ir. For fourth-century developments see ibid., pp., 361-81, summariz-
ing the transformation at p. 36s: "de simple aire privee ... il devient un
lieu public." Much of this discussion is based on material associated with
the tomb of Lawrence, where--unlike at Peter and MarceHinus--there is
independent evidence of fourth-century devotional activity.
12. Jerome Comm. In Ezech. 40.5-13 (CCL 7S:556-67).
13. Particularly apposite here is Ramsay MacMuHen's lively evocation of
how "members of one group, assembling for their recoHections and celebra-
tions of an evening and under the genial influence of a fuH stomach and a
glass or more of wine, might look to their neighbors of another faith ... ":
Christianity and Paganism in the Fourth to Eighth Centuries (New Haven,
Conn., 1997), pp. 117- 18 .
14. For Damasus's interventions, see C. Pietri, Roma Christiana: Recherches
sur l'eglise de Rome, son organisation, sa politique, son ideologie, de Miltiade a Sixte
III (JI I-440), BEFAR 284 (Rome, 1976), pp. 595-624; cf. Pietri, "Dam-
ase, eveque de Rome," in Saecularia Damasiana: Atti deI Convegno Internazi-
onale per il XVI Centenario della morte di papa Damaso I, Studi di Antichita
Cristiana 39 (Vatican City, 1986), pp. 29-58.
15. Guyon, Le cimetiere, pp. 46-10, for Damasus's commemoration of
the martyrs Tiburtius and Gorgonius.
16. Curran, Pagan City and Christian Capital, p. 146.
17. For Damasus's inscription, see above, note 6; the pope's contribution
is fuHy discussed in Guyon, Le cimetiere, pp. 381-415.
18. Jerame's famous comment (Ep. 107.1: "movetur urbs sua sede") need
not, in its context, refer more broadly than to the contrast between the
papally led procession on the annual Feast of the Apostles, and the solemn
pagan rituals formerly conducted on the Capitol at the New Year. Another
canonical text-Prudentius Pe. 11.195-235 on the natale of Hippolytus-
describes an occasion closely linked with the annual feast of Lawrence, and
perhaps (in my view probably) conducted in the same basilica.
19. Guyon, Le cimeti'ere, pp. 381-82. MacMullen discusses the mensae in
Christianity and Paganism, pp. 63, I I 1.
20. Guyon, Le cimetiere, pp. 499-509, presents the evidence.
21. Peter Brown, The Cult 0/ the Saints (Chicago, 1981), p. 40.
22. Aug. Con! 6.2.2.
23. Procop. Wars 2.10.8.
24. VP 18: S. P. Brack and S. Ashbrook Harvey, Holy Women 0/ the Syrian
Orient (Berkeley, Calif., 1987), p. 47.
25 VP 24-3 0 .
26. For the testimony of Ps.-Martyrius on the effect of this technique
upon a different audience, at Constantinople, see F. Van Ommeslaeghe,
"Jean Chrysostome er le peuple de Constantinople," Analeeta Bollandiana 99
(19 81 ): 32 9-49.
27. J. Chr. Hom. 67 in Matth. 3 (PG 58:636-37).
28. Cod. Theod. 15.7.5; see above, p. 116 n. 25.
29. Amm. Mare. 14.6.19.
30. Ibid., 28-4.9. The sole manuscript is here defective. Where W. Sey-
farth follows the original editor Gelenius to read "meretricem"-Ammianus
Marcellinus: Res Gestae, vol. 2 (Leipzig, 1978), p. 78-the lacuna of four
letters after "m" also admits the conjecture "mimam."
3 I. I borrow the phrase, and the implied model of Roman social relations,
from J. Matthews, The Roman Empire 0/ Ammianus (London, 1988), 419-420.
32. Amm. Mare. 26.3.3.
33. Greg. Naz. Carm. 2.1.12-402-3. Palladius portrays Porphyry in Di-
alogus de Vita Iohann. Chrys. 16.
34. Jer. Contra Iohann. Hierolym. 8; Coll. Av. 1.9.
35. Amm. Mare. 27.3.12-13; Coll. Av. 1. For arecent analysis of the
episode, wirh bibliography, see Curran, Pagan City and Christian Capital,
pp. 137-4 2 .
36. Coll. Av. 1.5-7.
37. Ibid., 1.12. For the basilica/mausoleum complex at the site, see Pi-
etri, Roma Christiana, pp. 47-51; cf. Curran, Pagan City and Christian Cap-
ital, pp. 128-29.
SEEING AND B ELIEVING
38. Ferrua, Epigrammata Damasi, no. 37.

39. Justin Dial. Tryph. 2-7
40. Gregory notes only that he was not yet baptized when he sailed for
Athens to study: DVS 164-66.
41. Various relevant aspects are explored in G. Reale et al., eds., L'opera
letteraria di Agostino tra Cassiciacum e Milano: Agostino nelle terre di Ambrogio
(Palermo, 1987).
42. DVS 277-311.
43. Ibid., 312-44; cf. his explanation to Basil, Ep. 1.
44. P. Gallay, La vie de saint Gregoire de Nazianze (lyons, 1943), pp. 132-
86; J. Bernardi, Saint Gregoire de Nazianze: Le theologien et son temps (33-
390) (Paris, 1995), pp. 175-97
45. For Maximus see J. Mossay, "Note sur Heron-Maximus, ecrivain ec-
clesiastique," Analecta Bollandiana 100 (1982): 229-36; for Justin and Cre-
scens (Justin 2 Apo!. 3) see A. 1. Malherbe, "Justin and Crescens," in Christian
Teaching: Studies in Honor 0/ LeMoine Lewis, ed. E. Ferguson (Abilene, Kansas,
19 81 ), pp. 3 12 - 2 7.
46. For Gregory and the Anastasia, see now R. Snee, "Gregory Nazian-
zen's Anastasia Church: Arianism, the Goths, and Hagiography," Dumbarton
Oaks Papers 52 (1998): 157-96. Justin's lodgings are identified (and mud-
dled in transmission) in Acta Just. 3.3: H. Musurillo, The Acts 0/ the Chris-
tian Martyrs (Oxford, 1972), pp. xix, 44, 48. Gregory reports his mysterious
brush with the authorities at Constantinople in DVS 668-78.
47 Acta Just. 47
48. Tatian Oratio ad Graecos 29.
49. Ibid., 19
50. Irenaeus Adv. Haer. 1.28.1.
51. Eus. HE 4.18.
52. Jerome Ep. 52.8.
53. Pseudo-Nonnus Comm. in Greg. Naz. or. 39. For a useful introduction
to this work see now J. Nimmo Smith, A Christian's Guide to Greek Culture:
T he P seudo- N onnus Commentaries on Sermons 4, 5, 39 and 43 0/ Gregory 0/
Nazianzus, Translated Texts for Historians 37 (liverpool, 2001).
54. Justin I Apol. 24-2 5.
55. Ibid., 26; A. Wartelle, Saint Justin: Apologies (Paris, 1987), pp. 264-
65
56. For this chapter in Eunomius's career see R. P. Vaggione, Eunomius 0/
Cyzicus and the Nicene Revolution (Oxford, 2000), pp. 312-26.
57. For complementary assessments of the impact on Cappadocia of
Eustathius of Sebaste, see S. Elm, {{Virgins 0/ God": The Making 0/ Asceticism
in Late Antiquity (Oxford, 1994), pp. 106-36; P. Rousseau, Basil of Caesarea

(Berkeley, Calif., 1994), pp. 73-7 6, 99-102.
58. There are some shrewd re marks in F. Norris, Faith Gives Fullness to
Reasoning: The Five Theological Grations of Gregory Nazianzen (Leiden, 1991),
pp. 90-92, 146, 156, 163, 188,201: the implications deserve fuller explo-
ration.
59. I Apol. 26.
60. Ibid., 58.
61. DVS 1144-45, 1167-7.
62. Ibid., 1188-89,
63. Epiph. Sal. Panarion 42.1.2 (fourth-century Marcionists); 42.11 (trea-
tise against Marcion's books; reference to debate with Marcionists at
4 2 . 1 1.17).
64. T. Rajak, "Talking at Trypho: Christian Apologetic as Anti-Judaism
in Justin's Dialogue with Trypho the Jew," in Apologetics in the Roman Em-
pire: Pagans, lews, and Christians, ed. M. Edwards, M. Goodman, and S.
Price (Oxford, 1999).
65. For the chronological difficulties, see above, p. 25 n. 5.
66. M. Meslin, La fete des kalendes de janvier dans l'empire romain: Etude
d'un rituel de Nouvel An, Collection Latomus I 15 (Brussels, 1970).
67. J. Mossay, Les fetes de Noet et d'Epiphanie d'apres les sources litteraires
cappadocienes du IVe siede, Abbaye du Mont Cesar, Textes et etudes liturgiques
3 (Louvain, 1965), offers a prudent discussion of the possibilities.
68. The emperor is apostrophized in two surviving sermons: Gr. 36. I I,
37. 2 3.
69 Gr. 399.
70. Ibid., 40.19.
71. Just. I Apol. I; for textual difficulties here see Wartelle, Saint lustin,
pp. 3 0 -3 2 .
72. Eusebius HE 4.12 alters I Apol. I so that only Marcus is styled
"philosopher"; at 4.18.2 he claims that 2 Apol. was addressed not to the
senate but to Marcus Aurelius. An ingenious solution to the problem is
proposed by P. Parvis, "The Textual Tradition of Justin's Apologies: A Mod-
est Proposal," Studia Patristica 36 (2001): 54-60.
73. See my paper, "The Transformations of Imperial Churchgoing in the
Fourth Century," in Transformations in Late Antiquity, ed. M. Edwards and S.
Swain (Oxford, forthcoming).
74 Acta lust. 3-4
75 DVS 1495-9 6 .
76. Greg. Naz. Ep. 78-79.
77. The identical passages are Or. 45.3-9,26-27, matching Or. 38.7,-13,
14-15. For the circumstances of delivery see J. Bernardi, La pridication des
Peres Cappadociens: Le predicateur et son auditoire (Paris, 1968), pp. 246-5.
78. Greg. Naz. Ep. 173.
79. J. Matthews, Western Aristocracies and Imperial Court (Oxford, 1975),
pp. 127-45, beautifully evokes the headstrong religiosity of the Theodosian
court.
80. Amb. De Spir. Sanct. I. 17-18.
8I. For the context see McLynn, Ambrose 0/ Milan: Church and Court in a
Christian Capital (Berkeley, Calif., 1994), pp. I20-2I.
82. There are several useful recent discussions of Justinian's Aptharto-
docetism: K. Adshead, "Justinian and Apthartodocetism," in Ethnicity and
Culture in Late Antiquity} ed. S. Mitchell and G. Greatrex (London, 2000),
pp. 331-36; M. van Esbroek, "The Apthartodocetic Edict of Justinian and
the Armenian Background," Studia Patristica 33 (1997): 578-85.
83. For recent discussion see P. W. 1. Walker, Holy City} Holy Places?
(Oxford, 1990), pp. 42-43; J. E. Taylor, Christians and the Holy Places: The
Myth 0/ Jewish-Christian Origins (Oxford, 1993), p. 31 I.
84. T. D. Barnes, Constantine and Eusebius (Cambridge, Mass., 1981), pp.
110-11; for a different reading, A. Louth, "The Date of Eusebius' Historia
Ecclesiastica} " JThS 41 (1990): 118-20.
85 Eus. VC 3.7.
86. Eus. De laud. Const. 13.7.2; Dem. Evang. 3.6.32.8.
87. Eus. Comm. In Ps. 23. I IOI.7
88. R. R. R. Smith, "The Public Image of the Emperor Licinius," JRS 87
(1997): 170- 202 , esp. pp. 19 1-94.
89. Ibid., pp. 17 1-73.
90. Eus. HE 9. I I; Greg. Naz. Or. 4.96.
9I. Eus. HE 8.13.
92. Two recent discussions (with reference to previous controversies) are,
respectively, O. Nicholson, "Gaelum potius intuens: Lactantius and aStatue of
Constantine," Studia Patristica 34 (2001): 177-96; and J. Elsner, "From the
Culture of Spolia to the Cult of Saints: The Arch of Constantine and the
Genesis of Late Antique Forms," PBSR} n.s. 55 (2000): 149-84. See also
Curran, Pagan City and Christian Capital} pp. 76-9.
93. M. Culhed, Conservator Urbis Suae: Studies in the Politics and Propagan-
da 0/ the Emperor Maxentius (Stockholm, 1994); H. A. Drake, Constantine and
the Bishops: The Politics o/Intolerance (Baltimore, 2000), p. 170, aptly notes
Maxenti us's resourcefulness "in reaching out to new consti tuencies. "
94. P. Verduchi, "Columna Phocae," in Lexicon Topographicum Urbis Ro-
mae} ed. M. Steinby, vol. I (Rome, 1993) p. 307.
SEEING ,AND BELIEVING
95. Just. I Apol. 56.

96. Apul. Met. I I .24: "ad instar Solis ... et in vieem simulaeri."
97. Greg. Naz. Gr. 43.52.
98. MeLynn, "Gregory Nazianzen's Basil: The Literary Construetion of
a Christian Friendship," Studia Patristica 37 (2001): I8I.
99. Aug. Conf 8.2.5; the rite is deseribed in more detail by Rufinus,
Comm. in symb. Apost. 3.
100. Eus. VC 4. 62-6 3.
10 I. VP 14-15 .
102. Eus. VC I.28-32.
103. Eus. SC 18.1-3.
104. Mereurius: Amm. Mare. 15.3.7. For an example of a fatally empur-
pled dream, see Socrates HE 4.31.
105. P. Cox Miller, Dreams in Late Antiquity: Studies in the Imagination 0/
a Culture (Prineeton, N.)., 1994).
106. Greg. Naz. Gr. 7.2 I, 43.80; for the latter passage see MeLynn,
"Gregory Nazianzen's Basil," p. 183.
107. Amm. Mare. 20.5.10, 2I.I4.2, 25.2.3-4.
108. For some examples see Sozomen HE 6.2; for the intensity of the
noeturnal offensive waged by Christi an leaders (a likely stimulus to vision-
ary experienee), cf. Greg. Naz. Gr. 18.32.
109. Theodoret HE 5.24.
110. Ibid., 5.6.
I I I. Ambrose Ep. extra coll. 10 [5 I}. 14: after the massacre of Thessalon-
iea, Ambrose claimed to have been warned in avision against admitting
Theodosius to the Eueharist.
112. Proeop. Buildings I.7.6.
I I 3 . P roeop. Secret History 12.22.
114. Eus. VC 4.58-60.
I 15. For the moving of Constantine's body, the ensuing riot, and the
downfall of the bishop responsible, see Socrates HE 2.38.35-43, with dis-

eussion by G. Dagron, Constantinople: La naissance d'zme capitale: Constantino-
pIe et ses institutions de 330 a 45 I (Paris, 1974), pp. 404-5.
116. Passio Artemii 17; see D. Woods, 'The Date of the Translation of the
Relies of SS. Luke and Andrew to Constantinople,' Vigiliae Christianae 45
(1991), 286-92.
117. Proeop. Buildings I.4.IO.
118. Proeop. Wars 3.10.19-20, 12.3; 2I.I7-25.
119. Averil Cameron, Procopius and the Sixth Century (London, 1985), pp.
33-46, diseusses "The Diseourse of Proeopius"; cf. pp. 114-15, for the
Vandal- expedition and its assoeiated dreams.
I20. Doxa is applied to Christian orthodoxy in e.g. Wars 3. 2I , 5.5.9, to

heresy in 3.2.5, 3.6. I, 8 -4. I I; the grammar of conversion from true to
heretical doxa at 3.8-IO and 6.6.I8 exhibits parallels to the pagan/Christian
equivalent. For classical usage of diaita see, for example, Thuc. I.6, 2.I6.
I2I. Procop. Buildings 6.2.I9.
I22. Ibid., 6.2.23.
I23. Procop. Wars 6.I4.33.
I24. Ibid., 6.25.IO.
I25. Ibid., 8.3.I9. Procopius reveals the subordination only when the
Abasgi revolt: ibid., 8.9.6.
I26. Ibid., I.I2.3.
I 27. For the complexities of Iberian religion see D. Braund, Georgia in
Antiquity: A History 0/ Colchis and Transeaueasian Iberia 550 B.C.-A.D. 562

(Oxford, I994), pp. 26I, 282-84.
I28. Procop. Wars 2.28.26.
I29. See ibid., 2.28.27-28 on Lazi-Roman trade. The incoherence of
Procopius's analysis overall is emphasized by Braund, Georgia in Antiquity!
pp. 296-9 8 .
I30. Braund, Georgia in Antiquity! pp. 292-93, emphasizes Zoroastrian-
ism's "deep roots in the his tory of the region, no doubt strengthened under
recent Persian suzerainty."
I3I. Procop. Wars 2.I5.6-IO, blaming the generals Peter and lohn Tzi-
bus, with Braund, Georgia in Antiquity! pp. 293-95.
I32. Procop. Buildings I.2.I-I2, with C. Mango, "The Columns of ]us-
tinian and his Successors," in Mango, Studies on Constantinople (Aldershot,
I993), chap. IO, pp. I-20.
I33. Chron. Pase. s.a. 53I.
I34. Ibid., s.a. 533; R. Krautheimer, Three Christian Capitals (Berkeley,
Calif., I983), p. 62, envisages "a gathering of the faithful without benefit
of clergy."
I35. Constant. Porphyr. De Caerim. Aulae Byzant. I.I 23-24; cf. I.Io.3
(Easter Monday), I.30.3 (Annunciation Day), 2.I9 (Triumphal Celebrations).
C. Mango, "Constantine's Porphyry Column and the Chapel of St. Constan-
tine," Deltion tes ehristianikes arehaiologikes IO (I980-8I): pp. I03-IO; re-
printed in Mango, Studies on Constantinople! chap. 4.
I36. T. F. X. Noble, The Republie 0/ Saint Peter: The Birth 0/ the Papal
State 680-825 (Philadelphia, I984), pp. I34-37.
I37. R. Krautheimer, Rome: Profile 0/ a City! 312-138 (Princeton, N.].,
I980), pp. 83-87. By the eighth century Constantine's basilica on the Via
Tiburtana had acquired an association with Mary; Pope Leo IV's decision in
the mid-ninth century to host the newly introduced Feast of the Assumption
there can be seen as an attempt to find a use for a redundant building. Cf.
R. Davis, The Lives 0/ the Ninth-Century Popes, Translated Texts for Historians
20 (Liverpool, 1995), p. 121 and n. 42.
138. Guyon, Le cimeti'ere, pp. 439-55, arguing (at pp. 452-54) for con-
struction by the same Pope Honorius who redesigned St. Agnes.
139. Ibid., pp. 47 8- 82 .
140. Suggested respectively by P. E. Dutton, Charlemagne's Courtier: The
Complete Einhard (Peterborough, Ont., 1998), p. xxiv, and Guyon, Le ci-
metiere, pp. 480-81.
141. Translatio et miracula 1.I, 2-6.
142. For Deusdona's operations, see P. J. Geary, Furta Sacra: Thefts 0/
Relics in the Central Middle Ages (Princeton, N.]., 1978), pp. 45-49.
143. Cf. ibid., pp. 119-20; Geary suggests elsewhere that Deusdona was
in fact acting with papal approval: Living with the Dead in the Middle Ages
(Ithaca, N.Y, 1994), p. 190. It is probably not coincidence that the pope's
appearance in Translatio et miracula, at 4.16, reduces hirn to a fellow bene-
ficiary with Einhard of Deusdona's largesse. The papal envoys are reported
in Translatio et miracula 1.7.
144. Translatio et miracula 1.5.
145. For Walahfrid Strabo's remarkable poem on the equestrian statue of
Theoderic (with Einhard still harmoniously paired-in 829-with his riyal
Hilduin), see M. W. Herren, "The 'De imagine Tetrici' of Walahfrid Strabo:
Edition and Translation," Journal 0/ Medieval Latin I (1991): 118-39.
146. P. E. Dutton, The Politics 0/ Dreaming in the Carolingian Empire
(Lincoln, Neb., 1994), with useful discussion of Einhard's saints at pp. 91-
97
147. Translatio et miracula 3.13: the contents ofRatleic's booklet "should
be told in another place than here."
148. Ep. 13-15.
149. Translatio et miracula 2.8.
IS0. See in general McLynn, "The Other Olympias: Gregory Nazianzen
and the Family of Vitalianus," Zeitschrift fr Antikes Christentum 2 (1998):
227-4 6 .
I 5 I. For this interpretation see McLynn, "Gregory Nazianzen's Basil," p.
18 3.
152. Annals 0/ Pulda s.a. 874; Dutton, Politics 0/ Dreaming, pp. 219-22.
153. Aug. Conf 9. 6 . 1 4.
154. It remains unclear how many of Augustine's "Platonist" friends at
Milan were baptized. At least one fellow Thagastean would attach hirns elf
to Augustine after the latter's baptism: ibid., 9.8.17.
ISS. -Ibid., 9. 6 . 14.
15 6 . Ibid., 9.7.15.
157. An excellent study is now available: W. Harmless, Augustine and the
Catechumenate (Collegeville, Minn., 1995). A useful introduction to Augus-
tine's theology of baptism in its historical context is P. Cramer, Baptism and
Change in the Early Middfe Ages c. 200-C. I I50 (Cambridge, 1993), pp. 87-
12 9.
158. Einhard, Lift 0/ Charlemagne, 24.
159. Aug. Civ. Dei 22.8-4.
160. Ibid.
161. On the question of topography raised by this passage, see V Saxer,
Morts, martyrs, reliques en A/rique chretienne aux premiers si'ecles: Les temoinages de
Tertullien, Cyprien et Augustin a fa fumiere de l'archeofogie a/ricaine (Paris, 1980),
pp. 179-8 1.
162. "Conversi ad dominum": see F. Dolbeau, "Sermons inedits de saint
Augustin preches en 397 (5ieme serie)," RevBen 10 4 (1994): 72-76; Con!
9.2.3 (faces being turned towards Augustine); 10.35.35 ("ad se convertit
illa venatio").
163. Aug. Civ. Dei 22.8.23: "conversi sunt eo."
164. Serm. 320-24, of which Serm. 322 is the fibellus read out in church
two days after the miracle.
165. Serm. 323-4: '''Dixi, proloquar': nondum prolocutus sum." Augus-
tine had made but a perfunctory plea for prayers for the sister, before the
reading of the fibellus (Serm. 322, ad init.); but part at least of the audience
were evidently stirred by her visible suffering to accompany her to the
martyrium.
166. Ibid., 324.
167. Ibid., 320: "Date veniam, quia diuturnum non reddo sermonem:
nostis etenim meam fatigationem."
168. For discussion and references, see Harmless, Augustine and the Cat-
echumenate, pp. 3 I 3- 15 .
NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS
Susanna Elm is Professor of History at the University of California at Berke-

ley. She is the author of Virgins 0/ God. T he Making 0/ Asceticisms in Late
Antiquity (1994, 1996) and, with Eric Rebillard, the editor of Orthodoxyl
History (2000).
Anthony Grafton teaches European his tory at Princeton University. His

books includeJoseph Scaliger (1983-93), The Footnote: A Curious History (1997),
and Bring Out Your Dead (2001).
Richard Lim is Associate Professor of History at Smith College. He is the

author of Public Disputation, Power, and Social Order in Late Antiquity (1995)
and is currently writing a book on public spectacles and civic transforma-
tion in late antiquity.
Rebecca Lyman is the Samuel Garrett Professor of Church History at The

Church Divinity School of the Pacific in The Graduate Theological Union in
Berkeley. She is the author of Christology and Cosmology: Models 0/ Divine Aaivity
in Origen, Eusebius, and Athanasius (1993) and Early Christian Traditions (1999).
Michael Maas is Associate Professor of History at Rice U niversity. He is the

author of John Lydus and the Roman Past: Antiquarianism and Politics in the
Age 0/Justinian (1992), Readings in Late Antiquity: A Sourcebook (2000), and
Exegesis and Empire in the Early Byzantine Mediterranean: J unillus Africanus
and the Instituta Regularia Divinae Legis (2002).
Neil McLynn is Professor in the Faculty of Law at Keio University, Japan.

He is the author of Ambrose 0/ Milan: Church and Court in a Christian Capital
(1994)
Kenneth Mills is a historian of colonial Latin America and the early modern
Spanish world at Princeton University, where he is the Director of the
Program in Latin American Studies. His recent work includes Idolatry and
27 1
Its Enemies: Colonial Andean Religion and Extirpation, 1640-1750 (1997) and,
with William B. Taylor and Sandra Lauderdale Graham, Colonial Latin
America: A Documentary History (2002).
Eric Rebillard is a researcher at the Centre National de la Recherche Scien-

tifique in Paris. He is the author of In hora mortis: Evolution de la pastorale
chretienne de la mort aux IVe et Ve sdes dans f'Occident latin (1994) and Religion
et sepulture: L'iglise, les vivants et les morts dans l'Antiquiti tardive (forthcoming,
203)
Julia M. H. Smith is Reader in Mediaeval History at the University of St.

Andrews. She is the author of Province and Empire: Brittany and the Carolin-
gians (r992) and of many articles on saints' cults and hagiography in late
antiquity and the early Middle Ages. Her After Rome: Western Europe, c. 500-
1000 will shortly be published by Oxford University Press.
Raymond Van Dam is Professor of History at the University of Michigan.

His books include Leadership and Community in Late Antique Gaul (1985),
Saints and Their Mirades in Late Antique Gaul (1993), and Kingdom 0/ Snow:
Roman Rule and Greek Culture in Cappadocia (2002). Families and Friends in
Late Roman Cappadocia and Becoming Christian: The Conversion 0/ Roman Cap-
padocia will be published in 2003.
INDEX
Abraham, 68 Armenia, 169-71

Acacius, 169 Artemeis, Aurelia, 65
Acta 0ustin Martyr), 43 Asclepius, 238
Acta Pelagiae, 122n86 Assimilation, 44; away from cuits, 41;
Acta Sanctorum, 91 cultural transformation and, 157;
Acts 0/ the Apostles, 94 degrees of, 41; early presence of
Adalhuno of Nilkheim, 196 problems with, 48; strategies of, 37;
Adelphius, 34n94 of subject peoples, 169; toward
Admonitio generalis (Charlemagne), 190 culture, 41
Ad Scapulam, 69 Asrrology, 13, 14
Aeneid (Virgil), 158 Attis, 63; cult of, 7
Aeschylus, 4 Augustine, 7, 34n97, 236, 247, 254-61;
"Against All the Heresies" 0ustin Martyr), conversion of, 1, 27n20; denial of
239 sacraments to prostitutes, 87; Dolbeau
Against the Spectacles (Tertullian), 101 Sermons of, 110; effort to change the
Agathias of Myrina, 169, 171-74, 178, habits of Christians, 190; model of
187n88 conversion by, 236
Alamanni people, 171, 187n88; aspects of Augustus (Emperor), 109
society, 171-72 Authority: biblical, 52n12; centralized, 38;
Alberic, 205 Christian, 225; conflicts over, 38;
Alexander of Alexandria (Bishop), 139 disruption of normative structures of,
Alexander the Great, 159, 166 37; early presence of problems with, 48;
Alienation, 37 exegetical, 38; imperial, 38, 85;
Amand de Mendieta, Emmanuel, 31n61 negotiation of, 49; philosophieal, 45;
Ambrose (Bishop), 99, 243, 258 religious, 225; spiritual, 40; subversion
Ammianus Marcellinus, 128, 234, 248 of, 45; theologieal, 38
Ammonius, 41
Antoninus Pius, 241 Bacchus, 62
Apollo, 127, 135 Baptism: actualization of moments of
Apologetics, 37 fusion in, 17; administration of, 17;
Apology 0ustin Martyr), 37, 39, 45, 238, authentie, 53n14; benefits of, 34n94; of
241 blood, 18; child, 18; confirmation and,
Apostles, 7 6; cosmology and, 2; death bed, 88, 89,
Apostolic Constitutions, 24, 101 99; delayed, 33n79, 99; denial of, 89;
Apthartodocetism, 243 differing notions of, 22, 23; as elite
Apuleius, 246, 247 event, 2-3, 20-21; as equivalent of
Archytas, 62 heavenly citizenship, 14; figurative, 17;
Aristeas, Aurelius, 66 Gregory of Nazianzus and, 1-24;
Ariston of Syracuse, 63 illumination and, 17; incarnation and,
Aristotle, 185n69 16, 17; into incarnation of ]esus Christ,
Arius, 55n31, 139, 141, 142 6; incentives for, 99; as initiation into
273
274 INDEX
Baptism (continued) crowning tombs with roses, 66; as

mystery, 24; interpretations of meaning family affair, 61, 62, 63, 68, 72, 227,
of, 21; of ]esus Christ, 5, 25n8; 228; for freed slaves, 71; funerary
language of, 27n22; late antiquity gardens, 63; Greco-Roman, 66; hypogea
catechumens and, 98-104; Lent and, and, 65, 67; individual distinction and,
100, 101; light and, 33n78; markers of, 62; individual sepulchres and, 63;
20; of the martyrs, 18; by inscriptions and, 61; ]ewish/Non-
metropolitans, 21; as moment, 20; new ]ewish, 64-69; in late Roman Empire,
faith and, 18; as opportunity to exhibit 61-74; mortuary funds for, 72, 73;
faith, 247; order of celebration of, 6; of necessity of conversion to cult and, 62;
pagans, 211; of the poor, 18, 34n95; role of synagogue in, 67; separate, 65;
preparation for, 18, 98-99, 100; as site selection, 61, 62; sites for, 227
process, 6, 20; programs of correction Byzantium: Christi an identity of, 152; as
after, x; purification and, 3, 17, 18, 20, continuation of Roman empire, 178n2;
21, 33n78, 33n82; as rebirth, 18, resiliency of, 152; sense of identity,
27n22, 33n81; religious conversion and, 160; social transformation of, 177;
1-24; renunciation of the devil and, treatment of foreigners, 159
10 1; rivalries of, 20-24; salvation and,
17; of scaenici, 115n23; shortening of Calderon, Maria, 120n61
preparation for, 99; social status and, Calendars, Roman, 6
247; spiritual, 17, 18; sponsorship for, Cameron, Averil, 40, 171
103; of stage performers, x, 84-111, Capitulatio de partibus Saxoniae
225; subsequent conduct and, 102, 103; (Charlemagne), 71
of tears, 18; for those in public office, Cappadocian Fathers, 5, 159, 259, 260
33n84; transformation through, 187n94; Carneades, 13-14, 31n61
writing and, 19 Carolingian era, 191-212
Barbarians: change and, 153; communal Cassiodorus, 108
identities of, 154; in ethnographie Catacombs, 229; Beth She'arim, 67;
writing, 155; exclusion of women from Domitilla, 72; ]ewish, 67; La
succession, 169-70; given citizenship by Magdalena, 65; pagan motifs in, 79n52;
Romans, 154; imperial rule and, 153; Via Labicana, 230; Via Latina, 227;
legal reform and, 169-71; Villa Randanini, 64, 79n52
Romanization of, 157, 158 Catechumens: baptism in late antiquity,
Barnes, T. D., 133 98-104; baptism of tears for, 18;
Basilides (Bishop), 70 instruction of, 6; Pelagia, 84
Basil of Caesarea, 2, 99, 246 Celsus, 45, 46, 48, 51n8
Baugulf (Ab bot), 192 Cemeteries, 64. See also Catacombs; EI
Beaucamp, ]oelle, 108 Ibrahimiya, 66; Gamart, 67; "]ewish,"
Being: formation of, 16; possession by 65; lack of control of, 227; private, 64;
God, 15 Via Labicana, 228
Benedict of Aniane, 200 Change: capability for, 6; cultural, 152-
Bhabha, Homi, 37, 58n59 78; religious, 191, 211, 212n5
Black Damasus, 235 Charlemagne, 71, 190, 193, 196, 215n18,
Boniface, 196 258
Brakke, D., 41 Christianity: acculturation to local custom
Brent, A., 41 by, 194; appropriate, 1%; archaie, 191;
Brown, Peter, 27n20, 230 assumptions on, 41; baptism and, 17;
Buildings (Procopius), 163-67, 184n60, burial and, 69-71; conflict within, 38;
243, 250, 251, 253 confrontation with false belief in, 238;
Burial: Christian, 69-71; collective graves contrast with Hellenism, 36, 37, 43,
and, 62, 63; conversion and, 61-74; 47, 48, 52n12; convergence/divergence
INDEX 275
with Judaism, 50n2; conversion of 153; integrated, 153; mainstream, 41;

Tzani people, 163-69; correct, 190, non-Roman, 156; Pythagorean, 62; true,
192, 211, 212n5; cultural change and, 48
152-78; diversity of forms of, :;On2; Confessions (Augustine), 7, 236, 247, 259
emperors and, 243-54; establishment of Confirrnation: baptism and, 6
as religio licita, 99; ethnography and, Constantine and Ettsebius (Barnes), 133
152-78; expansion of, 133; forced Constantine (Emperor): absence of
conversion to, 160, 167; funerary Christian allusion in statue of, 128;
separatism and, 69; homemade, 236; association with bishops, 139;
imperial, 160; integration with state autobiography of, 127-30; batde with
ideology, 159, 160-69; intellectual Licinius, 134, 135, 136; in Bethlehem,
origins of, 42; limited reach of formal 139; Christian persecution and, 131;
ecclesiastical structures of, 235-43; commitment to Christianity, 244-45;
medieval, 191; mimicry and, 45; comparison with father, 131, 132;
multiplicity in, 38, 41; ordinary, 197; concern with loyalty of troops, 138;
orthodox, 46, 49; paradigms of change conversion of, 85, 98-99, 127-48;
through conversion in, 159; persecution divine support for, 136; ideologies of
of, 53n14, 130; philosophy and, 44; legitimation of, 135; in Jerusalem, 139,
pluralities in, 211; predominance of, 140, 143; life of, 134-37; links with
154; prescriptive, 224; Roman, 153; Apollo, 138; meaning of bronze statue
self-identity of, 36; slow adaptation to, of, x, 145-48; meeting with Eusebius,
85-86; spread of, 194; as sum of 131; moments of crisis for, 134, 135,
ancient wisdom, 42; survival of Roman 136, 13 7; personal acceptance of
plurality by, 40; as third race, 52n12; Christianity, 131; relationship with
traditional narrative of, 36, 40; as truth, Jesus Christ, 139, 140; sequence of
58n57; as work in progress, 41 conversion, 134; significance of reign of,
Christianization: correction and, 190; 133; statue of, 127, 128, 145-48, 246;
emendation and, 190; ethnographie story of, 137-41; in tetrarchie order,
writing and, x; in late antiquity, 85-86; 246; triumphal arch at Rome and, 136;
limits of, 91; nature of, 85-86; process universality of imperial rule of, 128;
of persuasion in, 86; scope of, 85-86; views on paganism, 132, 133, 135,
stage performers, imperviousness to, 84 136; visionary status of, 134, 135, 136,
Chronicle (Eusebius), 143 137, 138
Chronographia (Malalas), 93 Constantinople: Church of Holy Wisdom,
Chrysostom, John, 11, 94, 99, 100, 102, 127; Church of the Holy Aposdes, 127,
103, 111, 119n49, 232, 233 145; development as center of Christian
Church of the Holy Sepulchre, 139, 140, community, 159; Forum of, 127;
143 Hippodrome, 127, 128; statue of
Citizenship: gradations of, 154; granted to Constantine in, 127, 128, 145-48
all in Roman empire, 158; heavenly, 14, Constantius (Emperor), 107, 130, 131,
24; inscription and, 10; Roman, 154; 132
for Tzani people, 169 Constitutio Antoniniana, 158, 169
City 0/ God (Augustine), 258 Contra lvIarcellum (Eusebius), 142-43
Claudius Gothicus (Emperor), 135 Conversion: baptism and, 1-24; burial
Clement, 32n69, 55n31 and, 61-74; to Christianity, 53n14, 69-
Clifford, James, 152 71, 73; community knowledge of,
Column of Phocas, 246 81n73; complete, IX; conscious choice
Community: barbarian, 156; Christian and, 26n17; control of, 225; defining,
imperial, 159; cult of, 48; defining, 41; 4, 7; differing meanings of, 225; as
episcopal, 55n31; of faith, 154, 156; illumination, 1; of individuals, 84;
under Erankish kings, 194; imperial, inscriptions and, 1-24; internal change
INDEX
Conversion (continued) inclusion, 154; interaction, 171-74;

and, 26n17; to Judaism, 64; as metanoia, interconnections, 44; multiplicity, 38;
6; narratives, 198-99; negotiations over, necessities, 42; osmosis, 166; regression,
87; of Paul, 7; as personal event, ix; 166; relativism, 171-74;
philosophieal, 5 3n14; private/public transformation, 156, 157, 161, 165,
aspects of, 129; as problem of 166, 171
Hellenization, 36-50; as process, 2, 6, Culture: classical, 190; Coptic, 183n42;
7, 8; as reorientation of the soul, 7; as generalizations about, 39; Greek, 39,
response to particular situations, 129; as 41, 166; Greek li terary, 157; Hellenie ,
salvation through continuous adherence, 41; of origin, 159; religious, 191;
1; self-representation and, 129; sequence Roman, 152; Syriac, 183n42
of, 134; of stage performers, 84-111; Cumont, Franz, 61
texts of, 226; tranquil process of, 27n20 Cybele, 63, 68, 71; cult of, 7
Correctio. See Correction Cyprian of Carthage, 70, 71, 225, 250
Correction, 189, 190; Christianization Cyril of Alexandria, 4
and, 190; discipline of morals and, 192; Cyril of Jerusalem, 100, 101
Einhard and, 192; grounding in Roman
legislative tradition, 214n16; interior, Damasus (Pope), 229, 230, 234, 235, 254,
202; relics and, 201; religious practice 262n6
and, 197; route to, 204; vocabulary of, Daube, David, 107
214n15, 214n16 Declamations, 13, 31n57; advocacy
Cosmology: Apollinarist, 22; Arian, 2, 21, training in, 13
22, 24; competing, 2; differing De Idololatria (Tertullian), 69
personalizations of Christ in, 23; Delehaye, H., 69
Eunomian, 2, 24; Messalian, 2; Demophilus (Bishop), 5, 21, 23
moments of change in, 6; Neo-Platonic, Demosthenes, 105
23; Novatian, 2, 21, 24; Platonic, 3, 6, De Vita Sua (Gregory of Nazianzus), 235
15, 23; rivalries of, 20-24; Sabellian, Dialogtle (Justin Martyr), 43
22; understanding of, 23 Diocletian (Emperor), 88, 130, 131, 138,
Cosmos: interaction with divinity, 15 246
Council of Antioch, 141, 142 Discourse: civil, 60n81; cultural
Council of Nicaea, 131, 137, 139, 142, ambivalence of orthodox, 48; dominant,
144, 244 51n7; moral, 91; of order, 108; public,
Crescens the Cynic, 237 104; of splitting, 60n81
Cults: of Attis, 7; burial requirements of, Disobedience: salvation and, 16
61-64; commitment asked by, 61; Divinity: calculators of, 21; of Holy
conflict with families of members and, Spirit, 22; interaction with cosmos, 15;
61; of Cybele, 7, 68, 71; diffusion of, interpretation of, 14-16; light and, 17;
62; funerary inscriptions and, x; material and, 23; nature of, 14-16
funerary practices of, 62; of Genesius, Dolbeau Sermons (Augustine), 110
118n39; immorality of, 45; of Isis, 7, "Donation of Constantine," 254
71, 246; local, 38; of martyrs, 230; of Drake, H. A., 133
Mithras, 7, 68; mystery, 7, 61-64; new, Dujarer, Michel, 98
61-64; Oriental, 61-64; perseeuted, 37; Durkheim, Emile, 191
public, 63, 201; relic, 190; saints', 190,
205, 212n5 Ecclesiastical History (Eusebius), 130, 143
Cultural: ambivalence, 48; centrality, 156; Education: bilingual memorization
change, 152-78; definition, 175; exercises in, 12; competitive displays in,
description, 154; differentiation, 154, 12; legacy of, 12; mimicry and, 31n59;
155; expression, 39; generalizations, 39; representation of character and, 13;
his tory, 191; identity, 159, 171, 17 3; Roman, 12; speech and, 13
INDEX 277
Einhard, 225, 226, 254-61; abandonment Fredriksen, Paula, 7

of Michelstadt by, 200; at Fulda monastery, 196, 197; location, 197;
Charlemagne's court, 193; conflict with saints' shrines at, 197
Hilduin, 202, 204; grants from Louis Funerary garden, 63
the Pious, 193; influence of, 193;
integrity of, 192; Roman martyrs and, Galerius (Emperor), 130, 131; edicts of
189-212; strategies of, 201 toleration by, 130
Elliott, T. G., 133, 136 Genesis: adaptation of, 3; Gregory of
Elm, Susanna, IX, 1-24, 224, 225, 235, Nazianzus on, 15; illumination and, 16
238, 240, 241, 257 George of Pisidia, 177
Elllendatio. See Emendation Germany: early Christianity in, 196-212;
Emendation, 190; Christianization and,. paganism in, 197; relics in, x, 189-212;
190; Einhard and, 192; of evil ways, Roman Empire and, 194
190; politics of, 189-212; vocabulary Gideon, 68
of, 214n15 Gleason, Maude, 39
Enlightenment, 191 Glykon, P. Ailios, 66, 78n47
Entzattberttng, 191 Gnosticism, 40, 48
Ephiphanius of Salamis, 181n17 God: creation of universe by, 15; demand
Epiphany, 25n8, 240 for purity by, 17; links to man, 17;
Epitaphs, 8; Greek as language of, 80n66 possession of being by, 15; as supreme
Essence: divine, 23; implication of light, 16; as three limitless beings, 15;
difference in, 23 timelessness of, 15
Ethnographic writing, x; Christianization Graffiti, 9
and, x Grafton, Anthony, ix-x
Ethnography: Christianity and, 152-78; Gratian (Emperor), 88, 89
classical, 152, 154, 156, 176, 188nl13; Gregory IV (Pope), 255
cultural change and, 152-78; Gregory of Nazianzus, IX, 224, 226, 234,
descriptions in, 157; early Byzantine, 235-43, 259; on baptism, 14-24; as
152-78; heresy and, 181n17; law and, bishop of Constantinople, 4, 25n5;
159; literary, 154, 155; range of topics classical canon of, 238; on divinity, 14-
in, 157; Roman, 152-53, 156-58; 16; on Emperor Julian, 12; on the Fall,
secular genre of, 156 32n69; on heaven, 16; idiosyncratic
Euelpistus, 237 nature of, 5; on illumination, 16-17;
Eugenius III (Pope), 205 impact of, 237; on incarnation, 14-16;
Eunapius, 128 minority views of, 2-3, 5, 20; orations
Eunomius, 21, 23, 24 of, 4-7, 14-24; seen as philosopher, 5;
Eusebius, 39, 129, 139, 140, 155, 243- stridency of, 240; terminology of light
54; biographical sketch, 130-34; of, 16; as "The Theologian," 4;
heretical status of, 141; knowledge of understanding of illumination, 6; use of
Justin Martyr, 237; meeting with imprinting, 6; use of inscription, 6
Constantine, 131; theology of, 141-44; Gregory of Nyssa, 99
thinks of Constantine in terms of Gruen, Erich, 39
persecution, 130, 131 Guyon, Jean, 228
the Fall, 16; Gregory of Nazianzus on, 32n69 Hadrian (Emperor), 38

Feast of the Apostles, 263n18 Hairesis, 46, 49; demonization of, 47
Feast of the Assumption, 268n137 Heaven: as divine sphere, 16; as state of
First Apology Gustin Martyr), 38, 42 being, 16
Frankish people, 171, 187n88, 189, 255; Hebrew law: polytheistic practice and, 45
continuation of sub-Roman culture of, Hebrew Scripture: authority of, 46;
187n97;' descriptions, 172 monotheism of, 45
INDEX
Heden (Duke), 196 loeal, 43, 51; male, 95-98, 110;

Helena (Empress), 107, 228-29, 248 multiple, 36, 37, 42; personal, 50n6;
Helios, 127 politieal, 194; provineial, 154; regional,
Hellenism, x, 36; ehallenge to Roman 154; religious, 38; Roman, 38, 42,
dominanee by, 43; eontrast with 50n6, 154; self, 41; shaping, 36;
Christianity, 36, 37,43,47,48, 52n12; subjeetive, 154; systematieity of, 42;
goals of, 42-43; mimicry of, 45; universalizing, 42
morality and, 46; politieal expansion of, Illumination, 16-17, 242; baptism and,
38; positive attributes of, 46; 17; Genesis and, 16; language of, 6,
rationalism of, 40; refraeting power of, 35n105; oeeurrenee of, 8; proeess of, ix;
44; Roman, 39 as purifieation, 17; terminology of, 1;
Herades, 166 true transformation and, 2
Heradius (Emperor), 28n28, 152, 153, Imperialism: legaeies of, 36
160, 177, 178n2 Inearnation, 5, 14-16, 242; baptism and,
Hereules, 138 7, 16, 17; as eentral event, 16; of Jesus
Heresiology, 37, 48; eonstruetion of Christ, 6-7; of the Logos, 16, 45; as
apologeties and, 45 proof of Son's inferiority, 23
Heresy: assoeiation with falsity of, 46; as Inseriptions: on bronze tablets, 9, 10;
diagnostie eategory, 155; dissent as, 45; citizenship and, 10; on eoins, 27n25;
error as, 48; ethnography and, 181n17; eonversion and, 1-24; eult adherenee
magie and, 46, 50; philosophy and, 37, and, 63; epitaphs, 8; funerary, x, 61,
47,50 63; graffiti, 9; interior, 62; Jewish,
Hermaios, M. Aurelios, 65 78n48; language of, 35n105; life
Hermeneumata, 12 hierarehies and, 10; as means of
Herosotus, 156 eommunication, 8; misreading of, 247;
Hetener, Felix, 64 offieial aets and doeuments as, 9, 10;
Hilarianus, 70 olltward appearanee and, 10; pamphlets,
Hilaritas, Faltonia, 72 11; preservation of, 8; on publie
Hilduin (Abbot), 202, 204, 205, 254, 255 buildings, 9; purposes of, 8; signifieanee
Himerius, 31n57 of, 3; soeial status and, 10; as sourees of
Hippolytus, 50, 87, 98, 263n18 study, 8; tattoos, 10; as transformations,
Historia Augusta, 64 7-14; true transformation and, 2;
History (Eusebius), 132, 133 voeabulary of, 1, 2; as writings co gods, 9
Homilies on the Gospel 0/ John (Chrysostom), Irenaeus, 41, 45, 47, 48, 58n60; as
100 biblieal theologian, 5 5n3 7; as bishop,
Homilies on the Gospel 0/ Matthew 55n37; refutation of, 48
(Chrysostom), 94 Isaae, 21
Homily on the Gospel 0/ Matthew Isis, 71, 246; eult of, 7
(Chrysostom), 100 Islam: rise of, 177
Hrabanus Maurus, 197
Hume, David, 7 Jaeob, 68
Hybridity, 38, 58n59; diffieulty of Jacob of Sarugh, 104
evaluating, 52n12; in philosophical James, William, 7
Christianity, 45; subversive nature of, 38 Jerome, 255, 263n18
Hypogea, 65 Jesus Christ: baptism of, 3, 5, 18, 25n8;
birth of, 25n8; erueifixion/resurreetion,
Iambliehus, 35n105 139-40; inearnation of, 5, 6;
Identity: baptismal, 43; Christian, 85, 86, interpretations of nature of, 154; as the
104, 152, 249; communal, 154; Logos, 49; relationship to God, 141,
eultural, 159, 171, 173; ethnie, 36, 154
159, 194; Greek, 50n6; group, 62; John of Ephesus, 104-5, 123n95
INDEX 279
lohn of Epiphania, 174 bronze tablets, 9, 10, 29n37; tearing

lohn of ]erusalem, 100, 101 down, 11; Valentinian, 29n37
lohn the Baptist, 17, 120n61 lazi people, 171-74
lohn the Evangelist, 4 leah, 68
Jonathan, 68 le Boulluec, Alain, 45, 47, 48
]o~eph, 68 lent, 100, 101
]ovian (Emperor), 11 leo I (Pope), 90
]udaism, 36; burial practices, 64-69; leo In (Pope), 192
convergence/divergence with leo IV (Pope), 268n137
Christianity, 50n2; conversion to, 64; leon, Harry, 64, 67
lack of rules on choice of grave, 68; libanius, 31 n5 7
punishment for conversion, 64; role ~f Liber Syroromantls, 87
synagogue in burial site, 67 lieinius (Emperor), 130, 140, 245; batde
]ulian (Emperor), 11, 12, 33n82 with Constantine, 134, 135, 136;
]ulianus, 89 support for Christianity, 132
]upiter, 135, 138, 238 Lift 0/ Charlemagne (Einhard), 192, 206
]upiter Doliehenus, 64 Li/e 0/ Constantine (Eusebius), 131, 132,
]upiter Heliopolitanus, 64 133, 137, 143, 144, 147
luster, ]ean, 67 Lift 0/ Maryl Marinus, 98
]ustinian (Emperor), 105, 106, 107, 108, Lift 0/ Porphryr the Mime, 92-94
152,153,159,175, 178n2, 243,251, Lift 0/ St. Pelagia, 84, 231, 235, 247
252, 253; conquest of the Tzani, 160- light: baptism and, 33n78; divinity and,
69; ethnography of, 161; as facilitator 17; God as, 16; Trinity and, 32n71
of cultural change, 177; law of 536, lim, Richard, x, 84-111, 225, 226, 231,
169; marriage to Theodora, 106; system 233, 257
of belief of, 167, 177 logos: command of heavenly armies by,
]ustin Martyr, x, 225, 235-43; choice of 144; incarnation of, 16, 45; ]esus Christ
dress after baptism, 43-44, 57n48; as as, 49; saving man from consequences
colonial subject/religious subject, 38, of disobedience, 6
42; conversion of, 36-50; defined by lorsch monastery: Nazarius relics at, 197
texts, 237; "doubling" and, 37, 38, lothar, 193, 204
51n9; impact of, 237; literary louis the Pious, 189, 193, 200, 202, 204,
presentation of Christianity, 42; 205; correctio and, 189
mimesis of philosophical forms, 38; lucian of Samosata, 40, 159
mimicry and, 45, 48; as philosopher, lucius, 246, 247
38, 58n52; reflections on logos, lyman, Rebecca, x, 36-50, 225, 235
58n59; universalism of theology of,
38, 42; as work in progress, 41; Maas, Michael, x, 152-78, 225, 243-54
writings of, 37 Macedonius (Bishop), 21
MacMullen, Ramsay, 85-86
Kish, 68 Magi, 5, 25n8
Knowledge: ethnographie, 162; Magie: heresy and, 46, 50; rise of, 191
transcendent, 41; of truth, 17 Malalas, lohn, 93
Manitius, Max, 210
lactantius, 135 Marcellinus and Peter, 189, 190, 192,
lampe, P., 41 194, 196, 205, 210, 228, 229, 235,
language: of illumination, 1, 6, 35nl05; 254, 257; cult of, 193; curative
in inscription, 35n105; local, 160; non- powers of, 203, 205; display of relics
Roman, 157; of visions, 134 of, 220n82; miracles by, 198, 200,
laws and edicts: as agents of change, 10- 201, 202; trans formative effect of,
11; Constantinian, 29n37; inscribed on 203
280 INDEX
Mareellus of Aneyra (Bishop), 143 Mystagogical Catecheses (John of Jerusalem),

Mareian (Emperor), 107, 123nlOO 100, 101
Marcion of Pontus, 58n60, 239
Mareus Aurelius (Emperor), 40, 241, Nachleben, 112n6
265n72 Narratives: conversion, 198-99;
Martialis (Bishop), 70 hagiographieal, 201; traditional
Marx, Karl, 191 Christian, 36, 40
Mary the Egyptian, 97, 98 Nature: divine, 15
Matter: aseension of, 3; inferiority of, 23; "Neighborhood of the First Gate," 66,
as opposite of divine, 23; physieal, 3; 78n47
saving, 3 Neymeyr, U., 41
Maxentius (Emperor), 130, 135, 136, 228, Nieene Creed, 142
245, 246; battle with Constantine, 133, Nock, Arthur Derby, 7, 26n17, 101, 225
135; despieable behavior of, 132; North, John, 61
support for Christianity, 132 Novel (Justinian), 168, 186n82
Maximian (Emperor), 88, 134, 135 Numenius of Apamea, 39, 41
Maximinus (Emperor), 130
Maximus of Alexandria, 236, 237 On Baptism (Gregory of Nazianzus), 4
Mazarius, 197 On Epiphany (Gregory of Nazianzus), 238
MeLynn, Neil, ix, x, 119n51, 224-61 On ldolatry (Tertullian), 101
Meletius, 249 On the Nativity (Gregory of Nazianzus ), 4
Memory: theories of, 30n55; writing and, 12 Origen, 14, 39, 50
Menander Protector, 174, 175, 187nlOO, the Other: differenees of, 60n81
239
Mereurius, 72, 248 Paganism, 3, 17; eradieation of, 160;
Metanoia, 6 evolution of, 61; in Germany, 197;
Michelstadt, 193, 194; abandonment of, oppression of Christians and, 70;
200; ground plan, 199/ig, 200; loeation, plurality of, 40; rites of, 70
194, 195/ig; relies at, 200; settlement Paideia, 42, 43, 48, 49, 159
around, 198 Palladius, 234
Mills, Kenneth, ix-x Pallas Athena, 128
Mimesis, 13, 31n59 Paradise, 16
Mimiery, 31n59, 37; of Christianity, 45; Paseasius Radbertus, 205
destruetive, 46; of Hellenism, 45, 48; Pasehal I (Pope), 206, 208
Justin Martyr and, 45; of orthodoxy, 46 Paterfamilias, 13; absolute authority of,
Mithras, 63, 68; adepts of, 61, 62; eult of, 7 117n34; rules on disposition of family
Moles, M. Aurelios, 65 members, 90
Monotheism, 40, 45 Patronage: competition for, 40
Moral: judgment, 14; order, 108 Paulinus, Anieius, 89
Morality: Hellenism and, 46; simple, 46 Pax Romana, 158
Moreschini, Claudio, 5 Pedagogy: writing and, 12
Morrison, Karl, 7 Penitenee, 6, 21
Moses, 131; baptism of, 17 Persecution: of Christians, 53n14
Mulinheim, 189, 190, 192, 193, 211, Philosophy: Christianity and, 44;
223nl19; eopying St. Peter's Cathedral, dialeetieal, 38; discourse, 37; heresy
206, 207fig; eorreetion and, 205; and, 37, 47, 50; incorporating loeal
foundation stories of, 200; loeation, soure es of wisdom, 41; monotheism
194, 195/ig, 197, 219n67; movement of and, 45; Platonic, 55n37; rationalism
martyrs to, 200, 201; relies at, 194, of, 40; as representation of Christianity,
200, 201, 203; seeond ehureh at, 206, 47; seholastie, 39; Stoie, 55n37;
207/ig; settlement around, 198 traditional authority of, 44;
INDEX 28r
transeendent, 44, 45; transeending loeal Radeie, 193, 194, 198, 205, 206,
identity through, 43 223n119
Pippin III (King), 196 Rebeeea, 68
Plato, 39, 44; cosmology of, 15 Rebillard, Erie, x, 61-74, 99, 225, 226,
Platonism, 39, 51n8; Numenian, 44; 227
Pythagorean, 41, 45 Reform, 191; inner spiritual regeneration
Plotinus, 14 and, 192
Plutareh, 159 Relies: eorreetion and, 201; cults of, 190;
Pneumatikoi, 22, 24 distribution of, 202; in Germany, x,
Polities: of personal ambition, 40 189-212; at Michelstadt, 200; miracles
Polytheism, 40 surrounding, 198, 200, 201, 203;
Porphyrogenitus, Constantine, 174 proeessions with, 203; Roman, x, 209,
Porphyry of Antioeh, 234 211; shifting attitudes toward, 213nlO
Posteolonialism, 36, 38 Religion: arguments over universality of,
Power: eentralized, 36; eurative, 203, 205; 39; authentieity in, 38; behavior
divine, 138; imperial, 138, 166; shaping and, 173; in imperial period,
politieal, 36; transformative, 24; of 39; indeterminaey of, 38; loeative, 45;
writing, 13, 19 multiplieity of forms of, 50n2; reason
Proeess: baptism as, 6; of eonversion, 2; and, 173; traditional eategories of, 37;
fusion of moment with, 16; of wave theory of, 50n2
illumination, IX; of purifieation, 20; Restitutus, Mareus Antonius, 72
supernatural, 7 Rigibert (Bishop), 196
Procopius, 106, 109, 123n93, 161-63, Robert, 1., 65
178, 185n69, 226, 244, 250, 252, 253; Roman: burial, 61-74; Christianity, 153;
panegyrie writing, 163-67 citizenship, 154; culture, 152; dominanee
Prostitution, 87; ehildren in, 117n33; ehallenged by Hellenism, 43; edueation,
prohibition against selling daughters 6, 12, 39; entertainments, 86;
into, 90; slaves and, 90 ethnography, 152-53, 156-58; hegemony,
Ptolemaeus, 66 42; identity, 50n6, 154; imperialism, 173;
Ptolemy, 48 justifieation of imperialism, 158; law,
Publie stage: admonitions against 154; love of publie speetacles, 102;
attendanee at speetacles of, 102; martyrs, 189-212; relies, x; self-definition,
antipathy to ehureh, 87; as antithesis of 158; urban administration, 85-86
ehureh, 86; conversion and, 84-111; Rusticus, 242
disappearanee of eertain forms of
speetacle and, 85-86; entertainments Sabazios, 63
offered, 86; imperviousness to Saerifiees, publie, 85-86, 86
Christianization, 84; Nachleben and, Said, Edward, 36, 40
112n6; opposition of ehureh to, 84; Sta Prassede ehureh, 206, 208fig, 209,
pantomimes, 111; parodies of Christian 209fig
rites on, 94; regarded as amoral, 87; St. Agnes, 235
seeular nature of, 104; as souree of St. Cosma, 208
corruption, 87; transvestism and, 95-98, St. Damiano, 208
110 St. Genesius of Ades, 118n39
Purifieation: baptism and, 18, 19, 20, 21, St. Luke, 7
33n78, 33n82; lifelong, 24; as lifelong St. Paul, 14, 64, 155, 208; on giving
proeess, 21; proeess of, 20 offense to the heathen, 69; on idolatry,
Pythagoras, 39 69; Lukan eonversion of, 7
St. Pelagia, 94-98, 103, 109, 118n45,
Quadragesima, 100 119n55, 120n60, 226, 231, 232
Quintilian,. 31n57 St. Peter, 208
INDEX
St. Praxedis, 208 Status: hereditary, 10; social, 10

St. Sebastian, 205 Stephen (Bishop of Rome), 70
Salvation, 16; achieving, 3; baptism and, Stereotypes: ethnic, 176; racist, 60n81
17; interpretations of, 2 Strategikon 0/ Maurice, 175, 176
Samson, 68 Structuralism, 191
Sandilkh, 175 Superstition, 59n70, 191, 210
Satan, 189; baptism and, 84; renunciation
of, 101 Tacitus, 158
Saturni us, 21 Talmud: on burial, 68
Saul, 68 Tatian (Emperor), 45, 47, 52n12, 237
Scripture: adaptation of, 3 Tau/mimus, 92, 103
Scythians, 156 Tertullian, 45, 50, 69, 70, 101, 104, 111
Second Sophistic, 158, 159, 166 Theodora (Empress), 106, 107, 123n95,
Secret History (Procopius), 106, 253 208; elevation of, 107; former stage
Self: formation of, 12; late antique, 40 actress, 106, 107; founding of convent
Semahot, 68 by, 109
Sententiae (Paul) , 64 Theodosian Code, 64
Severianus, 72 Theodosius (Emperor), 3, 5, 24, 89, 240,
Severus, Sulpicius, 87, 88 241, 249, 257
Severus of Antioch, 105, 109, 111 Theology: defensive, 40; of Eusebius, 141-
Simon Magus, 238 44; intellectual origins of Christian, 42;
Sin: actuality of, 32n69; causes of, 16; of Justin Martyr, 38, 42
impossibility of, 3; interpretation of, Theophany, 5, 240, 241
32n69 Theophylact Simocatta, 176, 178
Sitz im Leben (Nock), 7 Theurgy, 35n105
Smith, Julia, x, 189-212, 225, 254 Tiburtius, 254, 255
Social: analysis, 156; change, 166; Tomb of the Patriarchs, 68
mobility, 39, 40, 43, 88; order, 12, 13; Tosefta, 68
processes, 225; self-definition, 165; Tradition, hierarchies of, 44
status, 247 Trajan (Emperor), 38
Socrates, 44 Translation and Miracles 0/ Sts. Marcellinus
Sol, 135 and Peter (Einhard), 193, 203-4, 206,
Sopatros, 31n57 210, 255, 256
Sophists, 48 Transvestism, 95-98, 110
Soul: free will and, 14; illumination of, Trinity: light and, 32n71
17; purification of, 17; renewal of, 192 Truth: accessibility of, 45; apostolic, 47-
Speech: Christian, 50; education and, 13; 48; Christianity as, 5 8n5 7; establishing,
hegemonie, 50; performative acts, 13 44; knowledge of, 17; original, 44, 46,
Stage performers, 232, 233, 234; baptism 58n57; revealed, 40, 45, 49; search for,
of, x, 84-111, 225; chastity and, 108; 57n47; simple, 40; subversion of, 47;
children of, 87-88; conversion of, 84- transcendent, 44, 48, 49; universal, 48
111; difficulty in recruitment of, 89; Twelve Tables, 90
forced back into service, 89, 90; Tzani people, 160-69, 184n47, 185n62,
hagiography of penitent actresses, 94- 226, 250-54; characteristics of, 167; as
98; marriage to, 107; martyrologies of, citizens, 169; conversion to Christianity,
91-94; mimes, 119n49, 126nl17; 163; cultural transformation of, 161-
obstacles for in receiving baptism, 90, 69, 165, 166; in the law, 168-69;
91; penitent, 105-9; performing after literary context of, 163; political
baptism, 88; refusal of sacraments to, condition of self-rule of, 163; in
87; rehabilitation of, 104-9; social Procopius's Wars, 161-63; revolt by,
mobility of, 88 166; subjugation of, 168
INDEX
Wisse, F., 41
Universalism, 39 Writing: about cultural change, 158-59;
Ursinus, 234 astrology and, 13, 14; baptism and, 19;
eanonieal, 48; formation of self through,
Valens (Emperor), 88 12; formative power of, 13; inseriptions
Valentinian (Emperor), 88, 89 as, 12; meanings assoeiated with, 12;
Valentinus, 48 memory and, 12; panegyrie, 163-67;
Van Dam, Raymond, x, 127-48, 243-54 pedagogy and, 12; philosophieal-
Verus, Lucius, 241 pedagogieal aspeets of, 13; social order
Vietor, 21 and, 12; teehnieal aspeets of, 30n55; as
Virgil, 158 trans formative aet, 12; transformative
Vita Karoli (Einhard), 190 powers of, 19
Vita Pelagiae, 95-98, 101, 102, 104, 110 Writing, ethnographie, 153; Christianity
and, 155; decline in, 174-77;
Wala, 204 ethnographie thought and, 154, 155; in
Wars (Procopius), 161-63, 251, 252 Roman empire, 156-58; in Roman law,
Weber, Max, 191 154; varieties of, 153-56
Weismann, Werner, 91
Wiggo, 189-212, 205 Zenobia, 44
Will: erisis of, 27n20; ftee, 14, 16 Zoroastrianism, 172
Williams, Margaret, 65, 67 Zosimus, 128
Williams, Michael, 48
Williams, R., 41
Willibrord, 196

Conversion in Late Antiquity and The Early Middle Ages

Загружено:

Сведения о документе

Оригинальное название

Авторское право

Доступные форматы

Поделиться этим документом

Поделиться или встроить документ

Параметры публикации

Этот документ был вам полезен?

Это неприемлемый материал?

Авторское право:

Доступные форматы

Conversion in Late Antiquity and The Early Middle Ages

Загружено:

Авторское право:

Доступные форматы

CONVERSION IN LATE ANTIQUITY

AND THE EARLY MIDDLE AGES

-m u niversity of Rochester Press

SHELBY CULLOM DAVIS CENTER

Animals in Human Histories: The Mirror 0/ Nature and Culture

The Animal/Human Boundary: Historical Perspectives

Conversion: Old Worlds and New

Conversion in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages

University of Rochester Press

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

This publication is printed on acid-free paper

1. Inscriptions and Conversions: Gregory of Nazianzus on Baptism

2. The Politics of Passing: ]ustin Martyr's Conversion as a

3. Conversion and Burial in the Late Roman Empire 6I

4. Converting the Un-Christianizable: The Baptism of Stage Performers

5. The Many Conversions of the Emperor Constantine 127

6. "Delivered from Their Ancient Customs": Christianity and the

7. "Emending Evil Ways and Praising God's Omnipotence":

8. Seeing and Believing:

This book began from a set of papers presented at a symposium on conver-

KENNETH MILLS AND ANTHONY GRAFTON

Rebecca Lyman's interpretation of the conversion of Justin Martyr within

INSCRIPTIONS AND CONVERSIONS

process of conversion. Both, the "inscription" vocabulary as weIl as that

those of a distinct minority. He was on the defensive and had to persuade

about baptism and illumination, Gregory needed to "convert" those who

GREGORY OF NAZIANZUS AND HIS RATIONS 38-4

o newmixture! 0 paradoxical fusion!

Gregory of Nazianzus's Orations 38 and 40 form part of a set of three

ists know hirn as part of a "triumvirate," the so-eaIled Cappadoeian Fathers

appropriate expression) to gain insights into specific liturgical questions,

CONVERSIONS AND INSCRIPTIONS:

"By conversion we me an the reorientation of the soul of an individual, his

Roman Empire. The tablets themselves were considered sacrosanct, objects

of Nazianzus, and he responded in kind. After Julian's death, he composed

GREGORY OF NAZIANZUS ON BAPTISM

[First Man or the first fusion of two ineommensurables} God plaeed in

sealing, and especially writing illuminated. Bere, writing should ideally be

In Gregory's interpretation, all the "actualizers" or markers of baptism

RIVAL COSMOLOGIES, RIVAL BAPTISMS

Why did Gregory feel it necessary to elaborate to such an extent on baptism-

The consequences of such different notions of baptism become perhaps

I. Still best encapsulated in the definition given by Arthur Derby Nock,

in the Mystagogical Writings 0/ Cyril 0/ Jerttsalem, John Chrysostom, Theodore 0/

the veryending of the sentence, it was as though a light of utter confidence

45. Lieberman, "Roman Legal Institutions," p. 8.

56. A. C. Dionisotti, "From Ausonius' Schooldays? A Schoolbook and Its

Fatalisme et liberte dans Fantiquite grecque: Recherehes sur la survivance de

87. Soc. HE 5.7; Soz. HE 7.5.5-7. Matthews, Western AristocraciesJ p.

I02. Eun. Apol. 23-4.-IO.

THE POLITICS OF PASSING

]USTIN MARTYR'S CONVERSION AS A PROBLEM OF

therefore makes hirn suspect as a Christian as well as a philosopher, fitting

piety and thought beneath an uneasy and negotiated Roman tolerance.

from Hellenism in the second century, or rather participating in a cultural

"deviant" teachers, we hesitate to give hirn as a "teacher" a central place in

if contentious in arguing for Christian superiority as the fullness of divine

Justin does not describe philosophy as hairesis, nor is hairesis aseparate

which encourages both resistance to and acceptance of surrounding cultures,

both to eulture and to traditions reeeived. Deseriptions of heresy as "philos-

I. Culture and Imperialism (New York, 1993), p. 336.

to be made between acceptance and resistance and about preferences wi thin

Sebstverstiindnis und ihre Geschichte (Leiden, 1989), p. 20. T. Rajak describes