Conversion in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages: Seeing and Believing (Studies in Comparative History)

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 1-58°46-125-5 (alk. paper) 1.

Conversion-Christianity-History-To 1500-Congresses. Kenneth, 1964-

H. Grafton, Anthony.

ct001

1. Mills,

IU. Series.

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

2°°3°°4 110

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

i ntroductitm

vu 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.

v

SMITH

VI

CONTENTS

8. Seeing and Believing: Aspects of Conversion from Antoninus Pius to Louis the Pious NEIL McLYNN

Notes on Contributors Index

273

27 I

224

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book began from a set of papers presented at a symposium on conversion 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 conversion 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 medieval 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 contributor to this volume, contends that in describing the shift of affiliation that was religious conversion, ancient authors allowed apparently competing 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 exegesis in these thinkers' spiritual and intellectuallives. Complete conversionstrictly 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 contribution 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 characterizes as the volume's "seven experiments along the line of the 'Rise of Christianity,'" 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, 2°°3)·

CONVERSION IN LATE ANTIQUITY AND THE EARLY MIDDLE AGES: SEEING AND BE,LIEVING

I INSCRIPTIONS AND CONVERSIONS GREGORY OF NAZIANZUS ON BAPTISM

SUSANNA

(Gr. 38-4°)

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 fourthcentury 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 illumination" 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 authors who wrote personal accounts of such a shift, like Gregory of Nazianzus 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

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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 undergone voluntarily and less so), because of the density of meanings associated with "inscriptions." Further, by combining the language of inscription (denotio-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 realigning the individual in his relationship to the imagined, unchangeable (heavenly) 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 understood 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. However, 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 several other competing notions and practices, that is, in response to competing cosmologies. These competing cosmologies and their associated notions of baptism are weIl known under such labels as "Arian," "Eunomian," "Novatian," 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

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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 resurrection, 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 impossibility. 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 according 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 combined with that of illumination, rather than on conversion understood as a "flash of lightening," highlights the fact that for Gregory and his contemporaries "conversion" was a matter of cosmology and exegesis, that is, of the correct adaptation of Genesis and Scripture into each author's understanding 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 highlights 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 between Middle and Neo-Platonism. At stake was the question whether or not "matter," that is, the human body, could be saved. Rather than "paganism" 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 understanding 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

4

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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 ÜRATIONS

38-4°

o new

mixture! 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-

INSCRIPTIONS

AND

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5

ists know hirn as part of a "triumvirate," the so-eaIled Cappadoeian Fathers of the Chureh, aIl three instrumental in formulating the eommon, "orthodox" understanding of the Trinity as one in three. While thus weIl known and weIl studied as a theologian and by theologians, Gregory of Nazianzus simultaneously has been sidelined intoa historiographical 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 eonstruction and promotion of his ideal of Christian leadership as a "philosophieal" 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 historiographie 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 advertised a life eonsisting of periods of aetivity interspersed with ones of refleetion 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 produet of his time, and henee plaees his notions of the Christian leadership into their eontext, his writings take on a different weight. Programmatie, politieal, and influential, they were a far ery from the musings of an idiosyneratie individual, espeeially when Gregory wrote as bishop oE Constantinople. Orations 38-4° were held within weeks of Gregory's ordination as bishop 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 suburbs. 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 Oration 40- has usuaIly been diseussed (though "mined" is perhaps the more

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appropriate expression) to gain insights into specific liturgical questions, such as the precise order in which baptism was celebrated in the Constantinopolitan 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, crpayts, 'tU7tOS, ypa~~a'ta, 7tAaKat, crKtaypaot) to describe a historically defined "moment" of change in cosmological 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 "conversion" (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 Platonic manner, illumination in Gregory's writing is "code" for cosmology. Thus, baptism as illumination actualized and made personal for each individual 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 explain something utterly non-Platonic, namely the fusion of the transcendental 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 disobedience. In Gregory's understanding, baptism is the actualization of the second fusion in each human, the marker aligning the individual within this cosmological process. Hence, baptism into Christ's Incarnation. Correspondingly, 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

INSCRIPTIONS

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7

for Gregory the model event through which the underlying Platonic structure 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 innovation. 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 mysteries 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 understanding of "conversion." Though informed by a number of pre-Christian 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 traditionally 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 Weber, 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, Augustine 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

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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 tangentially 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 something 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 exceedingly important sources for the study of the ancient world. Not only are they, together with visual remains such as sarcophagi and portraits, virtually 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 purposes, ranging from the individual to the imperial. Given the broad spectrum of the material, the following is a rather condensed overview, seeking primarily to illustrate the weight and density of connotation of words such as "inscribing," "writing," "impressing," "marking," as well as those that denoted 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 employed 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.), education, public offices held, acts of benevolence performed, and so on. 27 They also sought to order posterity in a number of different ways, most frequently by exhorting the reader to preserve the inscription-stressing that inscriptions 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 inscription 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

INSCRIPTIONS

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9

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 effective as one that had been carved into a completely new surface. A second kind of inscriptions placed on public buildings, including statues 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, furthermore, 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 defilement, 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 relatively 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 assumed, 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

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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 inhabitants 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 nineteenthcentury 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 mechanisms of control, social status was also inscribed into the person himself: slaves, soldiers, gladiators, prostitutes, and other stage performers were frequently 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

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I I

inscription into one social place could oe instantly modified, with consequences affecting himself, subsequent generations, and the entire hierarchical 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" (ßUO"tA1Kov) 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 opening, 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, secondly and in even greater detail, to the interaction of the divine with its

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15

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 Nativity, 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 supreme divinity, God, created the universe (Or. 38.9). Not content to contemplate 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"110OrttO"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 baptism. 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 understood), 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 Historically, 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

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heart and mind," or penitence. Jesus, then, baptized purely in the SpUlt; "that was perfection." Christ hirns elf received the fourth baptism: the baptism 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 mechanism 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 necessary 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 represented 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,

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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 natures, and hence the Incarnation. All acts were powerful. Washing accomplished purification, sealing protected the newly purified against the continuous and even intensifying attacks of demons, now homing in on the newly cleaned space with particular 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 continued this process of fusion, further enhancing it through its transformative powers. By writing into the catechumen's soul the characters of the formulation 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 disposition, if it is the good text that is written into you, safeguard that which has been written and in the middle of changeable circumstances, keep it unchanged .... Imitate (/lt/lll0-at) but improve upon Pilate who wrote a defective writing-in you the good has been writtenand 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 fusion: it signaled the assumption of the new XUPUK'tftp, the new letter of the one form in Christ.

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In Gregory's interpretation, all the "actualizers" or markers of baptism demanded human choice and agency because they were all part of an ongoing 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 salvation-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 moment, but it is the entirety of the moment that this 'now' indicates" ('I80u vuv lWtpO:t Presumed Reconstrudion

Crypt and foundations

5metres , 15 feet I

10 I 30I

Fig. 2. Einhard's church at Michelstadt. Adapted from Thomas Ludwig, Otto Müller, and Irmgard Widdra-Spiess, Die Einhards-Basilika in Steinbach bei Michelstadt im Odemvald, 2 vols. (Mainz, 1996), val. 2, plate 143.

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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 martyrdom; 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 Einhard's two ehurehes, Michelstadt and Mttlinheim. Miehelstadt's ground plana central nave with side aisles, separated by a sereen from a trieellular, triple-apsed rectangular ehoir-was dosely in line with the ehurehes reeently built to house showease monastie eommunities for Benediet of Aniane, the chief proponent of a revised Benedietine monastieism and dose eounselor of Louis the Pious. Like the model eommunities at Maursmünster and Inden (Kornelimünster), 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 diffieulty 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

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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 inauguration 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 morning by "a huge multitude of neighbors" who had traveled out from Mulinheim, 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 eelebrated 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 miraeulousness."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 Mulinheim, 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 attraeted to any plaee of power-eareerist courtiers, administrators whether effieient or lazy, Christian and Jewish merehants, litigants and eriminals,

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builders and beggars, pimps and prostitutes. Built as the exemplary center of an exemplary empire, the palace was the primary stage on which Carolingian 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 immediately 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 Christianity 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, Maastricht, and Trier. 82 By the end of that summer, each except Trier had sent on

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to Einhard a libeflus containing a formal wrltten memorandum of the mirades 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 sixday 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 transformative 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 traveled 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 reputation. 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 Mulinheim, 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

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establish itself alongside preexisting ones, and the recording and publicizing 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 explanation. 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 archbishops and their suffragans would "discover by inquiry [what should be done} about their own correctio and emendatio and that of all of us, in accordance 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 authority," but that they had nevertheless sinned: for this they desired God's pardon. 95 The synods' agenda included the huge issues of the appropriate relationship 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

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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 mirades 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 outmaneuvered 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 contained 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 circulated 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 speaking 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 renewed 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

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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 submitted 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 immediately 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 important 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

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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 30 feet !

2,0 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

75 ~eet

5,0 1~0

Fig. 4. St. Peter's, Rome. Adapted from Roger Stalley, Earl)' lVIedieval Architectttre (Oxford, 1999), fig. 6.

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.. . .. . . . .. . . . . _:________ _

~1IIIIiIIIIiIIII1iIIIIIIIIIIIII==-:_:

Fig. 5. Sta Prassede, Rome. Adapted from Rotraut Wisskirchen, Das ivlosaikprogralllJJl von S. Prassede in Rom: Ikonographie lind Ikonologie, Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum Ergänzungsband 17 (Münster, 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

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lLlJ

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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 Conceivably 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 catacombs; both were simultaneously pilgrimage and funerary churchesY9 Sad-

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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 statement of contemporary Romanness. It was built to accommodate the pilgrims 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 devout, 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, celebrated. 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

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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 Carolingian empire-at its very heart, at Aachen, even-the task was not conversion, 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 included 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. Underneath the rhetoric of religious uniformity, the mandate for change reinforced 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 written 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

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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 inseparable.

NOTES

I am greatly indebted to the Davis Center for electing me to the fellowship 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 Courtier: The Complete Einhard (Peterborough, Ont., 1998), pp. 69-130. 2. Hildemar, Expositio regulae S. Benedieti, ed. R. Mittermüller (Regensburg, 1880), as quoted by David Ganz, "The Preconditions for Caroline Minuscule," Viator 18 (1987): 39. For important comments on the relationship between emendation and authority in the early Middle Ages see Martin 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., forthcoming); 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).

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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 abendlä'ndische Christenheit von 400 bis 900 (Stuttgart, 1990), pp. 43-45; Rosamond McKitterick, "Conclusion," New Cambridge Medieval History, vol. 2: c. 700-c. 900 (Cambridge, 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," Hagiographie, 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 (Stanford, 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 frühen Christentum bis zur Gegenwart (Munich, 1994) conveniently surveys 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 Religiosität 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 (Cambridge, 1993), pp. 157-62; Timothy Reuter, '''Kirchenreform' und 'Kirchenpolitik" im Zeitalter Karl Martells: Begriffe und Wirklichkeit," in Karl

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Martell in seiner Zeit, ed Jörg 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 Comparison 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 Realities," 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 resumption 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 tradition 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, Fürstenspiegel 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 religiös-pastoralen Dimension von Kapitularien und kapitulariennahen Texten (507-8I4), Freiburger Beiträge 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 Toledo, cl. I; Council of Merida, cl. 18; and 11th Council of Toledo, cls. 78, 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 Clermont, 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.

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695, ed. Charles de Clercg, Corpus Christianorum series latina, vo1. I48A (Turnhout, 1963), pp. 6, 106, 136 , 197, 3°5-7. 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 human 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 responsibilities 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 bibliography on Einhard and the vita Karoli, see Max Manitius, Geschichte der lateinischen Literatur des Mittelalters, vol. I (Munich, 191 I; reprint ed., 1974), pp. 639-46; J. Fleckenstein, "Einhard," in Lexicon des Mittelalters, 3: cols. 173739; 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-

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magne's Heir: New Perspectives on the Reign of Louis the Pious (Oxford, I990). 27. Franz J. Felten, Äbte und Laienenä'bte im Frankenreich (Stuttgart, I980), pp. 283-86, for details of the lay abbacies. 28. Codex Laureshamensis I9, ed. Karl Glöckner, 3 vols. (Darmstadt, I92936), 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 hagiographische 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 Gründung und sein Vermächtnis in Seligenstadt, " in his Ordnungen und formende Kräfte des Mittelalters (Göttingen, 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 Rechtsverhältnisse der Abtei Seligenstadt im Mittelalter," Archiv für hessische Geschichte und Altertumskunde, n.s. 22 (I94I): I-53; Waldemar Küther, "Seligenstadt, Mainz und das Reich," Archiv für 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 Kontinuität 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 fränkischen Reiches," in Alemannien und Ost/ranken im frühen Mittelalter, ed. F. Quarthai, Veröffentlichungen des Alemannischen Instituts Freiburg 48 (Bühl, I984), pp. I3-38, surveys theories about the development of political organization; Robert Koch and Ursula Koch, "Die fränkische Expansion ins Main- und Neckargebiet," in Die Franken: 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 fränkische Expansion," p. 273; Matthew Innes, State and Society in the Early Middle Ages: The Middle Rhine valley, 400-IOOO (Cambridge, 2000), pp. I57-59.

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37. Matthias Werner, "Iren und Angelsachsen in Mitteldeutschland. Zur vorbonifatianischen Mission in Hessen und Thüringen," in Die Iren und Europa im früheren Mittelalte", ed. Heinz Löwe, 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 Büttner, Zur frühmittelalterlichen Reichsgeschichte an Rhein} Main und Necka", ed. Alois Gerlich (Darmstadt, 1975). 38. Illustrated in Helmut Roth and Egon Wamers, Hessen im Frühmittelalter: Archäologie und Kunst (Sigmaringen, 1984), nos. 182-83, 192-93, 200201, 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 Büttner, Zur frühmittelalterlichen Reichsgeschichte} p. 116. 40. Liber aureus Epternacensis 8, 26, ed. Camille Wampach, Geschichte der Grundherrschaft Echternach im Frühmittelalter, 2 vols (Luxembourg, 195 I-52), 1:63-6 5. 41. WeIl emphasized by Nicole Zeddies, "Bonifatius und zwei nützliche Rebellen: Die Häretiker Aldebert und Clemens," in Ordnung und Aufruhr im Mittelalter: Historische und juristische Studien zur Rebellion} ed. Marie Theres Fögen (Frankfurt, 1995), pp. 217-63. 42. Reuter, '''Kirchenreform' und 'Kirchenpolitik,'" p. 41. 43. J. M. Wallace-Hadrill, The Frankish Church (Oxford, 1983), pp. 14361. 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 Köttelwesch, Kataloge der Stadt- und Universitä'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 Karolingerzeit (Wiesbaden, 1975); Alfred Friese, Studien zur Herrschaftsgeschichte des frä'nkishen Adels: Der mainlä'ndisch-thüringische Raum vom 7. bis I I. Jahrhundert (Stuttgart, 1979) pp. 51-83; Matthew Innes, "People, Places and Power in

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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. Thomas Ludwig, Otto Müller, and Irmgard Widdra-Spiess, Die Einhards-Basilika in Steinbach bei Michelstadt im Odenwald} 2 vols. (Mainz, I996), I :2-4. 52. Büttner, Zur /rühmittelalterlichen Reichsgeschichte} p. I59, comments on the earliest charter for the Odenwald. For Lorsch and internal colonization, see Staab, Untersuchungen} pp. 3I4-3I; Hans-Jürgen Nitz, "The Church as Colonist: The Benedictine Abbey of Lorsch and Planned Waldhufen Colonization in the Odenwald," Journal 0/ Historical Geography 9 (I983): I0526. Chris Wickham, "European Forests in the Early Middle Ages: Landscape and Land Clearance," Settimane di Studio sultAlto Medioevo 37 (I989): 5I62 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 Michlinstat 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 singlecelled 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 Denkmäler 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, Müller and Widdra-Spiess, Die Einhards-Basilika} pp. I4-I6. When the relics arrived at the new basilica,

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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 Francia," 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: Entwicklung und Wandel von Form und Bedeutung im frä'nkischen Kirchenbau zwischen 75 I und 840 (Berlin, 199 2 ), pp. 265-318. 65. Translatio et miracula LI, p. 239: "quendam locum secretum, a populari frequentia valde remotum." This is a reworking of a common hagiographie 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 Mulinheim in 815 ("basilicam parvo muro factarn": Codex Laureshamensis 19, 1:3°0), 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 Vorbericht zu den Grabungen 1994/95 am Alten Friedhof in Seligenstadt," Denkmalpflege 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 having abandoned it even though he retained usufruct until his death. Codex Laureshamensis 141, I: 415.

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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 Einhard 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 mirades," in Hagiographie, eultures et societes, pp. 235-59; see p. 240 on sixtheentury 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 Röekelein, "Mirades and Horizontal Mobility in the Early Middle Ages: Some

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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 Rhineland 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 Gregory 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 Dümmler, Abhandlungen der königlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin, philosophische und historische Klasse 2 (1900): 61. On the date, sourees, and purpose of this difficult text, see David Ganz, "The Epitaphium Arsenii and Opposition 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 Karolingerzeit im Frankenreich und in Italien (Paderborn, 1989), pp. 179-87. 97. MGH Conc. II, no. 50d, pp. 6°5-80. 98. As demonstrated by Bondois, La Translation, pp. 93-97, and Heinzelmann, "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. Levison, 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 Löwe (Weimar, 1957), pp. 319-21; Josef Fleckenstein, Die

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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. Dümmler, pp. 61-62, in the translation 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 Dreaming 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, Matthew Kempshall, "Some Ciceronian Models for Einhard's Life of Charlemagne," 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 früh- und hoch mittelalterliche Bauherr als usapiens architectus!" 2d ed. (Darmstadt, 1998), p. 59. I 13. For details, see Rotraut Wisskirchen, Das Mosaikprogramm von S. Prassede in Rom: Ikonographie und Ikonologie! Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum, Ergängzungsband 17 (Münster, 1990), pp. I 1-13; for the political and cultural context of Paschal's building activities, see Thomas F. X. Noble, "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 Christianarum 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," Römische Quartalschrift für christliche Altertumskunde und Kirchengeschichte 69 (1974): 7-29. I 16. Discussed in detail by Wisskirchen, Mosaikprogramm.

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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 Currents 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 Renaissance 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 Müller, "Kurze Beschreibung der Einhardsbasilika in Seligenstadt," Archiv für hessische Geschichte und Altertumskunde, n.s. 36 (1978): 87II6. 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 römische 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.

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8 SEEING AND BELIEVING ASPECTS OF CONVERSION FROM ANTONINUS PlUS TO LOUIS THE PIOUS

NEIL

McLYNN

To the distress of their duly anointed shepherds, the Christian congregations 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 antiquity, 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 actresses; 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

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In the seven hundred years between Justin's teaching career and the composition of The Translation 0/ Peter and Marcellinus J the framework within which Christians expressed their commitment to the faith changed dramatically. Where Rebecca Lyman shows Justin's Rome crackling with the multiple interactions of charged particles, for Julia Smith's equally competitive Einhard Christian authority congeals around specific nodes. But despite 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 everywhere from imperial statutes to imperial statues, from theories of baptism to burial practices, from ancient ethnographie vocabulary to modern postcolonial discourse. When A. D. Nock published his classic study of conversi 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 statements 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 imperial fantasy of bringing civilization and God's order" (p. 170). The buccaneering 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 rendered 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 involves Justin measuring hirnself against the other intellectuals, Christian

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and otherwise, of Rome, or Einhard's discreet hardball at the Carolingian ' court, Christian commitment is something to be negotiated. And two aspects 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, indirectly in Einhard's treatise) invite further questions about the respective authorial strategies and audience responses; we might also pursue the questi 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 commitment 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

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come together again, seated differendy and with an admixture of different company, at the circus and theater; they would reconvene, ordered differently 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 challenges 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 iconography 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 particular 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 Restitutus, 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 practical 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 introduce 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

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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 competing 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 archaeological 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 Marcellinus, 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 fourthcentury "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, Constantine 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

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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 intentions nor by the rituals conducted at the site by Roman clergymen, but by the aggregate of the funeral arrangements, and the arrangements for posthumous 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 Marcellinus. 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 conversion 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 lineages; 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

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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 initiatives 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 trademark) 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 anniversaries 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 chamber 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,

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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 attentions to others among the deserving departed. So although Ambrose's attentions 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 incremental 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 family 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 cemetery: 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 selfcriticism) even in a passing show of sinful beauty, abishop then preaches in a more formal setting and inspires a spontaneous and spectacular conversion. 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

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even so, initiative is taken by an outsider, not the local bishop-such was the instinctive resistance, perhaps, to episcopal interference in the entertainment industry. Moreover, Nonnus's initial homily is purely for the edification 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 Victorinus 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 requirement 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 response?"-by the dose (in the passage quoted by Lim) he has moved from the miscreants to their enablers. When banning theatergoers from the sacraments 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" actresses (pp. 88-90) indicates that the dergy were occasionally called upon to give testimonials, implicating themselves in difficult and delicate decisions. Cod. Theod 15.7. I (addressed to a prefect of Rome during the episco-

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pate of Damasus) provides for a complex procedure whereby episcopal approval 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 provided 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 "betraying 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 suspected 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 illustrates 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 baptism, 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 competition that encouraged them to advertise their exclusive claims upon celebrities. 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,

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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 competition would prompt scenes that disgusted the sober historian Ammianus Marcellinus, as senators fawned eagerly upon newly arrived courtesanseven 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 Ammianus 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 described as the "seamy side" of that much-discussed phenomenon, the Conversion of the Roman Aristocracy.31 For although the motives that led actresses-and charioteers, for that matter 32-to seek refuge in the Christian 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 clients. This created ample scope for innuendo, ranging from Gregory Nazianzen'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 campaign and in its immediate aftermath, each time in slightly different company. 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-

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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 entertainment industries) of the genuine Christian people. The text ends with a further massacre, in a suburban cemetery: the U rsinians had gathered, wi thout 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 imperial mausoleum) when the pope again unleashed his hoodlums. 37 Damasus would eventually honor Agnes, like Peter and Marcellinus, with a beautifully 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 mysterious 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 recording 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

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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 Augustine 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 baptism, 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 summons 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 constraints 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 typical 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 convers ions that they themselves effected. Once again, comparison reveals some unexpected similarities between their working conditions. Lyman's presentation 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 Maximus of Alexandria, the Christian Cynic: and Maximus's alleged treachery (in putting hirnself forward for promotion at Gregory's expense) in turn

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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 underestimate 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 maintained 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, launehing 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 modern 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 föurth: each successive hybrid is absorbed, to help produce another.

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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 penetration 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 fomented 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 discovered this "Roman" cult of Simon, his sudden insistence he re graphically delineates his imaginative horizons. From the Tiber bridge the famous temple 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 denounce it. The passage thus shows one colonial teacher setting out to expose, for the benefit of a metropolitan audience, the false claims of another.

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Something similar could be said about Gregory's Constantinople. Until he was installed in his cathedral, he appears to have given its congregation-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 capital-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 Samaritan 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 representatives. 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 unmoved 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 heresiologist like Epiphanius might note the existence of Marcionist conventicles, he evidendy had to go out of his way to find these, and when he encountered 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

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be seen as boundary markers. For all his claims to have "tamed" his opponents 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 irredeemable-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 Gregory'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, deserves 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 antique 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, incumbency 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 inauguration 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 populace treated to three days of games. 66 There is no previous evidence, moreover, for the celebration of the Theophany in late December: so Gregory

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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 dutifully for the Epiphany service thus had to cope with the abrupt resumpti 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 restructuring of the calendar he presented to the new Theodosian regime a program 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 baptized 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 selfevidently negative response;1° and although this harangue was intended to persuade secular officials to accept baptism, Gregory fails to exploit Theodosius's epoch-making reconciliation of the purple and the font. To und erstand Gregory's behavior here we might again compare hirn with Justin. For both men, in their different ways, were of necessity sophisticated emperor-watchers. When Justin wrote his ApologYJ as Lyman points out, emperors 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 relationship between the Apologist and the most appropriate of his interlocutors. 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

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the progression from Incarnation through Illumination to Baptism-a refusal 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 bishops, 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 philosophical Christian preacher seems to have found it more difficult to face a baptized Christian emperor in the flesh than did his second-century predecessor 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 included 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 incorporates 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

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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 performance 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 conversions 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 Justinian's image, religious and otherwise, nevertheless seems much more

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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 Ethnographer. " 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 notably 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 seeking 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 Onomasticon 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 participants. 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 hinterland 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 Eusebius had used elsewhere to express the paradoxical contrasts between barbarian 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

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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 precisely because it fell behind the stage. 89 And Licinius's predecessor Maximinus 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 (another who was consigned to the same treatment, just one year before Maximinus) 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 fragments 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 inscribed 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

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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 originally 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 energy 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 convert 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 tetrarchie 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 Constantine'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 conversion 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

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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 friendsand 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 themselves. Another famaus passage from Augustine's Confessions describes how the celebrated rhetor of Rome, Marius Victorinus, was offered the opportunity 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 catechists. 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 processes 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 Nonnus 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

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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 reported 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, several 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 dreamconversations 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 report 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 onwards, 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

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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-individual 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 monument in Constantinople which Van Dam mentions (p. 145) as a counterpoint to Constantine's statue, the emperor's mausoleum at Holy Aposdes. Eusebius describes this, in a famously convoluted passage which nevertheless 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 inclusion 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 memory. This development, which can be seen as a consequence of the dismanding 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 awkward responsibility of upholding an imperial ideology: the consequences were misuhderstandings, rioting, and repressionY5 A provincial bishop helped

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solve the impasse by announcing that apostolic relics had revealed themselves to hirn, allowing Constantius to transform Holy Apostles into a more intelligible (and more clearly demarcated) spaceY6 Procopius in his Buildings then describes a further transformation of the siteY7 The central episode 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 attention 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 visions 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 conversion 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 "religion") 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

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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. Significantly, although the Tzani are Christians they do not build their own churches, 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 transformations 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 Boreium 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 friendship and persuading them to become Christian. "As a result," they change their diaita "for the gentler" (epi to hemeröteron: 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

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in human sacrifice and unholy rites, on the basis of which they practice divination. 124 In this example we discover that Christianity is not necessarily 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 hemeröteron) 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 ühe 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 realignment, 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 Procopius'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 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 J

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Procopius's ethnographical vision thus not only involves a conceptual scheme that could be applied to three different continents; it is also entangled 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 pillar, 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 imposed ceremonial order. The Book 01 Ceremonies introduces a further "Conversion"

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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 spectacular 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 already 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 approximation 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

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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 Deusdona 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 commercial; 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 supplying a provenance for the previous arrivals. 142 The Translation thus reflects a fine balance. The evident concern to provide Einhard's saints with an autonomous genealogy suggests that the cultural 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-destructiveness of overt polemic; the casting of the invention account as a vindication of pious Frankish self-reliance seems calculated to appeal to the readers' selfimage. 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 commitment 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 Constantinople 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)

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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 control 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 implicated 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 entrepreneurial 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 painful 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 countryside 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

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sermons, for example, he would petition Theodosius for release from Constantinople-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 Einhard's martyrs, but since the Hilduins of Caesarea retained physical possession of the body he had less scope to reconfigure the local spiritual landscape. 151 Gregory struggled, too, to control interpretations of his retirement 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 martyrs, quite possibly (as Smith has attractively and plausibly suggested) to celebrate the dedication of their church. If so, his devotions can be compared 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 instructions 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 renunciation. 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 Lyman 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

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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 assumed 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 difference 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 justified 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 Augustine'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 administered, 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 Charlemagne's favorite books, as Einhard reminds US),158 which bring out with

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particular vividness the concrete, physical dimensions that have been central 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 convert 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 Cappadocia, 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, praying 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 contributions of Maas and Van Dam might most usefully come together. For there remains much room for further exploration of the late antique vocabulary 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

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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 situation 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 Moreover, 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 disappointed to be so thoroughly upstaged. Augustine's Tuesday sermon, moreover, 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 finally bring his story as far as the font; he had four more days in the Octave to res tore coherence to Easter.

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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 choreograph. The relationship between Augustine's homiletic texts and his subsequent 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 determination to maintain his train of thought. For much of this volume is concerned 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 imposing a Christian vision upon a capital or his sixth-century successor imposing 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 hostile. 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

Greg. Naz. Gr. 2-44 (the monster); 117 (the shining flock). M. J. Johnson, "Pagan-Christian Burial Practices of the Fourth Century: 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 südes 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 1.

2.

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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. 2°7-63; 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, summarizing 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 celebrations 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, "Damase, eveque de Rome," in Saecularia Damasiana: Atti deI Convegno Internazionale 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. 4°6-10, 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.

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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 Hippolytusdescribes 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. Seyfarth 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 Dialogus 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 Pietri, Roma Christiana, pp. 47-51; cf. Curran, Pagan City and Christian Capital, pp. 128-29.

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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. 13286; 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 ecclesiastique," Analecta Bollandiana 100 (1982): 229-36; for Justin and Crescens (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 Nazianzen's Anastasia Church: Arianism, the Goths, and Hagiography," Dumbarton Oaks Papers 52 (1998): 157-96. Justin's lodgings are identified (and muddled in transmission) in Acta Just. 3.3: H. Musurillo, The Acts 0/ the Christian Martyrs (Oxford, 1972), pp. xix, 44, 48. Gregory reports his mysterious brush with the authorities at Constantinople in DVS 668-78. 47· Acta Just. 4·7 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. 26465· 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

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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 exploration. 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 (treatise 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 Empire: 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. 39·9. 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 Modest 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.

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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 Apthartodocetism: 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 Propaganda 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 Romae} ed. M. Steinby, vol. I (Rome, 1993) p. 307.

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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 empurpled 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 visionary 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 Thessaloniea, 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 diseussion by G. Dagron, Constantinople: La naissance d'zme capitale: ConstantinopIe 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.

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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 Zoroastrianism'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 Tzibus, with Braund, Georgia in Antiquity! pp. 293-95. I32. Procop. Buildings I.2.I-I2, with C. Mango, "The Columns of ]ustinian 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. Constantine," Deltion tes ehristianikes arehaiologikes IO (I980-8I): pp. I03-IO; reprinted 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! 312-13°8 (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

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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 construction 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 cimetiere, 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 beneficiary 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. 9197· 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 für 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.

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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 Augustine'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. 8712 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." Augustine 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 Catechumenate, pp. 3 I 3- 15 .

NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

Susanna Elm is Professor of History at the University of California at Berkeley. 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 transformation 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

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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 Scientifique in Paris. He is the author of In hora mortis: Evolution de la pastorale chretienne de la mort aux IVe et Ve südes dans f'Occident latin (1994) and Religion et sepulture: L'iglise, les vivants et les morts dans l'Antiquiti tardive (forthcoming, 20°3)·

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 Carolingians (r992) and of many articles on saints' cults and hagiography in late antiquity and the early Middle Ages. Her After Rome: Western Europe, c. 5001000 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 Cappadocia will be published in 2003.

INDEX

Abraham, 68 Acacius, 169 Acta 0ustin Martyr), 43 Acta Pelagiae, 122n86 Acta Sanctorum, 91 Acts 0/ the Apostles, 94 Adalhuno of Nilkheim, 196 Adelphius, 34n94 Admonitio generalis (Charlemagne), 190 Ad Scapulam, 69 Aeneid (Virgil), 158 Aeschylus, 4 "Against All the Heresies" 0ustin Martyr), 239 Against the Spectacles (Tertullian), 101 Agathias of Myrina, 169, 171-74, 178, 187n88 Alamanni people, 171, 187n88; aspects of society, 171-72 Alberic, 205 Alexander of Alexandria (Bishop), 139 Alexander the Great, 159, 166 Alienation, 37 Amand de Mendieta, Emmanuel, 31n61 Ambrose (Bishop), 99, 243, 258 Ammianus Marcellinus, 128, 234, 248 Ammonius, 41 Antoninus Pius, 241 Apollo, 127, 135 Apologetics, 37 Apology 0ustin Martyr), 37, 39, 45, 238, 241 Apostles, 7 Apostolic Constitutions, 24, 101 Apthartodocetism, 243 Apuleius, 246, 247 Archytas, 62 Aristeas, Aurelius, 66 Ariston of Syracuse, 63 Aristotle, 185n69 Arius, 55n31, 139, 141, 142

Armenia, 169-71 Artemeis, Aurelia, 65 Asclepius, 238 Assimilation, 44; away from cuits, 41; cultural transformation and, 157; degrees of, 41; early presence of problems with, 48; strategies of, 37; of subject peoples, 169; toward culture, 41 Asrrology, 13, 14 Attis, 63; cult of, 7 Augustine, 7, 34n97, 236, 247, 254-61; conversion of, 1, 27n20; denial of sacraments to prostitutes, 87; Dolbeau Sermons of, 110; effort to change the habits of Christians, 190; model of conversion by, 236 Augustus (Emperor), 109 Authority: biblical, 52n12; centralized, 38; Christian, 225; conflicts over, 38; disruption of normative structures of, 37; early presence of problems with, 48; exegetical, 38; imperial, 38, 85; negotiation of, 49; philosophieal, 45; religious, 225; spiritual, 40; subversion of, 45; theologieal, 38 Bacchus, 62 Baptism: actualization of moments of fusion in, 17; administration of, 17; authentie, 53n14; benefits of, 34n94; of blood, 18; child, 18; confirmation and, 6; cosmology and, 2; death bed, 88, 89, 99; delayed, 33n79, 99; denial of, 89; differing notions of, 22, 23; as elite event, 2-3, 20-21; as equivalent of heavenly citizenship, 14; figurative, 17; Gregory of Nazianzus and, 1-24; illumination and, 17; incarnation and, 16, 17; into incarnation of ]esus Christ, 6; incentives for, 99; as initiation into

273

274

INDEX

Baptism (continued) mystery, 24; interpretations of meaning of, 21; of ]esus Christ, 5, 25n8; language of, 27n22; late antiquity catechumens and, 98-104; Lent and, 100, 101; light and, 33n78; markers of, 20; of the martyrs, 18; by metropolitans, 21; as moment, 20; new faith and, 18; as opportunity to exhibit faith, 247; order of celebration of, 6; of pagans, 211; of the poor, 18, 34n95; preparation for, 18, 98-99, 100; as process, 6, 20; programs of correction after, x; purification and, 3, 17, 18, 20, 21, 33n78, 33n82; as rebirth, 18, 27n22, 33n81; religious conversion and, 1-24; renunciation of the devil and, 10 1; rivalries of, 20-24; salvation and, 17; of scaenici, 115n23; shortening of preparation for, 99; social status and, 247; spiritual, 17, 18; sponsorship for, 103; of stage performers, x, 84-111, 225; subsequent conduct and, 102, 103; of tears, 18; for those in public office, 33n84; transformation through, 187n94; writing and, 19 Barbarians: change and, 153; communal identities of, 154; in ethnographie writing, 155; exclusion of women from succession, 169-70; given citizenship by Romans, 154; imperial rule and, 153; legal reform and, 169-71; Romanization of, 157, 158 Barnes, T. D., 133 Basilides (Bishop), 70 Basil of Caesarea, 2, 99, 246 Baugulf (Ab bot), 192 Beaucamp, ]oelle, 108 Being: formation of, 16; possession by God, 15 Benedict of Aniane, 200 Bhabha, Homi, 37, 58n59 Black Damasus, 235 Boniface, 196 Brakke, D., 41 Brent, A., 41 Brown, Peter, 27n20, 230 Buildings (Procopius), 163-67, 184n60, 243, 250, 251, 253 Burial: Christian, 69-71; collective graves and, 62, 63; conversion and, 61-74;

crowning tombs with roses, 66; as family affair, 61, 62, 63, 68, 72, 227, 228; for freed slaves, 71; funerary gardens, 63; Greco-Roman, 66; hypogea and, 65, 67; individual distinction and, 62; individual sepulchres and, 63; inscriptions and, 61; ]ewish/Non]ewish, 64-69; in late Roman Empire, 61-74; mortuary funds for, 72, 73; necessity of conversion to cult and, 62; role of synagogue in, 67; separate, 65; site selection, 61, 62; sites for, 227 Byzantium: Christi an identity of, 152; as continuation of Roman empire, 178n2; resiliency of, 152; sense of identity, 160; social transformation of, 177; treatment of foreigners, 159 Calderon, Maria, 120n61 Calendars, Roman, 6 Cameron, Averil, 40, 171 Capitulatio de partibus Saxoniae (Charlemagne), 71 Cappadocian Fathers, 5, 159, 259, 260 Carneades, 13-14, 31n61 Carolingian era, 191-212 Cassiodorus, 108 Catacombs, 229; Beth She'arim, 67; Domitilla, 72; ]ewish, 67; La Magdalena, 65; pagan motifs in, 79n52; Via Labicana, 230; Via Latina, 227; Villa Randanini, 64, 79n52 Catechumens: baptism in late antiquity, 98-104; baptism of tears for, 18; instruction of, 6; Pelagia, 84 Celsus, 45, 46, 48, 51n8 Cemeteries, 64. See also Catacombs; EI Ibrahimiya, 66; Gamart, 67; "]ewish," 65; lack of control of, 227; private, 64; Via Labicana, 228 Change: capability for, 6; cultural, 15278; religious, 191, 211, 212n5 Charlemagne, 71, 190, 193, 196, 215n18, 258 Christianity: acculturation to local custom by, 194; appropriate, 1%; archaie, 191; assumptions on, 41; baptism and, 17; burial and, 69-71; conflict within, 38; confrontation with false belief in, 238; contrast with Hellenism, 36, 37, 43, 47, 48, 52n12; convergence/divergence

INDEX with Judaism, 50n2; conversion of Tzani people, 163-69; correct, 190, 192, 211, 212n5; cultural change and, 152-78; diversity of forms of, :;On2; emperors and, 243-54; establishment of as religio licita, 99; ethnography and, 152-78; expansion of, 133; forced conversion to, 160, 167; funerary separatism and, 69; homemade, 236; imperial, 160; integration with state ideology, 159, 160-69; intellectual origins of, 42; limited reach of formal ecclesiastical structures of, 235-43; medieval, 191; mimicry and, 45; multiplicity in, 38, 41; ordinary, 197; orthodox, 46, 49; paradigms of change through conversion in, 159; persecution of, 53n14, 130; philosophy and, 44; pluralities in, 211; predominance of, 154; prescriptive, 224; Roman, 153; self-identity of, 36; slow adaptation to, 85-86; spread of, 194; as sum of ancient wisdom, 42; survival of Roman plurality by, 40; as third race, 52n12; traditional narrative of, 36, 40; as truth, 58n57; as work in progress, 41 Christianization: correction and, 190; emendation and, 190; ethnographie writing and, x; in late antiquity, 85-86; limits of, 91; nature of, 85-86; process of persuasion in, 86; scope of, 85-86; stage performers, imperviousness to, 84 Chronicle (Eusebius), 143 Chronographia (Malalas), 93 Chrysostom, John, 11, 94, 99, 100, 102, 103, 111, 119n49, 232, 233 Church of the Holy Sepulchre, 139, 140, 143 Citizenship: gradations of, 154; granted to all in Roman empire, 158; heavenly, 14, 24; inscription and, 10; Roman, 154; for Tzani people, 169 City 0/ God (Augustine), 258 Claudius Gothicus (Emperor), 135 Clement, 32n69, 55n31 Clifford, James, 152 Column of Phocas, 246 Community: barbarian, 156; Christian imperial, 159; cult of, 48; defining, 41; episcopal, 55n31; of faith, 154, 156; under Erankish kings, 194; imperial,

275

153;· integrated, 153; mainstream, 41; non-Roman, 156; Pythagorean, 62; true, 48 Confessions (Augustine), 7, 236, 247, 259 Confirrnation: baptism and, 6 Constantine and Ettsebius (Barnes), 133 Constantine (Emperor): absence of Christian allusion in statue of, 128; association with bishops, 139; autobiography of, 127-30; batde with Licinius, 134, 135, 136; in Bethlehem, 139; Christian persecution and, 131; commitment to Christianity, 244-45; comparison with father, 131, 132; concern with loyalty of troops, 138; conversion of, 85, 98-99, 127-48; divine support for, 136; ideologies of legitimation of, 135; in Jerusalem, 139, 140, 143; life of, 134-37; links with Apollo, 138; meaning of bronze statue of, x, 145-48; meeting with Eusebius, 131; moments of crisis for, 134, 135, 136, 13 7; personal acceptance of Christianity, 131; relationship with Jesus Christ, 139, 140; sequence of conversion, 134; significance of reign of, 133; statue of, 127, 128, 145-48, 246; story of, 137-41; in tetrarchie order, 246; triumphal arch at Rome and, 136; universality of imperial rule of, 128; views on paganism, 132, 133, 135, 136; visionary status of, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138 Constantinople: Church of Holy Wisdom, 127; Church of the Holy Aposdes, 127, 145; development as center of Christian community, 159; Forum of, 127; Hippodrome, 127, 128; statue of Constantine in, 127, 128, 145-48 Constantius (Emperor), 107, 130, 131, 132 Constitutio Antoniniana, 158, 169 Contra lvIarcellum (Eusebius), 142-43 Conversion: baptism and, 1-24; burial and, 61-74; to Christianity, 53n14, 6971, 73; community knowledge of, 81n73; complete, IX; conscious choice and, 26n17; control of, 225; defining, 4, 7; differing meanings of, 225; as illumination, 1; of individuals, 84; inscriptions and, 1-24; internal change

INDEX

Conversion (continued) and, 26n17; to Judaism, 64; as metanoia, 6; narratives, 198-99; negotiations over, 87; of Paul, 7; as personal event, ix; philosophieal, 5 3n14; private/public aspects of, 129; as problem of Hellenization, 36-50; as process, 2, 6, 7, 8; as reorientation of the soul, 7; as response to particular situations, 129; as salvation through continuous adherence, 1; self-representation and, 129; sequence of, 134; of stage performers, 84-111; texts of, 226; tranquil process of, 27n20 Correctio. See Correction Correction, 189, 190; Christianization and, 190; discipline of morals and, 192; Einhard and, 192; grounding in Roman legislative tradition, 214n16; interior, 202; relics and, 201; religious practice and, 197; route to, 204; vocabulary of, 214n15, 214n16

Cosmology: Apollinarist, 22; Arian, 2, 21, 22, 24; competing, 2; differing personalizations of Christ in, 23; Eunomian, 2, 24; Messalian, 2; moments of change in, 6; Neo-Platonic, 23; Novatian, 2, 21, 24; Platonic, 3, 6, 15, 23; rivalries of, 20-24; Sabellian, 22; understanding of, 23 Cosmos: interaction with divinity, 15 Council of Antioch, 141, 142 Council of Nicaea, 131, 137, 139, 142, 144, 244 Crescens the Cynic, 237 Cults: of Attis, 7; burial requirements of, 61-64; commitment asked by, 61; conflict with families of members and, 61; of Cybele, 7, 68, 71; diffusion of, 62; funerary inscriptions and, x; funerary practices of, 62; of Genesius, 118n39; immorality of, 45; of Isis, 7, 71, 246; local, 38; of martyrs, 230; of Mithras, 7, 68; mystery, 7, 61-64; new, 61-64; Oriental, 61-64; perseeuted, 37; public, 63, 201; relic, 190; saints', 190, 205, 212n5

Cultural: ambivalence, 48; centrality, 156; change, 152-78; definition, 175; description, 154; differentiation, 154, 155; expression, 39; generalizations, 39; his tory, 191; identity, 159, 171, 17 3;

inclusion, 154; interaction, 171-74; interconnections, 44; multiplicity, 38; necessities, 42; osmosis, 166; regression, 166; relativism, 171-74; transformation, 156, 157, 161, 165, 166, 171 Culture: classical, 190; Coptic, 183n42; generalizations about, 39; Greek, 39, 41, 166; Greek li terary, 157; Hellenie , 41; of origin, 159; religious, 191; Roman, 152; Syriac, 183n42 Cumont, Franz, 61 Cybele, 63, 68, 71; cult of, 7 Cyprian of Carthage, 70, 71, 225, 250 Cyril of Alexandria, 4 Cyril of Jerusalem, 100, 101 Damasus (Pope), 229, 230, 234, 235, 254, 262n6

Daube, David, 107 Declamations, 13, 31n57; advocacy training in, 13 De Idololatria (Tertullian), 69 Delehaye, H., 69 Demophilus (Bishop), 5, 21, 23 Demosthenes, 105 De Vita Sua (Gregory of Nazianzus), 235 Dialogtle (Justin Martyr), 43 Diocletian (Emperor), 88, 130, 131, 138, 246 Discourse: civil, 60n81; cultural ambivalence of orthodox, 48; dominant, 51n7; moral, 91; of order, 108; public, 104; of splitting, 60n81 Disobedience: salvation and, 16 Divinity: calculators of, 21; of Holy Spirit, 22; interaction with cosmos, 15; interpretation of, 14-16; light and, 17; material and, 23; nature of, 14-16 Dolbeau Sermons (Augustine), 110 "Donation of Constantine," 254 Drake, H. A., 133 Dujarer, Michel, 98 Durkheim, Emile, 191 Ecclesiastical History (Eusebius), 130, 143

Education: bilingual memorization exercises in, 12; competitive displays in, 12; legacy of, 12; mimicry and, 31n59; representation of character and, 13; Roman, 12; speech and, 13

INDEX

277

Einhard, 225, 226, 254-61; abandonment of Michelstadt by, 200; at Charlemagne's court, 193; conflict with Hilduin, 202, 204; grants from Louis the Pious, 193; influence of, 193; integrity of, 192; Roman martyrs and, 189-212; strategies of, 201 Elliott, T. G., 133, 136 Elm, Susanna, IX, 1-24, 224, 225, 235, 238, 240, 241, 257 Elllendatio. See Emendation Emendation, 190; Christianization and,. 190; Einhard and, 192; of evil ways, 190; politics of, 189-212; vocabulary of, 214n15 Enlightenment, 191 Entzattberttng, 191 Ephiphanius of Salamis, 181n17 Epiphany, 25n8, 240 Epitaphs, 8; Greek as language of, 80n66 Essence: divine, 23; implication of difference in, 23 Ethnographic writing, x; Christianization and, x Ethnography: Christianity and, 152-78; classical, 152, 154, 156, 176, 188nl13; cultural change and, 152-78; descriptions in, 157; early Byzantine, 152-78; heresy and, 181n17; law and, 159; literary, 154, 155; range of topics in, 157; Roman, 152-53, 156-58; secular genre of, 156 Euelpistus, 237 Eugenius III (Pope), 205 Eunapius, 128 Eunomius, 21, 23, 24 Eusebius, 39, 129, 139, 140, 155, 24354; biographical sketch, 130-34; heretical status of, 141; knowledge of Justin Martyr, 237; meeting with Constantine, 131; theology of, 141-44; thinks of Constantine in terms of persecution, 130, 131

Fredriksen, Paula, 7 Fulda monastery, 196, 197; location, 197; saints' shrines at, 197 Funerary garden, 63

the Fall, 16; Gregory of Nazianzus on, 32n69 Feast of the Apostles, 263n18 Feast of the Assumption, 268n137 First Apology Gustin Martyr), 38, 42 Frankish people, 171, 187n88, 189, 255; continuation of sub-Roman culture of, 187n97;' descriptions, 172

Hadrian (Emperor), 38 Hairesis, 46, 49; demonization of, 47 Heaven: as divine sphere, 16; as state of being, 16 Hebrew law: polytheistic practice and, 45 Hebrew Scripture: authority of, 46; monotheism of, 45

Galerius (Emperor), 130, 131; edicts of toleration by, 130 Genesis: adaptation of, 3; Gregory of Nazianzus on, 15; illumination and, 16 George of Pisidia, 177 Germany: early Christianity in, 196-212; paganism in, 197; relics in, x, 189-212; Roman Empire and, 194 Gideon, 68 Gleason, Maude, 39 Glykon, P. Ailios, 66, 78n47 Gnosticism, 40, 48 God: creation of universe by, 15; demand for purity by, 17; links to man, 17; possession of being by, 15; as supreme light, 16; as three limitless beings, 15; timelessness of, 15 Graffiti, 9 Grafton, Anthony, ix-x Gratian (Emperor), 88, 89 Gregory IV (Pope), 255 Gregory of Nazianzus, IX, 224, 226, 234, 235-43, 259; on baptism, 14-24; as bishop of Constantinople, 4, 25n5; classical canon of, 238; on divinity, 1416; on Emperor Julian, 12; on the Fall, 32n69; on heaven, 16; idiosyncratic nature of, 5; on illumination, 16-17; impact of, 237; on incarnation, 14-16; minority views of, 2-3, 5, 20; orations of, 4-7, 14-24; seen as philosopher, 5; stridency of, 240; terminology of light of, 16; as "The Theologian," 4; understanding of illumination, 6; use of imprinting, 6; use of inscription, 6 Gregory of Nyssa, 99 Gruen, Erich, 39 Guyon, Jean, 228

INDEX Heden (Duke), 196 Helena (Empress), 107, 228-29, 248 Helios, 127 Hellenism, x, 36; ehallenge to Roman dominanee by, 43; eontrast with Christianity, 36, 37,43,47,48, 52n12; goals of, 42-43; mimicry of, 45; morality and, 46; politieal expansion of, 38; positive attributes of, 46; rationalism of, 40; refraeting power of, 44; Roman, 39 Herades, 166 Heradius (Emperor), 28n28, 152, 153, 160, 177, 178n2 Hereules, 138 Heresiology, 37, 48; eonstruetion of apologeties and, 45 Heresy: assoeiation with falsity of, 46; as diagnostie eategory, 155; dissent as, 45; error as, 48; ethnography and, 181n17; magie and, 46, 50; philosophy and, 37, 47,50 Hermaios, M. Aurelios, 65 Hermeneumata, 12 Herosotus, 156 Hetener, Felix, 64 Hilarianus, 70 Hilaritas, Faltonia, 72 Hilduin (Abbot), 202, 204, 205, 254, 255 Himerius, 31n57 Hippolytus, 50, 87, 98, 263n18 Historia Augusta, 64 History (Eusebius), 132, 133 Homilies on the Gospel 0/ John (Chrysostom), 100 Homilies on the Gospel 0/ Matthew (Chrysostom), 94 Homily on the Gospel 0/ Matthew (Chrysostom), 100 Hrabanus Maurus, 197 Hume, David, 7 Hybridity, 38, 58n59; diffieulty of evaluating, 52n12; in philosophical Christianity, 45; subversive nature of, 38 Hypogea, 65 Iambliehus, 35n105 Identity: baptismal, 43; Christian, 85, 86, 104, 152, 249; communal, 154; eultural, 159, 171, 173; ethnie, 36, 159, 194; Greek, 50n6; group, 62;

loeal, 43, 51; male, 95-98, 110; multiple, 36, 37, 42; personal, 50n6; politieal, 194; provineial, 154; regional, 154; religious, 38; Roman, 38, 42, 50n6, 154; self, 41; shaping, 36; subjeetive, 154; systematieity of, 42; universalizing, 42 Illumination, 16-17, 242; baptism and, 17; Genesis and, 16; language of, 6, 35n105; oeeurrenee of, 8; proeess of, ix; as purifieation, 17; terminology of, 1; true transformation and, 2 Imperialism: legaeies of, 36 Inearnation, 5, 14-16, 242; baptism and, 7, 16, 17; as eentral event, 16; of Jesus Christ, 6-7; of the Logos, 16, 45; as proof of Son's inferiority, 23 Inseriptions: on bronze tablets, 9, 10; citizenship and, 10; on eoins, 27n25; eonversion and, 1-24; eult adherenee and, 63; epitaphs, 8; funerary, x, 61, 63; graffiti, 9; interior, 62; Jewish, 78n48; language of, 35n105; life hierarehies and, 10; as means of eommunication, 8; misreading of, 247; offieial aets and doeuments as, 9, 10; olltward appearanee and, 10; pamphlets, 11; preservation of, 8; on publie buildings, 9; purposes of, 8; signifieanee of, 3; soeial status and, 10; as sourees of study, 8; tattoos, 10; as transformations, 7-14; true transformation and, 2; voeabulary of, 1, 2; as writings co gods, 9 Irenaeus, 41, 45, 47, 48, 58n60; as biblieal theologian, 5 5n3 7; as bishop, 55n37; refutation of, 48 Isaae, 21 Isis, 71, 246; eult of, 7 Islam: rise of, 177 Jaeob, 68 Jacob of Sarugh, 104 James, William, 7 Jerome, 255, 263n18 Jesus Christ: baptism of, 3, 5, 18, 25n8; birth of, 25n8; erueifixion/resurreetion, 139-40; inearnation of, 5, 6; interpretations of nature of, 154; as the Logos, 49; relationship to God, 141, 154 John of Ephesus, 104-5, 123n95

INDEX lohn of Epiphania, 174 lohn of ]erusalem, 100, 101 lohn the Baptist, 17, 120n61 lohn the Evangelist, 4 Jonathan, 68 ]o~eph, 68 ]ovian (Emperor), 11 ]udaism, 36; burial practices, 64-69; convergence/divergence with Christianity, 50n2; conversion to, 64; lack of rules on choice of grave, 68; punishment for conversion, 64; role ~f synagogue in burial site, 67 ]ulian (Emperor), 11, 12, 33n82 ]ulianus, 89 ]upiter, 135, 138, 238 ]upiter Doliehenus, 64 ]upiter Heliopolitanus, 64 luster, ]ean, 67 ]ustinian (Emperor), 105, 106, 107, 108, 152,153,159,175, 178n2, 243,251, 252, 253; conquest of the Tzani, 16069; ethnography of, 161; as facilitator of cultural change, 177; law of 536, 169; marriage to Theodora, 106; system of belief of, 167, 177 ]ustin Martyr, x, 225, 235-43; choice of dress after baptism, 43-44, 57n48; as colonial subject/religious subject, 38, 42; conversion of, 36-50; defined by texts, 237; "doubling" and, 37, 38, 51n9; impact of, 237; literary presentation of Christianity, 42; mimesis of philosophical forms, 38; mimicry and, 45, 48; as philosopher, 38, 58n52; reflections on logos, 58n59; universalism of theology of, 38, 42; as work in progress, 41; writings of, 37 Kish, 68 Knowledge: ethnographie, 162; transcendent, 41; of truth, 17 lactantius, 135 lampe, P., 41 language: of illumination, 1, 6, 35nl05; in inscription, 35n105; local, 160; nonRoman, 157; of visions, 134 laws and edicts: as agents of change, 1011; Constantinian, 29n37; inscribed on

279

bronze tablets, 9, 10, 29n37; tearing down, 11; Valentinian, 29n37 lazi people, 171-74 leah, 68 le Boulluec, Alain, 45, 47, 48 lent, 100, 101 leo I (Pope), 90 leo In (Pope), 192 leo IV (Pope), 268n137 leon, Harry, 64, 67 libanius, 31 n5 7 Liber Syroromantls, 87 lieinius (Emperor), 130, 140, 245; batde with Constantine, 134, 135, 136; support for Christianity, 132 Lift 0/ Charlemagne (Einhard), 192, 206 Li/e 0/ Constantine (Eusebius), 131, 132, 133, 137, 143, 144, 147 Lift 0/ Maryl Marinus, 98 Lift 0/ Porphryr the Mime, 92-94 Lift 0/ St. Pelagia, 84, 231, 235, 247 light: baptism and, 33n78; divinity and, 17; God as, 16; Trinity and, 32n71 lim, Richard, x, 84-111, 225, 226, 231, 233, 257 logos: command of heavenly armies by, 144; incarnation of, 16, 45; ]esus Christ as, 49; saving man from consequences of disobedience, 6 lorsch monastery: Nazarius relics at, 197 lothar, 193, 204 louis the Pious, 189, 193, 200, 202, 204, 205; correctio and, 189 lucian of Samosata, 40, 159 lucius, 246, 247 lyman, Rebecca, x, 36-50, 225, 235 Maas, Michael, x, 152-78, 225, 243-54 Macedonius (Bishop), 21 MacMullen, Ramsay, 85-86 Magi, 5, 25n8 Magie: heresy and, 46, 50; rise of, 191 Malalas, lohn, 93 Manitius, Max, 210 Marcellinus and Peter, 189, 190, 192, 194, 196, 205, 210, 228, 229, 235, 254, 257; cult of, 193; curative powers of, 203, 205; display of relics of, 220n82; miracles by, 198, 200, 201, 202; trans formative effect of, 203

280

INDEX

Mareellus of Aneyra (Bishop), 143 Mareian (Emperor), 107, 123nlOO Marcion of Pontus, 58n60, 239 Mareus Aurelius (Emperor), 40, 241, 265n72 Martialis (Bishop), 70 Marx, Karl, 191 Mary the Egyptian, 97, 98 Matter: aseension of, 3; inferiority of, 23; as opposite of divine, 23; physieal, 3; saving, 3 Maxentius (Emperor), 130, 135, 136, 228, 245, 246; battle with Constantine, 133, 135; despieable behavior of, 132; support for Christianity, 132 Maximian (Emperor), 88, 134, 135 Maximinus (Emperor), 130 Maximus of Alexandria, 236, 237 Mazarius, 197 MeLynn, Neil, ix, x, 119n51, 224-61 Meletius, 249 Memory: theories of, 30n55; writing and, 12 Menander Protector, 174, 175, 187nlOO, 239 Mereurius, 72, 248 Metanoia, 6 Michelstadt, 193, 194; abandonment of, 200; ground plan, 199/ig, 200; loeation, 194, 195/ig; relies at, 200; settlement around, 198 Mills, Kenneth, ix-x Mimesis, 13, 31n59 Mimiery, 31n59, 37; of Christianity, 45; destruetive, 46; of Hellenism, 45, 48; Justin Martyr and, 45; of orthodoxy, 46 Mithras, 63, 68; adepts of, 61, 62; eult of, 7 Moles, M. Aurelios, 65 Monotheism, 40, 45 Moral: judgment, 14; order, 108 Morality: Hellenism and, 46; simple, 46 Moreschini, Claudio, 5 Morrison, Karl, 7 Moses, 131; baptism of, 17 Mulinheim, 189, 190, 192, 193, 211, 223nl19; eopying St. Peter's Cathedral, 206, 207fig; eorreetion and, 205; foundation stories of, 200; loeation, 194, 195/ig, 197, 219n67; movement of martyrs to, 200, 201; relies at, 194, 200, 201, 203; seeond ehureh at, 206, 207/ig; settlement around, 198

Mystagogical Catecheses (John of Jerusalem), 100, 101 Nachleben, 112n6 Narratives: conversion, 198-99; hagiographieal, 201; traditional Christian, 36, 40 Nature: divine, 15 "Neighborhood of the First Gate," 66, 78n47 Neymeyr, U., 41 Nieene Creed, 142 Nock, Arthur Derby, 7, 26n17, 101, 225 North, John, 61 Novel (Justinian), 168, 186n82 Numenius of Apamea, 39, 41 On Baptism (Gregory of Nazianzus), 4 On Epiphany (Gregory of Nazianzus), 238 On ldolatry (Tertullian), 101 On the Nativity (Gregory of Nazianzus ), 4 Origen, 14, 39, 50 the Other: differenees of, 60n81

Paganism, 3, 17; eradieation of, 160; evolution of, 61; in Germany, 197; oppression of Christians and, 70; plurality of, 40; rites of, 70 Paideia, 42, 43, 48, 49, 159 Palladius, 234 Pallas Athena, 128 Paradise, 16 Paseasius Radbertus, 205 Pasehal I (Pope), 206, 208 Paterfamilias, 13; absolute authority of, 117n34; rules on disposition of family members, 90 Patronage: competition for, 40 Paulinus, Anieius, 89 Pax Romana, 158 Pedagogy: writing and, 12 Penitenee, 6, 21 Persecution: of Christians, 53n14 Philosophy: Christianity and, 44; dialeetieal, 38; discourse, 37; heresy and, 37, 47, 50; incorporating loeal soure es of wisdom, 41; monotheism and, 45; Platonic, 55n37; rationalism of, 40; as representation of Christianity, 47; seholastie, 39; Stoie, 55n37; traditional authority of, 44;

INDEX

transeendent, 44, 45; transeending loeal identity through, 43 Pippin III (King), 196 Plato, 39, 44; cosmology of, 15 Platonism, 39, 51n8; Numenian, 44; Pythagorean, 41, 45 Plotinus, 14 Plutareh, 159 Pneumatikoi, 22, 24 Polities: of personal ambition, 40 Polytheism, 40 Porphyrogenitus, Constantine, 174 Porphyry of Antioeh, 234 Posteolonialism, 36, 38 Power: eentralized, 36; eurative, 203, 205; divine, 138; imperial, 138, 166; politieal, 36; transformative, 24; of writing, 13, 19 Proeess: baptism as, 6; of eonversion, 2; fusion of moment with, 16; of illumination, IX; of purifieation, 20; supernatural, 7 Procopius, 106, 109, 123n93, 161-63, 178, 185n69, 226, 244, 250, 252, 253; panegyrie writing, 163-67 Prostitution, 87; ehildren in, 117n33; prohibition against selling daughters into, 90; slaves and, 90 Ptolemaeus, 66 Ptolemy, 48 Publie stage: admonitions against attendanee at speetacles of, 102; antipathy to ehureh, 87; as antithesis of ehureh, 86; conversion and, 84-111; disappearanee of eertain forms of speetacle and, 85-86; entertainments offered, 86; imperviousness to Christianization, 84; Nachleben and, 112n6; opposition of ehureh to, 84; pantomimes, 111; parodies of Christian rites on, 94; regarded as amoral, 87; seeular nature of, 104; as souree of corruption, 87; transvestism and, 95-98, 110 Purifieation: baptism and, 18, 19, 20, 21, 33n78, 33n82; lifelong, 24; as lifelong proeess, 21; proeess of, 20 Pythagoras, 39 Quadragesima, 100 Quintilian,. 31n57

28r

Radeie, 193, 194, 198, 205, 206, 223n119 Rebeeea, 68 Rebillard, Erie, x, 61-74, 99, 225, 226, 227 Reform, 191; inner spiritual regeneration and, 192 Relies: eorreetion and, 201; cults of, 190; distribution of, 202; in Germany, x, 189-212; at Michelstadt, 200; miracles surrounding, 198, 200, 201, 203; proeessions with, 203; Roman, x, 209, 211; shifting attitudes toward, 213nlO Religion: arguments over universality of, 39; authentieity in, 38; behavior shaping and, 173; in imperial period, 39; indeterminaey of, 38; loeative, 45; multiplieity of forms of, 50n2; reason and, 173; traditional eategories of, 37; wave theory of, 50n2 Restitutus, Mareus Antonius, 72 Rigibert (Bishop), 196 Robert, 1., 65 Roman: burial, 61-74; Christianity, 153; citizenship, 154; culture, 152; dominanee ehallenged by Hellenism, 43; edueation, 6, 12, 39; entertainments, 86; ethnography, 152-53, 156-58; hegemony, 42; identity, 50n6, 154; imperialism, 173; justifieation of imperialism, 158; law, 154; love of publie speetacles, 102; martyrs, 189-212; relies, x; self-definition, 158; urban administration, 85-86 Rusticus, 242 Sabazios, 63 Saerifiees, publie, 85-86, 86 Said, Edward, 36, 40 Sta Prassede ehureh, 206, 208fig, 209, 209fig St. Agnes, 235 St. Cosma, 208 St. Damiano, 208 St. Genesius of Ades, 118n39 St. Luke, 7 St. Paul, 14, 64, 155, 208; on giving offense to the heathen, 69; on idolatry, 69; Lukan eonversion of, 7 St. Pelagia, 94-98, 103, 109, 118n45, 119n55, 120n60, 226, 231, 232 St. Peter, 208

INDEX

St. Praxedis, 208 St. Sebastian, 205 Salvation, 16; achieving, 3; baptism and, 17; interpretations of, 2 Samson, 68 Sandilkh, 175 Satan, 189; baptism and, 84; renunciation of, 101 Saturni us, 21 Saul, 68 Scripture: adaptation of, 3 Scythians, 156 Second Sophistic, 158, 159, 166 Secret History (Procopius), 106, 253 Self: formation of, 12; late antique, 40 Semahot, 68 Sententiae (Paul) , 64 Severianus, 72 Severus, Sulpicius, 87, 88 Severus of Antioch, 105, 109, 111 Simon Magus, 238 Sin: actuality of, 32n69; causes of, 16; impossibility of, 3; interpretation of, 32n69 Sitz im Leben (Nock), 7 Smith, Julia, x, 189-212, 225, 254 Social: analysis, 156; change, 166; mobility, 39, 40, 43, 88; order, 12, 13; processes, 225; self-definition, 165; status, 247 Socrates, 44 Sol, 135 Sopatros, 31n57 Sophists, 48 Soul: free will and, 14; illumination of, 17; purification of, 17; renewal of, 192 Speech: Christian, 50; education and, 13; hegemonie, 50; performative acts, 13 Stage performers, 232, 233, 234; baptism of, x, 84-111, 225; chastity and, 108; children of, 87-88; conversion of, 84111; difficulty in recruitment of, 89; forced back into service, 89, 90; hagiography of penitent actresses, 9498; marriage to, 107; martyrologies of, 91-94; mimes, 119n49, 126nl17; obstacles for in receiving baptism, 90, 91; penitent, 105-9; performing after baptism, 88; refusal of sacraments to, 87; rehabilitation of, 104-9; social mobility of, 88

Status: hereditary, 10; social, 10 Stephen (Bishop of Rome), 70 Stereotypes: ethnic, 176; racist, 60n81 Strategikon 0/ Maurice, 175, 176 Structuralism, 191 Superstition, 59n70, 191, 210 Tacitus, 158 Talmud: on burial, 68 Tatian (Emperor), 45, 47, 52n12, 237 Tau/mimus, 92, 103 Tertullian, 45, 50, 69, 70, 101, 104, 111 Theodora (Empress), 106, 107, 123n95, 208; elevation of, 107; former stage actress, 106, 107; founding of convent by, 109 Theodosian Code, 64 Theodosius (Emperor), 3, 5, 24, 89, 240, 241, 249, 257 Theology: defensive, 40; of Eusebius, 14144; intellectual origins of Christian, 42; of Justin Martyr, 38, 42 Theophany, 5, 240, 241 Theophylact Simocatta, 176, 178 Theurgy, 35n105 Tiburtius, 254, 255 Tomb of the Patriarchs, 68 Tosefta, 68 Tradition, hierarchies of, 44 Trajan (Emperor), 38 Translation and Miracles 0/ Sts. Marcellinus and Peter (Einhard), 193, 203-4, 206, 210, 255, 256 Transvestism, 95-98, 110 Trinity: light and, 32n71 Truth: accessibility of, 45; apostolic, 4748; Christianity as, 5 8n5 7; establishing, 44; knowledge of, 17; original, 44, 46, 58n57; revealed, 40, 45, 49; search for, 57n47; simple, 40; subversion of, 47; transcendent, 44, 48, 49; universal, 48 Twelve Tables, 90 Tzani people, 160-69, 184n47, 185n62, 226, 250-54; characteristics of, 167; as citizens, 169; conversion to Christianity, 163; cultural transformation of, 16169, 165, 166; in the law, 168-69; literary context of, 163; political condition of self-rule of, 163; in Procopius's Wars, 161-63; revolt by, 166; subjugation of, 168

INDEX

Universalism, 39 Ursinus, 234 Valens (Emperor), 88 Valentinian (Emperor), 88, 89 Valentinus, 48 Van Dam, Raymond, x, 127-48, 243-54 Verus, Lucius, 241 Vietor, 21 Virgil, 158 Vita Karoli (Einhard), 190 Vita Pelagiae, 95-98, 101, 102, 104, 110 Wala, 204 Wars (Procopius), 161-63, 251, 252 Weber, Max, 191 Weismann, Werner, 91 Wiggo, 189-212, 205 Will: erisis of, 27n20; ftee, 14, 16 Williams, Margaret, 65, 67 Williams, Michael, 48 Williams, R., 41 Willibrord, 196

Wisse, F., 41 Writing: about cultural change, 158-59; astrology and, 13, 14; baptism and, 19; eanonieal, 48; formation of self through, 12; formative power of, 13; inseriptions as, 12; meanings assoeiated with, 12; memory and, 12; panegyrie, 163-67; pedagogy and, 12; philosophiealpedagogieal aspeets of, 13; social order and, 12; teehnieal aspeets of, 30n55; as trans formative aet, 12; transformative powers of, 19 Writing, ethnographie, 153; Christianity and, 155; decline in, 174-77; ethnographie thought and, 154, 155; in Roman empire, 156-58; in Roman law, 154; varieties of, 153-56 Zenobia, 44 Zoroastrianism, 172 Zosimus, 128