Quomodo historia rescribenda sit. Historical Reality and Political Power in Late Antique Hagiography
p. 435-447
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1Among the many marvellous anecdotes that populate the Late Antique biographers’ imagination, some are meant to strike the sensibility of the reader while maintaining a veneer of credibility: in numerous episodes, the protagonist is portrayed as the privileged interlocutor of a monarch. The correspondence between Ambrose, bishop of Milan, and the queen of the Marcomanni, addressee of a catechetical letter not devoid of political echoes (Paul. Med., Vita Ambr., 36.2), is only one example of this fascinating relationship between holy men and power. From the rural Gaul of Martin of Tours to the rich Constantinople of Porphyry of Gaza, this biographical topos takes various forms, thus allowing the biographer to profoundly despise or sincerely exalt the sovereign, and showing the modern-day historian a complex and unexpected panorama.
2While it is true that “chi scrive opere agiografiche non ha nessuna intenzione di essere oggettivo”1, it cannot be denied that Late Antique biography often aims to take the shape of a credible account, claiming to be a true historiographical work2. This situation becomes far more intricate when the author’s wish to glorify the saint comes into conflict with what other sources testify: the result of this contradiction is a version of the events which mixes (often in a very refined way) pure fiction and plausibility. Such a practice, however alien to the mentality of the modern-day scholar, hides a sometimes programmatic intention to rewrite history, connecting minor or major events under the safe aegis of a religiously oriented interpretation.
3In my paper, I would like to deal with this phenomenon of rewriting, by analysing its political implications through the study of the representations of monarchic power in three Late Antique hagiographies. Thus, taking into account the role of the saint in anecdotes centred on the protagonists of political history, it will be possible to investigate what historical view emerges from these ideologically oriented writings.
4Fascinatingly, the “father of Christian history” is also the author of the first biography of a Christian emperor. Unlike the Ecclesiastical History, which will soon become a model for the writing of Church history3, Eusebius of Caesarea’s Life of Constantine will have a much more limited influence on the fate of Late Antique biography4. However, the still lively debate on the historiographical value of this βίος5 aptly demonstrates that the bond which links Christian historiography and hagiography is something more than a mere matter of authorship. A v-century example shows the complexity of this bond. Socrates Scholasticus opens his Ecclesiastical History with a critical remark on the reliability of the Life of Constantine, since Eusebius “has but slightly treated of matters regarding Arius, being more intent on the rhetorical finish of his composition and the praises of the emperor, [as in an encomium,] than on an accurate statement of facts” (Socr. Sch., HE, 1.1.2; transl. Zenos 1890, 1, with adaptations). A Late Antique reader would probably have been surprised to find out that, in many passages of his work, the same historian uses the Life as his only source of information6. This patent contradiction is the symbol of Eusebius’ success as a biographer: like any self-respecting Late Antique βίος, the Life of Constantine aims to praise its protagonist while offering its audience a credible account. Although Socrates recognises this laudatory nature, he lets the πανηγυρική ὑψηγορία of biography contaminate the γενόµενα accurately described by history.
5Nowadays, no historian would believe in such a Manichaean distinction. Leaving aside the debate on the Life of Constantine, the importance of hagiographical sources for the study of the past is widely acknowledged7. At any rate, accounts featuring a monarch allow the scholar not only to reconstruct some aspects of political history, but also to observe how the biographer reshapes them in accordance with his ideals. My brief overview of some of these narratives will start with the late Life of Porphyry of Gaza, whose historical reliability is largely discussed by T. D. Barnes in his seminal study on early Christian martyrological and hagiographical literature8. In the second of the three main sections of this βίος, the saint bishop goes to Constantinople to obtain imperial support for demolishing the pagan temples of Gaza (Vita Porph., 33-56)9. During his stay, the protagonist, accompanied by his biographer Mark the Deacon10 and his friend John, metropolitan of Caesarea, encounters the empress Eudoxia several times and finally is allowed an audience with her husband Arcadius. Being narrated in first person by the author, these events easily acquire an aura of credibility (which actually surrounds the entire biography). Furthermore, the abundance of spatial and temporal indications makes the account resemble a diary or a chronicle (and this allows modern editors to often add to the title of each chapter the exact date in which the events occur11). However, what really draws the attention of the scholar is the continuous presence on the stage of historical or presumed historical characters, who act in a very plausible way. When Porphyry and his companions arrive in Constantinople, they are received by the famous archbishop John, who exhorts them to have hope in the mercies of God: although he fell from grace at court because of a quarrel with the empress (probably an allusion to a widespread legend contradicted by Late Antique historians; Socr. Sch., HE, 6.11.17 and 6.18.1-11; Soz., HE, 8.2-3; 16-1712), he can ask a powerful eunuch to intercede for them with her (Vita Porph., 37). The meeting between Porphyry and John is inserted in a realistic framework based on a controversy which should be known to the cultured reader. However brief, Chrysostom’s speech has something of the eloquence to which his audience is accustomed13, in accordance with what Late Antique rhetorical manuals say about ethopoeia14. Furthermore, it has the benefit of introducing the eunuch Amantius15, who plays a key role in the account of Porphyry’s Constantinopolitan expedition. Thanks to his position at court, this pious castrensis helps the bishop of Gaza to obtain a meeting with the empress. Moreover, his testimonies allow the internal narrator to report two private dialogues between Eudoxia and Arcadius which Mark the Deacon could not know directly (Vita Porph., 41 and 49). Given the importance of the witness, the truthfulness of these testimonies should be taken for granted. Nonetheless, this Amantius is otherwise unattested and his identification with known historical figures is still debated. At any rate, these issues do not bother the reader: who could ever call into question the historicity of a character accurately described by John Chrysostom?
6The first dialogue between Porphyry and Eudoxia is preceded by a detailed introduction (Vita Porph., 39):
Τῇ δὲ ἑξῆς µεταπέµπεται ἡµᾶς ὁ κουβικουλάριος Ἀµάντιος διὰ δύο δεκανῶν ἀπελθεῖν εἰς τὸ παλάτιον, καὶ ἀναστάντες σπουδῇ ἐπορεύθηµεν. Εὕραµεν δὲ αὐτὸν περιµένοντα ἡµᾶς· καὶ λαβὼν τοὺς δύο ἐπισκόπους, εἰσήγαγεν πρὸς τὴν αὐγοῦσταν Εὐδοξίαν.
“The next day, the chamberlain [cubicularius] Amantius sent two court ushers [decani] to summon us to the palace and, after getting ready, we went in haste. We found him waiting for us, and he took the two bishops and then lead them inside to the augusta Eudoxia” (transl. Rapp 2000, 64).
7The narrator reports some details (the initial temporal marker, the prelates’ haste, Amantius’ wait) which make the narration more plausible. The empress, sitting on a golden couch, politely welcomes the guests16 and apologises for not having been able to meet them at the outer doors because of the weighty burden of pregnancy. The bishops marvel at her deference and reply with a biblical-sounding prophecy (Vita Porph., 39):
Ὁ εὐλογήσας τὴν µήτραν τῆς Σάρας καὶ τῆς Ῥεβέκκας καὶ τῆς Ἐλισάβετ εὐλογήσει τὸ ἐν τῇ γαστρί σου καὶ ζωώσει.
“He who blessed the womb of Sarah, and of Rebecca, and of Elizabeth, will also bless the fruit of your belly and give it life” (transl. Rapp 2000, 64).
8The reader already knows the profound meaning of these words: following the advice previously offered him by the hermit Procopius of Rhodes (Vita Porph., 36), Porphyry will soon predict that Eudoxia’s troubles on behalf of Christ will be rewarded with a son who will live and reign as emperor (Vita Porph., 42). Furthermore, the cultured reader knows that the empress will actually give birth to a male heir, namely the future Theodosius II. The rhetorical technique employed here by the biographer is extremely common in Late Antique hagiography17: a renowned historical fact is anchored to the biographical narration and presented as a product of divine will, whose intervention in the world is undeniable for a Christian audience. Thus, the author tacitly connects two indisputable certainties with his (disputable) hagiographical account, which acquires much more credibility. But there is more. Eudoxia’s commitment to the cause of Gazean Christians, demonstrated by the historically acknowledged accomplishment of the prophecy, testifies the empress’ obedience to God’s will. This is a key point in the political thought of Christian biographers: even when there is no opposition between worldly and spiritual power, Pauline doctrine permeates the hagiographical accounts featuring monarchs. If “there is no authority except from God” (Rm., 13.1, transl. NASB), the sovereign must be an instrument of the Lord as much as the saint18.
9Eudoxia’s trick to persuade her reluctant husband to antagonise the pagan taxpayers of Gaza19 is extremely astute: thanks to the complicity of a courtier, immediately after his baptism, the child will nod at the reading of a petition written by the bishops, thus compelling Arcadius to agree to their requests (Vita Porph., 46-49). The event is introduced by the description of the wonderful decoration of Constantinople, which culminates in a telling declaration of intent (Vita Porph., 47):
Τῆς δὲ ἐµῆς δυνάµεως οὐκ ἔστιν φράσαι τὴν λαµπρότητα τοῦ κόσµου ἐκείνου, ἀλλ’ ἐκείνων τῶν τὸν λόγον ἠσκηµένων. Ἐγὼ δὲ ἐπὶ τὴν παροῦσαν ἀληθῆ συγγραφὴν µετελεύσοµαι.
“To describe the splendor of this beauty is not in my power, but rather of those who are trained in speechmaking; I, for my part, shall continue with the present truthful piece of writing” (transl. Rapp 2000, 66).
10The biographer cannot produce an accurate ekphrasis, since he is not a man “trained in speechmaking”20. His simplicity, nonetheless, allows him to “continue” his veritable account, which, presumably, must have been veritable since the beginning. While denying any rhetorical training, the author chooses here the best words to offer a naïve presentation of his work. Even though there is no contempt for those refined writers who would be better at describing the splendour of the city21, the hyperbolic taste of the first sentence subtly conflicts with what follows. A careful reader can recognise here, under the veil of a pretended naïveté, a literary technique which lends credibility to the whole account by presenting it as the spontaneous product of Mark the Deacon’s autopsia.
11Some months later, before departing to Gaza, the bishops obtain final audiences with Eudoxia and with Arcadius. The episode concerning the emperor is a worthy farewell to this Constantinopolitan piece of (pretended) historiography (Vita Porph., 54):
Παρεκάλεσαν δὲ καὶ πρὸς τὸν βασιλέα εἰσελθεῖν, καὶ µηνυθέντες εἰσῆλθον. Ὁ δὲ βασιλεὺς ἐπηρώτα αὐτοὺς εἰ τελείως ἀπηλλάγησαν καὶ εἰ ἐχαρίσατο αὐτοῖς τινα ἡ αὐγοῦστα. Αὐτοὶ δὲ εἶπαν ὅτι· “Τελείως ἀπηλλάγηµεν σῳζοµένης τῆς εὐσεβείας ὑµῶν καὶ τῆς θεοφιλεστάτης ὑµῶν συµβίου καὶ τοῦ θεοφυλάκτου ὑµῶν τέκνου. Πολλὰ καὶ µεγάλα ἐστὶν τὰ χαρισθέντα ἡµῖν”. Εὐθέως δὲ καὶ ὁ βασιλεὺς ἐκέλευσεν τοῖς ἐπάρχοις δηληγατεῦσαι αὐτοῖς ἀπὸ δηµοσίων Παλαιστίνης ἀνὰ χρυσοῦ λίτρας εἴκοσι. ∆έδωκεν δὲ καὶ αὐτὸς εἰς λόγον δαπανηµάτων ἀνὰ δράκαν µίαν, ἅπερ εὑρέθησαν ἀνὰ νοµισµάτων πεντήκοντα. Πολλὰ δὲ καὶ αὐτὸν εὐλογήσαντες ἐξῆλθον. Ἐποιήσαµεν δὲ ἐν τῇ πόλει ἄλλας ἡµέρας τρεῖς, ἕως οὗ ἐλάβοµεν τὴν δηληγατιῶνα τῶν τεσσαράκοντα λιτρῶν, καὶ µετὰ τρεῖς ἡµέρας ἐµβαλόµενοι ἐπλεύσαµεν τῇ κατὰ Γαζαίους Ξανθικοῦ τρίτῃ καὶ εἰκάδι, κατὰ δὲ Ῥωµαίους Ἀπριλλίου ὀκτωκαιδεκάτῃ.
“But they asked that they might go in unto the Emperor also; and the Emperor asked them whether they were wholly quit of their business, and whether the Empress had bestowed upon them any gifts. And they said that ‘We are wholly quit, God saving your Piety, and your spouse, most beloved of God, and your son, whom God preserve, and many and great are the gifts that we have received’. And straightway the Emperor also bade the prefects to grant unto them out of the public revenues of Palestine twenty pounds of gold apiece. And he himself also gave unto them on account of their expenses one handful each, which was found to be fifty pieces of money for each. And when they had called many blessings on him also, they went forth. But we spent in the city other three days, until we received the grant of the forty pounds, and after three days we went aboard and set sail, on the three and twentieth day of Xanthikos, according to the Gazaeans, but according to the Romans the eighteenth of April” (transl. Hill 1913, 64-65).
12The overwhelming quantity of details would shake the confidence of the most sceptical historian. A plausible conversation is followed by a complete report of the emperor’s donations and by the exact date of departure, expressed according either to the Gazean and the Roman calendar. However, this striking accuracy could seem, at first sight, a mere display of the biographer’s mastery: why relating all these needless details and, consequently, emphasising the credibility of an episode which, leaving aside the importance of the actors on the stage, does not add anything to the account of Porphyry’s Constantinopolitan expedition? The answer is in the strategic position of the episode. Until now, the emperor has been described as the most serious obstacle to Porphyry’s plans: contrary to his wife, he refuses to support the Gazean bishops for political reasons (Vita Porph., 41), and for the same reasons he agrees reluctantly to the first order of his son (Vita Porph., 49). It is evident that here the biographer needs to credibly restore the reputation of Arcadius, who almost does not talk, but acts as if he repented of his errors and, before offering gifts to the guests, politely highlights Eudoxia’s generosity. The person responsible for the destruction of Gaza’s pagan temples (cf. Vita Porph., 63) cannot be depicted simply as a careful politician: Arcadius honours the saint protagonist of the Life, orders the destruction of the pagan temples of Gaza, and thus, proving to be a true servant of God’s will, embodies Paul’s doctrine of authority. Such a relevant change of mind must not be questioned. The apparently needless details which credibly frame the narrative actually play an active role in the presentation of a well-defined political and theological message.
13This brief survey of some episodes of the Life of Porphyry reveals that constructing credibility is above all a matter of witnesses. Obviously, this is true not only for biographers. It is superfluous to stress here the importance of eyewitnesses for classical historians22. However, one of the major innovations of Eusebian historiography is the zeal for direct citations: while ancient historians usually avoid a documentary approach to history writing23, deeming it rhetorically inelegant and disruptive of narrative continuity, the Ecclesiastical History is characterised by “copious citations, a generally unadorned style, and the absence of speeches”24. Nonetheless, this collection of raw material is not the only model for Late Antique historians, who, as students, surely read and paraphrased the classics25. Therefore, in the first centuries of the Christian era, the historiography debate focuses on the role of documentary and oral sources. In this regard, I would turn to the Western side of the empire and analyse some brief passages from a hagiography which cannot go unmentioned in a paper concerning tales of saints and monarchs. In his Life of Ambrose, Paulinus of Milan presents himself as the faithful secretary of the protagonist (Paul. Med., Vita Ambr., 1.1-3; 5.1; 42; 56.1) and often narrates the events as an eyewitness (Vita Ambr., 32-33; 35; 42). However, unlike Mark the Deacon, he does not follow the bishop in his encounters with secular authority. Far from invoking an Amantius who would solve any problem of sources, Paulinus mentions some documents written by the saint himself (Vita Ambr., 19.1):
Occiso itaque Gratiano imperatore recipiendi corporis eius causa secundam ad Maximum suscepit legationem. Apud quem quam constanter egerit qui uoluerit cognoscere, ipsius legationis epistulam ad Valentinianum iuniorem datam cum legerit adprobabit; nobis enim alienum a promissione uisum est illam inserere, ne adiunctae epistulae prolixitas fastidium legenti adferret.
“Thus, when the Emperor Gratian had been killed, he [scil. Ambrose] undertook a second embassy to Maximus to recover the body. And whoever wishes to learn how firmly he dealt with him will discover this by reading the letter of this legation which was handed to Valentinian the younger. But I have decided that the insertion of the letter here would constitute a departure from our promise, lest the prolixity of the letter, if inserted, bother the reader” (transl. Lacy 1952, 44).
14An Eusebian historian would probably quote the epistle in its entirety. Paulinus knows it and feels the need to justify his stylistic choice, which, in such a context, could seem somewhat suspect: the biographer indirectly alludes to Ambrose’s first embassy to the usurper Maximus and does not narrate the second encounter. It is not difficult to see why: the bishop’s second stay at the court of Trier did not have great success26 and there is no evidence that the body of Gratian was surrendered to Milan27. However, the narrative needs an indisputable proof in order not to seem false and the reference to a truthful document written by the saint himself and addressed to the legitimate emperor perfectly serves the purpose. This prudent silence is justified by the classical taste for an elegant prose style which refuses direct quotations. Even though the epistle is authentic and easily accessible to whomever wishes to read it, its prolixitas should discourage the reader. The wisest choice is to trust the biographer, acknowledging the success of Ambrose’s embassy on the basis of the credible mention of a veritable proof.
15Letters seem to be a constant in the relationships between the bishop of Milan and the sovereigns. Some chapters later, Paulinus narrates the episode of Callinicum’s synagogue. A group of Christians burns a Jewish sacred place and the emperor Theodosius orders the comes orientis to punish the criminals and arrange compensation for the victims, forcing the local bishop to bear the cost of rebuilding the synagogue. In a letter, Ambrose requests that the emperor recall these unjust orders, since they do not respect the Church (Vita Ambr., 22.3). The reconciliation between the two is witnessed by another letter (Vita Ambr., 23.4):
Haec autem scripta sunt in epistula, quam ad germanam suam fecit, in qua tractatum inseruit, quem eodem die habuerat de baculo nuceo, qui a propheta Hieremia uisus esse describitur.
“These facts, moreover, are written in the letter which he wrote to his sister, in which he inserted the sermon which he delivered that same day about the staff of the nut tree which is reported to have been seen by the Prophet Jeremias” (transl. Lacy 1952, 47).
16The epistle mentioned in this accurate bibliographical reference is exactly the source of this anecdote (Ambr., Epist., extra coll. 1.27-28). After having reported in extenso the sermon which he pronounced in the presence of the people and the emperor, Ambrose reconstructs the dialogue between him and Theodosius. Since Paulinus reports the words of the bishop rather faithfully in previous lines, there is no need to draw a comparison between the two versions of this exchange. What is far more interesting is the ample quotation from Ambrose’s sermon which precedes the reconciliation (Paul Med., Vita Ambr., 23.1):
In quo tractatu introduxit Domini personam loquentis imperatori: “Ego te ex ultimo imperatorem feci, ego tibi exercitum inimici tui tradidi, ego tibi copias, quas ille aduersum te exercitui suo parauerat, dedi, ego inimicum tuum in potestatem tuam redegi, ego de semine tuo supra solium regni constitui, ego te triumphare sine labore feci: et tu de me inimicis meis donas triumphos?”.
“In this sermon he introduced the person of the Lord as speaking to the emperor: ‘I made you emperor from the lowest; I handed over to you the army of your enemy; I gave to you the supplies which he had prepared for his own army against you; I reduced your enemy into our power; I established one of your sons on the throne of the empire; I caused you to triumph without difficulty - and do you give triumphs over me to my enemies?’” (transl. Lacy 1952, 47).
17A reader who wishes to learn the facts from the words of Ambrose himself will discover that, even though the sermon reported in the letter correctly opens with the exegesis of the biblical passage concerning the nut-tree staff seen by Jeremias, there is no prosopopeia of God who speaks against the emperor. Those expressions, nothing more than a pastiche of biblical quotations drawn from the First and Second Book of Samuel28, are actually addressed to King David (Ambr., Epist., extra coll. 1.25)29. In a manner which cannot be considered involuntary, Paulinus readapts the source, eliminating any reference to David, Nathan, and Samuel and adding some allusions to the condition of the emperor. According to the letter, Ambrose simply concluded his speech with a far more cautious admonition to Theodosius to humbly submit to the Lord and be respectful of the Church (Ambr., Epist., extra coll. 1.25). Careless of political prudence, the protagonist of the Life easily becomes God’s spokesman. The providentialistic vision which commonly underlies these hagiographical tales culminates in the intervention of the Lord through the mouth of the saint: the emperor received all his power from God and, thus, he must submit to the Church. As in the case of the embassy to Maximus, there is no need to doubt Paulinus’ version of the events. In a refined way, a skilful orator like Ambrose is portrayed as a master of prosopopeia30. Furthermore, the insertion of Ambrose’s speech is some sort of homage to the rhetorical conventions of classical historiography, and thus, in the eyes of a cultured reader, lends credibility (or, at least, respectability) to the whole account. Sometimes, in the name of Pauline political doctrine, the biographer seems to be legitimated to intentionally misinterpret the words pronounced by the saint in the presence of the monarch.
18The already mentioned correspondence between Ambrose and Fritigil, the queen of the Marcomanni, completes this picture and provides a nice example of the relationship between a saint and a sovereign who is not part of the Roman world. Having heard of the fame of the bishop from a Christian guest, the woman sends gifts to the Church and asks Ambrose to be taught about the nature of his religion. The answering letter is in the form of a catechism and will persuade the queen to travel to Milan to meet the bishop, who, at the moment of her arrival, will already be dead (Paul. Med., Vita Ambr., 36.2). Once again, the letters are not directly quoted, but this pathetic detail makes the absence of a reference to Ambrose’s epistolary go unnoticed. Paulinus’ account, which is usually deemed trustworthy by modern-day historians31, opens with a temporal marker (per idem tempus), followed by the name of the queen, which tellingly is not Latinised. However, this unusual piece of historiography is enriched with a detail which has no place in history books: urged by Ambrose’s letter, the queen persuades her husband “to entrust himself, along with his people, to the Romans” (Paul. Med., Vita Ambr., 36.2, transl. Lacy 1952, 55). This reference to the otherwise unattested king’s formal submission highlights Ambrose’s political role, thus making this brief anecdote something more than the mere story of an illustrious convert. The conversion of the monarch is accompanied by the conversion of his people, in a providentialistic movement from idolatry to the right faith. Universal history goes in the direction of a unique Christian empire, namely the empire within whose borders the Son became flesh32. A true believer must share this vision and, thus, abandon any scepticism about the anecdote. Ambrose’s political and theological move is in perfect accordance with a certain Romanocentric concept of history33.
19When talking about Ambrose’s embassies to Maximus, I omitted that Paulinus’ portrait of the usurper is very gloomy: the bishop admonishes him to do penance for his evil deeds, he haughtily refuses and soon after loses all his earthly power. While a legitimate ruler like Theodosius can, under the guidance of the saint, acknowledge his sins and repent, a usurper, who fights the divinely willed authority of the Christian emperor, is meant to be defeated. Maximus’ disregard for the words of God’s ministries is witnessed by another anecdote in Sulpicius Severus’ Life of Martin. A model of priestly firmness, the bishop of Tours does not yield to flattery and refuses the frequent invitations to the table of that “man of fierce character” (Sulp. Sev., Vita Mart., 20.1, transl. Roberts 1894, 13). Finally, it is indeed a self-absorbed interpretation of Pauline political doctrine which persuades Martin: Maximus states that he did not assume the sovereignty of his own accord, but that he simply defended the requirements of the empire according to divine will, since the favour of God does not seem wanting to him who secured the victory (Sulp. Sev., Vita Mart., 20.3). The saint, “overcome either by his reasoning or his entreaties” (Vita Mart., 20.3, transl. Roberts 1894, 13), goes to the banquet34 and there finds some important guests (Vita Mart., 20.4):
Conuiuae autem aderant, uelut ad diem festum euocati, summi atque inlustres viri, praefectus idemque consul Euodius, uir quo nihil umquam iustius fuit, comites duo summa potestate praediti, frater regis et patruus.
“Moreover, there were guests present who had been invited as if to a festival; men of the highest and most illustrious rank – the prefect, who was also consul, named Evodius, one of the most righteous men that ever lived; two courtiers possessed of the greatest power, the brother and uncle of the king” (transl. Roberts 1894, 13).
20This is the prelude to an entertaining anecdote concerning spiritual and earthly authority: after having drunk from a goblet, Martin refuses to hand it to the usurper and passes it to his own presbyter, “as thinking no one worthier to drink next to himself, and holding that it would not be right for him to prefer either the king himself, or those who were next the king, to the presbyter” (Sulp. Sev., Vita Mart., 20.6 transl. Roberts 1894, 13). This exemplum of firmness excites admiration among the bystanders and soon becomes the subject of gossip for the whole palace (Vita Mart., 20.7). The explicit mention of witnesses35 clarifies that there is no reason to question this event. However, immediately after this account, Severus inserts a far more incredible apostrophe to Maximus (Vita Mart., 20.8-9):
Eidemque Maximo longe ante praedixit futurum ut, si ad Italiam pergeret quo ire cupiebat bellum Valentiniano imperatori inferens, sciret se primo quidem impetu futurum esse uictorem, sed paruo post tempore esse periturum. Quod quidem ita uidimus. Nam primo aduentu eius Valentinianus in fugam uersus est; deinde, post annum fere, resumptis uiribus, captum intra Aquileiae muros Maximum interfecit.
“And Martin predicted to the same Maximus long before, that if he went into Italy to which he then desired to go, waging war, against the Emperor Valentinianus, it would come to pass that he should know he would indeed be victorious in the first attack, but would perish a short time afterwards. And we have seen that this did in fact take place. For, on his first arrival, Valentinianus had to betake himself to flight; but recovering his strength about a year afterwards, Maximus was taken and slain by him within the walls of Aquileia” (transl. Roberts 1894, 14).
21Even though this is probably an accurate post euentum prophecy without any historical value36, it immediately follows a trustworthy narrative. Furthermore, the absence of any temporal marker makes the reader suppose that this prediction is pronounced after the anecdote of the goblet, in the presence of many illustrious guests. Surely, Severus cannot mention any witness to this episode and, thus, he inserts it after a credible story which, despite the encomiastic tone, resembles those encounters between arrogant kings and free-speaking philosophers which are not uncommon in histories and biographies37. The evidence provided for an anecdote is here subtly extended to the following narrative, in order to create a credible framework for a prophecy which otherwise could cause scepticism.
22Severus shows a strong link between his work and classical historiography since the first lines of the Life of Martin. After a brief dedicatio, the hagiography opens with a polemical paraphrase of the incipit of Sallust’s The Conspiracy of Catiline (Sall., Catil., 1.1)38: most writers devoted their pens to the lives of famous men for mere desire of worldly glory (Sulp. Sev., Vita Mart., 1.1). Some paragraphs later, it is the turn of Livy (Liv., Praef., 1)39, whose words are borrowed to introduce a new conception of biography, which, contrary to the vain works of the past, will benefit the reader, by rousing him to pursue true knowledge, heavenly warfare, and divine virtue (Sulp. Sev., Vita Mart., 1.6). Even though Severus refers to biographies40, the choice of recalling the words of two great Latin historians raises the tone, making the following account similar to a historiographical report, thanks to the tacit mention of two solemn opening passages which were extremely well-known to cultured readers41. The distinction between earthly and spiritual reward is exactly the subject of Martin’s first discussion with a sovereign, which is narrated some chapters later. Since the barbarians are rushing within Gaul, Julian brings an army together at the city of the Vangiones and begins to distribute a donative to the soldiers. When Martin’s turn comes, the future bishop asks the Caesar to allow him to abandon the army and become a soldier of Christ. Furious at hearing such words, the tyrant declares that Martin wants to withdraw from the service for fear, and not for any religious feeling. Full of courage, the soldier challenges Julian: “If this conduct of mine is ascribed to cowardice, and not to faith, I will take my stand unarmed before the line of battle tomorrow, and in the name of the Lord Jesus, protected by the sign of the cross, and not by shield or helmet, I will safely penetrate the ranks of the enemy” (Sulp. Sev., Vita Mart., 4.5). On the following day, the enemies send ambassadors to treat about peace and surrender both themselves and all their possessions. Severus’ comment deserves to be briefly discussed (Vita Mart., 4.7-8):
Vnde quis dubitet hanc uere beati uiri fuisse uictoriam, cui praestitum sit ne inermis ad proelium mitteretur. Et quamuis pius Dominus seruare militem suum licet inter hostium gladios et tela potuisset, tamen, ne uel aliorum mortibus sancti uiolarentur obtutus, exemit pugnae necessitatem. Neque enim aliam pro milite suo Christus debuit praestare uictoriam, quam ut, subactis sine sanguine hostibus, nemo moreretur.
“In these circumstances who can doubt that this victory was due to the saintly man? It was granted him that he should not be sent unarmed to the fight. And although the good Lord could have preserved his own soldier, even amid the swords and darts of the enemy, yet that his blessed eyes might not be pained by witnessing the death of others, he removed all necessity for fighting. For Christ did not require to secure any other victory in behalf of his own soldier, than that, the enemy being subdued without bloodshed, no one should suffer death” (transl. Roberts 1894, 6).
23However historically unbelievable, the episode is assumed to be certain42. In this new type of “historiographical” biography, there seems to be no place for scepticism: the only doubt concerns the role of the saint in the victory and is reduced to some sort of rhetorical question. Far from providing evidence for the events, Severus explains why God acts this way, demonstrating that the narrative fully reflects Christ’s unquestionable love for men. Once again, a problem of credibility is solved through a change in perspective. But this time, divine intervention plays a double role, causing the humiliation of Julian and, at the same time, determining the victory of his army. The credibility of this account lies in its capacity to perfectly meet the audience’s horizon of expectation. When Severus writes the Life, memories about the victorious campaigns of the future Apostate are still alive in Gaul. Martin’s victory could in no way be presented as Julian’s defeat. Like a tragic deus ex machina, God solves this tension. In its apparent simplicity, Severus’ comment reveals to the careful reader a key concept to understanding the historical view of Christian biographers: the saint is God’s means to intervene in history. Every biography of an illustrious “holy man” is a piece of a larger puzzle, a universal history of God’s victory over paganism and scepticism.
24This vision of history is probably the most interesting feature of these hagiographical anecdotes on earthly power. In accordance with Christian reversal of values, the great men who make history are not emperors or usurpers, but saints. Such a conception results from the convergence of two major elements introduced by the new religion: firstly, the belief that history moves towards a predetermined end43; secondly, the Pauline ideal of authority, which, taken to the extreme, presupposes the submission of monarchs to the Church44. Since God’s intervention in the world is beyond dispute, history is nothing more than the chronicle of the manifestations of this intervention. The legitimate sovereign simply must accomplish the divine will. The saint must guide him in the direction predetermined by the Lord. Having been directly chosen by God, the “holy man” can orient religious events, political decisions, and even the destiny of the Roman empire.
25This role in history needs to be demonstrated. The biographer seems fully conscious of his position: he is not a true historian and his readers know that what they have in their hands is not a work of history. Certainly, paideia offers a wide range of instruments of persuasion and every pretended historical account can be refinedly enriched with details, references to proofs and eyewitnesses, credible connections with widely acknowledged historical facts. However, for a careful audience, who probably shares that same paideia and can recognise many of those persuasive techniques, this is not enough. Lending credibility to these “political” accounts has a far more profound significance: by demonstrating, also by the means offered by classical education, that Christian great men are the real protagonists of history, the author re-founds the concept of history as a definitely Christian one, in direct competition with any narration which, under the veil of a classicising taste, conceals a sceptical approach to the heroic gestures of Christian leaders. In this struggle to take the spoils of the Egyptians45, the reader is somewhat an accomplice: as a true believer, he accepts and shares this religiously oriented interpretation of events. He does not simply let the biographer persuade him of a truth which he already believes; he also participates actively in an ideological rewriting of historical facts, contributing with his faith to the construction of a political role for the man of God. Without the audience’s will to believe the unbelievable in the name of a political history dominated by the Lord and His ministries, any persuasive technique would be a mere display of rhetorical mastery. Ultimately, it is the Late Antique reader who makes a hagiographical anecdote on earthly power a true piece of political historiography.
26As usual, these conclusions raise new questions: what is the role of Patristic speculation in this hagiographical conception of political history? Is it possible to reconstruct the development of this vision through a diachronic analysis of biographies written in different times? And if so, what tendencies emerge and how can they be framed in the evolution of Christian historiography? The answers may be provided by further studies focused on a wider range of texts. However, I hope that I have succeeded in showing how a comparative analysis of hagiographies can reveal more about Late Antique conceptions of political history. Since credibility is a key issue in both biography and historiography, we need to try, as far as possible, to see them through the eyes of their contemporary readers. The necessary study of the historical reliability of these tales about power cannot do without a serious investigation of their audience’s idea of historical truth.
Notes de bas de page
1 Moreschini 2007, 183.
2 As De Temmerman 2016, 16 states: “Ancient biographers deploy a scholarly apparatus to convey veracity and underline the credibility and reliability of their accounts (so-called Beglaubigung or authentication strategies, such as reference to autopsy, eyewitnesses, written sources and autobiographical documents)”.
3 On the success of Eusebius’ historiographical model cf. Chesnut [1977] 1986.
4 Unlike the Life of Antony, Eusebius’ Life of Constantine “had no impact whatsoever on the formation of hagiographical discourse, lacking as it did the edifying strain of hagiographical writing and being intended for Christians and pagans alike” (Efthymiadis et al. 2011, 36). For a comparison between the two texts cf. Cameron 2000.
5 Cf., among others, Barnes 1989 and its discussion in Cameron 1997.
6 Cf. Van Nuffelen 2004, 455 sq. This appendix sheds light also on Sozomen’s debt to the Life of Constantine.
7 Cf. Barnes [2010] 2016, 235 sq.
8 Barnes [2010] 2016, 260-283. For a summary of this debate, see Teja 2015.
9 For the text of the Life of Porphyry, I refer to Lampadaridi 2016.
10 The biographer presents himself in Vita Porph., 3. His name is mentioned in Vita Porph., 7 and 13.
11 Cf. Grégoire & Kugener 1930, 28-45.
12 On this legend cf. Grégoire & Kugener 1930, 113-114; Lampadaridi 2016, 206-207; Sfameni Gasparro 2009, 248-249.
13 Lampadaridi 2016, 117 relates a passage of this speech to Ioh. Chrysost., in epist. ad Eph., PG 62, col. 114, 14 and in epist. II ad Thessal., PG 62, col. 477, 3.
14 Cf. Ps. Hermog. 9.1.2-3; Aphthon. 11.1.5-8; Nic. 64.10-13. On ethopoeia, see also Berardi 2017, 154-166; Amato & Schamp 2005.
15 Who was actually already cursorily mentioned in Vita Porph., 36.
16 Grégoire & Kugener 1930, 114 compare this obsequious behaviour to that described in Soz., HE, 8.13.
17 Cf., among others, the political predictions to Byzantine emperors reported in the Life of Daniel the Stylite.
18 When, in Vita Porph., 75, the saint reads Eudoxia’s letter containing the plan of the future cruciform church of Gaza, he recalls the words of Prou., 21.1: Καρδία βασιλέως ἐν χειρὶ Θεοῦ.
19 In Vita Porph., 41, Arcadius clarifies that he knows that Gazeans are idolatrous, but they are also well disposed to pay taxes.
20 On ekphrasis and its role in Late Antique cursus studiorum, see Berardi 2017, 125-140 and the seminal Webb 2009.
21 Grégoire & Kugener 1930, 39 n. 1 aptly observe that the biographer here probably alludes to John Chrysostom himself, who pompously describes an imperial cortege in In Epist. ad Rom., 14, PG 60 col. 537, 44 sq.
22 On the role of eyewitnesses and oral sources in ancient historiography, cf., among others, the studies collected in Parmeggiani 2014 ; Marincola 2007.
23 Herodotus quotes only three letters (1.124; 3.40; 122) and Thucydides only four (1.128; 129; 137; 7.11-15).
24 Adler 2008, 592.
25 Cf. Quint., Inst., 10.1.31-34. For history in Late Antique rhetorical curriculum, see also Gibson 2004. An example of Late Antique historiography which adheres quite closely to classical conventions is provided by Paulus Orosius’ History against the Pagans (cf. in this regard Zecchini 2003).
26 The letter cursorily mentioned by Paulinus (Epist., 6.30) tells us very little about the negotiations between Ambrose and Maximus. Anyway, if the true aim of the embassy was to prevent an invasion of Italy, the attempt failed: Maximus invaded Italy in summer 387, forcing Valentinian to flee to Thessalonica.
27 MacLynn 1994, 164 just states that “its ultimate fate is unknown” and then adds “Amb., De ob. Val., 79 is not evidence that Gratian was eventually buried in Milan” (p. 165 n. 25).
28 In the epistle, Ambrose reelaborates different biblical passages. Zelzer 1982, 159 refers in footnotes to 2Sam, 12.7-10; 1Sam, 22.16 sq.; 2Sam, 10.
29 Paulinus contaminates this letter with Epist., 10.74.22, in which Ambrose properly reminds Theodosius what God said to David by the prophet Nathan.
30 On the different forms and values of prosopopeia, see Berardi 2017, 256-259. Cf. in this regard the words of Theon: “Personification (prosôpopoeia) is the introduction of a person to whom words are attributed that are suitable to the speaker and have an indisputable application to the subject discussed” (transl. Kennedy 2003, 47). See also Quint., Inst., 9.2.29-34; 11.1.39-41.
31 Cf., among others, Bratož 2011, 117.
32 On the idea of the universal Christian empire in Late Antiquity, cf. Graham 2006, 155-163.
33 Oros. 7.41.7-9 proclaims the necessity of integrating Germans in the Christian empire. On the providential role of the empire in Ambrose’s thought see Dvornik 1966, 680-681.
34 “La scène est à placer à la cour de Maxime à Trèves, au cours de l’un de deux séjours qu’y fit Martin, à l’occasion de l’affaire Priscillien, avant et après la condamnation et l’exécution de l’hérésiarque, en 385/386 et 386/387” (Fontaine 1969, 913).
35 It is not clear if the two comites are the frater and the patruus. Evodius was consul in 386 (at the moment of the banquet he was probably already consul designatus). Cf. also Fontaine 1969, 932-934.
36 The possibility of its authenticity is defended in Fontaine 1969, 938-942.
37 See, among others, the famous episodes of Solon and Croesus (Hdt. 1.29-33) and Diogenes and Alexander (Plu., Alex., 14).
38 Cf. Fontaine 1968, 394-395.
39 Cf. Fontaine 1968, 414 sq.
40 It is meaningful, however, that in Sulp. Sev., Vita Mart., 1.3 the biographer mentions Hector and Socrates, who embody two ancient ideals of perfect life: the hero and the wise man. Cf. in this regard Fontaine 1968, 405-410.
41 See Quint., Inst., 2.5.19; 10.1.32.
42 Actually, no other source mentions a sudden surrender by the Vangiones. Probably, this episode should be connected to the capitulation of Franks at Cologne (see Amm. 16.3.2).
43 Cf. in this regard Adler 2008, 586-589.
44 The submission of kings to prophets is already attested in the Old Testament (cf. for example 1Sam, 13.13; 15.22-23; 2Sam, 12.7-14).
45 According to the famous interpretation of Ex, 11.2 and 12.35-36 by Origen (Epist. ad Greg. Thaum., 2-3).
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