PRIVATE WORSHIP, PUBLIC VALUES, AND RELIGIOUS CHANGE IN LATE ANTIQUITY
Conventional histories of late antique Christianity tell the story of a public institution - the Christian church. In this book, Kim Bowes relates -another history, that of the Christian private. Using textual and archaeological evidence, she examines the Christian rituals of home and rural estate, which took place outside the supervision of bishops and their agents. These domestic rituals and the spaces in which they were performed were rooted in age-old religious habits. They formed a major, heretofore unrecognized force in late ancient Christian practice. The religion of home and family, however, was not easily reconciled with that of the bishop's church. Domestic Christian practices presented challenges to episcopal authority and posed thorny questions about the relationship between individuals and the Christian collective. As Bowes suggests, the story of private Christianity reveals a watershed in changing conceptions of "public" and "private," one whose repercussions echo through contemporary political and religious debate. Kim Bowes is assistant professor of classics at Cornell University. She has published on subjects ranging from Christian archaeology and domestic architecture to settlement dynamics and the late Roman economy, and she has excavated Roman and late Roman sites around the Mediterranean.
Private Worship, Public values, and Religious Change in Late Antiquity
KIM BOWES Cornell University
"",~"", CAMBRIDGE :::
UNIVERSITY PRESS
CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS
Cambridge, New York, Melbourne, Madrid, Cape Town, Singapore, Sao Paulo, Delhi Cambridge University Press 32 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10013-2473, USA www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9780521885935
© Kim Bowes 2008 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 2008 Printed in the United States of America
A catalog record for this publication is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
1.
Bowes, Kimberly Diane, 1970Private worship, public values, and religious change in late antiquity I Kim Bowes. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-521-88593-5 (hardback) Worship - History - Early church, ca. 30-600. 2. Church history - Primitive and early church, ca. 30-600. 1. Title. Bv6.B69 2008 270.2-dc22 2007049089 ISBN 978-0-521-88593-5 hardback Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLS for external or third-party Internet Web sites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Web sites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
Contents
List
of fllustrations
Acknowledgments Abbreviations
~
~
Introduction Histories
~
ix xiii
xv
~ 1
of Late Antiquity Christianity and the Challenge of Private Worship Histories of Private Worship ~ 8
~
4
Defining the Private ~ 12 Book Structure ~ 15 CHAPTER I.
An Empire of Family and Friends: Public and Private
in Roman Religions
~
Public and Private in Roman Religion
18 ~ 20
Public and Private as Legal Categories ~ 20 The Public Priesthoods: Family and Patronage ~ 21 Consecratio/Dedicatio: Marking Public and Private Religious Space ~ 24 Household Cults and Their Public Roles ~ 27 Public and Private in the ((Unofficial Cults" ~ 37 Superstitio and Magia: Tensions between Public and Private ~ 44 Communal and Private in Second- and Third-Century Christianity ~ 48 From Home to House Church: The Christian Collective in Flux ~ 49 Christian Private Ritual ~ 52 Private and Collective Ritual in Christian Thought ~ 56
Conclusions: Public and Private in Roman Polytheist and Christian Thought ~ 58
v
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 2.
Two Christian Capitals: Private Worship in Rome and Constantinople ~ 61 Rome
~ 63
Pre-Constantinian Realities ~ 63 The Roman tituli ~ 65 Going to Church in Fourth- and Early Fifth-Century Rome: The Continuation of House-Churches ~ 71 The Home as Church: Domestic Piety and the Conversion of Rome's Elite ~ 75 Contesting the Private in Rome ~ 99 Constantinople ~ 103 Fourth-Century Realities ~ 103 Constantinople's Christian Topography: A City of Private Churches ~ 106 Bishops and Private Churches ~ 116 Monks and the Private ~ 120
Conclusions CHAPTER
~ 123
3. "Christianizing" the Countryside: Rural Estates and Private Cult ~ 125
The Fourth-Century Countryside ~ 127 The Forms if Estate Worship: Villa Churches, Mausolea, and ((Monasteries)) ~ 129 Intra- Villa Churches ~ 130 Mausolea, with a Twist ~ 135 Extra- Villa Churches ~ 146 Estate Asceticism ~ 152 Estate-Based Clergy ~ 157
Social Qualities if Estate-Based Christianity ~ 158 Bishops and Rural Elites: Estate Christianity in Local Context ~
161
Working with Bishops: North Africa ~ 162 What Bishop? Northern Italy, Britain, and the Absence of the Church Hierarchies ~ 170 Bishops versus Elites: Hispania and Southwestern Gaul ~ 179 Conclusions ~ 187
4. Ideologies of the Private: Private Cult and the Construction of Heresy and Sanctity ~ 189
CHAPTER
Contesting Private Worship: Heresy and the Home
~ 191
Roman Law and Christian Law: Ideologies of Private Cult Homes on the Defensive ~ 200
Promoting Private Worship: Constructing Ideals
if Female Sanctity
The Private in the Vita Macrina The Private and Female Heresy
~ 208
~ 212
Conclusions: Debating the Private
VI
~
~
214
196 ~ 202
CONTENTS
Conclusions,""",
217
Private Worship and the "Christianization" of the Aristocracy'""'" Private Worship and Sacred Space '""'" 220 Private Worship and Christian Memory '""'" 222 Towards the Middle Ages and Beyond '""'" 222 Notes'""'"
227
Bibliography '""'" 293 Index,""", 343
vu
218
List of Illustrations
I.
2.
3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.
I I.
12.
13.
14.
Shrine with figurines (possibly busts of ancestors and/or deities) in the garden of the Casa del Menandro, Pompeii, page 29 first century A.D. Kitchen shrine, house I 13,2, Pompeii, with detail of the familia at sacrifice, first century A.D. 3I Plan and reconstruction, Newel villa and temple, second-third centuries A.D. 34 Milreu villa temple with podium mosaics, late fourth century A.D. 35 Reconstruction, Ad duas {auros villa and temple, Rome, fourth century A.D. 37 Plan, Sidaba villa and mausoleum, fourth century A.D. 39 Plan and view, mithraeum beneath S. Clemente, Rome, second-third centuries A.D. 40 Inscription commemorating the thiasos of Agripinilla, second century A.D. 41 Reconstruction, Dura Europos house-church, third century A.D. 51 Map, fourth- and fifth-century tituli of Rome (including roads and major monuments). 67 Map, fourth- and early fifth-century basilica construction in Rome (including roads and major monuments). 73 Ivory pyxis, depicting the Multiplication of the Loaves and Fishes, fifth-sixth century A.D. 77 Plan, house of the Valerii, Rome, fourth-fifth century A.D. 79 Bronze lamp from the house of the Valerii, fourth century A.D. 81
1X
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20.
21.
22.
23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29.
30.
3 I. ]2. 33. 34. 35· 36. 37. 38. 39. 40.
Plan, horti Domitiae Lucillae, second-sixth centuries A.D. Plan, Christian rooms in the horti ofDomitia Lucilla, fourth century A.D. Painting, Christian rooms in the horti of Domitia Lucilla, fourth century A.D. Plan, Sessorian palace, fourth century A.D. Reconstructed plan, Santa Croce in Gerusalemme in the Sessorian Palace, fourth century A.D. Plan, houses beneath Ss. Giovanni e Paolo, second-fifth centuries A.D. Section, shrine area beneath Ss. Giovanni e Paolo, second-fifth centuries A.D. Shrine, houses beneath Ss. Giovanni e Paolo, fourth century A.D. "Garden" area with fountain, Venus fresco and shrine (?), houses beneath Ss. Giovanni e Paolo, third century A.D. Plan, Santo Stefano in Via Latina, villa and church, first-fifth centuries A.D. Plan, Santo Stefano in Via Latina church, fifth century A.D. Map, fourth- and early fifth-century "public" basilica construction in Constantinople. Map, fourth- and fifth-century "private" basilica construction in Constantinople. Plan, Lullingstone villa, fourth-century A.D. phase. Reconstruction, Lullingstone villa church, fourth century A.D. N.B.: The hypothetical position of some of the wall paintings has been altered since this reconstruction was made (see Liversidge and Weatherhead 1987, 12). Painted decoration, west wall, Lullingstone villa church, fourth century A.D. Plan, Villa Fortunatus, fourth-fifth centuries A.D. Phased plan, Villa Fortunatus villa church, fourth-fifth centuries A.D. Mosaic, Villa Fortunatus, fourth-fifth centuries A.D. View, Sizzano villa and plan of church, fifth century A.D. Area map, Pueblanueva villa and mausoleum. Reconstruction, Pueblanueva mausoleum, fourth century A.D. Plan, La Cocosa villa and mausoleum, second-sixth centuries A.D. Plan, La Cocosa mausoleum, fourth-sixth centuries A.D. Plan, Muline villa, mausolea and church, second-fifth centuries A.D. Plan, Vandoeuvres villa and mausoleum/church, fourth-fifth centuries A.D.
x
82 83 85 86 87 88 89 90 91
94 95 108 109
131
1]2 1]2 133
134 135 136 137 138 139 139 140
141
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
41.
42.
43· 44· 45·
46. 47· 48. 49· 50. 51. 52. 53· 54·
Reconstructions, La Alberca mausoleum, fourth century A.D. (top) and Marusinac, St. Anastasius martyrium, fourth century A.D. (bottom) Arial reconstruction, Carranque villa and domed structure, fourth-fifth centuries A.D. I = villa, 2 = nympheum/temple, 3 = domed building, 4 = modern visitor's center, 5 = Guadarama River. Plan and section, Carranque domed structure, fourth-fifth centuries A.D. Plan, Palazzo Pignano villa and church, fifth century A.J? Plan, Palazzo Pignano church, fifth century A.D. N.B.: The plan does not reflect the more recent excavations, which have revealed a baptistery on the south side of the vestibule. Top: Area map, Loupian. Bottom: Plan, Loupian villa. Plan, Loupian church, fourth-fifth centuries A.D. Phased plan, Centallo villa and church, second(?)-fifth centuries A.D. Area plan, Souk el-Lhoti, and details of church and farms, fourth-seventh centuries A.D. Map, North Mrican sites discussed in the text. Map, Northern Italian sites discussed in the text. Map, British sites discussed in the text. Plan and view, Bradford-on-Avon villa and baptismal (?) complex, fourth-fifth centuries A.D. Map, Spanish, and southern Gallic sites discussed in the text.
Xl
143
144 145 147
147 148 149 151 153 163 171 175 177 179
Acknowledgments
This book began as a (very different) doctoral dissertation; its development and subsequent transformation owe much to the people who cheered it, critiqued it, and lent their invaluable ideas and information to improving it. My greatest debts are to my dissertation supervisors, Danny Curcic and Peter Brown: without their aid, criticisms, and unflagging encouragement, the project would never have begun, let alone been completed. Jas Elsner set me on this path many years ago by turning me on to late antiquity, and I am now, as then, in his debt and tutelage. The fieldwork and other extra-library research was supported by a host of generous colleagues who provided tours of their sites, unpublished materials, and challenging conversation. Particular thanks are owed to Raphael Alfenim, Javier Arce, Beat Brenk, Alessandra Cerrito, Alexandra Chavarna, Mark Corney, Dimas Fernandez Galiano, Theodor Hauschild, Martin Henig, Richard Hodges, Caroline Humfress, Michael Kulikowski, Concei<;:ao Lopes, Christophe Pellecuer, Gisela Ripoll, Simonetta Serra, Jean Terrier, and Francesc Tusset. I have been met by an equally kind group of librarians who, in institutions from Princeton to Rome, provided much-needed support. Special thanks are owed to the staff at the Deutsches Archaologisches Institut, Lisbon and Madrid; the Universite Bordeaux; the American Academy in Rome; the Ecole Fran<;:aise de Rome; the Augustinianum; Yale University; Fordham University; and, most especially, Princeton University. The final product was greatly aided by Paul Guzek, who produced the maps and improved many of the drawings, and Mike Esposito, Mike Fontaine, and Yannis Ziogas, who checked the references with admirable care and insight.
XlII
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The kindest and rarest of friends are surely one's critics; the book has benefited enormously from colleagues who have taken the time to read chapters in detail, adding bibliography, corrections, and robust criticism. John Bodel, Peter Brown, Kate Cooper, Milette Gaifinan, Carlos Galvao-Sobrinho, Patrick Geary, and Adam Gutteridge all read pieces of the manuscript and provided invaluable aid and advice. Kevin Uhalde and Christopher MacEvitt performed the work of true friends and read the whole thing, while Tina Sessa has been a constant interlocutor, dear friend, and source of inspiration. Jas Elsner and Phillip Rousseau saved me from many errors of fact and nuance, and the manuscript benefited greatly from their attentions. In the end, this book was really produced by the kindness of others - those who cared for me throughout its tortuous genesis. My friends Don Shillingburg and Christopher MacEvitt, my partner Richard Hodges, and, most of all, my parents and sister - the book is dedicated to them.
xiv
Ab breviations
AASS
BE Bible CAR CCL CSEL CIL
CJ CSHB
Acta Sanctorum Editio Novissima. Paris: 1863-1940 Bulletin epigraphique. Paris: 1913Revised Standard Edition Corpus agrimensorum Romanorum. Ed. C. Thulin. Leipzig: 1908 Corpus Christianorum scriptorium. Series Latina. Turnhout Corpus scriptorum ecclesiasticorum Latinorum. Vienna Corpus inscriptionum Latinarum. Berlin: 1862 Codex Justinianus. Corpus Iuris Civilis. Vo!. 2. Ed. Kruger. Berlin: 1954 Corpus scriptorum historiae Byzantinae. Ed. Niehbuhr. Bonn: 1828--97
CTh
DACL DHGE Dig. FIRA
Codex Theodosianus. Theodosiani libri XVI cum Constitutionibus Sirmondianis et Leges novellae ad Theodosianum pertinentes. Eds. Mommsen and Mayer. Berlin: 1905 Dictionnaire d' archeologie chretienne et de liturgie. Paris: 1907-53 Dictionnaire d'histoire et de geographie ecclesiastiques. Paris: 1912Digesta. Corpus iuris civilis. Ed. Mommsen. Berlin: 1954 Fontes iuris romani antejustiniani. Eds. Riccobono et al. Florence: 1940-3
FOTC GSC ICUR IDR IGUR
Fathers of the Church. New York/Washington Griechischen Christlichen Schriftsteller der ersten Jahrhunderte. Leipzig/Berlin: 1893Inscriptiones Christianae urbis Romae. Ed. Rossi. Rome: 1861-88. New series 1922Inscriptiones Daciae romanae. Ed. Russu. Bucharest: 1975Inscriptiones graecae urbis Romae. Ed. Moretti. Rome: 1968-
xv
ABBREVIATIONS
ILCV ILS ILTun Inscr. Ital. Loeb LP LTUR Mansi MGH (AA) Mishnah NJ NTh
Patria PCBE PG PL PLRE PTS SC ThesCRA
Inscriptiones latinae Christianae veteres (2nd ed.). Ed. Diehl. Berlin: 1961 Inscriptiones latinae selectae. Ed. Dessau. Berlin: 1892-1916 Inscriptions latines de la Tunisie. Ed. Merlin. Paris: 1944 Inscriptiones Italiae. Rome: 1931Loeb Classical Library. Cambridge, MA Liber pontificalis. Ed. Duchesne. Paris: 1884-1957 Lexicon Topographicum Urbis Romae. Ed. Steinby. Rome: 1993Sacrorum conciliorum nova et amplissima collectio. Ed. Mansi. Florence: 1759-1927 Monumenta Germaniae historica. Auctores antiquissimi. Berlin: 18 77-19 19 Mishnah. Trans. Danby. Oxford: 1950 Novellae Justiniani. Corpus Iuris Civilis. Vol. 3. Eds. Schoell and Kroll. Berlin: 1954 Novellae Theodosii. Theodosiani libri XVI cum Constitutionibus Sirmondianis et Leges novellae ad Theodosianum pertinentes. Eds. Mommsen and Mayer. Berlin: 1905 Patria Konstantinoupoleos. Scriptores originum Constantinopolitanarum. Ed. Praeger. Leipzig: 1907 Prosopographie chretienne du Bas-Empire. Paris: 1982 Patrologiae cursus completus. Series Greca. Ed. Migne. Paris: 185794 Patrologiae cursus completus. Series Latina. Ed. Migne. Paris: 184455 Prosopography cif the Later Roman Empire. Eds. Jones, Martindale, and Morris. Cambridge: 1971-92 Patristische Texte und Studien. Berlin/New York: 1964Sources chretiennes. Paris: 1942Thesaurus cultus et rituum antiquorum. Los Angeles: 2004-
XVl
Introduction
n Constantinople sometime in the 440s, the empress Pulcheria stood at the edge of an excavation trench. She was there under orders from none other than Saint Thyrsus, who had appeared to her in a dream and instructed her to find the relics of forty Christian soldiers who had perished on the ice of an Armenian lake. I Aided by clergy and palace officials she began a massive excavation, complete with its own public relations director, local church historian Sozomen, who recorded the event for posterity. The excavation eventually uncovered a casket which, when opened, emitted the sweet odor of myrrh: the martyrs had been found. The day was proclaimed a public festival, the martyrs' relics were processed through the city streets, and, with the empress and bishop standing by, the Forty were laid to rest alongside the relics ofThyrsus himself. Thus were the Forty Martyrs of Sebaste enrolled among the capital's saintly citizens. 2 Christian ruler, aided by church officials, hunts for saints' relics amid public fanfare: as abridged in many ancient and modern histories, Sozomen's tale is reduced to a familiar headline, one which seems to embody the age itself. 3 Indeed, the history of Christianity after the Peace of the Church often reads like a broadsheet report of that day in Constantinople: it is a history peopled by bishops and clergy, ruled by newly Christian emperors and empresses, and set against the backdrop of a new Christian polis with its churches and public liturgies. It is a history preoccupied with the development of Christian institutions, with the shifting forms of civic authority and with the new material language of Christian power. In other words, the history oflate antique Christianity has traditionally been the history of a new and energetic public. What is missing from these histories is what Sozomen actually witnessed that day and grudgingly, even disparagingly, recorded in his chronicle. For it
]
I
INTRODUCTION
was not an empress or a bishop who originally introduced the Forty Martyrs to Constantinople. Rather it was an aristocrat named Eusebia, whose obvious wealth and piety Sozomen obscures with insinuations of doctrinal deviancy. Eusebia did not place her treasure in one of the city's public churches, but in a private chapel on her suburban estate. Both she and her best friend, the wife of the consul Caesarius, were eventually buried beside the saintly remains, while a cadre of monks, specially ensconced on the estate for this purpose, prayed over their souls. Even Saint Thyrsus, he who had appeared to the empress Pulcheria, came to the city in another private venture, this one instigated by the selfsame Caesarius who likewise constructed an estate-martyr shrine. 4 In other words, what has been written out of the history of late antique Christianity is precisely what so troubled Sozomen: a vast and powerful world of private religiosity. This book seeks to reexcavate this private. It investigates the phenomena of private churches and private worship from the fourth through the first half of the fifth centuries A.D. From the powerful private churches and monasteries of Constantinople to the great estate churches of the rural western empire, from the reserved eucharist consumed in the home to healing rituals involving personal relics, the following chapters describe the physical shape and ritual content of those practices that took place outside the bounds of the nascent public church. Using both texts and material evidence to construct its narrative, the book describes the extraordinary range of private ritual activities undertaken by late antique people. Far from being an adjunct to episcopally supervised cult, private worship constituted a major force in late antique Christendom, dominating the ritual lives of the great imperial capitals and nurturing the first rural Christian communities. Outside the sparkling new basilicas and splendid public liturgies lay a thriving, heretofore unexplored world of private Christian practice. Yet, like Sozomen's narrative, it was a world shot through with potential discord. The family and the household, this book will argue, lay uneasily alongside the nascent church, as ancient habits of doing religion organized around family and patronage failed, at least in theory, to mesh with episcopal authority and clerical hierarchies. Occasionally, this largely notional dissonance would explode into real-world clashes; private churches and private rituals attracted accusations of heretical practice, accusations that resounded with increasing hysteria in imperial law courts and church councils. At the same time, in growing numbers of ascetic handbooks and saintly biographies, the impresarios of private churches were lauded as examples of exemplary piety. Private cult was not simply a potent presence in late antique Christendom, but a matter of strenuous debate. For within Sozomen's disapproving subtext lie the seeds of a problem that has never left us. What are "the public" and "the private," particularly as they pertain to religion? Do they even exist? If so, how are they related? Who
2
INTRODUCTION
determines their boundaries - scholars, theologians, politicians, or common consensus? From Cicero to the framers of the American constitution, politicians have proposed legal boundaries to separate public from private religious activities; and from Sozomen to the prelates at Vatican II, scholars of religion have ranked them, disparaging one at the expense of the other. 5 Debate over public and private religion has for centuries, in large and small ways, saturated social discourse. While the public/private debate may be both ubiquitous and unending, the arguments themselves have a history, one whose ebbs and flows reflected and stimulated broader social changes. Sozomen's dismissal of Eusebia's private relic cult, this book will suggest, reflects more than the rank prejudice of an imperial flunky; it is a buried echo of a public/private revolution. This revolution, which altered not only the terms of the public/private argument but also its intensity, was ushered in by the advent of a new public entity: the public Christian church. From sexuality and gender to inheritance and marriage, the slow development of public Christian institutions threw into question the relationship between individuals and a new Christian collective. The development of a newly public religious institution carried with it new ideas of public justice, increasingly centralized control over ritual and doctrine, and new expectations of personal virtue as a criterion for public office. 6 At the same time, the rise of asceticism found some individuals isolating themselves from the Christian collective, creating elitist hierarchies centered on virginity and renunciation of worldly matters. 7 Wives and husbands wrestled with a hodge-podge of new expectations of the marriage bed, while children were accorded an increasingly central place in religious thought and private law. 8 Perhaps in no place, however, was this debate more furious or the boundary between public and private more hotly contested than around the issue of private ritual and private churches. Family, friends, and dependents had formed the core of Roman religious life and continued to do so in the first centuries after the Peace of the Church. Yet in domestic churches like Eusebia's, at private masses, even in private prayer, families and individuals collided with the new religious public and its impresarios, Christian bishops. How were such private spaces and acts to be defined? Who should own and control them, heads of family or the episcopate? Private devotion raised thorny questions about the respective places for individual piety and collective identity in a Christian world, questions in which the very shape of a Christian society was at stake. What would form the nexus of Christian communities - the ancient prerogatives of aristocratic families or the newer claims of Christian bishops? What was the proper relationship between families and/or individuals and the religious community? As the problem grew weightier, public/private distinctions became increasingly important. No longer were "public" and "private" simply categories of religious life; now they were moral yardsticks, measures of heresy and sanctity, virtue and vice. In other words, through
3
INTRODUCTION
responses to projects like Eusebia's, we catch a glimpse of a watershed in the public/private dialectic, a moment in which public and private became ever more important categories of moral scrutiny and the individual's relationship with the religious collective was fundamentally altered.
HISTORIES OF LATE ANTIQUITY CHRISTIANITY AND THE CHALLENGE OF PRIVATE WORSHIP
If the history of Christianity from the fourth through the mid fifth century is typically told through the lens of its nascent public persona, the central character of these histories is most often the bishop. The lives of the episcopate's most famous exempla, such as Augustine of Hippo, Ambrose of Milan, or Basil of Caesarea, and their impact on doctrine, social issues, and community formation, form the punctuation marks of a complex institutional history. 9 Bishops were, in one sense, the new dramatis personae on a new public stage. Under bishops' aegis, cities acquired a mantle of churches and martyr shrines. 10 Bishops managed great public assistance programs to benefit the poor, old, and infirm. I I They orchestrated new public spectacles and processions centered on the cult of martyrs whose venerated bodies lay outside the city walls. 12 Eventually, bishops would even claim the mantle of magistrate, handing down judgments from newly minted episcopal courts. 13 Until recently, scholars have tended to take the power of this new public collective for granted, assuming that bishops and the institutional church were every bit as successful in creating a new "Christian society" as they themselves advertised. A more recent body of scholarship, however, has suggested that these moments of episcopal power were rather fewer and farther between than previously thought. I4 The average late antique bishop was a rather anemic creature with an uncertain job description and more authority than actual power. Even the likes of an Augustine or an Ambrose was confronted with limited financial resources, uncooperative elites and imperial bureaucrats, and a systemic inability to translate theological dictates into real-world practice. Other figures, particularly holy men and women and powerful laypersons, often rivaled or trumped bishops' still-nascent authority. IS And while in some instances, holy man, aristocrat, and bishop merged into a single person, in the first century of public Christendom those well-publicized cases were probably more exceptional than typical. 16 This history of Christianity's public face is well-known; more nebulous, but of increasing interest to scholars of all disciplines, are the histories beneath this developing public fa<;:ade, specifically, the fabric of everyday lives and the changing character of the family. It is now apparent, for instance, that the physical and social makeup of the house underwent something of a metamorphosis in late antiquity. At the same time that a decline in mandatory public
4
HISTORIES OF LATE ANTIQUITY CHRISTIANITY
euergetism caused the gentle decay of public building, the space of both the urban and rural private was slowly expanding. Earlier fora were subdivided into shops, and theaters and public basilicas. were transformed into multifamily housing. I7 At the same time, the great urban domus were growing, taking up ever greater portions of their cityscapes. I8 Their vast dining rooms, reception halls, and peristyles were cities-in-miniature, and like the forum, they were stuffed with honorary inscriptions and played host to political meetings and church councils. I9 And yet, these "public" spaces were often kept at the house's fringes, while other spaces, bedrooms, and more intimate dining and meeting rooms, were nestled in a protective cocoon of separating halls and courtyards. 20 Likewise, in the countryside, huge sums were poured into the creation of great country houses; dining rooms, reception halls, and baths, all encrusted with mosaic floors, spelled out a new language of seigniorial status. 21 Great monuments of personal and familial power, these villas served as anchoring points for a vast rural familia of tenants, slaves, and workers; at the same time, they provided an ever more intimate refuge for aristocratic otium. The late antique house was, perhaps even more than its high empire predecessor, an intensely public AND very private space, its two faces ever more emphatically defined. Aristocratic families themselves were transforming, expanding their boundaries in certain senses while narrowing them in others. The expansion of the senatorial order throughout the fourth century meant that there were simply more elite families who claimed clarissimus status. 22 As the order expanded so, too, did the diversity of the class, now embracing a huge range of wealth and backgrounds, from the landed aristocracy of old to military brats and merchants' sons. 23 The increasing numbers of novi homines among elite ranks meant that the familia in its narrow definition of only agnatic kin seems to have been less and less useful as a status determinant, since fewer families had long and prestigious blood lines to brag about. 24 Instead, a broader familial unit of agnate and uterine kin, dependents, and even friends, all grouped under the heading "domus," became a more rhetorically useful social category.25 Inheritance strategy similarly embraced a broader notion of family: although tradition and a certain body of law insisted that property was to be passed down through agnatic lines, in practice families were far more flexible in their testamentary strategies. Wealthy families targeted their wills at the desired descendents without much thought for tradition or long-term financial planning, while the law loosened to permit inheritance by groups outside the agnatic line, particularly between mothers and children. 26 Yet in other ways, the nuclear family probably continued to form the nexus of everyday life, and in some matters, such as in death and in marriage, it may have grown ever more central. Late antique gravestones in the West increasingly mention only parents and/or siblings as dedicatees, suggesting that the care of the dead became a tighter family affair.27 In the East it has been claimed that close-kin
5
INTRODUCTION
marriages and elaborate betrothal ceremonies were likewise the result of closer nuclear bonds. 28 However, these studies have come under recent fire not least because they assume a socially homogenous third through seventh centuries, and it may be that the "collapse inward toward the nuclear family," took place well after our period of interest. 29 The ideology of the family was likewise in flux. 30 On the one hand, some Christian thinkers had long propounded a seemingly "anti-family" ideology, most starkly expressed in Luke I4:26: "Whoever comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple."3 1 The Pauline and post-Pauline epistles employed a more positive rhetoric, insisting on filial obedience, the value of the marriage bond, and care of one's relatives, while claiming the church as an alternative to blood-kinship: all Christians were adelphoi, sisters and brothers, and the church itself was a "household of the faith."32 The rise of the ascetic movement, particularly in its cenobitic forms, actually offered a new kind of physical domus - the monastery - free of the blood family, while to some contemporaries, the loud praises of virginity seemed to threaten marriage and family life altogether. 33 Family members gradually ceased to appear on funerary epitaphs, while the great familial funerary monuments of the high empire gave way to more anonymous collective graveyards in churches. 34 And yet, rumors of the family's death, even as an ideological category, have been greatly exaggerated. Ascetic proponents like Augustine and Ambrose offered alternative readings of New Testament "anti-family" dictates, insisting on the value of the marriage bond and seeking ways to integrate familial and ascetic lives. 35 Legal changes that threatened family bonds or reconfigured them in a Christian guise, like Constantine's repeal of Augustan laws punishing celibates, were seemingly not motivated by Christian thinking at all but rather by a long-standing moral status quo gradually given legal expression. 36 Even the commemoration of the dead continued to be a family affair, as families continued to be the impresarios of funeral feasts while great familial mausolea, now attached to churches, continued to convert those familial bonds into permanent memories. 37 While there is no doubt that the family as social group and ideological entity was shifting, families remained a potent social and rhetorical force throughout Christendom's first four centuries. The relationship between aristocratic families and the new Christian public was thus a complex one, filled with opportunities for both tension and overlap. For instance, the power that aristocrats commanded over their dependents could be enormous, as being a patron also meant being a dominus, or lord. 38 At the same time, the new Christian hierarchy claimed spiritual lordship over these domini and their dependents in an at-times awkward inversion of traditional status roles. 39 Even more dramatically, the poor had emerged out of the corners of social oblivion to claim a place in a new spiritual economy; from previously invisible social refuse, they became a vessel into which the aristocracy might
6
HISTORIES OF LATE ANTIQUITY CHRISTIANITY
pour their excess, sin-producing wealth, or an image of apostolic poverty to be emulated. by a new ascetic elite. 40 Of course, aristocrats might become bishops, thereby neatly folding civic into spiritual authority and acting as iiber-euergete to the teaming massesY Yet aristocrats seem to have taken this step only infrequently, and broadly speaking, beginning only in the later fifth century. With the exception of certain regions like southern Gaul, bishops tended to be recruited from more middling classes and local senatorial elites continued to outstrip them in power and wealth. 42 Similarly, the cacophonous din of traditional aristocratic status proclamation now jostled with a new self-effacing Christian aesthetic. Great circus and gladiatorial games continued to be given, largess was publicly' distributed and silk-clad clarissimae paraded the streets accompanied by their entourages. 43 Equally extravagant displays of status were also conveyed through Christian asceticism; sackcloth and a pale face took the place of silks and jewels for some aristocrats as "holy arrogance" became a new language of spiritual elitism. 44 Between the traditional and the radical lay the large and small gestures of Christian public giving, from the construction of public basilicas by pious elites to the penning of Christian poetry for consumption in elite salons. 45 Private worship, private churches, and the piety of the individual stood in the tectonic boundary where these worlds met, between the new Christian public and traditional family life, and between old modes of status distinction and new kinds of collective euergetism. As an aspect of "private life" which influenced the nascent public church, private worship pulled together the needs of personal religiosity, the social structure offamily, and the dictates of Christian liturgy, and gathered them in the space of the home or estate. That gathering, however, was not without risk. As we shall see, for the pagan aristocrat of the high empire the estate temple was simply the cultic manifestation of seigniorial power, and its worshipping community of both family and dependents echoed the social hierarchy of the domus. To construct a Christian estate church, on the other hand, and to select its clergy from among the estate's peasants, was not to bridge the two worlds of the public Church and the private Christian, but to probe the tension-filled space between these worlds. Which of the available social hierarchies would govern that church? How would ties of blood and dependency interact with ties of clerical duty? Into which mighty economic engine, the rural estate or the church coffer, would such a church feed the donations of the faithful? The history of private worship thus forms part of the late antique struggle to determine what it meant to be Christian and what it meant to be a member of a familia. Private worship also calls into question many of the scholarly assumptions about these public and private histories. The briefest trawl through the evidence for private worship forces a radical reconsideration of scholarly categories for Christian identity - clerical, lay, and monastic - by focusing on a practice shared by all types of Christians. It likewise challenges the bishop's
7
INTRODUCTION
pride of place as creator and leader of Christian communities, emphasizing instead the lay aristocrats who not only converted family, friends, and dependents, but constructed the edifice for an entire Christian life within homes, themselves entities of complex familial, economic, and religious composition. Most importantly, the history of private worship further challenges the presumed symbiotic relationship between aristocracy and clergy, exposing the chasms of social and economic difference that separated them. These chasms were deep enough not only to set layman against clergy, but also to set an individual against himself, as clergymen struggled to reconcile the dictates of their office with the simultaneous and age-old demands of friendship, kinship, and the other baggage of being a "private" person. Thus, this relatively narrow history of private worship might thus be used to probe the broader historical edifice oflate Roman social history, exposing and challenging some of its basic tenets.
HISTORIES OF PRIVATE WORSHIP
Galvanized by Annales school historians such as Philippe Aries and George Duby, the historical study of "private life" has flourished, in perhaps no period more than late antiquity, where the discipline's muse, Peter Brown, has inspired a thriving "private life" industry embracing subjects as diverse as the family, sexuality, housing, dreams, and travel. In other periods, private devotion and personal piety are regularly classed among such "private life" social history.46 However, there exists no comprehensive examination of private worship in late antiquity and only a handful of allied studies, most of either dubious methodological foundation or with a primary focus on later periods. A series of early articles, spurred by the work of Ulrich Stutz, described the private churches of the early Middle Ages as products of a particularly Germanic religious mentalite. 47 These "nation-origin" theories were quickly dismissed and replaced by more sober studies, principally on the later manifestations of the problem in the Byzantine east and medieval west. 48 While excellent in their own right, these studies have as their aim the explication of the phenomenon in the high Middle Ages or the middle Byzantine period, times when private cult and private churches enjoyed better documentation than during late antiquity. Thus the late antique material is treated summarily, a phase of "becoming" on the way to the real object of inquiry. The last two decades have produced a series of more late antique-specific studies; these tend to be regionally based catalogues, typically focused on either the textual or archaeological evidence, and thus side-step the broader historical questions raised by the phenomenon. 49 In no case has the phenomenon of Christian private worship been laid against pagan precedents, or integrated into broader
8
HISTORIES OF PRIVATE WORSHIP
socio-religious history. The present study thus represents the first history of the practice in its many facets. Why private worship in late antiquity should have excited so little interest, given its centrality to developments like the evolution of monasticism and the creation of a Christian aristocracy, is in itself illuminating. The most obvious reason is that private devotion is hard to see. Our knowledge of ancient private life is paltry compared to that of political structures, rhetoric, and public cult. This disparity reflects the simple fact that the ancients poured their writing and building talents into the creation and maintenance of status, and status was principally defined through the public sphere. In late antiquity, the textual and archaeological corpus is dominated by the writings of churchmen anxiously trying to create a new public institution and by the splendid remains of new Christian basilicas. Excavating the private from amongst the overwhelming detritus of the public requires no small amount of effort and the results are often meager - a brief mention of a domestic ritual, the foundation walls of a private church. And yet, the lacunose study of private worship cannot all be laid at the door of evidentiary troubles. Private worship challenges many basic assumptions about the history of Christianity and like an embarrassing relative, it has proven easier to ignore than to invite to the table. One such assumption is born of the strongly periodized perception of ancient Christianity. 50 The miraculous conversion of Constantine in 3 12 seems to provide a precipitous, episodic boundary separating the illegal "cult" of the first three centuries A.D., when it is frequently grouped with other so-called mystery cults, with the religion of empire of the fourth centuryY This pre/post Nicene periodization rests heavily on antonymic notions of private versus public. Lacking legal status and set in private homes, pre-Nicene Christian practice is persistently located in an ill-defined "private," along with the so-called pagan mystery religions. The "triumph" of the Church, ushered in by Constantine's conversion, is marked by a departure from the private house, a victorious procession to newly minted basilicas, and the rightful assumption of Christian worship and Christian ritual in the public sphereY In large part, this public/private divide is rooted in a Protestant teleology that read the history of Christianity as the tragic, headlong rush away from an ur-Christian "private." While its assumptions have been largely demolished over the last thirty years, a public/private binary still runs through most modern histories. 53 This tacit approval of a public/private divorce, brokered by Constantine and witnessed by the replacement of the private house church with the public basilica, has not only diminished the profile of private worship after the Peace of the Church, but forced most considerations of these practices into the teleologically marginalized position of "vestiges," or "residues" of a fast-disappearing pre-Nicene past. 54 Even the study oflate paganism has been tarred by the same brush; as Christianity "triumphed" in the public sphere, paganism is said to have retreated to the private
9
INTRODUCTION
where its manifestations, like those of pre-Nicene Christianity before it, are understood as a last-ditch "resistance."55 Within this historiographic context, post-Nicene private worship of any flavor is hard to examine on its own terms and within its appropriate historical framework. Just as problematic is the historiographic paradigm that has done the most to foster the study of private worship - the concept of "Christianization. "56 "Christianization," broadly defined as the conversion of various groups, the development of new Christian institutions, or the creation of new Christian material culture, continues to form one of scholarship's most important lenses on late antique history. 57 Christianization is typically, although almost always tacitly, understood as the process by which something - be it people, actions, or things - "became" Christian. Christianization narratives generally tend to formulate these social changes as a swap sale; they describe how the senator exchanged his consular toga for bishop's miter; how the civic bureaucracy was charged with building churches and hostels instead of amphitheaters and baths; and in this particular case, how Roman homes and families were enfolded into the "family of Christ." This unalloyed confidence that one practice, thing, or social role was exchanged for another assumes a tacit teleology. The Christian end of the equation is already known and tends to be the object of inquiry, that is, the Christian basilica, the episcopate, or the Christian family. The j ob of the historian is to discover what practice or thing preceded it, that is, the dining room, the civic aristocracy, or the pagan domestic shrine, and to elaborate the functional similarities that bound antecedent and successor. At their worst, then, Christianization histories are framed less around a historiographic model than a pre-packaged plot-line, grinding inexorably towards the same, inevitable finale, namely an a priori conception of Christian society, or in this particular case, the Christian house and family. Christianization models also tend to assume that consensus-building is the principal, if not only means by which social change happens. In other words, the swaps from aristocrat to bishop, from familia nobilis to familia Christi are assumed to have been successful; by filling the same functional! societal need, they usher in gradual social change, but through processes of integration and consensus that render change relatively seamless and untroubled. These swaps also succeed because "religion" and "society" are assumed to be umbilically tied, the two changing in 10ck-step.5 8 Thus, religious change, that is, a person or family's conversion to Christianity, is presumably accompanied by concomitant social change, that is, an alteration in the social structure of the family or estate to incorporate episcopal authority. The problem in these histories lies not so much in the stories they tell as in what falls outside their tacitly unidirectional trajectories, namely nonconformity with the developing consensual Christian community, or community non-success. 59 Typically, "dissenting" elements in these stories were placed
IQ
HISTORIES OF PRIVATE WORSHIP
under the headings of paganism and heresy, their marginalization reinforcing the primacy of consensus as social-historical paradigm. 60 Indeed, "Christianization" is frequently framed as the effort to either eradicate or enfold these "others." As this book will suggest, the practice of private worship, the construction of private churches, and the maintenance of family or patronage'-based church communities are phenomena which fit poorly into Christianization models of late antique religious history. These practices constituted a challenge to the developing idea of a Christian community defined by a shared location, a bishop-leader, and an accompanying clerical hierarchy. That is, these persons, in the moments they engaged in private worship, formed a subcommunity of Christians defined not by their membership in a community of faithful led by a bishop, but by their membership in a Christian family or patronage group. And yet, those who engaged in private worship were not necessarily pagans, heretics, or rebellious malcontents, but very much part of the Christian community.61 For much of the time, these differences were passed over without comment or problem, while in other moments those who engaged in private worship found themselves set uncomfortably apart from the broader community. "Christianization," imagined as the formation of "a" community, through a uni-directional convertive process, typically does not acknowledge this kind of practice nor integrate it into histories oflate antique religiosity. Scholarship of the last decade has subjected "Christianization" and its teleological assumptions to an increasingly critical gaze. Rather than the great impresarios of the Christianization process, bishops are emerging as weaker figures, frequently failing to enforce changes in their communities and resorting to their "private" non-episcopal status to accomplish their goals. 62 The history of doctrine is no longer narrated by the triumph of orthodoxy, but rather as the construction of the concept of orthodoxy, hammered out by competing churchmen who used labels of heresy and orthodox to bolster their own status claims. 63 Ascetic practices are revealed as having been extraordinarily diverse, propounding competing ideals of spiritual excellence. 64 And families are in the center of the mix, serving as models for ascetic communities, continuing their own burial and commemorative traditions, and opposing, as well as colluding, with episcopal power.6 5 To paraphrase Greg Woolf's manifesto on the problem ofRomanization, becoming Christian, it is now clear, was not a matter of acquiring a ready-made cultural package so much as joining the debate about what that package ought to comprise. 66 This book thus joins a growing number of studies that describe a highly heterogeneous early Christendom, whose historical development was driven in large part by its own internal fractures, and whose ties to pre-Christian and pre-Nicene worlds were different and far stronger than had previously been supposed.
11
INTRODUCTION
DEFINING THE PRIVATE
The term "private" used to pass in scholarly discussion with nary a raised eyebrow; scholars routinely labeled things - be they buildings, objects, genders, or jobs - public or private, and they framed these concepts in binary opposition. But decades of study on everything from the Roman house, Roman women, even Roman sex and defecation have shattered an easy bifurcation of public and private. 67 The private in general, and particularly in the ancient world, is a notoriously tangled concept, so much so that at least one scholar has doubted that it can be made to do any substantive work at all. 68 Studies on seemingly the most private of ancient places, the Roman home, illustrate the problem. The most public of the home's spaces, the atrium, experienced radical shifts in privacy from morning, when the space would be crowded with clients and the owner's admiring public, to afternoon, where the same space might be occupied by the close, gendered community of the home's women, engaged in weaving. 69 Similarly, what would seem the most private of spaces, the cubiculum or bedroom, might be used to hold dinner parties or political debates, whose social meaning differed radically from the same events held in different areas of the house, like the dining or reception rooms.7 0 The ancient "private" thus appears so much more "public" than its modern equivalent and so contextdependent that scholars now typically frame the term in quotes, signaling that, if not for expediency, they would prefer to avoid the word altogether. To dismiss the ancient private, however, would be a mistake. While the inherent slipperiness of the concept resists a stable, monolithic definition, it is surely wrong to conclude that the private is thus incapable of performing analytic work or that public and private were not important ancient categories. Indeed, central to the importance of the private as an historical category is its very subjectivity. The private is a resolutely relative entity, definable only through qualification and juxtaposition with its opposite, the public. That is, the private, either ancient or modern, cannot ever be defined, but only gestured at through a series of comparisons with something else. In this sense, it is a dialectical category; to describe something as "private" is to argue for its placement at one point of a slippery scale, which itself has no existence apart from that created by those same arguments. It is this dialectical property that makes "the private" an historically relevant field of inquiry. From the Augustan marriage reforms to the uncertain fate of the modern American family, it is the debate about what constitutes privacy, rather than any clear or consistent idea of what privacy is, which makes the private so interesting. 71 That is, an historical private may be defined by the dialectic around which definitions of privacy circled in any given time. Privacy defined historically and dialectically sidesteps the impossibility of an objectively defined private, focusing instead on the period-specific debates surrounding the concept itself and its attendant, ever-diverse definitions. As this dialectical
12
DEFINING THE PRIVATE
private is, by definition, a relative one, this study omits the qualifying quotes around terms like public and private, assuming their relativity as a point of departure. In fact, by focusing on the debates about privacy rather than any a priori category, we shall find a private even more public, at least from a modern perspective, than previous studies have led us to expect. Following the preoccupations of its debating protagonists, the private of this book will lead us over huge stretches of countryside, into courtrooms, even within the imperial palace and the senate. Debates about privacy embraced the whole of ancient civic lives, themselves a complex and often tension-rife melange of personal, familial, and dependency bonds. In other words, by examining the dialectical private, this book will blur anachronistic public/private distinctions even further and like the above-mentioned studies, describe an ancient private that was both immense and wholly permeable, even integrated, with the public. The greatest challenge to examining this dialectical private is locating it: just as the abortion controversy in the United States is often framed as a debate on women's rights or the boundary between church and state, so, too, ancient debates about the religious private are rarely framed as discussions of a sacra privata. Yet the public/private controversy is wound through some of the period's most momentous social changes - doctrinal and disciplinary debates, the rise of asceticism, discussions on magic and sorcery, and Christianity's fight against paganism, just to mention a few. By peering beneath and across these controversies, one catches glimpses of a strenuous public/private debate waged through other names. The present study is particularly focused on the context and development of Christian private worship. Thus, a working definition of a Christian private will be drawn from the general debates about privacy that surrounded the growth of a concomitant public, namely, the episcopally led church. For the purposes of this study, the private as a spatial entity may include any buildings, streets, and lands outside institutional church buildings and the full range of people who might inhabit these times and spaces, including both the laity and clergy, families and individuals, men and women. While this "private" will tend to emphasize places owned by, and thus the property of, the worshippers in question, ownership (rarely demonstrable in any case) is not the sole criterion. In the interests of space and comprehensibility, this study will focus on lay practices in the home. However, periodic references to other spaces and persons will provide a constant reminder of the artificiality of this boundary. If the private can be said to be nebulous, the concept of "worship" or "ritual" is only slightly less so. It could well be argued that Christianity, whose fundamental ritual is defined as a sacrifice by and for a community of the faithful, has no truly private rituals. The rite of the mass and the offering of the eucharist is, as Dom Gregory Dix once defined it, "the solemn corporate worship of God," [emphasis added] thus begging the question of how rites
13
INTRODUCTION
whose theological and ritualistic bases rest on a communal foundation might contain even a notional tie to the private. 72 This study is not concerned with ferreting out a place for the private in definitions of the mass, but with observing how communally defined actions, such as the mass, were co-opted by individuals and subsets of the Christian community for use outside the institutional church, such as the home or estate. Christianity is also rich with other kinds of ritual, such as periodic prayer, the lighting oflamps, the burning of incense, and the use of holy relics, in which a community is not presupposed and in which the individual's direct communication with the divine provides the ritual raison d' etre. For the purposes of this study, then, private worship will be defined as the practice of ritual outside the space and/or supervision of the institutional church and/or its bishops. The laywoman who, alone in the middle of the night, doused herself with the eucharistic bread and wine to heal a mysterious ailment, the monk who built a church on his estate and stocked it with a collection of Holy Land relics, even the bishop who stole his cathedral's liturgical plate for use in his own chapel, are all examples of individuals engaged in the practice of private worship. 73 Space necessarily factors into any definition of the private, and as so much of the following pages will be concerned with the space of private worship, a definition of the private church and shrine is doubly necessary. Defining any kind of private space is, as should be clear from the above discussion, an epistemological tangle, for the privacy of action might be defined by both the space and circumstances in which it takes place. Legalistic definitions based around ownership provide only the roughest outlines of what might constitute private ritual space; a church built by a private individual on private land but used by the local episcopate for public services is surely not to be understood in the same way as a privately owned church, inserted into a private home for the use of the family and dependents. 74 These examples mark the two extreme ends of a private ownership/use spectrum that embraces hundreds of situations in between. It is quickly apparent then, that there was no one kind of private church or shrine, but a whole range of buildings, foundations, and institutions that might lay claim to the descriptive "private," yet whose cumulative heterogeneity is so great as to make any study of the whole corpus cumbersome and potentially misleading. 75 The limits of space and the need to draw practical boundaries around the subject will dictate a far narrower definition of private church than might be theoretically possible. A private church will thus be considered as any space designed particularly to accommodate Christian ritual, which is built and financially supported by a private individual for the principal use of his or her family, friends, and dependents. As we shall see, both patrons and even (if somewhat grudgingly) bishops regarded such churches as being "owned" by their founders.7 6 This definition thus embraces both familial churches built
I4
BOOK STRUCTURE
into urban homes, as well as large, freestanding churches constructed on rural estates for the use of both owner and dependent estate populations. It sidesteps those churches built by private lay donors but turned immediately over to the supervision of the episcopate for public use. However, the general problem of private church ownership and maintenance will be considered, particularly as it impacted the legal and financial relationships between private individuals and the episcopate. A private individual is defined as any person, lay, clerical, monastic, or imperial, who acts on his/her own behalf, using his/her own funds rather than those of a collective institution. While seemingly straightforward, even this narrower definition is complicated in the case of churches known only from archaeological evidence. How can archaeology document ownership or administrative rights? How far can material evidence describe the social composition of worshiping communities? The short answer is that archaeology can do neither of these things very well, and thus, a degree of uncertainty must accompany almost all archaeologically identified private churches. The presence of a functioning lay residence, adjacent to or containing the church in question, while it cannot indisputably frame the private as we have defined it, does point to it with high probability. Thus, in the case of archaeological examples, this study will examine only those churches set within or adjacent to a contemporary functioning residence. 77 Given the diverse forms and locations of these private ritual spaces and the concomitant impossibility of making any quick or easy assumptions about their various functions, this study will avoid both the English "chapel," as well as the Latin oratorium, terms which appear regularly in the scholarly literature, but which in the first instance carries with it the assumption of liturgical dependence on a diocesan church, and in the second instance is so inconsistently employed by ancient authors as to merit study in its own right. 78 Instead, the term "church," will be used to describe all Christian private spaces, regardless of size or function; "shrine" will be used to describe niches and aedicular monuments, pagan and Christian; while "temple" will be used to describe freestanding pagan structures. These three terms have the advantage of providing the most basic formal distinctions, while being relatively functionneutral.
BOOK STRUCTURE
This book presents a series of case studies: it makes no claims to be comprehensive, but rather presents a series of place- and problem-specific narratives. My intention was to both make a case for private worship as an important late antique phenomenon, and to inspire further interest in its study, but as the book's many omissions (deliberate and otherwise) are testament, this is far from being the last word on the subject. These case studies are principally
IS
INTRODUCTION
restricted to considerations of elite private worship: this is largely a factor of the evidence, as both the stones of elite homes and the writings of aristocrats themselves form the bulk of the evidentiary corpus. The final constraint is temporal: the book focuses principally on the fourth through mid fifth centuries. The reasons for this restriction are two-fold. First, I wanted to juxtapose the continuity of private ritual praxis over the Nicene divide with the discontinuity of ideologies about that praxis in that tumultuous century and a half after the Peace of the Church. It is also increasingly evident that this period has its own historical qualities, which demand a separate treatment. The late fifth and sixth centuries present a significantly altered scene: in the East, the Council of Chalcedon signaled the triumph of ecclesiastical law over extra-communal entities, be they monks or family groups, while in the West, the fortunes of ancient Roman families began to fade even as the treasuries and powers of the episcopate began to rise. While private worship continued to play an important role in these years, affecting the development of the parish church and attitudes to the liturgy, it is the institutional church which is now the principal protagonist, and it is to the church - its bishops and its laws - that private worship increasingly responds, rather than the other way around. In many respects, it is a tale of the early Middle Ages and deserves its own narrative. The book begins with an extended prolegomena of "the private" in the religions of the high empire. The goal is to trace the very different ideologies that governed traditional Roman versus Christian notions of the religious private, and to illustrate the socio-religious habits that would influence late antique Christians. While Roman polytheism maintained very careful legal distinctions between public and private religion, in practice these spheres overlapped almost completely, the result of families' powerful presence in every aspect of cultic experience. Private religion was thus a vast sphere of activity, embracing everything from household cult to the so-called mystery religions. Given its ubiquity in Roman religious life, it is hardly surprising that tensions around public/private issues were generally low. Pre-Nicene Christians thought about the relationship between the public and private, or better, the collective and the personal, very differently. Already in the later second and third centuries, Christian authorities tend to privilege the former over the latter, a tendency that increased with the development of the monoepiscopate. The result was a far greater anxiety over public/private dichotomies. The remainder of the book traces the affects of these two conceptions - a Roman habit of family based religion and the Christian, particularly episcopal, discomfort with individual/familial worship - on the Christian world of the fourth and fifth centuries. Chapter 2 considers private Christian worship in two of the empire's capitals, Rome and Constantinople, where, it will be argued, private worship played a major role in Christian experience. The archaeological and textual evidence describes a thriving network of domestic and other kinds of privately
16
BOOK STRUCTURE
funded and controlled churches, structured around age-old social habits of patronage and aristocratic religious self-sufficiency. Bishops in these two cities exhibited very different responses to these communities ranging from rage to encouragement, but were in all cases forced into a delicate dance between episcopal prerogative and aristocratic privilege. Chapter 3 investigates the estate church and private piety in the countryside. In many areas of the rural West, estates were the impresarios of the earliest Christian buildings and Christian communities. Yet estate domini were hardly episcopal agents. Even more strongly than in the cities, estate churches mimicked the social structures of the estate itself, serving as monuments of seigniorial power and less frequently agents of proselytization. Tensions between these estate churches and far-off bishops could run high, as these inward-looking, self-sufficient communities simply ignored episcopal dictates. Finally, Chapter 4 returns to the issues raised in the first chapter by looking at Christian ideologies of the religious private. While familial and estate-based communities were thriving, the debate over the proper place of such communities and the private more generally was growing. The chapter examines the two most extreme manifestations of this debate - the accusations of heresy that dogged private worship, and the ideal of the saintly, housebound woman. Both had their origins in traditional Roman ideologies of the private, yet in both cases, those ideologies were intensified and made to bear new moral weight. Public/private distinctions, no longer simply legalistic divisions with little practical applicability, had become moral yardsticks, used to measure and define heresy and sanctity. The strong continuity of private religious habits, now practiced in a world struggling to articulate a new kind of public, produced a crisis in the public/private debate, changing forever the terms on which it was waged and the power it commanded.
17
CHAPTER I
An Empire of Family and Friends: Public and Private in Roman Religions
O
n February 26,295 A.D., Lucius Cornelius Scipio Orfitus made ready to sacrifice a bull and a ram. That he should do so was right and proper: Orfitus was a descendent of the illustrious Cornelii Scipiones, a senator in his own right and in that year, an augur, one of the civic priests who, by reading the auspices hidden in the flight and behavior of birds, synchronized the machinery of the state with the approval of the gods. I Through his illustrious family and his office, Orfitus thus served as one of Rome's ambassadors to the heavenly realm. Yet Orfitus' actions that day would not take place in the forum orin one ofthe city's temples, but on his private suburban estate on the Via Appia. 2 Nor would his sacrifice be directed to the Capitoline triad or any of the city's homegrown deities, but rather to the Phrygian Magna Mater and her castrated consort Attis. By Orfitus' time, the Great Mother had been worshipped in Rome for nearly five centuries, its eunuch priests and strange eastern rituals domesticated and absorbed into the ranks of official civic cults. 3 Yet by the later empire, the public cult had an equally potent private side: in smaller temples around the city, individuals sacrificed a bull and! or ram, a taurobolium or criobolium, and donated the animal's testicles and blood to the divine couple, thereby securing personal purification, longevity, and protection. 4 It was these private rituals that Orfitus undertook on that February day, commemorating his bloody gifts with three votive altars.5 On each, however, he carefully inscribed his senatorial rank and his official post as augur; Orfitus the public priest thus proudly, and loudly, proclaimed himself as the impresario of an intensely personal ritual. Some forty years earlier in the same city, a Christian leader had lectured his own community about their collective and private rites. Novatian was a charismatic presbyter and eventually elected, along with Cornelius, as one of
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AN EMPIRE OF FAMILY AND FRIENDS: PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RELIGIONS
two rival leaders of Rome's Christians. 6 According to Novatian, unlike Orfitus the augur, leading a community was not simply a matter of presiding over its rituals; leading meant unifying, weaving together a tangle of individuals and families from a whole range of backgrounds into a seamless tapestry a Christian community. 7 For N ovatian, what bound his small group of coreligionists together was what separated them from the vast pagan sea in which they swam every day - the uniqueness of their theology, their rejection of pagan sacrifice, and the binding ties of their ritual communion. 8 Being Christian, Novatian tried to persuade his listeners, meant being part of an airtight group, a collective, whose boundaries were vigilantly guarded by leaders like himself. The greatest threat to that collective, Novatian warned his followers, was not punitive imperial edicts or the sword of the executioner, but themselves. Individuals who drank and ate to excess, even families who practiced Christian rituals privately and carelessly - these people rent holes in the levees that protected the community.9 In a tale meant to horrify, Novatian related the exploits of one such man who diligently attended the group's communal meeting on Sunday, and as was the custom, collected a portion of the eucharistic bread for consumption during the week. 10 But once he left the shelter of the church, this man bent his footsteps towards the amphitheater games, taking the eucharist with him. Heaping insult to injury, his journey took him through a red-light district where, " ... that faithless man carried among the foul bodies of prostitutes the sacred body of the Lord."II Even the pious Christian, Novatian claimed, risked polluting the community by engaging in his own personal rituals. The questions raised by Orfitus' taurobolium and Novatian's diatribe are the questions which underlie the subject of this chapter, namely, how did Romans of all religious persuasions negotiate public and private, individual and collective in their religious lives? What constituted public and private in Roman civic religion and how were these categories articulated both legally and in the messy world of real religious lives? How, on the other hand, did first through third-century Christians think about individual and collective worship in their faith? In what ways did their musings differ from those of their polytheist neighbors? It will be argued that Roman civic religion's attitude to public/private religious dichotomies was very much Janus-faced. On the one hand, public and private rites were carefully and purposefully distinguished under Roman law: public civic cult was circumscribed by specific rituals and ritual personnel, leaving all religious activity outside that boundary to a huge amorphous private. Even within those laws, however, lay significant ambiguities, while in the real world of actual ritual, like Orfitus the augur's taurobolium, the public/private boundary tended to disintegrate, effaced to large extent by the prominence of family and/or patronage networks in all forms of religious life. The boundary
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AN EMPIRE OF FAMILY AND FRIENDS: PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RELIGIONS
between these spheres, although legally precise, was thus practically fluid and was thus only occasionally a source of tension or debate. Like the many cults that hadn't obtained actual state recognition, secondand third-century Christian communities had no legally articulated public to set against a concomitant private. As Novatian's harangue is testament, Christians also practiced both communal and individual rituals, yet thought about those activities in an increasingly different way from their polytheist fellows. By the third century, the organization of Christian communal groups was shifting away from the patronage and family structures that had governed them in post-Pauline period and moving, albeit slowly in some communities, towards a single authority centered on the bishop. Like Romans of all religious persuasions, Christians also engaged in private rituals apart from their communal groups, including eucharistic meals and private prayer. However, as was the case with Novatian, those private rituals were frequently the object of a preoccupied ecclesiastical gaze. Unlike their polytheist contemporaries, Christian bishops and clergy regarded the "private" of the home and the family as a potentially problematic space, distinctly different in quality than that supervised by communal authorities. Thus, although Christianity and paganism shared many basic social qualities, namely the importance of domestic space, private patronage, and the social prominence of families, they valued those structures very differently. It is this yawning "value gap" that would prove so hard to bridge after the Peace of the Church, challenging both a nascent episcopal hierarchy and the empire of family and friends to which all Christians also and simultaneously belonged.
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RELIGION
Public and Private as Legal Categories For the second-century grammarian Festus, public cult was an easily definable entity: "Public rites [publica sacra] are those which are performed at public expense on behalf of the [whole] people, and also those which are performed for the hills, villages, clans, and chapels, in contrast to private rites [privata] which are performed on behalf of individual persons, households, or family lineages." 12 Both for scholars like Festus, as well as for the politicians and jurists from whom he drew his definition, the religious public and private were clear, unambiguous entities. Publicness was determined by the beneficiary of cult and the source of its funding: public cult was carried out for the benefit of the state, by its officially sanctioned priests, and paid for out of collective funds. 13 Indeed, the purpose of Roman civic religion, to cultivate a correct and harmonious relationship between a community and its gods, dictated that
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only via the corporate body could ritual be efficacious. The participants in public cult thus embraced everyone who actually participated in the ritual, including the priests and magistrates, the flautists who accompanied the ritual recitations, carriers of the sacrificial instruments, the wielder of the sacrificial axe, as well as the great mass of onlookers who eagerly awaited the feasting that followed. These rituals were generally embedded in a whole day or days given over to public festival, dies feriales, when courts were closed and work, at least in theory, halted. The complete devotion of the corporate body was further guaranteed by the use of public funds to pay for the sacrifices, without which the entire cult was invalidated. I4 It becomes easy to understand why, when haruspices tried to perform their traditional rites in order to save Rome from the Gothic sack of 410 and were made to carry out their rituals alone, unfunded and in private, they gave up the idea as a lost cause. I5 From a legal perspective, everything that fell outside this rather narrow sphere of ritual action was left to the expansive and amorphous category of sacra privata. Much of the literature on "private cult" tends to focus only on the cult of the Lares or household gods, the result of a modern tendency to define private religion as familial. I6 Yet the household cults were but the tip of a vast private iceberg: any rituals, structures, or groups which were not funded through the public treasury AND not directed towards the well-being of a politically constituted unit, were, by default, private. I7 In the city of Rome alone the private as legal category embraced a huge range of rituals and spaces. The neighborhood shrines dedicated to the genius of the emperor (the Lares compitales) were carried out for the good of the state, but did not use public money and thus technically were part of the sacra privata. 18 So, too, were the shrines in the great grain warehouses, some of which were dedicated to the emperor by private individuals. 19 The hundreds of unofficial structures dedicated to the worship of eastern deities, such as the cave-like sanctuaries of Mithras, the large complexes dedicated to the eastern or Egyptian deities, and the burgeoning number of Christian community centers, were likewise all private. 2o Even the lone man in the bath, silently mouthing the Greek vowels as part of ritual against stomachache, or the aging gentleman who sacrificed a donkey to halt his premature baldness, were lumped into this same legal category.2I The private, in short, was the default legal category for Roman religious action, embracing everything that lay outside a precisely defined civic religion.
The Public Priesthoods: Family and Patronage Missing from Festus' concise definition of public and private cult is any discussion of the agents of ritual: rites undertaken "on behalf of the whole people" were clearly not performed by each and every citizen, but their representatives, the priests. Cicero, however, tells us who they are: "The worship of the gods
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and the highest interests of the state were entrusted to the same men. "22 As delegates of the Roman state, the priesthoods were civic offices held by politicians; priests, in other words, were public officials. Yet as such, they brought to public cult those harder-ta-categorize qualities that governed all Roman civic life, namely the overwhelming influence of family and patronage. The four principal priesthoods of the later Roman state (the pontifices, augures, quindecimviri, and epulones) and various minor orders (lesser jlamines, the Arval brotherhood, etc.) marked the apex of civic cultic hierarchy. Lower down the pyramid were local (jlamines perpetui) and provincial (sacerdotes provinciae) priests, who by the second and third centuries were largely responsible for the imperial cult. Although appearances of civic priests in the epigraphic and source records decline throughout the third and fourth centuries, the falloff is probably the result of a declining "epigraphic habit," rather than a decline in the office itself.23 The priesthoods in Athens continued through the fourth century, provincial priests are found in western France at the same time, and Constantine himself reformed and renewed the cult of his own family, the gens Flavia, which flourished in both Rome and North Africa. 24 Christians even seem to have held imperial priesthoods, abstaining from sacrifice but presiding over games and other rites. 25 The reason the priesthoods remained both relevant and desirable were not because they were specialized liturgical offices occupied by a professional cast of priests, but because they were always, and necessarily, civic offices. Cultic hierarchies echoed the political hierarchies of the community that cult represented. Cicero's confidence in the marriage of politics and religion into one class of persons is a logical extension of what Max Weber once termed a "theodicy of good fortune"; those favored by the gods, as witnessed by their wealth, breeding, and concomitant political office, were the community's natural and best representatives to the gods. 26 Thus, at the apex of political/religious organization stood the emperor as pontifex maximus; other major priestly offices were assumed largely by the senatorial aristocracy as a critical rung in the political ladder. Similarly, as the religious hierarchy aped the pyramidal structure of empire, so did religious action: the priests of civic cult acted before their communities as mini-emperors, mimicking his acts so that a stream of divine benevolence might flow naturally from the Capitoline temple in Rome to its innumerable smaller replicas in the towns throughout the empire. 27 And yet, these thousand-times-multiplied cultic acts consisted of more than performing public sacrifices in public temples, and herein lay the muddying of the public/private divide. Sacrifice was the spring from which flowed a whole succession of philanthropic gestures: the feasts and distribution of money and food that followed the sacrifice, and the games (ludi) and other entertainments that punctuated the sacred calendar. Thus, on each sacred holiday, the emperor and his representatives, from the members of the priestly colleges to the lowliest provincial jlamen, showered upon their cities and towns a reproduction of the
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hoped-for benevolence of the gods in form of food, money, and pleasure. An inscription from Kyme in Asia Minor lays out with bureaucratic-like precision how this social gravity-feed system functioned; a provincial priest and magistrate, Kleanax, named in succession each social group that would benefit from his sacrifices, "citizens, Romans, residents, foreigners," "free men and slaves," while he, representing the emperor to whom he sacrificed, served as the font from which all beneficence flowed. 28 The stream of sacrificial euergetism which linked divinity with populace via the priesthood did not leave the priest/priestess empty handed, but provided them individual benefit. By acting as representative for the community before the gods, the priest was resituated in that pyramid of divine benevolence, his or her place sealed by their cultic act. Stood before the populace in the temple, or in the circus, he/she did not engage in an empty display of status. The priesthood provided a divine sanction of the existing social order and as representatives of the community before the gods, priests were assured their status as individuals through the theodicy of good fortune. Such divine assurances should not be gainsaid as empty gestures, particularly in a world where fortune might breed fortune, but misfortune bred the same. Status and its divine sanction had to be continually maintained and curated through ever higher offices, and through ever greater acts of cultic generosity. Furthermore, fortune and status did not flow willy nilly from the gods to just anyone. The priesthoods, particularly the four major colleges, were frequently a family, or better, a domus, affair. Since the late republic, old families had staked their claim to specific priesthoods and while a family was forbidden from holding more than one in a single year, the pontifical offices nonetheless tended to pass along kinship lines. 29 The same was true in the late empire: from provincial priesthoods to the four major priestly colleges, sons followed fathers in family trees of priestly offices. 30 Indeed, the abovementioned inscription of the priest Kleanax makes prominent mention of his baby son, hinting that if the boy turned out well, he would naturally follow in his illustrious fathers' footstepsY Priestesses were also frequently selected through family ties, with women of certain aristocratic families monopolizing provincial and municipal priesthoods for generationsY Even average families might lay claim to secondary religious duties, like the Metropoli sisters of Ostia, both tambourine players for the Magna Mater, or the families of freedmen that dominated the Woodcutter Brotherhood at Cumae in service to the Great Goddess. 33 Cultic office likewise flowed from the generosity of patronage, a bond that often mingled with blood-kinship in Roman mentalities. 34 The mid fourth century aristocrat Petronius Probus was famous (and infamous) for his ability to translate the currency of his Anician gens into all sorts of offices, including priesthoods, for both family and friends. 35 Claudian raved of Probus' mansion, overflowing with clients, and claimed his family exceeded the great families
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of old, the Decii or the Scipiones, in the offices they controlled, a "fortune to which their birth entitles them. "3 6 The tendency to appoint as provincial magistrates "hometown" senators made the line between family, patronage, and civic-religious duty a fine one indeed. 37 The patroni oflate antique towns, prominently honored on fine bronze plaques, would frequently be hometown boys, civic magistrates, and civic priests all rolled into one, and thus their religious representation of their community was something akin to that of a paterfamilias' oversight of an overgrown household. It would be a mistake to dismiss these familial and patronage claims, as Amrnianus Marcellinus bitterly did, as simple nepotism. The sophisticated quid pro quo that shaped all Roman social relations was likewise assumed to be expected by the gods. 38 Divine bendlcia were mimicked by passing those same bendlcia on to others. 39 Family and friends were divinely constituted and approved channels through which divine fortune might flow as readily and rightly as it flowed through political office. To praise a person as the" offspring of high priests" or" daughter of a demiourgos" was to open those channels carved by generations of divine service and bring down the gods' favor, through his favorites, on the community at large. 4o In other words, although defined by collective will, civic religion relied upon non-collective, familial, and patronage structures to articulate the correct relationship with the gods. Through its priesthoods, Roman civic cult was also very much a religion of family and friends.
Consecratio/Dedicatio: Marking Public and Private Religious Space Like the priesthoods, the legal definition of religious space relied heavily on public/private distinctions. Festus again presents a tidy definition: Gallus Aelius said that sacrum is whatever is consecrated [consecratum sit] to the gods according to the customs and institutions of the state, whether a temple, an altar, an image, a place, or money, and dedicated and consecrated [dedicatum atque consecratum] to the gods. On the other hand, whatever is dedicated to the gods by private persons on account of their own religion [suae religionis causa] the Roman priests do not judge to be sacrum ... while the place where these rites are performed can hardly be called sacredY The designation of sacra was reserved for those spaces and things officially consecrated by the Roman pontificesY The marking out of the sacra, be it a temple and its enclosure or the giving of a statue, was carried out by the same principals that defined public ritual: the land had to be public land, and if not originally so then gifted or seized by the state. 43 This land and/ or structure did not necessarily possess any intrinsic sacred quality, but was made sacra through a specific ritual act - consecratio. Consecratio was undertaken by and for the community at large, and was thus authorized by the senate or the emperor,
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presided over by civic priests, and carried out with public funds. 44 Once consecrated, this newly constituted piece of the res sacra was legally unpossessable, for consecratio was, in affect, a real estate transaction, as ownership was passed from the state to the gods themselves. Real consecratio thus transformed a space into a synecdoche for the community which constituted it: at the center of the city's monumental "downtown" and laid deliberately next to the buildings of government, the city's temples manifested the city as a divinely ordained body actually "owned" by the gods. In this way the same word, templum, was used to describe any place where auguries for the well-being of the community were taken, even the Rostra or the Forum, as well as an actual consecrated building. 45 When individuals or families built shrines or temples, or offered gifts to the gods, their actions were placed in a wholly distinct legal container. Anyone could offer a dedicatio - a gift to the gods. 46 The thousands of votive inscriptions found in all kinds of cult sites, from civic temples to Mithraic sanctuaries, were largely made up of these private dedications, while smaller gifts stocked the niches of household shrines. 47 Just as their cities solicited divine favor through collective civic rituals, these monuments and inscriptions were the detritus of private people seeking divine aid. Yet legally, neither the votive offerings nor the house shrines properly belonged to the res sacra, but were technically profana, quasi consecrata or, if the object or space was funereal nature, religiosa. 48 Even an altar dedicated by a provincial priest to his sister was likewise technically profane, a personal request made by an individual who had set aside the robes of his priesthood and addressed the gods not pro populo, but simply as a brother.49 To dedicate suae religionis causa was to offer up a gift, with no guarantee of its approval, whereas to consecrate was to ritually obtain the gods' acceptance and thus their conferral of sacrality. 50 Just as consecratio was the province of the public, so was the conferral of the sacra. Similarly, while consecratio rendered an object unpossessable, dedicatio left it in human hands, and thus dedicated objects were still legally possessed by their owners. Indeed, the domestic shrine and its dedicationes was one of the litmus tests by which Roman law determined primary residency and thus the very distinction between a "house" and a "home."5 1 In principal, then, nothing could be clearer than the boundary between a publicly defined locus sacer and all that lay beyond it. Yet even within these legal distinctions lay muddy waters. Jurists and grammarians of the high empire sometimes used consecratio and dedicatio interchangeably: Festus himself says the public ceremony is called consecratio aut dedicatio, and then further defines dedicata as simply consecrata. 52 Ulpian similarly defined sacred spaces as those dedicata by the populace. 53 The classification of space was likewise somewhat muddled: loci sacri and loci religiosi were both unpossessable spaces, that is, both belonged to the gods, yet technically divine property rights were reserved only for the res sacra. 54 That is, by the high empire at least, the legal terminology
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separating the res sacra from the prcifana and religiosa was somewhat flexible, if not actually capricious. Terminology aside, the human decisions that lay at the heart of Roman conceptions of the sacra introduced ambiguities of their own. These were most famously exploited by Cicero in the affair of his house. 55 During the senator's exile, Cicero's archenemy Clodius had caused his house to be razed and, summoning a member of the priestly college, had the site consecrated to the goddess Libertas. Upon his return, Cicero argued before the pontifices that the consecratio had been invalid: public will, in the form of a senate vote, was not procured and the whole body of the pontifices was not present, rather only one of their newest members who also happened to be Clodius' brother-in-law. 56 It was family obligation, not collective approval that produced this ritual that was thus not technically a consecratio. Cicero's arguments reveal that even the careful definitions of the law could not provide an airtight description of "the ordinance of the state," and that the collective and the familial remained firmly entwined even in those circumstances designed to separate them. Further ambiguity lay in the actual reach of these laws. In theory, none of ius sacrum, including the definition of the res sacra, applied outside Italy. With the possible exception of southern Gaul, which early on may have been absorbed into the legal orbit of the ager Italicus, temples, shrines, and cultic objects throughout the rest of the empire were not technically sacra but only pro sacra.57 As Trajan was at pains to point out to Pliny during the latter's governorship in Bithynia, the definition of provincial sacred space fell to the dictates oflocal custom rather than Roman law, and even the provincial temples to the imperial cult could at most be considered only quasi-consecrata. 58 That is, by the later empire, the vast majority of religious structures throughout the empire fell outside the res sacra: this meant that not only was most of religious space in the Roman world privata and thus legally possessable by individuals or groups, but it also rendered the distinction between sacra and other kinds of religious space moot in the majority of cases. Outside the imprecision embedded in the laws were the further ambiguities introduced by Romans themselves. Regardless of legal niceties, it seems clear that individuals frequently regarded their house shrines, collegial temples, and personal dedications as having the same status and efficacy as those officially marked as sacra. 59 Romans frequently described their small and large gifts to the gods as having been not simply dedicata, but consecrata: in a tavern in Pompeii, one Felix described himself as having "consecrated" (con[se]c[rat]) a vow to the Lares, or household gods; in Rome, a third-century Roman knight consecrated (consecravit) an altar to Jupiter for his safe return from Cyprus; while the fourthcentury devotees of Magna Mater and their supporters typically described their votive altars as having been consecravit to the goddess, despite the fact that they commemorated the private ritual of the taurobolium. 60 Ulpian's distinctions notwithstanding, private dedications also had a way of rendering themselves
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RELIGION
and the space around them sacra. 61 When exiled by the senate, Cicero removed his favorite statue of the goddess Minerva from his home to that of "his father," the temple of the CapitolineJupiter. Not only did Cicero cast the civic Jupiter in the guise of "his" family deity, but he dedIcated his little Minerva as "the savior of the city," linking the goddesses' apotropaic powers to his own efforts to defend the state. 62 After Cicero's reinstatement, the statue was incorporated into the civic cult by senatorial decree: thus it became Minerva nostra, custos urbis. 63 A similar thing seems to have happened to a third-century fuller's shrine on the Esquiline in Rome: after a long legal battle, it was deemed part of the res sacra, in part, according to the inscribed records, because the presiding magistrate viewed there a variety of earlier "sacred images [imagines sacrae]." The presence of these images helped to render the whole space sacred, even though they were probably just private statue dedications by the group or its members.64 Despite Festus' protestations to the contrary, private rites and dedications produce a kind of sacral contagion, generating loci sacri in their wake. Thus, in one sense, the boundaries of sacred space were surveyed using precise distinctions between public and private, collective will and individual need. But even the jurists found the terminology and its implications cumbersome, and the courts were filled with those exploiting the porous sacralprofana boundary for personal gain. 65 Outside the courts, Romans seemed to have glided easily over these divisions, marking sacred territory they regarded as every bit as efficacious as that of the civic realm, but through their own agency rather than collective decree. 66
Household Cults and Their Public Roles In the constitutions of its priesthoods and in the marking of its sacred spaces, Roman civic religion absorbed many of the qualities marked out by the jurists as private, particularly the formative influence of families and patronage. The same can be said of those acts categorized as private: while legally distinct from civic cult, the vast and amorphous world of the sacra privata not only shared the concerns and social organization of public cult, but also frequently its social proIll1nence. Seemingly the most "private" of private cult, that of the household, is instructive in this regard. What is perhaps most striking about Roman household cult is that which has been least emphasized in the literature, namely its extraordinary variety. The cult of the Lares, Penates, and household genius is largely a phenomenon of the western empire, its origins of such great antiquity that these gods' exact nature was far from clear, even to Romans. 67 The Lares may have originally served as protectors of fields, that is, as gods of place, and evolved into general protectors of the home and guarantors of its prosperity; the Penates were particularly associated with the home's ancestral cult, while
AN EMPIRE OF FAMILY AND FRIENDS: PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RELIGIONS
the genius or female juno, in their familial guises, seem to have represented the divine spirit emanating from and/or watching over a person, particularly the pater- or mateifamilias. While this particular trio of gods is perhaps the best known, particularly in Italy, it is clear that household cult was individualized by each family. The household shrines of Pompeii, Herculaneum, and Rome were decorated with images of the gods which frequently fail to conform to any consistent iconography, and were stocked with statuettes of innumerable other deities: both phenomena were the product of each family's individual conception of the divine (Fig. 1).68 Outside Italy, the Lares/Penates/genius trio often gave way to other deities. Greek houses also had household shrines, similarly decorated with snake images that either depicted the agathos-daimon, a kind of genius loci, or held apotropaic and/or soteriological associations. Egyptian houses of the high to late empire have produced thousands of terracotta figurines of Harpocrates, the young Horus. Villa shrines in rural Gaul were dedicated to a local Venus-type goddess, while nameless deities were propitiated in the villas of the Pyrenees by sacrificing small birds and burying them beneath the floors. 69 Indeed, the hundreds of bronze statuettes of gods from Aion to Zeus that fill the cases in provincial museums are the barest remains from houses once attuned to all sorts of divine presence, from the standard pantheon of Greco-Roman deities to those worshipped in unofficial cults. 70 This hodgepodge of divinities embodied each household's persona; like a cultic fingerprint, they were unique expressions of familial identity, part of the legal and social definition of the domus itself.7 1 The Christian imperial restrictions and apologetic attacks against these cults in late fourth century thus begin to make sense: so central was domestic cult to individual familial identity that home altars continued to burn in households from Ostia to Alexandria. 72 Just as eclectic as the deities worshipped in houses were the spaces that housed their worship and it is here where the modern notions of the "private" household begin to collide with the far more expansive ancient familiae and domus. Household shrines took any number of forms, from simple wall niches or frescoes depicting the household gods, to more elaborate aediculae or even sacraria or sacella, small rooms given over to ritual use. 73 The location of these structures is revealing: Pompeian, Ostian, and North African household shrines appear most frequently in or off atria or peristyles, that is, in spaces open to a variety of the household's inhabitants and, most significantly, visitors.7 4 It is surely no coincidence that in the painted examples from Pompeii, the Penates plays a significant role in the iconography of these atrium/peristyle shrines: as the protective spirit of the gens as well as pateifamilias, the Penates were the religious manifestation of the family's past and present status, and thus for clients or household guests, stood as a cultic equivalent of their host.7 5 As the placement of these shrines would suggest, household rituals probably implicated a far wider group than simply the nuclear family.7 6 Birthday rituals,
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I. Shrine with figurines (possibly busts of ancestors and/ or deities) in the garden of the Casa del Menandro, Pompeii, first century A.D. (author).
seemingly the most family oriented occasions, are a good example: these rites centered on the family genius, to whom cakes, incense, and wine were offered at the home altar. But blood family members were not the only ones to participate in these celebrations: clients or prospective clients would enthusiastically celebrate the birthdays of their patrons or patronesses. The poet Tibullus celebrated his patron Messalla's birthday in high style: "Let me give you the honor of incense ... let me bring you cakes sweet with honey," concluding by covering a statuette of Messalla's genius with unguents and wreaths. 77 Censorinus, writing in the third century, compared his patron's gifts to him with the bounty of the gods, and celebrated his patron's birthday thus as a festival of thanks; "I am bound every year by a double duty as regards this religious observance, for since it is from you and your friendship that I
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receive esteem, position, honor, and assistance, and in fact all the rewards of life .... "78 Censorinus' effusive devotion echoes the very ambiguous nature of the genius or juno as both a guardian spirit and in some way, the deified individuals themselves. Indeed, these clients describe patronal birthday rituals as an addition to their own personal sacral calendar, the sacrifices to the genius/juno of patron/patroness celebrated alongside more mainstream civic festivals. In short, the birthday ritual is a particularly neat example of the way in which patronage itself had a religious and ritual location; a cultic equivalent to the morning salutatio, these in absentia celebrations not only reiterated social hierarchies, but permitted the client to slip into his patron's social network using a cultic shoehorn. Similarly central to household rituals were the household's broaderjamilia, particularly its slaves and other dependents. 79 Servants and slaves had pivotal roles in household cult: a significant percentage of the household shrines in Pompeii and Herculaneum (although not, interestingly, in Ostia) were located in service quarters, mostly in kitchens, while large houses frequently had multiple shrines, one in the atrium or other public space and another in the service quarters (Fig. 2).80 As noted before, the shrines of atrium and peristyle could be quite elaborate, accommodating the personal smorgasbord of deities beloved by the home's inhabitants. Shrines in kitchens, however, were relatively simple, articulated by paintings of the Lares, Penates, and perhaps the family genius, but rarely with statuettes of other gods, suggesting that ritual here was directed solely towards the jamilia, perhaps even specifically towards the servile jamilia, as a collective unit. 8 ! Indeed, many of these service-quarter shrines may have been built and supervised by the servants themselves, who frequently formed collegia or corpora dedicated to their household's Larjamiliaris and/or its genius. 82 One kitchen shrine in a Pompeian house includes the whole jamilia arrayed in worship behind the Lar (see Fig. 2), while a small meeting room for just such a collegium was found in a late second-century home in Acholla, Tunisia, where the cultores domus set up an inscription to the household's head, one M. Asinius Rufinus Sabinianus. 83 The activities of these household collegia were not limited to the house; traces of their presence have been found in public inscriptions throughout the Roman west, dedicating statues and altars to the get1ius of their master or the Lares of their own slave jamilia. 84 Why slaves should have bothered to worship the deities of the family that enslaved them, or engage in their own "familial" cult when they were denied their own families is particularly revealing of Roman religion's social logic. As we have already noted in the case of civic cult, Roman religion was not simply a prop for the established social order, it was the cultic result of that order. The Lares, and particularly the genius were the spiritual exhaust produced through the engine of properly ordered family life; these gods actually derived their specific qualities from familial structure itself. In a certain sense, servants were the human equivalent of the Lares,
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RELIGION
2. Kitchen shrine, house I I3,2, Pompeii, with detail of the fomiIia at sacrifice, first century A.D. (courtesy of the Ministero per i Beni e le Attivita Culturali. Archivo Fotografico della Soprintendenza Archeologica di Pompei A 8469; AFSD 3555).
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working at the hearth and preparing food, watching over the household and serving as the very agents of productivity. 85 Thus slaves' role had a divine counterpart and by acting as cultic impresarios, slaves emphatically and purposefully claimed the role, and attendant power, of guardianship and production. Likewise, the familia of slaves formed a distinct, yet integral part of the larger domus whose proper constitution required its own, parallel cultic expression. 86 If much of this sounds a refrain already familiar from civic cult, it is because both civic cult and domestic cult were, in different ways, models of and for the same social order, 87 Indeed, one of the first truly imperial pieces of religious reform was Augustus' transformation of the Lares compitales, the ancient Roman neighborhood shrines, into shrines of the Lares and Genius augusti. 88 That is, just as dependents cultivated their family's gods, so now each neighborhood would devote itself to its ur-patron, the emperor and his family. These shrines were repaired and persisted through late antiquity, enlarged versions of each household's shrine, just as the emperor was everybody's larger-than-life pateifamilias. 89 Conversely, imperial household cult was embraced in family homes, not through mindless sycophantism or top-down enforcement, but as a natural outgrowth of the hierarchies already at play in domestic cult. 90 Tacitus claims that each household boasted a group of cultores augusti, seemingly servants and slaves specifically devoted to the imperial cult, just as other of their brethren devoted themselves to the closer-to-home family genius. 9I The heads of household, too, seem to have made room in their shrines for images of the emperor and his family and worshipped them among their household gods. Ovid's description of his own silver statues of Augustus' household and his daily morning rituals in front of them was clearly designed to flatter; Pliny the Younger's description of a domestic shrine to Claudius shows that beneath the panegyric, Ovid's rituals were common ones. 92 Closer to our period, a series oflater fourth- or fifth-century bone statuettes of emperors and empresses may have come from Syrian household shrines. 93 As with the collegia of the Lares familiares, emperor worship was not foisted upon households; rather, it was a natural outgrowth of patronal cult in which the aber-patron and pateifamilias was the emperor, himself increasingly regarded as a living god. 94 While the imperial cult may be the most obvious piece of civic cult to make its way into the home, the ties that bound domestic worship with the public sphere were multi-stranded and complex. That complexity is most visible in what would seem the most private of rituals, the commemoration of the dead. The cult of the dead was, in one sense, a quintessentially family affair.9s Most frequently it was immediate kin who bathed and wrapped the dead, mourned them in the home for a given period and laid their inscriptions of grief and memory over the tomb. Images of deceased ancestors were, by the later first or second century, making increasing appearances in household shrines and temples where they were worshipped alongside the household deities. 96 With the growth of private collegia or voluntary associations in the second and third
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RELIGION
centuries, the burdens of burial, tomb maintenance, and commemorative ritual might be shared among a person's various 'familiae,' both those of blood and those of common status or occupation. 97 And yet, while tombs were largely the province of families, public religious law placed many restrictions on their disposition. An occupied tomb, while not part of the res sacra, occupied the more nebulous category of the res religiosa; it was thus technically in the possession of the gods and both inalienable and inviolate. 98 However, a stroll through the cemetery of Isola Sacra outside Ostia, whose many inscriptions speak frankly of buying, selling, and owning and whose remains display ample remains of spoliation and re-use, suggests this restriction was widely ignored. Furthermore, while fainilies were the principal impresarios of funerary ritual, these ceremonies frequently had wider resonance. While the great funerals for patricians of the Republican period were a thing of the distant past, cities might still put on a Junus publicum for local notables, transforming the familial funeral procession into a grand, city-wide event. 99 The month of February was largely given over to festivals for the dead; the Parentalia, the Feralia, and the Caristia embedded individual families' celebration of their dead at tomb-side into a state holiday with public processions and sacrifice, the whole culminating back in the private home with sacrifices in the household shrine. roo Here again the action of individuals and the actions of the state were flip sides of the same commemorative coin. Even tomb architecture reflects this mixed cast: while by the third century Roman tombs were typically miniature houses that hosted only the immediate family's funerary feast, in the provincial cities of the East, tombs were still great road-side billboards, proclaiming the status and achievements of the deceased to all passersby.!01 These urban houses and tombs, whose public/private border proves so messy and permeable, constituted only the barest tip of a greater iceberg of household cultic activity. It is too easy to forget that some ninety percent of the population lived in a very different religious world, that of the countryside. r02 The countryside was filled with its own gods whose careful propitiation was urgently necessary to tame a capricious climate. So, too, the social structure of this rural world produced its own particular modes of worship. In the West, that structure was dominated in many areas by a particular means of holding and cultivating land, the villa. Villas were private estates comprised of a (frequently large) house, its disparate, often non-contiguous parcels of land and the people who worked that land, an assortment of slaves, tenant farmers, seasonal workers, and overseers. Religious life on the estate was, not surprisingly, bound to the tenure of land and its management, that is, to the particular sociology of rural life. The boundaries of the estate were set by the ritual placement of property markers, each consecrated with a sacrifice; a lustratio ritual purified the land by sacralizing its boundaries; and of course, the dominus or landowner himself was intermediary between the
33
AN EMPIRE OF FAMILY AND FRIENDS: PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RELIGIONS
3. Plan and reconstruction, Newel villa and temple, second-third centuries A.D. (Clippers and Neyses 1990, figs. I and 14).
land, its workers, and the agrarian gods, their tri-partite bond renewed each fall with the donation of the first fruits, ritually passed from laborer to dominus to gods. 103 As domini were frequently absent from their estates, the vilicus, or bailiff, and/or the vilica (sometimes, but not necessarily the former's wife) were designated as their cultic understudies: just as they stood in for the domini in matters of management, so too, these two persons might stand for them before the gods, natural replacements which had nonetheless to be controlled, less they engage in any rituals outside those delegated to them. 104 The material face of estate religiosity provides a most revealing glimpse into its social structure. In central and northern Gaul, western Hispania, Britain, and possibly in central Italy, freestanding, often large, temples were a frequent sight on villa lands. 105 While some of these temples, like that at Mayen in the Rhineland, were simply modest square or rectangular structures, identifiable by the presence of votive objects, others, like that at Newel, assumed forms peculiar to rural northern Europe, particularly the so-called ambulatory temples or umgangstempeln (Fig. 3).106 These temples had a central cella surrounded on all four sides by a roofed portico, and dotted the countryside of
34
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RFLIGION
4. Milreu villa temple with podium mosaics, late fourth century A.D. (author).
Gaul, Germania, and Britain. The particular form is found most commonly in communal rural cult centers, suggesting that villa owners adopted the outward face of local rural religion, rather than imitating urban forms. I0 7 While cultic artifacts from villa temples are often sparse, the most common finds rough votive altars and terracotta images of Venus-type figures - describe the rituals oflocal rural folk, most likely the estate's peasantry.108 The location of these temples, typically some distance from the villa buildings, often on an access road and sometimes set as much as a kilometer away, likewise points to a worshipping population comprised of the estate workers and passersby. I0 9 These liminal locations, along with the occasional discovery of votive deposits at the edges of the villa itself, may, like the lustratio and property rituals, reveal an emphatic ritualization of the estate's boundaries. I 10 The possession ofland was part and parcel of human social structures, and, like them, had its cultic expreSSIOn. The role of the dominus in estate culture might also be guessed from these temples. In each province, these temples appear during times of particular rural prosperity, when villa construction was at its height: in northern Gaul or Britain, villa temples were added in the second century, and often persisted through the third, while in southern Gaul and Hispania they seem to have corresponded with the fourth-century villa "boom" in these areas. I I I Villa temples were thus monumental expressions of wealth and status, part and parcel of broader monumentalizing impulses. The mosaic-encrusted podium of the fourth-century temple at Milreu (Portugal) (Fig. 4), or the fine marble cornices at the temple at Valentine (Haute-Garonne) are the rural counterparts to urban civic religion that united the splendor of the gift, the status of the giver, and the concomitant guarantee of god-given fortune. II2 So, too, the
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AN EMPIRE OF FAMILY AND FRIENDS: PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RELIGIONS
rural world had its own intensely competitive social hierarchy and obligatory euergetistic traditions. Thus, it can be no accident that many concentrations of villa-temples grew up in rural landscapes packed with rural temples of all kinds. I 13 Rural temples were often huge complexes, complete with their own periodic markets, or nundinae, which are best attested in North Africa, but were also present in Gaul, Hispania, and Italy. 1 14 These temple/market complexes were enormously popular and profitable, and local domini may have imitated them on their own estate, using them to secure local loyalties and build a sense of estate-inspired community. I I 5 As the Roman agronomists unanimously agreed, keeping one's rural workforce close to home made slaves and tenants alike more productive and more easily controlled. 116 In building a villa-temple, a dominus engaged in a kind of sacrificial euergetism, but by emphatically tying it to the estate, he may have tried to keep the beneficiaries of that giving, namely his rural workforce, close to home. Villas were, above all, emphatic spaces: the monumental masses of rooflines loomed sentry-like over still thinly populated landscapes, staking claim to the land. Land was still the most basic and revered claim to social status, not only as the primary source of aristocratic income and as a prerequisite for political office, but also because it provided a place to hang one's lineal hat. Even though land passed in and out of aristocratic hands at an astounding rate, the ideological virtues of "the ancestral estate," whether the plot in question was owned for centuries or a few years, were widely trumpeted. Il7 From Ausonius' poem on "his little estate," (some 260 hectares), passed down from his ancestors, to the list of familial founders set over the door of Pontius' Leontius' villa, the late antique aristocrat's lineage was mapped onto his rural estate. lIS The estate was thus, in some sense, a monument to self as defined by inherited land. I 19 Estate mausolea, great funerary monuments frequently placed at the villa's edge, made manifest this link between land and ancestry by anchoring family funeral cult to ancestral lands. 120 Cicero's grief-maddened plans to build an estate tomb-heroon to his daughter Tullia are an oft-cited example of the type, but Cicero was not alone: other villa-owners in the Roman suburbium frequently built monumental tombs on their villa property, and by the late empire, even within the precincts of the villa itself. 121 The third-century equestrian who built both a heroon and his own funerary monument on his praetiolum seems to echo Cicero's own project, while the great templemausoleum added to the sumptuous villa Ad duas lauros on the Via Labicana, also during the third century, demonstrates the grandeur these monuments might attain (Fig. 5).122 The practice was also popular in certain provinces, such as Hispania and parts of Gaul, where the rural villa rivaled the urban necropolis as site of commemorative display. I2 3 Like their urban brethren, these mausolea assumed the various au courant forms of Roman funerary architecture. Thus, in northeast and central Gaul, a pre-Roman tradition of intra-farm burial continued during the high empire, but now with a Roman face, for instance,
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RELIGION
5. Reconstruction, Ad duas la w'os villa and temple, Rome, fourth century A.D. (after Volpe 2003, fig. 12).
the tumuli next to the villa at Newel (see Fig. 3), or the tower tomb in the courtyard at the villa of Bierbach. 1 24 In Hispania, the cruciform, vaulted mausoleum set adjacent to the villas at Sadaba (Fig. 6) or Jumilla reflect the late antique predilection for vaulted funerary architecture. 125 Set some distance from the villa proper, fi.-equently on an access road or a prominent high point, or, less frequently, within the villa's courtyard, these mausolea laid claim to the surrounding land through the memory of domini past and bolstered their descendents' claims in the present. 126 The detailed instructions for an estatetomb left by Sextus Iulius of Lignon describes not only the extraordinary resources domini were prepared to invest in these projects, but also the degree to which the surviving gens and the estate were embodied in the tomb itself. I27 The creation of what amounted to a sacral-familial landscape was not simply an exercise in familial self-promotion, but like the villa temple, part and parcel ofland management.
Public and Private in the "Unofficial Cults" If Roman civic and household cults are found to muddy the public/private divide, the thousands of unofficial cults of the empire, some of which modern scholars have termed "oriental" or "mystery" cults, obscure these distinctions
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AN EMPIRE OF FAMILY AND FRIENDS: PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RELIGIONS
even further. Their communal, inclusive membership seemed to elide modern notions of "the private," while their at-time deliberately foreign rituals seemed to thumb their collective nose at civic Romanitas. Yet just as it has become clear that these "unofficial" cults cannot be ghettoized from "normative" Roman religion, so too, no study of private religiosity can be complete without considering them. '28 Indeed, if there is any feature that distinguishes later Roman religious practice from that of the late republic and early Principate, it is surely the increasing popularity and multiplicity of these unofficial cult groups, and the centrality of the small group to all kinds of Roman religious experience. 129 Under the rubric "unofficial" is typically placed the thousands of ad-hoc religious associations formed by artisans and trades people, the eastern cults of Mithras, Jupiter Dolichenus and Bal, the Egyptian cults to Serapis and Attis, and the so-called monotheistic groups ofJews, Christians, and 'God-Fearers,' of Levanti ne origins. Their most basic commonality was their unofficial status: these were cults which had never been officially examined by the quindecimviri, the priesthood responsible for approving new cults for civic worship, and thereby never added to the official roster of Roman civic deities. '30 Some might apply for approval as collegia or corpora, voluntary associations, many of which had a religious cast, although the absence of such approval probably had little impact of their ability to meet, own property, and carry out their rituals. 131 Also, unlike official civic worship, many of these groups also practiced forms of initiation, which separated true members from non-members, insiders from outsiders. All of these cults, by virtue of their unofficial status and exclusive membership, were by definition and default part of the great sacra privata. Unofficial cults were marked, too, by their own particular spatial qualities. Unofficial cult sites were technically banned from inside the pomerium, the ritual boundary that defined the city as a sacred public entity.'3 2 Their architecture also tended towards the unofficial-looking and ad hoc: from a "basilica" dedicated to the Magna Mater on the Caelian Hill in Rome and a mithraeum in a house near the Colosseum (Fig. 7), to a house mithraeum on the Syrian boarder at Dura Europos, unofficial cults frequently met in homes, streets, porticos, and baths, either partially or wholly transformed for ritual purposes. 133 Frequently, the owners of these establishments didn't restrict themselves to donating or renting out the space: like Manius Publicius Hilarus of the Caelian Magna Mater shrine, these owners were often the cult's impresarios, assuming major priesthoods or other positions of power in the group and in Hilarus' case, even giving his name to the group itself. 134 Thus, with the donation of private space frequently came its dominus, a bit of social baggage that could heavily influence these cults' internal hierarchies. Superficially, the social composition of these cults would seem to differ radically from the familial/political-based structures in "public" cult. Earlier studies of these cults, which tended to take ancient polemic at face value,
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RELIGION
t 6. Plan, Sidaba villa and mausoleum, fourth century A.D. (after Garcia y Bellido I963, fig. I).
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enthused over their democratic inclusivity, offering slaves, women, and other groups sidelined in civic religious experience positions of power and influence. Other cults, like those to Mithras and Jupiter Dolichenus, were largely limited to men, but otherwise, socially inclusive. 135 More sober epigraphic studies have shown, however, that socio-political status, even if it be of a purely local nature, frequently translated into cultic status, either priestly or patronal; the pater of the local military-camp Mithraic group was more often than not a higher ranking officer, equestrian, or veteran, and indeed, the cult's complex symbolic hierarchies mapped those common to Greco-Roman culture generally. 13 6 Similarly, the perpetual priestess of Magna Mater might be a member of a high-ranking local family.137 The men of the senatorial class would seem to be the exception, being loath to join these cults during the high empire, but by the later third century, senators were claiming the priesthoods of Isis, Magna Mater, and the various Syrian gods, just as their wives and provincial colleagues had done somewhat earlier.13 8 All this is not to deny that slaves and others of low status might occupy positions of power in these cults, but rather to note that traditional hierarchies, political and otherwise, were not so easily shrugged off. In this respect, the role of families and friends in the expansion of these cults is also frequently underplayed, implying that the rise of small-group cults
39
AN EMPIRE OF FAMILY AND FRIENDS: PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RELIGIONS
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PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RELIGION
8. Inscription commemorating the thiasos of Agripinilla, second century A.D. (courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, accession no. 26.60·7oab).
in the second and third centuries was accompanied by the concomitant decay of family bonds. 139 Yet no less than the civic priesthoods, unofficial cults were fundamentally shaped by families and friends. Studies of modern cultic groups like the Moonies or Scientologists have demonstrated the overwhelming power of family and friends as recruitment tools: so, too, the epigraphic record of unofficial cults finds mothers bringing their daughters, fathers their sons and brothers, and everyone bringing their slaves. 140 A society ofDionysius worshippers, headed by Agripinilla, wife of the consul of 150 A.D., had as its members the priestess' husband, daughter, and household slaves (Fig. 8).141
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AN EMPIRE OF FAMILY AND FRIENDS: PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RELIGIONS
Even the idea for the project seems to have stemmed from Agripinilla's family history, for her ancestor, Theophanes, biographer of Pompey the Great, may have been a devotee. Yet this group, with its family-only membership list, is but an extreme example of what was, in a more understated way, common practice. The fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, brothers and sisters who together undertook the bloody rites of the taurobolium to Magna Mater; the brothers and sisters who served together as priestesses in the cults of Magna Mater and Isis; the fathers and sons who worshiped Jupiter Dolichenus in his shrine on the Aventine in Rome and the army families who attended the same god in Lambaesis in Algeria: in towns across the empire, these small associations were bound not simply by their shared devotion to a god, but also the family ties through which membership and word of the cult spread. 142 Extended patronage families likewise joined up together, like the dependents of three mid second-century toll-collectors on the upper Danube, who were prodded to join their local Mithraic group by their employers. 143 While the ties of friendship are less frequently a subject of epigraphic commentary and thus harder to trace, testaments like those of Aelius Aristides, whose incubations in the temple of Asclepius in Pergamon were encouraged, regulated, even mediated through friends, find amici acting not only as recruiters, but cheerleaders and intermediaries, helping the inductee carry out the god's will in real life. 144 The world of unofficial cults was, by and large, an urban world, nourished by trade, the presence offoreigners and permanent military garrisons. When these cults left the city, they often flourished under the same umbrella as did other rural religion, namely the rural estate. At Arellano, in Navarra, a small room with two altars inscribed with bulls' heads was added to the villa in the later third or fourth century and has been interpreted as a space for taurobolic ritual. A handful of similar altars from the same area, some found on villa sites, may point to a widespread phenomenon. 145 In the Rhineland and in southern Gaul, the cult of Mithras seems to have migrated from army camps and garrisoned cities to be embraced by villa owners, their dependents, or both: estates such as Mackwiller, Rockenhausen, Mundelsheim, and Mandelieu have produced Mithraic temples and seem to have sponsored Mithraic associations. 146 The owners of villas outside Rome who were also prone to build villa temples likewise hosted unofficial cults on their estates; the Lucius Cornelius Scipio Orfitus with whose taurobolium ritual we began this chapter, may have set up his own sanctuary to Magna Mater on his Via Appia estate. 147 On an estate outside Formiae in southern Latium, early excavations revealed another sanctuary to the goddess, also the site of one man's private taurobolium. 148 The slim epigraphic corpus from these villa cults provides no insight as to how their organization meshed with that of the estate itself; one presumes the dominus was a central figure, either as priest or patron, and that the worshippers were drawn from the estate's dependent population or nearby rural communities.
42
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RELIGION
However, while unofficial cults drew heavily on traditional political/family structures for their hierarchy, the nature of religious experience they offered was far more intensely personal in nature: exactly the opposite of the pro populo direction of civic cult, personal development· and change were often bound up with cultic initiation. I49 Thus, Apuleius describes an intense, personal relationship with Isis after his initiation, the promise of personal succor in daily life and upon death. I50 The symbolic language of Mithraism encouraged its initiates to emulate their heroic god and fight evil wherever they encountered it, as well as to project the ritual purity of cult into their daily lives. I5I The castration of the priests of Magna Mater was an extreme example of how ritual emulation, in this case of the goddess' consort, would produce personal transformation. Communal identity was fostered by pressing these individual experiences into criteria for priestly advancement; Isaic initiates practiced frequent incubation in the temple precincts, hoping for divinely sent dreams and visions, which in turn served as occasions for promotion. I52 Mithraic devotees rose in their own complex hierarchy of grades by rigorous abstinence from pollution and study of the stars, that is, by plain, hard work. I53 Personal spiritual development thus jostled against the real-world forces of familial and social status in the articulation of cultic communities. Allied to this emphasis on personal transformation was the particular sense of "specialness" these cults fostered among their members. Whether through the dream-induced attentions of Isis, or in the arcane secrets hidden in a Mithraic map of the night sky, unofficial cults typically offered their members secret, special knowledge and experiences. These experiences, at least in the context of the cult, set them apart from those who lacked such knowledge. The deliberate mantle of foreignness assumed by many of these cults, from the long-haired, hippie-castrati priests of Magna Mater, to the profusion of Nilotic costume and imagery in Isaic processions also helped them mark a space apart, both cashing in on Roman propensities to revere eastern knowledge and generally separating themselves from the everyday.I54 It mattered not that this foreignness was largely feigned: Mithraic cult bore no more resemblance to its alleged Zoroastrian origins than did the small water basins in Isaic temples resemble the Nile. "Foreignness" was ambiguous in any case, particularly for cults that had flourished on Roman soil for centuries, and their artificiality was no hindrance to their primary purpose, the creation of specialness. 155 This is not to say that initiates identified themselves solely by this cultically derived individuality, that they limited themselves to a single cultic affiliation or that they placed themselves in anyway outside the bounds of "normal" society. 15 6 Rather, we should understand the specialness offered by unofficial cults as a distinctive patch added to one's coat of identities. Individuals like Praetextatus and his wife, whose tombstone read like a Rolodex of cultic membership cards (no less than thirteen cults between the two, including Sol, Liber, Mithras, and Isis) seem to have layered these cultic identities with other roles - civic
43
AN EMPIRE OF FAMILY AND FRIENDS: PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RELIGIONS
priesthoods, magistracies, or parenthood - coloring the traditional aura of the homo religiosus with a particular, individualized hue. 157 These unofficial cults, with all their complex melange of personal religiosity, traditional familial/political hierarchies, and air of distinctiveness, skirted the fine line between official civic cult and the private, a line which may have become more permeable during the third century and later. 158 Rituals and processions ofIsis, tied since the Flavian period to the imperial house, appear by the Calendar of 354 as part of the official civic calendar; taurobolia were increasingly performed in public, were often attended by quindecimviri (although it is not always clear they were there in their official capacity); and membership in these cults was touted in public inscriptions alongside the record of civic priesthoods. 159 The emperors themselves were major public adherents to these cults, publicizing their initiations and using their considerable influence to increase their chosen cult's popularity.160 Perhaps most importantly, the space of unofficial cults was becoming a major part of the urban and even rural landscapes; occupying ever larger spaces within the pomerium, taking over streets and other public spaces, the temples to the unofficial gods were an evermore conspicuous presence. That is, something of the singular quality of religious experience offered by these cults, marked by individual ritual action and distinctive group identity all bound in a matrix of familial/political hierarchies, began to soak into general notions of Roman religiosity. What might be termed the individualism, or better, the cellular quality of unofficial cult was becoming, by the late third century, part of what it meant to do religion in the Roman world. Superstitio and Magia: Tensions between Public and Private As has now hopefully become clear, the border between public and private religiosities in Roman religion was legally precise and practically porous: the cult of the emperor was ineluctably tied to the daily small sacrifices made by every head of household, while the private initiations into the cult of Magna Mater was paraded as part of civic religious status. This porosity was largely due to the centrality of Roman familial and political structures to all forms of cult: as we have repeatedly suggested, these structures didn't simply govern the hierarchies of religious organizations, but shaped the very aims of ritual and the nature of Romans' relationships with the divine. Given the shared sociology of most civic and private religion, it is hardly surprising that tensions between these different modes of experience were generally low. Rituals were assumed to be religio licita, acceptable religious practice, unless proven otherwise, and the history of Roman religion, on the whole, contains very few moments of major religious strife. 161 What conflicts did occur involved accusations of superstitio, which by the late empire tended to mean illicit foreign rites, or magia, rituals designed to harm others.
44
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RELIGION
Defining superstitio and magia has proven a major challenge for modern scholars not least because they were ambiguous categories for the Romans themselves. Rituals undertaken to harm others were generally regarded as magical and roundly condemned by the ancients, but other kinds of rituals were not so clearly defined. For instance, the great recipe books of private rituals preserved in the Egyptian sands are typically termed the "magical" papyri. Yet there is often very little to distinguish these "magical" texts from the thousands of votives in public shrines or scrawled prayers on city walls: both were undertaken by everyone from the emperor to the lowliest slave, always at times of need, and both took as many forms as did life's hardships - from business troubles or headache, to a bug-infested house. 162 The rituals might involve prayers, the collection and/or sacrifice of special plants or animals, or the inscription of a text on an amulet or metal sheets (lamellae) in which the words themselves, frequently a god's secret name or a particular combination of letters, would serve as agents of power. All of these rituals were attempts to harness and control a world saturated with divine presence by using arcane knowledge, traditional prayers, and sacrifice. 1 6 3 Just as these rituals were an integral part of personal religiosity generally defined, so, too, their format was drawn from generalized rituals in other types of cult. The prayers used in personal rituals were simply modified versions of those used in the public temples. 164 Frequently, mini-shrines would be used in personal rituals, tiny miniaturized models of the great public temples, whose very form was thought to have some ritual power. 165 Similarly, it is probably a mistake to assume that the agent of ritual power was always a specialist "magician," who made his living selling "spells." Given the intimate connection between other forms of religious life and personal rituals, persons with access to these rituals may well have been local priests, as has been suggested in Egypt. 166 Personal rituals were thus awash in the larger stream of need, ritual habit, and cultic expertise that ran through all Roman religious life. Given the difficulty of separating magical acts from other kinds of rituals, it is hardly surprising that accusations of magia tended to accrue not around specific activities, but general moments of social tension. 167 The restrictions on Bacchic cult were principally aimed at the group's growing social and financial apparatus; the periodic banishment of the cults ofIsis in 59,58, 53, and 50 B.C. seem to have corresponded with the death throes of the Republic; the major Christian persecutions under Decius and Valerian may have been an outgrowth of the religious revolution ushered in by Caracalla's expansion of citizenship; and the mid fourth-century imperial edicts against augury were coincident with a particular rash of coups and usurpations. 168 That is, allegations of superstitio and magia were negative thought-categories, encapsulating the religious activities of those persons already deemed guilty of other crimes. They formed the basis of what one scholar has recently termed a "discourse of ritual censure,"
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an ever-flexible polemic used to define a religious "other." 169 As Claude LeviStrauss might have it, magia and superstitio were good to think with, or more aptly, good to shout with. 170 What interests us here are the social building blocks Romans used to construct their accusations. What or who was it that first raised the hackles of potential accusers and why were these actions/people/circumstances so able to enflame collective worry? The newness or foreignness of cultic practices often set off alarm bells for a traditional Roman elite struggling to continue as arbiters of Romanitas in an expanding, complex empire. 171 Yet lying even deeper beneath most magical accusations lay the volatile, tectonic boundary created when power invested in public institutions collided with that based on personal or charismatic abilities. 172 That is, behind the relatively infrequent accusations of superstitio and magia there lay a certain tension between public, that is, civic, religiosity, and various kinds of "the private. "173 The suspect private might be personally, spatially, and/or temporally defined. When Apuleius, that famous devotee of Isis and connoisseur of all manner of religious experience, was accused in 158 A.D. of practicing illicit rites to procure a wealthy, older bride, the prosecution rested their case heavily on a public/private dichotomy.1 74 The accused was said to have taken a boy to a secret place (secretus locus) with an altar and practiced incantations upon him that drove him to fits. I75 Fifteen slaves were present and could verify this. Apuleius, representing himself, countered that if so many persons witnessed the event, it could hardly have been private, and thus illicit (inlicitum): "Now this magic of which you accuse me is, I am told, a crime in the eyes of the law ... It is then as mysterious an art as it is loathly and horrible; it needs as a rule night-watches and concealing darkness, solitude absolute and murmured incantations, to hear which few free men are admitted, not to speak of slaves. And yet you will have it that there were fifteen slaves present on this occasion. Was it a marriage? Or any other crowded ceremony? Or a seasonable banquet? Fifteen slaves take part in a magic rite as though they had been created quindecimviri for the performance of sacrifice?" 176 As Apuleius himself noted, any action could be construed as magical and improper; it was context that was the ultimate arbiter.177 Thus, the very definition of inlicitum here hung on a private context, defined by isolation from others. It can hardly be a coincidence that most of those socalled "magical" texts prescribed rituals that were to take place alone, usually in the home or in the solitary hours of the night. 178 Minucius Felix's pro-pagan interlocutor, Caecilius, likewise voiced an angry rant against the occulta sacra of the Christians: they recognized each other by secret signs and symbols (occultis se notis et insignibus noscunt) while their rituals were undertaken in secrecy and darkness. Caecilius concludes that these acts alone point strongly to guilt and are sufficient to cast doubt over the entire Christian
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RELIGION
enterprise. The occasional strictures placed on augury, by Augustus, Tiberius, and later by. the houses of Constantine and Valentinian, likewise took aim specifically at specific private rituals, in this case divination: "We prohibit soothsayers and priests and those persons who are accustomed to Ininister to such ceremonies to approach a private house or to cross the threshold of another person under the pretext of friendship. But ... we do not forbid the ceremonies of the old observance to be conducted openly (lib era luce)."I79 Most of these regulations probably stemmed from the belief that private augury was being used to predict imperial successors and thus to hatch seditious plots. ISO In the crowded, cacophonous world of the Roman city, "the private" Inight also lie simply in murmurs that only the utterer could hear. M~rmured prayers were inherently suspicious in a world in which all prayer, whether in forum or home, was expected to be vocalized and loud. ISI To pray into one's chest was to pray for the forbidden: " 'A sound Inind,' 'A fair name,' 'good credit,' - such prayers a man utters aloud, and in a stranger's hearing - the rest he mutters to himself, under his breath [sub lingua murmurat], '0 if only my uncle would pop off! What a fine funeral I would give him!' ... or 'If only I could wipe out that ward of Inine who stands next before me in the succession .... "'IS2 To murmur prayer was to shred the paper-trail that documented communication with the divine. Those people most insistently associated with the private sphere were also objects of particular suspicion, namely women. IS3 The age-old stereotype of the evil female witch was as current in third- and fourth-century Rome as it was in eighteenth century Salem. Women figured proIninently in the allegations of impropriety in the Bacchanalia controversy, the purges of Isis' cult, and the Christian persecutions. Scholars tend to point to women's status as societal "outsiders" and male fears of women's unarticulated brand of power as responsible for the topos, yet the topography of gender and of gendered morality Inight also be to blame. The home was the locus of Roman idealized womanhood, its walls the ramparts that protected a woman's virtue and the convenient boundaries that defined "appropriate" female activity. IS4 That the Roman women whose statues graced the fora or whose monies built its temples and porticos actually spent their lives solely indoors is highly unlikely, but the day-to-day realities didn't diIninish the popularity of the topOS.IS5 However, even the ideal of gendered topography carried hidden flaws: designed to ensure their purity and control their "wandering" sexual impulses, the ideally cloistered woman lay beyond the supervising public male gaze. Her rituals, then, were necessarily open to suspicion. It is important to see these various allegations of private magia and superstitio for what they are, and for what they aren't. In no case is the specific ritual or action itself inherently wrong: augury, prayer, and women's rituals were all respectable religious outlets. It was the private practice of these rituals that raised alarm bells. Yet "the private" in each instance was only problematic
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because it signaled a nefarious purpose. As Apuleius admitted, evil deeds demanded a secretive setting; the murmur, the household, the nighttime were thus necessitated by wicked intent. Minucius Felix' Caecilius agrees: "why make such efforts to obscure and conceal ... when things honorable always rejoice in publicity, while things guilty are secret?"r86 In other words, the private was problematic largely as a symptom, a clue that betrayed wrong intent. The implications of this idea are important: murmurs, households, and the twilight hours, that is, the actual spaces and moments of the private had no value per se. Indeed, how could they? Despite its careful legal definition, the Roman religious "private" had no qualities which were inherently objectionable because it had few definite qualities at all: fortune-tellers routinely plied their trade in forum and household alike, "magic" rituals were often indistinguishable from other personal and household rituals, and the "witch" and the pious matrona often wore the same face. The "private" was not inherent to any specific religious practice; it was rather an extrinsic qualifier, a detachable descriptive. Thus, at most, the private was a clue that might signal a crime but which, like a fingerprint or a mud stain, had no meaning or value outside the detective's notebook. In total then, the pejorative clamors around private religion fail to add up to a condemnation of the private per se because they failed to "stick" to any particular ritual or act, or even any particular private. r87 That is, the impropriety of the private in religion was an argument, not a rule, a polemical position that was accepted by all even as the licitness of the actual acts themselves might be debated. Thus, even in the few historical instances in which "the private" became grounds for accusations of religious impropriety, its very malleability as a rhetorical tool, its inseparability from the public, and the completely contextual, case-by-case basis on which it was condemned meant that it was never permanently or even significantly tarred with the brush of magia. COMMUNAL AND PRIVATE IN SECOND- AND THIRD-CENTURY CHRISTIANITY
IdentifYing attitudes to public and private in second- and third-century Christian thought is considerably trickier than with their polytheist colleagues. For one, Christians were an unofficial cult and thus had no "public" worship in the sense of a state-sanctioned civic cult. Although their membership seems to have grown and with it their presence in the cities and towns of the empire, as individuals and as a group their rituals fell under the privata sacra. Even when viewed from a Christian perspective, their particular emphasis on the individuals' relationship with and accountability before God might seem to abrogate public/private distinctions altogether: the Christian group or ecclesia could seem to be a collection of individual pious hearts all aimed separately towards a single God. Nonetheless, these theoretical barriers didn't prevent
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Christians from developing both collective and individuallfamilial rituals and from grappling with the issues they raised in particular ways. Christians never precisely articulated the relationships between the religious public and private, or more accurately, between collective and individual ritual, probably because the boundary between the two was theoretically nonexistent. And yet, unlike their polytheist neighbors who legally separated but practically ignored publici private boundaries, public and private became increasingly loaded categories for Christians, particularly as the notion of a single collective leader - the bishop - began to claim authority over all aspects of Christian ritual life. From Home to House Church: The Christian Collective in Flux
Like their polytheist and Jewish neighbors, Christian groups were heavily reliant on private patronage for worship space and for money to support their various charity projects. '88 These patrons were typically their communities' wealthier members, persons who, as a result of their largess, might play significant roles in the community's hierarchy. In the Pauline period, church leaders were typically the owners of the homes used for meetings. 189 Later, when we know the backgrounds of Christian bishops or presbyters, they are often people of some means, for instance the late second-century bishop of Rome, Zephyrinus, may have owned the land which would become the so-called Catacomb of Callistus, and Cyprian used his personal wealth and social standing to become Carthaginian Christians' greatest patron - and their bishop. 190 As Christianity began to attract members from society's upper echelons, probably beginning already in the early to mid second century, its patrons were increasingly those of some financial means. 191 Balancing the interests of patrons with those of the communal group thus required constant and attentive care, particularly as the community's spatial and hierarchical structures began to change ever more swiftly in the early years of the third century. 192 The community's worship spaces were likewise naturally owed to the generosity of patrons and in two centuries following Christ's death, Christian groups simply met in their patrons' homes in the dining and other reception spaces. However, beginning in the third century, Christians seem to have modified these spaces, typically still in private houses, to accommodate the rituals of eucharist and baptism, gradually severing the link between patron's home and communal worship space. '93 Only one clear, well-dated example of such a house-church has been fully excavated, that at Dura Europos, although hosts of others have been proposed (Fig. 9).'94 From this limited evidence it seems clear that like many other such cults, Christians focused their architectural energies on ritual articulation and furnishings, while architectural form was shaped by the preexisting space and assumed an ad-hoc, rather than a specific symbolic or formal character.'95 That is, the physical furnishings of community rituals lay nested in spaces that still shouted out their domestic origins. At Dura, a patron
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seems to have donated the entire ground floor of a moderately sized house to a communal meeting room and baptistery, arranged around the still-extant house courtyard. These radical alterations left intact a sizeable stairway to either the roof or a second story; upper-story spaces were central points of domestic life of the ancient Near East and thus it is possible that the patron's family or others continued to live in the upper stories, although this is not certain. '96 In any case, the Dura church demonstrates a fairly stark separation of cult from domestic activity, and at least in material terms, a material predominance of the communal over the familial-domestic. Thus, Christians, just like other nonofficial cults, were beginning to carve out increasingly prominent communal space from that of the home, even as the financial resources of increasingly wealthy private patrons made those communal projects possible. The separation of the communal from the domestic went hand in hand with the development of increasingly specialized and elaborate rituals, rituals that served to mark the Christian from the non-Christian and which bound together ever larger, more heterogeneous groups. The most important of such rituals, the eucharistic rite, seems to have developed from a shared communal meal with prayers and blessings into an elaborate set of prayers and readings that might include or be wholly separate from a meal. 197 Particular responsibilities and thus priestly offices developed around the ritual's various parts and with them a certain hierarchical apparatus, an apparatus which, given its complexity, might or might not always include the community's patron. The creation of communal ritual space separate from the domestic at Dura would seem to reflect this growing specialization as well as a potential rift between the patron's home and a new, priestly church. At the same time, the meal with ritual "punctuation" continued to be an important part of Christian communal life, occasions at which, like any Roman dominus, Christian patrons handed out charitable gifts of food and money, perhaps even blessings. 198 House and house-church, patrons and priests converged and separated during the late second and third century in a complex, shifting weave. 199 Christian groups' growing wealth and physical presence, increasing liturgical specialization and slow, concomitant separation of the communal from the familial coincided with a significant hierarchical development, one which had no real parallel in other unofficial cults and which would fundamentally shape the delicate balance between the collective and the private/patronal in Christian communities. This was the gradual emergence of a monoepiscopate, a single leader for all Christians in a given city.200 Christian groups had, from their origins, a diffuse and variegated hierarchy; persons described as patrons, prophets, apostles, teachers, presbyters, and bishops all appear in second-century sources as persons with various kinds of loosely defined authority.201 Individual groups within a city, centered on a specific house and/ or patron, seem to have existed loose in constellations, each looking to a presbyter or teacher, probably often the patron himself (or even herself), for
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9. Reconstruction, Dura Europos housechurch, third century A.D. (after White 1990, fig. IS).
liturgical and spiritual leadership. Although Ignatius of Antioch emphatically named the bishop as the apex of a hierarchical pyramid already in the late first century, this idea would gain widespread acceptance somewhat more slowly, by the mid second century in the East, and as late as the early third century in Rome. 202 This is not to say that bishops were distinct from patrons, for indeed, even in Cyprian's time, bishops continued to dispense their own largess as means of binding their community around them, and at least rhetorically modeled their position on that of the pateifamilias to a collective Christian family.20 3 By the third century, however, bishops claimed the right to be the community's exclusive patronlfather, in part through non-patronal criteria such as community-wide election. 204 The origins of the office, which has no clear parallel in the other unofficial sects, may lie in Christian communities' other unusual practice, namely their strong sense of trans-Iocal unity and spiritual interconnectedness. 205 The need to communicate with and support Christian centers in other parts of the empire, and thus for envoys to represent the community in those transactions, may have encouraged the development of a single community representative. A sense of theological parallelism, which
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sought the symmetry of a monarchical representative for a single god, may also have spurred the same development. 206 In any case, by the late-third century Christian bishops claimed not only sole representation of their community as spiritual descendents of the apostles, but also, increasingly, control over communal property and the liturgies that defined the community, particularly eucharistic and baptismal rites. 207 That is, bishops like Cornelius of Rome perceived themselves as, pars totalis, a synecdoche for the community itself: " ... there is one almighty God, one Christ the Lord whom we have confessed, and one Holy Spirit - in the Catholic Church there ought to be one bishop."208 And yet, the hierarchical fluidity of the Pauline age refused to yield quietly to new episcopal claims of unity. Teachers, charismatics, and presbyters continued to rival bishops' for community leadership. Novatian in Rome, Paul in Samosata, and the dozens of more minor figures, like Felicissimus in Carthage, who appear in patristic sources like so many mosquitoes vexing the local episcopate, frequently formed communities alongside those led by other bishops. 20 9 It has become increasingly clear, however, that rather than constituting a purposeful break-away from an already-constituted majority, these groups were simply continuing the more particulate, individualistic organization of an earlier age, but one now increasingly resisted by an episcopate bent on unity. In Rome, the debates between Hippolytus' school and its rival, that of Callistus, describes, even through its confused and fragmentary sources, a city jostling with individual churches and schools, but as yet no church writlarge. 2IO Indeed, Hippolytan outrage seems to have been directed at Callistus' claims to sole leadership, claims that may have begun with the latter's management of the large communal cemetery on the Via Appia. Christian communities' expanding community chest, coupled with a tendency to deploy their resources collectively rather than through individual patronage, seems to have raised the stakes of communal leadership and seems to have accompanied, if not fueled, the consolidation of episcopal power.2II
Christian Private Ritual At the same time Christian communities were weaning themselves from their domestic roots and developing firmer hierarchies and more elaborate rituals, Christian individuals and families were engaged in their own rituals. In the later second and third century, a flurry of evidence for such private rituals appears, typically in the form of manuals or cautionary advice penned by church leaders. Many of these rites were doubtless quite ancient, while others were developing in parallel with newer communal rites. All, however, were now subject to a watchful ecclesiastical gaze. Many of these rituals doubtless had Jewish origins. Domestic rites played a fundamental role in Jewish homes, one that may have increased during
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the diaspora and the transformation of collective "public" Judaism. 2I2 Major festivals, like Passover and Tabernacles, had major domestic components, while more frequent rites were practiced by the family as a unit, apart from the group. The Shema' (Deut. 6-4-5) and the Ten Commandments were recited morning and evening, accompanied by more. general prayers, while a "benediction" was said over the evening mea1. 2I] The most important home-based rituals, however, were those that clustered around the weekly Sabbath observances: lamps were lit on Friday evening to usher in the holy day; a fine meal was prepared beforehand; and prayers were uttered over a cup of wine at the start (qiddush) and finish (havdalah) of the holiday.21 4 Torah study and readings, however, seem to have mostly taken place in a proseuche, or comnmnal gathering place. Finally, ritual bathing, for purpose of purification, regularly punctuated home life: Jewish women took ritual baths after menstruation and childbearing, men who touched dead bodies or experienced wet dreams did likewise, and priests purified themselves before entering the temple or eating holy food. In wealthier homes, the rite was accommodated in one or more monumental basins or mikva'ot. 215 For Christians, like Jews, the most common personal ritual undertaken outside the community was, of course, private prayer. The Pauline letters urge Christians to pray "without ceasing," and "everywhere, lifting up holy hands without wrath or doubting. "216 Personal prayer was a constant accompaniment to Christian lives since the Jesus movement, but it is only at the turn of the third century that a flurry of prayer manuals appeared to guide these rites. Tertullian, Origen, and Cyprian all advised on the proper types, method, and times of private prayer.217 Both Tertullian and the Apostolic Tradition, a fourth-century compilation of earlier material, recommended what seems a very rigorous schedule of prayer at the third, sixth, and ninth hours of the day, as well as at twilight and dawn, and before meals. 2I8 The form of these recommended prayers likewise varied from a simple recitation of the Lord's Prayer to readings from the Scriptures. 219 The number of these treatises, their length and detail all attest to not only the importance of private prayer in Christian lives, but also bishops' and teachers' increasing role in formalizing and regularizing it. Prayer, as Cyprian went so far to insist, should not be about the self, but the group: "For our prayer is public and common; and when we pray, we pray not for one but for the whole people, because we the whole people are one."220 Significantly, the space of prayer was of particular concern. Church authorities wrestled between the dictates in Matthew 6 that order the faithful to " ... go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret," and the dangers that such private spaces might present. 221 Origen recommended that a particular room in the house should be chosen, one free from noise and distractions, and presumably, one that would be used repeatedly for the same purposes. 222 Tertullian, following Matthew, urged the faithful to pray in the far recesses of the house, for even in the house's "secret chambers
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[in abditum]" God would hear their prayers.223 This "secret chamber" was probably very often a sleeping chamber, and yet it was these very rooms that might pollute the prayer act. 224 Origen explicitly states that the sexual act, even when committed within the bounds of marriage, might render such rooms less than ideal for prayer. 225 Even the presence of an unbaptized or pagan spouse, asleep in the bed while the devout Christian utters his nighttime prayers nearby, might render prayer ineffective. 226 This widely held notion that a room accumulated layers of moral detritus through its various functions points to a certain distrust of domestic space for ritual. As modern archaeology has made clear, ancient homes, particularly those of the less-than-wealthy, lacked most of the functional delimiters of modern homes: sleeping, cooking, praying, and partying might take place in the same room, depending on need. 227 Ritual purity was hard to maintain and when the most worrisome pollutant was moral rather than physical, family life and Christian prayer could prove difficult to mesh. It is no wonder, then, that even Origen ultimately found the home to be simply too dangerous for efficacious prayer, urging the faithful instead towards the protective space of the collective group.228 In addition to private prayer, Christians continued the Jewish rite oflamplighting.229 While the Apostolic Tradition and Tertullian both describe lamp lighting as part of the rites of the collective meal, Tertullian also describes a more private rite, when at the daily lighting of the home's lamps Christians would cross themselves. 230 Cyprian goes further, urging a private evening prayer at the dimming of the light, and while he makes no mention oflamps, the wording strongly echoes that of later lamp-lighting rituals calling upon Christ to "return the light. "23 I In its daily practice, these rituals were akin to the rites in polytheist homes, in which eventide was marked by the lighting of "the beloved lamps" and short greetings to Sol and other deities. 232 Indeed, like the Christians, polytheist domestic lamp lighting was paralleled by similar rituals in the collective spaces of temples and unofficial cult rooms. 233 The origins of the rituals, whether Jewish or Christian, are less important than their ubiquity, and Christian homes would have sparkled with the ritual lamps of evening alongside their pagan and Jewish neighbors. Other Christian domestic rituals were more distinctive and seem to have developed in parallel with the cult's increasingly elaborate collective rites. The most notable of these was the reservation and consumption of the reserved sacrament at mealtimes. 234 In his treatise on the Lord's Prayer, Tertullian berates those who are fasting for additionally abstaining from the daily, private eucharist. He asks, "Does then the eucharist cancel a devout service to God? Or does it rather bind us closer to God? Will not your station be more ceremonious if you have also stood at God's altar? By accepting the Lord's body and reserving it, both things are safe, your partaking of the sacrifice and your performance of your duty."2 35 The phrase "accepto corpore Domini
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et reservato," indicates that Christians reserved some of the eucharistic bread they received at Sunday services for consumption at other times. The reserved sacrament seems, in almost all cases, to have been the bread only, and although the ritual is not described in detail, it seems to have consisted of simply a short prayer. Justin Martyr, the Apostolic Tradition and Novatian also mention the practice in terms that suggest it was customary in the North African and Roman churches, if not universally.2 36 Many liturgists have assumed, based on the later manifestations of this practice, that the reserved sacrament was given only to the sick, as described by Justin Martyr,237 or reserved for the last rites, called the viaticum. 238 However, the numerous descriptions of daily communion, from Tertullian's description of a Christian wife consuming the sacrament before each meal, to the Apostolic Tradition's inclusion of the reserved eucharist as part of the daily round of prayers, indicate that the role of the reserved sacrament was much greater. 239 As Gregory Dix once noted, the average pre-Nicene Christian probably took many more communions from his or her own hand, in the confines of the home, than he or she did from the single eucharistic mass offered during the week. 240 In addition to reserving the sacrament consecrated at a communal ceremony, third-century Christians may also have taken a more active role in consecrating bread and wine at their own meals. In addition to recommendations on collective services attended by bishops, both the Didache and the Apostolic Tradition describe what seem to be everyday private meals at which eucharistic prayers benediction was offered. 241 In both cases, the distinction between everyday private meals, meals presided over by bishops and presbyters, and a separate eucharistic rite is a fine one indeed. For everyday meals, presumably in the context of the home, the Apostolic Tradition makes the following recommendations: Let every faithful [person] take care to receive the eucharist before he tastes anything else ... Let everyone take care that an unbeliever does not taste of the eucharist, nor a mouse, or any other animal, nor that any of it falls and is lost. For the body of Christ is to be eaten by believers and not to be despised. For blessing [the cup] in the name of God, you received [it], as the antitype of the blood of Christ. Therefore refrain from pouring out any, as if you despised [it], so that an alien spirit may not lick it up .... 242 Although the passage's meaning is somewhat obscure, it seems the eucharistic bread used here is reserved, while the cup is consecrated by the individual. Even the more elaborate communal ritual described earlier in the same text has individual participants "blessing" their own cups, while the bread is blessed by the bishops.243 Scholars have rightly pointed to the palimpsestical nature of both the Didache and the Apostolic Tradition and dismissed the references to meals as relics of earlier redactions. However, as Andrew McGowan has persuasively
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argued, the meal with ritual components continued to form a central part of Christian life long after the development of a separate eucharistic rite, and eucharists and meals were often combined, both in full communal gettogethers and more private functions. 244 Participants were no mere bystanders in these meals but had their own personal ritual roles of consecration; the injunctions to protect the blessed cup from "alien spirits" suggests it was considered as truly consecrated as a cup blessed by a bishop. At the same time, in eating the eucharist reserved from a communal ceremony at these meals, Christians interwove the age-old tradition of family ritual meals with the newer trend of episcopally controlled eucharistic rites. The invisible bonds of community were made physical in the eucharist, and reaffirmed before each meal whether with the group or in the privacy of the home.
Private and Collective Ritual in Christian Thought The complex relationships between individual and collective ritual evinced in Apostolic Tradition are but a taste of what was an ancient and deep-seated Christian dilemma: how were the piety of the individual and families to be reconciled with that of the Christian collective? In the pages of the synoptic gospels, in the so-called Gnostic texts, and in the apostolic letters and apocryphal acts, early Christians argued vociferously about the role of individuals and families in the Christian community. 245 Potent anti-family images appeared in the synoptic gospels, where Andrew, Peter, James, and John abandoned their families to follow Christ, and Christ ordered his disciples that each must " ... hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters. "246 This model was continued in early martyrologies like that of Per pe tu a, in which the martyr turns a deaf ear to her father's pleas as she marches off to purposeful death, and in the apocryphal acts, where apostles like Andrew appeared, like Christ of Matthew 4.18-22, as the consummate home-wrecker.247 These sources jostled uncomfortably with the dictates in Genesis 1.28 to "be fruitful and multiply" and in Exodus 20.12 to "honor your father and your mother." The post-Pauline epistles further extended these domestic images, insisting on husbands and fathers as authority figures and on the strength of the marriage bond not only as the foundation of the Christian community, but as its synecdoche. 248 Later thinkers, like Clement of Rome and Clement of Alexandria emphasized these pro-family Old Testament and Pauline texts, the latter reading them together as a one-two punch, the successive commands of the same God whose cumulative intent forced an alternative meaning onto even the radically anti-family Luke 14.26 and the lukewarm approval of marriage in same Pauline texts. 249 None of these exegetical debates should be read as straightforward attempts to transform the family lives ofChristians. 250 As scholarship on the apocryphal
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acts as shown, debating the family by denigrating the conjugal bond in favor of apostolic potestas was often a means of marking out boundaries, between the aristocratic conjugalJamilia and the poor apostolic community, or between Roman civic authority and a revolutionary Christian alternative. 25I Similarly, Clement's pro-family exegesis was constructed in order to distinguish his own community from competing local groups of so-called "Gnostics."25 2 Rather, what is most noteworthy in these texts is the power of familial/collective ideologies to perform all kinds of rhetorical work. The family/collective juxtaposition formed one of the most persistent lenses Christians used to think about themselves and the world, almost certainly because of their own compound history as a religion of familial groups and of non-fainilial, apostolic hierarchies. 253 In other words, second- and third-century Christian exegesis continued a tendency to read some of the faith's central preoccupations insider versus outsider, wealth and poverty, the world and the spirit - through the bifurcated lens ofJam ilia and ecclesia. The individual, the family, and the collective thus saturated the early Christian thought-world as discursive categories of urgent importance. The same desire to parse and valuate the familial and the collective appears in more muted form in the writings on private rituals. Many descriptions of these rituals appear in manuals written by either bishops or other church leaders, whose aim was to guide and shape individual and small-group piety. Tertullian and Origen particularly encouraged home-based ritual both as a means of deepening one's faith and as a thread that would bind individual to community in the hours and days when the community as a whole did not meet. 254 At the same time, almost every description is accompanied by a certain anxiety and concomitant cautions. Pollution seems to be the overriding concern, either pollution of the rite itself or of the community as a whole. As quoted at this chapter's beginning, N ovatian lamented the fate of the eucharistic bread, polluted by being carried through a red-light district and even to the games of the amphitheater. 255 The Apostolic Tradition likewise cautions that eucharists used in home-based meals should be carefully guarded, and even the crumbs should be protected again the fouling presence of mice. 256 Outside the watchful eye of the community and its bishops, the eucharist and its rituals could be polluted in all matter of ways. Even worse, in the messy, worldly space of the home, the marriage bed or the dining room, the seams of the Christian community might be split, allowing the saeculum to seep in and pollute the whole group. Thus, although Tertullian encouraged eucharistic reservation in one treatise, in another he worried about what affect the ritual would have in mixed-marriage households: women married to pagans were, in eating their eucharist before meals, "casting pearls before swine." In performing the rite before the unworthy and the uninitiated, these women might perpetuate pagan suspicions of the rite (it was rumored to
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be human flesh), and thus jeopardize both their marriages and the community at large. 257 Pagans or the unbaptized might also be among the guests at ritual meals, polluting the blessings of the assembled. 258 In the privacy of the home, church leaders could not even prevent lapsed Christians from procuring the reserved sacrament: Cyprian warns of such a lapsa who kept a piece of the bread in a special box and when she tried to consume it, it attacked her with flame. 259 As the eucharist evolved its own specific ritual trappings and became in the process a kind of magical substance, it became necessary to fence it in, to protect it from profanation, indeed, from even profane space. 260 To profane the eucharist was to pollute the community, allowing pagans, bloodlust, or sexual desire to penetrate the boundaries separating community from saeculum. However pious their intentions, families and individuals might, through their private rituals, inadvertently pollute the collective and in so doing bring down God's wrath. 261 Concerns about pollution ran deep in third-century Christian communities as their membership expanded. 262 Increasingly, it was the mono episcopate and its clergy who acted as communal sentries, monitoring the community's sacramental boundaries, claiming a monopoly over ritual acts and, with the construction of house-churches, partitioning those rituals into specifically designated liturgical spaces. The anxious murmurs that accrued around private rituals suggest that bishops began to regard their own watchful eyes and the collective gathering as the only reliable bulwarks against communal pollution. Domestic space was thus left in something of a moral lurch: it remained the site of many church rituals and communal meals, and yet it lay increasingly apart from the collective and its episcopal watchdogs. The slow divorce of home and patron from church and bishop exacerbated the split, leading the third-century Christian home and its concomitant private in an ideological quandary. The private, in other words, had become somewhat suspect.
CONCLUSIONS: PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN POLYTHEIST AND CHRISTIAN THOUGHT
The purpose of this chapter was to examine pagan and Christian attitudes to the categories of public and private and interrogate them for social meaning. As an effort to "compare" paganism and Christianity, it stands in a long, if not always successful, line of attempts to resituate Christians into a Greco-Roman social matrix. 263 In other ways, this brief survey has tried to do something rather different. Recent scholarship has been adept at excavating the various social structures that Christianity shared with other unofficial cults: a reliance on patronage, domestic cult spaces, and ritual meals. That is, this scholarship has attempted to demonstrate Christianity's shared origins in a Greco-roman "private."264 The evidence adduced here, however, fromjurists and bishops to
CONCLUSIONS
graffiti and household shrines, suggests that the apparent "sameness" of houses, families and patrons in the religions of late antiquity actually masks a radically different ideology of that private and its concomitant public or collective. 265 The pagan jurists' careful distinctions between public and private cult were like a picket fence, designed to mark out rituals for the benefit of the Roman state from a vast forest of private action. Like a picket fence, however, these legal distinctions were better at signaling boundaries than actually keeping things out. The private was everywhere, in the home, the forum and the temple, and its very ubiquity left it, despite the legalese, nearly indistinguishable from its public counterpart. The real-world overlap between these legally distinct categories was largely a result of the central place of family arid patronage ties in almost every aspect of religious life. This entanglement of public and private, family and cult group, and state and individual left only the narrowest circumstances in which rituals might be condemned for their "privacy." Those cases were judged less by any properties inherent to the private, for as Apuleius had slyly noted, such properties were largely nonexistent. Rather, it was the evil intent of the ritual that was actually wrong, and it was this intent that motivated the private context of its performance. The private might thus be used as a clue that implicated wrong-doing, but it had no value in and of itself. Thus even in the context of angry publici private polemic, the pagan religious private was, in some sense, a neutral category. For third-century Christians, on the other hand, the ritual private occupied a wholly different conceptual place. While paganism adopted a legally precise but practically fluid attitude to public and private, the development of episcopally centered rituals and hierarchies in Christian communities were hardening the categories of homelfamily and communal church. The collective was increasingly associated with the episcopal leadership, who claimed authority over all ritual activities and thus guardianship over the community's boundaries. Although families and family based patronage structures continued to be central to the church's organization, this episcopal/collective was, at least notionally, slowly detaching itself from these older structures, defining itself as the privileged site of Christian practice. The homelfamily was thus increasingly defined as a very different, separate kind of place. This separation was accompanied by a concomitant moral valuation. Private, home-based rituals, although generally encouraged, now nonetheless represented potential sources of pollution, weak points in the sacramental levees that protected an increasingly heterogeneous community from the floodwaters of a non-Christian world. The private actually had the ability to render ritual impure: it was the bedroom's sexuality or the family's tangled social bonds that presented the polluting threat, transforming a ritual which was celebrated in collective circumstances into a potential moral contagion. In other words, instead of a detachable and thus neutral category, the private began to assume
59
AN EMPIRE OF FAMILY AND FRIENDS: PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RELIGIONS
its own intrinsic moral character. The hardening of the categories of individual and collective simultaneously led to a valuation of these same categories, a hierarchization in which the communal was often preferred to the private. These transformations of the third century, however fundamental, produced only mild tremors in the public/private debate. It was only with the reign of Constantine and his successors and the creation of a fiscally corporate, publicly supported church, that the chasms between these ideological categories would really open. The creation of a public church would also eventually carry with it a flood of new converts, particularly from the newly expanded senatorial classes. Many of these persons, raised and schooled in a pagan world, would bring with them their very different religious habits, ones in which distinctions between public and private religious activities were largely non-existent. It is the collision of these two thought-worlds - the pagan religions of friends and family and a Christianity of increasingly rigid public/private boundaries - that is the subject of the following chapters.
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CHAPTER 2
Two Christian Capitals: Private Worship in Rome and Constantinople
O
n a sweltering August night around 40 5, the Christians of Rome marched out of the city to the Campo Verano and in a massive funerary basilica, assembled for the vigil of the martyr Lawrence. I The conversion of the emperor Constantine almost a century earlier had brought their community imperial recognition, a certain amount of wealth and, at least in the great cemeteries that ringed the city, a new monumental public presence. For the once-obscure Palestinian cult, this journey along the Via Tiburtina must have seemed something of a triumph. 2 Yet not all Christians partook of the spectacle. Conspicuously absent was Melania, of the great Valerii family, who was at this moment heavy with her second child. 3 Melania's condition kept her at home this festal night, where she instead prayed in a domestic church, perhaps set inside the family's Caelian Hill mansion. Home ritual would have come naturally to her, a child of an old Roman family in which the habits of domestic cult were deeply engrained: her grandfather was said to be learned in ancient household rituals, while on her father's estates, peasants sacrificed the first fruits to the gods in rustic shrines. 4 Nor was Melania's the only family to seek the divine at home: from a domestic relic shrine belonging to her neighbors on the Caelian to the murmured prayers rising from a mansion on the nearby Aventine, Christian homes, no less their pagan neighbors', rang with the sound of domestic rites. 5 Beyond the walls of Lawrence's basilica lay a whole constellation of pious, and often powerful, households. This snapshot of later fourth-century Christian life is not found in any of the modern scholarly histories of Christian Rome or in those of its sister capital, Constantinople. Like synecdoches for the empire itself, the history of these capital cities has been the history of an ascendant, imperially sponsored
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Christian public. An older scholarship went so far as to label these cIties overnight Christian wonders, complete with a network of public churches, a strong episcopate, and a burgeoning calendar of Christian festivals within a generation after Constantine's death. 6 While more recent assessments describe a more subdued pace of change, the tale of these two cities remains that of a public adventus, the slow march of an ecclesiastical institution over an irrevocably changed urban landscape. 7 This chapter adopts its title from one of the greatest and most enduring of these modern histories. 8 It is not intended to replace it or any of its sister narratives, but rather to be a codicil to them. Using two of the empire's capitals as case studies, its purpose is to peer beyond the new basilicas and public processions to the role played by private religiosity in cities during the century after the Peace of the Church. While Rome and Constantinople experienced radically different Christian histories both before and after the Council of Nicea, both cities, it will be argued, were strongly, even formatively impacted by privately sponsored worship and Christian aristocratic status economies. 9 In Rome, age-old centripetal forces including families and neighborhood groups forced Rome's bishops to share liturgical and proprietary rights with private individuals or other extra-episcopal groups. The shadowy tituli, or endowed churches, were born of this fractured environment and formed a financial compromise between private donors and the episcopate. Similarly, the slow pace of fourth-century church-building meant that it was the domestic sphere, and the house-churches of old, that continued to host much everyday Christian liturgy. By the later half of the fourth century, a new wave of Christian aristocrats like Melania, possibly inspired by Constantine's own palace church, was constructing domestic churches within their mansions and engaging in increasingly complex domestic liturgies. Rome's elite houses also nurtured the city's first intramural relic cults and its first ascetic communities. Constantinople's Christian history departed from very different origins, a small pre-Nicene community whose own history was largely rewritten by the installation of an imperial capital and the imperial court. Constantinopolitan aristocrats embraced private church building even more so than their Roman colleagues and it was private churches, many in domestic contexts, which dominated the urban and suburban landscape. Here, too, monasticism expanded under private patronage and beneath domestic roofs as a cacophony of eastern ascetic movements jostled against one another, and against the Constantinopolitan bishop, to lay claim to the monies and private churches of wealthy aristocrats. The flourishing of private cult in both these cities represented not simply a "Christianization" of its elite: rather, it revealed the complex, potentially agonistic relationship between the ancient notions of religiosity described in Chapter I, frequently constructed around household hierarchies and patronage networks, and those of growing episcopates. Domestic churches and episcopal
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interests might coincide and provide mutual support, or like ships that pass in the night, they might simply ignore one another. The very different tales of these two cities reveal the complexity of the problem: in Rome, ancient house-based communities and new, independently minded elites observed a tension-filled entente with an old, but still insecure episcopate. In Constantinople, a youthful episcopate staffed by outsiders had no choice but to support private churches and the elite patrons who held the real reigns of religious power. In order to narrate the complex role played by private church space in these cities, this chapter examines a broader range of "privates" than does the rest of this book. The overwhelming importance of ownership and property control in these, the wealthiest of the empire's cities, is unfortunately matched by an equally glaring absence of archaeological evidence that would narrow the search for the proprietary in the domestic sphere. The impact of families and individuals is thus sought in a variety of non-domestic places - in property endowments and in neighborhood and/ or family churches, as well as in homes. The emperor's power as trendsetter in the capitals also makes it essential to consider imperial projects, particularly the private of the imperial tomb and the imperial palace. This is not meant to suggest that the imperial palace represented the same kind of "private" as the domus or rural estate of the lay aristocrat. Rather, the sui generis projects of the Christian emperors served as influential models for urban elites, inspiring their own house-based piety.
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Pre- Constantinian Realities For most histories of Christian Rome, Constantine's reign marks an episodic boundary.lo Given the centrality of Rome in the emperor's epiphany at the Milvian Bridge and his subsequent endowment of its churches, this periodization seems natural. However, while the emperor doubtless arrayed Christian Rome in its first public finery, its workaday dress remained, in certain respects, largely unchanged. That is, in assuming a Constantinian "revolution" we are in danger of forgetting just how much Rome of the fourth century resembled Rome of the third. I I The following narrative thus departs from third-century moorings, and therefore a basic sketch of pre-Constantinian Rome is a necessary prelude. Rome's Christian community was perhaps most notable for its enormous diversity: from the geographic enclaves who celebrated Easter on different days, to the scholarly circles gathered around teachers like Justin or Hippolytus, Rome collected a fair sampling of the empire's many Christianities, shaped as much by their immigrant status, neighborhood, or individual teachers as by their shared Christian beliefs.I2 Thus, while Rome's third-century
TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
Christian population was one of the largest in the empire, it was also among the most heterogeneous and fractured. I3 The monoepiscopate was accepted relatively late in Rome; whether it was Victor (189-99) or Pontian (230-5) who claimed the honor, even notional centralized power came significantly later here than in its sister cities in the East, doubtless a result of the city's particularly heterogeneous Christian make-up.I4 Whether one sees the early third-century contest between bishop Callistus and rival Hippolytus as the last stages of a centralizing impetus or as a disciplinary debate, Hippolytus' writings clearly describe a variety ofpowerful independent Christian groups. IS A quarter century later, Novatian's success in forming an alternative to Cornelius' episcopate, drawing around him like-minded rigorists opposed to an easy reconciliation of the lapsed, found the same centripetal impulses at work. 16 Yet just as notable, perhaps, is the ease with which Novatian's followers were later enfolded back into Cornelius' community, some without imposed penance or confession. I7 Bishop Stephen's refusal to require rebaptism for lapsed or schismatic Christians may also indicate a similar acceptance of multiple communions, and thus multiple communities, within a single episcopal baptism. 18 That is, the heterogeneity of Rome's Christian community may have produced particular ecclesiologies that sought compromise, a balance between the small sub-communities defined by geography, family, and doctrine, and the broader, episcopally defined church. 19 The church's treasury was likewise probably the product of a careful balancing act. It seems clear now that while Christian groups were technically never legal collegia religionis causa, collective property ownership did not require state approval, and the Christian church, like other private cults, legally held land and property as a corporate body simply through the act of purchase. 20 From the description ofCallistus as "administrator" of a coemeterium on the Via Appia to the international fame of its charity efforts, Rome's church appears to have collectively owned and managed sizable properties. 2I At the same time, however, this collective continued to rely heavily on private property that remained in private hands; the series of early catacombs bearing what seem to be the names of their owners and founders (e.g. the catacombs of Priscilla and Domitilla) and the continued importance of private homes and other private spaces for regular Christian meetings find both episcopal endeavors and individual sub-communities controlled by private individuals. 22 The Peace of the Church in 312 clearly brought certain changes to this complex, fractious situation. By declaring the church an official corpus, its de facto ability to own property was sealed by imperial approvaP3 Bishops, as leaders of individual conventicula, were implicitly recognized as the leaders of this new corporate body and it was to the bishop Sylvester that Constantine directed his donations to the Roman church. 24 Indeed, the law further stipulated that all property confiscated from the corpora of Christians was to be returned to the bishops. While the fate of private property is never explicitly spelled out, an
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aside in the Liher Pontificalis indicates that private holdings often wound up in episcopal or imperial hands rather than returned to their individual owners.25 At least in principal, then, this law not only provided the church with legal footing and its first big influx of resources, but also reinforced the power of an often shaky episcopate, possibly at the expense of its private owner/ members. And yet, it should not be imagined that legal status and a certain economic prosperity could erase Rome's earlier fractious history, or easily reform its complex socio-economic structure around a newly flush episcopate. While the bishops of Rome may have wished that Constantine's conversion "severed [the] immemorial nexus of religious authority, social status, and political power,"26 nothing could have been farther from the messier reality. As Charles Pietri long ago noted, Constantine's donations to the Roman church, while sizable relative to its current pocketbook, were small compared to the coffers of wealthy Roman aristocrats who would eventually join the church. 27 Neither could the monetary and legal support of Rome's bishops eliminate the many centripetal forces - powerful neighborhood and family based fellowships, a far-flung liturgical apparatus, and an extraordinary variety of doctrinally based groups - that continued to spin out of easy episcopal control. 28 One of this study's primary assumptions is that these third-century realities continued to shape Roman Christianity throughout the fourth century. Indeed, rather than erasing Rome's particulate qualities, Constantine's conversion may have deepened them, as Rome's aristocrats and their desperately needed wealth were added to this contentious mix.
The Roman tituli The history the Christian "private" in Rome has for the most part been limited to a discussion of the Roman tituli, the Christian foundations which constituted the majority of the city's intramural churches (Fig. 10). The tituli are one of those subjects over which the amount of scholarly ink spilled seems inversely proportional to actual facts known. As applied in Christian contexts, the term, and thus the institution, seems to have existed only in the city of Rome. An older scholarship assumed, largely on the basis of the Liher Pontificalis, that the tituli were Rome's pre-Nicene house-churches, established in private homes and endowed by private persons whose names, such as Pudentia, Pammachius, and Equitus, they eventually carried. 29 A systematic historiographic wrecking ball has undercut most of these assumptions, and most scholars now agree that the titulus was a post-Constantinian phenomenon. 30 What exactly the term meant, however, remains a matter of debate. It is first important to recognize that the term "titulus" was a living one and as such, changed its meaning over time: its later fifth- and sixth-century uses should thus be carefully untangled from the meager fourth- and early
TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
fifth-century evidence. 3I Fifth- and sixth-century sources, such as Libel' Pontificalis' pre-Constantinian vitae, church councils, and the Roman martyr tales, describe the tituli as belonging to an episcopally controlled, semi-diocesan system that developed from the earliest, pre-Nicene house churchesY Fourthand early fifth-century evidence, such as the practice of sharing consecrated bread between bishop and tituli (called the jermentum) , suggests a far looser hierarchy between bishops and titular presbyters, and little or no evidence of pre-Nicene origins. 33 By the later fifth and sixth centuries, then, the term "titulus" was bound up with the increasing systematization of the city's clergy and a legitimization of this clerical order through reference to a mythic preNicene past. 34 Only careful attention to the sources' date, function, and bias can separate these later tituli from their fourth-century predecessors. What, then, did the word "titulus" mean to fourth-century Romans?35 In current usage, titulus could mean an inscription, an appellation of honor, a cause, and, more specifically in Roman property law, a cause by which property was acquired, the causa adquirendi or causa traditionis where the cause could be indicated by a noun in the genitive. 36 In fourth- and fifth-century Christian contexts, the term appears most frequently on inscriptions and church council lists to describe the affiliation of clergy, for example the presbyter tituli byzanti or a lector tituli Fasciole. 37 A titulus here is clearly a church building or institution of some kind, but the terse language of the gravestone or list provides no further specifics. Some few documents, particularly the more reliable sections of Libel' Pontificalis seemingly drawn from fourth-century documentation, are more expansive. 38 Here the term appears most frequently in the context of donation and foundation, that is, circumstances of property transfer. It is significant in this regard that the term "titulus" only appears in Christian contexts in the mid to late fourth century, that is, after the Church had become a legally approved corporate entity for the purposes of property ownership and inheritance. 39 Thus, the term's proprietary meanings should be considered central, although not exclusive, to its definition. In the later fourth- and early fifth-century vitae of the Libel' Pontificalis, "titulus" is frequently accompanied by the name of the donor (in the genitive) who funded it, for example the titulus Equitus and the titulus Sylvestri, both used to describe a foundation endowed by Sylvester and perhaps previously by Equitus. 40 In both cases the Libel' Pontificalis lists properties given to support the foundation, patrimony which seems to comprise the titulus itself. Thus, in these instances, the term "titulus" plus a donor's name in the genitive signals a gift supported by property and the origin/donor of that gift, respectively. Thus, in its most precise meaning, the term "titulus" seems to be specifically used to describe donated property and when combined with its genitive name, seems to be a loose application of the legal causa adquirendi where cause is defined by the personal origin of the donationY In Roman law the term is typically used by acquirers of property to indicate the legality of their acquisition, and
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• Tituli Titulus Lucinae
2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22
Titulus Cyriaci Titulus Marcelli Titulus Vestinae Titulus Pudentis Titulus Damasi Titulus Marci Titulus Eudoxiae Titulus Equiti Titulus Praxedis Trtulus Eusebii Titulus luli et Callisti Titulus S. Chrysogoni Titulus Anastasiae Titulus Aemilianae Titulus Clementis Titulus Nicomendis Titulus S. Sabinae Titulus Byzantis Titulus Priscae Titulus Fasciolae Titulus Crescentianae
thus the definition can be further expanded to mean a gift legally originating from a person. 42 The church which is typically built with these gifts is mentioned separately from the titulus, that is, the titulus and the basilica do not seem to be synonymous terms. For instance, Damasus is said to have founded a titulus, ("Hic constituit titulum ... ") associated with which was a basilica, (" ... in urbe Roma basilicam quem ipse construxit.").43 Vestina likewise had a basilica dedicated to saints Gervasius and Protasius (" ... quae fernina suprascripta testamenti paginam sic ordinavit ut basilica sanctorum martyrum ex ornamentis et margaritas construeretur ... ") to which, when it was finished was given a titulus ("Et constructam usque ad perfectum basilicam ... in quo titulum Romanum constituit."). 44 Some have taken this disparity to mean that a titulus was a community center or other structure set near or within the church, but the earlier texts never provide any indication that a titulus was a separate physical structure. 45 Indeed, the verbs "facere" or "construere" are consistently
10. Map, fourthand fifth-century tituli of Rome (including roads and major monuments).
TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
used to describe the building of the church, while the more nebulous "constituere" describes the establishment of the titulus. 46 In both of these cases, "titulus" seems to indicate the donation and its concomitant property, which were technically distinct from the buildings resultant from that gift. One side-effect of this division between gift and its result was a variety of available names for the actual churches in question; they might be named for the donor from whose gift they were built, or they might be named for the saints in whose name the gift was made. 47 The church built by Vestina is described in the Liber Pontificalis as the "basilica sanctorum Gervasi et Protasi," but appears elsewhere as the "titulus Vestinae."4 8 The titulus given by Peter, a cleric from Illyria, seems to have only ever been known as the "titulus" or the "basilica sanctae Sabinae," in which Sabina is either a saint or previous donor.49 Other titular churches were called after their neighborhood or earlier proprietors. Thus, the titular names which appear in inscriptional evidence or conciliar lists, indeed, in any context other than the donation itself, may not reflect the name of the donor at all, but any of these other available names. Just so, the term "titulus" might be used to stand for the church building specifically. This locutional confusion was a natural consequence of a legal terminology entering everyday discourse and the concomitant muddying of the distinct categories of donation, donor, and result of the donation. The question remains, however, who actually administered this property? How was it specifically directed to support the donor's projects? Given the absence of any evidence for privately maintained titular foundations, the defacto administrator was doubtless the bishop who oversaw the whole of the church's patrimony. 50 For Vestina and others who endowed their tituli through their wills, the bishop seems to have been envisioned as an executor, carrying out the donor's final wishes and making sure the property funded its assigned projects. It is unlikely, however, that Vestina or even cleric-donors like Damasus were simply contributors to the general church kittyY In proclaiming the legitimacy of a property transfer, the term "titulus" also proclaimed its particular origins through the donor's name and by association, the particular intentions, the causa, which motivated it. The term was thus Janus-faced, reflecting both the legality of the church's acquisitions AND the desires of specific donors, whose largess was so central to a still only modestly endowed church. Constantine's own donations, donations which in Rome were exclusively drawn from his private funds, were specified for various uses, not placed into general church use, and from the language of Vestina's donation and a later titulus donated by Valila, it seems clear that other titulus endowments included property specially earmarked for pre-assigned purposes. 52 While these donors may not have been able to force their will upon episcopal administrators after the fact, the purpose of titular endowments was likely to signal their intent at the outset.
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The real agents of a donor's desires may well have been the tituli's presbyters, who, in some cases, were also the donors themselves. 53 Presbyters like Ilicus, Leopardus, and Maximus of the titulus Pudentiana or Philip of the titulus Apostolorum are mentioned prominently as supervisors and contributors to church building projects, while Vestina's legacy specified that her titular basilica was to be built by the presbyters Ursicinus and Leopardus and the deacon Livianus, to whom the maintenance of the cemetery of Saint Agnes was also entrusted. 54 Although it is of limited value for elucidating the fourth-century situation, a 502 synod prohibited titular presbyters from selling church property, suggesting they had been accustomed to do so and were playing a major role in managing titular possessions. 55 Thus, while the patrimony provided to tituli was technically owned by the church as a whole with the bishop acting as its executor, the tituli's presbyters may have been the de facto bosses, pulling what were theoretically collective assets more securely into their community's own particular orbit. 56 The titulus, then, should probably best be imagined as a creative compromise between episcopate and local communities. As a legally donated gift made to the episcopate, it admitted the right of the bishop to control all church property. At the same time, the term marked the origin of the gift through its donor or dedicated saint; in doing so it signaled a personal intent, the personal or dedicatory "cause" of the gift. The validity of the donation was inextricably bound to the intent of the donor, a fact made manifest by the specific assignment of property to support the specific titular foundation. 57 Our next question must be why this peculiar, even cumbersome system was employed in Rome, and seemingly only in Rome? If, as seems likely, the tituli were brought into use some time after the Peace of the Church, the answer must lie in both the pre-Nicene conditions which shaped its communities, and the expectations of its newer elite converts. Rome's Christian communities, as has been noted above, were Janus-faced: on the one hand, they had for at least a century regarded themselves as part of "the Church of Rome," represented and ruled by their duly elected bishop. As Christians drawn from every ethnicity, doctrinal persuasion, and socio-economic class, they also formed discrete, more inward-looking groups based on neighborhood, origins, exegetical leanings, and other factors. 58 The presbyter who served the "fuller's community," the lector associated with the Velabrum neighborhood, the clustered burials of those who shared a neighborhood church, all describe a world in which being a Christian meant belonging to a tight cadre of intimates. 59 The individualistic nature of titular endowments similarly reflected those cellular qualities, as donors drawn from these communities would first look to family, neighborhood, and exegetical group, and to the episcopate second. Even a bishop like Damasus poured his modest fortunes into a titulus to support his family's neighborhood church. 60
TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
The use of titular endowments became common only in the third quarter of the fourth century, a time when the middling-rich joined the church in ever greater numbers.61 The bureaucrats, lower-level clarissimi, and middle-class clergy who constituted the "Christian aristocracy" of the later fourth century brought with them the euergetistic expectations of the arriviste classes, namely that giving should be loud, it should produce social results, and it should be carried out according to donors' wishes. 62 While the gentry of smaller Italian towns like Aquileia may have been content with anonymous donations to the general church kitty (a "discrete" expression of Christianity, as one author has nicely put it), giving for Roman elites was necessarily bound up with self- and familial aggrandizement. Titular endowments were thus designed to perpetuate and publicize the bond between elite donor and their gift. 63 Roman bishops thus faced a unique challenge: encouraging the donations of elites meant guaranteeing those elites public exposure and certain autonomy.6 4 Not coincidentally, titular endowments seem to have flourished under Damasus, renowned and reviled for his fundraising among aristocrats. Damasus is usually credited with the first successful fundraising efforts among the new Christian elite, but the truth is somewhat more complicated. To bolster his contested claims to the episcopal throne and fight off accusations of adultery, Damasus desperately needed elite supporters. These he earned not by romancing their purses, but providing them precisely the conditions of donation they required to pour their resources church-ward: a personalized endowment system to which they held the strings. We should not underestimate the compromises and tensions such a system produced. In Rome's densely packed, highly diverse neighborhoods, these elite-led coteries jostled and pushed against one another, occasionally erupting into the conflicts recorded by Hippolytus' Rifutation or the Damasus/Ursinus struggle, but largely maintaining a genial, albeit competitive, coexistence. 65 Indeed, this competitive environment may have produced the titu/i's very peculiar topography (see Fig. 10). While by the early sixth century the titular foundations were more or less evenly distributed in all the major residential neighborhoods,66 the probable fourth- or fifth-century foundations were often built within shouting distance of one another: the titular churches ofCrescentia and Fasciola faced one another over the Via Appia; on the slopes of the Caelian the foundations of Clementinus, and perhaps Aemeliae/Four Martyrs and Marcellinus and Peter sat within 300 meters of one another; while on the Esquiline, the area between the clivus Suburbanus and vicus Sabuci (approx. 500 meters across) was packed with some four titular foundations, including that of Pudentis, Sylvester and/or Equitus, Eusebius, and possibly Praxedis. 67 Typically, this "clumping" of foundations is shrugged off as the unfortunate byproduct of private patronage which caused churches to be built wherever space was donated to build them, rather than where they were needed. 68 One wonders if these clusters were instead the result of competitive fractionation:
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new foundations may have been born as competItIve alternatives to older neighborhood centers, established by cliques or subgroups who, for one reason or another, broke off to found their own places of worship nearby. Further tensions were buried within the tituli's own Janus-faced financial makeup, in which donors, presbyters, and bishops all played potentially conflicting roles. While bishops were the de facto executor of titular donations, the needs of bishops and individual donors did not always coincide. The years in which the tituli first appear on the textual radar saw tensions erupt between Christian donors and Roman bishops: an imperial rescript of 370, directed to Damasus himself, censured" ecclesiastics, ex-ecclesiastics, and continents," for will-hunting among female members of the community.69 Although usually interpreted as an attack against Damasus by his many enemies or by angry relatives, given the law's addressee, it was Damasus himselfwho probably solicited the law. 70 Damasus' aim was almost certainly to limit the financial independence of titular clergy and independent ascetics whose control over titular donations and direct access to donors challenged the bishop's own fundraising apparatus. The systematization of neighborhood diaconia, or charity centers, at about this time was probably also an attempt to counter the power of neighborhood-based tituli with another charitable institution, this run by deacons whose primary allegiance was to the bishop.7 1 The periodic skirmishes between titular presbyters and deacons may have been partially the product of these two competing systems of charitable giving, one the product of private interests, the other emphatically episcopal. 72 The same whisper of tensions seems to hang over the tituli's odd liturgical status. Presbyters in individual tituli presided over the mass and consecrated the host, as they had done for centuries. In the late fourth century, however, the rite of the fermentum was introduced into titular liturgies. 73 Again unique to Rome, the fermentum was the transport of bread, consecrated by the bishop, to the various titular presbyters. It was designed, so Innocent I states, so that the titular churches would not feel themselves separate from episcopal communion. 74 Why would such a rite be deemed necessary? Like the tituli themselves, it was almost certainly an attempt to mediate between the particulate and the centralized, to throw a notional episcopal umbrella over a disparate conglomerate of privately funded communities while preserving their de facto liturgical independence. 75
Going to Church in Fourth- and Early Fifth-Century Rome: The Continuation of House-Churches
The peculiar economy of the tituli was born of the private persons, neighborhoods, and other sub-groups who were so central to Rome's Christian life. As a euergetistic system, however, they tell us very little about the physical fabric of Christian lives. Where did fourth- and early fifth-century Christians attend
71
TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
weekly services? What did their meeting places look like? And how did the private system of endowments impact Christian worship space? As far as the city's public Christian topography was concerned, the Constantinian "revolution" was largely an extramural affair.7 6 The great majority of the Constantinian basilicas were martyr shrines and cemetery basilicas, and even the great Lateran cathedral lay hard against the city walls. The bustling masses of the city center and the trans-Tiber neighborhoods lay more or less untouched by the emperor's new Christian building projects. When did the Christians of Rome receive their first monumental basilicas for daily worship? New excavations in the titular churches and a revised study of their earliest masonry have provided an increasingly clear picture of Christian architecture during those years, one characterized by a surprisingly slow pace of building, modest in both scale and plan (Fig. I 1).77 The Liber Pontificalis assigns a number of "basilicas" to the efforts of preNicene bishops, such as Pius, Callistus, and Marcellus, but its reports cannot be confirmed, at least as to the form of the buildings in question. 78 Perhaps more reliable are the descriptions of "ecclesiae" or "basilicae" built by bishops Sylvester, Mark, Julius, and Liberius in the first half of the fourth century, although almost nothing remains of these projects.79 The second half of the century witnessed a slight acceleration of monumental church building; four basilican churches of moderate size are attested through the episcopate of Damasus. 80 However, it was only in the early years of the fifth century that these monumental, three-aisled basilicas appear with any frequency.8r It may be no coincidence that these were the very years that saw the reappearance of the emperors in Rome, a fact that Rome's bishops were quick to exploit. 82 Many of these new basilicas were spearheaded under Sixtus III and paid for by combined imperial episcopal monies, while the others were privately funded. It was Sixtus or his immediate predecessors, too, who built the first truly large intramural church, Santa Maria Maggiore, intended, it seems, to function as a second cathedral. 83 It is surely no accident that the bishops of Rome planted this flagrantly episcopal proj ect squarely among the dense tangle of Esquiline titular foundations, its looming mass and rich decoration blatantly superseding them. 84 The church may also have replaced the Liberian basilica, a rallying point for Ursinus' anti-episcopal forces during bishop Damasus' contested election. 85 The second two decades of the fifth century thus not only witnessed the first real monumentalization of the city center, but also heralded the episcopate, supported by the imperial court, as its most important impresario. The comparative richness of the Sistine projects only reinforces how very modest in scale and paltry in number were the churches of the previous century. While the destruction of earlier phases by subsequent rebuilding may have concealed some examples, the preservation oflate Roman levels in many of these sites makes this argument increasingly unpersuasive. The further fact that the many new excavations of the past ten years have not only failed
72
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• Basilicas: 4th c. 1
San Marcello
2
Sta. Pudentiana
3
Sta. Maria Maggiore
4
Basilica Liberiana
5
San Lorenzo in Damaso
6
San Marco
7
Sta. Anastasia
8
San . Clemente
9
San Lorenzo in Lucina
10 San Vitale 11 San Pietro in Vincoli 12 Sta. Maria in Trastevere 13 San Chrysogono 14 Sta. Sabina 15 SS. Giovanni e Paolo 16 Lateran 17 San Sisto Vecchio
to unearth more early churches, but have tended to re-date extant churches somewhat later, suggests that the lacunae of the fourth century should be heeded. Wherever Christians were celebrating their everyday liturgies during the first century after the Peace of the Church, it was probably not in the newly minted basilicas of earlier imagination. Given the slow pace of church building, it seems most likely that Christians of the fourth century continued to worship in the same places as did their ancestors of the third, namely in homes or other private spaces. 86 In the absence of any other sites of worship, this would seem a ready solution and has been proposed for other cities in the empire with similar lacunae. The problem is that not one of these third- and fourth-century meeting houses has ever been detected archaeologically.8 7 However, by focusing its attentions on the Roman titular churches, it is possible that Roman archaeology has never really looked in the right place. The titulus seems to have been an economic creation of the later fourth century and while some tituli doubtless endowed
73
11. Map, fourthand early fifthcentury basilica construction in Rome (including roads and major monuments).
TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
pre-existing foundations, others, perhaps the majority, were new creations. The earlier meeting houses never subsequently endowed as tituli may never have entered the subsequent ranks of titular churches, and thus would be missed by an archaeological lens which has focused almost exclusively on the titular churches and their preceding structures. That is, to find the houses and other private spaces used by third- and fourth-century Christians, we may simply have been digging in the wrong place. The evidence we do have from beneath the titular churches is informative of fourth-century realities in one respect. Federico Guidobaldi has pointed to the impressive number of what seem to be third- and fourth-century domestic aulae, or apsed reception halls, beneath the titular churches and suggested that these spaces, and the aristocratic domus to which they were attached, may have doubled as church meeting sites until they were gradually replaced by proper church basilicas. 88 The halls at San Clemente, Santa Susanna, Santa Balbina, and Quattro Coronati are the best candidates; titular foundations or Christian meeting places are attested at these sites from the late fourth and fifth centuries, but the first basilicas only appeared somewhat or, indeed, many centuries later. These late antique aulae may thus have served as the communities' churches. The total absence of fourth-century liturgical apparati or Christian decoration in these sites, despite the preservation of occasional floor levels, remains troubling, but the sheer numbers of these aulae/church pairings make the notion hard to ignore. If this theory is correct, the aristocratic domus would have played host to local, small-scale Christian meetings for far longer than previously supposed. As such, it would have been the center of daily Christian life and formed the nexus of Christian topography for nearly a century after the Peace of the Church, until it was gradually replaced by proper basilican structures beginning early in the fifth century. 89 Despite the extraordinary changes ushered in by Constantine, the Christians of fourth-century Rome very likely lived out most of their Christian lives not in basilicas, but in houses. While the great funerary buildings and smattering of new churches might hold the occasional throngs of Sunday masses or feast days, the small groups and families that still comprised the heart of Roman Christianity met for worship in homes. For economic reasons alone this is hardly surprising: Constantine's gifts did not leave the church with an excess of cash for other building projects, and the city's super-rich dragged their collective feet toward Christianity only in the last years of the century.9 0 Although simple economic exigency may have been to blame, the result was of no small import. Even as the bishop of Rome grew in stature and the clerical and liturgical apparatus became ever more firmly established, the physical locus of worship for thousands of Christians continued to be the homes of their own elite. While these churches were not "private" in the same sense as their domestic-church cousins, their domestic topography and particular financial
74
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arrangements kept them closely bound to their individual communities, and to the influence of their founding patrons.
The Home as Church: Domestic Piety and the Conversion
if Rome's Elite
Like pagan and pre-Constantinian homes before them, the houses of Rome's fourth-century Christians constituted a vast archipelago of sacred spaces. While the nascent basilicas and community centers held collective gatherings, it was the home where the most basic ritual acts of Christians' lives continued to take place. There, the age-old rituals of daily prayer and domestic communion continued to punctuate the hours, paralleling the rise of similar rituals in the public sphere. In the burgeoning number of Christian elite homes, however, these rituals might be plucked out of the fabric of daily life and enlarged, both in content and in architectural context. Collective-type liturgies, like the eucharistic mass, might be transplanted into the home along with their clergy, while ritual spaces were monumentalized, creating the first domestic shrines and churches. It was likewise in elite homes that two new forms of devotion first appeared in the city, namely the cult of relics and asceticism. Just as private houses and private foundations shaped Roman churchgoing, martyrs relics and monks may have found their first Roman foothold within the homes of the elite. The elite that joined the church in increasing numbers during the last decades of the fourth and first part of the fifth centuries were not the moderately well-to-do of previous years. These were the old moneyed families who counted among their ancestors the Gracchi and Cornelii and whose real-estate portfolios stretched from Spain to Syria, as well as newly promoted provincial elites. 91 The homes of these new Christian elites were worlds unto themselves and worlds which increasingly came to define the city itself.9 2 In Rome, as in Ostia and other western cities, the domus of the elite grew ever larger and occupied ever more of the city's habitation space. 93 Indeed, these houses often seem to have swallowed the city whole; within their walls, great apsed audience halls reproduced the civic basilicas, private baths, either within the home or nearby, served as entertainment complexes, and even the house's courtyards became fora in miniature, bearing inscribed acclamations and dedications to the house's owner.94 Around and above these houses clustered smaller apartments, the living spaces of the less prosperous who were often physically and financially bound to their aristocrat-Iandlords. 95 While almost none of these houses have been uncovered completely, these grand reception spaces seem to have been increasingly separated, both by distance and by circulation patterns, from the spaces of sleeping, cooking, and other activities of mundane living. 96 Even smaller houses, like that we shall see beneath Ss. Giovanni e Paolo, carved out similar spaces in miniature. 97 The more amorphous and permeable homes of the republic and early empire had thus become more rigidly defined
75
TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
functionally and more emphatically articulated spatially. The houses where elite Romans would practice Christian cult were thus places where an individual action took place in a specialized space, and where that space was expected to wear its most recognizable, typically public, garb. Domestic Rituals As with so many other aspects of pre-Nicene practice, daily prayer is described in most liturgical histories as moving ever further from the home. 98 From the domestic confines of the pre-Nicene church to the earliest monasteries and therein to the public churches by the late fourth century, periodic prayer seems to have become ever more public, as increasing numbers of churches, including those in Rome, began to offer daily, even twice daily offices. Yet as a careful examination of the evidence makes clear, alongside these collective gatherings, daily domestic prayer continued to form the seedbed of Christian daily life. 99 Much of the evidence comes from ascetic contexts; as will be discussed more fully below, ascetic contexts in fourth-century Rome were elite houses. But even their so-called monastic offices were, as Jerome emphasizes, simply an intensification of an age-old domestic prayer habit. 100 Whether the gentle punctuation of mealtimes, dawn, and dusk, or a more rigorously timed schedule on the third, sixth, and ninth hours of the day, the rhythms of daily prayer were born of a need not limited to ascetics. To pray was to soothe a persistent and ultimately, individual ache - for divine contact, for health, and for salvation. Homes, whether ascetic or not, were the seat of these individual lives and individual anxieties and thus it was from the city's Christian homes, as well as its churches, that the hum of prayer continued to vibrate. As they did throughout the third century, fourth-century Christians continued the practice of eucharistic reservation, keeping a part of the bread from church services for use during the week. Jerome claims to have researched the practice and found it to be particularly common in Rome, where it was performed daily as part of a communion ritual. 101 As we have seen, the evidence from Hippolytus, Justin Martyr, and Novatian, Romans all, support Jerome's claims.l02 Similarly, both the biographer of Melania the Younger and John Rufus describe daily home-based communion as particularly popular in the capital city.103 The possibility that daily home-based eucharists were common in Rome has major implications for our understanding of Christian ritual topography. While Sunday mass and feast-day liturgies were surely held in the older meeting houses and new basilicas, daily public eucharists do not seem to have been offered in Rome until the sixth century. 104 That is, weekday communion, which comprised the majority of communion acts, may have been predominantly a domestic affair. Although the details of the domestic communion ritual are not elucidated even by these later sources, it probably continued to be a pre-mealtime rite; other sources describe it as apotropaic, used to ward off danger or illness. 105
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12. Ivory pyxis, depicting the Multiplication of the Loaves and Fishes, fifth~ixth century A.D. (Courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, accession nO.I7· I90·34)·
In aristocratic homes, the containers used to guard the bread (Cyprian had called them arcae) may have taken on a newly elaborate form reflective of the eucharist's perceived power: some of the fourth- through sixth-century ivory pyxides manufactured in Rome may have been used for the purpose (Fig. 12).106 These diminutive containers would have been too small to hold the communion bread for a large community mass, yet the frequent depiction of scenes like Multiplication of the Loaves and Fishes or the Wedding at Cana strongly point to eucharistic use, while miracle scenes, including many
77
TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
depictions of miraculous healings, may have urged on the eucharist's curative powers. 107 At sundown, the houses of Rome would have glowed with the lights of yet another ancient ritual, that of the lighting of the evening lamps. 108 As discussed in the previous chapter, a lamp-lighting ritual accompanied by prayer was practiced by pagans and Jews as well as pre-Nicene Christians. 109 Like the reserved eucharist, the rite (sometimes termed lucernal'ium in Christian contexts) continued to form part of domestic religious life in fourth-century Rome: Jerome describes just such a "sacrificium vespertinum" in which lamps were kindled, and Prudentius, a one-time resident of the city, even wrote a particular hymn for the ritual. 1 IQ Rituals like eucharistic reservation and the lucernarium were old rites, and their popularity in fourth-century Rome finds an ancient domestic ritual world carrying on more or less independent of the developments in the new churches. The gradual conversion of Rome's elite, however, brought real changes to these domestic rites. While earlier ritual took place in the multi-purpose rooms of poor and middle-class homes, Christian aristocrats, accustomed to a greater functional separation in their homes, began to carve out specific church spaces. The first domestic churches and shrines were thus the offspring of a new Christian aristocracy. These domestic churches are fairly well attested in the textual corpus: Melania the Younger and the widows Albina and Marcellina were said to have them, Ambrose may have served mass in one, while the ascetic priest Macarius may have been beaten up in one. I I I Finding their physical traces and thus understanding their forms and functions has proven much harder, and only two archaeological examples can be even hypothetically identified. 112 Nonetheless, the combined evidence of the physical and textual record suggests that these churches and shrines played host to rites far more complex than prayer or lamp-lighting and may have appropriated rituals from the public churches. For instance, as related in the beginning of this chapter, Melania the Younger's biographer describes the young ascetic using a church in her Roman mansion for nocturnal vigils. 113 Melania is said to have lived with her in-laws, Valerius Severus and his wife, for at least part of her time in Rome and the remains of their mansion was discovered on the Caelian Hill. 1 14 The excavations revealed a vast audience hall, bath complex, and inscriptions to Valerius and his family (Fig. 13). No church was ever found. However, the site may have produced an extraordinary collection of liturgical silver, including two silver flasks with busts of Peter and Paul and a cup inscribed "I have asked, I have received, I have made an offering." I1 5 Was this Melania's church plate? It is wholly unclear, particularly if we consider that an heiress like Melania had a number of Roman houses, anyone of which could have held her church, and that the findspot of the silver, discovered in the eighteenth century, was never precisely described. 116
ROME
N
;/
p ..
r I 3. Plan, house of the Valerii, Rome, fourthfifth century A.D. (after Brenk I999, fig. 3).
o
-
20m
While the liturgical plate may reveal nothing of Melania's project, it does suggest the Valerii's fairly sophisticated domestic ritual apparatus. The flasks may have graced either a eucharistic mass or a dining table, while the inscribed cup seems to commemorate a vatum in the age-old Roman manner, but now made to the Christian god and most importantly, taken and recorded in the home. In short, elite Romans like the Valerii seem to have imported into the home rituals that were typically centered in communal churches. II7 By far the most impressive object was a bronze lamp in the shape of a ship, steered by Peter and Paul, its mast carrying a tabula ansata with the inscription, "The Lord gives the law to Valerius Severus Eutropius. Live [in Christ]" (Fig. I4). I IS Valerius Severus was Melania's father-in-law, urban prefect, consul, and thus one of the city's great magistrates. II9 Oddly, the inscription does not praise Valerius' lawgiving, but reminds the magistrate that all law derives from God. God's law is handed down through his church, symbolized by the ship, and her apostolic pilots are none other than Rome's paired apostles, symbolic of not only the Church of Rome but also its episcopate, descended from Peter himself.I20 The lamp was thus almost certainly an episcopal gift and a clever reminder that even Valerius was bound by church law, both in the law-courts and the lamp-lit spaces of the home. The presence of an episcopal voice here among the family's ritual silver speaks of the complex bond between aristocratic piety and episcopal coffers. The bishops of Rome courted these aristocrats, encouraging their prayers, learned study, and churchgoing as the well-springs from which pious donations
79
TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
would flow. Purging the wealthy of their sin-producing excess wealth, as Damasus was said to do, might also mean encouraging their private devotions, perhaps even consulting on the construction of a private church. 121 Yet these attentions were not, as has perhaps been assumed, mindlessly sycophantic. 122 As the Valerian collection is testament, the aristocracy's increasingly sophisticated domestic rituals might carry them outside episcopal oversight and control. These were families which had always dominated the religious life of the city, both through the civic magistracies and their often very conspicuous extra-civic rituals. As was suggested in the previous chapter, these families of ancient name and even deeper traditions were accustomed to act as religious impresarios in their own right. Elite domestic piety thus presented the bishops of Rome with something of a Gordian knot. Negotiating its tangles required a careful dance between encouragement and caution, a dance the Valerian lamp attempted to perform. The middle-men in this complex elite-episcopal relationship were domestic clergy. The complex rituals suggested by the Valerian collection would seem to hint at clerical officiants. Albina and Marcella, wealthy Roman widows and two ofJerome's early patrons, were said to have employed a bevy of both priests and monks to minister to their large Aventine household. 123 Presumably, the priests offered masses and the monks offered scriptural advice, although Jerome's recommendation of the pious Exuperius to supervise both the readings and daily devotions of the widow Furia suggests that monks' roles may not have been limited to an advisory capacity. 124 But how exactly were these clerics and ascetics engaged? What was their relationship to their householder patrons? Ascetics were essentially free agents; as will be discussed below, the ascetics of fourth-century Rome seem to have been largely self-proclaimed, distinguished only by their life habits, rather than any particular hierarchy or residence. Their path to the aristocratic domus would have been paved by their individual charisma and reputation, and maintained through the traditional client-patron mechanisms - guidance and devotional inspiration exchanged for financial support and glowing recOlmnendations. Ordained clergy would seem to be held on a tighter leash; by the sixth century, the selection of clergy to serve in private churches was approved by the bishop, however in the previous century, a more ad hoc arrangement is more likely. 12 5 From Jerome's many snide asides, it seems clear that the clerics of the great households behaved as clients, attending their patrons not only in their churches but also at their dinners and receptions in hopes of financial and gastronomic remuneration. 126 While these clerics were surely beholden to their neighborhood presbyter or to the bishop himself, their patron's household orbit probably drew them just as tightly. Subject to two masters, their allegiances would necessarily have been torn. Indeed, with the right connections, one might even employ a foreign bishop to serve in one's domestic church. A clarissima living in Trastevere
80
ROME
I4. Bronze lamp from the house of the Valerii, fourth century A.D. (Museo Archaeologico cli Firenze. Courtsey of the Soprintendenza Archeologica per la ToscanaFirenze, negative no. 20632).
pulled off just a feat. When the newly consecrated, but already famous bishop Ambrose was in town she persuaded him to offer a mass in her home. I27 The word of this domestic mass quickly spread, and a paralytic bath-keeper asked to be carried on a litter to the clarissima's home, where the new bishop miraculously healed the newcomer. Ambrose himself was of respectable, if not stellar Roman stock, and we can imagine that the Trastevere clarissima was a friend or even a patron of the family.128 Family ties aside, Rome's own bishop, Damasus, may have seen the matter somewhat differently. Offering 8r
TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
15. Plan, horti Domitiae Lucil/ae, second-sixth centuries A.D. (LTUR 5, fig. 108).
mass outside one's episcopaljurisdiction was frowned upon and Damasus could not have been unaware of Ambrose' moonlighting nor of his relationship with the clarissima. 129 Trespassing on Damasus' liturgical turf and hobnobbing with his much-prized matronae would have been doubly insulting and one wonders if the event contributed to the studiously ambivalent relationship the two bishops would maintain for the rest of their tenures. 130 In any case, the story reveals the complexity, independence, and extra-domestic, public quality of some private liturgies. This Trastevere house, like that on the Caelian, seems to have accommodated a proper mass in which even neighbors, like the bathowner, might participate. In obtaining Ambrose to lead this expansive group, the clarissima uncovered the yawning gaps between the expectations of church law and those of aristocratic patronage, gaps that domestic churches and their liturgies might push ever wider. Relying on patronage networks rather than episcopal privilege to obtain domestic clergy represented one potential source of tension; actually serving in one's own private rituals was another. Private rites by nature offered an expanded role to patrons, potentially forcing ecclesiastical authorities out of the starring roles. We have already encountered pre-Nicene clerics who worried over the purity of the reserved sacrament consumed in homes. These anxieties never seem to have abated: Jerome lamented that self-communion
82
ROME
Accesso IV sec. em' =
20 piedl
4.45 m =15 piedi
A
B
11
c
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I I I
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Accesso V sec. / ,/,
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was possible at any time and that even those fresh from a night of sex might partake of it. 13 1 Like Tertullian, Zeno worried that in mixed pagan/ Christian households, pagan hygeia or bread brought from the temple, and the Christian reserved eucharist might, in the chaos of home life, be confused and the home communicant inadvertently lapse into apostasy. 1)2 Like their predecessors, fourth-century churchmen worried that those who administered rituals in their own hand, in their own homes, might break down the barriers that separated church from world. This potential for independent ritual initiative is also provocatively illustrated in a small church unearthed near the Lateran. To the west of the new cathedral lay a complex of aristocratic horti, or garden/residence complexes (Fig. 15).133 In the hortus once owned by Domitia Lucilla, Marcus Aurelius' mother, was discovered a hall with opus seetile floors, beneath which lay a frescoed warren of rooms decorated in the Severan period with birds and plants. 134 It was in these substructures that a group of mid fourth-century Christians covered the walls with new frescoes and perhaps used the space for meetings (Fig. 16).135 The new paintings included popular Christian themes, such as the raising of Lazarus, the Samaritan Woman at the Well, and the Multiplication of Loaves. 13 6 One room, however, included more personal scenes, seemingly depicting the worshipers in action. In one, a woman carries a burning torch through a room lit by a hanging lamp. Nearby, a pallium-clad man lays his hand on the head of a smaller figure, perhaps a boy, his other hand clasping a vessel that will seemingly be used for an anointing. An accompanying painted inscription
16. Plan, Christian rooms in the horti ofDomitia Lucilla, fourth century A.D. (after Scinari 1995, fig. 249).
TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
proclaims, "Genovius, servant of the saints, served in this place" (Fig. 17).137 Together with the woman in procession and the anointed boy, the images describe a family or other small group. Genovius, however, is a complex figure: his costume of tunic and pallium is the garb of aristocrats (or apostles), yet his actions, the laying on of a hand and the preparation for an anointment, seem clerical. The lack of any clerical epithet accompanying his name suggests he was a layman, possibly of some status. 138 Perhaps he was the community's patron, the owner of the hall above; perhaps he simply assisted in its rituals. Without further knowing the nature of the building in which these images were found, it is impossible to draw any conclusions as to the space's affiliation or patronage. [39 Given its proximity to the Lateran, it may have catered to those in the service of the bishop, although the total absence of any clerical references and the absence of an episcopal palace in this period make this less likely than it might seem. [4 0 Again, the only clues derive from the monument itself and in this regard, it is the selfconfident piety of lay persons which is most striking. Although built beside the city's sparkling new cathedral, the hortus shrine takes no visible notice of it, the rituals and prayers of its own community seemingly directed toward its own ambiguous ends. Relic Cult and Private Churches Roman elites' do not seem to have limited themselves to the appropriation of eucharistic masses for domestic use, or serving as impresarios of their own rituals. They may also have helped evolve new rites and new attitudes to Christian holiness, again in the context of their domestic churches. One of the most important trends in late fourth-century piety was a burgeoning cult of relics. A series of much-publicized imperial tral1s/atiol1es seem to have begun the fad. 141 The discovery and dispersal of the True Cross by Helena was legend by 395, while Constantius II marched the relics of the apostles into Constantinople in 357 or 359 to Mediterranean-wide fanfare. 142 Even before these imperial maneuvers, relics were circulating through the private hands of elite Christians. Already in 312 a jemil1a l10bilis named Lucilla was accustomed to carrying a martyr's bone with her to church and kissing it before communion, earning her the censure of her bishop.143 By the 380s, it was elite Christians who dominated the relic-trade: Melania the Elder, Paulinus of Nola, and Sulpicius Severus were exchanging relics of the True Cross; Basil of Caesarea and Gregory of Nyssa's family had cornered the market on the Forty Martyrs; Rufinus, Theodosius' praetorian prefect of the East, procured those of Peter and Paul from Rome, while others of the Theodosian gens were running relic-buying errands in the Holy Land for their friends back home. 144 Even the later discovery of Stephen's relics was dominated by aristocrats: Avitus, who shipped them off to Braga, Orosius, his negligent messenger who failed to deliver them, and the dozens of North
ROME
I 7. Painting, Christian rooms in the horti of Domitia Lucilla, fourth century A.D. (Scrinari I995, fig. 25I).
African families who procured them and installed them in estate churches. I45 A package of relics including the apostles Andrew, Thomas, and Luke, John the Baptist, the Milanese Gervasius, Protasius, and Nazarius, and Euphemia of Chalcedon circulated among western aristocrat/bishops including Paulinus of Nola, Victricius of Rouen, and Gaudentius of Brescia, perhaps having originated with Ambrose. I46 Rome's aristocrats, some of the wealthiest and best connected in the empire, lay at the center of these exchange networks and it was in their homes that the first evidence of relic cult appears in the city. The Roman trend may actually have been set in motion by Constantine or his family through the construction of the first domestic relic church, the sancta ecclesia Hierusalem (modern Santa Croce) in the imperial palace called the Sessorian (Figs. 18-19).I47 This palace, set near the Campus Lateranus, seems to have been a favorite of the Constantinian dynasty; a number of honorific inscriptions to Helena were found on the site, and the empress may have restored a bath complex and added a large apsed audience hall. I4 8 The palace church was inserted into a large arcaded pavilion, originally connecting the palace proper to a now-defunct amphitheater and circus. The 37m long rectangular space was re oriented by moving the main entrance from the long south wall to the short west wall and adding a semicircular apse at the east. The exterior arcades seem to have been blocked up, and two sets of new arcades laid transversally across the body of the new nave, dividing it into thirds. I49 An eastern room originally connected to the pavilion remained in communication with the new church via two corridors reaching around the back of the apse. Indeed, the church's Jerusalem moniker seems to have
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TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
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been born of its most famous possession, a relic of the Holy Cross, which may have been kept in the odd chamber in back of the apse. I50 Recent excavations in this area have suggested that this room was in turn connected to another apsed structure, also originally a palace room, which at some point contained a baptismal font. 15 1 Was the ecclesia Hierusalem actually a palace church, or simply another public church of Constantinian origin? On the one hand, the church is listed among those founded by Constantine and thus ceded to the episcopate, along with land adjacent to the palace. At some point it received a baptismal font, and the church served as a stop on mid to late fifth-century liturgical processions. 15 2 These last points are not terribly persuasive; the baptistery is wholly undated, but like other such fonts in the titular churches, probably dates to the mid fifth century or later.I53 The Sessorian's inclusion in later fifth-century public liturgies reveals nothing of the church's original function and indeed, its first
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feast day celebration seems to have been organized by its own clergy, outside papal controL I54 The real question is the nature of Constantine's donation; like the emperor's other suburban foundations, the church's patrimony was to be supervised by the episcopate. And yet, the palace itself seems to have remained an imperial possession and was used as an imperial palace through the time of Theodoric. 1 55 The episcopate was thus in the odd position of claiming at least nominal control over a single structure within a vast imperial compound. 156 Pointing to the similar, behind-the-apse position of the Golgatha site in Constantine's Church of the Holy Sepulcher, scholars have claimed the building was a purposeful evocation of Jerusalem in the imperial capitaL 1 57 But the ecclesia Hierusalem and its tiny relic room was not, like its Jerusalem sister, a great free-standing basilica. It was purposefully sited within the imperial palace in a pre-existing palace room. That is, whatever the episcopate's actual role in supervising its liturgies and patrimony, the Sessorian church was purpose-built to proclaim the emperor's personal possession of this most important relic. Jerusalem was now to be sought in the emperor's own home. '58 In monumentalizing and thus publicizing this possessive act, the emperor may have pushed Rome's aristocracy to construct its own private relic shrines. While Christian aristocrats molded their ritual lives on a whole series of
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TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
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previous traditions independent of imperial precedence, as arbiter of taste the emperor was unequaled and his Sessorian project must have been influential. In any case, when domestic-church building began in earnest during the 370S and 380s, privately held relics had become much in vogue. The most provocative evidence for the trend appears in the well-known houses beneath the church of Ss. Giovanni e Paolo, probable later site of the titulus Pammachii and/ or Byzantis (Figs. 20-23). The second story of the Roman house complex has long been claimed as a probable house-church, while a small shrine on a mezzanine stair-landing has been traditionally identified as an associated confessio located above the graves of the martyrs John and Paul. 159 A more recent analysis has cast doubt over the existence of the house-church, and suggested that the confessio was in fact a private reliquary shrine. 160 The houses lay on the Caelian Hill, a largely residential area and home to some of the city's most powerful families. 161 In the mid fourth century, the Ss_ Giovanni e Paolo area was occupied by a large, multistory residence, itself composed of an early house to the north and a converted shop/ apartment complex covered with a succession offrescoes, to the south. 162 Between the two, a monumental stairway led to the home's second story, where a large hall, allegedly used for Christian meetings, was located. 163 In the final decades of the fourth century, however, this stairway was cut by the addition of a mezzanine-level landing and it was here that a Christian shrine was constructed. 164 Assuming 88
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that a Christian meeting hall still existed on the second floor, the shrine would have thus been severed from it. The shrine, a small space only 1.2Im deep and I.Im wide, was covered with frescoes and contained a small niche in its rear wall (see Fig. 22). r65 The frescoes on the flanking walls depict scenes of martyrdom, while below, male and female pairs, one bearing what looks to be a cup, march toward a central image of an orant. Two figures bow in homage to this orant, who is likely a saint. Attempts to identifY this saint as either John or Paul, the saints of the subsequent church, are unconvincing, not least because the number of martyrs in the passio stubbornly refuses to match those in the frescos, and the passio itself is almost certainly an imaginative sixth-century re-mix of an earlier eastern tale. r66 Given the scenes' violent content and the fact that the now open-niche was originally closed, the shrine probably did contain martyr's relics, but it is not clear whose. The family of donors depicted in the shrine's frescos already points to private patronage, if not private use. r 67 Even if there were a house church above, this shrine was wholly disconnected from it and clearly part of the aristocratic domus below. r68 Indeed, the severing of domus (and shrine) from meeting hall would be in keeping with the above-noted tendency in domus ecclesiae to separate collective from domestic space. The alleged graves beneath the shrine are unlikely to be fourth century in date; intramural burial was essentially nonexistent in fourth-century Rome, and it is highly unlikely that a contemporary aristocrat, no matter how great his piety, would bury two executed men in his home. r 69 Rather, the two "graves" are almost certainly medieval insertions, made during the site's long medieval afterlife when the small shrine had come to be regarded as a conJessio. The many counts against the conJessio hypothesis point instead to a simpler solution: the space was simply a household shrine, designed for the veneration of privately held relics.
21. Section, shrine area beneath Ss. Giovanni e Paolo, second-fifth
centuries A.D. (Apollonj Ghetti r978, fig. 4)·
TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
22. Shrine, houses beneath Ss. Giovanni e Paolo, fourth century A.D. (author).
Unlike the grand relic church at the Sessorian, this shrine was no more than a closet. With its small size and frescos documenting family rituals, it most closely resembles the lararia or larger sacraria of pagan domestic cult. Indeed, the relic shrine is carefully juxtaposed with a possible earlier pagan ritual space, located at the foot of the stairs (Fig. 23).170 Here a small triangular courtyard was painted to resemble a garden, and a fountain positioned against one wall. Over the fountain was painted a monumental marine scene whose protagonist has been variously identified as Venus, Isis, or even the house's domina, while next to it, a large block has been identified as an altar for libations. The juxtaposition of the two shrines could hardly be accidental, particularly since the marine fresco had been painted only two generations earlier and may have remained visible during the Christian shrine construction. 171 The Christian shrine's social topography, however, is quite different from that of its pagan
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23. "Garden" area with fountain, Venus fresco and shrine (?), houses beneath Ss. Giovanni e Paolo, third century A.D. (author).
predecessors; placed on a stair landing, it neither proclaimed the family's piety to visitors as did the corridor shrines below, nor catered to the home's dependents as did the kitchen shrines ofPompeii. 172 On the other hand, the stairway on which it was placed was a large one, made even more accessible by its central location between the two halves of the house and an enlarged doorway nearby. The shrine was thus, in many ways, a Janus-faced project, offering an intimate space for contemplation of the holy on what had been a major domestic thoroughfare overlooking the home's earlier sacred center. If the pagan shrine's chronology were more certain, or if a proposed identification of the Christian owner as Jerome's friend Pammachius were more convincing, the raison d' etre behind this extraordinary project might be clearer. Left only with the evidence of architecture and topography, the Ss. Giovanni e Paolo shrine seems to describe an elite domestic piety, centered on a still very new cult of relics but developing in dialogue with pagan tradition. 173 Even as the tiny shrine promoted a more individualized ritual experience, the
91
TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
shrine's frescos imagined that ritual as including the whole household, strictly arrayed in their respective gender and perhaps social roles. Likewise, while its odd mezzanine location set it apart, the shrine was still built within the household's century-old sacred area a carefully worded coda to an ancient tradition. The effort recalls that of a contemporary Ostian family, who undertook to "Christianize" their house nympheum by likening its waters to the rivers of Paradise; the project may have been prompted by an irresistible comparison between the family's name, Tigriniani, and the paradisiacal river Tigris. 174 Like the Tigriniani, the householders at Ss. Giovanni e Paolo seem to have wrapped the new cult of relics in a purposeful mantle of traditional, family oriented pietas. While the martyrs worshipped by the family on the Caelian remain nameless, relics of brand-name martyrs are more tentatively documented in other of the city's domestic churches. By the fifth century at the latest, a small church dedicated to Saint Felix of No la existed on the Pincian Hill, a church which, as it was neither a titulus nor ever part of the festal liturgies, seems to have been a private foundation that passed into episcopal hands in the mid fifth century. 175 Felix never seems to have generated any public cult outside of his hometown in southern Italy; what was a small church dedicated to him doing on the Pincian in Rome? Excavations near the probable site of the church revealed a wealthy aristocratic domus, probably occupied through the early fifth century by Anicia Faltonia Proba, wife of consul Petronius Probus, born of both Anician and Petronian bloodlines, and an ardent ascetic. 176 Anicia's 'Rolodex' included the name of every major Christian thinker of the century's end, including Rufinus of Aquileia, John Chrysostom, Jerome, and Augustine. I77 Her husband's connections were even more numerous, and almost certainly included Paulinus of Nola. 17 8 Paulinus, was of course, the impresario ofFelix's cult, having constructed his own villa-cum-monastery-cum-martyr shrine at the confessor's tomb outside Nola. 179 Through his efforts, Felix gained international renown, particularly among Paulinus' aristocratic peers. 180 Paulinus and his aristocratic friends also enthusiastically collected and exchanged relics, shipping them around the Mediterranean through a network of shared contacts; Melania the Elder brought Paulinus a piece of the True Cross from the Holy Land, he in turn procured relics for his friend Sulpicius Severus in Gaul. 181 While there is no record of Paulinus trading Felix's relics, the most logical explanation for this lone cult of Felix on the Pincian is a private relic, given to the Anicii by their friend, Paulinus of Nola, and kept in a domestic church. The evidence, of course, is wholly circumstantial, but given the mania of relic collecting among these particular aristocrats, the possibility should not be discounted. The same may very well be true of another private foundation, this one a titulus. The titulus donated by the Jemina inlustra Vestina in the first decades of the fifth century was to be dedicated to the saints Gervasius and Protasius. 182 These
92
ROME
two saints were not Roman, but Milanese, and like Felix, their cult was promulgated in a spectacular fashion by none other than the bishop Ambrose. r83 Mter miraculously finding the saints' relics in 386 and removing them to his own basilica, Ambrose immediately began to ship them about, sending both fragments of their bodies and touch-relics to public churches, and placing them in private hands. 184 By 403, Paulinus of N ola, a friend of Ambrose, received the bones of Gervasius, Protasius, Nazarius, another Ambrosian discovery, along with those of the apostles Andrew and Luke, and placed them in a small church near his family estate. 185 About the same time, a private estate church outside Hippo had also obtained Gervasius' and Protasius' relics and the lady of the house was using them to cure local peasants of demorllc possession. 186 Ambrose, of course, was Roman, and we have already encountered him in the service to one of the city's clarissimae. We are never told whether or not Vestina's church contained relics. However, Gervasius' and Protasius' vogue in precisely these years was owed not to any qualities of the saints themselves or to their story, but to their relics - their miraculous discovery, healing properties, and of course, to their connection with Ambrose himself. Furthermore, the titular presbyter placed in charge of the church under Vestina's will, one Leopardus, seems to be the same Leopardus who was dispatched to Milan by bishop Siricius in 392/393. Might he have carried the Milanese relics back with him to his Roman patrona?18 7 Finally, the church's later, popular designation was to Saint Vitalis, the alleged father of Gervasius and Protasius and another martyr whose discovery involved Ambrose. Again, certainty is not possible, but the most likely explanation for Vestina's dedication was a set of privately held relics of the saints Gervasius and Protasius and perhaps Vitalis, which upon the lady's death passed into her titular foundation. Traditional scholarship has always held that the cult of saints in fourth- and fifth-century Rome was a wholly extramural affair. 188 The martyrs' city was the suburbs, where their tombs lay in the catacombs, undisturbed by translation or even ad corpus churches until the late sixth century. The city's dogged adherence to the intramural burial prohibitions or the popes' persistent control over local martyrs may have effectively discouraged intramural relic cult. 189 It was only with the great wagon-loads of martyrs bones, pushed along by a seventhand eighth-century papal apparatus, that relic cult inside the walls became a public fixture. As a domestic practice, however, the fragmentary evidence adduced above suggests that the tradition may be far older. That relics would have first entered the city proper in aristocratic hands is hardly surprising; it was through private hands that the most popular late antique relics - the Forty Martyrs, Stephen, and the True Cross - were promulgated. 190 It is no accident that these first intramural relics were likely of foreign extraction. Local saints were available locally, a short trip outside the walls. The foreign holy was a precious commodity, and in this early date, monopolized by the multinational corporation of Roman aristocrats with their pan-Mediterranean
93
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web of relatives and friends. In some CItIes, these aristocrats immediately deposited their relics into public churches; in Rome, with its surfeit of local martyrs, the local elite may have held them more closely, in the home. And yet, if the examples of Felix and Gervasius and Protasius are any indication, privately held relics and their domestic churches may have simply faded from view, failing to incite any popular following. In this regard, they may be largely disconnected from later intramural relic veneration. One later example, however, suggests the opposite. The last major international saint to be introduced to Rome in late antiquity was the pro to martyr Stephen. His cult had spread like wildfire since the discovery of his body in 4I5 outside Jerusalem, with relics dispersed all over North Mrica by 426. 191 Stephen's first appearance in Rome, however, came in another private foundation, built by the great Anician heiress, Demetrias. Demetrias, like her grandmother Anicia Faltonia Proba before her, was the darling of Christian scholars who peppered her with advice and solicited her patronage. 192 After fleeing Alaric in 410 for North Africa, she returned to Rome by the 440S or 450S. Upon her death sometime before 46I, she requested that a church be built and dedicated to Saint Step hen the protomartyr. 193 The church was constructed in the center courtyard of her villa on the third mile of the Via Latina (Figs. 24-25).194 The large basilica included a large crypt that projected above the church's pavement, created from a preexisting structure of uncertain function and accessed from the sanctuary.195 Crypts were a novelty in Rome of the fifth century, although in Palestine they were coming into vogue as part of a burgeoning cult of martyrs. 196 The careful, centralized incorporation of an earlier structure to create a crypt strongly whispers of a
94
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martyr's cult centered on relics, So, too, does the altar above, complete with a cavity perforated by a small fenestelk 197 As the church was, from its inception, dedicated to the protomartyr on Demetrias' wishes, the relics, be they in altar, crypt, or both, were likely those of Stephen, Demetrias would have had ample access to Stephen's relics, either through her extensive network of friends or during her long stay in North Africa, where his cult was first popular- 19 8 According to the inventio narrative that circulated with the relics, Stephen had also been buried in a villa, that of his tutor Gamaliel, who placed Stephen's body in an estate mausoleum. 199 It was the contemporary villa's presbyter, one Lucianus, who received the divine visions that led him to the relics. The odd selection of a villa-courtyard, and careful incorporation of an earlier structure to serve as the crypt may be explained as an attempt to duplicate Stephen's original resting place. The status of this extraordinary church is puzzling. On the one hand, an inscription from the site and the Liber Pontifrcalis claimed that bishop Leo I (440-6r) had a hand in it, executing Demetrias' final request; given the fame and fortune of the newly returned exile, he could hardly have done otherwise. 20o The presbyter Tigrinus, seemingly a cleric attached to this particular part of the Via Latina, supervised the work and possibly served in the church itself, while a baptistery of uncertain date likewise suggests a local worshipping population. 201 Yet the very size of the crypt, which projected above
95
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25. Plan, Santo Stefano in Via Latina church, fifth century A.D, (after Sorrenti 1996, fig. 4),
TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
the nave floor for some two-thirds of its length, would have limited the size and feasibility of regular services. 202 Furthermore, there is no record of the villa or any other property having been given to the episcopate to support the church. 203 Indeed, the estate seems to have been used by the family at least through the mid fourth century, as an inscription naming Demetrias' relative, Sextus Anicius Paulinus, consul of 325 was found nearby, while Krautheimer thought he could detect fifth-century repairs to some of the villa's walls. 204 Two narrow alleyways bounding the church on either side and accessed through lateral church doorways likewise suggest an attempt to screen the church from the remainder of the villa, an effort that would hardly have been necessary had the villa been wholly abandoned. 205 Despite these tantalizing hints, it remains unclear whether or not Demetrias or her kin continued to reside in their suburban estate at the time of the church's construction; the slight evidence in favor suggests that the church remained a private possession but used by a local, albeit probably limited, public. 206 Immediately upon the completion ofDemetrias' villa-martyr shrine sometime before 46r, the bishops of Rome built a flurry of Stephen churches. A great round church dedicated to the protomartyr was begun in 46r or shortly after and consecrated by Simplicius (468-83).207 Built on imperial land and possibly with the help of imperial funds, Santo Stefano Rotondo's great size, extraordinary plan, and luxurious materials all point to a major episcopal endeavor, aimed to integrate Stephen's cult into the urban public liturgies. 20B The bishops also began a second site of Step hen veneration at the San Lorenzo complex on the Via Tiburtina, a site already heavy with episcopal presence. 209 Here Simplicius dedicated a church to the protomartyr, while his predecessor Hilary (46r-8) seems to have built a monastery on the site, also possibly dedicated to Stephen, as well as a Stephen oratory in the Lateran baptistery.2IO At some later date, yet another center of Stephen cult developed around Saint Peter's.2II What caused these bishops to take such an interest in Stephen's cult? Only the arrival of his relics in Rome could prompt such a spate of building in such a short time. Were the relics a papal prize, the Liber Pontificalis surely would have crowed about it, but it is silent. Demetrias seems to have obtained them first, and while she lived, Leo could only carry out her final wishes and see to the construction of her relic-stocked basilica. Mter her death, however, the episcopate moved to appropriate Stephen's cult, commissioning both a showpiece church inside the walls, and attaching Stephen to the already enormously popular, and heavily episcopal, Laurentian shrine on the Tiburtina. Asceticism and Domestic Churches Just as the collection and veneration of relics was introduced to Rome by its new aristocratic converts, so, too, were the new habits of ascetic discipline
ROME
popularized by the same elite trendsetters. From Marcella and Paula to Melania the Younger and Pammachius, the last quarter of the fourth century and first decades of the fifth saw the women and men of the city's oldest families sleeping on the floors of their splendid mansions, jettisoning their fine silks in favor of sackcloth, and refusing second marriages or conjugal sex in favor of a chaste life. 2I2 This was the generation of much-publicized radicals, poster children for a movement that would eventually embrace a multitude of silent others whose own ascetic practices lay largely below our sources' radar, either because they were not rich, or because their ascetic pursuits were more modest. Whatever their fame or particular brand of asceticism, all of Rome's firstgeneration ascetics shared a common context for their devotions: their homes. Before the establishment of institutionalized monasticism in the sixth century, ascetic pursuits in the West were a domestic matter. The city of Rome was no exception, and mansions and more humble houses were the first seats of ascetic practice. Our most voluble source on these early domestic ascetics is Jerome; friend and advisor to bishop Damasus from 382-5. Jerome forged close connections with elite women seeking spiritual guidance. 213 His letters, written after his abrupt departure from Rome in the wake of Damasus' death, are an attempt to continue this role, using the same elite networks he so deftly navigated in person. 214 How successful was this epistolary counseling and thus to what degree it shaped Roman domestic ascetic practice, is impossible to know. Written specifically to be read aloud and discussed in the ascetic salons, Jerome's letters at the very least reflect an intimate knowledge of the Roman scene. They also betray a mistrust of the city and its clerics, a product of his scandaltinged final months there. 215 In short, they describe one man's ideal of a largely female ascetic practice and are best read as admonitions, not descriptions. In these letters, Jerome did not simply put forth a new code of sexual and behavioral ethics: he helped to map out a new moral topography. For Jerome, the city was the devil's snare: the streets and the forum were traps that would drag down the virtuous. 216 Even the city's churches were dangerous; in the jostling crowds, during the long, hot hours of the all-night vigils, even in ostentatious displays of charity, a virgin might by lured by the siren song of outward piety while her virtue was systematically compromised. 217 The home was the only safe-haven: it had the purity of the temple itself, and the defensive qualities of a military bastion. 2IS Before leaving the home, the ascetic should arm herself with prayer as if she were going to battle. 219 Yet even within the home, the temptations of the dinner table, the loose-talk of guests, even innocent games might ensnare the truly virtuous. 22o Within the home, it was the bedroom (cubiculum) that was the true tower of virtue. With language from the Song of Songs, Jerome paints the cubiculum as at once a remote tower and an earthly paradise, a bastion of individual purity and the nuptial chamber that would witness the ascetic's consummation with her Christ-bridegroom. 221
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The house or the cubiculum was also the imagined site of the ascetic's daily rituals: here she should rise from her bed in the night to pray and sing the psalms; here, too she should kneel for her daytime prayers at the third, sixth, and ninth hour, and perform the lucernarium at nightfall. 222 For those truly mindful of their virtue, prayers to the martyrs were best made not in the crowded martyr shrines outside the city walls, but in the home. 223 For Jerome, the home of the ascetic was both a symbolic and an actual church, its protective walls guaranteeing the ascetic's virtue and sheltering the daily rituals that nourished ascetic discipline. Elite ascetics may have given more monumental expression to Jerome's ideal, carrying out their devotions in domestic churches. We have already mentioned the church of Melania the Younger, heiress to the great Valerian fortune and an ardent ascetic. The place is famously described by her biographer, who details her doomed pregnancy. 224 Due to her pregnant state, she was unable to attend the vigils at Laurence's martyr shrine and turned instead to her own church, keeping an alternate, solitary vigil inside her own home. For Melania's biographer, the chapel cocoons the pregnant ascetic in her piety, protecting her from prying eyes and serving as the solitary witness to her night-long prayers. Alternatively, these domestic churches might serve as the communal devotional space for a group oflike-minded ascetics. Anicia Faltonia Proba, possible patroness of the church of Felix, hosted virgins and other ascetics in her home on the Pincian; aristocrats like Albina and her daughter Marcella, held a similar ascetic salon in their Aventine mansion, while the ladies Lea and Paula eventually sponsored similar groupS.22 5 Marcella and Melania also seem to have crafted quieter versions of the same ascetic-aristocratic household in their suburban villas, continuing to pray and study in a more bucolic context. 226 These widows began to tailor their guest lists around ascetically minded aristocratic women, such as Ambrose' sister Marcellina and Paula herself, who spent her first ascetic years visiting her friends on the Aventine. 227 Scholars and ascetics counted these women as patrons, frequenting their houses to dispense advice and talk biblical exegesis. Jerome reports that Marcella and Albina's Aventine mansion, with its ascetic visitors, dependents, and slaves, required a bevy of clergy and monks to administer to its ritual needs. 228 While Marcella's house is not specified as having a church and Proba's is uncertain, such ascetic homes may very well have maintained some kind of ritual space, both for the use of the eager ascetics and for their own dependents and slaves. 229 Jerome's stark descriptions of straw palettes, sackcloth, and the cellulae or monasterii of his protegees would seem to describe a wholly new kind of living space, indeed, the first "monasteries. "230 Yet it was monasticism more attitudinal than physical. Peeping through the panegyrics appear the social, even the religious structures of the ancient aristocratic house, all left virtually unchanged by its owner's spiritual transformation. The hierarchies of these ascetic houses
ROME
were those of birth and blood, not election or length of commitment; Albina led her ascetic household until old age or death forced its management on her daughter, Marcella. 231 Most of the members were part of the same domus, either blood kin or servants. 232 Scholarly outsiders, like Jerome, relied on their hosts' donations and gifts to support their various projects, just as clients had relied upon their patrons for centuries.233 Indeed, Jerome and Pelagius' role as holy man-in-residence had been anticipated a century earlier by Plotinus, for the Neoplatonist didaskaleioi were similarly centered around the homes of the great. 234 For Plotinus' followers Gemina and Chione, just as for Albina and Paula, the most potent spiritual communities were those that gathered not in the temple or the church, but in one's own domus around a spiritual master.235 As was the case with Plotinus' circle, spiritual realignment did not necessarily mean permanent spatial displacement: in both cases only occasionally are we told of nonfamily members actually abandoning their own aristocratic homes to take up residence with fellow philosophers or ascetics, although the practice was far more common once these people, particularly the Christians, left Rome. 236 The repeated, tantalizing descriptions of servants, the reception of exalted visitors (now including churchmen), even the much-derided banquets, which Jerome's correspondents are said to avoid but other ascetics attend, all describe the aristocratic domus in full flower.237 Indeed, were it not for the wane face and simple dress of the hostess and the constant murmur of prayer, non-ascetically minded visitors might have found them a rather dull version of their own homes.
Contesting the Private in Rome ReadingJerome's encomiums to Marcella's pious household or Eustochium's bedroom sanctuary, we run the risk of falling under their quiet spell, and concluding that the piety of households was a muted countermelody that ran beneath the great fugue of public Christian life. We would be wrong to do so. The houses of Rome during these last decades of the fourth century were cacophonous spaces, where shouts often drown out the murmurs. It was in Rome's homes, as much or more as its churches, that the great theological issues of the age were debated and groups or individuals expounding those theologies met and prayed. But homes were not simply spaces to shout in, they had also become spaces to shout about. The very qualities that marked domestic churches and rituals - familial and patronal structuration, ritual independenceplaced them in uncertain relationship with their bishop. The houses of Rome had thus become both spaces for and of a powerful dialectic. The three great doctrinal debates to rock Rome in those years - the validity of Origen's works, the primacy of celibacy over marriage, and the question of free will - were contested largely before what Jerome would disparagingly call the senatus matronarum, the city's Christian aristocratic women and their
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domus. 238 These final three decades of the fourth century were extraordinary years in Rome, when Ambrose, Jerome, Priscillian, Augustine, Jovinian, Pelagius, and Rufinus all walked the city's streets and crisscrossed the receiving rooms of elite Christian homes, their eager patrons soliciting "expert" advice and thereby stimulating their pens. A series of careful studies on these controversies, Origenism, Jovinianism, and Pelagianism, has followed the tortuous paths left by letters and prosopography, tracing them to the homes of the city's great families. 239 These homes had become theological battlegrounds, and the lines of combat were drawn around networks of blood and friendship as much as biblical exegesis. Jerome and Rufinus' debate over Origen's orthodoxy pitted the Aventine against the Caelian, as Marcella and Paula's family took up the cause against the Valerii and its international web of friends and family. 240 Jerome employed Marcella's cousin, Pammachius, and the loyal Domnio in his in absentia attacks on Jovinian, not least because Jovinian in turn seems to have visited these same homes to make his case for the equal status of the married and the celibate. 241 IfPammachius removed some ofJerome's nastier works from circulation and encouraged him to edit others, it was as much to preserve his own reputation among his fellow aristocrats as it was to aid his acerbic friend. 242 By the time that Pelagius came to town around 398 the roads between the Aventine, Caelian, and Pincian mansion districts had become well-trodden and their hierarchies clear: Pelagius went straight to the top, and his wooing of the Anician heiresses, Anicia Iuliana and daughter Demetrias, would send positive ripples south to Paulinus at Nola (a friend of Melania the Elder) and to Melania the Younger, in exile in North Africa. 243 Jerome, whose Roman familiae were by then largely dead or, like Pammachius, entertaining Pelagianist priests, was consulted by the elder Anicia only a year later, and even Augustine waited until the powerful family had departed his shores and the Pelagian juggernaut had picked up real momentum before taking up an anti-Pelagian cudgel in earnest. 244 These debates were hosted, indeed even prompted, by the new aristocratic ascetics, intently pursuing a Christian form of elitism but uncertain as to its hows and whys. The questions they directed to their spiritual advisors, in the living room or by mail, were self-oriented ones, just as had been the questions posed by a previous generation of Neoplatonist devotees: How can I, as a married woman, live a holy life? How shall I raise my daughter so that she might become one of Christ's elite? How do I reconcile my regime of fasting with the Lord's communion?245 The answers ranged far wider and deeper than simple self-help manuals and their eventual incorporation, or not, into orthodox doctrine can sometimes obscure their more specific origins. Anicia Iuliana, Marcella, or Pammachius did not invite aJerome or Pelagius into their home to air his views; they wanted specific answers to questions of ascetic
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daily life and its broader meanings. That is, these debates did not simply take place in the home, they were about homes and Christian life in them. The apparent, troubling similarities between ascetic and non-ascetic homes - the vast reception spaces, the servile population, the comings and goings of invited guests - made it imperative to get the less tangible meaning of action right: the significance of fasting, the aims of true charity, the nature of a real Christian elite. 246 Doctrine was enfolded into daily ascetic practice, both as a raison d'etre and as a defensive weapon in the daily, velvet-glove melees that were the new testing ground of Christian aristocratic identity. 24 7 These debates in and about homes seem to have left the city's bishops largely in the lurch. 248 It is noteworthy that Albina and Marcella's ascetic project, one of the first in the city, as well as Paula's, were inspired not by Rome's bishop, but by charismatic outsiders, the exiled Alexandrian bishop, Peter, and Epiphanius ofSalamis, who brought with them inspiring tales of Egypt's monastic superheroes. 249 This taste for the exotic holy man was nothing new: Plotinus and Porphyry were feted (and followed) by Roman elites, while one clarissima, tormented by memories of a past life as a servant in a brothel, summoned the healing powers of the Athenian Neoplatonist Nestorius. 250 But while bishop Damasus was Jerome's sponsor during the latter's three-year Roman sojourn and likely lingered in the same reception rooms in search of pious donations, neither he nor his successors play more than walk-on roles in the enfolding drama of elite asceticism. We are told that Marcella was consecrated a virgin, although the bishop himself is never mentioned; bishops never appear in the elite ascetic salons addressed by Jerome, nor do letters written to bishops allude to a wider, lay aristocratic audience. Melania the Younger's biographer makes no mention of bishops advising the young ascetic, only "holy men," nor do bishops ever appear at the couple's estate in the Roman suburbs. 251 It even seems to have been left to the cleric "Ambrosiaster," not his boss Damasus, to defend the prerogatives of the clergy over ascetics, particularly women, and to warn against the potential divisive affects of elitist asceticism. 252 So sparse are the traces of episcopal presence in the ascetic salons that one wonders if the later fifth- and sixth-century Gesta martyrum, in which bishops are forever appearing in households, dispensing advice, and performing liturgies, were actually an attempt to write back into aristocratic lives an episcopal presence which, in the fourth century at least, was largely absent. When the episcopate did appear in these homes it was often as watchdogs and castigators. Ambrosiaster took a cautious stance over the problem, one in keeping with his likely post as presbyter: reading back into the Pauline epistles the bifurcated public and private churches of his own Rome ("duas ecclesias memorat, publicam et domesticam ... "), he admitted a kind of parity between them. Nonetheless, he carefully noted that it was the presence of a presbyter which defined any kind of ecclesia. 253 Gentle remonstrance,
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TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
however, sometimes gave way to suspicion and violence. Suspecting schismatic tendencies, Damasus had the ascetic priest Macarius ousted from a domestic vigil, beating him so badly he later died. Jovinian, who made the tragic mistake of accusing bishop Siricius, as well as Ambrose, of being Manichees, may have himself been the aim of a 389 anti-Manichean edict. 254 The 391 edict prohibiting heretical "conventicles, public or hidden," might also have been tacitly aimed at Jovinian's supporters, coming as it did immediately before Siricius' synod against him in 393. 255 In 398, Jovinian was further ousted from Rome's suburb, where he was almost certainly being hosted in aristocratic villas. 256 Aristocrats like Octaviana and Hesperius, well-connected at court, avid readers of Tertullian, and founders of a private cult at the tombs of Processus and Martinianus on the Via Aurelia, may have felt the bite of that same ban on suburban conventicles and returned to their home in North Mrica. 257 The ambivalence, even occasional hostility of Rome's bishops to domestic worship and ascetic salons may derive from the broader trajectory of privately based religiosity versus episcopal power. 258 Be it the extra-familial tituli or the expanding numbers of aristocratic domestic churches, Rome's private Christianity tended to be a rather public affair. The titular community centers drew their support from individuals but their worship base was drawn from neighborhoods and families linked by friendship and dependency. The great domus of Rome were urban stages upon which the drama of status was everyday performed. In the house-mass which attracted a superstar visiting bishop, the shrine which advertised the relics of unknown martyrs and the salons of hairshirted ascetics, domestic Christianity likewise assumed the broad, expansive quality of the domus itself, and even reaching outside it. This potentially inclusive domus-based piety revolved on an erratic orbit, moving both in and out of episcopal spheres of influence. In matters of money - pious giving or management of testamentary gifts - elites and bishops might move in harmony; in the broad-based domus structure of their domestic churches and ascetic groups, or in the patronage of priests and charismatic scholars, aristocrats might spin totally out of episcopal control. The breadth and permeability of the Roman Christian private made it a public force to be reckoned with and Roman bishops were ever seeking to cajole it into a more submissive, more controllable shape. Rome of the late fourth century was a city under enormous pressures. Individualistic impulses such as asceticism and the titular churches clashed with a centralizing episcopate and new theologies which sought to bring every Christian under the same salvific umbrella. At the same time, the rising numbers of converts necessitated a new wedge be driven between the Church and the world: bishops like Siricius imagined a clerical wedge, laymen like Pelagius, a small, perfect ascetic corps.259 Homes, particularly homes as sacred spaces, lay in the vortex where these forces collided. As sites of elite piety,
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they were the well-spring of episcopal fund-raising efforts; as spaces of ascetic elitism and ritual independence, they formed their own islands. To build a domestic church or to partake of the reserved eucharist in Rome during those years was to jump into a whirlpool.
CONSTANTINOPLE
When Constantine, spear in hand, marked out the boundaries of a new capital on the Bosphorus in May of 330, he trumpeted his foundation as the "New Rome."260 By "new," of course, he meant not an imitation, but a radical alternative. The new capital on the Bosphorus was a very different kind of city from that on the Tiber: its elites were of a wholly different breed; its houses, indeed, its whole urban fabric had far more in common with other eastern cities than those of Rome; and the unfolding of its Christian history and its Christian topography vis-a.-vis those elites and that fabric took place along very different lines. Nonetheless, in Constantinople, like in Rome, the private, particularly the private of elite homes, played a fundamental role in shaping the city's sacred topography. Although the physical remains of these churches have vanished beneath modern Istanbul, and the textual descriptions are often much later and interwoven with legend and innuendo, enough exists to paint an evocative, if not always detailed picture of Christian life in the new capital. Already in the mid fourth century, private neighborhood churches, private martyr shrines, and eventually, private ascetic and charitable foundations formed the backbone of Constantinopolitan Christian life. The nature of that "private," however, was as distinct as the city itself, as was its relationship to the various concomitant "publics," the episcopal and the imperial. While Roman elite homes often displayed a studied indifference to or subtle frisson with their bishop, Constantinople's private churches, martyr shrines, and monasteries were major players in the episcopal scene, supporting or undermining the city's succession of bishops, who in turn used them to navigate the treacherous sea of episcopal politics.
Fourth-Century Realities
Constantine did not simply found a new city in 324: he began the effective erasure of an earlier one. Ancient Byzantium was a small, sleepy town living off fishing and excise taxes and aside from a doomed rebellion under Septimius Severus, the city's long history was an uneventful one, so much so that later historians would feel obliged to invent one. 261 To a large extent, Constantine's advent swept the city's slate clean. By more than doubling its size, re-framing its street grid, and setting up a second focal neighborhood near his new wall circuit, he and his successors would essentially form a new city, leaving the old
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as scattered bits of memory. 262 Most formative, however, was not the building projects, but the human diaspora that followed the emperor. By signaling his intent to craft a new capital, building a palace, and actually spending some significant chunks of time there, Constantine would eventually bring the court to Constantinople. 263 The slow transplant of the imperial bureaucracy to the Bosophorus was perhaps Constantine's most important legacy. Emperors, courtiers, lawyers, ecclesiastical advisors - the crush of the imperial court would touch every aspect of urban life, particularly its Christian development. This process, however, took time. Constantine's successor emperors didn't evince his enthusiasm for the city, spending their time elsewhere. 264 As they delayed, so, too, did the bureaucratic elites who moved in dribs and drabs to fill the empty lots between the old city and Constantine's new walls. Only by the time of Theodosius, himself an avowed devotee of the city, would these elites settle here in earnest. 26s These were not the elites of Rome, tracing their lineage and their wealth back to the Scipios and Gracchi. Constantinople's rich were nouveau: army brats, eastern provincials, even Saracen princesses. 266 Either novi homines or sons of novi homines they owed their rise to the emperor - his army or his bureaucracy - and their fortunes and identities were tied umbilically to the court. It was a group who stared intently forward, navigating an evershifting bureaucratic, political, and even theological sea. The abiding sense of tradition that shaped old Roman identities, particularly traditions of family cult and old-fashioned pietas, were for them items of only passing antiquarian interest. Cut loose from tradition these elites were likewise cut loose in space. Emigres from the empire over, they came to a Wild West-type city. Constantinople of the fourth century would have been a city of sporadic, frenetic construction and empty lots: in short, it was a city for the taking. 267 Encouraged by incentives, which provided free bread to those who built houses, and requirements, which mandated all those who rented or managed imperial estates in the East to build a house in Constantinople, Constantinopolitan elites did not simply build homes, they built miniature neighborhoods. 268 Indeed, an allotment of the civic food supply was calculated around these oikoi and their largely aristocratic impresarios. 269 Although it is far from clear, textual sources seem to describe the Constantinopolitan oikos as a combination of a single-family domus with a multi-family apartment (insula) building, the whole built around a central courtyard. 270 Although likely very different in size and density, similar combination domus-insula residences have been excavated at Ephesus and Pergamon, suggesting a type increasingly common throughout the eastern Mediterranean. 271 In Ephesus, for instance, the fourth-century phases of earlier terrace houses included an aristocratic peristyle house built on one or more levels and provided with its own entrances, surrounded above and below by smaller apartments, with shops and workshops on the street level.
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It is unclear to what degree Constantinopolitan aristocratic residences shared these characteristics: the few pieces of elite houses excavated in the city display the same panoply of grand reception rooms as do their Roman cousins, but outside these rooms, almost nothing is known of the overall houses' form.27 2 At first glance, these would seem to be the residences the sources term palatia, although the terminology is inconsistently applied, such that the empresses Placidia, Eudocia, and Pulcheria are said of have built domus, whereas the empress Flacilla lived in a palatia. 273 These imprecisions oflanguage may suggest that domus and palatia differed principally in size, luxury, and the status of their owners, not necessarily in their social demography. Indeed, the description of the heiress-turned-nun Olympias' oikos adjacent to St. Sophia seems likewise to consist of an entire neighborhood, complete with a reception hall, baths, and a milP74 The elite Constantinopolitan oikos might thus potentially house the elites themselves, their immediate dependents, plus tenants, shopkeepers, visitors, and customers, the whole forming a teaming house-neighborhood. These great complexes, the product of cheap land and eventual rapid urban growth, would form the heart of the city's neighborhoods, whose names were taken from the elite families who lived in them and built them. Thus, the oikos of Aurelianus gave birth to the Aurelianes neighborhood, that of Promotius to Promotou. 275 Imperial families also contributed to this topography; beginning with the Theodosian dynasty, individual princesses maintained their own palace complexes outside the Great Palace downtown. 276 Scattered throughout the city, particularly in its tenth region, these imperial oikoi were probably particularly grand versions of the same house-neighborhood phenomenon. 277
Of course, elites might not only live in their eponymous neighborhood; as they did in Rome, the wealthiest divided their time between a variety of houses, including suburban villas, either outside the Constantinian and later, Theodosian walls, or in the more distant suburbs. 278 Yet even these suburban properties might become centers in their own right, like Rufinus' great villa at Chalcedon, taking their names and their impetus from their elite founders. 279 If the imperial and courtly adventus effectively rewrote Constantinople's urban topography, it had similarly dramatic affects on its Christian life. Byzantium's Christian community prior to Constantine's foundation seems to have been a small one of probably recent vintage. Although a vast later mythology obscures the matter, its earliest reliably attested bishops emerge in the first years of the fourth century, presiding over a small, probably poor community.280 Like the city itself, Byzantium's small Christian community was of no particular regional or international significance, with no long traditions or strong leadership. Indeed, the nearby metropolis of Chalcedon, although it would soon become a suburb of the great metropolis, had its own more ancient episcopate which would remain resolutely distinct from its upstart neighbor.
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TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
The transformation of Byzantium to Constantinople would thrust the city's small episcopate onto a contentious international stage. Yet its relative newness and lack of power (it remained a suffragan bishopric of Heraclea until 38 I) meant that its bishops were frequently propelled along that stage by the city's two major powers: the emperor and the Constantinopolitan elite. The frenetic succession of bishops between 337 and 341, beginning with Paul (337), Eusebius of Ni co media (338), Paul and Macedonius together (341-2), and finally Macedonius (342-60), was driven by a succession of imperial fiats, as well as regional episcopal wrangling. 28 ! By the end of Macedonius' reign, increasing numbers of aristocratic emigres would begin to enter the scene. Both through their proximity to the emperor, as well as through church-building and patronage of the city's monks, they soon became bishop-makers in their own right. 282 Most of the city's bishops were not only short-lived, but outside imports: it was pious aristocrats who provided the real thread of Christian continuity in the new capital, aristocrats like Saturninus, who lived in the city since the time of Constantius Il, or Aurelianus, whose career spanned the whole of the Theodosian dynasty.28 3 These were careful, deliberate men and women, who weathered doctrinal swings, usurpations, and watched many a bishop come and go. Even so eloquent an outsider as John Chrysostom would find his own fate ultimately decided not in the episcopal palace, but in the mansion of an elite Christian matron. 284
Constantinople's Christian Topography: A City oJ Private Churches When Constantine inaugurated his new city on the Bosphorus in May of 330, he would have found the physical presence of Christianity here far less impressive than that in Rome. Although the almost total absence of archaeological evidence and mythologization of Constantine's legacy by later sources have obscured the matter, an optimistic assessment suggests that the preConstantinian city had a main church at present-day Hagia Irene, and perhaps a small shrine to the local martyr Akakios. 285 To what degree Constantine altered this meager picture remains uncertain. The emperor's most ambitious project was a private one, a great mausoleum constructed at the northwest edge of the new city, along its major northern road. 286 Completely buried now by the Fatih Mosque, its form remains a matter of some conjecture. The current communis opinio tends to favor Cyril Mango's reconstruction of a typical circular mausoleum, in the center of which was the emperor's sarcophagus and an altar, surrounded by twelve "chests" (eijKOS) to the apostles. 287 Seemingly only in 357 or 359/360 would Constantius II append a cruciform church to this mausoleum and stock it with apostolic relics, translated from the East with great fanfare. 288 Aside from this one unambiguously Constantinian project, it remains wholly unclear what other churches the emperor contributed to his new city: he may
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have reconstructed the early church of Hagia 1rene, enlarged the shrine to Hagios Akakios, and built a large church to Hagios Mokios outside the city walls, but the evidence is all mid fifth century and later, well after the Constantinian myth-machine was set into motion. 289 Nor is it clear that Constantine began the first church ofHagia Sophia, consecrated under the reign of his son, Constantius 1I. 290 Thus, even by positive estimates the Constantinian dynasty seemed little interested in providing the city a network of churches, even burial churches, as it had done in Rome. 29 ' This relative paucity of imperial church-building persisted throughout the fourth century and it is only with the advent of the Theodosian dynasty that emperors went in for church building with any kind of vigor (Fig. 26). Theodosius himselfis only definitively associated with two churches, that ofJohn the Baptist at the Hebdomon outside the city in which he placed the Forerunner's head, and the restructuring of the church of the Anastasia or Anastasis, about which we will have more to say presently.292 Pulcheria (399-453), Arcadius' daughter and a great relic collector, would be associated with a church to saint Lawrence and three Marian churches in the Chalkoprateia, the Blachernae, and the Hodegetria. 293 Aelia Eudocia (d. 460), Theodosius II wife, is credited with building the first church to Polyeuktos, and Licinia Eudoxia (4 22-C.462), their daughter, probably began the church of Hagia Euphemia en tois Olybriou. 294 An anonymous basilica uncovered in the modern Topkapi Sarayi area may also have been built at this time. 295 Bishops were even more lackluster builders than emperors: only two churches from this period are attributed to episcopal intervention: the church dedicated to the Constantinopolitan bishop Paul is said to have been founded by Macedonius, while Sozomen credits Chrysostom with a church dedicated to two of Paul's secretaries put to death by Macedonius. 296 One product of such lacunose public church-building was the somewhat flexible location of the city's cathedral. The oldest and grandest churches, first Hagia 1rene and later Hagia Sophia, were the major foci of episcopal presence from the early fourth century. But Constantine's Holy Apostles served as a third pole of attraction; as emperors were drawn to it for its juxtaposition of imperial tombs and apostolic relics, so bishops followed, and more than one episcopal ordination took place here instead of in the downtown "cathedral."297 The city's many doctrinal disputes spawned their own diverse episcopal topography as rival claimants to the episcopal throne located their cathedra in separate churches, like Paul in a church he may have founded for the purpose, or Gregory Nazianzen in his self-promoted house-church called the Anastasia. 298 The modest quantity and nebulous character of imperial and episcopally sponsored projects contrasted with a vigorous tradition of private church building (Fig. 27). As Gilbert Dagron has carefully documented, by the mid fifth century and onwards, the vast majority of Constantinopolitan churches, monasteries, and other pious foundations were founded and controlled by
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TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
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Theotokos Blachernae H. Laurentius Notarii Theotokos Chalkoprateia H. lrene H. Sophia H. Mokios John the Baptist at the Hebdomon Theotokos Hodegetria
urban elites. 299 In fact, the trend seems to start somewhat earlier in the later decades of the fourth century, and was perhaps, as was suggested for Rome, initiated by Constantine's own projects. 300 The great dearth ofConstantinopolitan archaeology, however, leaves texts the only source for this phenomenon, texts which are frequently shrouded in legend. By the time the tenth-century Patria and other urban histories were written, the private church, built by a pious aristocrat on his or her property, had become the stuff of legend. 3D! The Patria's litany of private foundations, attributed to Constantine or the
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Holy Apostles H. Stephanos/Konstantianae H. Polyeuktos H. Euphemia en tois Olybriou Akakios Anastasia Private Chapels in Imperial Palace Saturninus' House H. Stephanos/Aurelianus H. Stephanos/Novatians Thyrsus I Fourty Martyrs
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city's other famous aristocratic denizens, requires careful sifting to separate fact from later myth. 302 The tendency for neighborhoods to assume the aristocratic names of their most famous denizens, and thus for neighboring churches to carry the same personalllocative appellations, further complicates the issue. Without any clarifying archaeological evidence, it is impossible to know the size of these churches, nor their spatial relationship with the founder's oikos complex. Despite these caveats, enough can be gleaned from reliable sources and a few detailed descriptions to suggest a city teeming with private churches,
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27. Map, fourthand fifth-century "private" basilica construction in Constantinople (after Berger 1988).
TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
churches not only funded and controlled by the elite, but constructed within their oikoi. As in Rome, it may have been Constantine or other early imperial precedents who set the tone. Constantine's most famous project, the Holy Apostles, was, in its first manifestation, a personal mausoleum which doubled as a church. 303 The "chests" to the Twelve Apostles that surrounded the imperial sarcophagus seem to have been intended to surround the emperor with a saintly court, both including the emperor in devotions made to the apostles and making explicit Constantine's own claims to apostolic, even Christ-like status after death. 304 The mausoleum itself was flanked by porticos and surrounded by royal houses (OIKOl j3ocrlAElOl) and baths.3 05 While Eusebius' description is rather vague, it is possible that Constantine had placed his mausoleum within a second palace, much like Diocletian and Maxentius before him.3 06 Perhaps not coincidentally, it was in the vicinity of this complex so many later emperors and empresses would construct their second homes. 307 The emperor was also said to have had a church in the Great Palace. Aside from its magnificent sixth-century mosaics, almost nothing remains of this massive imperial complex that lay against the east side of the hippodrome, not far from St. Irene and St. Sophia. 308 We are thus reliant on the less-thanreliable Eusebius for a description of this palace church. Eusebius claims that Constantine: " ... like someone participating in sacred mysteries, shut himself at fixed times each day in secret places within his royal palace chambers, and would converse with his God and kneeling in suppliant petition would plead for the objects of his prayers. On days of the Feasts of the Savior, intensifying the rigor, he would perform the divine mysteries with his whole strength of soul and body, on the one hand wholly dedicated to purity of life, and on the other initiating the festival for all."3 0 9 The "secret places" to which Constantine betook himself do not suggest a church per se, although the implication of a festal mass in the same place does imply some liturgical furnishings. Eusebius took great pains to paint Constantine as a pious Christian, often by emphasizing his personal devotions, and this statement on its own would not be particularly persuasive. 3Io On the other hand, the bishop of Caesarea had traveled to Constantinople in 337 and may have been privy to at least the palace festal masses. 3II A century later, Sozomen also claimed that Constantine had built an oratory (EVKT~plOS OIKOS) in the palace. 3I2 While Sozomen was another great Constantinian panegyrist, his testimony does suggest an oratory existed in the palace at least by the mid fifth century. One wonders if, like the Sessorian palace church in Rome, this oratory may have also held a relic of the True Cross: a variety of later fourth- and fifthcentury sources attest to a fragment being taken to Constantinople. Socrates claims it was encased in the base of the Column of Constantine. 313 Theodoret,
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writing slightly later, claims it was held in the palaceY4 Attempting to resolve these contradictions, Theodore Lector's chronicle of C.5I8 stated that the relics lay in both places, but added that the palace relic was encased in a cross-shaped reliquary and carried in imperial processionsYs Theodore's report sounds very much like an eye-witness account, and thus, whether through Constantinian agency or not, it would seem a relic of the True Cross had entered the palace by the mid to late fifth century. As in Rome, this relic had a certain public presence, but was explicitly claimed as imperial property. 316 While not a proper palace church, another ad hoc shrine existed in the palace during the mid fifth century. Peter, a young Georgian I?rince, was sent to Constantinople in 421 as a royal hostage to guarantee his father's treaties with the RomansY7 Raised in the palace, Peter was struck by the religious zeal of Theodosius 11 and Eudocia, and began to practice ascetic discipline in his rooms. His helpmates in this process were relics of unnamed Persian martyrs brought with him from his homeland: "These he had laid with all honor in a shrine in the same room where he performed his pious devotions. There he would sleep before them on the ground and perform sacred rites with candles and incense, hymns and prayers. And when he brought them all honor and delight, he saw them many times, as they sang and watched and prayed with him."3 18 When the time came to flee his golden prison for the Holy Land, Peter plotted his escape over these relics which acted as a kind ofjamming device, preventing his enemies from learning his plans. The unofficial relic shrine of the pious young prince could not have been unknown to the emperor and while Peter's excessive asceticism may have provoked some worry, his shrine seems to have excited no comment. Palace relics were thus seemingly no oddity by the mid fifth century. When the. trickle of elite emigres to the new capital had grown to a flood toward the end of the fourth century, aristocrats began to build their own private churches. At least one of these was explicitly inspired by a Constantinian private project, and as at Rome, imperial precedence may have proved formative. Also, like their Roman colleagues, Constantinopolitan aristocrats built most of their churches to accommodate martyr cult, monastic enterprises, or a combination of both. For instance, the aristocrat Eusebia, whom we have already met in the introduction to this book, constructed a martyrium-cum-mausoleum outside the Constantinopolitan city walls, probably in the Helanianae district, in which she placed the relics of the Forty Martyrs as well as her own coffin.3 19 How she obtained the relics is not clear: one suspects connections with the landed aristocracy of Asia Minor, like Basil of Caesarea' s family, who had been collecting them since the 360s.32° Sozomen, who saw the structure as it was re-excavated
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by the empress Pulcheria, describes an above-ground structure with a subterranean tomb chamber/reliquary. Upon her death Eusebia transformed the estate into a monastery, the monks' house of prayer laying adjacent to the mausoleum/shrine so that they might include her in their prayers. Eusebia's closest friend, the wife of the praetorian prefect Caesarius, was also buried there.32 I Caesarius subsequently purchased the estate and added a church to the martyr Thyrsus, another Asia Minor martyr. 322 While the mausoleum eventually fell into disrepair and disappeared from view, the church remained functional throughout the Middle Ages. 323 In 394, Rufinus, Caesarius' predecessor as prefect, completed a similar project on his estate at ChalcedonY4 Adjacent to his villa he built a great martyrium to the apostles Peter and Paul, whose relics he had obtained during a trip to Rome some five years previously. Attached or beside the martyrium he built his own mausoleum.325 This format of apostolic martyrium with attached mausoleum was clearly inspired by Constantius' recent reconfiguration of Constantine's Holy Apostles, which, after Constantius 11 rebuilt it, now likewise consisted of an apostolic martyrium and attached mausoleum. 326 Rufinus didn't stop there, however, but also arranged for a troop of monks, imported from Egypt specially for the purpose, to take up residence at the site, presumably using his Apostoleion for their devotions and, like Eusebia's group, eventually to pray for his soul. 327 Like Eusebia's estate-martyrium, the project didn't survive the praetorian prefect's untimely death and fell into ruin, but some years later a small group of monks would re-inhabit the ruins and build one of the area's most powerful monasteriesy8 A series of churches to saint Stephen were likewise seemingly private projects placed in elite residence complexes. While the literary tradition is extremely complex and rife with contradictions, it seems to have been aristocrats and empresses, not bishops, who sponsored the earliest Stephen cult in the city. The first church was probably built by praetorian prefect and consul of 400, Aurelianus, on his property possibly near the Sigma.329 Although one tradition claims that its patron was not able to procure Stephen's relics and had to make do with the body of the monk Isaac instead, the dedication to the protomartyr was maintained for centuries, leading one to wonder if the monk's historians may have squashed reports of its relics to emphasize Isaac's presence there. 330 Another church to Stephen in this same area, allegedly built by a so-called Novatianist group, was probably also a private project. 33I Paul Magdalino has suggested the empress Aelia Eudocia, who is credited with bringing the relics of Stephen from Palestine, may have intended her new palace church in the tenth region, later dedicated to Polyeuktos, to hold the relics of the protomartyr. 332 These relics seem to have wound up in the empress Pulcheria's church to Lawrence and then probably translated again in the early sixth century by Anicia Iuliana to a church adjacent or within her massive palace near the baths of Constantius. 333
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Given the popularity of private martyria, both within and without the city walls, one wonders ifsome of the city's more poorly documented shrines were also private projects. The shrine of Akakios, one of the city's few homegrown and possibly pre-Constantinian cults, is described as lying within a "great oikos" called Karya, in the tenth region near the Golden Horn. 334 The oikos was named after a walnut tree that stood within its courtyard and is vividly described in a hair-raising tale involving the emperor Arcadius. 335 Toward the end of his life the emperor came to pray at the shrine, and the denizens of the oikos flocked out to greet him; when the entire house was emptied, it collapsed, but as all were outside watching the emperor, none were killed. Again, Karya seems to have been another of these multifamily apartment-like dwellings, arranged around a courtyard, in the center of which was the shrine to Akakios. 336 Although Constantine is said to have built it, one wonders if it was not the owners and/or inhabitants of the oikos who actually controlled it. Similar questions arise over the shadowy martyr shrines named in the denunciation of the monk Eutyches in 45 1. 337 Were some of these, such as the martyria of Celerina or Philip, actually named for their patrons, not the saints they accommodated? As a saint, Celerina was one of two rather obscure North African martyrs who never subsequently appears in the city's urban liturgies; the name might better refer to the patroness, perhaps wife of an imperial bureaucrat under Honorius. 338 Similarly, Philip's cult does not seem to have entered the city until the emperor Anastasius built a church to the apostle in the sixth century, but the name Philip was a popular one among imperial bureaucrats. 339 Indeed, given the proliferation of these cults throughout the city, Theodosius' 386 law limiting the construction of such shrines to actual martyr's graves may have been aimed specifically at Constantinopolitan elites. 340 Also beginning in the later fourth century, private churches were built to serve monastic communities. 341 Some, like the great monastery of Olympias, built adjacent to the south side of the church of Hagia Sophia, were family monasteries. 342 Here Olympias, already a deaconess of the church, used one of her several urban homes to house an ascetic community group composed of her sisters, relatives, and their servants, as well as other elite women. Her anonymous Vita describes the complex as including both a house where the ascetics lived, as well as all the shops and baths along Hagia Sophia's south side: in other words, a typical Constantinopolitan oikos. Olympias had her relative Elisanthia, and her sisters Martyria and Palladia consecrated as deaconesses so that they could perform a perpetual round of "praises," almost certainly liturgical offices. 343 Like Marcella's establishment in Rome, rule over the monastery passed through blood lines, from Olympias, to her relatives Marina and later Elisanthia. 344 In its similarities with Roman mansions/monasteries, Olympias' monastery was quite unusual. Most private monastic establishments were built not to
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accommodate elites-turned-monks, but outside, nonfamily ascetics. The aristocrats Saturninus (consul of 383) and Victor (consul of 369) both built monasteries for the monk Isaac on their estates in the Psamathea district. 345 Saturninus' was deemed preferable, and Isaac moved in; eventually Saturninus would turn the whole property over to him and the estate would become one the city's most powerful early monasteries. 346 Interestingly, Saturninus seemingly lost the bid to bury the monk, for Isaac found his final resting place in Aurelianus' church to saint Stephen. 347 Promotus, magister equitum from 388 until his murder in 391, would eventually host a monastery on the site of his home, although since it appears as such in the sources only after his death, it may have been a testamentary endowment. 348 Various of the monastic establishments named in the Eutyches trial seem likewise to have been named for their founders who were sometimes, but not always, also their hegoumenoi - the monasteries of Elias and Thalassius are two of many that seem to betray their private origins. 349 Of quasi-monastic status were the other types of charitable foundations which appeared in increasing numbers in the fifth century, such as pensioner's homes and hospitals. The Patria describes many of these as elite foundations built on the personal properties of their founders: the retirement home built by Florentius (cos. 429?) is one of many examples, although the names and dates associated with these foundations frequently cannot be verified, or are simply muddled. 350 By the time the Theodosian princesses undertook their great churchbuilding projects in the mid fifth century, private church building seems to have become so de rigueur that several of their projects were likewise built within their extensive imperial palace compounds. 35I The multiplication of imperial residences around this same period no doubt also played a role, as each palace would seem to require its own locus sacer. Thus the "second homes" clustered in the tenth and eleventh regions of the city produced a similarly dense throng of splendid churches. For instance, the empress Aelia Eudocia built the first church of Hagios Polyeuktos (which may have originally been designed for Stephen's relics), almost certainly in or near her home north of the Constantian baths. 3P The church became a family project and was rebuilt to magnificent proportions by the empress' great-granddaughter, Anicia Iuliana. Eudocia's daughter, Licinia Eudoxia also seems to have followed in her mother's footsteps: she built a church to saint Euphemia in her son-inlaw Olybrius' property near the Philadelphion, where it also became a family church, cared for by first her daughter Placidia and Olybrius himself, and later by their daughter Anicia Iuliana. 353 It is noteworthy that so many of these projects were not only built in family compounds, but were treated as family heirlooms, passed from mother to daughter. These were acts not just of imperial euergetism, but familial commemoration, the connection between church and family reinforced by elaborate inscriptions praising the family's piety, and the immediate proximity of the family domus. 354
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These private foundations formed the backbone of Constantinopolitan church topography and already by the early to mid fifth century, almost certainly exceeding in number the relatively few imperial or episcopal churches. 355 But aside from their funding and impetus, what exactly was "private" about these churches? That is, were Constantinople's "private" churches any different from any of the hundreds of other churches throughout the empire, paid for by a non-episcopal donor, but administered by the episcopate as one of its own? The answer is less decisive than we might like. Lacking any physical evidence of their form or context, we will never know their relationship to their respective oikoi or palaces - that is, we cannot judge the extent to which some or many may have been "domestic." Many of them, such as Isaac's monastery which hosted a procession of elite visitors each day, or Aurelianus' church to Stephen which served as the monk's final resting place, were hardly limited to family use. 356 However, as Gilbert Dagron has already outlined, Constantinopolitan private foundations were "private" in important and distinctive ways. Until the time ofJustinian, the city's private churches were subject to no structured supervision by the city's episcopate. 357 No clearly articulated liturgical relationship between bishop and these churches seems to have governed their rites, as there did, for instance, in the Roman tituli. Furthermore, many Constantinopolitan elites also had residences in the Chalcedonian suburbs, and thus many of their pious activities fell outside the Constantinopolitan bishop's official jurisdiction. 358 Indeed, not until the fourteenth century did Constantinople have had anything like an urban parish system, with specific churches and their clergy assigned to certain neighborhoods. 359 This free-market cacophony of private churches, built not for parochial care but for personal and familial commemoration, seems to have served in its stead. Until the time of Justinian, the procurement and supervision of private clergy was likewise largely unregulated. 360 It is likely no accident that it is monks as much as clergy that we find gathered round these churches, and it may have been to them that many of the liturgical responsibilities fell. Until the Council of Chalcedon in 45 I attempted to place monks under the aegis of their local bishop, the city's monks, particularly those of foreign extraction, often operated as free agents. 361 Although they quickly earned the reputation as bishop-makers or breakers, Constantinopolitan monks supported and/or harassed bishops according to the desires of their patrons. In Eusebia and Saturninus's narratives, monks obey their patron's wishes without even the whisper of an episcopal regulatory voice. Finally, anecdotal evidence from narratives like the Vitae ofIsaac or Hypatius suggests that these churches were built with funds taken directly from their founders' coffers, not funneled through the episcopate. When Saturninus and Victor competed to build Isaac's monastery, they simply built them, rather than donating earmarked funds to the episcopate for the purpose. 362 Unlike their Roman titular cousins, the dedicatory inscriptions for these churches, as
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recorded in the Greek Anthology, make almost no mention of episcopal intervention, or even presence, but instead proudly trumpet their founders' family histories and civic offices. 363 Indeed, as we shall see, it may have been John Chrysostom's attempts to divert these pious gifts through the episcopal treasury that earned him the resentment of the city's aristocrats and his eventual dismissal.
Bishops and Private Churches This extraordinary degree of independence might suggest that Constantinopolitan elites built and ran their private churches with nary a glance to the city's spiritual leader. Nothing could be further from the truth. In sharp distinction from their Roman brethren whom we have found either ignoring or gently sparring with the city's bishops over domestic cult, the aristocrats of Constantinople and their churches were an ever-present part of episcopal life. As such, they played major roles in the establishment and maintenance of episcopates, as well as their denouement. The almost total absence of regulatory efforts in itself tells the tale: fourth- and early fifth-century Constantinopolitan bishops were in no position to control the churches of their elite parishioners, and indeed, relied upon them heavily as they struggled to navigate the sharkfilled waters of doctrinal controversy and imperial subterfuge. When we first encounter private churches in the mid to later fourth century, there is almost always a bishop in the background, using his elite supporters' foundations to bolster his often tenuous position. Macedonius was probably the first, and perhaps most adept backer of private churches. Already during his first removal from office, he maintained a following by offering services in a private church, apart from the service held in the cathedral by bishop Paul. 364 Once more permanently ensconced by 342, he linked up with two imperial bureaucrats, Eleusis, an official with the imperial palace, and Marathonius, a wealthy assistant to the praetorian prefect turned ascetic and deacon. 365 Although both would eventually be raised to episcopates in Cyzicus and Nicomedia, respectively, it was their already-active tradition of private foundations that Macedonius seems to have harnessed for his own cause. 366 Marathonius was said to have built a string of monasteries and charitable foundations after his departure from imperial service, which he later used as bully pulpits for Macedonius' pro-Arian platform. 367 Eusebia, who constructed the shrine to the Forty Martyrs on her estate, was said to be a Macedonius supporter: if she indeed lived during his episcopate, as Sozomen seems to suggest, Macedonius would no doubt have basked in the success of one of his deaconesses bringing these famous relics to the city for the first time, just as her monks would prove useful allies during his many struggles against the persistent previous occupant of the office, the pro-Nicene Paup 68 Just how successfully Macedonius utilized private cult to promote his cause is illustrated by the continuation
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of that cult even after his removal: some forty years later, John Chrysostom caught one Macedonius supporter sneaking her own consecrated bread into his service. When the bread miraculously turned to stone in his presence she was persuaded to switch allegiances. 369 Gregory Nazianzen's short-lived episcopate also began in a house. In 379 the reluctant Cappadocian presbyter was invited by a group of both clergy and significantly, the city's laymen, to set up an alternative, pro-Nicene episcopate. 37o The role of these laypeople is typically glossed over in studies of Gregory's episcopate, but given that one of his clerical supporters, Basil of Caesarea, had recently died, and the other, Meletius, was in Antioch, this local lay support would have been critical. 371 The identity of these laymen, however, continues to elude our grasp and while it now seems unlikely that the heiress Olympias, future wife of the urban prefect, was among them, the group must have included some members of the city's elite. 372 Indeed, since the city's real bishop still occupied the church of St. Sophia, Gregory's "episcopal see" was established in the home of one of these supporters and it was in this home's private church that he first took up the pro-Nicene cudgel. He termed this church "the Anastasia," in reference to the hoped-for resurrection of a true, pro-Nicene faith.m The name and his defense of its private location drew upon biblical images of a downtrodden minority, meeting in a small building in the private sphere (even described as the tent of wandering Israelites) while their persecutors prowled the public churches. 374 Gregory's images of a humble church and his claims to be adrift in elite Constantinopolitan society are belied to a certain extent, however, by his own subsequent testimony.375 From Gregory's one sustained description of the Anastasia, it would seem his private church had had all the necessary liturgical furnishings, including chancel screens and probably an altar, and space for an order of virgins, presbyters, a choir, as well as the people who crowded around Gregory and poured out into the streets. 376 The house of which this church was a part lay near the Forum of Constantine, a posh neighborhood in which some fifty years later a home might cost two thousand gold pieces. 377 Those who invited him to the city and provided him worship space were thus doubtless pro-Nicene members of the private church-building elite, perhaps relatives of his own Cappadocian aristocratic family.37 8 His cultivation of these aristocrats and reliance upon their cooperation in church affairs can be reconstructed from his later correspondence; here he appears on friendly terms with Victor, the former consul, as well as with Saturninus, the soon-to-be consul, both builders of monasteries near the Helenianae region. 379 Victor and Saturninus' own protegee and house guest, the monk Isaac, seems to have followed his patrons' lead and supported Gregory. 380 On the other hand, Gregory blamed his abject failure as a bishop not simply on doctrinal issues, but an inability to navigate between competing groups among his own congregationYI His rendition of their complaints, " ... we
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flatter and cajole, you do not; we honor thrones, you honor right doctrine; we like exotic seasonings, you frugality ... " echoes the competitive world of private-church politics, a world the provincial Gregory may have never fully comprehended. 382 Eleven years later, many of these same complaints would be repeated by another outsider who not only failed to manage the privatechurch-owning elite, but may have gone head-to-head against them. John Chrysostom was one of the few Constantinopolitan bishops to be run out of town not for doctrinal reasons but for pure unpopularity. His failure is typically ascribed to his contentious relationship with the empress Aelia Eudoxia, his finger-shaking attitude toward luxurious living, and/or his impolitic handling of the city's monks.J8 3 Behind all these troubles lurks a potentially even deeper misstep - a probable attempt to wrest financial control of the city's network of private churches from the hands of their elite proprietors. 384 Chrysostom's biographer, Palladius, and the later chronicler Photius record both the complaints made against him and his own self-avowed achievements. One of the most contentious issues was what might be termed financial imperialism: Chrysostom is said to have interfered in the way church funds were spent, to have diverted donations of the faithful from clerical hands into episcopal coffers, and then refused to disclose how he spent these donations. 385 In one case, he seems to have actually sold one such donated estate, a practice generally frowned upon, as church property was generally considered inalienable. 386 Chrysostom labeled the wealthy church-building elite as "gangsters," and their dependent clergy and monks as "purse-watchers" or "give-me-guys."3 87 His prohibition of clergy attending dinner parties was likely an attempt to drive a potentially lethal wedge between these clerical clients and their patrons, striking at the social heart of patrocinium. 388 At the same time, he accused these elites on more than one occasion of avarice, singling out Aurelianus and Saturninus, private church builders both, and blaming the city's takeover by the Goth Gainas on their cupidity.3 89 It seems an odd charge to level at those who built monasteries and gave to the poor through their monastic middlemen. Its real message, however, was clear: only gifts to the institutional church and entrusted to its bishop counted as genuine charity. Aurelianus, Saturninus, and their ilk, whatever their pious actions, were not to be counted as charitable men. In both his own words and others' accusations, Chrysostom thus appears as a heavy-handed financial manager. More specifically, these sources describe an effort to divert the streams of pious giving, which for a half-century had flowed easily from pious aristocrats directly to their foundations, and redirect them toward the Great Church itself. 390 The status quo prior to Chrysostom's arrival, as the evidence from private churches themselves strongly suggests, saw aristocrats building and maintaining their private churches and paying
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their attendant clergy and monks directly out of pocket. Chrysostom seems to have tried to interfere with that system by urging the wealthy to give directly to the church, and when he failed to convince their elite paymasters, claimed a portion of those payments from the clergy. Chrysostom's sale of donated property was another move in the .same direction: as we have seen in the case of the Roman tituli, donated property was both a blessing and a curse for the episcopate. It came along with its donor's wishes for its eventual use, and it was immovable and thus tied up church interests in a specific place (often a place where the donor had long-standing interests). It was every bishop's dream to convert these cumbersome properties to cash and in the process, cast off the chains that bound the episcopate to donors' influence. As pope Symmachus would discover a century later in Rome, however, donors reacted violently to these back-handed attempts to reduce their influence. 391 Symmachus responded wisely by backpedaling: Chrysostom, however, seems to have stuck to his guns and paid a dear price. 392 Some among the city's private church-building elite turned against him, providing the final and perhaps most forceful push that would propel the bishop into exile. 393 Palladius singles out three women, intimates of the empress Aelia Eudoxia, who carried the anti-Chrysostom banner: Marsa, the widow ofPromotus, Castricia, the widow ofSaturninus and Eugraphia, "an absolute fury. "394 Promotus, of course, was the magister equitum whose property, either in his lifetime or thorough his will, was turned into a monastery. In Chrysostom's time Gothic monks inhabited it, and given Chrysostom's pro-Gothic stance, one wonders if they were installed there over Marsa's objections. 395 Castricia's Saturninus we have already met as a monastery builder and patron of the monk Isaac, who by this time seems to have been not only among the city's most powerful monks but also one of Chrysostom's greatest antagonists: like mistress, like monk, or perhaps vice-versa. 396 We know little of Eugraphia's family, except of her proximity to the empress, and nothing of her patronage habits. It is telling, however, that the powers arrayed against Chrysostom met first in the confines of her home, while the Synod of the Oak that eventually removed him was held in a suburban palace in Chalcedon, home to so many aristocratic second homes and outside Chrysostom's episcopal purview. 397 These efforts to control private churches seem strange coming from a man who a decade earlier in Antioch had prayed that his Antiochene flock might eventually dissolve into a constellation of households, atomic cells of holiness existing independently of the structures of urban life. 398 Even during his early years in the capital, he praised estate churches from the pulpit, praising their virtues and assuring the owners of rural villages and villas that a private church would benefit them more than a private bath. 399 But for Chrysostom, Antioch was to Constantinople as a pleasant dream is to the cold, ugly light of day.
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In Antioch and for a time in his new post, Chrysostom dreamed of prying
the individual out from the heavy blanket of a classical urban life by creating a new Christian habitus. 40o He encouraged estate church building to wean landowners off of bread-and-circus-type euergetism and urged home-based alms collection to engrain the habits of pious giving. His vision of self-sufficient Christian households, however, was less a drive toward private devotion for its own sake, as it was an attempt to thrust the Christian family away from the seductive thrall of Antioch's civic charms. In short, as a Christian preacher in a flourishing classical city, Chrysostom was free to dream of an idealized, Pauline-type Christianity, where Christian households might hold back the tide of the saeculum. At Constantinople, he would slowly awaken to a perverted fulfillment of that very dream: here was a fully Christian city in which the elite household was the cornerstone of urban Christian life. Yet these households were the embodiment of the saeculum; their owners were government officials, and their churches, monks, and clergy where harnessed to the same wheels of patronage that drove the machines of government. These were patently not the households of his imaginings, these were the real-world houses of a worldly Christian elite and his refusal to work within their orbit, to dine with them, to approve their monastic clientele, would lead to his downfall. 401 In the end, Chrysostom's profound disillusionment with Constantinopolitan households transcends his own personal journey and goes right to the wrenching ambiguity of households themselves. Like his predecessor Gregory Nazianzen, household worship for Chrysostom represented the pure, untainted Church. 402 It was an ideal, created from the scraps of an imagined apostolic golden age. Most importantly, it was an ideal rooted in an ideology of persecution and watered by the assaults of hostile, outside forces, be they heretical or pagan. Once those assaults dried up, once the house-based group lost its minority status, the ideal would wither, too. In Constantinople, at the helm of a confident Christian majority, Chrysostom found privately directed worship, particularly its economic apparatus, a challenge to his own authority and ironically, an impediment to his dreams of a home-based Christian city.
Monks and the Private By the mid fifth century, the tradition of elite private churches in the new capital was almost a century old. Expansive and established, it had become the accepted free-market solution to churching a Wild West town. The city's bishops, trumped by the wealth and imperial connections of these churches' elite impresarios, had little choice but to accept the status quo, even to encourage it. The middlemen in these pious transactions, the monks affiliated with private foundations, found themselves in a more complex, ultimately more hazardous position.
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Monasticism flourished in Constantinople under the same private aegis as did martyr cult and day-to-day church ritual. As has been discussed above, monasteries were typically founded by elites, very often in connection with a private church or martyrium in which the monks were expected to serve. Despite this fundamental similarity, ascetic endeavors were carried out quite differently in the new capital than in the old: in Rome, the fourth century "monks" were the elite themselves and their mansions the site of daily ascetic ritual and discipline. While a certain number of Constantinopolitan elites donned the sackcloth, such as the famous Olympias or the deacon Marathonius, the majority were content to be monastic supporters, rather than ascetics themselves. As in Rome, homes and suburban estates were the locus of ascetic endeavor, but in Constantinople, it was nonfarnily members who composed the monastic group. These outsiders were typically non-elites from far-off climes, such as Egypt, Asia Minor, and above all, Syria. 403 That is, the monks that flocked in ever greater numbers to the capital, drawn by the savory smells of elite benefaction, represented the hodgepodge of eastern ethnicities and diversities of eastern ascetic practice. The city's high concentration of elite benefactors, combined with the large numbers of diverse foreign ascetics, also produced a particular brand of monastic practice. 404 Most important, and eventually most problematic, was its nonsettled quality.405 Monks in Constantinople followed the gravy train of elite patronage and influence; they made their homes wherever aristocratic benevolence allowed and when that dried up or greener pastures presented themselves, they moved on. This form of money-mobile monasticism may well have begun with one of the city's earliest and most controversial ascetic proponents, Eustathius of Sebaste. 406 Eventual bishop of Sebaste in Armenia, Eustathius spent his formative years advocating asceticism. 4°7 Condemned at a council in Gangara in Paphlagonia in the mid fourth century, Eustathius and his followers were accused of shunning married persons, adopting their own rhythm of fasts, and in order to maintain their pursuit of perfection, separating from the church, meeting in various private houses, and claiming the offerings of the faithful as their own. 408 While the claims made against him were doubtless exaggerated, there is no doubt that Eustathius' message was a powerful one and his advocacy of a competitive, ascetic elite and withdrawal from all worldly affairs drew many supporters, including a young Basil of Caesarea and most importantly, Marathonius, a wealthy Constantinopolitan military man. 409 Eustathius probably met Marathonius when the former passed through Constantinople and the Eustathius' vision of a particulate network of ascetic cells, pursuing the perfect life through the largess of the wealthy, seems to have resonated with the imperial bureaucrat. Marathonius not only joined the ascetic ranks himself, but set about founding dozens of churches, hospitals, and above all, monasteries. 4IO It was Marathonius who seems to have really popularized private church and monastery building in these formative years, even selling
I2I
TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
the idea to his bishop, Macedonius. 4Il Indeed the possible identification of Gangara's convening bishop with Eusebius, bishop ofNicomedia and avowed enemy of Macedonius of Constantinople, has lead at least one scholar to suggest that the exaggerated accusations against Eustathius were concocted to stem the ascetic's rising influence in the capital. 412 Into this early tradition of private monasticism entered a rising tide of Syrian monks. Syrian monastic thought eschewed manuallabor and its monks survived almost wholly on private lay patronage. At the same time, many Syrian ascetics condemned the accumulated wealth and relative ease of settled monastic lifeY3 Peripatetic preaching among the houses of the wealthy was thus a natural product of Syrian ascetic theology, and was nurtured not only in the wealthy villages of the northern Syrian massif, but also in the salons and private churches of the imperial capital. Here ascetics of the independent, Eustathian cast mingled with aggressive holy men from the eastern deserts, both feeding off the growing Constantinopolitan vogue for private euergetism. The result - a radical ascetic movement that surfed the shifting tides of elite benefaction - would survive the city's doctrinal mood swings and grow to shape the city's monastic future. The Syrian monk Isaac, the city's next ascetic superstar, is a case in point. As radical a pro-Nicene as Eustathius and Marathonius were Arian sympathizers, Isaac nonetheless rose to prominence by deftly moving between ever more powerful aristocratic households. The competitive atmosphere of Eustathian ascetic groups now permeated to elite benefactors: Victor and Saturninus, Isaac's prospective patrons, both built monasteries in their extramural estates, competing to tempt an exotic Syrian holy man who, not coincidentally, happened to be espousing the same doctrinal message as their new boss, the pro-Nicene emperor Theodosius. 414 Also not coincidentally, Isaac chose the ascending star, Saturninus, magister militum and future consul, over his older semi-retired colleague Victor, to be his patron and moved into Saturninus' estateYs Despite the monk's loudly voiced desires for a quiet life of prayer, Isaac immediately began to imitate his bureaucratic patron's round of salutationes, going to the homes of Saturninus' friends and colleagues and leading them in prayer and domestic rituals: in short, he behaved just as a Syrian monk should. 416 By the time of Isaac's death, probably around 404, the wheels of patronage had shifted yet again: it was Aurelianus, praetorian prefect and consul of 400, not the now passe Saturninus, who would claim Isaac's body and bury him in his church of St. Stephen, set on his estate not far from Saturninus' home-turned-Isaac's monastery.4 17 Like city pigeons, the ever increasing flocks of monks that flitted around the city's private churches and monasteries would eventually be deemed a nuisance. Chrysostom had tried to bring them to heal, but made the catastrophic blunder of interfering with their funding and thus with the elites who held monastic purse-strings. 418 It was Chrysostom who was eventually sent packing
122
CONCLUSIONS
by angry elites who defended their monkish protegees. Mid century, however, brought a sea-change of both opinion and episcopal power: the ideal of an ascetic eutaxia, settled order, and a monastic work ethic, both advocated most famously by Basil of Caesarea, was gradually earning popular acceptance. 419 In other parts of the East, particularly Syria, Trinitarian debate had intensified and the principal proponents of the non-Chalcedonian cause were often monks. At the same time, monks were joining the priesthood and eventually the episcopate in increasing numbers, binding the two forms of authority ever more tightly.420 In Constantinople, bishops, not without considerable trepidation, would use the doctrinal extremism of the city's most powerful monk, Eutyches, to drive a wedge between peripatetic monks and their aristocratic sponsors.421 By 45 I Eutyches had lost his most powerful patron, the scandal-mongering imperial eunuch, Chrysaphius, as well as Theodosius 11, who through the advice of Chrysaphius had helped Eutyches weather previous storms.422 The city's aristocrats and their private monasteries would condemn Eutyches, first in a trial called by bishop Flavian in 448 and later in council, where Florentius, consul of 429 and twice praetorian prefect, Macedonius, tribunus et notarius, a host of bishops and twenty-three abbots, mostly from privately sponsored monasteries, joined their voices against himY3 In doing so, they were tacitly accepting a new status quo: it was private martyr shrine monks who were held up as evidence ofEutyches' degenerate constituency, the very monks who in the past were part and parcel of aristocratic pious projectsY4 The subsequent Council of Chalcedon in 451 would also pass a series of measures that for the first time made explicit a bishop's control over monastic communities and all other private churches in his dioceseYs While they probably had little immediate affect on religious life in Constantinople, these rulings represented the dawning of a new age, one of an expanded episcopal role in private churches, and an elite who accepted, even encouraged episcopal supervision over their private foundations. 426
CONCLUSIONS
The histories of these two Christian capitals finds various forms of the "private, " - private endowments, domestic churches, privately run churches, house asceticism - at the center of Christian lives. In the century after the Peace of the Church, it was families, neighborhood groups, and above all, the new Christian elite who helped shape the religious topography of their cities, pushing the introduction of martyr cult and instigating ascetic practice, all within the traditional loci of religious experience, the home. The very different forms and trajectories assumed by these private projects grew from the very different urban environments in which they flourished. In Rome, it was the ancient system of Christian house and community
12 3
TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE
centers, as well as the aristocracy's traditional habits of patronage and religious independence, that shaped private cult. In Constantinople, a nouveau-riche bureaucracy simply assumed control of church building as it shaped the city's new infrastructure. In the old capital, these private projects existed alongside or in an uneasy tension with a growing episcopate; in the new Rome, short-lived bishops mostly worked hand-in-glove with the bureaucrat-church builders who constituted the principal element of religious continuity. In both cities, however, the elites who acted as the impresarios of these various projects were guided by ancient habits as much or more so than ecclesiastical dictates: patronage and family shaped their projects, from the location of their churches to their financing and clerical staffing. Just as it had for their ancestors, practicing pietas meant being a patronus/ a, and the ritual independence that raised episcopal eyebrows grew from an ancient tendency to ride easily over a now increasingly tender public/private divide.
124
CHAPTER
3
"Christianizing" the Countryside: Rural Estates and Private Cult
S
ometime in the 370s, the aging Gallic rhetor, poet, and statesman Ausonius left the hustle and bustle of city life and settled into the rural quiet of his Aquitainian villa. So dear to him was this rural life, so central to his own sense of self, that he took pen in hand to describe his average day in the countryside. Between his morning toilet and his instructions to his chef, Ausonius made time for prayer. I Each morning, a servant would ready the villa chapel for his master's use and he would pray for good fortune, salvation, and his family's good name. It was a ritual, and a rural ritual setting, that Pliny or Virgil would have recognized, and even the chapel itself, which Ausonius terms a sacrarium, seems redolent of old-fashioned pietas. But Ausonius was firm: "1 do not caU for incense to be burnt nor for any slice of honey-cake: hearths of green turf 1 leave for the altars of vain gods. 1 must pray to God and to the Son of God most high, that co-equal Majesty united in one fellowship with the Holy Spirit."2 By the later fourth century, aristocrats like Ausonius were not only building private chapels and practicing their Christian faith in their urban homes, but also took their piety with them to their rural estates. Some, like Ausonius, practiced an individual or family based piety. 3 Others' endeavors embraced the whole estate familia and in the vast "private" of the rural villa, reproduced the apparatus of urban Christianity, building great estate basilicas with permanent clergy and baptisteries that catered to dependent populations. Just as Rome's first ascetic communities began in elite mansions, the first rural monasteries in the West were also begun in villas, as aristocrats like Paulinus of N ola or
12 5
"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
Sulpicius Severus transformed the classical ideal of contemplative otium into a more rigorous Christian asceticism. An earlier generation of scholarship on rural Christianity often ignored the role of rural elites and privately sponsored Christianity, instead emphasizing the role of bishops and monks. 4 Taking their cue from the legends of Gregory of Tours, which describes earlier Gallic bishops and holy men building rural churches and preaching to the pagani, or figures like Severinus of N oricum, who converted the rural denizens of the Rhineland frontier, these scholars ascribed Christianity's rural "progress" to episcopal and monastic conversion efforts. Monks were cast in the role of proselytizing pioneers, while fourth- and early fifth-century bishops were assumed to have had the same job descriptions as their medieval successors, presiding over a parish network, monitoring rural clergy, and converting the recalcitrant rural masses. Aristocrats, when they entered these stories at all, were frequently assumed to be bishops' natural allies. Martin of Tours' back-slapping intimacy with his seigniorial parishioners or Augustine's abundant correspondence with local Christian landowners typified a natural friendship: as members of an "elite," Christian aristocrats and bishops seemed to form a natural coalition, particularly when it came to the conversion of the rural peasantry. 5 The eventual elevation of some of these elites to the episcopal throne, particularly the famous Gallic cases of Sidonius Apollinaris or Hilary of Arles seemed the inevitable result of such asynergy. 6 A flood of new data on the rural landscape has begun to alter this picture. Generated to a large degree by archaeologists unimpressed by ecclesiastical sources, these new studies have transformed the generic sketches of rural Christianity into detailed, regionally specific panoramas. The chronology of church building, the progress of parish formation, and role oflocal bishops and aristocrats have been precisely examined and carefully catalogued. 7 Rural elites are increasingly mentioned as playing important roles in the spread of Christianity to the countryside, while fourth- and fifth-century bishops have been revealed as largely urban creatures, with neither the resources nor the initiative to project their power into the great stretches oflargely pagan countryside. Although the details of rural religious life are being brought into ever sharper focus, the overall image is often blurred by a fuzzy historiographic lens. 8 Field surveys, epigraphic collections, church archaeology, and parish topography are frequently examined under the vague rubric of "the Christianization of the countryside," in which Christianity's "progress" through the rural hinterlands is measured through various parameters - quantity, density, institutional sophistication - that tend inexorably upward. What precisely is meant by "Christianization" - greater numbers of Christians, greater institutional organization, greater social prominence - is rarely specified, while the precise mechanisms of what would have been a deeply complex socio-economic, not to mention religious change, are frequently glossed over. Specifically, the
126
THE FOURTH-CENTURY COUNTRYSIDE
impact of privately controlled Christian communities on incipient rural Christianity and the specific character of these projects versus episcopal endeavors are rarely interrogated. The relationship between bishops and landowners remains similarly un-probed: as natural products of a Christianizing impulse which began in urban centers, elites are assumed to behave as bishops in absentia, acting on urban, episcopally inspired ideals - Christian community building and conversion - and translating these ideals to the countryside. 9 How rural elites were NOT like bishops, and how estates differed fundamentally from cities and episcopal centers, remain issues swept under the generalizing carpet of a "Christianizing" discourse. To read much of the recent literature on rural Christianity is to be drawn into Ausonius' gentle world where radical socio-religious change is so easy and so obvious that one need only note its happening to have explained its inner workings. The following chapter narrates a rather different, more uncomfortable history. It analyzes the evidence for Christianity on rural estates in the western provinces, including North Africa, from the fourth through the first half of the fifth centuries. In large swaths of the rural West, it was estates, not the still-nascent parish, which provided the first point of entry for Christian building and Christian ritual. It was, however, a Christian practice born of the late antique estate itself, reflecting its social structures and hierarchies. For the most part, these communities were not outposts of episcopal authority, nor even attempts to proselytize the countryside. Formed around seigniorial dependency structures, elite status networks or the age-old sociology of philosophical otium, estate-based Christianity represented a distinct kind of Christian practice. In this sense, it displayed much of Ausonius' abiding sense of continuity, strongly impacted by the traditional practice of estate-based religion. And yet, the endless miles that separated city from country, the radical power disparity between these powerful elites and frequently lower-status bishops, and above all, the social structures that molded estate-based Christianity, did not always produce synergies with episcopal authorities. An examination of episcopal and estate church relationships in three different regions of the West describes a continuum from cautious approval to condemnation. From Britain to Spain, however, ran a note of tension whose volume varied, but whose presence describes a very different kind of "Christianization" than Ausonius' easy verses would suggest.
THE FOURTH-CENTURY COUNTRYSIDE
For most rural areas, the fourth century was a prosperous time. A radical reorganization of the imperial monetary system under first Diocletian, then Constantine curtailed inflation, while the Diocletianic administrative reforms sent the
12 7
"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
tentacles of imperial bureaucracy snaking across the rural West. IQ Production was not only profitable but necessary in order to meet increasingly insistent tax and tribute burdens. Wagons creaked along the roads from the upland tells to Carthage and from Baetica to Bordeaux, bearing goods earmarked for the annona. Local markets piggybacked off these great, state-motivated enterprises and thriving local industries like the smelly fish sauce factories around Tarragona, the vineyards of Puglia, or the ceramic kilns of central-southern Britain produced for nearby cities, as well as their now-thriving rural neighbors. North Africa presented certain exceptions to these trends. Its own oil, grain, and ceramic markets began to grow just as those of Italy began to languish in the later second century, and it soon took over the lion's share of many long-distance export markets, including the supply of Rome. I I The fourth century saw a slight diminution in production and settlements, but in general, the Mrican provinces seem to have continued to thrive: while some farms were abandoned, many probably continued unabated; new, stoutly constructed fortified farms were multiplying; and wine, grain, and oil imports to Rome remained high. 12 The countryside was not only bustling with economic activity, it also was an increasingly important locus of elite identity. Beginning in the final decades of the third century or somewhat later, elites in many areas of the western provinces began to pour money and resources into their rural houses. These were not the relatively simple structures that had dotted the provinces in the early empire, but vast tours de force of architectural and material sophistication. 13 The habitation areas, or villa urbana, of these villas were radically transformed. Apses, the architectural form de jour, appeared in profusion, capping monumental reception halls and dining rooms; bath complexes were enlarged and elaborated; entrance spaces were provided with polygonal vestibules, domes, and garden courtyards. The daily routines of rural elite life were being monumentalized and the everyday elevated to the epic. A profusion of decoration further transformed these spaces into glittering displays of material abundance. '4 The art of floor mosaic found its fullest flower in late antique villas and local schools arose in various regions to meet specific local tastes: mythological scenes in Spain, complex vegetal patterns in Aquitaine, Christian themes in southern Britain. Frescos and marble revetment covered the walls, while vaults shimmered with glass ceiling mosaics. Private statuary collections, comprised of both ancient and modern pieces, were also in vogue. '5 Villas had become vast displays of agrarian-derived wealth and seigniorial status. Simply to display one's wealth, however, was not enough: villas were meant to describe their patrons, to serve as personalized manifestos of good breeding and learnedness. The British country gentleman who paraphrased the Aeneid on his dining room floor, or the Lusitanian family who proudly depicted their winning chariot horses by name, were not simply broadcasting their status: they were describing themselves. '6 The more learned among these elites extended
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THE FORMS OF ESTATE WORSHIP
these built self-descriptions into written form, reviving a whole industry of villa-inspired poetry and letters. Villa ekphrases, out of vogue since the time of Pliny, began to proliferate, as senatorial elites from Ausonius to Sidonius Apollinaris found in rural life, and in their villas in particular, appropriate vehicles for self-expression. 17 Describing one's bath house not only provided the author with an opportunity to quote classical authors, thereby displaying, like one's statue collection, a kind of encyclopedic learnedness, but also permitted a carefully framed view of the self. As Ausonius himself explained, if you knew his estate, its acreage, its brooks, fields, and streams, " ... you may also know me and know yourself too, if you are capable.... "1 8 These "villa poets" circulated these letters and poems to their aristocratic peers; these images of villa-self thus served as long-distance saiutationes, presenting the writer's compliments even as they paraded his or her villa-based accomplishments. Villas, as actual physical structures or as words, had thus become one of the currencies by which amicitia and patronage were managed. It was in this rural environment of heightened economic production and elite self-display that the first Christian communities appear. These communities were indelibly marked by the economic structures and social baggage of these estates, and Christian practice, hierarchy, and imagination took on a particular, "villa-colored" hue.
THE FORMS OF ESTATE WORSHIP: VILLA CHURCHES, MAUSOLEA, AND "MONASTERIES"
While material evidence for Christian cult in urban fourth- and fifth-century homes is limited, archaeological remains in rural villas is somewhat more forthcoming; indeed, the following narrative is largely crafted from the walls and floors of villas and their Christian buildings. The relative ease of rural versus urban excavations and an exponential increase in the number and quality of excavations over the last twenty years has produced new villas, and new evidence for villa-based Christianity, every year. Abundance, however, is not necessarily synonymous with quality or clarity; dozens of villas have been identified as having "oratories" or churches, but only a handful of cases demonstrate sufficient evidence to support this claim. For instance, mosaics depicting Christian scenes, such as the famous image of Christ at the Hinton St. Mary villa in Britain, or the Old and New Testament scenes in the dome of Centcelles villa in Hispania provide important glimpses of the individual owners' spirituality, but tell us virtually nothing about Christian ritual practices. 19 Churches built over or next to defunct villas clearly had cultic use, but were not necessarily part of a private estate. 20 The expanse of rural space which eases excavation also creates interpretive problems: many villa churches or Christian mausolea were built some distance from their villa and excavations
12 9
"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
focused only on the villa's monumental core often miss them. Indeed, the "private" space of the rural estate was far more complex than a single house, and embraced fields, barns, roads, and the houses of its tenants and slaves. The extraordinary complexity of rural landscapes, which included not only private estates with single-family residences, but also agglomerated settlements like vici and pagi which might also belong to private estates, complicate the matter yet further.21 As it is almost impossible to determine the physical extent of an estate, it is likewise almost impossible to determine which structures were actually part of that vast, diffuse "private," and which were not. 22 A church or mausoleum set a hundred meters from a functioning villa was most likely part of that villa, but in the final analysis, ownership has no archaeological footprint and thus the "privateness" or not of these structures is always necessarily ambiguous. As one scholar has dismissively put it, much of the evidence for Christian practice in these contexts is "tutto ipotetica. "23 Even the textual material, although also plentiful, has its problems. Much of this evidence, particularly regulatory material from church councils and imperial law codes, as well the anecdotal evidence from authors like Gregory of Tours, dates from the sixth century and does not necessarily reflect very different fourth- and early fifth-century realities. Specifically, the beginnings of the parish system in the sixth century and the growing role of the episcopate in estate church affairs cannot be projected back onto the more chaotic earlier countryside.
Intra- Villa Churches By adopting a cautious approach to the evidence and acknowledging its limitations, we can still gain a general sense of the different types of Christian projects carried out by the rural elite. One type has already been mentioned: Ausonius' sacrarium, or chapel, which the author claims was simply a room or building, devoid of any ritual furnishings or decoration. 24 The contrast between the sacrarium's avowed plainness and the baroque ritual apparatus of pagan temples is clearly contrived, and we should probably not assume Ausonius' own sacrarium was necessarily so humble. Sidonius Apollinaris uses the same term to describe his friend Consentius' villa church, while inside the villa of Pontius Leontius he summarily describes a "temple [templum] of god who is greatest of all," sandwiched between the dining room and the wine cellar. 25 The only real clues to these structures' appearance are provided by the vocabulary used to describe them: in classical juridical usage, a sacrarium was a shrine within a private building. 26 While templum is a wholly generic term for any sacred space, Sidonius' specifies that the templum in Pontius' villa lay within the house itself.27 Thus, as was the case in urban houses, the simplest ritual space in Christian villas may have been these rooms set aside for daily prayers without any permanent ritual furnishings. Such rooms would necessarily be
130
THE FORMS OF ESTATE WORSHIP
28. Plan, Lullingstone villa, fourth-century A.D. phase (after Neal 1991, p. 26)_
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invisible in the archaeological record, and it may be only in these off-hand literary remarks that we can catch a glimpse of them. On the other hand, the very fact that both Ausonius and Sidonius use these sacraria to showcase the faith and piety of their protagonists, suggests that these rooms might be prominent structures, part of the villa's prestige apparatus. A small group of such churches have been excavated, churches set within the villa's domestic heart but possessed of a certain monumental and ritual sophistication. 28 At Lullingstone villa in southern Britain, such a church was added to the villa in its final phase, probably between 360 and 380 A.D. (Figs. 28-30).29 During its fourth-century phase, the villa boasted a large, apsed reception hall and a bath complex attached to one side. The church was built on the villa's extreme northern side over a cellar that, from the second century onwards, had served as a shrine first to the nymphs and later seemingly to the family's ancestors. The construction of the Christian church probably put an end to these rites, but as with the shrines at Ss. Giovanni e Paolo, the chronological intersection of pagan and Christian sites is not wholly clear. 30 The church consisted of a small (7 X 4m) rectangular space that reflected the layout of the cellar below and was enlivened only by a simple niche in its eastern wall. The spatial austerity of this main room was relieved by a complex of surrounding rooms, including a vestibule, an antechamber, and two side rooms, all presumably part of the church complex, while the walls of both church and vestibule were covered with an extraordinary series of frescos, including fragmentary narrative scenes and large chi-rho symbols. While the church seems to have had no permanent altar, chancel screens, or other ritual furnishings, the complex of rooms themselves and their
13 1
"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
29· Reconstruction, Lullingstone villa church, fourth century A.D. N.B.: The hypothetical position of some of the wall paintings has been altered since this reconstruction was made (see Liversidge and Weatherhead 1987, 12) (Meats 1955, 13 b).
accompanying fresco decoration created a surprisingly sophisticated ritual space. 3 I Four rooms - vestibule, ante-chamber, the church proper, and at least one side room - were all interlinked and thus together constituted the cultic complex. While the function of each room is unclear, their number and variety bespeaks a certain ritual sophistication. A succession of large chirho images guided the visitor through these rooms, from the ante-chamber through the chapel to the eastern cult niche, echoing the procession of the faithful from the entrance into the churchY On the church's western wall, six figures were arrayed in orant position, mimicking the position and actions
30. Painted decoration, west wall, Lullingstone villa church, fourth century A.D. (Liversidge and
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THE FORMS OF ESTATE WORSHIP
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of the faithful as they faced the church's eastern wall. Thus, despite the site's small size and absence of traditional identifYing church markers, space and decoration describe a complex set of ritual actions, including procession and focused group prayer. The fact that the church seemingly had two doors, one leading from the villa and another from the outside, may suggest that this small chapel served not only the seigniorial family, but also some of the broader estate familia. 33 Another example at Villa Fortunatus in northeastern Hispania was even more elaborate (Figs. 3I-33).34 The villa itself was larger and richer than its small British cousin, organized around a large peristyle and including a small, but beautifully articulated entrance aula, a bath suite, and in a late phase, a small exedra off the peristyle, paved with a mosaic depicting images of abundance and bearing the owner's name, "Fortunatus" bisected by a chi-rho. 35 To the
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3 I. Plan, Villa Fortunatus, fourth-fifth centuries A.D. (after Guardia Pons, I992, fig. 7).
"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
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west lay a large, (15.6 X I2.8m) three-aisled reception room, laid with fine mosaic floors and oriented north-south. It was this reception r00111. that was converted into the church, probably in the first decades of the fifth century. 36 The entrance to the reception hall was blocked and the northern third of the room was converted into a tripartite "sanctuary." The body of the church retained the three-aisled plan of the earlier dining room as well as its northsouth orientation, while the southern end echoed the tripartite arrangement of the sanctuary. The centerpiece of this northern "sanctuary" was a false "crypt" accessed by four steps leading down to a tiny (1.5 X Im) space. Too small to accommodate an actual body, this "crypt" may have held private relics, kept in an evocative, semi-subterranean setting. 37 It was protected by rudimentary chancel screens and flanked by two side chambers. As the space typically occupied by the altar
134
THE FORMS OF ESTATE WORSHIP
was taken up by the pseudo-crypt, it is not clear if these side chambers were preparation spaces for a eucharistic mass, or other rituals related to martyr cult. As at Lullingstone, two doors provided access to the church, one leading from the villa itself and a second from outside. A fourth- or early fifth-century church attached to a Piedmontese villa was similarly located at the edge of its respective villa and was similarly grand. 38 At Sizzano a large, but modestly appointed villa was organized around an open courtyard, and included a set of small baths and an agro-industrial area, both of which remained in use through the fifth century (Fig. 34). The church was tucked into the villa's southwest corner: rather large (15-4 x I Im), it had only a single nave, an eastern apse, and flanking eastern rooms. Like Villa Fortunatus it reused at least two walls of the villa in its construction, and mimicked the villa's overall geometry. No liturgical furnishings were preserved on its floor, destroyed in part by the later graves that grew up in and around it. Each of these examples finds rural elites building surprisingly complex Christian worship spaces within their rural homes. 39 The small size of these churches point to cult directed primarily towards the seigniorial family, although their location at the side of the villa and the presence of exterior doors may suggest a broader community. While evidence for eucharistic masses is slim, these small structures display a surprising degree of ritual sophistication, even though it is not clear precisely what those rituals were. Prayer accompanied by a possible veneration of relics, or processions involving the family or other community members, are some possibilities, but the singular, individualistic character of each project suggests that the rituals themselves were probably tailored to the interests of each founder and family.
Mausolea, with a 'TIvist More common than these small, intra-villa churches seem to have been larger, monumental projects outside the villa's domestic center. 40 Christian landowners in certain provinces continued the ancient tradition of building monumental mausolea near their villaY So similar to their pagan predecessors are
135
33. Mosaic, Villa Fortunatus, fourth-fifth centuries A.D. (Photo courtesy of the Museo de Zaragoza).
"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
34. View, Sizzano villa and plan of church, fIfth century A.D. (Spagnolo Garzoli 2004, fIg. 42; Pejrani Baricco 2003, fIg. 7).
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these Christian projects that it is frequently difficult to determine their religious affiliation. 42 Tentative evidence for Christian mausolea is most plentiful in Hispania, but examples also appear in southern Gaul, Italy, the Dalmatian coast, and North Africa. For example, the villa of Pueblanueva (Toledo) in central Hispania included a great octagonal mausoleum some 500m from the main buildings (Figs. 35-36).43 Some 24m in diameter with a surrounding ambulatory, the mausoleum was covered with a timber roof supported by a series of piers with engaged columns. A crypt was situated beneath the eastern half of the central space and was entered from inside the building via a set of stairs. The crypt contained three sarcophagi, one of which was perhaps imported from Constantinople and richly carved with figures of an enthroned Christ flanked by the Twelve Apostles. Although the building was centrally planed, its western entrance introduced an element of east-west orientation, while the eastern-most bay of the ambulatory was cordoned offby two walls, forming a kind of sanctuary opposite the entrance. 44 As the sarcophagi were located in the crypt, this bay was probably not used to hold a burial, but for some other ritual purpose. The great villa of La Cocosa (Badajoz) in western Hispania is one of the largest excavated to-date in that area, with mosaics, baths, and extensive agricultural and industrial dependencies, as well as a precious, possibly Christian mausoleum (Figs. 37-38).45 Probably during the late fourth or early fifth century, the mausoleum was built approximately 250m away on the approach road to the villa. 46 Structured as a vaulted tetraconch whose apses were encased in a thick exterior wall, the mausoleum was oriented east-west and preceeded by a small, double-apsed narthex with a tripartite doorway. Its walls were covered with frescos and its vaults encrusted with glass mosaics. Beneath the floor of its enlarged eastern apse was set a single, white marble sarcophagus,
137
"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
36. Reconstruction, Pueblanueva mausoleum, fourth century A.D. (Hauschild r 978, fig. r6).
oriented, like the building, east-west. While no clear signs distinguish the Christian function of the structure, the persistent eastern orientation of both building and sarcophagus strongly suggest, although do not prove, Christian affiliation. On the Dalmatian coast, the villa of Muline (Ugljan) is testimony to the strong continuity between pagan and Christian estate funerary monuments (Fig. 39).47 The villa was only partially excavated and summarily published, but seems to have been in use from the early imperial through the late antique periods as a center for the production and processing of olive oil and for maritime trade. 48 Some som from the villa was built a small tomb of temple form, possibly of high empire or late antique date. Another som away, in the
THE FORMS OF ESTATE WORSHIP
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~~ ~ villa's necropolis, a larger funerary building was constructed, consisting of a rectangular central hall, entered from the west and flanked by deep horseshoe apses as well as a rectangular exedra. Within each of the apses stood a single sarcophagus, the one within the southern apse being additionally elevated on a masonry platform. The whole of the structure seems to have been paved with polychrome mosaics. Later additions to the complex included a southwestern annex and a large entrance court. Immediately to the north of this building stood a three-apsed basilica with a synthronon and tripartite west end. The exact dates and chronological relationship of mausoleum and basilica are unclear, although it has been suggested that the mausoleum preceded the basilica.
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Again, it is not completely certain that this complex was built for Christian burial, but the orientation of the building and the nearby church make it likely. Yet another type of project is the small mausoleum/church at the villa of Vandoeuvres (Geneva) in eastern Alpine Gaul (Fig. 40).49 The modestly appointed villa was originally arranged around a large courtyard, but by the early fifth century, three hundred years of additions and changes had transformed the site into a large building to the north, and an earlier, fourth-century habitation zone to the south. The mausoleum was placed in the liminal zone between these areas, slightly to the west, and built adjacent to what seems to have been a small pagan shrine. It was a single-aisled, rectangular structure, oriented east-west, measuring a modest 7.5 by 5 meters. An original grave was set east-west along the south wall, the body encased in a tree-trunk that served as a sarcophagus. Seemingly immediately after this grave was laid, probably in the early fifth century, the eastern third of the church was marked off by the erection of a chancel barrier. A baptistery may have been built to the north, although its date is uncertain. 50 Again, the Christian affiliation of the original mausoleum phase cannot be proven, but only guessed at given the orientation of the sarcophagus. What each of these complexes, disparate in form and geography, ultimately share is an adherence to earlier traditions of estate-based burial, and a possible tendency to conflate burial and ritual structures. With the exception of Vandoeuvres, each of these mausolea is set some distance from its respective villa, on a topographic highpoint or an access road. As discussed in Chapter I, villa mausolea were traditionally positioned to mark space in the landscape and through the cult of the dead and memorialization of the seigniorial family, claim the land around them. The Christian examples seem to maintain the
141
"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
same traditions, and even the Vandoeuvres mausoleum/church, set close to the villa itself, may reflect Gallic traditions in which mausoleum and villa enjoyed a much closer spatial relationshipY Unlike their pagan predecessors, however, the ritual component of these mausolea is expanded and monumentalized: the separate eastern exedrae at Pueblanueva and Muline, positioned opposite the entrance, the careful succession of narthex, nave, and apse at La Cocosa, and the later chancel screens at Vandoeuvres, all seem designed to accommodate some kind of funerary-related ritual. This ritual, however elaborate, seems to have been largely directed towards the commemoration of individuals or families, and with the exception of Vandoeuvres with its possible baptistery, does not seem to have embraced a wider worshiping community nor show any signs of having accommodating eucharistic masses. Interestingly, in the later fifth through seventh centuries all of these mausolea were transformed into actual churches, the conversion motivated, perhaps, by a dim recollection of their original commemorative-ritual function. 52 The nature of these original rituals, however, is again unclear: the most common types of Christian funerary liturgies - graveside feasts and eucharistic masses - are not evident from the archaeological remains. Relic cult is another possibility, although far harder to prove. We have already encountered suburban elites providing their mausolea with relics, such as the deaconess Eusebia who had the relics of the Forty Martyrs placed over her casket in her villamausoleum, or Rufinus whose villa-Apostoleion complex also included his own tomb. 53 A series of suggestive sites tentatively suggest that provincial elites may have done the same, although the evidence is far from conclusive. The mausoleum set near the villa of La Alberca (Murcia) in southern Hispania may have been designed to mimic a martyrium: its odd two-story form, bristling with buttresses, uncannily duplicates the more famous mausoleum/martyrium in Marusinac near Salona in Dalmatia where the martyr's remains were laid in the crypt apse while private, family burials were placed in the main crypt chamber (Fig. 41).54 By the later fourth or early fifth century when the La Alberca mausoleum was constructed, the Dalmatian martyr shrine had become an important site of veneration: could this Spanish aristocrat have built his or her own mausoleum to evoke it?55 Off the Dalmatian coast itself, the island villa of Majsan may have boasted an ad corpus memoria: in the earlier necropolis adjacent to a rather rustic villa with central court, an east-west-oriented grave was laid sometime in the early fifth century and then immediately covered by an altar and surrounded by a small rectangular building. 56 Hundreds oflamps, possibly votives, littered the site, suggesting a locus sanctus of local renown. 57 Unfortunately, the fate of the villa during all this activity is uncertain: if it continued to function, its dominus might have been the impresario of the martyr's cult, but this is far from certain. The extraordinary site of Carranque (Madrid) in central Hispania, encapsulates the difficulties of sorting the funerary from the martyriallmemorial
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(Figs. 42-43).58 The villa boasts some of Hispania's finest late antique figural mosaics, imported marbles, and elaborate architectural spaces, all gathered around a small interior courtyard. Some 400m from the main villa lay a large (20 X 17m) domed building preceded by a grand entrance portico, attached
143
41. Reconstructions, La Alberca mausoleum, fourth century A.D. (top) and Marusinac, St. Anastasius martyrium, fourth century A.D. (bottom) (Schlunk and Hauschild I978, fig. 76a; Dygvve and Egger I939).
"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
Arial reconstruction, Carranque villa and domed structure, fourth-fifth centuries A.D. I = villa, 2 = nympheuml temple; 3 = domed building, 4 = modern visitor's center, 5 = Guadarama River (after http://www.jccm.es/cultura/ parquesl carranquelfotografiasl 3d/7 .htm). 42.
144
THE FORMS OF ESTATE WORSHIP
43. Plan and section, Carranque domed structure,
to a tetraconch mausoleum with its own portico complex. 59 The domed building was an extraordinary structure, with a central dome and four corner fourth-fIfth dornical vaults, all executed in pitched brick. 60 This, together with the pan- centuries A.D. (Fernandez Mediterranean origins of its marble decoration and its great size bespeak a Galiano 200 I, project of extraordinary richness and eastern inspiration. P.7 2 ) . The function of the complex, however, remains unclear: some marble fragments were carved with chi-rho's and crosses, suggesting a Christian function. However, these were found in a late destruction layer and thus may date from a subsequent period when the building was definitely used as a church. The most provocative evidence for an original Christian function comes from the identity of its supposed patron: Maternus Cynegius. The owner of the villa is
145
"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
named in a mosaic inscription as one "Maternus," and quarry marks of the Theodosian house have been identified on the domed building's columns. 61 Maternus was Theodosius 1's praetorian prefect, an ardent Christian, and a Spaniard. His wife is reported to have removed his body from the Church of the Holy Apostles in Constantinople, where it was originally laid to rest, and to have carried it back to Hispania. 62 Were this Maternus' villa, then the domed complex, so redolent of the East in its materials and construction styles, would likely have been his burial site. Indeed, with its main domed space, porticoes, and separate mausoleum complex, the site echoes the descriptions of Rufinus' villa-Apostoleion, itself an imitation of the revamped Holy Apostles in Constantinople. 63 At both the Holy Apostles and Rufinus' apostoleion, the main structure was a martyrium, adjacent to which was the founder's tomb. Unfortunately, the connection with Maternus is far from certain and thus the comparison with Constantinopolitan tomb-martyrium complexes cannot be sustained. 64 Nonetheless, Carranque presents yet another funerary structure, possibly Christian, in which the burial space is part of a larger ritual complex. Again, might the veneration of relics be combined here with personal commemoration? A private cult of relics would not necessarily leave the kind of archaeological footprint found in public martyr cult (multiple clustered burials, epigraphic commemoration, or aJenestella conJessionis), and thus no archaeological confirmation of these ideas can ever be forthcoming. Yet the widespread popularity of relics among elite Christians and the interest in bonding one's personal memoria with that of the saints makes this possibility logical, if not archaeologically demonstrable. In any case, the popularity of relic veneration among the elite, plus the general tendency to incorporate ritual action in Christian estatemausoleum design both suggest that the distinction between mausoleum and martyrium may have been blurred in the private sphere. 65
Extra- Villa Churches While both the small intra-villa churches and the villa-mausolea were primarily built for use of individuals and family, other Christian projects seem to have been intended for a wider community. The textual sources are replete with their traces; the Theodosian Code describes such churches as "customary" and placed the responsibility for guarding their orthodoxy on the shoulders of the estate owner or, in his or her absence, the procurator. 66 The Code further specified that the clergy for these churches were to be drawn from the estate's own workers.67 Augustine's works likewise describe estate-wide churches in a tone that leaves little doubt of their commonness on North African estates. Sidonius Apollinaris' description of an estate baptistery dedication ceremony at which the dependents' attendance was mandatory, and the angry accusations
THE FORMS OF ESTATE WORSHiP
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against Priscillian of Avila for convening estate-based masses, attest to similar projects elsewhere in the West. 68 Archaeological traces of these churches, however, are harder to find. Many proposed examples date after the abandonment or transformation of their villas into non-seigniorial habitation, while the placement of these churches some distance from their concomitant villas makes identifYing their "private" status frequently difficult. 69 A few good examples of the type have been unearthed, most of which are large, freestanding buildings set some distance from their villas and containing a full compliment of liturgical furnishings. At Palazzo Pignano (Cremona) in northern Italy, an unusual villa was accompanied by an equally unusual large church (Figs. 44-45).7 0 The villa
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was organized around an octagonal peristyle from which radiated a series of apsed reception rooms, habitations, and baths. To the east, a second complex, set on a different orientation than the octagonal building, contained both reception and agricultural facilities, while the function of an apsed hall to the south is unknown. While the dating remains troubled, it is believed that all three complexes were constructed in the fourth century, with major reconstructions in the early fifth. Also in the early fifth century a church was built about thirty meters to the west of the villa, echoing its unusual centralized plan. The church was circular with an encircling columned ambulatory and shallow apse, an unusual form (albeit probably without a dome) found most notably at Sta. Costanzain Rome. 71 The apse included a synthronon and perhaps a small central seat, or cathedra, and was preceded by a choir marked out by chancel screens. Somewhat at odds with this monumental sanctuary area was the small baptismal font, set in a room off the vestibule. The church was preceded by a monumental entrance, which may have faced a nearby road. Yet another solution is present at Loupian (Herault) in Languedoc; here the late fourth-/ early fifth-century phase of the villa seems to have been a small, but sumptuous affair, containing multiple, apsed reception rooms laid with fine mosaics and grouped around a courtyard (Figs. 46-47).7 2 At approximately the same time or slightly later, the church was constructed some 800m to the north of the villa. Although only half of the church could be excavated, it seems to have been a large (35 x lom) single-aisled hall, terminated by an inscribed apse with odd "dead" spaces at its edges. This same type of apse is found in the villa's triclinium. As at Palazzo Pignano, the complex included a large original
149
47. Plan, Loupian church, fourth-fifth centuries A.D. (Pellecuer 1995, P·48).
"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
baptistery and a series of interconnected rooms, some of which were probably used for baptismal ritual. At some later date, a bath complex was appended to the baptistery and a possible settlement, including what may be a small, but solid house, grew up nearby.73 Graves were laid outside the main apse, possibly set within some kind of funerary structure. At both Palazzo Pignano and Loupian, the churches' likely date and architectural parallels with their respective villas leave little doubt that they were built as part of their estates' prestige apparatus. In cases of somewhat later date, more modest churches were built in the rustic quarters of villas or in villas whose seigniorial quarters had shrunk. At Centallo (Piedmont) in northern Italy, for instance, a first-century villa burned in the late fourth or early fifth century and over its ruins was immediately built a modestly sized (22.3 x 19.5m), singleaisled church, complete with side rooms, one of which contained an original baptismal font (Fig. 48).74 Later, probably in the sixth century, the font was removed and the church filled with burials. While the limited excavations have uncovered no evidence for aristocratic living here, brick stamps and epitaphs indicate that the site continued to be the center of an estate frequented, if not inhabited, by rural elites. A number of North Afi·ican examples similarly seem to find industrial farms or very modest villas with an adjacent church. 75 For example, at Souk el-Lhoti in Tripolitania, a cluster of four stoutly built houses together farmed the floodwaters of an arid wadi (Fig. 49).76 By the early fifth century, two of these had fallen into disrepair, while two others across the wadi continued to thrive. At about this time a generously sized (25.2 x 12.6m) three-aisled basilica was constructed adjacent to the two defunct farms, reusing some of their stones. Slightly larger than its attendant farm houses, the church was built with a hodge-podge of masonry styles and boasted an original western apse, two pastophoria, and a slightly off-kilter vestibule. While again, highly idiosyncratic in plan, these churches' extra-villa topography, frequently large size, and ritual sophistication all suggest that they served not simply the dominus' family but also the broader estate-based community. The presence of original baptisteries in some examples strongly points to a community beyond the family, while the presence of altars, clergy benches, and pastophoria suggest services far more elaborate than those in the intra-villa churches and mausolea and more akin to those offered in public churches. Indeed, these very functions make it difficult to distinguish estate churches from parish churches and it is always possible that some of the above-cited examples were constructed not by the dominus / a or his/her agent, but by a nascent parish organization. However, as will be described more fully below, with the possible exception of the North African examples these villa churches were some of the earliest Christian buildings in their respective rural areas and preceded the earliest evidence for local parish organization by some half-century or more. These local realities combined with other
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evidence - architectural kinship with their respective villas and epigraphic testimony - point more insistently toward private initiative than episcopal sponsorship. In addition to churches that offered a full range ofliturgical services, other extra-villa churches seem to have functioned specifically as local martyr shrines. Augustine describes a number of such churches in the area around Hippo, founded by local elites who procured precious foreign relics and placed them in their estate churches. In the estate of Victoriana near Hippo, a shrine containing the relics of saints Gervasius and Protasius, the Milanese martyrs,
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"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
was being used by the lady of the house and her retinue when a young man possessed by the devil was brought in and exorcised, the cure affected by both the relics and the pious lady's hymns.7 7 Hesperius, the owner of an estate near Fussala, was given some earth from Jerusalem which he placed in an estate church built purposely to hold it. Again, a local rusticus was brought to the church where the holy dust cured his paralysis. 78 Another estate called Audurus had a shrine containing Stephen's relics, which produced cures for both a local boy crushed by a wagon and a virgin from a nearby estate. 79 These shrines seemed to act as local points of holy power, serving simultaneously the daily requirements of the seigniorial faInily and the extraordinary needs of the surrounding populations - estate workers, other domini, even children. Those lucky enough to procure martyr's bodies Inight even construct ad corpus villa-martyria. Near an unexcavated, probable villa site at Marialba outside Leon in northern Hispania, a large, apsed tomb or temple structure was begun in the early fourth century, but left unfinished. 80 In the late fourth or early fifth century, it was finally completed, but with a wholly different function: thirteen well-constructed graves were laid in its raised apse, and the building was provided with a groin vault and double-apsed narthex. The modifications and graves strongly point to a martyrial project, possibly initiated by the estate owner. Coincidentally, a local legend tells of thirteen soldier saints, martyred in the late third to fourth centuries, which would seem to fit the structural remains. The legend can be traced back no further than the thirteenth century, and even then many of the thirteen martyrs seem to have been "borrowed" from other legends. However, it is possible that the legend itself was crafted in response to a persistent villa-based cult that had developed a certain public renown.
Estate Asceticism We have already encountered ascetically minded elites in their urban homes praying, fasting, and meeting with their ascetic peers. But for a Marcella or even a Jerome, the rural estate, removed from the bustle and temptations of the city, was a far better place to renounce the world. 81 Just as the first ascetics in Rome were home-based, western rural asceticism likewise began in the villas of provincial aristocrats. 82 Casual asides in patristic literature suggests that a growing number of elites were pursuing a wide variety of villa-based ascetic regimes - the Spanish couple who lived on their estate in chaste piety, gave away much of their wealth and sent scribes to copy Jerome's works; or the solitary gentleman friend of Sidonius in central Gaul who, when he wasn't hunting and hawking, chanted psalms throughout the day and read the Scriptures at dinner.83 Detailed descriptions of these ascetics lives - their daily routines, church building activities, and the intersection between ascetic rigor and the demands of estate management - are far rarer and archaeological
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evidence is essentially non-existent. 84 The fullest account of villa-asceticism is found in the correspondence between Meropius Pontius Paulinus, builder of a villa-monastery-martyr shrine outside the city of Nola in Campania, and Sulpicius Severus, who retreated to his own estate, Primuliacum, west of Toulouse. From their correspondence emerges a description of ascetic life intimately connected with estate life and with the broader phenomenon of estate-based Christianity.
153
"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
Paulinus hailed from a senatorial family whose ancestral estates lay in the villa-rich lands around Bordeaux. 8s His spiritual journey from country gentleman and governor to ascetic was accompanied by life changes: the death of his brother and later his son, his marriage to the Spanish Therasia, and the couple's move to her estates in northeastern Hispania. There his worldview, and his projection of self, began to change: where once his rural retreats inspired him to compose bucolic epigrams and to join in his fellow landowners' epistolary contests of wit and classical learning, the countryside now whispered to him of God's presence. 86 Forest streams were pools of faith waiting to quench his parched soul, the night skies whispered of salvation and his own rural solitude seemed to echo that of John the Baptist in the wilderness. 87 His friend and mentor Ausonius viewed his dwindling interest in literary pursuits as an abandonment of their friendship; to reject the muses was to sever the web of competition and amicitia that bound rural elites together. 88 Even more scandalous to his friends was the spectacular renunciation of his property and his eventual departure from Hispania for his ancestral lands around N ola in 395. 89 With his wife in tow, he settled down near the tomb of the confessor Felix. It was a spot which had already impressed him as a child and which he had already patronized during his stint as Campania's provincial governor. 90 Paulinus may also have had family property near the shrine, for the necropolis in which Felix was buried may have had originated as a private cemetery, clustered near a suburban villa. 91 Near Felix's tomb Paulinus proceeded to build or rebuild a two-story porticoed complex he called a monasterium, the top of which was occupied by he and his followers while the ground floor was used by pilgrims and the sick. 92 No certain traces of this residence have been found, although the first-century villa re-fitted with late antique columns unearthed some 75m east of the tomb site is a good candidate. 93 At the tomb itself Paulinus built a splendid new church, facing an earlier, smaller basilica. Laid out along a wholly new kind of plan with a niched apse and large side chambers and clad in mosaic and imported marbles, the basilica was a material tour-de-force, paid for entirely out of Paulinus' own pocket.9 4 It was also an intensely personal project, covered with Paulinus' own verse inscriptions that interpreted each piece of the building through his own unique Christian hermeneutic. 9s Despite Ausonius' accusations of religious radicalism, Paulinus' repudiation of poetry and property and his move to N ola were less a total departure than an ideological rotation around the same social axis. Although ordained a presbyter under duress in Barcelona in 394, Paulinus never took up presbyteral duties in that city as church law mandated. From his arrival outside Nola in 395 until his assumption to Nola's episcopate sometime between 409 and 412, he resided near the shrine of St. Felix simply as a private person, one whose public stature
154
THE FORMS OF ESTATE WORSHIP
was a product of his family's local reputation, his very obvious asceticism, as well as an unremitting public relations campaign. 96 Paulinus' initial loud renunciation of worldly belongings likewise disguised a more carefully considered "salvation economics," which rejected the products of vanity and leisure, but pronounced as safe all property used for charitable and pious purposes. 97 Indeed, Paulinus retained a sizable property base in both Italy and Gaul and even those properties given over to the church he continued to manage through slaves and servants. 98 The shrine of Felix may itself have been the site of a large periodic market or nundina, which Paulinus, as the site's new master, would have exploited for both prosyletic as well as economic purposes. 99 In his new home, Paulinus built a world not unlike that he left behind in Hispania and Aquitaine, a world where gardens, fountains, shining mosaics, good wine, and the comings and goings offriends punctuated the days as surely as did the rituals of prayer and fasting. 100 Indeed, in his yearly natalicia, or Felix's feast-day speeches, Paulinus repeatedly described Felix's shrine as a spiritualized fundus, an estate in which he, Paulinus, assumed the role of colonuslaboring for Felix, his 10rd. loI Though he called himself a farmer of Christ and Felix, however, his work was spiritual and literary, rather than manual. As scholar, seigniorial lord, and spiritual master, Paulinus was very much a Christian dominus. Like his new basilica, the community Paulinus gathered round him was highly idiosyncratic and based around friends and family. Its core was Paulinus, Therasia, and their dependent slaves and servants; it also occasionally included other aristocratic amici, like Melania the Elder and her family who spent part of the year 400 at N ola, but their presence was intermittent rather than permanent, a kind of extended prayerful salutatio. l02 Once per year, great crowds of country folk gathered at the shrine for Felix's natalicia with its great barbeque and market. IQ3 These peasants, however praised by Paulinus, were kept in their place: when one of these rustici had the temerity to actually build a hut in Paulinus' courtyard garden, Felix wisely caused it to be burned down, for the hierarchies of rural life were not to be toyed with lightly. 104 An epistolary contingent of friends and advisors formed the final piece of the Nolan community. As present through their letters and holy gifts as were the peripatetic peasants, Sulpicius Severus and his mother-in-law Bassula, the provincial governor Aper and his wife Amanda, and dozens of others "accompanied" Paulinus and Therasia in their devotions, encouraging, petitioning for advice and favors, or exchanging relics, all through the medium ofletters. I05 Paulinus' friend Sulpicius Severus' own ascetic project was similar to the Nolan community in a variety of ways. Although he couldn't boast the highlevel bureaucratic positions or family ties of his friend, Sulpicius was another Aquitainian aristocrat of some standing whose decision to abandon public office after the death of his wife and retreat to his villa was met with shock
155
"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
and dismay by his peers. '06 Primuliacum was one of Sulpicius' family estates; like Paulinus he retained it and other properties after a partial renunciation of his possessions, although he may have ceded usufruct rites to the church. 107 Sulpicius' companion in retreat was his mother-in-law, Bassula, who moved to Primuliacum with him and seems to have assumed the same round of daily prayer and spiritual education. 108 Unlike his friend, Sulpicius seems to have taken under his wing a number oflocal boys, mostly aristocrats' sons, to whom Sulpicius imparted scriptural instruction. '09 Despite the round of teaching and prayer, Primuliacum also functioned as a proper rural estate with Sulpicius as its dominus: grape harvests were brought in, aristocratic friends continued to visit, and Paulinus had to chastise his friend for failing to exchange his silver serving platters for wooden ones. IIO The most overt physical expression of Sulpicius' altered mentalite was two churches andjoining baptistery he built on the site, each a monument not only to his fervent faith, but also to his friends and family. I I I As Paulinus looked to Felix, Sulpicius' spiritual patronus was Martin of Tours, the monk-bishop with whom the Gallic aristocrat first practiced the ascetic arts some years earlier at Marmoutier, and whom he had counted as both friend and mentor. Having lost his bid to obtain Martin's body for the Primuliacum church, Sulpicius had to be content with that of Martin's acolyte, Clarus. II2 Sulpicius' second church held a piece of the True Cross dispatched by Paulinus who had received it from Melania the Elder, as well as other relics from the Holy Land brought back by Paulinus' acquaintance Silvia, the sister-in-law ofRufinus, builder of the Chalcedonian Apostoleion and originally an Aquitainian local. II3 Paulinus' verses decorated this new basilica, while his image, alongside that of Martin, sparkled in the new baptistery. This second basilica is additionally described as a "family church," and it is possible that it additionally served as a burial monument for Sulpicius' blood family, perhaps his beloved wife whose death prompted his ascetic withdrawal. I 14 It is important to view projects like Paulinus and Sulpicius' with eyes unfettered by the development oflater monasticism. II5 To be sure, these were some of the first experiences in rural ascetic living in the West involving radical changes in daily life and mentalite. They were not, however, monasteries, at least according to our post-Benedictine expectations. Neither Primuliacum nor the group around Felix's shrine was characterized by a monastic rule, the spiritual equality of its members, a routine of manual lab or, prayer and study, or strict vows of poverty. Rather, these communities were the idiosyncratic products of their individual elite impresarios. II6 As such, they were bound by many of the same ties, and set within the same physical environment, common to villa life more generally: ascetic partners were kin or friends; seigniorial hierarchies ruled the roost; competition with other elites, now centering on spiritual matters, motivated both letter writing and building; while the villa itself seems to have remained the unaltered center oflife, its reception spaces,
THE fORMS Of ESTATE WORSHIP
gardens, and decorative apparatus now pressed into Christian service. Paulinus and Sulpicius' "monasteries" were, in physical and social fact, villas. II7 Even the countryside itself, whose rocks, trees, and villa buildings now sparkled with Christian symbolism, was still the locus of elite identity as projected through letters and poems. lI8 In short, Paulinus and Sulpicius' projects and the dozens of other ascetic retreats founded by elites throughout the West were fundamentally shaped by villa life, villa economies, and the particular habits of the landed elite. In this sense, estate-asceticism was very much a subset of estate-based worship and piety.
Estate-Based Clergy Much, if not most villa-based Christian worship of this period probably did not require any clergy: private prayer and funerary rituals were probably often left to individual initiative and the supervision of the dominus and domina. However, the elaborate liturgical furnishings in many extant estate churches, plus a certain body of textual evidence, suggest that some estates maintained permanent clergy. A 398 Theodosian Code edict required that estate clergy be ordained from their respective estate populations so that clerics didn't duck out on their assigned tax responsibilities. lI9 The law implies that estate-clergy were sufficiently numerous and their tax burdens so onerous as to require bureaucratic attention. The fifth canon of the council of Toledo (397-400) required all clergy, even those attached to "any place in which there is a church, either in a castellum or a vicus or villas," to attend to their church everyday: the ruling seems intended to castigate lazy clerics and it likewise implies that clergy were attached to rural estates in Hispania. 120 Sulpicius counted among his companions at Primuliacum a number of clergy, including the priests Evagrius, Aetherius, and Aurelius, the deacon Calupio, and the subdeacon Amator. 121 These do not seem to have been permanent community members, however, and it is not clear if any of them led services or were simply there out of friendship with Sulpicius. North Mrican estates clearly supported permanent clergy and even bishops might be stationed in rural villas. 122 Melania the Younger had both a Donatist and an Orthodox bishop to minister to her vast estate near Thagaste, while Augustine tried to foist the spectacularly corrupt bishop Antoninus onto an estate called Thogonoetum until the domina, urged on by her tenants, refused to have him. 1 2 3 The case of Antoninus not withstanding, estate clergy would have been typically selected from amongst the estate population by the dominus or domina. Although not codified as a specific seigniorial privilege until the sixth century, the right of a landowner to select his own clergy is implied both by the 398 edict and a sermon of John Chrysostom which touted the various advantages of having an estate church, including the right to nominate a cleric of one's choosing. 124 Although the later regulations required that the landlord's choice
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be approved by the local bishop, no such restrictions appear in the earlier evidence and it is most likely that fourth- and early fifth-century landowners nominated their clergy without any formal application process. Thus, probably even more so than urban domestic clergy, estate clerics were under the thumb of their seigniorial lords on whose lands they lived as tenants and to whom they owed their clerical position.
SOCIAL QUALITIES OF ESTATE-BASED CHRISTIANITY
Whether an ascetic community or an intra-villa church, the many forms of estate Christianity were emphatically shaped by their estates and thus reflected the age-old social and monumental habits of their seigniorial elite. These social qualities are suggested by both the minutia of archaeological detail and the more expansive commentaries of Christian estate owners. For instance, the location of villa churches and mausolea is particularly revealing: the intra-villa chapels like that at Lullingstone seem to have been set slightly off main circulation axes, apart from the principal reception spaces, but their size relative to that of the whole complex accorded them a certain monumentality. Each took their form from a pre-existing space, Villa Fortunatus even adopting an odd, north-south orientation rather than break the villa's overall spatial harmony. That is, these chapels were provided a sacred space apart, but were nonetheless carefully integrated into the villa's monumental whole. The majority of other monuments, the mausolea of ambiguous function or the larger basilicas, adopted the placement of earlier estate mausolea and pagan temples and were set free-standing some distance apart from the domestic core. 125 These were monuments as much as cult sites; occupying geographic highpoints, like Pueblanueva, or possible roadside sites, like Palazzo Pignano, or even the limits of the villa territory like Loupian, these buildings claimed space through their topography, marking seigniorial territory at some remove from the monumental core and broadcasting seigniorial power, through the medium of religion, to passers-by. The various ritual functions of these enterprises likewise reflected seigniorial social relationships, particularly the bonds of kinship and dependency. The small churches inside villa walls, entered directly through the residence itself, seem to have sheltered the devotions of individuals or families, like the family arrayed in their Sunday best on the rear wall of the Lullingstone chapel. In these little churches one can hear an echo of Ausonius' prayers, uttered for the prosperity of his family and his continued good name. A broader community of tenants and other dependents is suggested by the extra-villa basilicas with baptisteries and other liturgical facilities. The large basilica at Loupian or Paulinus' complex outside Nola seem to have been designed as points of cultic
SOCIAL QUALITIES OF ESTATE-BASED CHRISTIANITY
magnetism for far-flung estate populations and the surrounding countryside more generally. Like the earlier tradition of villa temples whose topography they maintained, these projects also projected seigniorial power through cultic monuments aimed at non-seigniorial populations. The communities they hosted would have consisted largely of estate workers and tenants, that is, those already dependent on the dominus who sponsored the project, while the clergy who supervised these communities were similarly dependent on seigniorial goodwill for both their clerical and workaday jobs. Thus, even these broader estate-based communities were composed of the estate familia and shaped by seigniorial dependency relationships. The abiding sense of social continuity between these Christian projects and earlier forms of estate-based ritual is occasionally evident through the succession of cultic structures on the same spot. At Vandoeuvres and Lullingstone, for instance, the small Christian buildings seem to have replaced earlier pagan shrines, which at least in Lullingstone's case, was dedicated to family based cult much as was the later church. Many other cases are less clear: at Loupian, an enigmatic structure adjacent to the large basilica has been tentatively identified as an earlier temple; at the great villa of Valentine (Haute Garonne) a very large estate temple seems to have received a Christian building sometime in the fifth or sixth centuries, possibly while its villa was still occupied in some manner. I26 The replacement of pagan temple with Christian church as studied in urban contexts is typically ascribed to a whole host of impulses, ranging from purposeful eradication to pragmatism. 127 Here in the rural private, the maintenance of a cultic space may suggest the maintenance of social function - the continued centrality of seigniorial family or estate-wide familia to the religious community. Yet we should be wary of interpreting these larger estate churches primarily as proselytic projects: there is very little evidence that fourth- and early fifthcentury rural elites actively converted their peasantry, and indeed, aristocrats from Turin to Hippo earned the ire oflocal bishops for treading lightly around their pagan coloni. I28 Even Sulpicius, with his two churches and baptistery, is never found stumping the estate's villages and farms for prospective converts. At the small shrine/mausoleum at Vandoeuvres and perhaps at Muline, the villa church included original aristocratic burials, presumably of the seigniorial family. N ondifferentiated burials appear in most estate churches only later, suggesting that their original function was as aristocratic funerary monuments and only later did they serve the burial needs of the wider community. 129 Thus, what superficially appear as estate-based conversion efforts may have been motivated by commemorative impulses or an ancient tendency to exploit the community-forming qualities of religion to foster estate unity. Although it leaves no trace in the archaeological record, we should not forget the importance offriendship and patronage bonds to these communities.
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Such villa-based friendship and patronage communities had a long history: stoics like Seneca formed such long-distance circles to aid their contemplative exercises while ensconced in their villas, while Pliny's less structured pursuit of the Muses on his estates was aided by epistolary buddies. I30 Long-distance amicitia similarly shaped the Christian villa communities ofPaulinus, Ausonius, and Sulpicius. I3I It enabled competition between elites to take place over distance; in letters from the late 390S, Sulpicius and Paulinus jostled for spiritual position, each proclaiming the higher status of his spiritual "patron," Felix and Martin, respectively. I32 The two also exchanged descriptions and plans of their respective estate church projects in a gentlemanly game of one-upmanship. I33 Even letter carriers were assumed to reflect the attitude of the sender and were subject to detailed, comparative critique. I34 Christian ascetic letter-writing communities were, like their pagan predecessors, arenas for the velvet-glove melees that created elite status. At the same time, friendship networks were nurturing, with correspondents acting as sounding boards, cheerleaders, and interlocutors through the stages of spiritual growth. Paulinus and Severus' letter exchanges even had a sacramental quality; both the letters they exchanged and even the "eulogia" bread they dispatched to one another along with the letters were evidence of a shared communion. I35 The "private" of the rural estate thus included this "virtual" friendship community, a tradition maintained and transformed by Christian domini. These friendship and patronage networks were in turn specifically shaped by the villa itself, for it was the villa that served both as a physical home and mental locus of elite self-identity. Paulinus of Nola continually presents himself as an agricola, a farmer of Felix, and describes his struggles to live a Christian life as those of the farmer who labors in the expectation of a full harvest. I3 6 He employs Horatian and Virgilian turns of phrase not merely as learned ornament, but as the traditional language of all those - Stoics, Neo-Platonists, and Christians alike - who sought meaning in rural nature. I37 Friendship by letter exchange was itself the delicious product of rural distances, in which the natural separation from one's friends brought about by countryside retreat was nonetheless eagerly bridged by the pen. I3 8 Even the give and take ofletters, accompanying or actually constituting the request and conferral of favors, imitated the visits to friends and neighbors so much a part of villa life, and thus the ritual of patrocinium itself. In short, Christian worship and community in western villas was a product of the estate and of the landholding elites who were its impresarios. In this respect, estate Christianity reflected the particular concerns of that rural society, a society that poured its social and imaginative capital into its estates. As a product of these stimuli, Christian villa communities were structured by the same mechanisms that structured the estate itself: kinship, rural economic hierarchies, and the ties of patronage and friendship. The particular "private" of the rural estate thus left its indelible mark on the Christianity it produced.
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BISHOPS AND RURAL ELITES: ESTATE CHRISTIANITY IN LOCAL CONTEXT
BISHOPS AND RURAL ELITES: ESTATE CHRISTIANITY IN LOCAL CONTEXT
The above discussion has examined estate Christianity on its own terms, as a product of its own particular seigniorial social logic. In doing so, it has purposefully ignored the view from without . Specifically, no mention has been made of the traditional protagonist in rural Christian narratives, the bishop. What role did bishops play on rural estates? How did they regard rural private churches and the rural elites who built them? And how did estate-based Christian communities fit, nor not, into broader episcopal agendas? In other words, how did the episcopal public respond to the rural private? There is no single answer to these questions, but many: as landscape, demography, and church history varied from Britain to North Africa, so, too, did both the specific forms of estate-based Christianity and the relationships between bishops and elites. 139 This section will thus examine elite-episcopal relationships by examining three different regions of the rural West. The aim in each case is to repopulate the landscape around villa churches and by bringing the local nuances of economy, settlement, and episcopal topography to life, make local sense of bishops' responses to private churches. These case studies again suggest that the form and function of Christianity on rural estates was shaped by the form and function of the estates themselves. Thus, particular regional socio-economies seem to have produced particular forms of estate communities. In North Mrica, where elites invested less of their social capital in monumental villas, estate churches were built largely for tenants and dependents, and functioned largely as mechanisms for social control. In other areas of the West where elites used their villas for the production of status, Christian projects were more self- and family oriented, natural outgrowths of the villa as carrier of seigniorial identity. These very different kinds of estate Christianities, as well as each region's own Christian history, helped shape varying responses from bishops, ranging from cautious cooperation to angry condemnation. In North Africa, seigniorial absenteeism and powerful tenant organizations forced landowners to look to bishops for help in controlling their populous Christian communities, even as they worried about bishops' potentially fractious influence. At the other end of the spectrum lay Hispania and Aquitaine, where the Priscillianist controversy pitted powerful rural elites and their communities against bishops struggling to control a thinly urbanized landscape. In most other areas, rural elites operated their small estate communities beyond the episcopal radar screen and bishops are most notable for their absence in estate church affairs. Either in cooperation or confrontation, the cumulative experience of these various regions highlights the profound differences between seigniorial and episcopal modes of organizing Christian communities. Bishops and elites were not natural "allies," for each envisioned Christian communities built around very different tenets, for very different ends. This systemic dissonance meant
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that the so-called "Christianization" of the countryside was not simply a battle between recalcitrant pagans and Christians, but just as importantly a battle between two very different kinds of Christian community.
Working with Bishops: North Afi'ica (Fig. 50) North Africa's countryside was unlike anywhere else in the West and its Christian history, and particularly its rural estate Christianity, were products of its unique, active landscape. 140 The limited archaeological evidence describes a densely populated countryside whose heyday, unlike its northern cousins, ran from the second to third centuries, with more modest growth in the fourth through sixth centuries. Since the first century A.D. the North African provinces constituted the principal grain source for the city of Rome, and in the second century, as the Italian and Baetican oil industries faltered, it was Tripolitania and Mauretania Caesariensis who provided the bulk of the city's oiL 141 The fourth and fifth centuries brought decline or a measured stability in some areas, while in others, such as the wadis ofTripolitania and some valleys of Pro consular is new sites were built to replace the 01d. 142 The inhabitants of this bustling countryside lived in a dizzying variety of settlements attested by both textual sources and field survey. Agglomerated settlements or vici might cover dozens of hectares and consist of either a haphazard maze of houses, fortified farms and their agro-industrial facilities, or a carefully arranged grid of streets, baths, temples, and assembly buildings almost urban in plan. 143 Castella, which seem to have abounded particularly in Numidia, were agglomerations even farther along the road to urbanization, but which had not yet received municipal status. 144 Actual military garrisons might also be termed castella or castra and a ragged line of these forts ran through the pre-desert from Mauretania Tingitana through Tripolitania where they dwindled. 145 Vici and other settlements might cluster around these forts, providing labor and sustenance. Outside these rural agglomerations lay a carpet of farms. Typically built around a central courtyard with an oil press building and water storage facilities, farms of various sizes dotted the coastal and inland valleys. 146 In many areas, particularly the southern hills and pre-desert of Numidia and Tripolitania, these farmsteads were often fortified, built on escarpments or other topographic highpoints and/or surrounded by walls and towers. 147 The larger rural estates, or fundi, might be composed not only of small farms, but potentially a combination of farms, vici and castella. 148 The fundus Aufidianus in Proconsularis, for instance, seems to have included a major estate center, scattered farms, and one or two large agglomerations. 149 Some imperial estates boasted agglomerations so populous they eventually became cities. 150 An individual estate thus might embrace a whole variety of human settlements, each with its own particular social character. Estates' human hierarchy was similarly complicated. The land was worked by a combination of slaves,
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BISHOPS AND RURAL ELITES: ESTATE CHRISTIANITY IN LOCAL CONTEXT
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•, itinerant laborers, and most importantly coloni, or sharecroppers, who leased the land. I5I Conductores, middlemen who held leases on the same land, might be employed to supervise these workers and collect their rents, while vi/ici or bailiffs may have been the day-to-day stand-ins for wealthier conductores who resided primarily in cities. I52 Overseers, or procuratores, formed the living link between the dominus and his various dependents. I53 A shift towards longerterm leases beginning in the 250S on the part of both the imperial fisc and private landholders seems to have not only boosted productivity, but cemented these tenurial relationships and stabilized rural settlements. 154 What is perhaps most remarkable about this bustling landscape is the limited, or at least very particular expressions of elite seigniorial status. Fine elite mansions, fitted with mosaic floors, baths, and fine reception halls, seem to have been limited to coastal clusters, particularly near great cities such as Carthage, Caesarea, and Lepcis Magna, and were largely a trend of the second and third centuries. I55 In upland Tripolitania and probably Numidia, the looming, third- through seventh-century fortified farms were probably built by the rural gentry, their finely built stone exteriors, sculpted doorways, and proud
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"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
dedication inscriptions the confident testimony of a local agro-military elite. 15 6 In the vast majority of late rural settlements, however, the landowning elite are often hard to find. Most sites exude the sturdy practicality of those who worked the land with their own hands: the majority of farms found in the Kasserine, Segermes, and Caesarea surveys were built of rubble or roughly shaped stone, with stone or beaten earth floors.157 Occasionally an outlying bath complex offered some relaxation to the area's denizens, while cemeteries were generally humble. 15 8 Apses, that emblem of elite presence elsewhere in the West, were most frequently added to so-called "trough buildings," agricultural buildings used perhaps to store and distribute produce. 159 Even the majority of the fortified farms, like that excavated at Nabor, were built for work, not leisure, their expanses taken up with oil and wine presses, storage barns, and water cisterns, not dining rooms or gardens. 160 While the evidence is still very fragmentary, it would seem that North African elites monumentalized their estates only in limited ways, while the coloni and others who worked the land left as deep a mark on the built environment as did their seigniorial overlords. 161 These coloni and their overseers shine forth equally strongly from the epigraphic record. North Africa boasts a particularly bountiful rural epigraphic corpus, one which finds these small farmers organizing themselves into powerful groups.162 Inscribed complaints registered by second-century coloni against rapacious conductores littered the imperial estates in the Bagradas valley of Proconsularis. 163 These complaints were voiced by the group's leaders, termed magistri and difensores, who seem to have held regular terms, just like civic officials. 164 Coloni organizations even undertook building projects: a group of third-century Numidian coloni calling themselves the "Vesatenses" and represented by their leader, a certain Felix, erected a statue to honor their dominus. 165 The farmers on the fundus Iubaltianensis in Byzacena were even more organized: their two magistri organized the reconstruction of a temple to Pluto and dedicated the project to the Tetrarchs, while an arcarius collected and managed their communal treasury. 166 These demographically complex estates and their noisy colonate presented landowners with significant managerial challenges. It was essential to unify the dispersed populations on a given estate, giving them some social coherence that might mitigate the fragmenting affects of time and distance, and thereby making rent and tax collection, haranguing, and general problem solving easier. 167 One way North African estate owners encouraged such collusion was the combined enticements of shopping and religion. As discussed in Chapter I, larger estates, particularly those with estate vici, seem to have hosted periodic estate markets or nundinae. 168 These were probably not designed to sell the estate's produce, but rather to serve as a local market for coloni and other rural denizens to buy or barter essential goods. Landowners may have taxed the participants, thereby earning some extra income, but the markets' raison d'etre
BISHOPS AND RURAL ELITES: ESTATE CHRISTIANITY IN LOCAL CONTEXT
seem to have been social- facilitating rent and tax collection and most importantly, integrating far-flung estate populations while keeping rurallabor close to home. 169 These markets might also coincide with religious festivals, and temples formed part of their material fabric: the landowner Phosphorus, for instance, built a periodic market on his estate 50km from Cirta and with it dedicated a temple to the Romano-African goddess Caelestis.170 Coloni themselves are frequently found building their own religious buildings, such as the abovementioned Iubaltianses and their temple to Pluto, or the "coloni of the round tower estate" who repaired a temple to Caelestis Augusta, supervised by their own imperial cult priest.17 1 Such rural religious euergetism went a long way toward placating and unifYing these potentially fissiparous estate populations. As Christianity grew in popularity among the rural populations during the fourth century, churches increasingly became part of estates' monumental apparatus just as temples and markets had before. Finding their material traces, however, is complicated by both scholarly shortfalls and the particularities of the North African estate. Christian architectural studies and the great antiquarian surveys describe rural churches in some detail, but not their accompanying settlements, while modern surveys have carefully recorded the settlements, but found few traces of churches. Furthermore, the North African estate itself, as suggested above, has no particular material footprint: individual farms and agglomerations might all be embraced within its arc. Thus, some of the hundreds of small villages that carpeted central Numidia, for instance, were doubtless part of estates, and thus some of those village churches were actually estate churches. 172 How is one to distinguish these estate churches from other churches? The impossibility of excavating ownership is particularly acute here and admits no easy solution. Separating churches from the agrarian "trough buildings" with apses and aisles is also tricky.1 73 Neither churches nor farms are well-dated, although most estimates tend to place churches in the fifth century and later, rather than earlier. The archaeological picture is thus extremely sketchy. The best extant examples, bolstered by textual sources, tentatively suggest that North African rural estate churches were primarily built to serve estatewide populations. 174 Nearly all of the possible candidates for estate churches were built of the same local stone and rough construction techniques as their respective farms, although they might have some rough sculptural decoration or painted plaster. 175 Although they vary widely in size, from Souk el-Lhoti (Tripolitania) which is slightly larger (25.2 x 12.6m) (see Fig. 49) than its nearby fortified farm, to the small churches (approx. 12 X Srn) at the possible estate nucleus in the Mechira Valley (Numidia), most seem to have been freestanding buildings. Many boasted altars, choirs, and pastophoria, while baptisteries seem to have been added at a later date, as at the fortified farm churches at Souk el-Lhoti and Chafagi Aamer (Tripolitania). Inscriptional evidence, albeit somewhat later, from the possible estate churches at Mechira, Rouis, and Nn
165
"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
Zirara (all in Numidia) describes a thriving cult of martyrs nurtured by locals. Thus, although the evidence is rife with problems, it would seem that most of these estate churches were built to serve the broader estate community. Such churches would have formed natural cohesion points on these far-flung estates. On the estate at Souk el-Lhoti, a collection offortified farms spread out along wadi's edge, working collectively to collect the intermittent floodwaters and to store communal produce. 176 The church lay between them, the single central meeting place for the dispersed settlements. Similarly at Chafagi Aamer, the church hovered protectively over a cluster of nearby farms, each built on nearby outcrops. In the densely settled plain southwest of Constantine in central Numidia, many estates may have boasted churches; indeed, at Mechira, three or more small chapels seem to have served a dense carpet of farms and villages. This area had been aJundus belonging to one Antonia Saturnina, who some centuries earlier had built a market (nundina) for the benefit of her large estate; now it was the memoria marturibus that drew these scattered settlements together. 177 Managerial issues were probably also on the mind of Hesperius, the landowner described by Augustine as having built a church on his farm of Zubedi outside Hippo.I7 8 The farm was possessed by evil spirits and Hesperius called a local presbyter to exorcise both cattle and persons alike by performing a mass. Impressed by the livestock and laborers saved by the act, Hesperius built an estate church to which he donated his own fragment of holy earth from Jerusalem. Immediately the church began doing its hoped-for work and locals flocked to Zubedi to be healed. While landowners had good reason to fund or encourage estate churches, the generally modest construction of these churches, plus the long tradition of colonate building projects, suggest that many were probably instigated and constructed by the c%ni themselves. Such was the case with a Numidian church, possibly constructed on an estate but built by plebes from a collection of neighboring settlements or estates, the Venusianeses, the Mucrionenses, and the Cuzabetenses. I79 Each group contributed columns and other building materials and proudly recorded their respective contributions in the dedicatory inscription. Indeed, in some cases church building may have even been foisted on landowners by their feisty tenants. Melania the Younger and her husband Pinianus were said to have had not only two churches on their vast estate near Thagaste, but two bishops to supervise them, one Catholic and one Donatist. 180 Why would the very orthodox Melania have sponsored a Donatist church on her estate? It can only have been to satisfy the various religious preferences of the estate's vast population. 181 Elites were sensitive to their tenants' demands and estate churches might serve not only as bully pulpits, but also as pacifiers. 182It was in this constant, difficult dance between tenants' demands and estate management that a certain partnership seems to have been forged between
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BISHOPS AND RURAL ELITES: ESTATE CHRISTIANITY IN LOCAL CONTEXT
local bishops and rural elites. 183 Unlike most areas of the West, bishops were a significant presence in the North African countryside already in the fourth century. Thus, it is hardly surprising that North Mrica boasts some of the most abundant evidence for episcopally appointed clergy serving on rural estates: urban bishops like Augustine spent much time and effort monitoring and encouraging their elite rural parishioners, while many rural settlements came to have bishops of their own. 184 These rural bishops might be stationed on private and imperial estates, as well as in vici, castra, and other rural sites. In part, these rural bishoprics were a product of the Donatist controversy in which Donatist and orthodox vied for power and converts through escalating rural ordinations. As a recent study has suggested, however, these rural bishops were also a natural response to the demands of North Africa's populous Christian countryside, particularly its powerful estates and semi-urban agglomerations. 185 As is evident from Augustine's letters and the example of Melania, rural landowners seem to have tolerated, even welcomed these estate-based bishops. One landlord even took the time to pen a thank-you note to a bishop for so effectively converting his peasantry from Donatism. 186 The affairs surrounding the disastrous tenure of Antoninus, bishop of the castellum Fussala, provide further insights into these seigniorial-episcopal relationships. 187 Antoninus was a young lector in Augustine's Hippo monastery, hastily promoted to lead the rural Fusalla flock. The Fusalla community had previously been Donatist, but the Donatists had left and a bishop was needed to solidify orthodox teaching. Antoninus proved to be a rapacious scoundrel, stealing building materials to build a splendid house and beating and imprisoning the parishioners who refused to help him. The angry Fusallans called upon Augustine to remove him, and Augustine scrambled to find the prelate a new position. Antoninus proposed the nearby estate of Thogonoetum to be his new see and claimed to have secured the approval of its owner, a clarissima femina. 188 The estate's tenants, however, refused the now-infamous Antoninus, writing letters of protest to their absent domina who in turn wrote to Augustine. 189 The lady of Thogonoetum was clearly not averse to having a bishop, and indeed may have been tempted to agree to Antoninus' proposition. The choice of candidate, however, seems to have been subject to her veto, which, in Antoninus' case, she ultimately exercised upon her tenants' urging. 190 Why landowners would want a rural bishop is suggested, somewhat ironically, both by the actions of those who tried to oust Antoninus and of those who eventually accepted him. One of Antoninus' most vocal critics was another local landowner, the vir spectabilis Celer. 191 As Leslie Dossey has recently suggested, Celer probably objected to Antoninus' rapacious qualities not simply because it was unbecoming a bishop, but because it interfered with his own estate's primacy in the region.19 2 As Antoninus's case is testament, rural bishops might prove useful managers: they might serve as ad hoc judges for
"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
estate-based infractions, they had important connections to the larger cities and most importantly, they unified the disparate holdings of far-flung estates both physically during Sunday services, and administratively through the power of their episcopal office. Antoninus even purchased additional land in his own name, thus de facto adding to his diocese. 193 In Celer's case, NOT having an estate bishop, or having one as greedy as the local Antoninus, may have meant the erosion of Celer's own power base in favor of that of the nearby eastellum Fussala. 194 Indeed, rural bishops are known to have engaged in proselytizing outside their own diocese, expanding the power of their home estate while possibly threatening that of their neighbors'. 195 In the end, it was precisely a consortium of eight small farmers (plehes) who eventually agreed to take Antoninus as their bishop.196 The disadvantages of a bishop who stole people's roof tiles and beat their workers was, for the relatively powerless small farmers, clearly outweighed by the potential gains: a rural bishopric would provide these small estate owners a central place around which to organize, a supervisory figure to maintain order, and a connection to more powerful voices in nearby Hippo. Urban bishops for their part relied upon domini to police coloni's religious lives and thus tolerated, if not encouraged, estate-building activities. Again in Augustine's letters we find the bishop prodding estate owners in the Hippo hinterland and beyond to take active roles in the Christian life of their estates: he castigated a Donatist landowner, himself a bishop, for paying and intimidating his eoloni to convert to Donatism; he praised Pammachius (the same acquaintance of Jerome) for taking anti-Donatist steps on his North Mrican properties; and some years before the Antoninus' debacle, he urged the abovementioned Celer to close the Donatist churches on his own estates, churches which Celer had seemingly inherited and tolerated. 197 Landlords and their bailiffs were likewise charged with implementing the anti-Donatist findings of the council of 411.19 8 When the above-mentioned Hesperius desired to build his own estate church, neither Augustine nor the neighborhood bishop of the eastellum Siniti offered any objections. The patron of the possible estate church at Rouis even seems to have persuaded the nearby bishop of Theveste to consecrate the project and naming him in the dedication inscription. 199 While urban bishops may have found much to gain in an estate-episcopal entente, it also gave them some cause for worry. When in 345-8 a council in Carthage prohibited those serving as proeuratores, eonduetores, or aetores from entering the clergy, the concern may not have simply been worldliness. Specifically singled out were those persons responsible for estate management, and it may have been the particular worldliness of the rural estate, where spiritual and economic responsibility might clash, which gave the bishops pause. 200 Estate clergy, it is clear, did not spend all their time in church, but were fully vested members of their local estate communities. We find them engaged in
168
BISHOPS AND RURAL ELITES: ESTATE CHRISTIANITY IN LOCAL CONTEXT
real-estate transactions, and on market days, buying and selling, perhaps even supervising, estate markets. 201 Urban bishops might be justly concerned that their rural estate brethren harkened not only to episcopal masters, but also to their domini and to their own pockets. It is notable in this regard that nowhere in Augustine's vast correspondence or in his many sermons did he actively encourage elites to build estate churches. His only sustained discussion of them appears in a passage in the City if God dedicated to modern-day miracles. 202 It is here in which he describes the building of Hesperius' church, miracles at villa martyr shrines to Stephen and Gervasius and Protasius, and other miracles that took place in bedrooms, sickrooms, and areas outside the communal church. His narrative:however, is no panegyric on private piety; it is an extended grumble about sub-groups within the broader Christian community. He complains that whereas in the apostolic age Christian miracles were widely trumpeted to the good of the faith, in his own time, " ... miracles are known only where they are performed and there scarcely by all the people of the city or other local group. "203 Estate churches are thus presented as a double-edged sword: they brought Christ's word and divine power to the country folk, and could prove a loyal solider in the fight against Donatism. But as the fulcrum around which a small sub-group turned, pulling Christians ever tighter into a knot of local concerns, the estate church pulled at the seams of the civitas Dei, threatening, in its small way, to unravel the fabric of universal Christian community in favor of smaller groups built around institutions of the secular world - the family, the estate, the village. Both Augustine and Celer would have grudgingly regarded estate churches as a qualified good, and North African bishops and landowners seem to have worked together in their construction and administration. However, in listing both their advantages and drawbacks, prelate and aristocrat would probably have viewed them in precisely opposite terms. For bishops, estate churches represented a means of bringing Christianity to a populous, potentially pious countryside and an important battleground in the fight against Donatism. Yet these churches might be sucked into the competing web oflocal power politics, their bishops or presbyters falling under the sway oflocal elites or becoming, like Antoninus, rapacious domini themselves. For elites, it was precisely these localizing tendencies that made estate churches attractive additions to their hard-to-manage estates, and made estate bishops a potentially powerful means of controlling local tenants and extending the estate's influence through the vast stretches of rural space. Yet what worried landowners like Celer was precisely what excited urban bishops like Augustine: estate churches and their bishops might eventually transgress the boundaries of the estate, the ties of shared faith, saints' miracles and baptism spilling out of property boundaries and pulling one's workers farther from their proper ken.
"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
What Bishop? Northern Ital]" Britain, and the Absence of the Church Hierarchies Northern Italy 20 4 (Fig. 51) A world away from the dense, hectic countryside of North Africa, the rural estates of northern Italy and eastern central Gaul witnessed the measured lives of a modest rural gentry. The Diocletianic reforms and the creation of the new province of Italia Annonaria brought a certain amount of life back to the rural settlements that dotted the Alpine foothills and river flood plains. Modest villas designed principally for production but graced occasionally with a small bath or an apsed dining room dotted the Pianura Padana, the Ligurian uplands and the hills behind the great lakes. 205 In the areas near Milan, Bergamo, and Brescia and along the lakeshores, occasional larger villas with grand reception spaces, mosaic floors, expansive bath complexes, and sizable production quarters served as both elite homes and as production and exchange centers, hooked into trade routes running down to the Adriatic or over the Alps to the frontier. 206 Between the large and small country houses lay agglomerated settlements (vici and pagi) of the roadways and mountain valleys, many of which were active through the fourth century. Some of these, like the vicus Ariciagi (known only from epigraphic evidence), were doubtless also beholden to private estates. 207 Whether large or small, these were estates where elites lived and as such, were not simply machines for wealth production but vehicles through which status, no matter how modest, might be managed and enhanced. The force driving this rural economy and its modest prestige machine was the appetite of three insatiable mouths: the city of Rome, which the area was periodically called upon to feed, and perhaps even more insistently, the military and the court now centered in Milan. 208 Elevated to sometimes-imperial capital begining in the late third century, Milan began to attract the court's bureaucratic and military apparatus. While epigraphic evidence is somewhat thin, many of the larger estates in the hinterlands of Milan and nearby cities were no doubt owned by imperial bureaucrats. The thousands of more humble villas in the uplands were more detached from the imperialloadstone, but may have fed off it indirectly by producing for local markets as well as export to the capital and beyond. Those located on the increasingly important east-west roads running from the Adriatic coast towards Gaul were particularly well-placed to hitch onto the civic and military economic wagon, as were the thriving vici and pagus centers and mansiones that served as important sites of rural exchange. Whether at first- or second-hand, the presence of Milan and the great route-ways that led through it toward the frontier and coasts energized local economies and, to a greater or lesser extent, the jostling for status that accompanied it. The area's Christian history was similarly impacted by the presence of Milan, although for different reasons. The appointment of the energetic, aristocratic Ambrose in 374 not only transformed that city's Christian topography, but
BISHOPS AND RURAL ELITES: ESTATE CHRISTIANITY IN LOCAL CONTEXT
• 7
• 2
• Vercelli
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Bishoprics Villa Churches 1 Palazzo Pignano 2 Sizzano 3 Desana 4 Villaro di Ticineto 5 Centallo 6 Vandoeuvres 7 St.-Julien-enGenevois
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------- 3 Turin
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Milan
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1
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• 5
influenced that of the surrounding region as well. Ambrose reached out to the younger, smaller episcopates around him, aiding in their episcopal elections, treating their bishops as Christian aristocratic amici, and galvanizing them to do more than simply manage their small flocks. 20 9 It was in part due to Ambrose' influence that at the end of the fourth and early decades of the fifth centuries, a cadre of writer-bishops appeared in towns such as Turin, Brescia, Trent, and Verona, who used their pens and at times their minor aristocratic status to engage in the doctrinal and disciplinary debates of their day, promulgating the cult of relics and particularly, arguing against rural paganism. 210 Bishops like Gaudentius ofBrescia (C.387-4IO) and Maximus of Turin (d. C.423) lambasted their elite parishioners for allowing their estate peasantry to languish in idolatry and poverty.211 In a series offour interlocked sermons dedicated to the subject, Maximus laid the sins of the pagan colonate at the doorstep of their masters: "No one can be pardoned by saying: 'It wasn't I who gave the order to do it [idolatry], it wasn't I who set the task.' In fact, any person who knows that sacrilege occurs on his property and doesn't prevent it, in a certain sense orders it. Thus you, brother, when your peasant sacrifices and you don't prevent him from immolating the victim, it is you who sin ... "212 Indeed, the injunctions of these bishops seem to echo Augustine's missives to his
51. Map, Northern Italian sites discussed in the text .
"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
seigniorial correspondents, and give the impression of an energetic episcopate actively working with landowners to convert the peasantry. And yet, these impassioned sermons were being preached in only a handful of urban churches, for the great majority of northern Italian bishops were far quieter creatures. 213 Very few of them stirred beyond their city walls to take up doctrinal cudgels, and even fewer engaged themselves with rural proselytization, even of the pen-and-ink kind. These were communities of modest size and means, and even in wealthier Aquileia, a surge of Constantinian-age converts quickly withered away in the face of a more run-of-the-mill, "timid" Christianity. 21 4 In general, the bishops of Northern Italian towns had their hands full marshalling their limited resources for urban charitable projects and church building, leaving little energy for the countryside. Furthermore, neither these run-of-the-mill prelates nor their more vocal counterparts seem to have actually engaged in widespread rural conversion efforts. 2I 5 The most publicized attempt on the part of a bishop to build a rural church ended in disaster: Vigilius of Trent (C.38o-405) attempted to convert an important rural pagus by dispatching Cappadocian missionaries to construct a church in the village of Anaunia. 216 The locals found the intrusion so egregious that they burned the missionaries on stakes made from the church's beams. Other bishops may have been slightly more successful: later tradition ascribes the church of Saint Eufemia at Isola Comacina to Abbondius, a mid-fifth century bishop of Como, while Vigilius of Brescia is said to have built the church of Saint Andrew at Iseo. 217 Archaeology has uncovered some further traces of what may be very early parish-type projects, such as San Giulio on the Lago d'Orta, which may have originated in the late fourth to early fifth century.218 However, the vast majority of rural churches, tentatively identified as parish projects through their larger baptismal complexes, are typically dated to the later fifth through sixth centuries. 219 The many small reliquary boxes unearthed in rural contexts are similarly dated and find the cult of saints spreading, perhaps through parish mechanisms, at about the same later date. 22o Finally, textual evidence for parish organization only appears with any consistency in the sixth century or later and it is then, too, when the material remains of rural churches really begin to multiply.221 Systematic efforts to bring Christianity to the countryside and to organize it under an episcopal umbrella thus probably did not begin until fully a century after Gaudentius and his colleagues made their impassioned pleas. 222 In the interim, it may have been rural estates and the landowning elites who built the first churches and organized the first small estate communities. Estate churches or commemorative buildings like Palazzo Pignano, Sizzano, and just outside the area, Vandoeuvres, are fairly well-dated to the early to the mid fifth century, while more tenuous examples, such as those at Desana, Centallo, Villaro di Ticineto, and the more distant Saint-Julian-en-Genevois are similarly dated. 223 More precise dating of these projects and the many
BISHOPS AND RURAL ELITES: ESTATE CHRISTIANITY IN LOCAL CONTEXT
possible parish churches are required to make any real sense of the data, but the current communis opinio suggests that these private projects preceded the first real phase of parishes by some half-century or more. 224 Thus, at least in Piedmont, parts of Lombardy and perhaps around Geneva, estate churches and mausolea were some of the earliest rural Christian buildings in the area. And yet, most of these projects were rather small affairs: the tiny funerary chapel at Vandoeuvres (7.6 x 4.8m) (see Fig. 40), or the intra-villa church at Desana (6.6 x 6.Im) were small funerary structures designed for only a handful of people, while the church and baptistery at Centallo (22.3 x I9.5) and the smaller structure at Sizzano (I5.4 x IIm) (see Figs. 48 and 34, respectively) were somewhat larger but by no means grand. 225 In this respect they echoed the generally modest size and rustic quality of their villas. Palazzo Pignano stands out from the group, both in its elaborate, centralized plan and its large size, yet these exact features, particularly the precocious plan, suggest less a building designed to accommodate the rural masses, and more a monument of seigniorial power (see Figs. 44-45).226 Palazzo Pignano and Centallo were also outfitted from the beginning with small baptisteries, perhaps pointing to broader, estate-wide use, although the small size and corner locations of these baptisteries suggest they were not the church's raison d'etre. Likewise, with the possible exception of Desana, communal burial grounds seem to have appeared only later, in the sixth century. Indeed, at Desana and possibly at Sizzano, somewhat later, separate churches with purely funerary functions seem to have grown up at some distance from the villa. At most, then, the small corpus of northern Italian estate churches seems to describe a small-scale proselytic impulse, intended as modest worship spaces for the family and some dependents of these small, working villas. The elites who seemed to have sponsored most of these projects were likewise modest in their own means and outlook. Again with the exception of Palazzo Pignano, whose grand size and materials points to the senatorial elite, most of these small villas were equipped with only basic amenities and their owners tended to content themselves with locally produced food and housewares. 227 Sizzano and Desana both seem to have had a small residential quarter, but significant signs ofluxury, such as mosaic floors, marbles and like, are thus far absent. Thus, both the villas and their sturdy churches bespeak a minor rural gentry, no doubt the simple honestiores who populate the somewhat later epigraphic corpus. 228 Indeed, in these domini's modest origins and above all in the location of their estates might lie the faint traces of episcopal influence. Many of these early estate churches appear in the eastern part of the region, the area that produced those bishops most interested in rural issues - Eusebius of Vercelli (34o-7I), Gaudentius of Brescia, and Maximus of Turin. 229 Furthermore, and rather unusually for Italy, many of these particular bishops were themselves possessed of some modest fortune or classical education: Eusebius and Gaudentius were
I73
"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
said of have come from money, while both they as well as Maximus of Turin seem to have had some basic rhetorical training.23 0 That is, these bishops may not have been genuine aristocrats by senatorial standards, but they knew how to talk and walk like them. Indeed, their rousing sermons to rural anti-pagan action were carefully tailored in language and reference to speak directly to their middling-aristocratic parishioners. 231 Clearly, these bishops hoped their wealthier congregants would carry something of this furor back fi·om the urban cathedral to their rural estates. Incidents like the debacle at Anaunia may have revealed bishops' real impotence outside the city walls, and forced them to turn instead to their rural aristocratic brethren: the fragmentary remains of estate churches might suggest that these domini heeded their calls. 232 These are but guesses, however, for neither in the stones of these estate churches nor in the near desperate pleas of episcopal sermons can one really catch bishops in action on the rural estate. Above all, northern Italian elites emerge as small-scale pioneers, their rural estate churches standing alone in what was still a largely bishop-weak world. Britain (Fig. 52) The empire's northern-most province experienced a rural and a Christian history peculiar to its own peripheral geography. British elites had taken to rural villa building with gusto soon after the Roman conquest, and the southern third of the island was, by the late first century A.D., dotted with solid country homes of Roman-style manufacture. 233 Even more so than in northern Italy, the reorganization of the provinces under Diocletian seems to have ushered in a real rural prosperity. The actual number of rural sites increased in many areas and aristocratic villas were elaborated and enhanced. 234 Many were expanded and/ or received new apsed halls for dining and reception. Mosaic floors became all the rage, and hundreds of landowners commissioned extraordinary geometric and mythological scenes from thriving regional workshops.2 35 Local ceramic kilns churned out imitations of imported wares while an abundance of coin clinked merrily in rural pockets. 236 Rural elites in Britain, perhaps to an even greater degree than their colleagues in northern Italy, were using their rural homes to articulate and enhance their status. 237 The later half of the fourth century brought a halt to many of these projects. 238 Many villas were abandoned or shrank in size, coin circulation slowed and ceramic kilns halted production. The reasons for the slow-down are not readily apparent, although the continued departure of troops and decreasing tax levies were at least partially to blame. The situation in the last decades of the century, however, was not yet dire: a number of villas, particularly in the southeast, continued to thrive, earlier coin issues were reused and mosaic and silver workshops continued to find clients, testament to the persistence of a wealthy, rural aristocracy.2 39 It was only in the first decades of the fifth century that rural Romanitas would become genuinely imperiled.
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BISHOPS AND RURAL ELITES: ESTATE CHRISTIANITY IN LOCAL CONTEXT
• Bishoprics
o Possible Bishoprics
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Villa Churches 1 Lullingstone 2 Bradford-on-Avon Other Sites 3 Wigginton 4 Chedworth
52. Map, British sites discussed in the text.
4
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What was motivating these rural elite projects? This is still far from clear. As with most of the rural west, increasingly efficient taxation undoubtedly forced the countryside to produce.24o Local elites may have been challenged to keep up their countryside appearances in the face of increasing competition for local and particularly military markets.24 ! As local military markets seem to have shrunk, British elites may also have shifted their gaze across the Channel to Gaul, where close monetary and ceramic ties suggest an increasingly intimate relationship. 24 2 Were British elites producing for the Rhineland frontier? This is less clear, despite textual sources that describe grain shipments from Britain to the Rhineland limes. 243 Indirect ties are more likely; British elites may have traded with their Gallic counterparts and by second-hand association, hitched on to the fringes of imperially driven markets. The prosperity and foreign ties ushered in during the fourth century did not extend to the Christian church. Christianity in Britain was and would remain extraordinarily frail. 244 Most British bishops thus remain shadowy creatures, rarely appearing outside their homeland and hard to find even within it. Only three British bishops are historically attested from this period, although
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"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
optimistic estimates reconstruct as many as twenty-five. 245 Thus, at best, the entire province had one bishop for every 5400km2 or if one adheres to strictly historical data, one per 33,750km2 .246 Compared to North Africa or Italy's carpet of episcopal centers (with one bishop per 1200 or 3400km 2, respectively), Britain had a very thin episcopal presence indeed. Furthermore, Sulpicius Severus reported that the British bishops were so impoverished they needed state funding to come to the Council of Ri mini in 359/60. 247 That poverty is evident in the material remains as well. Urban churches, either intra- or extramural, are rare: structures unearthed in St. Albans, Canterbury, Exeter, and Colchester cannot be securely identified as churches and are poorly dated. 248 The best candidates for fourth- or early fifth-century Christian churches are the baptistery at Richborough and the small structures with possible baptisteries at Silchester and Icklingham, the latter being a large virus rather than a city.2 49 Indeed, the only real glimmer of any church wealth comes from the hoard of what appears to be liturgical silver found at Water Newton, near the Roman town ofDurobrivae, a spot with no other known Christian history or remains. 250 While the episcopate and urban Christianity may have been fragile, Christianity's real home in fourth-century Britain was the countryside. The evidence from small finds, portable baptismal fonts, and church architecture is actually as or more plentiful in the country. Specifically, it was the narrow world of elite villas, surrounded by a great sea of thriving paganism, where Christianity seems to have been most firmly anchored. 25I Only two rural churches of late fourth- or early fifth-century date have been unearthed in Britain and both are in active villas. 252 The first and most famous is the little church at Lullingstone (Kent) villa, which remains the only well-dated, clearly identified Christian meeting place in all of Britain. 253 Other sites suggest that rural baptism was also administered on rural estates: a newly discovered villa at Bradford-on-Avon (Wiltshire) has produced what may be a stone baptismal font, constructed atop the mosaic floor of the villa's central apsed reception hall (Fig. 53).254 The structure may have been added sometime during the fifth century when the villa was still occupied, although perhaps not at the same level of wealth. At Chedworth (Gloucester), a small nympheum in one corner of the villa was adorned with chi-rho signs, suggesting that it too may have been converted to baptismal use, although this is far from clear.255 Further baptismal activities are suggested by a medium-sized lead tank (c.60m in diameter) inscribed with a chi-rho, recently unearthed near a villa at Wigginton (Oxfordshire).2 56 Such tanks bearing Christian decoration are peculiar to Britain; dated generally to the fourth century and found almost exclusively in rural contexts, they may have been used for baptism by affusion. 257 Although the precise archeological context of most of these tanks is unknown, the Wigginton tank was found near a partially excavated villa, complete with mosaics and occupied during the fourth century.2 58
BISHOPS AND RURAL ELITES: ESTATE CHRISTIANITY IN LOCAL CONTEXT
o
1
'2
3
"
10M~
Wall: e)(Cavated Mortar floor (wom)
Mosalcftoor Wall: from geophysics
Building 1 Early post Roman
53. Plan and view, Bradford-on-Avon villa and baptismal (?) complex, fourth-fifth centuries A.D. (Photo by Nik Morris. Reproduced courtesy of Mark Corney).
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"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
Although the evidence for baptism at these sites suggests broader rural proselytization, the sites themselves are small, as are the fonts. In the only certain examples at Bradford and Lullingstone, the positioning of the cult site inside the villa suggests family oriented projects, with some tenant participants. 259 Thus, the limited evidence for Christian practice on British villas seems to be intimately tied with the seigniorial family, who were even depicted, hands raised in prayer, on the Lullingstone west church wall. Indeed, Christianity on these estates is frequently displayed as a kind of luxury import, intimately tied to displays of wealth and status. A significant percentage of all small luxury objects bearing Christian insignia - rings, necklaces, seals, and the like - were found in villas. 260 The great hoards of late Roman silver plate, like those found at Hoxne and Water Newton, may have originally graced the dining rooms of the rural elite and bore christograms and Christian good wishes proclaiming the owner's faith. 261 The enigmatic lead tanks with Christian insignia were likewise luxury objects that may have belonged to the rural elite: whether their function was baptismal or more banal, expensive lead was emblazoned with their owners' signs of faith. Finally, the most plentiful corpus of domestic floor mosaics with Christian symbols also originates from British villas. 262 A reception space at Hinton St. Mary villa bore a large image of what seems to be Christ, nimbed with a chi-rho halo and accompanied by an image of Bellerophon. At Frampton another possible depiction of Bellerophon, plus Neptune and erotic scenes are capped by a prominent chi-rho symbol. While both sites have sometimes been identified as Christian meeting halls, they are most likely just dining rooms. 263 Their varied iconography seem intended to puzzle and charm guests, and the strenuous modern scholarly efforts to reveal a complex synchretistic symbolism would surely have delighted the Roman domini. 264 Along with the small-find evidence, however, they describe a British aristocracy insistent in their physical proclamations of faith, declaring their Christianity alongside testaments of classical learning and paideia. Being Christian in Britain seems to have been very much also about being a contemporary Roman, and faith and Romanitas seem to have been announced with the same emphatic claxon. This wealthy rural Christianity seems to have existed largely independent of the humble episcopal communities in towns. 265 There is no evidence for episcopal intervention in Lullingstone or Bradford: the nearest bishops in London and ifhe existed, in Bath, were a day's ride away or more, and there are no indications that British bishops had either the resources or the energy to interfere in the lives of their far more powerful seigniorial flock. The small size of these projects, their intimate connection with their rural elite families, and the precocious individualism displayed in their silver and their floor mosaics find Roman-British elites practicing Christianity as an extension of their rank and wealth. It was thus a narrow, uniquely seigniorial Christianity
BISHOPS AND RURAL ELITES: ESTATE CHRISTIANITY IN LOCAL CONTEXT
••
••
• 1
54. Map, Spanish and southern Gallic sites discussed in the text.
~ 2
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• Merid •
•
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Possible Vil la Churches 1 Marialba 2 Pueblanueva 3 Carranque 4 La Cocosa 5 La Alberca(?) 6 Villa Fortunatus 7 Loupian
that dominated fourth-century Britain, rather than a Christianity of cities and bishops.
Bishops versus Elites: Hispania and Southwestern Caul (Fig. 541 66 The economic and social changes ushered in at the beginning of the fourth century impacted no rural landscape perhaps so much as the provinces on either side of the Pyrenees. Over the next century, elites in the provinces of Hispania, southern Aquitaine, and Novempopulania would build and decorate their rural homes at a scale and density unparalleled in the rural West. Beginning in the early fourth century and in Aquitaine typically somewhat later, landowners began to enlarge and elaborate these homes as well as construct wholly new structures. 267 The features discussed earlier in this chapter - the multiplication of apses, the elaboration of entrance spaces, the expansion of bathing quarters, not to mention the vast expanses of mosaic floors and sculptural decoration were found here in abundance. Even smaller villas partook of these trends, tacking on tiny apses and laying new mosaics. The majority of the so-called "villa-poets" were likewise from this region: the villa-ekphrases of Ausonius,
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"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
Paulinus, Prudentius, and Sidonius Apollinaris were written in the shadow of these great villas, and were part and parcel of their status apparatus. Many of these elites were doubtless members of the senatorial aristocracy: the emperor Theodosius' family owned an estate near Cauca in Gallaecia, praetorian prefect of the East Maternus Cynegius presumably owned property in Hispania, while the Pontii (including Paulinus of N ola) owned estates around Bordeaux. 268 Epigraphic evidence from the estates themselves has revealed dozens of more middling aristocrats, who slip beneath the prosopographic radar but proudly left their names on mosaic floors or gravestones. 269 Whether clarissimi or mere decuriones, these landowners derived their wealth from the dizzying variety of products their villas turned out: grain, wine oil, fish sauce, and even metals were both marketed locally and shipped around the Mediterranean, while ceramics, fresh produce, wool, and wild game circulated more narrowly.2 70 These were doubtless lucrative activities, as was the renting and leasing of land to coloni and other kinds of tenants. Wealth alone, however, cannot explain the sheer numbers of monumentalized villas built in these areas, their often sumptuous decoration or their poetic fetishization, for Hispano-Gallic elites were surely no wealthier than their peers in North Mrica. 271 This particular propensity to bind up status and identity with villas may be related to a postulated annona supply route, established and fortified just after the Diocletianic reorganization of the provinces and running perhaps from Baetica along the Via de la Plata to the Cantabrian coast to Bordeaux. 272 Clusters of monumental villas hang off this postulated route and its subsidiaries like grapes off a vine, particularly in the Duero and Ebro River valleys and south of Bordeaux. The great reception halls, vast expanses of mosaic floors, even the flurry ofletters and poems dispatched over the Pyrenees by landowning poets might thus be signs of a particularly competitive aristocracy, jostling for better positions along an imperial gravy-train. The villa-based Christian projects of these same elites were an extension of this intense seigniorial culture. 273 In their jewel-like chapels, great mausolea, or ascetic retreats, one finds a Christianity grown from the seigniorial estate itself and centered on the devotions and status of the aristocratic familia. The church at Villa Fortunatus in Tarraconensis, for instance, carved out of the villa's dining/reception room and focused around an eccentric pseudo-crypt, seems an intensely personal project (see Figs. 31-33). In its first phase, the church lacked a baptistery and perhaps even an altar, although its builders were careful to preserve the earlier mosaic floors. Like the little mosaic-encrusted exedra off the villa's peristyle, built solely to broadcast the owner's name and his Christian affiliation, Fortunatus or his progeny's church was an inward-looking project, an expression of and space for familial piety. Similarly, mausolea like Pueblanueva (see Figs. 35-36) or La Cocosa (see Figs. 37-38) and the maybeChristian mausoleum complex at Carranque (see Figs. 42-43), all in central
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Hispania, were monuments to the seigniorial family, positioned to emblazon the landscape with the family's memory while accommodating the small-scale rituals of death and commemoration. A possible parallel in Aquitaine may be the later fourth or fifth-century funerary church at Martres-Tolosane, although its chronology and relationship with the various surrounding villas is far less clear. 274 Even Sulpicius Severus' villa-cum-ascetic retreat at Primuliacum in eastern Aquitaine, crowned by its double-church and baptistery complex, is described foremost as a monument - a monument to Martin of Tours, his acolyte Clarus whose body lay in the church, and to Sulpicius' own faith. It is never explicitly described as an estate-wide community center, designed to draw in the local peasantry.275 The centrality of friends and family at Primuliacum, from Paulinus' picture on the baptistery walls to the constant visits by local Christian amici, suggest that even these first ascetic products were wholly intertwined with seigniorial identity. There is some evidence for estate-wide Christian communities in these areas, but it is limited. 276 The only well-dated, unqualified basilica with a real public liturgical apparatus is that at Loupian, located at the very edge, if not actually outside the trans-Pyrenean region in Languedoc (see Figs. 46-47). The possible martyrium at Marialba was certainly meant to attract local attention, but its liturgical apparatus, including its baptistery, was constructed later. 277 While explicitly colani-oriented projects may have been rare, the estate's chapels, mausolea, and ascetic projects were not wholly "private." In their careful construction, precious materials, and general monumentality, these cult spaces were part of the estate's public persona and no less than the great reception rooms or bath complexes, central to its status apparatus. That is, the "public" to which these projects addressed themselves was the public of aristocratic peers. Faith was here packaged along with other markers of status and sent winging across the countryside, carried through letters, poems, and a constant exchange of visitors. The Christian communities crafted by these projects thus looked simultaneously inward and outward. As ritual structures, chapels and commemorative structures gathered immediate family and dependents. As part of the villa's prestige culture, these projects pulled in the virtual community of often-distant aristocratic peers. 278 The marble-encrusted walls of Carranque no less than the villa church ekphrases of Sulpicius Severus were agents of aristocratic community formation, and although they may not have actually brought peers before the altar, they just as insistently molded Christianity's social shape. This wealthy, peer-oriented rural Christianity lay in small pools, individual point-sources into which the vast streams of aristocratic faith and money poured. Outside these pools lay a very different Christian topography, that of the cities and the episcopate. Most of Hispania and Aquitaine, with the exception of Baetica, was relatively thinly urbanized, a fact which contributed to its extremely thin episcopal geography.279 At the end of
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"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
the first half of the fifth century, episcopal density in Hispania was in the order of one bishop for every 15 ,oookm2, perhaps even sparser than Britain, while Aquitaine/Novempopulania/Narbonensis I was better stocked with one bishop for every 8,IOOkm2.280 While occasionally attracting elites to the episcopal throne, such as Delphinius of Bordeaux or Pacianus of Barcelona, most episcopates were held by humbler men. 281 With the exception Ossius of Cordoba, who spent much of his career outside Hispania battling Arianism, the region produced few great writers or doctrinal hammers, no Ambroses or Augustines. 282 The few works of Pacianus instead describe more modest goals - defending bishops' claims against laymen and unsuccessfully censuring a local pagan festivaP 83 These urban churches' material wealth seems to have been similarly modest. Archaeological evidence suggests that most episcopates only received their first basilicas, either intra or extramural, sometime during the first half of the fifth century.2 84 With certain possible exceptions, like the still poorly dated structures at Notre-Dame La Daurade in Toulouse or Saint-Seurin in Bordeaux, most of these churches were fairly basic affairs, even carved out of previous houses, such as the possible cathedral church of Barcelona or the church at Saint-Bertrand-de-Comrninges. 285 Fine mosaic floors, sculpture, and the other signs of church wealth are largely missing or confined to individual funerary monuments. Rural parish projects, as in most other parts of the West, were still only a distant dream and would get underway in significant numbers only in the sixth century.286 The bishops of Hispania and Aquitaine were thus not only few and far between, but also probably limited in their financial resources. The Christian topography of the region was thus somewhat bifurcated: in the vast stretches of countryside, Christian practice was dominated by elites who poured their attention and considerable monies into villa-based projects, while in the scattered cities, the few bishops struggled with slow-growing Christian populations and a deficit of cash. Elites in these regions thus seem to have invested their pious capital in their private rural projects rather than the urban episcopate, a situation that could have only exacerbated the church's struggle to produce a powerful public face. The result of these disparities seems to have been a constant hum of tension between independent-minded elites and anxious urban bishops. The most extreme case involved the ascetic elite-turned bishop, Priscillian, accused of being a magician and disturber of the peace and executed along with his followers in 385.287 This aristocrat from a familia nobilis was almost certainly a local landowner, possibly in Lusitania. 288 Much of his controversial career as confessor, ascetic leader, and preacher was spent in layman's garb, and his sudden and irregular elevation to the episcopate of Avila bore all the hallmarks of political maneuvering and none of episcopal administration or ministry.28 9 Well-educated and persuasive, he counted among his devoted followers two bishops of unknown sees, male and female members of the
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landed elite, as well as common folk. The heterogeneity of his constituency was the heterogeneity of the rural Lusitanian world, a world of wealthy, probably newly converted domini and dominae, and perhaps coloni whose faith was tied to that of their masters. 290 Added to this volatile mixture was the heady power of the new asceticism, which, like that of his contemporaries Paulinus of N ola and Sulpicius Severus, was anchored in a rural world. 291 Priscillian's attraction seems to have been precisely his seigniorially based, rurally tinted piety.29 2 He conducted rural retreats and prayer meetings on rural estates; he seems to have transformed traditional agricultural rituals into Christian processions; and he relied heavily on the powerful female dominae, such as Euchrotia, wife of the rhetor Delphidius of Bordeaux, and Urbica, possible relative of Ausonius, who helped host his villa-based retreats.293 Judging from the accusations of his enemies, principally bishops Hydatius of Merida and Ithacius of Faro, it was this attempt to use the space and social structures of the estate to generate a broader Christian movement that so enraged local bishops. From his retreats and estate-based masses, they alleged fertility rituals and agrarian magic, and from his inclusion of the dominae would emerge allegations of sexual deviancy and abortion. It is perhaps no coincidence that Priscillian's rural world of Lusitania was particularly short on bishops, bishops who, as we have already noted, found great swathes of countryside under their theoretical control, but almost certainly beyond their direct management. Priscillian's see, Avila, sat in an especially deep rural heartland, far from the hostile bishoprics to the south but fronting the villa-rich Duero valley. Thus, Priscillian's movement embraced a countryside largely untouched by episcopal presence, making his message all the more authoritative and thus all the more threatening to a thinly spread episcopal system. 294 It is also important to remember that the majority of the Priscillianist battles were waged not in church councils but in the secular courtroom. 295 The controversy, whatever its allegations of magic and doctrinal irregularities, was thus also a contest of local power and status in which the shape of this bifurcated urban-rural system was very much at stake. 296 Priscillian and his followers revealed the extraordinary tensions between rural elites and urban bishops, tensions produced not only by wealth and power disparities, but also by distinct kinds of Christian groups. In affect, although he eventually donned the miter himself, Priscillian stood for a different kind of Christian community, one whose rigorist elitism and rural asceticism stood sharply at odds with the all-embracing, integrated communities bishops strove to construct. Rather than unravel the fabric of the estate and knit it into an urban episcopate, Priscillian seems to have based his communities around the estate itself, embracing seigniorial hierarchies, the rhythms of agrarian life, even the countryside's dispersed, inward-looking geography. Priscillian seems to have met local elites on their own terms and in doing so, fueled the anxiety of already insecure bishops.
"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
Even when local elites joined the church as bishops or presbyters beginning in the early fifth century, their conceptions of Christian hierarchy and community were dominated by friend and patronage networks, just as their estates continued to lure them country-wards. The soap opera related in Consentius' letter to Augustine of 420/421 describes just such a scenario. 297 The drama is billed as another Priscillianist controversy, but by this time the Priscillianist label had attached itself to a whole range of disciplinary and factional disputes, and it seems clear that this Tarraconensis-based conflict had nothing to do with the earlier movement. 298 Nonetheless, the relationships between pious laymen and local bishops preserve much of the earlier controversy's flavor. First, the entire drama was staged through the efforts of Consentius, a layman from the Balearic Islands whose self-confessed idleness did not prevent him from sending his monk-spy, Fronto, to spread discord amongst the Tarraconensian episcopate. Fronto narrates an incredible story, the center of which was one Severus, a powerful and wealthy landowner, as well as a presbyter of Huesca and the head of the alleged "Priscillianists. "299 In a tale more comic than believable, Severus is mugged by barbarian raiders on the road to his Huescan estate and loses his "sacrilegious books." Severus' neighboring bishops, Sagittius of Le rida and Syagrius of Hues ca, the latter of the locally powerful Syagrii, are both in his pocket and both work to help him hide the damning books. The ensuing trial is a farce, Fronto is unmasked as a spy and narrowly escapes mob violence, and Severus and his episcopal friends are all forgiven. While the tale is absurd and many of its details may be fabrication, the social dynamic is probably true to form.3 0o The rural estate is again a center of action, this time as the retreat and spiritual center of the wealthy Severus. Here, the landed elite are already enmeshed in the episcopal system as either bishops or clerics. However, episcopal obligation takes a second seat to ties of aristocratic amicitia and patronage that bind the bishops Sagittius and Syagrius to Severus, particularly in the face of charges by an outsider, Fronto. 30 ! Severus even involves the secular arm, his brother-in-law the comes Hispaniarum, Asterius. In short, the tale finds a powerful rural elite trumping weaker episcopal players through a web of patronage and dependence, and bishop-elites taking their cues from those same ties. It is surely no coincidence that at the same time and general area these events were taking place, the chapel at Villa Fortunatus was being constructed not far from Huesca and at another nearby villa, a presbyter-dominus, probably much like Severus himself, was buried beneath a fine sepulchral mosaic, his choice of a villa graveyard over urban church emblematic of the divisive effects the rural, private holy might have on the growing Church community.3 02 Rural private estates, as both physical loci of elite piety and social structures bound by patronage and friendship, were vying with the urban church as places where Christianity happened. While these controversies found rural elites and bishops shouting at one another across crowded courtrooms, subtler, simmering tensions bubbled
BISHOPS AND RURAL ELITES: ESTATE CHRISTIANITY IN LOCAL CONTEXT
around more mundane encounters, particularly surrounding rural asceticism. The council of Zaragoza c.380 took aim at ascetics who absented themselves from church. It condemned those who during the Lentan season " ... remained in the hiding places of rooms or mountains ... " or gathered in one another's villas. 303 Similar prohibitions were leveled at those who spent the three weeks before Epiphany " ... at home, making for their villa or the mountains ... "304 Many of these canons were probably prompted by Priscillian's practices and may have been aimed specifically at his followers. The anxieties they betray, however, seem to have been general ones. 305 It has long been noted that ascetic practices got off to a rocky start in Gaul and Hispania; typically these ascetic/episcopal conflicts are attributed to the inherent incompatibilities between ascetic and episcopal types of authority. 306 In the case of these villa-based ascetics, the estates themselves were just as much to blame for the discord. Estates already exerted a seductive pull on elites, both as seats of rural wealth and as loci of philosophical otium, and even a moderate Christian like Ausonius loathed to leave his Aquitainian villas for Easter services in town. 307 For those of ascetic leanings, however, the successus in villam was not simply a literary trope or personal desire but a moral imperative, the equivalent to a retreat from the world itself.3 08 Yet removing oneself from the world might also mean removing oneself from the orbit of one's local church and its bishop, a rebuff felt keenly in the Zaragozan canons. These young, impoverished churches desperately needed the approbatory presence of well-heeled, elite opinion-makers during their biggest festivals. They also desperately needed elite donations, yet inward-looking ascetics often passed over the local holy in favor of more personal pet projects. Lampius, bishop of Barcelona, watched as Paulinus rejected the offer of a place in his church and, following the siren song of an ascetic life and a foreign martyr, set sail with his wife and their fortune to Nola. 309 In Baetica, the couple Lucinius and Theodora was kinder to their local church, but still shipped off much of their fortune to the churches ofJerusalem and Alexandra. 3Io Jerome may have praised them, but their local bishop could hardly have been entirely satisfied. In Aquitaine, Sulpicius Severus had a similarly difficult time with his local bishops. At a reception for a visiting eastern ascetic, he complained that local bishops had fomented against his ascetic projects: "Here in these parts, surely, given what we have to live through we find life itself distasteful. So we should be very glad to have you tell us whether in the desert at least one can live as a Christian."3 II Much of the antagonism must have been prompted by Sulpicius' ascetic project at his villa, Primuliacum. His finely decorated churches and baptistery, intentionally or not, formed an independent beacon of Christian presence removed from episcopal reach. Even worse, in creating Primuliacum, Sulpicius had removed himself, a powerful voice for the faith, from public circulation. Vigilantius, a presbyter of nearby Saint-Bertrand-de-Comrninges and one-time friend and messenger of Sulpicius, circulated an angry missive
18 5
"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
decrying those who worshiped saints' bodies, gave to foreign churches, and engaged in ascetic retreat. 3I2 The diatribe was very possibly aimed at Sulpicius and his villa-cum-monastery-cum-martyr shrine, and makes plain the danger such projects presented: "If all men were to seclude themselves and live in solitude, who would frequent the churches? Who would remain to win those engaged in secular pursuits?"3 I3 His rant echoed the concerns of an earlier church council held in Valence in 374, in which ascetics were ducking ordination, falsely claiming they had committed grave sins: for the seigniorial ascetic, clerical duties were distasteful drudgery that reeked of the saeculum. 314 Thus, in the eyes of many bishops and their representatives, private ascetic projects like Sulpicius' siphoned off not only potential monetary resources, but an elite presence that lent the church legitimacy and earned it new converts. Even in the friendly letters exchanged between two anonymous, ascetically minded elite women, the specter of episcopal censure lurks in the backgroundYs The authoress, perhaps a resident of Hispania or Aquitaine, encouraged her married friend to remove herself from husband and family in the weeks preceding Epiphany, and to take herself to "the private cell of a monastery" outside the city, almost certainly a rural villa. 316 Here, in solitude, her prayers and fasting would advance her own salvation, and although she was married, her friend assured her that her spiritual labors would echo the groans of the Virgin Mary in childbirth. The authoress anticipates that such practices might well be criticized as being against the "ordinances of the elders," but claims that these blandishments are passing, noting ominously that once the Maccabean priest Simeon was killed, "the entire generation of fathers and priests, along with their observances, came to an end."3 17 Of Simeon she darkly observes, " ... the impulse to wander through the cities caused his death - he who would have not been vulnerable at all to the plots of his enemies if in this month he had kept to the solitude of his own property [possessionis suae]."3 I8 For this independent-minded ascetic, priestly authority could but little sway the dictates of a personal, inward-looking faith whose fullest realization lay in rural solitude. Hispania and Gaul, then, witnessed particularly strained relationships between episcopal communities and private estate Christianity. The reasons for this tension lay in the same factors that everywhere divided bishops and elites: weak episcopates and powerful, independently minded elites. Here, however, the division was particularly deep: bishops were thin on the ground, wholly urban-oriented, and generally poor. Rural elites trumped them in power and influence, and their Christian faith, both in practice and mentalite, was strongly bound to their rural estates. Their small chapels, mausolea, and ascetic retreats were umbilically tied to their seigniorial identity and their conception of Christian community was most strongly shaped by the ties of family, friends, and patrons. It was a way of being Christian that left bishops and local churches largely in the lurch, both as places of authority and objects of elite euergetism.
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CONCLUSIONS
These local churches had not the advantage of their North African brethren longer histories and an established rural presence - and the indifference and independence of their most powerful parishioners was keenly felt and sharply contested.
CONCLUSIONS
Although one would hardly guess it from Ausonius' mild language, he and his fellow rural elites were, in a sense, Christian pioneers. Their estate churches, mausolea, and ascetic communities housed some of the first Christian cult and constituted the first Christian monumental presence in many areas of the western countryside. In many regions, their projects preceded those of the institutional church by as much as a century; in these places, rural Christianity was estate Christianity. But estate Christianity was no simple stand-in for an embryonic parish system. Whether their churches were built to serve the whole of an estate's worker population or simply the dominus' family, villa-based Christian communities were fundamentally shaped by the complex of social relationships that governed the estate itself. These relationships were as varied as the many different forms ofland tenureship and seigniorial power: estate churches in North Mrica seem to have served as powerful tools of human management, unifying dispersed populations through weekly liturgy and the cult of the saints; elsewhere chapels and mausolea were integrated into their villas' prestige apparatus, and were designed to project seigniorial identity to a competitive aristocratic peerage. In both cases, dependency, patronage and friendship ties were the molds into which Christian ritual and mentalite were poured; the resulting communities, be they just the seigniorial family or the whole estate, bore the unmistakable shape of the estate itself. In this respect, Ausonius' abiding sense of religious traditionalism appears to have been very real. While the faith of these landowners and their dependents may have changed, the social mode in which that faith was practiced continued the habits and expectations of centuries. In vain did bishops attempt to instill in their elite parishioners their own proselytic impulses, for conversion lay largely outside seigniorial socio-economic logic. Like the villa temples, estate markets, and other euergetistic projects of old, this first generation of estate Christian buildings were prompted by far more ancient, seigniorial concerns: the efficient management of human capital and the articulation of status. As products of elite preoccupations, most estate churches and Christian communities were founded by elite impresarios, independent of episcopal intervention and affective supervision. Bishops were still largely creatures of the city, and had their hands full developing still-nascent Christian communities, consolidating their own fragile authority and marshalling their financial
"CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT
resources. The countryside simply did not appear on their limited radar. The exception is North Mrica and perhaps areas of northern Italy, where bishops and elite church builders seem to have enjoyed a certain symbiosis. Even here, however, seigniorial, not episcopal word was law and elites seem to have nominated their own clergy and retained the right to veto estate-based bishops, unhindered by urban episcopates. Given how different were their respective Christian communities, it is hardly surprising that elite church builders and bishops frequently found themselves at loggerheads. From Augustine's lukewarm approval of Hesperius' church to Hydatius of Merida's accusations of heresy, urban bishops were frequently at odds with estate-based Christian communities. The tension cannot be blamed on rural communities' "natural" tendencies towards heterodoxy, or on the specific growing pains experienced by early asceticismY9 Estate-based communities were simply different from those envisioned by the episcopate, and their hierarchy and very raison d' etre were seigniorial, not episcopal. The interstices between these two different types of communities were spaces where tension accumulated: inward-looking estates versus distant episcopal cities, genuine local power versus theoretical diocesan authority, wealthy rural elites versus impoverished urban bishops. Herein lay the real apples of discord that would further exacerbate the anxiety caused by doctrinal dispute and asceticism. It may be that the seigniorial elite initiated the "Christianization" of the countryside, but it was a "Christianization" which happened most often without bishops, or in opposition to them.
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CHAPTER
4
Ideologies of the Private: Private Cult and the Construction of Heresy and Sanctity
er
he council of bishops that met in Zaragoza around 380 was faced with a daunting roster of issues. I The most urgent problem was the aristocrat-turned-bishop Priscillian, whose villa-based meetings and rural ascetic retreats competed with their urban sees. But the problems ran deeper than one man or his followers.2 The bishops' claims to govern the ritual of their communities were everywhere challenged by private initiative. Women were running their own bible study groups and preaching; the faithful, particularly the rich, were skipping the great festal masses; fasting was taking place according to personal dictates, not ecclesiastical tradition. 3 So shaken were these prelates that even ancient pious traditions seemed threatening: the council's third canon prohibited the age-old habit of reserving the eucharistic bread and consuming it outside the church. Transgressors were not simply to be chastised, but excommunicated. 4 Other bishops saw these same practices quite differently. At Iconium, a small city in Asia Minor, bishop Gregory Nazianzen delivered a stirring commemorative oration in honor of his sister, Gorgonia. 5 Gregory praised her as the ideal Christian wife, mother, and humble servant of God. Plainly dressed and quietly devout, Gorgonia kept her piety as carefully veiled as she did her body, "but," insisted Gregory, drawing on Matthew 6, "in secret she cultivated piety before Him who sees secret things.,,6 One of these "secret things" was a miracle that had taken place years before. Gorgonia had been taken with a terrible fever for which the doctors could find no cure. So, late at night, she had crept from her bed and "betaking herself to the physician of all," she knelt before a private altar, seemingly in a chapel near her sickroom. 7 There, weeping and praying, she brought out a piece of the reserved eucharistic bread and, in an extraordinary act, soaked it in wine and her own tears and rubbed
IDEOLOGIES OF THE PRIVATE
it over her entire body. 8 Her cure, Gregory proudly declared to his audience, was immediate, a clear sign of God's favor. The previous chapters have attempted to describe the shape and prominence of private worship in the fourth and fifth centuries. This section considers what private w<:>rShip meant, particularly from bishops' perspectives. The radical disparity between the roughly contemporary encomium of Gregory and the proceedings of the Zaragoza council betray the heavy and divisive ideological baggage attached to private worship. As discussed in Chapter I, already in the third century Christian worship outside the collective had the potential to carry either negative or positive meaning. With the creation of a public institutional church at the Council of Nicea and the parallel explosion of private worship, the issue quickly came to a boil. Private cultic acts frequently elicited accusations of heresy and claims of sanctity. To worship in one's home or estate was not simply to engage in a ritual act, but a moral one, labeled either as exemplary or execrable depending on one's point ofview. 9 This chapter considers the conflicting ideologies of private worship, and by extension, of the private itself, by focusing two distinct ideological contexts - law and women's piety. The former category addresses the edicts of the Theodosian Code and church council canons that banned private worship as part of heretical practice, while the latter looks at the hagiographic literature and ascetic treatises that praised the domestic worship practices of ascetic women. The legal and conciliar evidence finds both bishops and the imperial chancellery associating private, particularly domestic worship with heresy. In part, this assumption was based on real experience: minority or separatist groups seem to have used houses as alternative worship spaces. At the same time, imperial edicts particularly drew upon earlier legal traditions, in which cults outlawed by the state were prohibited from worshipping in the private sphere. Christian lawyers transformed these laws and with them, the ideological value of the home and the private. Private worship was no longer simply a side effect of religious transgression, but one of its identifying markers, an integral part of heresy itself. Worship within the home had become a heresiological trope. Opposed to the angry shouts issuing from the imperial chancellery and church councils were the exuberant cries of ascetics. Advocates for female asceticism in particular penned some of the most positive accounts of private worship, and laudatory descriptions of domestic rituals appeared in early hagiographic literature. Here the seclusion offered by the home was both said to guarantee the protagonist's virtue and to lend her rituals a miraculous quality. It was the very privacy of these ritual acts, so its polemicists argued, that rendered both participant and ritual especially holy. In sharp contrast to the edicts and church councils, these accounts regarded the public basilicas with some suspicion and even described public church liturgies as a threat to the
CONTESTING PRIVATE WORSHIP: HERESY AND THE HOME
truly virtuous. The male proponents of these private practices, like their counterparts in the imperial chancelleries, drew on earlier Roman ideologies to make their case - the home as an inherently female space and domestic seclusion as a sign of female virtue - and used these ancient topoi to bolster their own public status. However, in emphasizing the holiness inherent in domestic rituals, these writers assigned to the domestic private an unprecedented power. These two conflicting ideologies of private cult reveal an increasingly urgent debate about the relationship between individuals and the public religious collective. At stake in both positions was the social shape of Christianity: What was the place of the household, the family, and the individual in church institutions? Which form of the familia - blood kin or the more expansive melange of dependency and friendship networks, in other words the domus would mesh best with episcopal authority? How did the rituals and ritual spaces of all familial groups relate to collective ones? What, in short, was the value of the private vis-a-vis a new and evolving public? The increasingly fierce public/private dialectic was one of the means by which these questions were deliberated.
CONTESTING PRIVATE WORSHIP: HERESY AND THE HOME
Some of the earliest, and by far the most abundant textual evidence for private cult takes the form of negative proscriptions. Dozens of imperial edicts and church canons prohibited private worship outright or more frequently, banned it in specific association with heretical practice. The two types of edicts were naturally distinct in their origins and intent: imperial edicts were drafted by imperial quaestors and promulgated, if not enforced, over entire prefectures in one or both halves of the empire. Church councils, even those which have subsequently been labeled "ecumenical" were produced and aimed at narrower groups, represented by the bishops and secular authorities who attended the council, and were hashed out, at least in theory, through the consensus of those communal representatives. Despite their differing aims and field of application, edicts and conciliar canons shared certain features, the principal of which was the identity of their principal impresarios - bishops. The pronouncements of church councils were largely the creation of bishops, although laymen sometimes sat in on these meetings and some issues were no doubt raised in response to lay, particularly aristocratic and imperial, concerns. Although less readily apparent, bishops' influence can also be detected in many of the imperial edicts. Many new laws originated from petitions made to the emperor or his praetorian prefects by those charged with applying existing laws. In the case of Christian matters, it was local bishops who grappled with law's everyday implications and it was they who would have been best positioned
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to propose novelties and changes, including the anti-heresy pronouncements that impugned private cult. In the case of homes and heresy, the tone and content of both imperial edicts and conciliar canons was the same: homes, it was claimed, were being used as spaces of heretical gatherings and domestic worship was in consequence banned or restricted. I I This war was waged on all fronts, in locally aimed pronouncements and more general proscriptions. For instance in Rome, anti-Manichean edicts were aimed at "houses and habitations (domus et habitacula) in which the profane doctrine is taught," and Ampelius, the urban prefect, was directed to confiscate those houses for the fisc. 12 The fight picked up momentum in the late 380s; just after the newly baptized Augustine paused in Rome in the winter of 387 to write two treatises against the Manicheans, two further edicts appeared in 389, banning the Manicheans first from Rome proper and then from the suburbs. I3 By 407, Donatists, Priscillianists, Montanists, and pagans were all lumped under the Manichean umbrella and were specifically banned from meetings in rural villas. 14 Manicheans were not the only ones whose homes were tarred with the brush of heretical accusation. The supporters of Lucifer of Cagliari and Gregory of Elvira, the rigorist clerics who stood against the homoean creed at the Council of Rimini, had a group of supporters in Rome, lead by their own bishop, one Ephesius. I5 As their sympathizers recounted in the drama-filled Libellus Precum, these persons were prohibited from meeting publicly and thus held eucharistic services and vigils in private homes. Many of their members seem also to have practiced a radical asceticism, including one presbyter, Macarius, who was said to eat nothing but olives. Macarius was allegedly dragged from a house vigil by Damasus' henchmen, who beat him so badly that he subsequently died. 16 As discussed in the preceding chapter, the Priscillianist controversy in Hispania seems to have produced a whole host of conciliar canons limiting or outlawing private worship. At Zaragoza in 379/80 and at Toledo in C.400, the consumption of the reserved eucharist, villa-based meetings and masses, and hymn-singing in the home were all banned as practices seemingly associated with Priscillian's alleged heretical tendencies. Imperial edicts soon followed; the 407 edict issued in Rome included Priscillianists among those meeting in villas and was repeated some months later.I7 A recent study has suggested that Priscillian and his followers were also pro-Nicene, Luciferian rigorists. 18 If this were true, the conciliar and legal proscriptions against Priscillianist private worship would echo Damasus' punishments of the same group in Rome. In Milan, similar anti-home, anti-heresy language was in the air. Ambrose repeatedly complained that his enemies were using homes to plot against him, particularly the Arians whose active community dogged his steps and repeatedly requested (and briefly obtained) their own basilica. Ambrose accused the IQ
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Arians of behaving like foxes, skulking around, hiding in houses, and therein holding their secret assemblies. So loathsome were these assemblies that the homes in question could not even be classed as human dwellings, but pits (foveae), fraudulent traps that deceived the righteous. 19 Ambrose even went so far as to complain to the emperors that Ursinus, ousted candidate for the Roman episcopate, had teamed up with the city's Arian community, and was holding" ... secret meetings (occulta consilia) , sometimes before the doors of the synagogue, sometimes in the homes of Arians ... "20 Ursinus makes an improbable Arian: the Roman presbyter was a famed pro-Nicene hammer and his candidacy for the Roman episcopal throne was probably supported by Luciferian rigorists. 21 Ambrose's charge is thus most likely a smear-campaign, but a telling one: not only does it echo Damasus' attacks against home-based Luciferians, but it likewise assumes that extra-church meetings constituted a threat to episcopal rule. Occulta consilia in domibus, Ambrose suggested, were in themselves acts of separatist heresy and his narration to the emperors rings with the confidence that they, too, shared his assumptions. In Constantinople, it was again Trinitarian dissidents who were the brunt of similar legislation. In 381, the followers of Eunomius and Aetius, as well as other adherents to Arian's doctrines, were prohibited from building churches. 22 Interestingly and perhaps unsurprisingly, given the popularity of private churches in that city, the law simply assumes that these churches would be built in " ... fundus etiam vel privata possessio." This law initiated a rash of similar laws issued in the city between 3 8 1 and 3 84 and then again in 3 8 8, all to the praetorian prefect of the East, which although they may not have been specifically directed at Constantinopolitan homes, would certainly have been felt there. 23 In 396 the imperial chancellery issued blanket legislation against all heretical meeting places in the city, " ... whether they are called deaconries or even deaneries, or whether they appear to furnish an opportunity for such meetings in private homes or any other places ... "24 The next year it was the followers of Apollinaris of Laodicea who were specifically targeted, their meeting places again assumed to be occulti coetus located in loca vel domus, while after John Chrysostom's exile in 404, the ex-bishop's supporters were likewise banned from gathering in private homes. 25 Throughout Asia, a very early series of similar proscriptions were issued through church councils. The council of Laodice a was convened sometime in the mid fourth century to address problems caused by local heretics and asceticism, and perhaps to combat the popular groups of mixed pagan, monotheistic, Jewish, and Christian persuasion who called themselves theosebes, or Godfearers. 26 In addition to banning the unauthorized proselytization of nonChristians in private houses, the council also banned anyone, even bishops and presbyters, from offering mass in private houses. 27 Not addressed to any specific group, the prohibition reflects an episcopate increasingly sensitive to local doctrinal and ritual diversity. Sometime between 341 and 355, the council of
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Gangra was summoned to address controversies caused by the followers of the ascetic bishop Eustathius of Sebaste. 28 Responding to the Eustathians' elitist ascetic activities, including shunning married persons, encouraging women to cut their hair, and encouraging slaves to flee their masters, the bishops of the council also labeled all household assemblies convened without episcopal permission as schismatic: "If anyone avoiding the churches, holds private meetings and in contempt of the Church performs that which belongs only to her, without the presence of a priest with authority from the bishop, let him be anathema. "29 Interestingly and seemingly contradictorily, the synodical letter of the same council condemned the Eustathians for refusing to attend prayer meetings in the homes of married persons (OlKOl yEyOJ..lTJKOT0.W).3 0 The contradiction seems to betray the difficult position of these early episcopates, surrounded by a still-powerful domestic Christianity yet increasingly confronted with its divisive affects, especially in the hands of ascetics. Just as individual bishops and prefects were promulgating anti-heresy, antihome legislation locally, other edicts seemed to have much broader goals. Almost all the anti-heretical legislation issued by the imperial chancellery from the 330S to the 430S banned private worship as part of heretical behaviorY From Constantine's early seizure of Gnostic house-conventicles, the decrees against "nefanda secreta et scelerosos secessus" of the Manichees, to the great grocery lists of heretical "-isms" prohibited under Theodosius, there is scarcely a heresy that the fourth-century edicts did not damn with allegations of private worship.32 Indeed so constant was the cry that it extended across a handful of regime changes and through dozens of individual quaestorial hands. 33 The tone of these various edicts and cannons can be summarized in one edict issued in Constantinople in 383: All persons whatever whom error has driven into various heresies, namely the Eunomians, the Arians, the Macedonians, the Pneumatomachi, the Manichaeans, the Encratites, the Apotactites, the Saccophori and the Hydroparastatae, shall not show any private walls [parietes privatos] after the likeness of churches, and shall practice nothing publicly or privately [vel publice vel privatim] which may be detrimental to the catholic sanctity. 34 What are we to make of these repeated, increasingly frantic proscriptions and how can they be reconciled with the flourishing of private cult described in the chapters above? Two interpretative strategies suggest themselves which offer distinct, but interlocking solutions. One interpretation is that these laws were genuine responses to actual practice, that is, heretics were actually meeting preferentially in homes and these laws were promulgated to stop them. As enclosed spaces whose access was more-readily limited and whose walls were somewhat more impermeable to prying eyes, homes were natural refuges for the doctrinally marginalized or elitist separatists. Recent work on the social dynamics of doctrinal debate has
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located the epic enter of such controversies in homes. 35 The Origenist controversy, for instance, seems to have played out largely in aristocratic homes, wherein its partisans held their meetings, read aloud letters from in absentia theologians, and harangued potential converts. 36 Accused heretics and separatists might also use homes for eucharistic. masses, thus maintaining a communion separate from that of the mainstream church. Eustathius of Sebaste and his followers, for example, seem to have preferred home-based masses as a means of fostering elitist exclusivity and removing themselves from what they regarded as the polluting presence of married persons. Houses might also be refuges of last resort for the persecuted: in Milan and in Rome, the Arians, and antiDamasan rigorists, respectively, seem to have been forced to worship in homes after being evicted from the public basilicas. Thus, in a certain sense, homes served as spaces of enforced or voluntary dissent. There are dangers, however, in viewing these edicts and conciliar decrees solely as responses to real events and thus in assuming that homes were necessarily heretical refuges. 37 Most obviously, such a reading supposes that the lines between dissidence and status quo were clear. Quite the opposite was probably the case: Montanists visited Marcella in her Roman mansion and presented their case; Pelagianist supporters were entertained by Pammachius; and Eustathian-inspired house monasticism of Constantinople was encouraged by both the Arian Macedonius and the orthodox Gregory Nazianzen alike. 38 That is, homes used for dispute and resistance against the ruling majority were, in the real world, indistinguishable from thousands of other homes that nurtured the many and varied forms of private piety. Furthermore, actual houses were far from being the wholly private, inward-looking spaces such a reading seems to assume. As has become abundantly clear, late antique houses were highly permeable to the extra-domestic "public," and neither their physical or moral topography could be reducible to easy public/private distinctions. 39 In addition to these physical complexities and as the previous two chapters have tried to suggest, homes had their own complex, socio-religious logic that, although it may have fostered and shaped doctrinal debate, could not be easily mapped onto rigid doctrinal positions. As the Origenist controversy is itself testimony, the snarl of human household networks actually entangled doctrinal positions rather than clarified them. Real houses, in short, were far too complex to admit an easy, practical label as heretical spaces. A purely literalist approach to the legal evidence also tends to ignore the weighty polemical baggage that private cult already carried from earlier traditions, and the important shift in this polemic after the Council ofNicea. As has been discussed in Chapter I, a long, if not particularly potent" discourse of ritual censure" already clung to private worship, both polytheist and Christian. 40 Illicit magic, be it love spells or fortune-telling, was associated with the private; Romans derided and eventually persecuted Christians precisely for their occulta sacra, while Christians themselves worried about individuals of their
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IDEOLOGIES OF THE PRIVATE
own number who practiced home-based rituals. As was discussed previously, these seemingly similar Christian and Roman civic ideologies diverged fundamentally in their basic valuation of "the private." Despite their inherent differences, however, both traditions contributed to a witches-brew of negative polemic that bubbled through the late antique world and ugly words like occultus and secretus already stained the religious private. The power of this polemic should not be underestimated, and thus the house-heresy equation may owe just as much to potent ideologies as to real-world experiences with real houses. One place we might glimpse the nebulous world of ideology being projected into actual practice was the law. In particular, the Roman legalistic traditions that informed the anti-heresy imperial edicts may have helped translate ancient negative topoi into actionable laws.
Roman Law and Christian Law: Ideologies
cif Private Cult
Heresy, as a crime of wrong belief, was unknown in the Roman legal tradition. For the Christian jurists faced with the new task of enforcing belief, the legal precedents closest to hand lay in a handful of Roman laws regulating religious behavior, either those that outlawed specific cults or cultic practices, or more general edicts prohibiting superstitio, or sacrilegious actsY These laws, including those which had regulated Bacchic and Isaic cults, the periodic prohibitions of soothsaying and augury, and the persecution of Christians themselves, fell under the ius publicum, or public law, whose purpose was the maintenance of the utilitas publica, the public good. 42 The crimes they addressed were thus defined not as crimes of religion per se, but as crimes against the Roman state. It was upon this body of cases that the jurists of the later fourth-century relied to craft the new legislation against heresy. Thus, many of the early heresy laws tended to define heresy as superstitio or maldicium, treasonable behaviors already punishable under existing laws banning magicians, astrologers, and the like, or simply as crimina publica, public crimes against the common good. 43 To a limited extent, these earlier Roman laws also provided a precedent for associating superstitio and maldicium with the private sphere. 44 The senatus consultum which suppressed Bacchic cult in 186 B.C. included a specific proscription against private ritual: "Let no one be inclined to perform ceremonies in secret, nor let anyone be inclined to perform ceremonies either in public or in private or outside the city unless he goes to the urban praetor and the latter gives permission .... "45 The specification of ceremonies "in poplicod neve in preivatod neve extrad urbem" is strikingly similar in its language to Constantine's early edict against the Gnostics ("ws 1J11 EV T0 CTlIJoO"i<{) IJOVOV, aAAa IJTlce EV OiKi<;x iCIWTIKTl 11 T01TOlS TlO"iv,") and the anti-Manichean edict of 382 ("nemo tales occultos cogat latentesque conventus ... agris vetitum sit, prohibitum moenibus, sede publica privataque damnatum").4 6 Although the
CONTESTING PRIVATE WORSHIP: HERESY AND THE HOME
Bacchic senatus consultum is one of the only surviving legal texts specifically mentioning private- cult, traces of what may have been similar language appear in anecdotal sources, particularly those regulating soothsaying and astrology. Suetonius reports that Tiberius prohibited, "anyone to consult soothsayers secretly and without witnesses," an edict which echoed an earlier law passed by Augustus, in which seers "were forbidden from prophesying to any person alone."47 Constantine's own legislation strikes a similar theme: "We prohibit soothsayers and priests and those persons who are accustomed to minister to such ceremonies to approach a private house or to cross the threshold of another person under the pretext of friendship .... "48 It is not clear if similar language attended the edicts against Christians: Minucius Felix's Caecilius lashes out repeatedly against Christians as being occulti - their "secret signs and symbols (occultae . .. notae et insignia)," and their secret, nocturnal meetings, "naturally attached suspicions" and proved the depravity (pravus) of the cult. 49 Whether or not these prejudices were encoded by law, however, is wholly unclear. Anti-Christian polemic aside, however, a small corpus of earlier legislation specifically mentioned private cult in the context of superstitio and mal4icium, and may have provided the basis for the Christian anti-heresy edicts. And yet, while these earlier laws may have provided a linguistic template for Christian jurists, the ideology of private cult they promulgated was very different. First, seemingly only small scraps of early law mentioned private cult in the context of superstitio and mal4icum. The clearest of these, the Bacchic senatus consultum, was very old and, although mentioned in a variety of anecdotal sources, is preserved as a legal document in only a single inscription. 50 That is, a strong legal language associating private cult with mal4icium is hard to trace, and thus the new laws probably owed much to contemporary Christian thinking. Furthermore and as was suggested in Chapter I, the rituals themselves - Bacchic ceremonies, augury, soothsaying - are not damned outright, and most of the legislation provides loopholes for their continued existence with the appropriate oversightY That is, the rituals themselves were not the real problem - their practice in private was. Nonetheless, private cult generally is never condemned. The private had the ability to render certain rituals illicit and treasonable; secretus and occultus were clues that pointed to mal4icium and magia, yet the acts that took place therein were neither particular to the private nor was the conceptual category of the private ever tainted by association with these acts. Legally then, privacy was thus an easily detachable, spatial-temporal container which had neither any intrinsic value of its own, nor any inherent attachment to the rituals in question. In the Christian laws, by contrast, private cult is listed time and again as being actually intrinsic to the heresy itself. The edicts that mention private worship in the context of heresy do so for two reasons: to eliminate all possible venues for heretical gatherings, including private houses, and to provide a further means
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of identifying heretical behavior.52 That is, heretics do not simply worship in private; rather, private worship is one of the marks of a heretic. The tendency is already evident in the 372 edict against the Manicheans: Whenever an assembly of Manicheans or such a throng is found, their teacher shall be punished with a heavy penalty. Those who assemble shall also be segregated Jrom the company of men as inJamous and ignominious, and the houses and habitations [domus et habitacula] in which the proJane doctrine is taught shall undoubtedly be appropriated to the resources of the fisc. 53 [Emphasis added.] "Houses and habitations" are themselves damned through their presumed association with Manichaeism, just as Manichaeism is identifiable through its domestic conventicles. The trend becomes particularly marked in the Theodosian-period edicts, when the legalistic effort to define heresy reached its fullest flower. 54 The expanded nomenclature used to categorize, and thus identify and prosecute heresy was often paralleled by an expanded listing of the domestic or private spaces with which they were associated: The vicious doctrines hateful to God and man, namely the Eunornian, the Arian, the Macedonian, the Apollinarian, and all other sects which are condemned by the sincere faith of the true religion, shall not arrogate to themselves the right to assemble congregations or to establish churches, either by public or private undertakings in the localities oJ the cities and oJ the fields and oJ the villas [neque publicis neque privatis aditionibus intra urbium adque agrorum ac villarum local ... The ciforesaid houses moreover, whether in the cities or in any places whatsoever . .. shall be made subject to the ownership and rights of our fisc ... "55 [Emphasis added] Here the many groups associated with various kinds of "Arianizing" activities are carefully named, along with the many possible types of private spaces with which they were associated. Heretical "undertakings (aditiones)" are later in the edict assumed to be domestic in nature. That is, along with their names, heretics were to be recognized and thus prosecuted by the many kinds of private places in which they met. 56 Houses themselves even took on basic heretical qualities. The everlengthening lists of heretical names were a product of what the jurists regarded as the heretics' "wicked fraud (malignafraus)," in calling themselves by "deceptive names (sub simulationefallaci . .. nominum)."57 This duplicity and falseness, inherent to the very nature of heresy, came to define the implicated homes as well. Ambrose had already suggested as much when he characterized Arian meeting houses as "fraudulent pits (foveae . .. fraudulentae)," the fraud pertaining both to the heresy and the abodes that "entrapped" the unwary. 58 In the abovecited Constantinopolitan edict of 383 a series of heretical groups, previously accused of hiding their Manichaeism behind a far;:ade of asceticism, are now said to falsely, "show walls of private houses after the likeness of churches ( ... ad
CONTESTING PRIVATE WORSHIP: HERESY AND THE HOME
imaginem ecclesiarum parietes privatos ostendant)." 59 The false mask of the ascetic is echoed by the false guise of the home. Thus, although they were crafted in part from· an earlier legal tradition, the Christian anti-heresy edicts represent a new legal conception of the private. No longer simply an indication of wrong-doing, the private became part of the crime itself. In other words, the moral category of "privatus" or "secretus" was no longer a vague adjective, but a fulsomely constituted legal category; no longer a clue, it was now part and parcel of crimes against the public good. This shift represents more than simply the lessons of tired experience. The dogged sameness of the heresy-home equation, its repetition in almost every heresy law of the period, and most of all, the firmness with which the private sphere was attached to the falseness of belief, all suggest that it was ideology as much as practice that forced this intimate bond. That is, these laws, while they doubtless represent the real experiences of local bishops, just as importantly reflect the development of a fixed heresiological topos. As historians of heresy have long noted, ancient heresiologists relied upon such emblems, using the negative image of the heretical "other" to construct a positive image of the orthodox self. 60 That constructive process required building blocks, relatively simple concepts whose moral implications were readily understood and shared by all. Images of the conniving magician or the lascivious woman were some of the most popular of such tropes, appearing already in the earliest anti-heretical propaganda. In the heresy laws, we seem to witness the domestic private likewise being compressed into an easily digestible, monolithic idea sapped of all its positive connotations, leaving only the negative detritus. 61 Like the crafty and crooked magus or the uppity and dissolute female, the now thoroughly negative private was presented as part of heresy's inherent wrongness. Which of the private's many shapes raised the episcopate's hackles is rarely specified. Was it the familia itself as kinship unit? Or was it the permeability of this unit to other individuals - friends, neighbors, and dependents - in short, the domus, that lay at the base of the heretical trope? The edicts never specifY, for the legal label of heretic carried a concomitant erasure of other kinds of social ties; just as the heretic is repeatedly located "out of the company of mankind," so, too, heretical groups are stripped bare of their formative social tissue and described only by their leaders or by their doctrinal deviancies. 62 Divesting the family from heretical identity was in itself an interesting rhetorical move: while intrinsically associated with their domus-Iairs, heretics are portrayed as non-familial. They are, as the anti-Priscillianist canons proclaimed them, alieni, strangers to the home, and thus are distanced from positive,Jamiliabased ideological categories like patriarchal order or filial and spousal piety, categories that for centuries Christians had used to propound the legitimacy of their groups.6 3 In this way, the heresy-home trope squeezed out the last
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positive vestiges offamilia ideology, leaving only a dark, pejorative shell tacitly formed by the expansive ancient domus. It is important to note that despite the harsh ideologies they promulgated, imperial edicts and conciliar canons were probably only sporadically enforced, and never added up to a coherent policy limiting or monitoring private churches. Their importance lies in the paradigm shift they betray: in equating homes with heresy and in stripping the familia from the heretical domus, the age-old anxieties about household cult had become institutionalized, embraced within the church's growing legal apparatus. The ambiguous relationship between families and bishops, between patronage structures and ecclesiastical hierarchies now took on a specific, unambiguous face: heresy.
Homes on the Difensive The power of this new ideology is perhaps most fully evident in the tactics used to defend against it. Christians at whom these negative tropes were aimed - those accused of heresy, sedition, and sectarianism - did not deny the allegations of private worship. Rather they retrieved positive biblical and New Testament exempla of private worship to wield against the negative images broadcast by their enemies. For instance, when in 380 the Arian bishop Demophilus was called upon to conform to the Nicene creed, he instead preached Matthew IO:23, "When you are persecuted in one place, flee to another," and proceeded to set up meetings outside the Constantinopolitan city walls, probably in houses. 64 The anonymous mid fifth-century Arian author of the Opus impeifectum, responding from afar to accusations of housebased worship in the imperial capital and elsewhere, likewise countered by comparing Arian home-based worship with that of the Apostles. 65 Separation from the church and its ministers was not schism, but, as laid out in Matthew 24, the only right course in unjust, apocalyptic times. 66 Church buildings, he cautions, do not sanctify a man nor do cathedrae make bishops, for these are objects of the physical world: rather it is purity of purpose that render both space and priesthood holy. 67 They were not the first parties in the Arian debate to make these claims: when the pro-Nicea party of Milan found themselves out of power, Hilary of Poitiers praised homes as sites of noble resistance against the rule of the Arian Auxentius. 68 In language strikingly similar to the later edicts condemning Arian's private meetings, he claimed that the Apostles had made use of "vicos et castella" for "secret meetings (coenacula secreta)," and thus in Churchillian fashion, had resisted the heavy hand of imperial law "over land and sea. "69 Arian bishops he compared to Nero and Decius, and likened pro-Nicene private gatherings to a heroic Apostolic underground. Like his later opponents, Hilary sneered at the public basilicas, controlled now by his rivals, warning his
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followers that a grand new building should not be equated with correctness of belief. In their petition to the emperor Theodosius, the rigorist supporters of Lucifer of Cagliari and Gregory of Elvira similarly used both apostolic and biblical precedent to defend their private practices. The so-called Libellus precum bewails the persecution of those who had upheld the Nicene Creed through the vacillating "orthodoxies" of Arianizing emperors. From Rome to Spain to Eleutheropolis in Palestine, groups of these rigorists were gathering in private homes for vigils and eucharistic masses, either to avoid communion with "prevaricating" bishops or because they had been forcibly removed from their local churches. 70 They sneered at the rich trappings of public basilicas, and touted the humble nature of their private meetings: "As for us, the true salt, it is enough piously to worship and adore Christ our God in the meanest and most abject hovels, of a kind where once the same Christ, who was born in the flesh, found it worthy to lie as an infant. "7 1 It hardly seems to matter that only sentences earlier, these rigorists had boasted of an aristocratic house used by their members in Eleutheropolis. 72 In comparing their situation with that of Mary and Joseph at the inn, they conjured up an impoverished Christian past in which the home was literally the birthplace of the faith and, as a space more humble than that of the new basilicas, emblematic of Christianity's most basic tenets - humility, self-effacement, and a disdain for public affectation. Houses in this image were the well-springs of Christianity itself. Similarly potent was their equation of the private sphere with the final refuge of a persecuted minority. They described their persecutor, the bishop Turbo, hounding them even into their homes: " ... he laid traps (insidias) for every individual who was joined with us in the partnership of our sacred communion, as if accusing us of crimes (nifas) under that law of Babylon: for it is inside our homes that we celebrate the divine sacraments, without the stain of heresy and treacherous communion [sine labe haereseos et sine communione peifidiaeJ, according to evangelical and apostolic traditions and as the faithful wish. For it was with a similar madness that formerly in Babylonia, too, they pursued Saint Daniel with hostile hatred, because he, obeying the divine laws, adored God in his house. "73 The reference to Daniel evokes Daniel 6, in which the prophet, faced with a Persian edict to worship only the king, retreated to his room to pray. Discovering his domestic rituals, the Persians threw him in a lion's den from which he was likewise saved by private prayer. The reference not only touts an important precedent for private ritual as particularly pure and virtuous, it also alludes, through the medium of Old Testament Babylon, to the more recent persecutions of Christians by Roman imperial decrees and perhaps even to the recent anti-heresy legislation that was beginning to limit private worship.
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The rigorists again likened themselves to pious pre-Nicene Christians, and cast local bishops as persecuting kings or emperors. The vehicle that produced these analogies and evoked these several mythic pasts is again the home, now an apostolic refuge while it is the bishop's interference that is the fraudulent trap. In each of these instances, those pilloried for their private activities turn precisely to a public/private dichotomy to answer their accusers. Rather than denying the allegations outright, or question the definition of "the private" as Apuleius had done over a century before, their responses simply inverted the values placed upon the private and the public. The domus is likened to that of Daniel or the apostles, and the coenacula secreta they host are the brave deeds of a heroic resistance. In employing the same vocabulary and reversing its ideology, the accused Arians and Luciferians, like their enemies, tacitly agreed that public/private spatial distinctions were inherent to orthodox/heretical identity. Thus, no less than the anti-home, anti-heretical legislation, the prohome ideology of the oppressed bound conceptions of the home and the private to conceptions of orthodoxy. Whether positive or negative, the ideologies of the private that developed after the council of Nicea betray an increasingly shrill debate about how the private was to be valued in the face of a new kind of public. On the one hand, the late fourth century's desperate attempts to renegotiate Christian identity through categories of heresy and orthodoxy placed the home in a precarious position. Defining heresy meant creating powerful tropes that could be used to bring the hazy world of belief into sharper, physical focus. What counted as orthodoxy was defined by and identified with the reigning public; the private, conversely, was increasingly cast as the heretical "other." Minorities who defended themselves from heretical accusation simply inverted the value equation: for them, the home was the space of orthodox virtue, a virtue consistently associated with an apostolic or biblical past, while the public basilicas manifested corruption and decline. The age-old debate over the definition and value of the public versus the private had become part of the debate over correct belief, while the home and the private more generally had become a battleground on which the struggle for Christian orthodoxy was waged.
PROMOTING PRIVATE WORSHIP: CONSTRUCTING IDEALS OF FEMALE SANCTITY
The growth of asceticism in the fourth century, particularly among aristocratic converts, shaped a very different ideology of the public and private ritual. Ascetic rejection of the world carried a concomitant rejection of at least some aspects of public life. The private - be it the space of the home or monastic cell, the constant round of individual prayer or the inward turn
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of spiritual contemplation - was elevated to a positive topos in much ascetic discourse. Indeed, the spiritual elitism of pre-Augustinian ascetic models touted an inherent superiority of private over public; the ascetic individual was a small and private place, created through the physical removal of the body from its accustomed public habits and the spiritual removal of the soul from worldly cares.7 4 It was through the creation of this private that the ascetic was pressed ever closer to God. Praises of the private thus abound in ascetic literature. From the enormously popular Lives cif the Desert Fathers to Paulinus of No la's letters, a moral language developed throughout the fourth and fifth centuries that exalted inwardlooking qualities; the "flight from men," secret (secretus) , soiitude (solitudo) , were the era's buzzwords, while the vocabulary of public life was often heaped with scorn or appropriated to evoke the negotium of vigorous asceticism. 75 Praises of private ritual appear among these more general panegyrics, but do so in interesting patterns. Many texts specifically advocating or eulogizing private ritual are concerned with women's asceticism: from domestic prayer to healing rituals to relic veneration, the rhetoric of female asceticism contains a virtual encyclopedia of private worship practices. Indeed, many of the early male proponents of female asceticism relied heavily on an ideology of "the private" to construct new norms of female virtue. 76 As one way of tracking the positive ideologies of the private, this section will look specifically at these sources, excavating the various kinds of "private" adduced by ascetic commentators and examining how they were used to construct an ideal of female sanctity. As this ideal was constructed almost wholly through the writings of men, this study will also consider how the female saintly private was used to bolster the claims made by the male clerical public.77 A sizeable body offourth-century thought located female virtue specifically in the home. 78 Homes, first and foremost, were guardians of virtue. Ambrose assured his readers that only the closed door of the virgin's bedroom could protect her from, " ... every defilement of the flesh. "79 Jerome, using language from the Song of Songs, makes the home into a military bastion, both protecting the ascetic and marking an easily definable, physical limes between her virtue and the sin of the saeculum. 80 As such, it both defended from attacks without - the prying eyes of the streets and the malicious gossip of peers - and guarded the doors leading out, denying the temptations of theatrical spectacles, parties, and marriage proposals. And yet even the walls of the home might be breached and dinner parties, rich food, or frivolity might enter through lessthan-vigilant parents or servants. 8I For Jerome, even houses were somewhat tainted by the sinful stench of the city itself; mostly efficacious at guarding their wards, they were expeditious spaces rather than inherently honorable ones. Homes might also shape the very form and praxis of female ascetic virtue. 82 A pseudo-Basilian treatise on female asceticism produced in Syria or Asia
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Minor sometime before 32 5, directed fathers to keep their ascetically minded daughters secluded at home. 83 Here the virgin's ascetic regime mimicked the structures of the paternal order: the pateifamilias became "the priest in the high temple," charged with guarding his daughter's chastity and supervising her ritual and charitable activities. 84 The housebound virgin would thus transform her domestic routine into a round of prayer and fasting, while her frlial obedience was now made holy obedience. As will be discussed more fully below, Gregory ofNyssa's famous encomium to his sister Macrina likewise depicted a life made saintly through the very structures of the home; here again the routine of daily life, from care of an aged mother to baking bread, was translated into ascetic, even saintly, virtue. 8s Indeed, the saintliness nurtured by the home might even rebound onto the household itself. Gregory describes Macrina's bedroom as "that holy place."86 Eusebius of Emesa writing in the mid fourth century, went even further, ascribing to the housebound virgin an apotropaic function that permeated the whole household: "It is a safeguard for a house to have a good virgin ... the house possesses in the person of the virgin a temple of God ... If, in fact, a faithful virgin lives in a house, her mother will practice chastity ... her sister will be instructed, the slave will be corrected, her father will become more chaste, her brother will be persuaded to live a life of continence ... the sweet perfume of virginity will penetrate every heart. ,,87 The author of the pseudo-Basilian De virginitate agreed and assured the father of the virgin that as his daughter, " ... progresses with generosity towards the immaculate bridal chamber of Christ, where she will dwell in the company of the wise virgins ... you, who guided her as well will be admitted to the bridal chamber of the heavenly kingdom ... "88 By the time the later fourththrough frfth-century Pseudo-Athanasian Canons was penned, having a virgin in the house had become a requisite part of good housekeeping: "In every house of Christians it is needful that there be a virgin, for the salvation of the whole house is this one virgin. And when wrath comes upon the whole city, it shall not come upon the house wherein a virgin is. "89 Indeed, if no virgin could be found among family members, it was advisable to force a servant to assume the habit, thereby safeguarding the home by proxy.9 0 Homes were also the conceptual locus of women's pious rituals. Arnbrose and Jerome imagined the bedroom of the virgin reverberating with perpetual prayer: "And again in your bed-chamber itself (in ipso cubilt), I would have you join psalms in frequent interchange with the Lord's prayer, either when you wake up, or before sleep bedews your body, so that at the very commencement of rest sleep may frnd you free from the care of worldly matters, meditating upon the things of God."9 1 Prayer and its private setting transformed the ascetic into a type of the Virgin at prayer in her chamber while awaiting Gabriel's annunciation, or ushered in Christ, her bridegroom: "If you shut
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your door ... and if you pray to your Father in secret, he will come and knock and he will say: 'Behold I stand at the door and knock ... ' And you will eagerly reply: 'It is the voice of my beloved that knocks, saying 'Open to me, my sister, my nearest, my dove, my undeftled.' "92 But praise for female rituals was not limited to prayer. The lighting of the evening lamps was in both polytheist and Jewish traditions assigned to women, and it appears in ascetic treatises among those acts undertaken by pious women. 93 Jerome's advice for the child Paula included a round of prayer that ended with the girl lighting the lamps and "offer[ing] the evening sacrifice. "94 Gregory of Nyssa's stirring account of the end of Macrina's life describes the community of female family members and servants singIng during "the eucharist of the lamp (ETTlMXV10S Evxaplo"Tia)," while on her deathbed, the saint struggled to light the evening lamp and recite the thanksgiving. 95 Somewhat more surprising are the various eucharistic-type rituals that these writers describe, and laud, as among their protagonists pious habits. A treatise directed to virgin's living in their parent's homes, possibly of mid fifth-century date, proscribes a mealtime ritual to be performed at the ninth hour.9 6 Plain bread is "blessed" by the virgin, who speaks the following prayer: "We give thanks (Evxaplo"TOVI-lEV) unto Thee, our Father ... And as this bread which is upon this table was scattered and being gathered together even became one; so let thy church be gathered together from the ends of the earth into thy kingdom ... "97 Each virgin is instructed to undertake this ritual on her own, and thus the "blessed" bread is not distributed to her family. Furthermore, the text prohibits the girls from doing the ritual in the presence of catechumens, echoing the public liturgy in which the catechumens were made to leave before the eucharistic prayers. 98 The virgin's household here mimics the hierarchy of the public church, but it is she who sits at its head. Gregory ofNyssa may have also compared the bread that Macrina baked for her mother to the eucharistic bread: " ... she even frequently made bread for her mother with her own hands. Not that this was her principal concern, but when she had anointed her hands with mystical services (eXPTlo"E), thinking that it was in keeping with her way of life, in the remaining time she furnished food for her mother from her own labor ... "99 Whether one interprets these "mystical services" as simply receiving the eucharistic bread from the priest or as baking it herself, Gregory's aim is to liken Macrina's constant care and feeding of her mother to a daily round of sacramental activity. 100 Consumption of the reserved eucharist is also listed among pious women's activities: Gregory Nazianzen's encomium to his sister, cited at the beginning of this chapter, revealed that Gorgonia had cured herself of fever by rubbing the reserved eucharist, soaked in wine, over her body.lol Women were also lauded for their construction of and worship in private churches. Indeed, the majority of sources that mention domestic churches do so in the context of praising a pious woman. In some cases, these women
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are credited with building these chapels: Gregory of Nyssa proudly describes how his mother, Emmelia, founded a chapel on the family estate of Annesi in Pontus, a bit more than a kilo meter from the main villa building and possibly near the estate vicus. In it she deposited the relics of the Forty Martyrs that she had procured for the purpose. 102 Gregory tacitly attributes to his sister, Macrina, another church on the same estate; his Life praises her as the driving force behind the creation of the family estate-monastery and his narrative of her death and funeral seems to describe two chapels, both the aforementioned estate church of the Forty Martyrs, as well as a second chapel, closer to the villa, that may have served the nascent villa-cum-monastery.10 3 Although he never explicitly credits her with building it, the chapel appears as part of the pious apparatus that was Macrina's greatest accomplishment. In other instances, it is in a domestic church where the female protagonist performs miraculous feats. Gerontius locates the turning point of Melania the Younger's life in a private chapel in her Roman mansion; it was here that she prayed to God to aid her ascetic pursuits by ridding her of the child she was carrying in her womb. God answered her prayers: after a night-long vigil in her chapel, she gave birth to a child that soon died. 104 Although it is far from clear, Gregory Nazianzen may have set his sister's bizarre eucharistic spongebath in a chapel or before a home altar. 105 Macrina is likewise said to have miraculously cured her own breast cancer with a mixture of tears and dust from her house chapel's floor. 106 Accompanying these eulogies of domestic prayer and ritual ran a low but persistent note of disdain for public churches and public liturgies. In contrast to the carefully controlled familial-private of the chapel or the bedroom, the city's great basilicas were heaving masses of fleshly humanity in which genders rubbed shoulders and shared glances. 107 Relying on this topos, Jerome used an image of the liturgically absent woman to compose his images of female piety. Marcella is described as praying in the Roman martyr shrines only when she could be assured that the usual pressing crowds would be absent, engaging in private prayer rather than participation in the episcopal mass. 108 To Eustochium he urged, "Walk not often abroad (Rarus sit egressus in publicum), and if you wish the help of the martyrs, seek it in your own chamber,"109 while his advice to Pactula on her little girl took almost exactly the same tone, "She should not appear in public too freely (nec liberius procedat ad publicum) nor always seek a crowded church. Let her find all her pleasure in her own room."110 Interestingly, Plotinus had much the same response when urged to attend public pagan festivals: "They [the gods] ought to come to me, not I to them."III For Plotinus, however, dodging public ceremony displayed one's passivity and openness to the unanticipated, epiphanic coming of the One to the soul; in Jerome's letters the qualitative division between "in publico" and "in cubiculo" has become sharper, the latter not simply a more efficacious path to the holy, but a better, and perhaps the only path. II2
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Nighttime church vigils were particularly scorned by ascetic writers, and warnings against their evils pepper female ascetic manuals. I 13 The long duration of the events, often in the stifling confines of martyr's shrines or out in the city streets, were judged to be particularly unwholesome and threatening to a woman's virtue. 114 Furthermore, vigils' basic ritual framework - the whole of the church community pressed together in faith during the nighttime hours was irreconcilable with an ideal offemale virtue built around nighttime solitary retreat behind the home's walls: in exchanging the security of the private for the public liturgy, the virgin, " ... may lose the lamp of chastity while lighting that of the night vigil."II5 Gerontius thus contrasts Melania the Younger's nighttime vigil in her house chapel with the surging crowds massing at St. Lawrence's shrine, a throng she joined only the next day with her mother in tow. II6 The anonymous author of the pseudo-Athanasian canons reinforced his images of the housebound virgin with cautions against vigils: "On the vigil of every feast shall the whole people stay in the church with chanting and hymns. Whoso hath a virgin daughter, let him not take her with him unto the church with her people."II7 EvenJohn Chrysostom, both in Antioch and later in Constantinople, warned virgins to stay at home, counseling them to leave their homes only a few times per year, and thus presumably forgoing daily and even Sunday services in the public church. II8 His later injunction actually seems to imply that women should take up their vigils in the home, "You all know also how the women, if there is need for us [men] to go ... forth unto a vigil, watch through the whole night."119 Thus, the topos of the housebound pious woman might be buttressed· by a concomitant rejection of all things public, even churchgoing, and "basilica abstinence" might be embraced as part of a broader language of denial. These enthusiastic narratives of women's private rituals seem a world away from the contemporary edicts and canons that labeled such acts as heretical. Indeed, houses, private rituals, and their female impresarios are praised in these sources for precisely those qualities that were damned in the anti-heretical proscriptions. It is the removal from the public sphere that guarantees female virtue, and the home is the principal vehicle for that removal. Women's private rituals are rendered particularly pious through their very impermeability to the public gaze, a gaze that might provoke prideful preening: as Gregory Nazianzen said of his sister, " ... there was in her no unreal profession, but in secret (EV T0 KPVTIT0) she cultivated piety before Him who sees secret things."12o Secretum here is no longer threatening, but the protective shroud of the truly virtuous. While in the imperial edicts the home assumed the suspicious, deceptive character of the heretic, in these sources the home shines with the virtue of its pious female inhabitants. The bedroom of the virgin, the site of her daily devotions and nighttime prayers, becomes a holy shrine. The private, in sum, sanctifies the pious woman and in turn becomes holy through her piety.
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Just as the private was disparaged in anti-heretical sources to create a positive image of public orthodoxy, these sources use the crowded public church as a foil to the secluded housebound female. Although not insistently critical, polemicists of female piety might point to the public liturgy's seamier side the crowds of mingled men and women, the sexual liaisons in the basilica's hidden corners - in order to point up the difference between genuine and apparent piety. The truly virtuous woman "found all her pleasure in cubiculo suo," and even a splendid masquerade of faith could not draw her out. I2I In this image of female piety, it is the public churches that are dark and deceptive, while the home, the private chapel, and the virgin's bedroom shine with a crystalline purity. I22 At the most basic level these sources reveal a potent, positive image of the home and private ritual, opposing the negative topos promulgated by imperial edicts and church councils. And yet, how did this positive image come into being? What work did it do for the churchmen and thinkers who promoted it? And what does it reveal about the shifting ideological role of the conceptual private during the development of Christian ascetic discourse? A more detailed examination of one particularly rich source provides some possible answers. This is the Life of Macrina penned by Macrina's brother, Gregory, bishop of Nyssa.
The Private in the Vita Macrinae Gregory wrote the life of his sister in letter form, ostensibly at the request of a friend, one Olympius. I 2 3 In part, its format was structured around those topoi which would become standard fare in later female hagiography: descriptions of her mother's piety, allusions to her family's wealth and standing, her miraculous birth, biblical education, betrothal and death of her fiance, pious/miraculous acts, and death. But there is much that falls outside these tropes and bespeaks an individual life, one with which Gregory was well-acquainted: Macrina's gradual transformation of the family estate at Annisa into an ascetic project; her relationships with her very different brothers, Basil, Peter, and Gregory himself; the oddly personal, even intimate miracles she enacted; and the long account of her funeral which, like much of her life, took place not in the city, but on the family estate. I24 A previous generation of scholars had read Macrina's Vita as a very early manifesto on communal monasticism, whose ideals had only recently been propounded by Gregory and Macrina's brother, Basil of Caesarea. I25 A flurry of recent scholarship suggests that Gregory's tale is above all a story about family. I26 Macrina's ascetic vocation begins when she steadfastly refuses to leave her mother after the death of her fiance, and hers and her brother Peter's filial devotion is reiterated throughout the Vita. I27 The rest ofMacrina's life is spent in the confines of the home, largely on their rural estate at Annesi. The ascetic
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"community" she forms there is shaped by family. Its spiritual foci, in the form of two churches, were seemingly built by family members: the mother Emmelia built the chapel containing the relics of the Forty Martyrs some distance from the house, while a second chapel in the domestic compound is probably to be associated with Macrina. 128 The community itself is said to originate among the household members - Macrina, her mother, her younger brother Peter, and their servants - who are adopted as equal partners in ascetic pursuits. Gregory carefully traces the flow of these of ascetic impulses, originating from his protagonist and radiating out along the paths of blood and dependency: Macrina weans her mother off luxuries, she pushes her brother Basil away from rhetoric towards renunciation, she transforms their female servants into a "choir of virgins," and as the eldest child, she trains her younger brother in the ascetic arts. 129 Gregory presents his readers not only with a female domestic ascetic, but an asceticism literally born of a household. The miracles that prove Macrina's piety were likewise specifically housebound and house-born. Mter her death, one of Macrina's fellow ascetics revealed to Gregory a miraculous cure visited upon the saint. A cancer of the breast had infected her, but she refused to expose her trouble to the prying eyes of a physician. She turned instead to one of the estate's two chapels, probably that within the domestic compound: " ... one evening, after she had finished her usual tasks connected with her mother, she went inside the sanctuary (novoYlocrTi)plOV) and all night supplicated the God of healing, pouring out a stream from her eyes upon the ground, and she used the mud from her tears as a remedy for the disease. When her mother was earnestly distressed and asking her again to see the doctor, she said that there was a cure for her disease if her mother with her own hand would make the sign of the cross on the place. When the mother put her hand inside to make the sign of the cross on her breast, the sign of the cross worked and the sore disappeared. "13 0 There is much in this story that echoes Gregory of Nazianzen's tale of his sister Gorgonia's miraculous cure, told some ten years earlier.13 1 Both women refuse the aid of physicians, revealing their bodies only in the privacy of personal ritual. Both create a strange, even, as Gregory Nazianzen admits, "effronterous" poultice, crafted from a holy substance and the product of their own piety, namely their tears. Macrina's cure was actually formed from the fabric of the chapel itself, that is, its dirt floor, as well as the healing touch of her mother. That is, in both instances and particularly in Macrina's case, the power of the ritual derives from its private, domestic setting. The seclusion and privacy which inspired and empowered the rituals mark even the telling of them; Gregory of Nyssa and Gregory Nazianzen both avow that these events were kept secret from all but the woman's intimates, the miracle, like her body, modestly hidden from public view. Only upon her death is the miracle revealed by her biographers.
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The other miracle enacted by Macrina was performed on a small local girl whose eyes had been infected. '32 Her parents were visiting Macrina's home and had brought their daughter with them. Macrina assured the parents that she had a particularly efficacious cure for eye ailments, but when they departed, they discovered she had failed to give it to them. It was then they realized that their daughter had been cured, simply by being inside Macrina's "divine abode" and soaking up its atmosphere of prayer. 133 Again, Gregory locates the miracle, and the miracle's power, in the home, a home made holy by Macrina's pIOUS prayers. Gregory's tale is a carefully crafted piece of rhetoric, one that not only drew upon its author's classical education, but relied heavily upon traditional ideologies of house and family to frame its subject. '34 The home as the story's mise-en-scene is presented as the natural boundary of female activity: while Basil, Gregory, N aucratis, and even Peter enter and leave the narrative as they head off to school, ecclesiastical careers and desert asceticism, Macrina remains a fixed point centered on the home. '35 The topos and the contrast was an ancient one: from Aristotle to Columella, Greek and Roman male authors had engendered the public/private dichotomy, locating masculinity in the forum and femininity in the home.13 6 The rhetorical tradition was particularly strong in the Greek east, where even the home itself was notionally, if not actually, divided into male and female sectors (the so-called andronitis and gynaeconitis), just as Macrina's home was said to be. '37 Woman's virtues - modesty, chastity, industriousness - were either proper to the domestic sphere or best displayed there. Even female pietas was traditionally domus-defined, either in the careful tending of the cults of the hearth, the Lares/Penates or agathos-daimon, or in service to those goddesses whose own qualities were domestic in nature Vesta of the hearth, Ceres and Fortuna of fecundity. 13 8 The home itself thus was a praiseworthy place because it played host to those virtues and produced a moral sphere of action that complimented that of the public. 139 When occasion called for the public praise of a woman, it was typically private virtues that were emphasized - obedience, chastity, domestic thriftiness - locating the subject in an imagined familial sphere. '40 Gregory's narrative of the virtuous housebound female surrounded by more peripatetic males is, in its most basic outlines, an old story. Macrina and her mother's church-building activities and pious works likewise sat within a long tradition of female euergetism and the praise of such, particularly potent in the Greek east. '4' Female patronage of public buildings and religious ceremonies was not only common, but publicly touted through the hundreds of inscriptions that described these women's projects, alongside their respective virtues. Although applauded as civic benefactors, these patronesses are persistently identified through their families. '42 Much as Gregory does throughout the Life, these panegyric inscriptions deployed lists of the woman's male relatives to "accompany" her public or semi-public
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endeavors. In this sense, Gregory's careful inclusion ofMacrina's male relatives is an effort not only to parade his whole family's piety and accomplishments, but also to provide her with male bodyguards of unimpeachable character in her public hagiographic debut. Gregory circulated the Life not only to promote his sister and family but also himself, and the topos of female domestic virtue was one that could be counted upon to do important polemical work. Gregory's family hailed from elite Cappadocian landowners and imperial bureaucrats, a class which had for centuries staked their own fitness for public office on the virtue of their familia, virtue in part embodied by the family's women.l~3 This tradition found public figures proudly touting their sister's chastity or mother's woolworking habits in the public form as a means of guaranteeing their own moral probity, their solicitude for the public good, and their vision of a well-ordered society.144 Unlike his elder brother, Basil, who rarely mentioned his family in his ecclesiastical writings, Gregory had no qualms about promoting his ecclesiastical career through reference to his family. 145 His long panegyric on the Forty Martyrs, as well as his Vita Macrinae, placed his family center stage in the dramas of ascetic practice and martyr cult. For Gregory as well as his friend Gregory Nazianzen, family and spiritual authority were not separate but conjoined, the former buttressing one's claims to the latter in a manner common to generations of Roman elites. And yet, for all his appeal to a traditional moral language, Gregory's Vita ends by offering a very different ideology of the private and of female virtue based around it. Like Gregory Nazianzen's Gorgonia with her eucharistic tincture, the precocious individualism of his protagonist's domestic rituals have no precedent in earlier female topoi. From the churches she and her mother build, to her use of church dust and her mother's hand to heal cancer, Macrina is never presented as dependent on a public church, nor does she simply imitate its rituals in the private sphere. 146 Rather she and her household are the impresarios of ritual. As was suggested above, these rituals were crafted from the private itself, using pieces of her "divine abode" or her own tears, and as with Gorgonia, it is the obscuring walls of the private which prevents these slightly bizarre acts from being "effionterous" and makes them genuinely holy. Indeed, what is perhaps most notable about Gregory's narrative, as well as the other polemics on female asceticism, is the reversal of the ancient public/private hierarchy: holy female power is not realized or even dependent upon the public, but generated entirely within the domus and the familia, that is, within the private itself. 147 To a large extent this is accomplished by radically intensifying the topos of home as locus of female virtue. No longer simply a moral counterpart to the forum, women's homes came to imitate, even to embody female virtue itself. Just as the virgin's body was "an enclosed garden" the home was a likewise walled fortress. 148 The ascetic's piety actually
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saturated the walls of the house, transforming it into "that holy place (i) 6EICX EKEIVTj)," even, in Macrina's case, radiating a healing balm to mistress and visitors alike. I49 Even the pious woman's euergetism is now directed inwards, in the form of house chapels and estate churches, while the public liturgies are often eschewed. Indeed, at the end of Macrina's life, it is the public the local bishop and clergy - who flock to her funeral, a procession which moves between two holy points within the estate itself, the virgin's house and the Forty Martyr's church which is also the family's mausoleum. ISO These stories not only trumpet a private female virtue, they imbue it with its own, self-generating power.
The Private and Female Heresy Just as those accused of home-based heresy turned the rhetorical tables on their accusers, the topos of stay-at-home female asceticism was occasionally wielded against women as a mark of heresy.IsI Already in the mid fourth century, Alexander of Alexandria's attacks on the city's Arians employed the trope of the heretical, domestic female. Writing to his episcopal colleagues to solicit their aid, he disparaged the city's Arians, accusing them of using "thieves' caves (criT11Acxlcx AncrTWV)," in which they worshiped and recruited "silly and disorderly women ... laden with sins."I52 Alexander uses the topos of the interfering woman (borrowed from 2 Tim. 3:6) to present the Arians as corrupt and seditious, and transfers the same qualities onto the women's imputed domain, the home. These "thieves' dens" are described as having the same disingenuous and dangerous qualities as the women themselves. The council of Gangra, convened in response to the activities ofEustathius of Sebaste's followers, presented a more complex image of the female heretic. The council not only prohibited private eucharistic masses and gatherings, but also took aim at women who left their husbands for the ascetic life and dared to dress and cut their hair like men.IS3 Here, the list of heretical misdeeds associates the seemingly contradictory sins of domestic meetings with gadabout female ascetics who, by leaving home and husband, failed to conform to traditional female ideologies. Is4 The seeming contradiction between the tropes employed - the heretical domestic gathering and the heretical peripatetic female - may witness different private ideologies impacting one another: women who engaged in extra-church worship either inside or outside the home, might earn the reputation of claiming too much power for themselves, aspiring even to manliness. Similarly, during the Priscillianist controversy, ascetic women who hosted home-based prayer meetings with non-family members (viri aliem), or engaged in household rituals, like antiphonal hymns or the lucernarium without clerical supervision, were condemned. Iss Women's real or alleged presence in these
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meetings seems to have sharpened an already censorious episcopal gaze, and the stereotype of the female witch was likely wielded by those who accused the Priscillianists of malificium. 15 6 One these women, Euchrotia, wife of Delphinius of Bordeaux, was executed for malificium alongside Priscillian, while another, Urbica, possible relative ofAusonius, was stoned to death by a mob in Bordeaux. 157 Just as the positive image of the stay-at-home, virtuous woman derived in part from a long and potent tradition, so, too, these negative tropes drew on ancient ideologies. The topos of the female witch, conjuring magic in the privacy of her home or engaging in nighttime orgies outside of the censuring public eye, was endemic throughout the ancient world. 15 8 The'New Testament likewise offered a vision of a tainted household, ruled over by credulous women: 2 Timothy 3:6-7 warns of those " ... who work their way into households and capture little women burdened with sins, led by various desires, always seeking and never able to arrive at knowledge of truth." The accusations of home-based female heresy relied upon these traditions to make the female heretic emblematic of heresy's evils. The heretic seeks knowledge beyond her understanding and spreads her false beliefs through teaching and preaching. 159 At the same time by confining her rituals to the home, she obscures her nefarious deeds from the orthodox, male, clerical gaze. Her femaleness makes even more odious the sin of curiositas and ritual independence, While the private room of the virgin embodied purity, private female heretical worship pulled at the seams of a united Christian community,160 Indeed, these accusations find the power imputed to the private sphere by ascetic proponents rebounding negatively onto women, who are consequently deemed uppity and bold. And yet, it seems to have been a specific kind of private that was used to construct home-based heretical trope. For the bishops in Zaragoza and Toledo, it was meetings and rituals with viri alieni - non-family males - that earned women censure. Similarly, Eustathian women were barred from those activities - meeting outside the church in fellow-believers homes, cutting their hair, and wearing men's clothes - that removed them from the physical and social world of the household, a world that embodied certain female roles. That is, as was hinted in the general heretical edicts, bishops seem most discomfited by those house-based ritual communities that transcended the blood-definedJamilia and embraced instead that amorphous collection of friends, dependents, and kin - the domus. Of course, the ancient home was a highly permeable entity and at most times of the day, elite homes particularly would contain any number of viri alieni not related to the domina by blood. In constructing the trope of the heretical woman specifically around women's ritual interaction with nonrelatives, bishops seem to be taking particular aim at this broader domus-private. In other words, behind the topos lurks an effort to draw the lines of orthodoxy
21 3
IDEOLOGIES OF THE PRIVATE
around a narrow definition of familia composed of blood and marital kin, potentially leaving the ancient melange of friends and dependents - the domus - in a suspect, heresy-tinged no-man's land. r6r The idea finds support in a most unlikely source, namely Gregory's panegyric on Macrina. Gregory and his family had grown up in Eustathius of Sebaste's shadow and the ascetic bishop seems to have been a major influence on Gregory's brother Basil, if not on Gregory himself. r62 Gregory would have been aware ofEustathius' extra-familial, house-based ascetic groups, not least from the negative advertising they received at the council of Gangra in 355, and Gregory's portrayal of Macrina's house-based piety should thus be considered in their light. For the private in which Gregory places his heroine is of a particular shade: the deliberate attempts to flank Macrina with mother and brothers, to shelter her miraculous rituals from all prying eyes except her mother's and ultimately, his own, the brother-narrator, all describe a tight, kin-based familia as the setting for Macrina's pious devotions. Gregory's kinbased "private" may thus have been deliberately constructed to steer around the more expansive domus-private of suspect groups like Eustathius'. r 6 3 Home-based female ascetics of the fourth century were caught in a changing world, one in which bishops increasingly promoted a virginal or chaste elect, and simultaneously sought to control and harness that elect to the larger Christian community. And yet, while bishops like Ambrose and Basil would attempt to channel female ascetic impulses into ordered systems like the order of virgins or the coenobitic ascetic community, other, less powerful prelates often regarded such ascetic endeavors as threats to their own, still fragile, public power. r 64 The various negative tropes associating housebound women with nefarious activities gave vent to these anxieties, while leaving a new, narrower definition of tile familia as somewhat safer ground. These tropes seem to have inverted the evolving topoi of the powerful housebound female ascetic, using them instead to bolster the more ancient image of the uppity woman or female witch. That is, the image of the powerful heretical woman derived from the same cache of rhetoric as that of the pious stay-at-home woman, a rhetoric that used public/private dichotomies to identifY virtue or vice.
CONCLUSIONS: DEBATING THE PRIVATE
Neither the Zaragozan bishops who condemned eucharistic reservation nor Gregory Nazianzen who praised it would have approached the issue of private ritual with a wholly neutral gaze. Private ritual practice and the conceptual private generally had accumulated centuries of moral detritus, both positive and negative, detritus that was not easily sloughed off. Thus, when bishops and imperial law-makers wrestled with the novel task of identifYing and enforcing correct belief, they may have borrowed from ancient laws that located traitorous
214
CONCLUSIONS: DEBATING THE PRIVATE
magic and superstition in the private sphere. Similarly, Christian males eager to define an ideal of female Christian virtue turned to older tropes, such as the stay-at-home matrona modestly avoiding the public gaze. And yet, these earlier ideologies were not absorbed into Christian discourse unchanged. As they passed through the gristmill of rhetoric and genuine local exigency, both the negative and positive topoi of "the private" and private ritual were concentrated and intensified. No longer just a spatial container for acts deemed illicit, the home became one of the identifying markers of heretical belief, the setting for presumed heretical ritual and even the physical embodiment of heresy itself, dark and duplicitous. The house had become a space where the values embodied by the collective were subverted and betrayed. Even the familia became a contested area: distinctions between blood kin and broader friendship-dependency groups became more sensitive, and orthodoxy wound itself more tightly around the former, leaving the permeable, expansive ancient domus in a moral lurch. A flip of the moral-rhetorical coin found homes and house-based ritual at the center of not only female virtue, but female holiness. The increasing emphasis on chastity gave the house new power as chastity's stoutest protector. As the private sheltered and protected virtuous women, it increasingly came to define them: female ascetic discipline might take its cues from family meals and private chapel worship, while female ritual became more potent when practiced in private. The home and the private became saturated with holy female power. The simultaneous intensification of both tropes during the fourth and early fifth centuries reflects more than the rising popularity of all kinds of housebased private worship, from ascetic retreat to group meetings. The accentuation of public/private rhetorical topoi points to an increasing urgency in the public/private debate. In an age of escalating conversion and imperial promotion, defining what behaviors, persons, even kinds of familia, were properly Christian, and which were not, became ever more vital. 1 6 5 As has long been noted, the struggle to define orthodoxy and the turn to asceticism were both energized by this same dilemma. Thus, defending the collective orthodox from heretical schism was a struggle to mark boundaries of Christian identity. Labeling the private and the home as bastions of heresy was a means of physically locating those boundaries in ways that were legally enforceable and more immediately comprehensible than doctrinal arcania. In other words, marking the boundaries of a new orthodox public required a correspondingly negative heretical private. Likewise, the swelling numbers of Christians also raised the problem of internal Christian hierarchies. If everyone could be Christian, wherein lay the possibility for Christian distinction? Asceticism provided one means of isolating an elite from the prosaic mass of believers, a means of marking out a space within and yet apart from the Christian collective. The home and the familia
21 5
IDEOLOGIES OF THE PRIVATE
were obvious rhetorical loci of ascetic action precisely because they provided neat and traditionally accepted privates to set against a worldly Christian public. The topos was particularly potent in the construction of female asceticism, as the home had always been associated with female virtue and even non-ascetic, married women like Gorgonia could bask in its virtuous glow. The fact that these positive and negative ideologies of the home could be inverted and used by both those accused of heresy and those who condemned female asceticism, further suggests how potent public/private poleInic had become. In framing their homes as spaces of apostolic virtue, the accused 'heretics' were agreeing that virtue and vice were to be distinguished along public/private lines. Similarly, those who accused women of heresy on account of their home-based ascetic activities used the same criteria that proponents of female asceticism had found praiseworthy. By employing the same publici private contrasts, but simply inverting their valuations, these groups actually reinforced the public/private dialectic as a litmus test of Christian virtue. The fourth and early fifth centuries were an era of boundary-marking. 166 Marking the boundaries of the newly public faith frequently meant negotiating the relationship between individuals, families, and other kinds of small groups and the broader Christian collective. In other words, laying out the boundaries of Christian identity meant re-probing and re-surveying the boundaries between public and private. The public/private discourse thus took on a new urgency, placing the home, home-based ritual, and its impresarios at the center of an ideological battleground.
216
Conclusions
er
he year 4 88 found a group of monks wandering around Italy carrying a corpse. I The body was that of Severinus ofNoricum on the Danube, tireless defender of his war-torn land, missionary to the limes populations, and abbot of a thriving monastery.2 After his death in 482 and the final collapse of the Danube frontier, Severinus' followers embarked on a journey to fulfill their master's dying wish - to carry his body with them into exile. 3 For six years they traveled looking for an appropriate spot until finally, south of Rome, one presented itself. The clarissima Barbaria, a wealthy Neapolitan lady, had corresponded with Severinus and, hearing of his monks' wanderings, offered her suburban estate, the Castellum Lucullanum at the edge of Naples, as a final resting place. 4 The Castellum Lucullanum, today near or beneath the picturesque Castel dell'Ovo, had been in imperial hands since the first century; its most recent guest the last Roman emperor, Romulus Augustulus, and the clarissima Barbaria, too, may have come from imperial stock. 5 Eugippius, one of Severinus' monks, reports that Barbaria built a memoria on the estate to hold the revered remains. 6 On the day of its consecration, crowds of Neapolitans trooped out to the Castellum to be healed by Severinus' miraculous power. For the monks, Barbaria built a monastery, stocking it with an extraordinary collection of books and underwriting a scriptorium, while through her patronage, Eugippius became the toast of Rome, serving, like Rufinus and Paulinus of N ola before him, as spiritual advisor to various members of the Anicii family. 7 Thus did the cult of Saint Severinus find a home in Italy and an imperial villa become a martyr shrine and center of Christian learning. The story of Severinus' last journey is, in many ways, the story of this book. Private, extra-episcopal initiatives like Barbaria's at Castellum Lucullanum played formative roles during Christianity's first tumultuous public centuries. From the tituli of Rome to the great suburban martyria of Constantinople,
21 7
CONCLUSIONS
house- and estate-based churches and shrines helped shape the early Christian topographies of both city and countryside in East and West. With the accelerating conversion of Rome's elite, private worship flourished and a panoply of domestic worship spaces, from tiny relic shrines to great villa basilicas, sprang up in its wake. It was in houses, too, that new forms of Christian piety were nourished. Houses played a major role in the ascetic movement, either shielding the early elite ascetic from the worldly call of the city, or, as in the case of Castellum Lucullanum, serving as ready-made monasteries for outside ascetics, who looked to the dominus or domina as patron. As Barbaria did for Severinus, Eusebia for the Forty Martyrs, and Paulinus for Felix, it was domini who also nurtured some of the era's most powerful saints' cults, collecting their relics, building estate-based martyr shrines, and promoting their worship far beyond the walls of the home. Such private churches and shrines, martyria and mausolea were not simply inward-looking products of individual piety any more than places like Castellum Lucullanum were simply private houses. The "private" of the private church was the private of the elite Roman world built around the far-reaching networks of family, friendship, and patronage, intensely status-conscious, and for those reasons, capable of embracing thousands of hectares or, like Barbaria's shrine of Severinus, an entire city. Yet, as we have seen, this effervescence of private cult was not necessarily welcomed by still-fragile bishops. The newly Christian elite brought with them a tradition of religious independence and a habit of integrating their private ritual with their civic lives. The episcopate, on the other hand, had always had an ambivalent attitude to extra-communal rites, particularly as bishops gradually claimed a monopoly over all forms of Christian ritual. Private rites were increasingly regarded as a distinctly different kind of piety, inferior to that practiced with the communal group. The result of these very different attitudes toward the private was a constant hum of tension that accumulated around all kinds of private worship ventures. The volume of this tension varied from region to region and city to city as different constellations of bishops and elites struggled with this "value gap" in different ways. It would find more generalized expression in a flurry of laws that associated heresy with house-based worship, and an equally powerful, positive rhetoric equating home-based worship with sanctity, particularly among women. From being a relatively neutral category of religious experience, the private had become a moral yardstick, a marker of heresy and sanctity, virtue and vice. The explosion of private worship had helped to provoke a "private revolution."
PRIVATE WORSHIP AND THE "CHRISTIANIZATION" OF THE ARISTOCRACY
This "private revolution" - the shouts and murmurs echoing between bishops and elites, the strain between home and cathedral - describes a somewhat
218
PRIVATE WORSHIP AND THE "CHRISTIANIZATION" OF THE ARISTOCRACY
different late antique Christianity than we have come to know, one more deeply riven by its own internal fissures and challenged by unexpected agents. The so-called "Christianization of the Roman aristocracy," for instance, is frequently cast as an integral part of the church's institutional growth. 8 Prompted by the emperor's own conversion and a gradual preference for Christian administrators in the imperial bureaucracy, the conversion of the senatorial elite seems to have indirectly bolstered the church's administrative apparatus. 9 Senatorial aristocrats' gradual ascendancy to the episcopal throne would seem proof positive of this venture, and of a natural collusion between traditional Roman and newer Christian kinds of elites. IQ The history of private worship describes a more complex relationship. Roman elites derived their status from wholly different sources - patronage, family, and proximity to the imperial bureaucracy - than did bishops, whose authority, at least theoretically, derived from apostolic succession, liturgical privileges, moral qualities, and increasingly, prerogatives over doctrinal matters. II While bishops constantly resorted to patronage and friendship networks to accomplish their ecclesiastical goals, these moves - treating ecclesiastical estates as personal property, or short-circuiting the clerical cursus to promote friends or dependents to episcopal office - often earned them the censure of their peers. 12 Bishops, it was slowly becoming clear, were supposed to act according to different standards than their secular colleagues. With certain regional exceptions, fourth- and early fifth-century aristocrats, particularly in the West, did not join the episcopate in any great numbers and thus the gap between these two kinds of elites remained a wide one. I3 The many tensions that sprang up between elite private church-founders and bishops thus derived not simply from a conflict over the right to govern those churches, but from a fundamentally different conception of religious authority. Aristocrats shaped their churches in the same way they structured their socio-political lives through friendship and patronage, with a vigilant eye ever-attuned to selfpromotion. Their authority over these churches derived, in their minds, quite naturally from the authority they wielded over family and dependents, and the house was the stage upon which these relationships were acted out, be it in the estate church or in the dining room. Aristocrats were not bishops' natural allies, they were their competition, fostering powerful spiritual coteries whose relationship with the episcopal church was ambiguous at best. In other words, the conversion of the aristocracy presented the institutional church with not only its greatest opportunity, but also with one of its greatest challenges. For the conversion of Rome's aristocratic families brought to a boil an ancient problem, one which had plagued Christian communities from their inception: the tension between the familial domus and the episcopally lead church. We have noted the long and convoluted history of this problem, born of Christian communities' own Janus-faced attitude towards blood families, procreation, and family derived authority. The conversion of the first families
21 9
CONCLUSIONS
of the realm, particularly those of ancient lineage and ingrained familial habits, forced the problem offamilia to center-stage. These were aristocrats for whom family was not simply a locus of daily life, but the center of a vast web that bound civic office, economic productivity, and religious sentiment in a cat's-cradle of relationships, stretching across provinces and across generational time. These powerful multinational familiae could not be easily absorbed into a church structure centered around leaders of more middling class, based in the local diocese. The ancient family and aristocratic families in particular were powerful social organisms whose hierarchies, geography, and values were not so easily knit into the "family of Christ" and perhaps even more than recalcitrant pagans or heretics, constituted the single greatest obstacle to the creation of what we would recognize as the medieval episcopate. 14
PRIVATE WORSHIP AND SACRED SPACE
If our vision of the "Christianization of the aristocracy" is somewhat troubled by the "private revolution," even more so is our notion of the "Christianization of space." Late antiquity is imagined as a world of rising public basilicas, of cities whose Christian transformation is narrated through the replacement of temple with the new Christian basilica, of downtown forum with suburban martyr shrine. IS In other words, it is a narrative that focuses on architectural transformations and locational shifts. The popularity and power of domestic Christian centers suggests not only an additional type of Christian center, the elite domus, but describes an additional, friction-filled narrative, namely a crisis in the conception of sacred space. Christian physical sacredness was, in theory, extraordinarily malleable and intensely physical. I6 On the one hand were the fundamental and oft-repeated biblical assurances that God might be worshipped anywhere; the ubiquity of God's presence implied that no place, not even communal worship sites, had any particular holiness. These ideas were tacitly challenged in the third century by the growth of the cult of the saints, whose places of martyrdom and burial were believed to be imbued with particular sanctity.I7 In these places, the time separating martyrdom and the present might break down, and the power of the saint would be poured into the physical object, be it a particle of the saint's body, the building which contained it, or even the surrounding earth. 18 The same type of temporal folding and reification of the holy was likewise inherent to the mass. Through the liturgy, itself the re enactment of the Christ's words at the last supper, the eucharistic bread "became" the body of Christ. Again, holy power, originating in an event in the past, was poured into an object. These objects could be freed from the contexts that created them - the martyr's grave or the church - broken into pieces, and transported elsewhere, their holiness intact. As such, these objects and places might be possessed by
220
PRIVATE WORSHIP AND SACRED SPACE
individuals and the ties with their communal space or communal liturgies forced to the background. That is, the particular Christian conception of sacred history and its "presence" in particular places and people permitted the creation of a reified, portable, possessable Christian holy.19 Furthermore, since the full power, indeed, the whole of Christian history itself was contained in these fragments, these transported objects could themselves make space sacred; the translation and dispersion of the relics of the protomartyr Stephen created a constellation of sacred sites from Jerusalem to Spain; although less potent, the eucharistic bread, wherever it was carried, likewise created spaces of particular sacredness whose purity, according to N ovatian or Cyprian, had to be particularly guarded. 20 . Hegel famously regarded this "possessability" of the Christian holy as the faith's most pernicious trait, for it was, "its quality as an external object" that permitted the "alien hand" of the clergy to monopolize its power. "The highest of human blessings," he lamented, "is in the hands of others. "21 Nothing could be farther from the truth. In fact, the reification of the sacred and its concomitant ability to create new sacred places created a potentially infinite cycle of multiplication, making its monopolization by one group, even the clergy, impossible. What Hegel perhaps sensed is that the highly portable Christian sacred demanded a guarantor, an authority that certified its separation from the profane. Accompanying the transportability and possessability of the Christian holy was thus the concomitant need to guarantee its genuineness. As made plain by the episcopal attempts to "certify" martyrs remains, the prohibitions against dispersing the eucharistic bread across diocesan lines, or the "adoption" of different martyrs by various Roman church factions, Christian communities shaped themselves by the space they claimed and the struggle between communities frequently took place through the contestation of space and object.22 The constitution of "sacred space" and the guarantors of its sacredness were thus matters of intense debate. The space of the home was one of those places that witnessed this crisis of the sacred in a particularly intense way. Sites like the Ss. Giovanni e Paolo relic shrine, the great Loupian estate basilica, or Sulpicius Severus' memoria for Clarus were sacred spaces created by the agency of their patrons, cemented by the possession of a holy relic or a weekly mass. But were these sites actually sacred? Was the dominus' fiat sufficient to produce sacredness? The debate surrounding private worship that raged through the imperial law codes and ascetic treatises was not only a debate about the ideology of the private, it was also a debate about the nature of the sacred. If the home was deemed sacred because of its domestic Christian virtues, it was a natural site for rituals that would in turn reinforce its sacredness through the presence of holy objects, such as relics and eucharistic bread. If, on the other hand, the home was deemed suspicious by virtue of its separation from a publicly defined "holy," those same rituals and objects could be interpreted as mockeries, or worse,
221
CONCLUSIONS
magical, as happened in the case of the Priscillianists and other alleged heretical groups. The debates surrounding private worship were thus tied to the debates over the nature and prerogatives of sacred space.
PRIVATE WORSHIP AND CHRISTIAN MEMORY
Finally, the fourth- and fifth-century "private revolution" sheds a new light on Christianity's relationship with its Roman past. We are accustomed to tracing that relationship by identifying the past's identifiable chunks - pagan iconographies, Virgilian quotations, ancient festivals thinly veiled as saint's feasts - floating in a stream of "Christian" or "medieval" culture. The past is thus treated like so much flotsam, carried along as the corrosive affects of cultural change slowly broke it up into ever smaller remnants. Private worship represents a more subtle link with the past, the maintenance not of a thing or a practice, but of a social habit. The first generations of Christian elites brought with them to their new faith a particularly Roman ideology of the religious private, a seemingly contradictory combination of legal exactitude and practical laissez-faire, and it was this way of thinking which so strongly impacted both the nature of their private churches and their attitude towards the episcopate. For these new Roman converts, the blurriness between public and private religiosity, personal rituals and civic status, and household and the broader "public," was one of the facts of life, part of being an elite. It was this persistence of a social habit that would turn out to be so troubling to bishops, and so difficult to alter. That is, for Christian bishops, the challenges of the pagan past were not limited to animal sacrifice or a fondness for Plato, but extended into the deeper realms of social structure, structure that was embedded in the mentalite of the most fervent and wealthy new converts.
TOWARDS THE MIDDLE AGES AND BEYOND
In a small way, Barbaria's "adoption" of Severinus and his monks encapsulated the many facets of this "private revolution" and reflected this deeply complex, fissure-ridden late antique Christendom. And yet by 488, the hour was already late and the world that this book describes - still intensely Roman and newly Christian - had already begun to change. In the West, the fourthcentury economic boom was drawing to a close. As trade routes shrank and surpluses were no longer produced for an international market, the horizons of the great multinational familiae shrank too, drawing more closely around their own regions. 23 The shrinkage of the global economy and cessation of imperial rule likewise brought an end to elite monumental culture: a great domus was no longer necessary, or even affordable, and villas and urban houses
222
TOWARDS THE MIDDLE AGES AND BEYOND
were subdivided into multi-family units or took more modest forms. As the presence and reach of the aristocracy were shrinking, the power of the episcopate was growing. By the later fifth and early sixth centuries, the western aristocracy was joining the episcopal ranks in ever greater numbers and episcopal coffers began to rival the fortunes of the great families. Church building was finally in full swing, and most major cities could boast a number of fine new basilicas and martyr shrines. With presence and money came power; bishops took over many functions of the often-defunct civic apparatus, evolved an increasingly complex and rigorous institutional system, and with a century of church councils and imperial law to back them up, governed their communities with growing firmness. Conversely, the rising power of the institutional church inexorably transformed the family, as burial and baptism were slowly institutionalized and the rituals of birth and death were pulled inside the cathedral. In the East, change in the later fifth century was perhaps less marked than in the West. Pan-Mediterranean economies did not collapse as they did in the West and may have even improved through the early sixth century. In most communities the episcopate was by this time already at least a century old, and bishops had long extended their influence into the countryside through a system of chorepiscopi. The shift that most profoundly altered attitudes to the private was, as in the West, the successful envelopment by the episcopate of all elements that previously had remained outside its purview. In this respect, the Council of Chalcedon marked a watershed in the growth of episcopal hegemony; monasteries and domestic churches alike were emphatically located inside an episcopally governed community, their actions monitored by an everkeener episcopal gaze. 24 The affects of these changes on private worship were slow, but profound, and whispers of them can already be detected in Eugippius' narrative. Unlike the private church builders of the fourth and early fifth century, the clarissima Barbaria was obliged to request official permission for her martyrium project from Gelasius, the bishop of Rome. The effort to oversee private churches that began at Chalcedon had by this time spread to Italy, where Gelasius and his successors required papal approval for all private churches and their clergy, while prohibiting their use for baptism and burial. 25 Somewhat later, Justinian would undertake similar reforms in the East, requiring the local bishop personally to consecrate all private churches, approve the patron's choice of clergy, even to the point of discouraging private eucharistic rituals. 26 In Gaul and Hispania, conciliar canons less forcefully - and less successfully - urged elites and their clergy to attend feast-day liturgies in the episcopal church and carefully monitored the activities of private-church clerics and monks. 27 Indeed, Barbaria was obliged to invite the bishop of Naples to oversee her consecration ceremonies, a gesture which in the past had been a mere courtesy but was now an obligation.
223
CONCLUSIONS
Just how much the episcopal-elite power dichotomy had reversed itself is suggested by the afterlife of Barbaria's project. In 592 the Castellum Lucullanum's new domina, the gloriosa Clementina, was implicated in an episcopal mugging. It seems her slaves had attacked the temporary bishop of Naples, one Paul, beating him severely. Gregory the Great in Rome heard of the deed and sent one of his subdeacons, a new powerful class of administrator-clerics, south to investigate and to warn Clementina of "the dangers of rebelling against a bishop. "28 The results of the investigation are unclear, but five months later, Gregory ordered some of Severinus' relics be removed to Rome. 29 Did the gloriosa Clementina hand over the relics as a peace offering, or were they taken from her as punishment? In either case, for church-owning aristocrats, it was clear that the days of laissez-faire independence were over: elites like Clementina now danced to an episcopal tune. What is missing from both Eugippius' account and the tiff between Clementina and Gregory is also a sign of the times. Neither the clarissima Barbaria, who one-upped the bishop of Naples by obtaining Severinus' body, nor Clementina, who beat up the bishop, is ever accused of heresy. The storm of heretical accusations that had gathered around private worship in the later fourth and early fifth centuries had abated, and with it some of the most intense public/private anxieties. The rising power of the episcopate and particularly the episcopate's adoption and "domestication" of many elements of the ascetic movement calmed the church's severest growing pains and diverted disagreement and boundary-marking into more controllable channels - those countless canons and regulatory edicts. The later fifth, and, above all, the sixth century was an era of regulation: increasingly confident bishops might now rely upon an institutional and canon law apparatus to articulate the power of their office and to distinguish themselves from more docile aristocratic elites. 30 As those canons and edicts are testament, the debate over the private continued unabated, but now the stakes had lowered: Christianity's social shape had become somewhat more firmly set, with the bishop standing more confidently at its center. The increasing self-assurance of the Christian public church meant that problems of identity - of insiders and outsiders, heresy and orthodoxy no longer clung so tightly to public/private dichotomies. Indeed, now the shoe was on the other foot, as the private struggled to imitate a language of power dictated by Christian bishops. In the East, elites built house churches that imitated the architecture and liturgical furnishings of their local episcopal basilicas, dollhouse-like spaces that reproduced the cathedral in miniatureY In the West, the seigniorial elite competed with the parish church for the attention and donations of rural populations, their larger more liturgically replete estate churches indistinguishable from episcopally sponsored projects. No longer were the standards of display set by the structure of the domus and the familia; now they emanated from the cathedra.
224
TOWARDS THE MIDDLE AGES AND BEYOND
And yet, the aftershocks of the "private revolution" would continue to resonate throughout the early Middle Ages. In the East, the Monophysite controversy continued to generate intense debate around public/private issues. Many of Justinian's frantic, oft-repeated restrictions on private worship were tied to his efforts to enforce church unity in the face of anti-Chalcedonian protest. Just as had been the case in the fourth century, the home-based protest meetings and mail-order reserved eucharists organized by stalwart nonChalcedonian bishops must have been indistinguishable from the domestic rites in homes of every stripe. Indeed, the worsening crisis of church unity in the East seems to have perpetuated many of the same kinds of rhetorical and legal agonizing over public/private issues that had marked the fourth century. In the West, although the rising power of the parish would eventually spell the end of the powerful estate church, in the sixth and even the seventh centuries the future was not so clear. Indeed, the very rites by which the parish church would define itself - burial, baptism, and weekly eucharistic mass - were those that, in many areas, private estate churches had already claimed for a century or more prior to the parish's advent. The parish church in northern Italy, southern Gaul, and Hispania would be profoundly shaped by this encounter; indeed, it was through this struggle to replace the private as the sole source of rural Christianity that the parish would forge its own identity. 3 2 Continuing conflict, however, was not private worship's only offspring. So powerful were the private projects of the first Christian centuries and so embedded in the conception of the Christian elite that their afterlife was almost assured - at least in a more carefully monitored form. Indeed, for the Merovingian and Frankish kings, a church was a natural part of any welloutfitted palace, and their overflowing relic collections formed a kind of holy complement to their royal treasuries. 33 A good Roman like Gregory of Tours would describe them without comment - the palace chapel was, after all, no barbarous oddity, but a familiar aristocratic accoutrement. 34 Indeed, it may have been the expansion of the earliest and greatest of these domestic Christian projects, the churches of the Great Palace in Constantinople, which had helped to legitimate its successors and to inspire the Gothic habit and its Carolingian afterlife. By the seventh century, the Great Palace boasted at least a half-dozen churches of all sizes and dedications, housing many of Constantinople's most precious relics. 35 In the eyes of contemporaries, both the Great Palace and its smaller Frankish imitations had become a super-saturated Holy Land, and, as the residence of Christ's earthly agent and storehouse of holy power, a faint echo of the Heavenly Jerusalem itself. 36 In at least a few houses, then, the ancient habit of private worship and the domestic holy would be perpetuated within a new elite ideology - the concept of divine kingship.
225
CONCLUSIONS
And yet, the crisis of public and private that accompanied the rise of the institutional church left its deepest imprint not in the pomp of kings, but on the everyday lives of average people. That profound ambiguity and deep unease between individuals and families on the one hand and the Christian collective on the other, an unease most keenly felt in the practice of domestic worship, has troubled the church to this day. From the Reformation to Vatican II, the family as a religious unit, the piety of the individual, and the role and meaning of a Christian private send continual tremors through Christian comrnunities. 37 The space of the home has likewise continued to serve as a potent, but highly controversial moral container; whether cast as suspect centers of unsanctioned icon veneration, held up as fonts of Victorian ideals of piety, or retained as the only appropriate religious venue under a liberal democracy, domestic space retains the same high moral charge it attracted during late antiquity.3 8 The rift between individual and collective, which opened during those first Christian centuries, has never been fully bridged, and ambiguity and dissonance remain late antique private worship's most enduring legacies.
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Notes
INTRODUCTION I.
2. 3.
4.
5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 1I. 12. 13 .
The story is recorded in Sozomen, Hist. Becl. 9.2 (PG 6TI597A-1601C), who provides a date falling within the episcopate ofProclus (434-46). Sozomen's narrative is repeated with some changes in the fourteenth century by Nicophorus Callistus, Hist. Becl. 14.10 (PG 146:1085B-1089D) who claims a date of 451, probably derived from the tradition recorded in the seventh-century Chronieon Pasehale, a.c. 45 I (PG 92:813A). On the history ofThyrsus who passed through the cities of Caesarea in Bythinia, Apamea, Apollonia, and Miletus on his way to martyrdom, AASS Jan. 3:423-4. On the cult of the Forty Martyrs in Constantinople, see Janin 1953, 498-502. Ancient and modern histories emphasizing Pulcheria's role in the story include the Chronicon Pasehale s.a. 451 (PG 92:813A); Gibbon 1851, 352 (Ch. 32); Holum 1982, 137· On Caesarius, PLRE 1.171; 2.249. The Chronicon Pasehale a.c. 451 (PG 92:813A), incorrectly attributes to Caesarius the church of the Forty Martyrs in which Pulcheria deposited her newly rediscovered relics. See also Janin 1953, 256. Cicero, Leg. 2.8 (ed. Du Mesnil 1879, 107-14); U.S. Constitution, Amendment 1; Council of Vatican II Apostolieam Actuositatem 4.18; Sacrosanetum coneilium 1.3.26-32. Some discussions of these changing notions of public power include Brown 1992; Leyser 2000; Rapp 2005; Uhalde 2007. Again from a massive bibliography, discussions include Brown 1968; idem 1988; Rousseau 1978; Cooper 1996; Elm 1994; Clark 2005. Evans Grubbs 1995; Nathan 2000. See, among many, Brown 1967; idem 1992; idem 2002; Lizzi 1989; Rousseau 1994; Brakke 1995; McLynn 1994; Rapp 2005· Krautheimer 1983; idem 1986; Pietri 1976 1.3-77; 2.461-551. Patlagean 1977; Marcone 1998, 340-4; Brown 2002. Baldovin 1987; Salzman 1990; idem 1999. Lamoreaux 1995; Uhalde 2007·
227
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4-6
14. See, for instance, Rebillard 1998; idem 2003; Lepelley 1998; Sotinel 1998; idem 2006; Brown 2000, 340; McLynn 2004, esp. 226-77; Uhalde 2007, 44-76 and passim. 15. On the holy man; P. Brown 1971, now critiqued in the essays collected in HowardJohnston and Hayward eds. 1999 and the Journal of Early Christian Studies vol. 6.3, 1998; on bishops and monks; Rapp 2000, 383-5; idem 2005. 16. On the merging of holy man and bishop; McLynn 1998; Rapp 2005; Sterk 2004. 17. The timing of these changes varied in different parts of the empire. By the mid fourth century they were well underway in many areas in the West, while only in the sixth century would equivalent changes transform eastern cities. For general overviews see Perring 1991; Liebeschuetz 2001; Ward-Perkins 2005. 18. Guidobaldi 1986; idem 1999. In Rome, the takeover of public spaces for private use seems to have occurred much later than the late antique expansion of the domus: Meneghini and Santangeli Valenzani 2004, 31-5 I. 19. Ellis 1988; idem 1991; Baldini Lippolis 2002. For the inscriptional evidence from Rome; Niquet 2000, 26-33. 20. Thebert 1987; Ellis 1997. 21. On villas, among many; Percival 1976; Gorges 1979; Black 1987; Balmelle 2001; Mulvin 2002; Scott 2004; Chavarna 2005; idem 2007a; Sfameni 2006; on their decoration; Schneider 1983; Morand 1994; Stirling 1996; Scott 2000. 22. On the changes to the senatorial order, see now the overview by Heather 1998. 23. On the diversity oflate antique elites generally, Brown 2000. 24. For the various definitions of jam ilia; Rawson 1986, 7-15; Dixon 1992, 1-35; on changes during the high and later empire; Saller 1984. 25. Saller 1984; idem 1997, 26-7, 31-2. 26. Inheritance strategies: Hillner 2003; legal changes: Evans Grubbs 1995, II5-8. 27· Shaw 1984· 28. Patlagean 1977, II3-28. Feissel 1998, 125-36, discusses a particularly telling case, a mid sixth century epigram proudly proclaiming a married couple's first-cousin kinship. Thanks to Peter Brown for pointing me to this reference. 29. Quote is from Shaw 1984, 469. For the same idea see Aries 1965, 353-4, quoting Georges Duby; critiques ofShaw and Patlagean; Martin 1996; Evans Grubbs 1995, 336-'7, respectively. Even Patlagean's 1978 study ofjust late third- and fourth-century Christian tombstones seems to support her critics: Patlagean 1978. 30. On ideologies offarnily in Roman and Christian thought see generally Dixon 1992, 1-25; Saller 1984; idem 1997; idem 1999; Nathan 2000; Allmen 1981; Shaw 1987; Brown 1988; Dassmann 1994; Cooper 1996; Barclay 1997; Clark 1999;Jacobs 1999; idem 2003; Jacobs and Kraweic 2003; Kraweic 2003. 3I. On early anti-family rhetoric, see Barton 1997; Barclay 1997. 32. On the so-called household codes; Col 3.18-4.1; Eph 5.21; Titus 2.1-10; I Tim 4-5.20,6.1-2; on the church as the "household of the faith"; Gal 6.10. 33. On ascetic "families"; Elm 1994; on tensions caused by praises of virginity; Hunter 1987. Patlagean has even suggested that ascetic practice actually lowered birthrates and contributed to a decline in population: Patlagean 1977, 128-55. 34. Shaw 1984; Yasin 2005. 35. Jacobs 2003; Krawiec 2003. 36. Evans Grubbs 1995, II8-39, 317-21, 277-300, 309-16, 330-42. 37. On funeral rituals and the family, Rebillard 2003. 38. On patronage; Marcone 1998, 356-63; Krause 1987.
228
NOTES TO PP.
6-9
39. For an evocative description of the phenomenon with its historiographic underpinnings, Brown 2000. 40. Brown 2002; Clark 2005. 41. On the prosopographic evidence, see, for instance, Heinzelmann I976. A general overview of the shared rhetorical strategies of aristocrat and bishop can be found in Brown I992. 42. Pietri I98I; Sotinel I997; idem 2006; Brown 2000, 340; Rapp 2000, 387-90. 43. On display and spectacle, see among many MacCormack I98I; Lim I999; Salzman I990. 44. On asceticism and aristocratic status, Brown I972a. 45. On Christian euergetism and building; Duval and Pietri I997; Caillet I993; on Christian poetry and its consumption; Charlet I982; Robert~ I989; Evenepoel I993· 46. For instance, Bomann I99I (pharaonic Egypt); Purvis 2003 (classical and Hellenistic Greece); Miller 2000; Jansen 2000; Spicer and Hamilton eds. 2005; Duffy I992 (medieval Europe). 47. Stutz I895; Feine I950; Imbart de la Tour I900; Torres I928; Bidagor I933. For a new assessment of these theories, see now Wood 2006, esp. 92-ro8. 48. For instance, Herman I942; idem I967; NuBbaum I979; Settia I982; Thomas I987; Wood 2006. 49. Studies that focus on private worship or mention it in passing include Percival I976, I83-99; idem I997; Violante I982; Fernandez Castro I98I; Thomas I987; Pietri I986; Maier I994; idem I995a; idem I995b; idem 2005; Monfrin I998, 992-roOI; Ripoll and Velazquez I999; Ripoll and Arce 2000; Pietri 2002; idem 2005; Cerrito 2002; Brenk 2003, 49-I28; Bowes 2005a. 50. On the more general problems caused by periodization in ancient and particularly late antique studies; Giardina I997; Golden and Toohey eds. I997; Marcone 2000; Cameron 2003a; Bowes and Gutteridge 2005. 51. For instance, Pelikan 1987, 16-8, on the social triumph of the church described in the Nicene Creed; for mystery religions, see the critiques in Smith I990. 52. For the opposite assertion, that pre-Nicene Christianity strove always to be as "public" as possible, see Finney I994. 53. Here, as in so many other areas of the discipline, the work of Adolf von Harnack casts a long shadow: see particularly Harnack 1972; idem I909. For Harnack, apostolic Christendom was characterized by multiple small, autonomous communities, which were gradually demolished through contact with Greco-Roman ideas of empire. The result, culminating with the Peace of the Church, was a universal institutional church, marked by the disappearance of independent house-churches, the insistence on doctrinal uniformity and the "rise" of the monarchical episcopate. For Harnack, the history of Christianity was the slow progress away from a particulate social system of direct interaction with God, a system he held to be the ultimate goal of his own modern Protestantism, towards the institutional apparatus and doctrinal rigidity he associated with contemporary Catholicism. For an overview ofHarnack's influence on Christianity's social history, see White 1985-6. 54. This last tendency is most prevalent in Christian archaeology. L. M. White's work on the domus ecclesiae, (White 1990) and later catalog (White I997) includes examples of private cult sites that date well after the Peace of the Church. These sites are treated as simply vestigial remains of a pre-Nicene practice, simply because of their form and location within homes, with no recognition of the different functional and
229
NOTES TO PP.
55.
56. 57. 58. 59.
60.
61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67.
68.
69. 70. 71. 72. 73.
74.
9-14
social circumstances they served. See also Gamber 1968. For criticism, see Duval 1982. For the same assumption made by historians of religion, see Klauck 1995; Beard, North, and Price 1998, 245-312 and 364-88. Especially evident in MacMullen's survey of pagan resistance and defeat; more carefully considered in Frankfurter 1998, 30 and passim, who nonetheless uses the paradigm of "resistance" to understand later domestic paganism. See also the expanded discussion of this problem in Bowes 2007. Among many self-described "Christianization" studies, see Salzman 1990; idem 2002; Markus 1990; Trombley 1993; Limberis 1994; Brenk 2003. For a formulation and critique of this paradigm, see Geertz 1973b, 142-69. On non-success, non-consensus and social change, see the critique of functionalist sociology in Boissevain 1974, II-3; on non-consensus in historical contexts; Buc 2001. For instance, see Frend 1967, who assumed that rural Christianity's specific qualities were the product of heresy or pagan influence. Critiqued by Shaw 1992. More generally on the treatment of late antique heresies as impediments to orthodox "progress," see Lyman 1999. The work of MacMullen 1997; Chuvin 1990; and Trombley 1993, among others, similarly stresses pagan/Christian boundaries as the most significant from of" dissent" from developing Christian "norms." For a proposed example of tacit religious resistance from group "norms," see EIsner 2001. Lepelley 1998; Lizzi 1998; Rebillard 1998; idem 2003. Le Boulluec 1985; Burrus 1995; Lim 1995; Lyman 1999; King 2003. See, among many, Clark 1986b; Brown 1988; Markus 1990,19-83; Elm 1994; Caner 2002. Sessa 2003; Jacobs and Kraweic 2003; Rebillard 2003. WOOlf1998, I!. Particular studies that call into question the public/private OpposltlOn include, on the home; Wallace-Hadrill 1994; Allison 1997; Ellis 1988; Zaccaria Ruggiu 1995; Riggsby 1997; Grahame 2000; Hales 2003; on gender; Kampen 1996; Wallace-Hadrill 1996; Bremen 1983; Cooper 1996, 5-17 and passim; Milnor 2005; on "privatization" in urban space/mentalite; Ellis 1988; Roueche 1997; Perring 1991. Geuss 2001, 106. For more general studies on the public/private dichotomy as problematic categories of social thought; Laslett 1973; Elshtain 1981; Gamarnikow et al. eds. 1983. Allison 1997; Ellis 2000, 178. Riggsby 1997. For a nuanced discussion the Augustan law marriage laws and the contested renegotiation of the private, see now Milnor 2005,140-85. Dix 1945, 14, emphasis added. See, respectively, Gregory Nazianzen, Or. 8.17-8 (SC 405:282-6); Paulinus of No la, Bp. 3 I and 32 (CSEL 29:267-301); Gelasius, Bpistolae ineditae, 7 (ed. Loewenfeld 1885, 4=Coll. Brit. Gel. 12). If there is a weakness to Thomas' masterful study of private foundations in the Byzantine world it is an all-encompassing definition of private cult, which while laudable in the daringness of its scope, lumps together very disparate types of private institutions. See Thomas 1987, esp. 2-3. Susan Wood has adopted a more detailed and cautious approach to the western medieval material and focused primarily on the issue of property and authority: Wood 2006.
23 0
NOTES TO PP. 14-19
75. Cf. Mackie 2003, who considers domestic churches and side chapels of public basilicas under the same analytical rubric. 76. The conclusion also of Wood 2006, II-6. 77. Even this qualifier is complicated by the difficulties of verifying contemporaneity in the archaeological record, determining what is in fact a house or particularly a rural villa versus other kinds of structures, and identifying ritual structures from other kinds of similar looking buildings. On chronology of house and church; Percival 1976, 191-8; Brogiolo and Chavarria 2003, 28-30; Christie 2004, 12-4; on identifying and defining villas in the archaeological and textual records; Percival 1976,13-5; Potter 1980; Carandini 1985; Heinzelmann 1993; Leveau 2002; Christie 2004; on identifying churches versus triclinia and other buildings; Duval, 1976a; idem 1976b; idem 1982. 78. A brief discussion of the use of oratorium in the Liber Pontifzcalis may be found in Cerrito 2002, 398 n. 3; for its use in Gallic sources; Monfrin 1998, 992-1001 and Pietri 1986, who both frequently assume oratoria to be necessarily private churches, although both admit that the term may be used ambiguously, and that other terms, such as ecclesia and basilica, are also used to describe seemingly private churches. See also DACL 12.2: 2346-72; Fevrier 1994, 27-8.
CHAPTER I. AN EMPIRE OF FAMILY AND FRIENDS: PUBLIC AND PRIVATE IN ROMAN RELIGIONS I. On Orfitus' background, PLRE 1.651. 2. Vermaseren 1977-82, 3.101-2, no. 357; idem 1977, 57-60, with other examples of such private Magna Mater cult sites around Rome. 3. On the cult of Cybele and Attis in the high empire: Roller 1999, 287-320; Beard, North and Price 1998, 1.197-8,337-3,384; Fishwick 1966. 4. The actual rite of the taurobolium/ criobolium has been largely obscured by Prudentius' famous pejorative description, in which he claims the initiate stood in a pit and the bull/ram sacrificed above, showering the initiate with its blood. More sober analyses have suggested the rite was nothing more elaborate than a typical animal sacrifice: Rutter 1968; Duthoy 1969; Vermaseren 1977, IOI-7; Sfameni Gasparro 1985, I07-18. McLynn 1996 has emphasized the tight bond between this private ritual and the public status accrued through its practice in the late empire. On the locations of taurobolic ritual in Rome, Vermaseren 1977, 43-60. 5. Vermaseren 1977-82, 3·IOI-2, nos. 357--9; CIL 6. 505-6. A votive altar to Sol and Serapis dedicated by Orfitus was found on the same site: CIL 6.402. 6. On Novatian's career; Vogt 1968, 17-56; DeSimone 1970, 21-36; Giilzow 1975· 7. These Christian communities were multiple in third-century Rome. On diversity in the second- and early third-century Roman church; Piana 1925; Jeffers 1991; Brent 1995; Lampe 2003, 358-408. 8. See, for instance, Novatian, De spectaculis 2,4 (CCL 4:168--9,171-2); Bp. 30, 31, 36 (CCL 4:199-206, 228-34, 247-50). See also D'Ales 1924, 138-69; Vogt 1968, 83- 1 36. 9. Novatian, De spectaculis 1.3; 2.1-3; 4.2-3; 6.2; 8.2-3 (CCL 4:167-8, 168--9, 171, 174,176-7); Cib. 6.6-7 (CCL 4:100-1); Bp. 30.2.1, 30.6.2 (CCL 4:200,204). 10. Novatian, De spectaculis 5.4-5.5 (CCL 4:173-4). 11. Novatian, De spectaculis 5·5 (CCL 4:173-4): ... eucharistiam inter corpora obscena meretricum Christi sanctum corpus infidelis iste circumtulit ....
23 1
NOTES TO PP.
20-23
12. Festus (ed. Lindsay 1930, 350): Publica sacra, quae publico sumptu pro populo fiunt, quaeque pro montibus pagis curis sacellis; at privata, quae pro singulis hominibus familiis gentibus fiunt. 13· Wissowa 1912, 398-9. 14. Zosimus, Hist. Nov. 4.59 (ed. Paschoud 1971-89, 2.2.329). 15. Zosimus, Hist. Nov. 5.41 (ed. Paschoud 1971-89, 3.60-1); Sozomen, Hist. Bcel. 9.6 (PG 6p609A-B) 16. For instance, De Marchi 1903, whose two volume work on private religion is largely devoted to household cult; more recently, Orr 1978; Frohlich 1991. Bakker 1994, is an exception, and extends his study to include shrines in houses and workplaces, compital shrines, and mithraea. 17. See also Gaius, Inst. 2.5 (FIRA 2:48); Marcian, Dig. 1.8.6·3; Wissowa 1912, 385-6, 400; Riipke 2001, 36-7, with an interesting discussion of the way in which the publica/privata distinctions derive from familial definitions. 18. On the status of the Lares compitales, see Gradel 2002, II; for their status in late antiquity; Panciera 1970, 13 I-58. 19. Panciera 1980, 209. 20. On the mithraea of Rome; Griffith 1993; Pavia 1999; on the shrine to the eastern/ Egyptian gods on the Janiculum; Turcan 1992, 188-93; for what little is known of the Christian community centers of Rome; Apollonj Ghetti 1978; White 1990; idem 1997; Lampe 2003 and Chapter 2 of this book. 21. Amrnianus Marcellinus 29.2.28-31; 30.5.II (ed. Seyfarth 1978,2.109-10,146). 22. Dom. 1.1 (ed. Nisbet 1939, I). 23. On the continued relevance and function of the civic priesthoods in late antiquity; Firmicus Maternus, Mathesis 4.21.5 (ed. Kroll and Skutsch 1897-1913, 261-2); Artemidorus, Onirocritica 2.30 (ed. Hercher 1864, 153). See also Schumacher 1978; Wardman 1986. Cameron 1999, 109-10, claims the priesthoods were empty status symbols. 24. On Athens; Trombley 1993, 295-304; on western France, ILCV 1.391; on Constantine's reform of the cult of the second Flavians; CIL 8.24521 and Aurelius Victor Caes. 40.28 (ed. Pichlmayr 191 I, 124); Clover 1982; Chastagnol and Duval 1974· 25. CIL 8.450 and 8.10516; ILCV 1.391; Council of Elvira, c.s6, 58 (Mansi 2:15). 26. Weber 1958, 271: "If the general term 'fortune' covers ail the 'good' of honor, power, possession, and pleasure, it is the most general formula for the service of legitimation, which religion has to accomplish for the external and the inner interests of ail ruling men. . .. In short, religion provides the theodicy of good fortune for those that are fortunate." See also Gordon 1990b, 235-8. 27. On sacrifice and euergetism, Gordon 1990c. 28. Hodot 1982, with important corrections in BE 1983.323. 29· North 1990. 3o. On the importance of family ties in the priestly colleges in Rome, Haeperen 2002; Schumacher 1978, 773-7; for family and provincial priesthoods of the imperial cult in the West; Fishwick 1987-,3.2:39-40,88-9; 173; 190,232-3,298; in Asia Minor; Campanile 1994, II6-53; 165-'7· 31. Hodot 1982. 32. For Asia Minor; Hayward 1998, 124-5; Bremen 1996, 96-II3. 33. Vermaseren 1977-82, 3.140, nos. 444-5 and 4.1-4, no. 2. 34· See Sailer 1984; idem 1997, 26-7, 31-2.
23 2
NOTES TO PP.
23-26
35. Most famously derided by Amminaus Marcellinus 27.II (ed. Seyfarth 1978, 2.54-5); more clinically; PLRE 1:736-40; Novak 1980; Lizzi 2004,298-305,316-19. 36. Claudian, Pan. Proh. et Olyh. cos. 31-54, 156 (ed. Barrie-Hall 1985, 2-3, 7). 37. Harmand 1957,188,202,285· 38. Ammianus disparaged Petronius as an "insidiator dirus": Ammianus Marcellinus 27.11.2 (ed. Seyfarth 1978, 2.54). 39. Saller 1982, 23, 26. 40. Roueche 1989, no. 5; and Bremen 1994. 41. Festus (ed. Lindsay 1930, 414): Gallus Aelius ait sacrum esse quocumque modo atque instituto civitatis consecratum sit, sive aedis sive ara sive signum sive locus sive pecunia, sive quid aliud quod dis dedicatum atque consecratum sit; quod autem privati suae religionis causa aliquid earum rerum deo dedicent, id pontifices Romanos non existimare sacrum. At si qua sacra private succepta sunt quae ex institutuo pontificum stato die aut certo loco facienda sit, ea sacra appellari tamquam sacrificium. 42. See also Gaius, Inst. 2.5 (FIRA 2:48); Ulpian, Dig. 1.8.9. pr.-l; Marcian, Dig. 1.8.6.3. On the distinction between consecratio and dedicatio; ThesCRA 3.303-46. 43. Ulpian, Dig. 1.8.9.1; Wissowa 1912, 467-8. 44. Gaius, Inst. 2.5 (FIRA 2:48). See also Wissowa 1912,473-9. 45. Dubourdieu and Scheid 2000,66-8 46. For the vagueness and ubiquity of the ritual act, the Greek situation is probably similar: ThesCRA 1.270-1. 47. See Fishwick 1987-, 3.3:299-303. On pro salute votives in the Near East; Moralee 2004; on votives from Roman-period Greece; Schorner 2003; on late antique silver votives; Naumann-Steckner 1996; on rural votives; Derks 1998, 220-31; for an expansive catalogue of types of dedicated objects, with no accompanying discussion of the act itself or its meaning, see ThesCRA 1.]27-450. 48. Marcian, Dig. 1.8.6.3; Cicero, Att. 12.19.1(ed. Bailey 1965-70, 5.96) (his island villa as quasi consecrata); Wissowa 1912, 387, 468-9, 477-8. "Religiosa" was almost wholly applied to matters involving graves: Cicero, Leg. 2.22 (ed. Du Mesnil 1879, 169-174); Gaius, Inst. 2.6 (FIRA 2:48); Festus (ed. Lindsay 1930, 382-3). 49. IDR 3.2:108 . 50. On the distinction, ThesCRA 3.303-46. 51. Ulpian, Dig. 25.3.1.2; Bodel2008. Thanks to John Bodel for sharing his work prior to publication. 52. Festus (ed. Lindsay 1930, 179-80). 53. Ulpian, Dig. 1.8.9·Pr. 54. Paulus, Dig. 41.2.30.1; Ulpian, Dig. 1.8.9.5; Marcian, Dig. 1.8.6.4. 55· Dom. esp. 37-55 (ed. Nisbet 1939, 35-54). 56. Dom. 45, 53-8 (ed. Nisbet 1939, 44-5, 52-7); Att. 4.2.2-4 (ed. Bailey 1965-'70, 2.68-72). 57. Gaius, Inst. 2.7a (FIRA 2.48): Item quod in prouinciis non ex auctoritate populi Romani consecratum est, proprie sacrum non est, tamen pro sacro habetur. 58. Pliny, Bp. 10.50 (ed. Mynor 1963, 315) 59. Bodel forthcoming. Thanks to John Bodel for sharing this piece prior to publication. 60. Tavern consecration: Froh1ich 1991, 264-5; Roman eques consecration: CIL 6.36787; Magna Mater consecrations: Vermaseren 1977-1982, 3.49, 51-2, 60-1, nos. 227, 2]2, 244. See also Cicero, Att. 12.18 (ed. Bailey 1965-70, 5.90) who wanted to "consecrate" (consecraho) a monument to his dead daughter Tullia in an
233
NOTES TO PP.
61.
62. 63. 64.
65. 66. 67.
68.
69.
70.
71. 72.
26-28
effort to deify her. On consecration of people, particularly emperors, see Bickerman 1972. All of this evidence modifies Wissowa 1912, 477 n. 6, who provides examples of the use of "consecrativit" by private individuals in which permission from the proper authorities seems to have been solicited. He claims this as proof that consecration was the sole province of the state. Ulpian, Dig. 1.8.9.2: Illud notandum est aliud esse sacrum locum, aliud sacrarium. Sacer locus est locus consecratus, sacrarium est locus, in quo sacra reponuntur, quod etiam in aedificio privato esse potest .... Cicero, Leg. 2.17 (ed. Du Mesnil 1879, 149-50); Dio Cassius 38.17 (Loeb, 3.234); Plutarch, Vit. Cic. 31 (Loeb, 7.162). See also Bodel2008. Cicero, Fam. 12.25.1 (ed. Bailey 1988, 442). Inscription: CIL 6. 266, esp. In. 17-18,27-8, with Mommsen's commentary. Other dedications on the site included CIL 6.267-8. See Musca 1970; De Robertis 1977; idem 1982; Galvao-Sobrinho forthcoming. Thanks to Carlos Galvao-Sobrinho for sharing his work prior to publication. See Frontinus, De controversiis (CAR 1.1:9); Agennius Urbicus (CAR 1.1:47-8). On agency and the creation of the sacred, Smith 2004, lO8-11. See Wissowa 1912, 161-83; Orr 1978, 1557-67; Schiller 1978, 415-22. The term "lararium," the actual shrine in which the Lares are worshipped, appears infrequently in ancient sources and only in the late empire, for example, SHA, Alex. Sev. 29.2; 31.4-5 (ed. Hohl 1927, 269, 270); CIL 9.2125. On the shrine statuettes of the Vesuvian cities; Orr 1978; Boyce 1937; Frohlich 1991, 30-1; for some in Rome, Guidobaldi 1986, 194-8; on the iconography of shrine paintings, Orr 1988, 296-7; Frohlich 1991; generally; ThesCRA 4.262-4. See also Bodel 2008. On the agathos-daimon, see PW Suppl. 3:48-58; Vetters 1978. Whether or not this deity was imagined as a snake is open to question: Quatember 2004; Thiil ed. 2005, 424-5. The only example is a mid second century snake image in Hanghaus 2 in Ephesus; Thiil ed. 2005, 114, 424-6. This room also contained two grave reliefs and thus seems to have been used for ancestor/hero cult. On the images ofHarpocrates; Nachtergael 1985. On Venus figurines in Gallic shrines; Miln 1877; Oelmann 1928; Lintz 1993; on bird deposits; Fabre, Forest and Kotarba 2000; Casas and Ruiz de Arbulo 1997. See, for instance, Manganaro 1994 (Sicily); Aurenhammer 2003 (Ephesus); Dawid 2003, 69-75 (Ephesus, ivory statuettes including possible imperial portraits, god and family portraits); Bassani 2005 (Hispania). However, even in cases were these objects are found in their respective houses it is almost never possible to differentiate the purely cultic from the merely decorative, a distinction the ancients seem to have had problems with as well: Neudecker 1988, 19-23 (collecting the instances in Cicero's Verrines in which Verres is said to have ransacked "cultic" statues from peoples homes and set them up as decoration in his own); and 3 1-9 (on statues of gods in homes of the high empire). Legal definition: Ulpian, Dig. 25.3.1.2; social definition: Cicero: Leg. 2.1 (ed. Du Mesnil 1879, 85-'7); Dom. 41 (ed. Nisbet 1939, 40-1). Legal and polemical attacks; CTh. 16.lO.12 (392); Jerome, Is. 16.57.7.8 (CCL 73A:646-7); on Ostia, Bakker 1994, 32-7: of the sixteen houses Bakker identifies as having possible shrines, seven are of fourth century date; for a Roman shrine offourth century date, see Guidobaldi 1986, 194-8,212; on Alexandria, Haas 1997, 205. See also evidence from Dura; Rostovtzeff et al. eds. 1933, 246; idem 1936, 119-28 (evidence largely from small finds); and North Mrica: Thebert 1987, 363-4.
234
NOTES TO PP.
28-32
73. On the forms of the shrines in Pompeii, Herculaneum and Ostia; Boyce I937; Orr I978, 1575-8; Bakker 1994, 8-17. 74. For the location of shrines in Pompeiian households, see Frohlich 1991, 28-9; for Ostia; Bakker 1994, 37; for North Mrican examples; Thebert 1987, 363-4. 75. On the Penates, Frohlich 1991, 38-40. 76. On the rituals of the household shrine; Orr 1978, 1557-75; on birthdays rituals; Argetsinger 1992. 77. Tibullus, Carm. 1.7.51-4 (ed. Luck 1988, 30): ... tibi dem turis honores, Liba et Mopsopio dulcia melle feram. 78. De die natali, 3.5-6 (ed. Sallmann 1983, 4): ... ego tamen duplici quotannis officio huiusce religionis adstringor; nam cum ex te tuaque arnicitia honorem dignitatem decus adque praesidium, cuncta denique vitae praernia recipiam ..... 79. On this see particularly Bomer and Herz 1981. 80. See Frohlich 1991, 28-33; Foss 1997. 81. Frohlich 1991, 30-3. Bodel 2008, suggests these shrines point to separate worship on the part of the household's various familiae, slave and free. 82. On these associations, Bomer and Herz 1981, 57-8; Frohlich 1991, 23-33. 83. Picard 1953,121-32· 84. Examples include CIL 2.1980 (Abdera, Spain); CIL 9.2996 (Anxanum, Italy); CIL 9.725 (Larinum, Italy); CIL 14.32 and 255 (Ostia). 85· Foss 1997,217-18. 86. Bodel 2008, who suggests a certain "dissonance" between the ideal integrated slavelfree familia of contemporary imagination, and the different kinds of familiae within real households. On slave and free familia within the household; Flory 1978. 87. On the relationships between civic and domestic cult, particularly the Lares compitales and cultores augustillarum; Frohlich 1991, 34; Gradel2002, 213-33. David Frankfurter goes further and suggests that that all communal shrines had their "satellites" in domestic shines: Frankfurter 1998, 139. On cult as model of and model for society, see Geertz 1973a. 88. On Augustus' reform of the Lares compitales, see Ovid, Fast. 5.129-46 (ed. Alton et al. 1988, 117-18); Suetonius, Aug. 31.4 (ed. Ihm 1962, 65); Wissowa 1912, 16773; on the shrines of Rome; LTUR 1:314-16; for Ostia; Bakker 1994, II8-33; for Pompeii; Boyce 1940. 89. On later Roman repairs to the Roman compital shrines; Panciera 1970, 131-58; Coarelli 1983, 265-70. The latest inscription is from 223 A.D. (CIL 6.30960); in the fourth-century Curiosum Urbis Romae (ed.Jordan 1874, 539-64), the vicomagistri responsible for these shrines are still attested. On Ostia; Bakker 1994, 127. See also Clarke 2003, 84. 90. Zanker 1988, 265-95, seems to characterize the adoption of Augustan ideas into the domestic sphere as being motivated by little more than a desire to ape one's betters. Elsner 1991, suggests more is at work. 91. Tacitus, Ann. 1.73 (ed. Heubner 1983, 43)· 92. Ovid, Pont 2.8; 4.9.105-34 (ed. Richmond 1990, 47-8, 102-3); Pliny, Ep. 10.70-1 (ed. Mynor 1963, 325-6). Pliny himself dedicated his own imperial statue collection to a newly built shrine: Ep. 10.8 (ed. Mynor 1963, 296). See also Letta 1978, esp. 14-19. On private rituals to the emperor, see Gradel 2002, 198-212; Price 1984, II9-2o; Santero 1983. 93. St. Clair 1996. See also an ivory statuette, tentatively identified as Gordian III (238-44 A.D.) from Hanghaus 2 in Ephesus; Dawid 2003,69-70.
235
NOTES TO PP.
32-35
94. On the divinity of the emperors under the Tetrarchy, see, for example, the panegyrics to Maximian, Pan. Lat. 10.13.3; II.2; II.3-4 (ed. Baehrens I9II, 273, 276-8), among many; on Diocletian, Aurelius Victor, Caes. 39 (ed. Pichlmayr I9II, II7-I8); Kolb 1987, 88; generally, Alfcildi 1970, esp. 213-57. 95. Saller and Shaw 1984; Shaw 1991; and now, most insistently, Rebillard 2003. 96. Contra Flower 1996, 208-10, who claims this was rare if nonexistent in the late republic. Evidence for a domestic cult of ancestors during the high empire can be found in cities of the East: Thiil ed. 2005, 424-6; Italy: Bodel 1997; Foss 1997, 200; and in villas: Bodel 1997; Meates ed. 1979,35-6. A problematic passage in the SHA, Alex. Sev. 29.2-5 (ed. Hohl 1927, 268--9) also describes ancestor portraits in a lararium. While Syme 1983, 214, is surely right to dismiss the passage as a fiction, it clearly assumes a readership that was accustomed to seeing ancestor portraits in household shrines. 97. On funerary associations; Hopkins 1983, 2II-I7; on the intersection ofJam ilia and collegia; Perry 1999, 55-6, 160-92. 98. Cicero, Leg. 2.22 (ed. Du Mesnil 1879, 169-74); Gaius, Inst. 2.6 (FIRA 2:48); Festus (ed. Lindsay 1930, 382-3). See also Visscher 1963; Wissowa 1912, 385-6. 99· Wesch-Klien 1993· 100. Scul1ard 1981, 74-6; PW Suppl 12:979-82; Fevrier 1977, for the important Christian adaptation of these holidays, which may also have had a domestic component. 1OI. On tomb architecture and its various evolutions in this period, Hesberg 1992, 42-5 I. I02. On source bias against the country, MacMul1en 1974, 28-56. 103. On the lustratio, Cato, Agr. 141 (ed. Mazzarino 1962, 87-8); on offering of the first fruits; Cicero, Leg. 2.12 (ed. Du Mesnil 1879, 130-1); Augustine, Bp. 46 (CSEL 34.2:123--9); for the notion that this practice might be Christianized; John Chrysostom, Hom. in Acta apost. 18 (PG 60:147). One of the best considerations of rural cult and its place on the villa is still Dolger 1950. I04. On the role of the vilicus, see from Hispania CIL 2.1980; near Trier, CIL 13.4228 (here termed a dannus); see also Cato, Agr. 142 (responsibility for maintaining feast days), 143 (restricting his role to the celebration of the Compitalia, or feast of the Lares compitales, and domestic rites) (ed. Mazzarino 1962, 89--90); Martial IO.92 (ed. Gilbert 1886, 351) (on the construction of altars); generally; Carlsen 1995,80-5; on the distinct role of the vilica: Cato, Agr. 143 (ed. Mazzarino 1962, 89); Roth 2004. I05. The phenomenon has never seen comprehensive study. Some regional analyses include for Gaul, Lafon 1989; Leday 1980, 193-4; Ferdiere 1988, 251-2; Cabuy 1991, 149-50; for Britain; Wilson 1973, 24-44; for Hispania; Bowes 2006; in Italy; Bodel 1997. For an example of the difficulties of distinguishing villa temples in the archaeological record, see Miron ed. 1994, with review by Schwinden 1995. 106. On Mayen, Oelmann 1928; Van Ossel 1992, 228-30. I07. On the controversial meaning of umgangstempeln, compare Fauduet I993b, who favors a pre-Roman origin for these temples, versus Derks 1998, 183-4, who claims the temples cannot be dated prior to the Roman period and are thus a local product of "Romanization. " 108. On figurines; Oelmann 1928 (Mayen); Derks 1998, II9; Miln 1877, 133-53 (Carnac); on altars; Fouet, 1984 (Valentine); Fouet 1969, 155-60 (Montmaurin); Goodburn 1979, 24 and 27 (Chedworth); other votives; Lutz 1972 (Saint-Ulrich); Gose 1932 (Otrang); for the use of these temples by both tenants and other neighbors; Pliny, Bp. 9.39 (ed. Mynor 1963, 289-90). 109. See discussion in Bowes 2006.
NOTES TO PP.
35-37
110. See Casas and Ruiz de Arbulo 1997, for some votive deposits near villas in northern Hispania. Siculus Flaccus, De conditionibus agrorum (CAR 1.1:104), advises the surveyor that ashes, broken pottery, and glass were frequently found at the edges of estates, possibly alluding to ritual detritus. I I I. See Bowes 2006. 112. Milreu: Hauschild 1993, 165-76; Valentine: Fouet 1984. 11 3. Specifically, in Gaul, the Rhine area, Centre, Belgium, and to a lesser extent, Normandy and Brittany. See Fauduet 1993a, 14 for maps of temple concentrations. 114. On the role of elites in rural temple complexes in late Roman Britain; Millett 1990, 195-6; Dark 2004,282-3; in Gaul; Woolfl998, 225---9; Derks 1998, 190-1,231-4; in Syria; Caseau 2004, 109-10; on periodic markets and temples in Gaul, Hispania and Italy; Ligt 1993, 117-18,250-2. 115. On periodic markets on estates, see Ligt 1993, 156---98, esp. 176-85; Nolle 1982. Morely persuasively argues that most large-scale trade of estate produce took place on the estate itself, as public nundinae were used only by small, peasant farmers: Morely 2000,220-1. 116. The Roman agronomists were in agreement on the necessity of keeping one's workforce on the estate: Cato, Agr. 142 (ed. Mazzarino 1962, 89); Varro, Rust. 1.16.5 (ed. Goetz 1912, 32); Columella, Rust. 11.1.23 (Loeb, 3.62-4); Palladius, De re rustica 1.6.2 (ed. Martin 2003, 8). 117· Bodel 1997. 118. Ausonius, De herediolo (ed. Green 1991,19-20); Sidonius Apollinaris, Carm. 22.1435 (ed. Mohr 1895, 333). 119. On ability of the estate to stand for the man, see Pliny, Bp. 6.10.1 (ed. Mynor 1963, 169-70); Seneca, Bp. 55.3-4 (ed. Reynolds 1965, 1.145); Bodel 1997. 120. Bowes 2006; Griesbach 2005; Chioffi 2003; idem 2005; Bodel 1997; Hesberg 1992, 50-I; Waurick 1973; Coarelli 1986, 47. On the provinces, Toynbee's classic work on Roman burial (1971) contains hundreds examples of villa-tombs. However, the formal focus of this and other similar studies obscures their villa context. 121. Cicero, Att. 12.19.1; 12.35--'7 (ed. Bailey 1965-7, 5.96, 129-32); Purcell 1987. On the evolution of the phenomenon in the later empire, Griesbach 2005. 122. The equestrian's inscriptions are CIL 6.32308 = ILS 1921, and CIL 6.1920; on the mausoleum in the villa of Ad duas lauros; Volpe 2003; for a similar example on the Via Tiburtina; Calci and Mari 2003, 195---9; generally; Gennaro and Griesbach 2003· 123. See Bowes 2006 for an overview. For Gaul; Bayard 1993; Lafon and Adam 1993; Martin-Kilcher 1993, 158-60; for Hispania during the high empire; Hesberg 1993, esp. 163. Heavily urbanized regions with strong traditions of suburban mausolea might have few villa monuments (Fiches 1993), while those with weaker urban traditions found in the villa a potent alternative site (Gebara and Pasqualini 1993). For the evidence from Britain, see Esmonde Cleary 2000; for some examples in the East; Hesberg 1992, 50. 124. On pre-Roman traditions; Lambot 1994; Metzler et al. 1991; on Newel and other villas mausolea in this region of Trier; Clippers and Neyses 1990; Clippers 1993; for Bierbach; Kolling 1968. Another compelling example of traditional and Roman habit is Biberist-Spitalhof Schucany 2000. 125. Sadaba: Garcia y Bellido 1963; Jumilla: Noguera Celdran ed. 1999,73-158. 126. See also Siculus Flaccus, De conditionibus agrorum (CAR 1.1:104), who notes that grave monuments were frequently to be found at the estate's boundaries. 127. For a text of the testament and its interpretation, see Le Bohec ed. 1991.
237
NOTES TO PP.
38-42
128. One of the newer histories of Roman religion makes every attempt not to partition off these cults, but integrates them into broader themes. See Beard, North, and Price 1998, 1.245--9. See also Hopkins 1999· 129. Beard, North, and Price 1998, 1.245. 130. The exception to these definitions were the cults ofIsis and Magna Mater, which had been officially admitted to the Roman civic pantheon sometime earlier and in the later case, had a temple in Rome's downtown. Despite this civic status both cults maintained initiatory rites and life-long specialized priesthoods, which set them apart from mainstream civic cult. On Magna Mater: Livy, 29.IO.4-11.8; Isis: Inscr. Ital. 13.2, 243. 131. See Visscher 1955; Carolsfeld 1933, 236-58. 132. Dio Cassius 53.2.4; 54.6.6 (Loeb, 6.196, 296) (on Augustus' expulsion of the Egyptian cults from inside the Pomerium). See also Beard, North, and Price 1998, 1.269-70, on cultic topography through the late empire. 133. On the Caelian Magna Mater site; Vermaseren 1977-82, 3.40-3, nos. 20713; Pavolini 1990; idem 2006, 68-92; on the mithreum beneath S. Clemente; Guidobaldi 1992; on the Dura mithraeum; Rostovtzeffl937, 62-134. Even less easily defined groups like the so-called "god-fearers" met in private homes: Mitchell 1999, 92-3· On the adaptation of homes for cult purposes generally, see White 1990; idem 1997. On the neighborhoods served by Mithraic temples; Bakker 1994, 204-5; on neighborhood shrines; Steuernagel 2001. 134. On the central role played by the home owners, see White 1990, passim and esp. 45-'7; Gager 1975, 99. See Steuernagel 2001, 52, for an interesting example from Trastevere of the Bona Dea cult. The epigraphic evidence for Publicius' role is CIL 6.641 and 30973b; Vermaseren 1977-82, 3.40-3, nos. 208, 2II, 212. 135. See now, however, David 2000. 136. Gordon 1990a; Beck 2006, 67-74. 137. On Mithras cult, Clauss 1992; Gordon 1972, ro8-9; Beck 1996, 178-9; on Plancia Magna of Perga, perpetual priestess of the Mother of the Gods, see Boatwright 1991, 250. See also generally Beaujeu 1964; Beard, North, and Price 1998, I. 291-312, esp. 300-1. 138. Beard, North, and Price 1998, 1.291-3; Turcan 1992, 122-4 (Isis); 56-'70 (Magna Mater); Beaujeu 1964, 74-5· 139. Steuernagel 2001, 54-6; Perry 1999, 160--92, on collegia generally, although he admits that kinship and collegia might overlap. 140. On modern sociologies of cultic membership, see Stark 1996, 13-21. 141. IGUR 1.160. See also Cumont 1933; Vogliano 1933. On the social composition of the group; Scheid 1986. The relief was found on a site which may have been the family's suburban villa: Vogliano 1933,217-18. 142. On the tauroboliumlcrioboiium, see Duthoy 1969, nos. 54/57, 68. 71; 74175; 78,83, I06, II9, 122; on priesthoods; Vermaseren 1977-82, 5. no. 182 and 3.140, no. 444 and 445; on the Aventine Dolichenum; Hi:irig and Schwertheim 1987, nos. 373, 375, 378; on Lambaesis; idem, nos. 621, 623, 624, 626. 143. Clauss 1992,297-9. 144. See Remus 1996. 145. Marco Sim6n 1997; Tudanca Casero 1997, 122-31. 146. Mackwiller: Hatt 1957; Sauer 1996, 22-3; Rockenhausen: Schwertheim 1974, 1747; Mundelsheim: Planck 1989; Mandelieu: Fixot 1990, 145--93 on the proposed mithraeum, although the authors admit that given the absence of a cult relief or other definitive evidence, the site may have been a cult to another deity. Similar
NOTES TO PP.
147.
148. 149. 150. 151. 152. 153. 154.
155.
156. 157.
158. 159.
160. 161. 162.
163. 164· 165.
42-45
estate mithraea have been found in the Asturias, another area that hosted army garrisons: Elvira Adin and Cid 2000; Jimenez Salvador and Martin-Bueno 1992. See also the evidence for vi/id, mostly from the imperial administration, dedicating Mithraic monuments in the Danube and elsewhere: Carlsen 1995, 83. As suggested by the three altars to Magna Mater and Attis (CIL 6.505, 506; Vermaseren 1977-82, 3.101-2, nos. 357--9) and one altar to Sol and Serapis (CIL 6.402), all dedicated by Orfitus during the term of his augury and all found near the church of San Sebastiano. Vermaseren 1977-82, 3.155, nos. 472-6. See Gordon 1972; Beard, North, and Price 1998, 1.287--91; Burkert 1987, 12-29. Turcan 1992, 22-'7, offers a more radicalized description. Apuleius, Met. 11.25 (ed. Helm 1955,286-7). Porphyry, De antr. nymph. 15-16 (ed. Nauck 1963, 66-8); Gordon 1980; Beck 2006, 41-64. Apuleius, Met. 11.19 11.22-3 (ed. Helm 1955, 280-1, 283-5); Turcan 1992, 119. Gordon 1972; idem 1994. On the Magna Mater priests, see Dionysius of Halicarnassos, Ant. Rom. 2.19.35 (Loeb, 1.364-6); on Isaic processions, Apuleius, Met. 11.9-1 I (ed. Helm 1955, 272-5); on Isaic temples, Malaise 1972,239-43. On the attraction of 'the foreign' in Roman cult, see Beard, North, and Price 1998, 1.278-84; on the problem of distinguishing "foreign" from "Roman"; idem, 303 and 338; Takacs 1995. Burkert 1987, 45-8; Price 2003. On Praetextatus' tomb; CIL 6.1779=ILS 1259. See also Bloch 1945, 204-5, although Bloch's notion of a "pro-pagan" intent behind this inscription has been proven wrong; Cameron 1999. Matthews 1973, 178-80, who nonetheless leaves intact an overblown distinction between Roman civic versus "Oriental" religiosity. On the public festivals of lsis; Inscr. Ital. 12.2, 243, and more generally, Tabcs 1995, 19-26 and passim; on the taurobolia; McLynn 1996. Matthews 1973, 178, is more skeptical. On the inclusion of cultic membership in public inscriptions mentioning public priesthoods; CIL 10.1585 (priestess of Ceres contributing to Dionysiac thiasos, third-century Puteoli); CIL 6.508 (presence of quindecimvir); CIL 6.402, 505, 506 (L. Cornelius Scipio Orfitus). See also Matthews 1973, 178 n. 22. The tendency to publicize one's many priestly offices, including those in unofficial cults, increases radically after the mid fourth century, but given its antecedents in the third century, it is not clear that this is solely the result of some kind of radicalized paganism, as was suggested by Bloch 1963. Beaujeu 1964. Millar 1973; Phillips 1991. Garnsey 1984, rightly notes that the infrequency of such strife did not translate into religious "tolerance" per se. Some collections of ritual texts include the Greek Magical Papyri (PGM) (translated in Betz 1992); Coptic Christian texts (translated in Meyer and Smith eds. 1994); lamellae (Kotansky 1994); aramaic inscriptions on bowls (Levene 2003). See particularly PGM 4.2374-440; 7.199-201; 7.150-4 (ed. Preisendanz 1973-4,1.146-8; 2.9,6). On the function of "magic" in society; Graf 1997; for an analysis of how these ritual texts "worked"; Janowitz 2002. Graf 1991. Smith 1995, 24-5·
239
NOTES TO PP.
45-47
166. Frankfurter 1997. 167. On superstitio's changing definitions, see Grodzynski 1974; for a list of the laws and court cases addressing magic from the late republic to the late empire; Massonneau 1934, 169-232; on the association of superstitio/magica accusations with political strife; North 1979; Kippenberg 1997; Beard, North, and Price 1998, 1.213-14· 168. On the Baccanalia, North 1979; Takics 2000; on bans of Isaic cult; Takics 1995, 160-1. On the persecutions against the Christians, Frend 1965, 312-14; 407, points to the Constitutio Antoniniana's result of obligating all provincials, including Christians, to sacrifice to the emperor, while Selinger 2002, 13, adds that the "traditionalism" oflater third century emperors urged them to take this obligation seriously. On magic controversies of the mid fourth century; Trombley 1993, 1.49-50,56-7. 169. Frankfurter 2005. 170. Levi-Strauss 1966; Gordon 1997, 67; Philiips 1991. 171. On antiquity, see Tacitus, Hist. 5.5 (ed. Wellesley 1989, 2.170) (on Judaism's antiquity); Plutarch, Mor. Amat. 756B (Loeb, 9.346) (on the value of traditional acts); on foreignness; Tacitus, Hist. 4.54 (ed. Wellesley 1989, 2.151) (on the Druids); 4.81.1 (on the cult of Sarap is) (ed. Wellesley 1989, 2.165); Grodzynski 1974. 172. See Brown 1970, 21-2. See Beard, North, and Price 1998, 1.92-6 for a similar explanation of the Bacchic suppression and 1. 160-I on Isaic controversy. 173. See particularly Kippenberg 1997; Klauck 1995, 63-4· 174. Kippenberg 1997, 152-3. 175. Apuleius, Apol. 42.3 and 44. (ed. Hunink 1997, 65-7)· 176. Apol. 47.3-5 (ed. Hunink 1997, 68-9): Magiaista, quantum ego audio, res estlegibus delegata ... igitur et occulta non minus quam tetra et horribilis, plerumque noctibus uigilata et tenebris abstrusa et arbitris solitaria et carminibus murmurata, cui non modo seruorum, uerum etiam liberorum pauci adhibentur. Et tu quindecim seruos uis interfuisse? Nubtiaene iliae fuerunt an aliud celebratum officium an conuiuium tempestiuum? XV serui sacrum magicum participant, quasi XV viri sacris faciundis creati? (trans. Butler 1909). 177. See also Apol. 27; 30; 62 (ed. Hunink 1997, 55-8,78-9). 178. For example, PGM 1.70; 4.2470; (rooftop); 2.14, 21, 4I(bedroom); 3.616; 13.680; 12.37 (solitary place) (ed. Preisendanz 1973-4, 1.6; 148; 20; 22; 58; 2.II8; 59). See also Graf 1991, 195-6; Smith 1995, 25-6. On nighttime; Winkler 1991, 224-5· 179. CTh 9.16.2 (trans. Pharr 1969): Haruspices et sacerdotes et eos, qui huic ritui adsolent ministrare, ad privatam domum prohibemus accedere vel sub praetextu amicitiae limen alterius ingredi, poena contra eos proposita, si contempserint legem. Qui vero id vobis existimatis conducere, adite aras publicas adque delubra et consuetudinis vestrae celebrate sollemnia: nec enim prohibemus praeteritae usurpationis officia lib era luce tractari. See also CTh 9.16.1 For Constantine's prohibitions against private divination and augury; Maurice 1927; on Augustus' similar edicts; Dio Cassius, 56.25.5 (Loeb, 7.56) on Tiberius; Tacitus, Ann. 2.32 (ed. Heubner 1983,62-3); Suetonius, Tib. 63 (ed. Ihm 1958, 146). 180. Kippenberg 1997; Trombley 1993, 1.56--'7, for the later period, supported by Amrnianus Marcellinus 29.2.28-31 (ed. Seyfarth 1978, 2.I09-ro). 181. Freyburger 2002. 182. Persius, Sat. 2.8-14 (ed. Clausen 1992, 9): 'Mens bona, fama, fides,' haec clare et ut audiat hospes; ilia sibi introrsum et sub linga murmurat: '0 si ebulliat patruus, praeclarum funus! ... pupiliumue utinam, quem proximus heres inpello, expungam ... ' (trans. Loeb). See also Martial 1.39 (ed. Gilbert 1886, 25); Horace,
NOTES TO PP.
47-50
Ep. I.I6.57-62 (ed. Klingner 1970, 266); Seneca, Ep. 10.5 (ed. Reynolds 1965, 1. 2 3). 183. On women and magic; Janowitz 2001,86-96; Winkler 1991, esp. 233; Weber 1968,
489· 184. On the idealized equation offemale with domestic; Wallace-Hadrill 1996, 106-7; on isolation as an important conceptual component as a cultic "category"; Staples 1998. 185. The visibility of women through their public euergetism, see Bremen 1996; Boatwright 1991. On the critical importance of domesticity to the creation of Augustan ideology, see Milnor 2005. 186. Minucius Felix, Octavius 10.2 (CSEL 2:14): cur etenim occultare et abscondere ... cum honesta semper publico gaudeant, scelera secreta sint? 187. Contra Kippenberg 1997. 188. White 1990; Maier 1991; Bobertz 1993. A recent overview of the subject addresses the historiography and its problems: Kirner 2002; idem 2003. 189· Osiek and Balch 1997, 33, 97-9. 190. Bobertz 1988. 191. On the wealth and standing of Christian community members; Eck 1971; idem 1979; Meeks 1983, 51-73; Stark 1996, 29-47; for Rome specifically; Lampe 2003, 90-150. 192. On this 'balancing act' already in the Pauline period, see Malherbe 1983, 60-91; Meeks 1983, 74-IIO. For the financial arrangements of these churches and its implications, see Chapter 2. 193. The history of the house church, often called the domus ecclesiae, is long and convoluted. Early theorists (Lemaire 19II; Lowrie 1947, 105-28; Dix 1945, 16-27) attempted to find the origins of the Christian basilica in the rooms of the Roman houses. Krautheimer's work on the archaeological evidence of Rome replaced much of this work (Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett 1937-77; Krautheimer 1980; idem 1986). His was the first to suggest that clear physical modifications to private homes only seems to appear in the third century, findings bolstered by the discovery of the Dura Europos church. The most recent reassessment of the problem is L.M. White's synthesis (White 1990; idem 1997). Other important contributions include Apollonj-Ghetti 1978; Duval 1978; Brenk 2003; Maier 2005. I have avoided the term "domus ecclesiae" here, as it appears nowhere in the pre-Nicene literature and is largely a modern invention. Thanks to Tina Sessa for clarifying points on this issue. 194. White 1997 provides a catalogue and summary of most of the corpus of proposed domus ecclesiae, although the details and analyses are not always correct. On Dura Europos; Hopkins 1934; Baur 1934; Kraeling 1967. 195. White 1990,24-5 and passim. 196. For the evidence, see Hopkins 1934, 28-9, 24-5; on upper-story living in the Roman near east; Hirschfeld 1995. 197. The bibliography is vast and has been radically revised in recent years. See Bradshaw 1999; Bradshaw et al. eds. 2002, 118-43; and McGowan 1999,18-27, for historiographic summaries and the state of the question. While it still seems likely that Christian eucharistic liturgies grew out of a banquet tradition, this was only one of their sources and even these were highly diverse. See Smith 2003. By the third century, there existed a number of named events, such as agape, eucharistia, and cena Dominica. Most scholars accept that the eucharistia was a separate ritual by this time, although other communal meals may have continued without eucharistic elements.
NOTES TO PP.
198.
199. 200.
201. 202.
203. 204. 205. 206. 207. 208.
209. 210. 21 I. 212.
213.
214.
50-53
See White 1998. However, sources like the Didache and the Apostolic Tradition do not draw clear, unambiguous lines between the eucharistic ritual and other meal-based activities, and they furthermore suggest that all kinds of meals had strong ritual elements. See McGowan 1999, passim. Thus, while a separate ritual was certainly developing in the third century, it seems increasingly clear that it was neither clearly separate from other kinds of meal rituals, nor uniform. See Trad. Apost. 27-9A (ed. Bradshaw et al. 2002, 144-52). The patron is prohibited from giving out the "benedictio," while guests are urged to accept from him an "oblatio." Bobertz 1993, 179 and 180 n. 32, interprets both as the food at the dinner. See also Didasc. Apost. 9-10 (SC 248:174-82), and Riggs 1995. On Christian meals and the eucharist, see now McGowan 1999; idem 2005. Maier 2005· For a survey of the various sources for and theories regarding this development, see Jay 1981; Schollgen 1988. For the important distinction between a monarchical episcopate and a mono episcopate, see Schollgen 1986. On the growth of Christian leadership and its social and theological implications, see now Rousseau 2002, 88-121. See among many Gager 1975, 69-75; Draper 1995; Brent 1995. On women's role; Torjesen 1993. Ignantius, Ad Magn. 6.1; Ad Bph. 3-4; Ad Phil. Preface; Ad Smyrn. 8.1-2 (SC IObis: 98, 70-2, 140, 162), on which see Rousseau 2002,90. See also Gryson 1973; Lampe 2003, 381-96. On Rome, the work ofBrent 1995, has created considerable controversy: c.f. Simonetti 1996. Bobertz 1988; Stewart-Sykes 2002; Schollgen 1988; Dassmann 1994. Stewart-Sykes 2002, 126-30; on progression through a clerical cursus as a prerequist for office; Faivre 1977; idem 1984. Suggested by Lampe 2003, 402-8. Brent 1999. For other theories, Jay 1981,161-2. On these developments; Molland 1954; Bovini 1949, 161-3; Patout Burns 1993; idem 2002. Cyprian, Bp. 49.2 (CCL 3B:235-6): ... unum deum dominum omnipotentem, unum quoque Christum esse dominum quem confessi sumus, unum spiritum sanctum, unum episcopum in catholica esse debere. On Novatian; Vogt 1968, 17-56; on Paul ofSamosata and his "group"; Millar 1971; on Felicissimus; Cyprian, Bp. 41, 43,59 (CCL 3B:196-8, 200-10; CCL 3C:336-73). Brent 1995. Bovini 1949, 161-2; Markus 1980, 9-12. On orthopraxy and its impact of Jewish private life; Sanders 1992, 190-2; on the changes to household life in post-diaspora Judaism; Barclay 1997, 69-72. On the various functions and origins of the collective synagogue, see the survey of the various theories in Gruen 2002, 105-23. Prayer; Mishnah Ber. 1.1-3; Josephus, A] 4.212 (Loeb, 4.576). Philo describes the same morning and evening prayers as practiced only by the ascetic Egyptian Therapeutae: Vita Contemplativa 27 (Loeb, 9.126-8), although obscure reference to private prayer also appears in Philo, V. Mos. 2.214 (Loeb, 6.554-6). See also Leonhardt 2001, 124-7; Sanders 1992, 196-7. Prayer at mealtimes; Mishnah Ber. 6.5-7. On lamp lighting; Josephus, Ap. 2.282-3 (Loeb, 404-6); Seneca, Bp. 95.47 (ed. Reynolds 1965, 2.394); Mishnah Shabb. 2; on prayer over wine; Mishnah Ber. 6.5, 8. Other sources are collected in McKay 2001, 89-131; Goldenberg 1979. For women's role in these rituals; Archer 1983, 283-4.
242
NOTES TO PP.
53-55
215· For some examples; Hirschfeld 1995, 29-31, 52-5, 59-61, 92-4; Meyers 2003; on the ritual and its frequency; Sanders 1992, 222-9. 216. I Thess 5:17; I Tim 2:8. See also Eph 6:18. 217. Tertullian, Or. (CCL I: 257-74). Origen, De oratione (ed. Koetschau 1899,2.297403); Cyprian, Dom. Orat. (CCL 3A:90-113); Trad. Apost. 35.1 and 41 (ed. Bradshaw et al, 2002, 178, 194-202). See also Bradshaw 1981, 47-71. 218. Tertullian, Or. 24-5 (CCL 1:272-3); for prayer before meals in the Apostolic Tradition; Trad. Apost. 29A, 36 (ed. Bradshaw et al. 2002, 152, 180) and Bradshaw 1981, 557. The Apostolic Tradition also includes a prayer at midnight. On the contested authorship, date and source tradition of the Apostolic Tradition, see Brent 1995; Metzger 1992; Bradshaw et al. eds. 2002, 1-16. 219. Tertullian is chiefly concerned with the Lord's Prayer, while the Apostolic Tradition's more demanding regime includes daily readings. 220. Cyprian, Dom. Orat. 8 (CCL 3A: 93): Publica est nobis et communis oratio, et quando oramus, non pro uno sed pro populo toto rogamus, quia totus populus unum sumus. 221. Mt 6.6 and more generally Mt 6.5-9. The call for private prayer is set in opposition to the "hypocrites" who pray publicly, that is, the private is lauded as an escape from a mainstream Jewish public. 222. Origen, De oratione 31.4 (ed. Koetschau 1899,2.397-8). This should not be thought to constitute an "oratory" as Bradshaw 1981, 59, suggests. 223. Or. 1.4 (CCL 1:257-8): Consideremus itaque ... inprimis de praecepto secrete adorandi, quo et fidem hominis exigebat, ut Dei omnipotentis et conspectum et auditum sub tectis et in abditum etiam adesse confideret. . .. Tertullian is referring to Mt 6.6. 224. On the cubiculum as associated with secrecy; Riggsby 1997; Sessa 2007. 225. Origen, De oratione 31.4 (ed. Koetschau 1899, 2.397-8). 226. Trad. Apost. 41. I 1-2 (ed. Bradshaw et al. 2002, 198). 227. Allison 1997; Berry 1997· 228. Origen, De oratione 31.4 (ed. Koetschau 1899,2.398). 229. In general, Dix 1945, 87; Taft 1978; Gamber 1983. The term lucernarium only appears in later sources. 230. On the collective ritual: Trad. Apost. 29C (ed. Bradshaw et al. 2002, 156); Tertullian, Apol. 39.18 (CCL 1:152-3); on the domestic ritual; Tertullian, Cor. 3.4 (CCL 2.I043). See also Dolger 1936, 26-8. 231. Cyprian, Dom. Orat. 35 (CCL 3A:II2): ... oramus et petimus ut super nos lux denuo veniat .... For comparisons with later lamp-lighting prayers; Dolger 1936, 29-3 1. 232. Nilsson 1960; Dolger 1936, 1-8; Mitchell 1999, 81--91. 233. Dolger 1936, 6-7; Nilsson 1945· 234. On the reserved sacrament, see DACL 3.2: 2437-40, 2457-62; DACL 14.2: 23859; Freestone 1917; Dix 1942, 1-25; King 1964, Ch. 1-8; NuBbaum 1979; Wagner 1993· 235. Tertullian, Or. 19.2-4 (CCL 1:267-8): Ergo deuotum Deo obsequium eucharistia resoluit an magis Deo obligat? Nonne sollemnior erit statio tua, si et ad aram Dei steteris? Accepto corpore Domini et reseruato utrumque saluum est, et participatio sacrificii et exsecutio officii. Trans. Evans 1953. 236. Justin Martyr, Apol. 1.67 (PTS 38:129); Novatian, De spectaculis 5.4-5.5 (CCL 4: 173-4)· 237. Justin Martyr, Apol. 1.67 (PTS 38:129).
243
NOTES TO PP.
55-56
238. On the viaticum, see Freestone 1917, 3-15. Dix rightly noted that the scholarly emphasis on this practice as the only purpose of the reserved eucharist is erroneous: Dix 1942, 15-16. 239. Tertullian, Ux. 2.5.2 (CCL 1:389); Cor. 3.3 (CCL 2:1043). Trad. Apost. 36-8A (ed. Bradshaw et al. 2002, 180-4). 240. Dix 1942, 5-6. 241. Didasc. Apost. 9-10 (SC 248:174-82). The text does not specify who is to preside over the meal and its blessings, although Riggs 1995, claims it must be the bishop. The Apostolic Tradition includes three discussions of meals, whose original order and meaning is hotly disputed: Trad. Apost. 27-9A; 29C; 36-8A (ed. Bradshaw et al 2002, 144-52, 156, 180-4). The first consists of rules of be havi or at a cena Dominica given by a patron for invited guests, at which bishops/presbyters mayor may not be present and at which a benedictio was handed out. The second is presided over by bishops and presbyters and includes eucharistic prayers. The third seems to refer to everyday meals in the private home. For commentary, see Stewart-Sykes 2001; Bradshaw et al. eds. 2002. On sections 27--<)A specifically, see Bobertz 1993. 242. Trad. Apost. 37-8A (ed. and trans. Bradshaw et al. 2002, 182, 184). The original Greek has not been preserved except in fragments; the Latin text, which is the language of the earliest preserved manuscript (fifth century), reads (ed. Dix and Chadwick 1986, 58-9): Ornnis autem fidelis festinet, antequam aliquid aliut gustet, eucharistiam percipere ... ornnis autem festinet ut non infidelis gustet de eucharistia aut ne sorix aut animal aliud aut ne quid cadeat et pereat de eo. Corpus enim est Chri edendum credentibus et non conternnendum. [Calicem] in nomine enim Di benedicens accepisti quasi antitypum sanguinis Chri. Quapropter nolito effundere ut non sps alienus uelut te conternnente illut delingat .... 243. See Trad. Apol. 29C (ed. Bradshaw et al. 2002, 156). For this interpretation, see Stewart-Sykes 2001, 138-41. Other possible, albeit confusing, references to similar practices include Cyprian, Ep. 63.16 (CCL 3C:412-13) and a later, possible fifth-century text attributed to the pseudo-Athanasius: De virginitate, 12-13 (PG 28:265A-268B). For more on the attribution to the pseudo-Athanasius, see Regnault 1972, xvi and 107-48. 244. McGowan 1999; idem 2005. 245. For general considerations of the issue, see Brown 1988, 33-82; Clark 1995; idem 1999; Barclay 1997, 72-8; Uro 1997; Osiek and Balch 1997, 101-55; Jacobs 1999. For similar conflicts in Jewish writings; see Barton 1997; in "Gnosticsm"; Gilhus 1997· 246. See Mt 4.18-22=Mk 1.16-20=Lk 5.I-II; and Lk 14.26, respectively. See also Mt 10.34-9; Mt 12.46--<)=Lk 8.19-21; Mt 22.30. 247. Pass. Perp. 5-6 (ed. Beek 1936, 14-17); Perkins 1995, 104-23. 248. See Col 3. I 8-4. I, elaborated by likening the bonds of family to that of church in Eph 5.21. Themes similar to those in Colossians are echoed in Titus 2.1-10 and, specifically on the treatment of widows and the elderly, in I Tim 4-5.20,6.1-2. On the role offamily in these epistles, see Meeks 1983, 75-7; Verner 1983; MacDonald 1988, 102-22; Osiek and Balch 1997, II8-23; on their reception by later patristic writers; Clark 1999, 353-'70. 249. Clem. 1.3; Clement of Alexandria, Str. 3.15.96-'7 (ed. Stahlin 1960, 240-1), which deals primarily with I Cor 7.9 rather than the post-Pauline epistles. See also Polycarp, Ep. 4.3-3; Novatian, De bono pudicitiae 5 (CCL 4:II7). 250. In general, see Cooper 1996; Clark 1999.
244
NOTES TO PP. 57-62
251. Cooper 1996, 45-67; Jacobs 1999. Konstan 1998, on the other hand, emphasizes
the instances in the Acts in which the apostle displays sympathy for familial and romantic bonds. 252. Brown 1988, 124-5, 131-3, on Gnosticism and Clement's position on families. 253. See, for instance, on the rhetorical image of the oikos building; Vielhauer 1940; the familia; Allmen 1981; family hierarchies; Dassmann 1994. 254. See especially Tertullian, Or. 19.2-4 (CCL 1.267-8); Origen, De oratione (ed. Koetschau 1899, 2.297-403). 255. Novatian, De spectaculis 5.4-5.5 (CCL 4:173-4). 256. Trad. Apost. 37 (ed. Bradshaw et al. 2002, 182). 257. Tertullian, Ux. 2.5.2 (CCL 1:389). 258. Trad. Apost. 37 (ed. Bradshaw et al. 2002, 182). 259. Cyprian, Laps. 26 (CCL 3:235). 260. Riggs 1997, 278. 261. On purity and divine punishment in Cyprian's writings; Patout Burns 2002, 133-7. 262. On purity concerns in third-century Christianity; Patout Burns 2002, 132-50; in late antique Christianity more generally; Penn 2005, 91-I03; Rouwhorst 2000, esp. 189-90; on its possible origins in Jewish law; Sandt 2002. 263. For the epistemological problems inherent in such comparisons, Smith 1990. 264. White 1990; Maier 1991; Theissen 1992; Meeks 1983; Stark 1996. 265. On sameness and difference in the comparison of Christianity and paganism, see Smith 1990.
CHAPTER 2. TWO CHRISTIAN CAPITALS: PRIVATE WORSHIP IN ROME AND CONSTANTINOPLE 1. For the date and construction of the Laurentian basilica: LP, 1.181-2; Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett 1937-77, 2. II5-36. I remain unconvinced by Geertman's attempts to re-date the basilica to the early fifth century: Geertman 2002. 2. As it did somewhat later to Prudentius, Peri. 2.485-536 (CSEL 61:313-15). 3. Vita Melaniae, 5 (SC 90:134-6). 4. On Melania's family: PLRE I: I 142. On her maternal grandfather, Ceionius Rufius Albinus: PLRE I :37-8; for his knowledge of ancient rituals; Macrobius, Sat. 1.7.345 (ed. Willis 1963, 33-4); on her father, Pubicola; PLRE 1.753; pagan worship on his estates; Augustine, Ep. 46-7 (CSEL 34.2:123-36).
5. The domestic relic shrine is the so-called conJessio beneath Ss. Giovanni e Paolo: Brenk 1995 and see below. The mansion of ascetics was that of Albina and Marcella: Jerome, Ep. 127.3 (CSEL 56:147-8) and see below notes 159-160. 6. Marucchi 1902; Van Millingen 1912; Kirsch 1918; Caspar 1930-3, 1.I03-65; Deichmann 1948, 37-8; Geanakopolos 1966; Frend 1984, 501-5, 553-91. Some of Krautheimer's studies made similar assumptions, e.g. Krautheimer 1980, 18 on the tituli. 7. Rome: Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett 1937--'77; Pietri 1976; Krautheimer 1980, 3-58; idem 1983, 7-68; idem 1993; Reekmans 1989; Saxer 1989; Guidobaldi 1993; Curran 2000; Brandenburg 2004; Constantinople: Mathews 1971; Dagron 1974; Miiller-Wiener 1977. 8. Paraphrased from Krautheimer 1983. 9. In Rome, the central role of private cult has been the subject of recent attention: Lizzi 2004, 55-125; Rebillard 2003.
245
NOTES TO PP.
63-65
10. Deichmann 1948; Krautheimer 1980, 3-31; Caspar 1930-3,103-30. Pietri 1976 is an exception. On the continuities between Maxentius and Constantine's reigns, see now Curran 2000. I!. The term is Frend's (1984, 473). For new critique of this "revolution," see Rousseau 2002, 187-234, esp. 187--90. 12. On the Easter controversy see Eusebius, Hist. Bed. 5.24.14, 5.15, 5.20 (ed. Schwartz and Mommsen 1999, 494-6, 458, 480-4); on Justin's group; AetaJustini 15 (AASS Iunii I :20B); on Hippolytus' group; Brent 1995, passim. Hippolytus disparagingly terms Callistus' church a "school": Hippolytus, Rif. 9.12.20 (ed. Wendland 1916, 249). On diversity more generally, see Lampe 2003, 381-97; Perrin 2000, 63 1 -4. 13. On the heterogeneous qualities of second- and third-century Roman Christianity; Piana 1925; Jeffers 1991; Lampe 2003,358-408. 14. On the mono episcopate in Rome, Brent's recent study (1995) has been hotly debated: e.g. Simonetti 1996. 15. Brent 1995; c.f. Perrin 2000,649-56. 16. On Novatian, Vogt 1968. 17. Cyprian, Bp. 49 (CCL 3B:231-7). 18. Patout Burns 1993, 397-401. 19. Eusebius records that those who celebrated Easter on different days (the Quartodecimans) were, at least for a time, purposefully included in the broader Roman communion: Eusebius, Hist. Bed. 5.24.14-15 (ed. Schwartz and Mommsen 1999, 494-6). 20. Bovini 1949. 21. On the catacombs; Fiocchi Nicolai, Bisconti, and Mazzoleni 1998, 17-24; on Callistus; Hippolytus, Rif. 9.12.14 (ed. Wendland 1916, 248); on the church charity efforts in the mid third century; Eusebius, Hist. Bed. 6.43.11 (ed. Schwartz and Mommsen 1999, 618). 22. For ownership and the catacomb's names; Fiocchi Nicolai, Bisconti, and Mazzoleni 1998,22-3; on private homes used for Christian worship; Minucius Felix, Octavius 8.4,9.1, 10.2-4; AetaJustini 15 (AASS Iunii 1:20B); Justin Martyr, Dial. 41.3 (PTS 4T I 3 8). Constantine and Licinius' edict of 3 12 distinguishes between the properties owned by the church collectively before the persecutions, and those held privately: Lactantius, De mort. pers. 48 (CSEL 27.2:232); Eusebius, Hist. Bed. IO.5 (ed. Schwartz and Mommsen 1999, 886). 23. Lactantius, De mort. pers. 48 (CSEL 27.2:232); Eusebius, Hist. Bed. 10.5 (ed. Schwartz and Mommsen 1999, 886). 24. LP I, 170. 25. Lactantius, De mort. pers. 48 (CSEL 27.2:232); LP I, 182ln. 2, on the religiosafemina Cyriaea, whose property was seized during the persecutions by the fisc, and then given by Constantine to the church of the martyr Lawrence. 26. As claimed by Barnes 1993, 179. 27. Pietri 1976, 1.77--90, seconded and elaborated now by Lizzi 2004, 93-I05. 28. For instance, the Novatianists had their own churches; CTh 16.5.2 (326). The rigorists opposed to Damasus were led by their own bishop; Marcellinus et Faustinus Presbyteri, De eonJessione verae fidei et ostentatione sacrae communionis (hereafter Libel/us Precum), 84, 104 (CCL 69:380,385). 29. The most complete and influential treatment is Kirsch 1918, passim and 1-3 for the definition. Pietri 1978, 8 documents the successive elaborations ofKirsch's theory and the subsequent "inflation d'hypothese."
NOTES TO PP.
65-68
30. On the date and composition of the Uber Pontificalis, Duchesne 1886, 1.xxxiii-cclix. As a historical source, see now Geertman 2001-2. On the first appearance of the term titulus in the fourth century; Pietri 1976, 1.92; idem, 1978. The Uber Pontificalis terms the donations to the Sylvester/Equitus foundation a "titulus" (LP I, 170, 187), butthese documents do not appear in the book's first edition: Duchesne 1886, 1. I 88. A 377 A.D. epitaph mentioning the "Lector tituli fasciole" (I CUR [n.s.] 2.4815) and the "titulus" of Damasus (366-84) (LP I, 212) are the earliest reliable references. On the absence of archaeological evidence for pre-Nicene house churches beneath modern titular churches; Apollonj-Ghetti 1978; Duval 1978; Krautheimer 1980, 336. Two new studies have also questioned the private nature of tituli's endowments and the aristocratic origin of their names: Hillner 2007; idem 2006. Many thanks to the author for sharing these articles prior to their publication. 31. Already noted by Pietri 1976,1.93-4; idem 1989, I04I, 1054. p. On the Uber Pontificalis; LP I, 126 In. 3; I, 164 In. 3; church councils; MGH (AA) 12:4IO-I5, for the council of 499; on the Gesta martryum; Epitome vitae S. Marcellini, 3 (AASS Ian. 2:369, 373), where the pious matrona Lucina dedicates a titulus in her house to the martyred bishop Marcellus (308--9), who was accustomed to holding mass there. 33. LP 1,216; Innocent I, Ep. 25.5.8 (PL 20:556B-557). On the rite ofthejermentum generally, see Nautin 1982. 34. For some discussion of this process, see the study on the Gesta martyrum in Sessa 2003· 35. Examined in more detail by Hillner 2007, to whom I am much indebted, although our conclusions differ. 36. See Lewis and Short 1993, 1875; on the use of the term in Roman property law; Gradenwitz et al. 1894--9, I06I-2. See also Hillner 2006; idem 2007. 37. ICUR (n.s.) 5.13122; ICUR (n.s.) 2.4815, respectively. 38. LP I, 170-1, 187 (Sylvester/Equitus), 212-13 (Damasus), 22Q-2 (Vestina). 39. On the official creation of the church as corporate entity and its ability to hold property; Lactantius, De mort. pers. 48 (CSEL 27:231-3); on the pI edict which permitted the Church to receive inheritances; CTh 16.2.4 (pI). 40. LP I, 170 In. 6. 41. This was the meaning emphasized by Pietri 1976, 1.95--6, 50-571, although his conclusions regarding the control of these donations is problematic: Hillner 2007. 42. Hillner 2007. 43. LP I, 212 In. IO. 44. LP 1,220 In. 6-9. 45. See, for instance, Accorsi 2002, for a review of the arguments surrounding the titulus SylvestrilEquiti. Guidobaldi 200I-2, IQ-II; idem 2000, 124, suggests that tituli are often described as donated property, but nonetheless returns to the idea of titulus as place. 46. Noted by Guidobaldi 2001-2, 5, whose conclusions differ from my own. 47. See Guidobaldi 2001-2. 48. LP 1,220 In. 5; Council of 499 (MGH [AA] I2:4II). 49. LP 1,235; ILCV 1.1143· 50. Pietri was of the opinion that tituli were privately endowed, tutela-type foundations: Pietri 1976, 1.90-6, 569-73; idem 1978. Pietri's conclusions relied heavily on his reading of the later fifth- and sixth-century evidence surrounding the Laurentian Schism: Pietri 1966; idem 198 I. For a careful reconsideration of his ideas, see Hillner 2007.
247
NOTES TO PP.
68-70
SI. Contra Hillner 2007. On cleric donors, Hillner 2006. 52. For Constantine, LP I, 170-87; Krautheimer 1993; Kinney 2002, 3; for Vestina, LP 1,220, where it seems clear that the properties placed in titulus by the bishop, on her
53. 54.
55. 56.
57.
orders, were properties clustered around the church and thus specifically donated by her, not pulled out of the general church patrimony. On the foundation ofValila recorded in the Charta Cornutiana; LP I, cxlvi-cxlviii; for other examples of the earmarking of donation for specific use; De Francesco 2003. On clerical donors, see Hillner 2006. On the presbyters of the titulus Pudentianae, the inscriptions bearing their names are collected in Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett 1937-77, 3.279-80. On Phillipus of the titulus Apostolorum; ICUR 2.1, 110, no. 64-8; Mansi 4:1303, where Phillipus is named as "presbyter ecclesiae apostolorum." On Ursicinus, Leopardus and Livianus; LP 1,220-2. Council of 502 (MGH [AA].12:450). A notion generally seconded by Lizzi 2004, 102, who notes: "Nel corso di un secolo e mezzo dalla ufficializzazione del cristianesimo, il vescovo di Roma non aveva ancora acquisito il totale controllo suI proprio clero." The great majority of tituli, most of which appear first only in the 499 and 501 Roman council records, do not appear in the Liber Pontificalis at all, while those that do are limited to bishop-donors, or donors who explicitly made use of episcopal agents to do their bidding. Given the oft-noted episcopal bias in the LP, it is not too great of a leap to assume that the dozens of tituli it omits were founded without episcopal agency by private donors or groups of donors who placed into the general church treasury property assigned specifically to their foundations. For clerical/episcopal bias in the Liber Pontificalis; Noble 1985; Deliyannis 1997; Cooper
2000,3 04. 58. See above, notes 13 and 28. 59. On "Alexio lectori de Fullonices," ICUR (n.s.) 4:11798. Cecchelli has claimed that this community was in fact the titulus Chrysogoni: Cecchelli 1999, 238. On the lector de Belabru; ICUR I, 388-90, no. 878; LTUR 5·108-9; Pietri 1989, 1062. On the
60. 61. 62.
63.
64.
65.
clustering of burials by neighborhood in various catacombs, the evidence is collected in Pietri 1989, 1051-2. See also Kirsch 1918, 204-8, although his claim that the neighborhood tituli actually managed these cemeteries has been largely dismissed. For burial communities more generally, Yassin 2002; idem 2005; Rebillard 2003. Damasus: ICUR 2.1, 134-5, nos. 5-7; 151, no. 23 (inscriptions from the titulus Damasi recorded in the Verdun and Lorsch syllogm). See particularly Geertman 1986, 82-3. Lizzi 2004, 108. On the middling-wealth of these fourth-century aristocrats, see Hillner 2006. In this respect, the spectacular conversion and wealth-renunciation of Melania the Younger and Pinianus in the early years of the fifth century may mark a real sea-change. On euergetism in Aquileia and other northern Italian towns; Caillet 1993, 465; on the "1' extreme discretion" of Aquilian euergetes of the fourth century; Sotinel 2005, 65-109, esp. 103. Emphasized even more emphatically by Lizzi 2004, 102: "In uno sguardo retrospettivo, dovremmo dedurne che per due secoli la vigilanza aristocratica era stata esercitata con assoluta libertiL" Hippolytus, Rif. 9.11-12 (ed. Wendland 1916, 245-51); Quaegesta sunt inter Liberium et Felicem episcopos (CSEL 35.1:1-4); Libellus precum (CCL 69:361-92).
NOTES TO PP. 70-72
66. Guidobaldi 2000, I25; Pietri 1989. Reekmans 1989, 871-2, projects this pattern back earlier and ascribes it to episcopal agency. 67. For chronology, see Pietri 1989, 1039. I place the tituli AemeliaelFour Martyrs and Busebii somewhat earlier than Pietri, owing to possible evidence for them in the Dep. Martyr. (LP I, I2) and the Martyr. Hier. 19 Kal. Sept. (AASS Nov. 2:106), respectively. Additionally, the foundations of GaiilSancta Susanna and that of Cyriacus, both tenuously attested in the fifth century, were lOom apart on the Quirinal. The several instances in which titular churches seem to bear two names may reflect two foundations built so near one another that they eventually merged replaced one another. This may have been the case at the titular (?) basilica of Iulius built just near or over that of Callistus, and the titulus of Sylvester also called Equitus. For the basilicaltitulus IulilCallisti; LP I, 141,205; Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett 1937-77, 68; on the titulus BquitilSylvestri; LP I, 170, 187. The arguments are reviewed in Accorsi 2002. For the transience of tituli generally; Cecchelli 1985, 299-3 03. 68. Pietri 1989, 1042-3. 69. CTh 16.2.20 (370); alluded to inJerome, Bp. 52.6 (CSEL 54:425-6). See also CTh 16.2.22 (372), further extending the rule to cover bishops and virgins. 70. Lizzi 2004, 109-12. 71. Lizzi 2004, II2. 72. Jerome, Bp. 146 (CSEL 56:308-I2); Prat 1912; Pietri 1976, 1.708. 73. LP I, 216; Innocent I, Bp. 1.5 (PL 20:556-7); Saxer 1989, 928. 74. Innocent I, Bp. 1.5 (PL 20:557): ... ut se a nostra communione, maxime ilia die, non judicent separatos. 75. Lizzi 2004, 108-9. For a more radical suggestion of the episcopate's attempts to enforce liturgical unity, see Geertman 1986. 76. Long noted by Krautheimer 1980, 30, although he ascribed this particular geography to the emperor's unwillingness to provoke Rome's pagan majority. More recently, he seems to have viewed it as a result of the private nature of Cons tantine's projects, which were largely restricted to imperial land holdings outside the city: Krautheimer 1993· 77. The following analysis has relied on a recent reassessment of intramural churches and their dating by Margherita Cecchelli and her team; Cecchelli 1999; idem ed. 2001. 78. LP I, 1]2, 141, 164. Contra Geertman, who suggests that the Lateran basilica and San Sebastiano on the Via Appia were begun under bishop Miltiades with the support of the emperor Maxentius: Geertman 1986, 79-80. 79. LP I, 170 and 187, 202, 205, 208, respectively. It is worth noting that these more architecturally specific terms appear somewhat more frequently than the later "titulus," tentatively suggesting that basilica building may have actually preceded the creation of the titular endowment systems: Guidobaldi 2000, 123-4. OnJulius' basilica in Trastevere; Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett 1937-77, 3.121-3; for another "basilica Iulia iuxta Forum clivi Traiani"; LP I, 205 In. 4. Geertman 1986, identifies this church with the later basilica apostolorum, current Santi Apostoli and suggests the structure was a monumental basilica. On Mark's "basilica"; Cecchelli 1999; idem ed. 2001, 298-302, replacing Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett 1937-77, 2. 244-6; on the basilica Lucinae; Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett 1937-77, 2.173-83; Cecchelli ed. 2001, 288-90. New dating evidence may have placed the basilica in the mid fourth century, not early fifth as had previously been supposed; Brandt 2004,
249
NOTES TO PP.
80.
81.
82. 83.
84.
85. 86. 87.
88. 89.
90.
72-74
19-22. Krautheimer had identified a similar structure of similar date at S. Crisogono and identified it as the titulus sancti Chrysogoni, but new excavations have tentatively reassigned it to the early fifth century: Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett 1937-77, 1.146-59; Cecchelli ed. 2001, 224-31. On the basilica Liberii; Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett 1937-'77, 3.54, c.f. Cecchelli ed. 2001, 308-1 I. These are Sta. Pudentiana: Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett 1937-'77, 3.299-300; Guidobaldi 2002; Cecchelli ed. 2001, 343-4; San Clemente: Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett 1937-77, 1.131-4; Cecchelli ed. 2001, 232-7; Guidobaldi 1992,276; Santa Anastasia: Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett 1937-'77, 1.47-60; Cecchelli ed. 2001, 212-14; San Lorenzo in Damaso: Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett 1937-'77,2.145-51; Guidobaldi 1989, 388; Krautheimer 1995; Cecchelli ed. 2001, 278- 81. San Vitale: Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett 1937-77, 4.327-3 I; San Sisto Vecchio: Cecchelli ed. 2001, 359-62; Geertman and Annis 2004; Ss. Giovanni e Paolo: Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett 1937-77, I.300-I; contra Cecchelli ed. 2001, 26871; Santa Sabina: Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett I937-77, 4.94-8; Cecchelli ed. 2001, 353-5; San Crisogono: Cecchelli I999; idem ed. 200I, 242-6; San Pietro in Vincoli: Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett I937-77, 3.228; Bartolozzi Casti 2002. On the role played by Valentinian I in the church-building of the 430-440's, see Gillett 2001, I45--6, esp. n. 53-4. On the date ofSta. Maria Maggiore; Saxer 200I, 56-8; on its function; Pietri I976, I.509-5I; Saxer 2001, I09-46. Geertman I986, posits an earlier period of episcopal basilica building in the first quarter of the fourth century, including the basilica Iulia iuxta Forum divi Traiani and the basilica Liberii on the Esquiline. Not only are the form of these structures wholly unknown, but his assessment of their liturgical importance in the early fourth century relies heavily upon the early sixth-century Wurtzburg capitulary. While Geertman's analysis fails to completely convince, the function and role of these buildings remains an important question. Cecchelli has additionally claimed that Sixtus' reign saw the end of new titulus construction in the wake of more energetic episcopal, versus lay, euergetism: Cecchelli 1985· Quaegesta sunt inter Liberium et Felicem episcopos, 9 (CSEL 35.1:3). As suggested by Athanasius, Apol. contra Arianos 20 (PG 25B:28I). Pietri I976, I. II6, and Krautheimer I980, I8 have both suggested this solution. Guidobaldi 1993, 76, explains the lacuna by judging that Roman Christians simply never modified their houses for Christian use, as did the Christians of Dura Europos. Given the size of the Christian population, the relative sophistication of their liturgies and the duration that many of these house-centers were likely used, I find this unconvmcmg. Guidobaldi 1989; idem 1993, 77-9; idem I999, 65; idem 2000, I27-8. Even the Sistine building spree would not totally alter what was now a severalcenturies-old topography of house-based worship. The domestic aulae at Santa Susanna and Quattro Coronati were replaced by basilicas only in the Carolingian period, while at Santa Cecelia, Santa Pressede, San Eusebio, and Santa Prisca, Carolingian-period basilicas sat directly over Roman houses. In some cases the church site may have shifted in the early Middle Ages and an earlier church may lie undetected nearby. In others, the houses themselves may have continued to serve church functions through the eighth century, although again, the idea cannot be proven archaeologically. See Pietri 1976, 1.77-90, 558-69.
NOTES TO PP.
75-78
91. Pace and demographics of conversion in Rome; Salzman 2002,77-83, 97-I06; new senatorial aristocracy; Matthews 1975, 1-31; Chastagnol 1992, 224-44; Heather 1998; Salzman 2002, 19-68; currency trade and wealth; Banaji 2001. 92. On late antique houses in Rome; Guidobaldi 1986; idem 1999; Baldini Lippolis 2002, 262--'76; Hillner 2003. 93. Rome: Guidobaldi 1986, 223""'9; idem 1993, 71-3; Ostia: Pavolini 1986, 252-69, 274· 94. Audience halls; Guidobaldi 1986, 206-9; baths; Guidobaldi 1986, 214-15; public inscriptions in private houses; Niquet 2000, 26-33. 95. Wallace-Hadrill2003· 96. Baldini Lippolis 2002,69-72 and generally, Ellis 1991, 122-3. 97. Colini 1944,164-95. It should be noted, however, that only a small portion of this house has been excavated; the larger, grander part lies to the north unexcavated. 98. Dix 1945, 303-96; Jungmann 1959, 95-I08, 278-87; Taft 1986, esp. 3 I. 99· Jerome, Bp. 22.17, 37; 38·4; 54·11; 127.9 (CSEL 54:164-6; 201-2, 291-2, 478; CSEL 56:152). IOO. Jerome, Bp. 22:37; 107·9 (CSEL 54:201-2; CSEL 55:300); c.f. Tertullian, Or. 24-5 (CCL 1:272-3); Origen, De oratione (ed. Koetschau 1899, 2.297-403); Trad. Apost. 29A, 36 (ed. Bradshaw et al. 2002, 152, 180). 101. Jerome, Bp. 71.6 (CSEL 55:6-7). Also Bp. 49 (48).15 (CSEL 54:377). I02. Trad. Apost. 36-8A (ed. Bradshaw et al. 2002, 180-4); Justin Martyr, Apol. 1.67 (PTS 38:129); Novatian, De spectaculis 5.5·4-5 (CCL 4:173-4). I03. John Rufus, Vita Petri Iberi, 31 (ed. Raabe 1895, 36); Vita Melaniae Iunioris, Latin version, 62 (ed. Rampolla 1905, 36). For the problems with its authorship; Laurence 2002, 117-21; for the pro-Roman bias in this version of the life; Clark 1984, 22. I04. Dix 1945, 592; Chavasse 1986, 9; Taft 1997, 94. Bishop Siricius, Bp. I.7.IO (PL 13: I I 39) however, advised Himerius of Tarragon a that priests should offer sacrifices everyday, although it is unclear if he was describing the experience of Roman priests or merely stressing the desirability of remaining continually chaste for the holy office. I05· In times of danger; Arnbrose, Bxc. 43 (CSEL 73:2)2-3); Vita Budociae 12.44, 13 (AASS. Mart.I.I9F, 2IB); in sickness; Justin Martyr, Apol. 1.67 (PTS 38:129); Gregory Nazianzen, Or. 8.17-18 (SC 405:282-6); on the reserved eucharist generally; NuBbaum 1979; Wagner 1993· 106. Arcae; Cyprian, Laps. 26 (CCL 3:235-6); pyxides; Volbach 1976, I03-21, esp. I03 on general provenance; on evidence for Roman ivory workshops; St. Clair 2003. 107. As noted by St. Clair 1977, 2-3· I08. Taft 1978; Gamber 1983. I09. See Chapter I. lIO. Jerome, Bp. 107.9 (CSEL 55:300); Prudentius, eath. 5 (Hymus ad incensum lucernae) (CSEL 6 1:25-3 I). Prudentius' hyrrms are believed to have been originally composed principally for private or small-group use: Charlet 1982, 86-7. See also Arnbrose, Psal. 1187·31,8·45 (CSEL 62:145,178); and Psal. 36.65 (CCL 64:123-4), who also seems to assume a private context for the ritual. See also Chapter 4, for Macrina's lamp-lighting ritual. 11 I. Vita Melaniae Iunioris, 5 (SC 90: 134-6); Paulinus Mediolanensis, Vita Ambrosii IO (ed. Kaniecka 1928, 48); Libel/us precum 78-80 (CCL 69:378""'9), respectively. 112. Cerrito 2002 lists the archaeological and textual evidence, and provides a careful assessment of the problems. Earlier excavations confidentially described a variety of sites as "oratori cristiani" that had no clear evidence of Christian function:
25 1
NOTES TO PP. 78-83
Gatti 1901; De Rossi 1876. The identification of numerous similar "oratories" in Aquileia, all of which are probably dining or reception rooms, seemed to provide easy comparanda and perpetuated the problem: Bovini 1972, 383-439, but see now Holden 2002. Other sites are clearly Christian, but lack the surrounding context, domestic or otherwise, to speak to their private function; for instance the so-called oratory near the Baths of Diocletian (now destroyed), or the oratory near Santa Prisca. See Cerrito 2002, 416, 404, for descriptions and further bibliography. II3. Vita Melaniae, 5 (SC 90:134-6). II4. Gatti 1902; Guidobaldi 1986, 186-8; LTUR 2.207. 115. "Petibi et accipti votum sol[vi]." Brenk 1999, 83 and passim; idem 2003, II3-21. On silver services in late antiquity general, see Leader-Newby 2004. II6. Hillner 2003, 140-3 is rightly skeptical of Melania and Pinianus' residency in the Caelian domus. Lega 2003, has recently revealed that Valerian pedigree of the silver collection and even the content of the treasure itself was largely wishful thinking by first De Rossi (1868) and later Colini (1944). The collection found on the Caelian can only be said to have included the inscribed cup, the two ampollae with busts of the apostles, and a plate depicting a boar hunt (not present in Colini's photo of the" collection"). I 17. On votives in public space, pagan and Christian, see Moralee 2004. II8. "Dominus legem dat Valerio Severo Eutropi vivas." Santi Bartoli 1691, II; Bovini 1950, fig. 5. II9. PLRE 1.837. 120. Huskinson 1982, 58. 121. On Damasus the "matronarum auriscalpius," Quae gesta sunt inter Liberium et Felicem episcopos IQ (CSEL 35.1:4). The idea here, as Peter Brown has kindly pointed out to me, is that just as the auriscalpius purges the ears of excess wax, Damasus removed matrons' excess wealth. 122. Cf. Spera 1994. 123. Jerome, Bp. 127.3 (CSEL 56:147-8). 124. Bp. 54.1 I (CSEL 54:478). On Exuperius, who was not at that time a priest, PCBE (Italie), 730. 125. The householders' right to nominate clergy is implicit in CTh 16.2.33 (398) and 5.3.1 (434); John Chrysostom, Hom. in Acta apost. 18.5 (PG 60:147-8). The right is made explicit in NJ 57.2 (537) and 123.18 (546). See also Thomas 1987,25--9. 126. For instance, Jerome, Bp. 22.28; 52.6, 15 (CSEL 54:185-6, 425-6, 438-9). Jerome himself received some gifts from his gaggle of female patrons: Bp. 3 I; 44 (CSEL 54:249-5 1,322-3). 127. Paulinus Mediolanensis, Vita Ambrosii IQ (ed. Kaniecka 1928, 48). 128. On Ambrose' "marginal" aristocratic status, McLynn 1994, 31-3. 129. On prohibitions against episcopaljourneys outside their diocese and extra-diocesan liturgies; Council of Laodicea (343-81) C.14 (Mansi 2:566); Council of Serdica (343), C3 (Mansi 3:23). See also Hess 1958, 80-2. 130. On Ambrose and Damasus' relationship, McLynn 1994, 276--90. 131. Jerome, Bp. 49 (48).15 (CSEL 54:377)· 132. Zeno, Tract. 2·7.14-16 (CCL 22:174-'75). 133. See Scrinari 1987; idem 1989; idem 1991, 3-52; LTUR 2.127; 3.58-9. Scrinari additionally locates the seat of the statio patrimoni here, but this seems unlikely: LTUR 4.352-3. 134. Revealed by recent restorations, but not mentioned in the excavation reports; see now Cerrito 2004. On the identification of the hortus, Liverani 1988, 893--9.
NOTES TO PP.
83-86
135. Scrinari 1987; idem 1989; idem 1995, 215-41; Brenk 2003, 121-8. The plans of the complex published by Scrinari seem to be mistaken in many details, most particularly in the presence of an apse, which on-site inspection suggested may simply be rubble beneath a medieval limekiln. The altar described by the excavator could also not be found. Some corrections have been published by Cerrito 2004. 136. Paintings seemingly covered all the extant walls. The large panels depicting images of Ss. Crescentia, Modestus and Vitus, and Christ crowning two standing women seem to be later, perhaps fifth or sixth century. The latter panel was identified by the excavator as depicting the emperor Valentinian III and Eudoxia, although both figures are clearly female. 137. "Genovius servuslsanctorum ser/vit in eodem loco." Scrinari 1995, 224. . 138. Brenk 2003,121-5; Cerrito 2002, 410-11. 139. Scrinari (1989, 2213) claims the site was the seat of the statio patrimoni based on a second-century fistula bearing its seal and a statue base found above the Christian meeting place, dedicated to Eudoxia by a libertus praepositus ad res privatas. The evidence of the water pipe is ambiguous as the fistulae inscriptions refer not to a physical office, but the institution itself (see LTUR 4:352-3) and the statue-base is out-of-situ. 140. On the absence of a Lateran episcopal palace in this period, Pietri 1976, 1.5-7. 14I. That it was not an imperial invention is illustrated by the slightly earlier (351-4) translation of the martyr Babylas at Daphne. On relic translation generally, see Hunt 1981; Mango 1990; Clarke 200I. 142. Helena; Rufinus of Aquileia, Hist. Bcd. ro.7-8 (ed. Schwartz and Mommsen 1999, 969--'70); Constantius II and the date of the translationes; Mango 1990; Woods 199I. There is also a tradition which ascribes the translations to Constantine, but it is less well supported: Woods 1991; Elsner 2000. 143. Optatus, De schismate donastistarum, I.16 (CSEL 26:18-19); Augustine, Bp. ad cath. 25.73 (CSEL 52:319); also idem, C. lift. Petil. 2.ro8.247 (CSEL 52:159-60). 144. On Melania the Elder and Paulinus of Nola; Paulinus of No la, Bp. 32.7-8 (CSEL 29:282-3); on Basil and Gregory's Forty Martyr relics; Gregory ofNyssa, Mart. (PG 46:784); idem, V Macr. 24 (SC 178:252); idem, Bp. 20 (PG 46:ro81C); Gaudentius, Tract. 17.14-38 (CSEL 68:144-51); VanDam2003a, 139-43; on Rufinus; Callinicus, Vita Hypatii, 8.1-7 (SC 17T96-roo); Claudian, In Rufinum, 2.446-53 (ed. BarrieHall 1985, 48); Pargoire 1899; Matthews 1975, 134; on relic-errands; Paulinus of Nola, Bp. 31 (CSEL 29:267--'75). 145. Avitus and Orosius; PL 41:805-18; Torres Rodriguez 1985, 21-4; Altaner 1968; on estate churches; Augustine, De civ. D. 22.8 (CSEL 40.2:595-612). 146. Delahaye 1930, 11-13· 147. Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett 1937--'77; I. 165-95; Colli 1996; Argentini and Ricciardi 1996-7; Cecchelli 1999, 241-5I. 148. Colli 1996; Palladino 1996. 149. On the blocking of the exterior arcades, Cecchelli 1999, 247. 150. Location of the relics; Argentini and Ricciardi 1996-97, 279-80; De Blaauw 1997, 67. Oddly, the early descriptions of the church and its relic do not mention the empress Helena, who within fifty years of her death was credited with the discovery of cross and the initiation of its cult in Constantinople. For a solution, see De Blaauw 1997,62-3· 15I. Colli 1996,780; Argentini and Ricciardi 1996-97. 152. For the donations; LP I, 179-80; on the font and the liturgies; Cecchelli 1999, 241-43·
253
NOTES TO PP. 86-89
153. 154. 155· 156. 157. 158. 159.
160. 161. 162.
163.
164.
165.
166.
167. 168.
On titular baptisteries, see Cecchelli 1999; Cosentino 2002. De Blaauw 1997, 70. Chron. min. 12.69 (MGH [AA] 9:324). On the possible size of the imperial palace, Guidobaldi 1998. Argentini and Ricciardi 1996-7,281-6. Cf. Krautheimer 1986, 50; Guidobaldi 2004. The identification of the house-church began with Germano di Stanislao 1907, and was elaborated by Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett 1937-'77, 1.284-5, 302; Colini 1944,180-1. All other subsequent studies of the architecture and paintings repeat this claim. Brenk 1995. For an overview of the debates, Pavolini 2006, 29-41. For an overview; Colini 1944; Meneghini and Santangeli Valenzani 2004, 151-5; Pavolini 2006. The best description of the houses remains Krautheimer, Corbett, and Frankl 1937-77,1.276-83. On the frescoes, see Mielsch 1978. A new study of the fresco sequences in the shops, based on recent restorations, is expected shortly. See Krautheimer, Frankl, and Corbett 1937-77, 1.282-96. For the date of the stairway, see Colini 1944, 176-77 and Heres 1982, 291. The identification of the hall as a Christian meeting space was based both on the subsequent construction of a Christian church over the site, and the putative identification of Christian imagery in the frescos of the converted shop complex. These frescos have subsequently been shown to contain no definitively Christian signification: see Brenk 1995. On the date, see Krautheimer, Frankl, and Corbett 1937-'77, 1.300 on the brickwork; and Mielsch 1978, 196-7, on the frescos in the shrine. There is no evidence that this stair was ever rebuilt, contra Krautheimer, Frankl, and Corbett 1937-77, 296. See also Brenk 1995. For the observation that this niche, which is now a small, window-like hole, was originally a niche with a closed back, see Brenk 1995, 191. Confirmed by the author in an on-site inspection. On the frescos, see Colini 1944, 180-1; Wilpert 1916, 637-42, esp. 641, n. 4, was cautious in identifying the martyrdom scenes. Saints John and Paul were said to be two Christian court officials, slain along with their companions Crispus, Crispinianus, and Benedicta, under the Emperor Julian. The sixth-century passio states that John and Paul were buried in their palace on the Caelian Hill. However, the passio is almost certainly a complete fabrication, as it seems to be a 'Romanization' of the earlier easternpassio ofJoventius and Maximinus, while the Crispus/Crispianus/Benedicta part only appears in certain manuscripts and may be a later addition. For the passio; AASS, lun. 7:140-1; on its veracity; AASS Nov. 2.2:336, where it is listed as a "fabula," written to explain the origins of the later basilica; on John and Paul's afterlife in Rome and southern Italian monasteries; Leyser 2007. On the donors, Brenk 1995, 191. Brenk 1995, 188, 205. Apollonj Ghetti 1978, 493-502, claimed that the shrine was not connected with the house below, but built in conjunction with the cult site above which was independent of the house. However, as Brenk noted, the stair which had previously connected the ground and second floors was cut by the insertion of the Christian shrine. Furthermore, the shrine could not have projected above the floor of the meeting hall, as has been suggested, as the frescoed frame indicates its top at more or less the preserved height. Thus, whatever the function of the second floor, it was now separated from the domus, with its shrine, below.
254
NOTES TO PP.
89-93
169. On the beginnings of intramural burial in Rome, Meneghini and Santangeli Valenzani 1995, 288. 170. For the identification of the mensa before this painting as a pagan altar, see Brenk 1995, 176. Polzer 1986, similarly suggests that the painting's obscure iconography points to a domestic shrine. 171. Brenk would date the painting to the later third or early fourth century, based on some brickwork beneath a contiguous piece of fresco in an adjacent room. See Brenk 1995, 176 and Heres 1982, 93. Most other assessments suggest a mid thirdcentury date: Pavolini 2006, 40. The fresco was eventually covered with whitewash, but it is not clear when: Mielsch 1978, 159. 172. On pagan shrine topography, see Chapter 1. 173. c.f. Herrin 2005, on the origins of Byzantine icon corners, altho~gh as the example of Ss. Giovanni e Paolo suggests, the journey from lararium to icon corner was a bumpy and discontinuous one. 174. This structure has been identified as a basilica built into a late antique domus: Gobbi 1998. The absence of any liturgical furnishings and the odd architectural format has led at least one scholar to dismiss this identification and claim that the building continued to serve as a domus: Brenk 2003, 41-4. The inscription in question was placed over the entrance to a nympheum and read: "In [christogram] geon fison tigris euphrata/ti cri[stJiarorum sumite fontes." The reading of the 'ti' fragment has endangered much debate. One scholar (Calza 1939-40, 71) has read it as a lapidary error, while another has read it as an abbreviation for "Tigrinianorum" (Burzachechi 1957-59). While Burzachechi identified these Tigriniani with a heretical group (for which there is no independent evidence), Brenk (2003, 41-4) has suggested they might be simply an Ostian family, a member of which would eventually join the church as a presbyter and be named in two church building projects on or near the Via Latina in Rome: PCBE (Italie), 2.2202. The problem is complicated by the presence of a column inscribed "Volusiani v[iri] c~arissimi]," identified as Volusianus Lampadius, urban prefect of 365, whose presence in Ostia may be attested in other inscriptions: Lizzi 2004, 71-4. 175. Sotinel2002 provides an exhaustive study of this church and the following discussion relies heavily on her findings. See also Delehaye 1912, 348. 176. On the domus Pinciana, LTUR 2.156-7. The house seems to have passed into imperial hands after 4IO, and it may have been the residence of general Belisarius during the Gothic Wars. 177· PLRE 1:732-3· 178. While no precise evidence connects Paulinus to Petronius or his wife, the web of relationships surrounding both people make it almost certain the aristocratic couple would have known and perhaps even patronized Paulinus. Trout 1999, 389, lays out the connections. If Shanzer (1986; idem 1994), is correct, Proba is the authoress of the Cento, a work well-known to Paulinus. However, see Matthews 1992. 179. On Paulinus' projects at Nola, see Chapter 3. 180. On Paulinus' attempts to "sell" Felix to his friends; Trout 1993; idem 1999,160-218. 181. Paulinus of No la, Ep. 31; 32.7-8 (CSEL 29:267-75,282-3). 182. LP I, 220 In. 5. 183. On Ambrose' promotion of Gervasius and Protasius, see McLynn 1994, 209-19; 284· 184. By century's end Ambrose had sent them to Rouen, Tours, Vienne, and the hinterland around Hippo, as well as sites around Italy: Victricius ofRouen, De laude
255
NOTES TO PP.
I85. I86. I87. I88. I89. I90. I9I. I92. I93. I94.
I 95.
I96. I97· I98. I99. 200. 20I. 202.
203.
204.
205. 206. 207.
93-96
sanctorum 6 (CCL 64:78); Augustine, De civ. D. 22.8 (CSEL 40.2:603); Gaudentius, Tract. I7.I2 (CSEL 68:I44). See also Dassmann I976. Paulinus of Nola, Bp. 32.I7 (CSEL 29.I:29I-3). Augustine, De civ. D. 22.8 (CSEL 40.2:603). On Leopardus' extraordinary career, PCBE (Italie) I293-4. Delahaye I930, 9-IO, has also suggested that Vestina's new titu/us contained Gervasius and Protasius' relics. Krautheimer I980, II2-I4. Costambeys 200I; McColloh I980. See above note I44. Delehaye I9I2, 96-8. Her many epistolary correspondents are listed in PLRE 2.35I-2. As described in LP I, 238 In I-2, and an inscription found on the site, ILCV I.I765, reproduced in Krautheimer, Frankl, and Corbett I937-77, 4.24I-2. The site was excavated in the I850's. The various and conflicting excavation reports left many matters unresolved and recent re-excavations have been hampered by heavy-handed restorations which rebuilt much of the site: Profili I858; Fortunati I859; Krautheimer, Frankl, and Corbett I937-77, 4.24I-53. For the most recent reexarnination of the site, see Sorrenti I996. Fiocchi Nicolai 2007, I08-I2, provides a careful analysis of these discoveries, although his conclusions differ substantially from my own. While its original function is unknown, the plan of this structure resembles the small temples or temple-tombs that dotted the Roman suburbium, often as part of villa complexes, as noted by Griesbach 2005, I20. For other examples of monumental tombs within villa complexes in the Roman suburbium, see Gennaro and Griesbach 2003; Calci and Mari 2003, I95-9, 202-4; Rea 2003, 25I. Unfortunately, the function of this area of the villa prior to its conversion into a church is wholly unclear, making it impossible to evaluate this possibility. See for instance Tsafrir ed. I993, 2I4, 294-302; Tsafrir 2003. Sorrenti I996, 263. Vanderlinden I946, I80. Published in Vanderlinden I946, I 96-7. LP I, 238 In. I-2; ILCV I.I765. On Tigrinus; PCBE (Italie), 2.2202; on the baptistery; Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett I937-77, 4. 249; Sorrenti I996, 263. Contra Fiocchi Nicolai I999, 454; idem 2007, I08-I2, who claims that the "public" location of the church in the villa's courtyard and presence of baptistery identify it as a parish church. Thefundus cella vinaria on the Via Appia, which may have been an Anician estate, was in church hands by the late sixth century. Whether or not the gift was associated with Santo Stefano is unknown. See De Francesco 2003, 527-<). CIL 6.I680. On Demetrias' relationship with Sextus Anicius Paulinus; PLRE I.679-80, II33; on the wall repairs; Krautheimer, Frankl and Corbett I937-'77, 4.25 I. Walls and doors visible in plan of Fortunati I859, now destroyed or buried. Fiocchi Nicolai I999, 454-5, who also assumes a strong episcopal role in its management. The new excavations and dendrochronology undertaken by Hugo Brandenburg have made the construction dates indisputable: the trees for the roof timbers seem to have been cut after 456, while two coins of Lib ius Severus (46I-5) were found
NOTES TO PP.
208. 209.
210.
211.
212. 213·
214. 215.
216. 217. 218. 219. 220. 221.
222. 223. 224.
225.
226. 227. 228.
96-98
in a foundation trench. See Brandenburg 2000, 37-41. For the consecration under Simplicius, LP 1,249. Brandenburg 1998, 10-1 I and passim; idem 2000. For a list of episcopal projects undertaken at San Lorenzo prior to this time, see Krautheimer, Frankl. and Corbett 193717, 2.6-9. For an assessment of the site as a demonstration of episcopal power, see Saghy 2000,285. Simplicius: LP I, 249. Simplicius' church seems to have been a new dedication of an earlier building and probably not the triconch structure typically associated with him: Serra 2002. Hilary: LP I, 245. The passage only appears in the B/C manuscript tradition and may be a scribal error or a later toponymic insertion, indicating that the praetorium andlor monastery was near to Simplicius' church: Duchesne 1886, 1.247; LTUR Suburium 3.210. The monastery is unambiguously described as dedicated to Stephen under Leo III (795-816): LP 2,23. Krautheimer 1969b, 70. See also LP I, 451 In. 20-1; 501 In. 16. Additionally, in 471 the Gothic general Valila built a church near Tivoli which may have also been dedicated to the Protomartyr: Fiocchi Nicholai 2007, 112. For ascetic practice in Rome during the fourth century, see Lorenz 1966, 3-9; Brown 1972a; idem 1972b; idem 1988, 366-86; Hunter 1987; idem 2003. The advisory relationship is described neatly in Bp. 45; see also Kelly 1975, 91103; for a detailed consideration of Jerome's Roman sojourn and his friendship networks; Rebenich 1990, 154-208. Rousseau 1978, 114-24; Clark 1992, 11-42. On his particular brand of epistolography, see Coming 2000. For instance, Jerome Bp. 22.16; 52 (CSEL 54:163-4, 413-41); on the scandal; Bp. 45 (CSEL 54:323-8); on Jerome's post-Rome anti-clericalism; Hunter 2003, 462-6. Cf. Brown 1972b, 225. Among many examples, see Jerome, Bp. 22.16; 43.2-3; 107.6, 9; 127.4; (CSEL 54:163-4,318-21; CSEL 55:300; CSEL 56:148-9). Jerome, Bp. 22.32; 107.9; 127.4; 128·4 (CSEL 54:193-5; CSEL 55:300; CSEL 56:148-9, 160). Jerome, Bp. 22.17; 24·3-4; 107.7; 128.4 (CSEL 54:164-6,215-16; CSEL 55:298; CSEL 56:160-1). Jerome, Bp. 22·37 (CSEL 54:201-2). Jerome, Bp. 54.13; 107.8, 11; 128·4 (CSEL 54:479-81; CSEL 55:299; CSEL 56: 160-1). Jerome, Bp. 22.25-6; 107.7 (CSEL 54:178-82; CSEL 55:298). For an expanded analysis on the moral qualities of the cubiculum, see Sessa 2007. On the relative newness of this exegesis of the Song of Songs and the older tradition which likened the cubiculum to the church's purity, see Hunter 1993, 54-6. Jerome, Bp. 22·37; 107·9 (CSEL 54:201-2; CSEL 55:300). Jerome, Bp. 22.17; 107.9 (CSEL 54:164-5; CSEL 55:300). Vita Melaniae 4-6 (SC 90:132-8). Proba: Augustine, Bp. 130.30 (CSEL 44:75-6); Albina and Marcella: Jerome, Bp. 47·3; 127.4-5 (CSEL 54:346; 56:148-50); Paula: Jerome, Bp. 108.3-6; 127.5 (CSEL 55:308-12; CSEL 56:149); Lea: Jerome, Bp. 23 (CSEL 54:211-14). Jerome, Bp. 127·8 (CSEL 56:151-2); Vita Melaniae 7 (SC 90:141). Contra Lorenz 1966, 6, there is no clear evidence that Lea and Marcellina did the same. Jerome, Bp. 45·7; 127.5 (CSEL 54:328; CSEL 56:149). Bp. 127.3 (CSEL 56:148).
257
NOTES TO PP.
98-101
229. The inclusion of servants is suggested by Jerome, Ep. 22.29; 130.13 (CSEL 54:187-8; CSEL 56:192); Augustine, Ep. 130.30 (CSEL 44:75-6). 230. Lorenz 1966, 8; Zelzer 1998, 24. Kelly 1975, 93, was more cautious. 231. On Albina's blood and spiritual "motherhood," Jerome Ep. 127 (CSEL 56: 14556); on her death, idem, Gal. praef. (CCL 77A:5). Asella, who mayor may not have been another daughter, may also have played a role: Jerome, Ep. 45.7 (CSEL 54:328); Palladius, Hist. Laus. 41 (ed. Lucot 1912, 292). 232. For the family relationships binding the ascetic groups who received Jerome's letters; Kelly 1975, 91-I03; Clark 1992, 25-30; on the family's children living in these ascetic houses; Augustine Ep. 130.30 (CSEL 44:75-6). 233. On clientage;Jerome Ep. 22.28 (CSEL 54:185-6); Clark 1992,17. 234. Porphyry, Plot. 7-12 (Loeb, 24-38). See more generally Fowden 1977; idem 1983. 235. On Chione and Gemina, Porphyry, Plot. 9,11 (Loeb, 30, 36). 236. The exceptions among Plotinus' group was Rogatianus: Porphyry, Plot. 7 (Loeb, 26). The exception in Jerome's circle was Principia: Jerome, Ep. 127.8 (CSEL 56: 1 5 1 ).
237. For instance, on servants; Jerome, Ep. 22.29; 130.13 (CSEL 54:187-8; CSEL 56:192); on visitors; Jerome, Ep. 22.28-9 (CSEL 54:185-9); on children; Augustine Ep. 130.30 (CSEL 44:75-6); on banquets; Jerome, Ep. 22.13, 28 (CSEL 54:160-1, 185-6); on wealth; Jerome Ep. 127.4 (CSEL 56:148-9). 238. Senatus matronarum:Jerome, Ep. 43.3 (CSEL 54:321). 239. On the Origenist controversy in Rome; Clark 1992; on the Jovinianist controversy; Hunter 1987; idem 2003; Brown 1988, 359-62,377-78; on Pelagian; Brown 1968; idem 1972b; on the home as the locus of these debates; Maier 1995b. 240. On the battle of the families; Brown 1972b, 210; on the particular make-up of each family and their contacts; Clark 1992, 20-30. 241. Jerome Ep. 48 (49).1-2,4; 49(48).14; 50 (CSEL 54:347-8,349; 370-1; 388-95). On Originist supporters' visits to Pammachius' house, see Ep. 83 (CSEL 55:119-20). 242. Jerome, Ep. 48 (49).1-2,4 (CSEL 54:347-8, 349). 243. Brown 1972b, 2II-14. 244. Jerome seems to have read Pelagius' letter to Demetrias before crafting his own Ep. 130 in 414: Kelly 1975, 313. Pammachius seems to have entertained the Pelgian supporter Rufinus the Syrian during his stay in Rome: Augustine, De peccato originali,3 (CSEL 42:168). On Augustine and the Ancii; Brown 1972b, 217-18; on Augustine's concern's over Pelagius' Holy Land trip; Pricoco 2001. 245· Celibacy and marriage; Jerome Ep. 49 (48); 50 (CSEL 54:350-87; 388-95); the comportment of virgin daughters; Jerome Ep. I07; 128; 130 (CSEL 55:290-305; CSEL 56:156-62; 175-201); Pelagius, Ad Demetriam (PL 30:15-45); communion; Jerome, Ep. 71.6 (CSEL 55:6-7). A later, sixth-century manual for a married woman takes up similar issues: Uber ad Gregoriam praef., 6, 8, 17 (PL Suppl. 3:227-8, 229, 239-42). On the Neoplatonist elite's concerns; Porphyry, Plot. II (Loeb, 36). 246. On fasting; Jerome Ep. 22.13; 71.6 (CSEL 54:160-1; CSEL 55:6-7); on charity, Paulinus of No la, Ep. I, 38 (CSEL 29:1-IO; 323-34); on elitism; Brown 1968, 97. 247. On asceticism as a promoter of hierarchies, see Clark 1999, 263. 248. Contra Lizzi 2004, esp. II3-15, who credits Liberius with a far greater role in their conversion and ascetic projects. In support of this argument she adduces merely the chronological overlap of these projects with Liberius' pontificate and assumes he must have played an active role in their decision to begin ascetic lives.
NOTES TO PP.
101-104
249. Albina and Marcella:Jerome Bp. 127.5 (CSEL 56:149); with the correction by Kelly 1975,92 n. 9; Paula:Jerome, Bp. I08.5-6 (CSEL 55:310-12). See also Lorenz 1966, 5-6. 250. Proclus, In Rempublieam 2 (ed. Kroll 1899-1901, 324-5). 251. On the holy men; Vita Melaniae 4 (SC 90:132-4). Bishops appear in the Roman portion of the narrative only as go-betweens, arranging meetings with the empress Serena and helping the couple distribute their properties to the poor (see Vita Melaniae 1I, 14 [SC 90:146-8, 156]). Interestingly, it is always "bishops" in the plural that are mentioned, not the bishop of Rome specifically, who must have watched in horror as the couple seems to have shipped the majority of their wealth off to foreign churches: not once is the church of Rome specifically mentioned as a beneficiary. On the couple's wealth, see Clark 1984, 95-109 .. 252. On Ambrosiaster's identity as presbyter under Damasus, see now Lunn-Rockcliffe 2007, Ch. 1-3. Thanks to the author for sharing her work before publication. On his attitude to elite ascetics, see Hunter 1989; idem 1999a, 144-9. 253. Ambrosiaster, Comm. Cor. 16:19 (CSEL 81.2:193): Salutant vos ecclesiae Asiae ... Salutant vos in domino multum Aquila et Priscilla corn domestica sua ecclesia. Duas ecclesias memorat, publicam et domesticam. Publicam dicit, quo omnes conveniunt; domesticam, in qua per amicitiam colligitur. Ubicumque enim presbyter solemnia celebrat, ecclesia dicitur. For Ambrosiaster's identity as a presbyter, possibly of a extra-urban funerary church, see Lunn-Rockcliffe 2007, Ch. 3, with a summary of the various arguments. 254. Insinuated by Ambrose, Bp. extra coli. 15 (42).13 (CSEL 82.3:310); Hunter 1993, 57-60; idem 2003,458. 255. On the date of the synod, Aldama 1963. 256. On the meetings, CTh 16·5·53 (398?) 257. Praedestinatus 1.86 (PL 53:616C-617BS). 258. See now the generally excellent assessment by Lizzi 2004, esp. 123-5. 259. Siricius: Hunter 2003, 455-7. The cleric "Ambrosiaster" may have prefigured his views: Hunter 1989, 294. Pelagius: Brown 1968, IOI-14. 260. Sozomen, Hist. Beel. 2.3 (PG 67:937B). 261. On Constantinople's pre-Constantinian history; Dagron 1974,13-19; Mango 1985, 13-21; Bassett 2004, 18-22. 262. A vast bibliography has contemplated Constantine's projects. Some surveys include Janin 1950, 27-37; Dagron 1974, 19-47, 88-9, 367-409; Miiller-Wiener 1977, 19-22; Krautheimer 1983, 41-67; Mango 1985,23-36; Berger 1997; Bassett 2004, 22-3 6. 263. On the development of the elite class in the new capital; Dagron 1974, 1I9-2IO; Matthews 1975, I02-,?, 1I8-21. 264. Dagron 1974, 78-88. 265. Mango 1985,37-50; Miiller-Wiener 1977,19-23. 266. Dagron 1974, 170-90. 267. Krautheimer 1983,56. 268. CTh 14.17.1 (364); 14·17·1I (393); 14.17. 12 (393); 14.17.13 (396); NTh 5·1 (438), all referring to similar laws passed by Constantine. 269· Dagron 1974, 534-41. 270. Kriesis 1960; Strube 1973; Dagron 1974, 525-30; Baldini Lippolis 1994. The most complete textual description appears in Socrates, Hist. Beel. 2.38, 6.23 (PG 67:329B332B ; 729D-732B).
259
NOTES TO PP.
I04-107
271. Ephesus: Lang-Aiunger 1996; Pergarnon: Radt 1978; for other eastern homes; Triimper 2003. Just how this situation differed from Rome is unclear, particularly now that the domusl insula dichotomy there has been called into questioned: Wallace-Hadrill 2003. 272. See, for example, Bardill 1999; Baldini Lippolis 2002, 179-88. 273. Notitia urbis Constantinopolitanae II-I2 (ed. Seeck 1876, 237-38). 274. See the description ofOlympias' oikoi at Vita Olympiadis 5 (SC 13bis:416-18). See also Dagron 1989, 1075. 275. For the location and evolution of these neighborhoods; Berger 1988, 361-63; Magdalino 2001, 57. 276. On the multiplication of imperial residences; Dagron 1974, 97-8; Janin 1950,1346. 277. On the location of these palaces, see Notitia urbis Constantinopolitanae II (ed. Seeck 1876,237-8); Magdalino 2001. 278. Olympias, for instance, is said to own a number of urban houses: Vita Olympiadis 5 (SC 13bis:416-18). On the suburban properties outside the Constantinian walls and beyond; Janin 1950, 130, 134-9, 146, 150-1; Tiftixoglu 1973; Dagron 1974, 97; Mango 1985,47· 279. Rufinianae: Pargoire 1899; Janin 1950 459-60. 280. Christianity in pre-Constantinian Constantinople; DACL 2.1363-71; early monuments; Dagron 1974, 392-3 (St. Irene); 393-5 (St. Akakios). 281. History of these bishops; Dagron 1974, 410-53, esp. 431-3 for the chronology. 282. The role of the city's elite in episcopal politics is clearest in the case of John Chrysostom's episcopacy: Liebeschuetz 1984, who also traces their earlier roles. See also Matthews 1975, 127-31. 283. Saturninus: PLRE 1.807-8; Aurelianus: PLRE 1.128-9. Another example was Flavius Caesarius, whose career stretched from magister officiorum under Theodosius to two prefectures of the East under Arcadius: PRLE 1. 171. For others, see Liebeschuetz 1990, 132-45. c.f. McLynn 1992, 22-3, who, however, stresses the role of the emperor over aristocrats in ecclesiastical politics, and attributes specific acts of religious violence to the emperors' frequent absence from the capital. 284. Palladius, Dial. 8.76-7 (SC 341:162). 285. Janin 1953, 17-19 (St. Akakios); ro8-II (St. Irene); Dagron 1974, 392-3 (St. Irene); 393-5 (St. Akakios). 286. Eusebius, Vit. Const. 4.58-60 (ed. Winkelmann 1975, 144-5); Janin 1953, 46-55; Dagron 1974, 401-9. 287. On the paltry remains; Miiller-Wiener 1977, 405-II; for the most plausible reconstruction; Mango 1990. See also Krautheirner 1964; idem 1986, 72-3. 288. On the various dates for the translation, as well as an earlier, more tenuous Constantinian attribution, see Wood 1991. 289. St. Irene: Socrates, Hist. Becl. 1.16, 1.37,2.6,2.16 (PG 67=1 17A, 176B, 193B, 217B); Notitia urbis Constantinopolitanae 3.7 ("ecclesiam antiquam") (ed. Seeck 1876, 231); Janin 1953, ro8-II; Dagron 1974, 392-3; St. Akakios: Socrates, Hist. Becl. 2.38, 6.23 (PG 67:329B-332B, 729D-732B); Sozomen, Hist. Becl. 4.21 (PG 67:II77AB); Notitia urbis Constantinopolitanae 11.9 (ed. Seeck 1876, 237); Janin 1953, 17-19; Dagron 1974, 393-5; St. Mokios: Sozomen, Hist. Becl. 8.17 (PG 67:1560C); Janin 1953, 367-7 I; Dagron 1974, 395. For an overall assessment of Constantine' s building policy, see Dagron 1974, 399-401. 290. Socrates, Hist. Bed. 2.16, 2.43 (PG 67:217B, 355A). Notitia urbis Constantinopolitanae 3.6 (ed. Seeck 1876, 231). BothJanin 1953, 471-85 and Krautheimer 1967, attribute
260
NOTES TO PP.
107-110
the building to Constantine,'eontra Dagron 1974, 89, 387-401. See also Mathews 1971, 11-19 for a reconstruction of the plan and liturgical arrangements. 291. Krautheimer 1983, 55-60. Indeed, Constantine may have devoted as much energy to temple construction as church building in his new capital: Bassett 2004. 292. John the Baptist at the Hebdomon: Demangel 1945; Janin 1953, 426-9; Anastasia: Janin 1953, 26-9, and see below note 373. 293. St. Lawrence: Marcellinus Comes, Chronieon a.c.439, a.c.453 (MGH [AA] II:80, 85); Janin 1953, 312-15; Theotokos in Chalkoprateia:Janin 1953,246-51; MiillerWiener 1977, 76-8; Mathews 1971, 28-33; Theotokos at Blachernae: Janin 1953, 169-79; Theotokos Hodegetria: Theodore Lector, Hist. Becl. (ed. Hansen 1995, 102); Nicophorus Callistus, Hist. Becl. 14.2; 15.14 (PG 146:106IA; 147:44A);Janin 1953,208-16. On Pulcheria's devotion to the Virgin, see Limbt:ris 1994, 53-61. 294. St. Polyeuktos: Anth. Gree. 10 (Loeb, 6); Janin 1953, 419-20; Harrison 1989; Magdalino 2001,58-9,61-4; Santa Euphemia en tois Olybriou: Anth. Gree. 12 (Loeb, 12); Janin 1953, 130-2; MagdaIino 2001, 59-61. Later sources attribute the martyria of St. Anthimius and St. Andrew to Theodosian princesses. 295· Mathews 1971, 33-8; Miiller-Wiener 1977, 74-5. 296. St. Paul: Notitia urbis Constantinopolitanae 8.12 (ed. Seeck 1876, 235); Sozomen, Hist. Becl. 7.10 (PG 67:144IA-B); Socrates, Hist. Becl. 5.9 (PG 6T58IB); Janin 1953,407-9; Dagron 1974. The church of Paul is somewhat confusing as Paul was Macedonius' great enemy and the church was eventually dedicated to the former by Theodosius as a means of proclaiming a final pro-Nicene victory. Furthermore, although Paul is said to have built it, he was also proclaimed bishop there and thus the construction may date from before his first elevation in 338. The church of the Notarii: Sozomen, Hist. Becl. 4.3 (PG 67:II13C-III6A);Janin 1953,391-2. 297. For the problem of multiple cathedrals see Ullmann 1851, 223; Mayer 2000. 298. Paul: see above note 296; Gregory Nazianzen: see below note 373. 299. Dagron 1989. See also Miiller-Wiener 1977, 21. 300. Dagron 1989, 1073, dates the phenomenon to the mid fifth century based on the small number of churches mentioned in the Notitia urbis Constantinopolitanae. This document does not include any of the known churches built outside the Constantinian walls, where most of the private foundations were clustered in the early fifth century. 301. On the possibilities and limitations of the Patria, see Berger 1988, 163-96. 302. On the consistent format the Patria uses to describe these churches; Dagron 1989, 1074; Berger 1988, 180-2. 303. Mango 1990, has convincingly demonstrated this. Constantine's monument was but one in a line of similar tetrarchic mausolea which carried deific connotations: Johnson 1986. 304. Cameron and Hall 1999, 338-9. 305. Eusebius, Vit. Const. 4.59 (ed. Winkelmann 1975, 144). 306. On palaces and tombs among the Tetrarchs; Waurick 1973; Brenk 1996. 307. MagdaIino 2001,53. 308. The tenth-century Book of Ceremonies' descriptions of the palace have been used to generate a variety of reconstructions: Miranda 1964 and more recently Bardill 1999. Excavations in the area revealed a large peristyle and apsed hall, the former of which was covered with famous mosaics depicting animal hunts. The complex probably dates to the sixth century, although the exact date is hotly contested: Nordhagen 1993; Bardill 1999. In short, the form of the Constantinian palace is wholly unknown.
261
NOTES TO PP. I IO-I I2
309. Vit. Const. 4.22 (ed. Winkelmann 1975, I28): AI.rrOS 8' 016: T1S IlETOXOS IEPWV opyiwv EV CmOpPTlTOlS E'{O"W TOlS a1hov ~aO"lA1K01S TallEiolS KmpolS EK6:O"TT)S TJIlEpas TaKTolS EaVTOV EyKAElWV, IlOVOS IlOVCPTc';) a1hov TTPOO"WlliAEl eEc';), IKET1KalS TE 8ETlO"EO"l YOVVTTETWV KaTE8vO"wTTEl WV E8ElTO TVXE1V, TalS 810 T1lS O"wTT)piov EOPT1lS TJIlEpalS ETTlTEivwv Tl]V &o"KT)o"lV TT6:O"ll pWllll 'PVX1lS Kat O"WllaTOS TOS eEias IEpocpaVTias ETEAElTO, W8E IlEV 6:yvElq: ~iov OAWS 6:vaKEiIlEVOS, W8E 810 TOlS TTaO"l T1lS EOPT1lS E~6:pXWV. (trans. Cameron and Hall 1999). 310. On Eusebius' complex motivations, Barnes 1981,261-71. 3 I I. Drake 1988, 29-3 I. 312. Hist. Becl.1.8 (PG 67:880B). The Patria, which credited Constantine with the construction of the palace church of the Savior near the Chalke Gate, and the church of St. Step hen, is probably not to be trusted: Patria 1,145 and 1,144, respectively. See also Janin 1953, 525-6 for the Savior church. 313. Socrates, Hist. Becl. 1.17 (PG 67:120B). 314. Theodoret, Hist. Becl. 1.17 (PG 82:960C). 315. Theodore Lector, Hist. Becl. (ed. Hansen 1995, 13). 316. As noted by Klein 2004. The palace's other alleged early relic, the hand of Saint Stephen, is probably an invention of the eighth-century chronicler Theophanes. See Theophanes Chron. 74-5 (PG 108:232C-233B). The Stephen tradition in the city is extraordinarily tangled. Janin 1953,489-90 and Holum 1982,103-9 assume Theophanes' testimony is true, while Wortley 1980, argues that it is not. 317. His story is described by John Rufus, Vita Petri Iberi (ed. and trans. Raabe 1895). 318. John Rufus, Vita Petri Iberi, 17-18 (ed. and German trans. Raabe 1895,25). English trans. Lang 1976. 319. Sozomen, Hist. Becl. 9.2 (PG 67:1597A-1601C). 320. The family and friends of Gregory ofNyssa; Gregory ofNyssa, Mart. (PG 46:784); idem, V. Maer. (PG 46:976, 992); idem, Bp. 20 (PG 46:1081); Van Dam 2003a, 1413. They had also made their way west by this time under the same connections: Gaudentius, Traet. 17.14-38 (CSEL 68:144-51). 321. On Flavius Caesarius; PLRE 1.171; PLRE 2.249. 322. For the complex history of Thyrsus and the various places in Bithynia and Asia Minor associated with his martyrdom, see AASS Jan. 3:423-4. Interestingly, his later aeta include a devout bishop named Caesarius: AASS Jan 3:432, 439, 447. 323. On the later history of the church; Janin 1953, 498-9, although see PLRE 2.249 for important corrections regarding its later mythology. 324. On Rufinus; PLRE 1.778-81; on his project at Chalcedon; Claudian, In Rtifinum 2.446-53 (ed. Barrie-Hall 1985,48); Sozomen, Hist. Becl. 8.17 (PG 67= 1560A-B); Callinicus, Vita Hypatii 8.1-7 (SC 177=96-100); Pargoire 1899; Janin 1950, 459-60; on the date; Mathews 1971, 134-6, c.f. Fitschen 2001, 92-6, who disputes the evidence for its consecration in 394. 325. Clear from Callinicus, Vita Hypatii 8.4 (SC 177:98). 326. Again, I rely on Mango 1990. 327. Rufinus was not destined to find his final resting place here, as his body was unceremoniously tossed into the sea upon his denouement: Festugiere 1961, 83. 328. These were Hypatius and his small group: Vita Hypatii 8.1-17 (SC 177:96-104). 329. On Aurelianus; PLRE 1.I28-9; for the church: Vita Isaaci, 4.18 (AASS Maii 7.253D-E); Janin 1953, 488. 330. Aurelianus' non-success in obtaining Stephen's relics appears in only one unpublished version of the Vita Isaaci (Bibliotheque Nationale, MS 1453, fo1. 225v-226): Nau 1906, 200.
262
NOTES TO PP.
112-114
331. Sozomen, Hist. Eecl. 8.24 (PG 67= 1577A-B); Janin 1953, 492. 332. Magdalino 2001,58-9,61-4. For the first phase of the Polyeuktos church, see above note 294. 333. Pulcheria's church to Saint Lawrence seems to have been located near the Golden Horn. Although the church is termed by one source en Puleherianais, Berger doubts that the church was located in or' near the palace: Berger 1988, 530, c.f. Janin 1953, 300-4· On Anicia Iuliana's church; Marcellinus Comes, a.c.439 (MGH [AA] I I :80); Janin 1953, 490--2; on the location of Anicia Iuliana's church of Stephen; Magdalino 2001, 63-7. 334. Socrates, Hist. Eecl. 2·38, 6.23 (PG 67=329B-332B; 729D--'732B); Sozomen, Hist. Eecl. 4.21 (PG 67:1177A-B). Notitia urbis Constantinopolitanae 11.9 (ed. Seeck 1876, 237); Janin 1953, 17-19. 335. Socrates, Hist. Eecl. 6.23 (PG 67:729D-731B). 336. This impression is reinforced by another source which describes the site during the riots that took place when the bishop Macedonius was impolitic enough to move Constantine's body there while fixing the Holy Apostles: Socrates, Hist, Eecl. 2.38 (PG 67=329B-332B). Contra Mango 1985, 36 n. 73, who claims the oikos is the church itself, an interpretation which is not well-supported by the text. 337. These shrines are listed in proceedings of the Council ofChalcedon: Mansi 7=61-3. See also Caner 2002, 229. 338. On the martyrs; AASS Feb. 1:325-32; Sept. 7:564-5; on the woman, PLRE 2.278. Although her husband was a tribunus et notarius, there is no evidence that the family had a house in Constantinople. Janin 1953, 289, suggests the shrine may have been named for the founder, although he makes no suggestions as to her identity. 339. On the martyr's cult;Janin 1953, 508-9; for other "Philips"; PLRE 1.695--'7; 2.8747· 340. CTh 9.17.7 (386), issued in Constantinople to praetorian prefect Cynegius. See Caner 2002, 234. 341. Dagron 1970; idem 1989, summarizes the evidence. I have been somewhat more cautious in accepting the Patria's account of many of these foundations, and have only included those which can be verified by other, more contemporary evidence. 342. Vita Olympiadis 6 (SC 13biqI8). 343. Vita Olympiadis 7: "8IaKovia". (SC 13bis:420, with n. 5 explaining the terminology). 344. Vita Olympiadis 12 (SC 13biq32); Dagron 1974, 505. 345. On Saturninus and Victor; PLRE 1. 807-8, 957-9, respectively; Mathews 1971, 120-1,130-1; for the monasteries; Vita Isaaci 4.14 (AASS Maii 7.251F-252A);Janin 1953, 86--9. 346. Vita Isaaci 4.15-16 (AASS Maii 7.252A-C); Caner 2002, 191-4. 347. Vita Isaaci 4.18 (AASS Maii 7.253D-E). 348. Promotus; PLRE 1.750--1; Mathews 1971, II6 n. I, II9-20; monastery; John Chrysostom, Ep. 207 (PG 52:726-7); Janin 1953, 554. 349. Monastery of Elias: Mansi 6:753A; Janin 1953, 145-6; monastery of Thelassius: Mansi 6:752C:Janin 1953,147. See also Dagron 1970, 240--2. 350. Patria 2, 251. No Florentius served under Arcadius, as the Patria claims, but the person may be Florentius 7: PLRE 2.478-80. For a similar problem, the Patria attributes to one Dexiokrates a similar retirement home under Theodosius 11: Patria 2, 241. However, no person by this name is known from this period except a consul of 503: PLRE 2.357. See also Berger 1988, 475.
NOTES TO PP.
114-117
351. As described in detail in Magdalino 2001. 352. Aelia Eudocia; PLRE 2-408--9, and 1308, for the family connections; for the location of her palace; Magdalino 2001, 58--9. On the church, see above note 294. 353. LiciniaEudoxia; PLRE 2.410-2; church; Anth. Gree. 1.12, 14, 15, 16, 17 (Loeb, 12, I4);Janin 1953,130-2; location of house; Magdalino 2001,57-8. 354. On commemoration, Dagron 1989, 1072. 355. Dagron 1989, I082-3· 356. Vita Isaaci 4.16,18 (AASS Maii 7.252B-C, 253D-E). 357· Dagron 1989· 358. See Mayer and Alien 2000, 15. 359. Dagron 1989, I073· 360. Thomas 1987, 35. 361. Council ofChalcedon C.4 (Mansi 7:394); Dagron 1970, 272-5; Caner 2002,206-12. 362. Vita Isaaci 4.14 (AASS Maii 7.251F-252A). A similar situation is described in Callinicus, Vita Hypatii 8.14-17 (SC 177=I02-4), wherein a wealthy woman meets Hypatius, and immediately sends food and provisions to restore Rufinus' decrepit monastery. No bishop is mentioned. 363. See for instance Anth. Grec. 4, 5, 6, 7, IO, 12, 14, 15, 16, 17 (Loeb, 4, 6-10, 12, 16). 364. Sozomen, Hist. Beel. 3.24 (PG 67:II09A). 365. Sozomen, Hist. Beel. 4.20, 4.27 (PG 67:II73A, 1200C-1201A); Socrates, Hist. Beel. 2·38 (PG 67=324B). Dagron 1970, 248--9. 366. On their subsequent episcopates; Sozomen, Hist. Beel. 4.20 (PG 67:II73A); Socrates, Hist. Beel. 2.38 (PG 67:324B). 367. Sozomen Hist. Beel. 4.20, 4.27 (PG 67=II73A, 1200C-1201A). 368. On Macedonius' use of monks; Sozomen, Hist. Beel. 4.2 (PG 67:1113B); on Eusebia; Sozomen, Hist. Beel. 9.2 (PG 67:1597A-1601C). Flavius Caesarius, the husband of Eusebia's friend, does not appear in the historical record until 386, and he is said to have buried his wife after holding his consulship in 397. Eusebia would thus have had to have been considerably older than her friend to have served as deaconess under Macedonius (deposed 361). 369. Sozomen, Hist. Beel. 8.5 (PG 67=ISZ8C-1529B). 370. Gregory Nazianzen, Carm. 2.1.11.596 (De vita sua) (ed.Jungck 1974,82). 371. On the identity of his episcopal supporters, Snee 1981, 120-1. 372. Olympias: McLynn 1998, contra Bernardi 1984. 373. GregoryNazianzen, Or. 42.26 (SC 384:108); Carm. 2.1.5.3-5 (AdplebemAnastasiae) (PG 37:I022A); Carm. 2.I.II.I079-80 (De vita sua) (ed. Jungck 1974, I06); Carm. 2.1.15.49-50 (PG 37= 1254A); Socrates, Hist. Beel. 5.7 (PG 67=573B); Sozomen, Hist. Beel. 7.5 (PG 67= 1425A) Photius, Biblioteeha 59 (PG I03:108A); Ambrose, Bp. extra colI. 9 (13).3 (CSEL 82.3:202); Vita Isaaci, po (AASS Maii 7.249D). 374. Gregory Nazianzen, Or. 25.19, 42.2 (SC 284:202-4; SC 384:50-54); Carm. 2.I.II.I079 (Devitasua) (ed.Jungck 1974,106). 375. Humble surroundings; Gregory Nazianzen, Or. 22.19; 42.2, 4 (SC 284:202-4; SC 384:50-4, 58-60); protestations against patronage; Gregory Nazianzen, Or. 42.24 (SC 384:102-6); Carm. 2.1.11.703-21 (De vita sua) (ed.Jungck 1974,88). 376. Appearance of the Anastasia; Gregory Nazianzen, Carm. 2.1.16 (Somnium de Anastasiae eeelesia) (PG 37:1254-61); Snee 1998, 158-60, contra Bernardi 1984, 354. The church may have existed prior to Gregory's arrival, as groups of pro-Nicene elites persisted under the Arian Macedonius, even electing their own bishop, Evagrius: Socrates, Hist. Beel. 4.14 (PG 67:497B); Sozomen, Hist. Beel. 6.13 (PG 67:1328B); Dagron 1974, 446. The church seems to have been promoted as a shrine of
NOTES TO PP.
117-119
pro-Nicene propaganda and maintained beside Theodosius' larger new church: Socrates, Hist. Bcel. 5.7 (PG 6T573B); Snee 1998, 160-1. 377. Location;Janin 1953,28-9; Berger 1988, 445-7; Snee 1998, 165-6 on the evidence from the Vita Marciani, which details the sale of adjacent properties for this astronomical sum. The later fifth-century Gothic generals, Ardabur and Aspar, also lived nearby and seemed to have adopted· the church, donating to it precious liturgical plate: Snee 1998, 176. 378. Received by his relatives; Gregory Nazianzen, Or. 26.17 (SC 284.266); his family connections; PLRE I. I 140. 379. Gregory Nazianzen, Bp. 133 and 134 (to Victor), 132 (to Saturninus) (PG 37:228C230C; 228B-C). 380. Vita Isaaci 3.10 (AASS Maii 7.249D). . 381. GregoryNazianzen, Carm. 2.1.11.679-703 (De vita sua) (ed.Jungck 1974, 86-8). See also Snee 1981, 123-33, for a detailed treatment of Or. 22, which addresses the same issue, and more generally McLynn 1992, 30-2. 382. Gregory Nazianzen, Carm. 2.1.11.703-21 (De vita sua) (ed. Jungck 1974, 88). McLynn has further noted that Gregory's later correspondence with these elites hints at a certain insecurity: McLynn 1998, 245. 383. Chrysostom's rise to the Constantinopolitan patriarchate and his downfall are charted in Tiersch 2001; Mayer and Alien 2000, 7-16; Liebeschuetz 1984; idem 1990, 166-88; 195-227. Caner 2002, 194-9 details the role of monks; Holum 1982, 70-8, on the empress. 384. Dagron 1974, 498-506, argues that Chrysostom initiated a broad and successful reorganization of the church and its finances, a more ambitious project than perhaps the evidence supports. See, on the other hand, Liebeschuetz 1984, 88; and Caner 2002, 196 for assessments that dovetail with that proposed here. 385. Palladius, Dial. 5.II2-27 (SC 341:120). This section is ambiguously worded as a fight against the 'avaricious' and the 'purse-watchers.' See also Photius, Biblioteca 59 (PG 103:105-9). Liebeschuetz 1984, 89-90; idem 1990, 221-22, claims that it was an attempt to corner wealthy women's inheritances that lay behind Chrysostom's denouement. Unfortunately, the concerns about inheritance appear much earlier (CTh 16.2.27 [390]) and probably relate to Olympias' dispensation of her property after her husband's death, long before Chrysostom ever came on the Constantinopolitan scene. 386. Photius, Biblioteca 59 (PG I03:108B). 387. Palladius, Dial. 5.120; 19.99-100 (SC 341:120, 384). Trans. Meyer 1985. 388. Prohibition of clergy at banquets; Palladius, Dial. 12.30-40 (SC 341:234). Tiersch 2001, 135-51, rightly notes that these measures were a continuation ofChrystosm's Antiochene efforts to reduce "worldliness." 389. John Chrysostom, Homilia cum Saturninus et Aurelianus acti essent in exsilium (PG 52:413-20). 390. On his centralization of church finances, Tiersch 2001, 152-60. 391. MGH (AA) 12:438-55, on the Roman synod of 502. 392. For a new interpretation of Symmachus' response; Hillner 2007, contra Llewellyn 1976; Pietri 1981. 393. On Chrystom's relationships with the elite generally; Tiersch 2001, 229-50; Liebeschuetz 1984; idem 1990, 217-22. 394. Palladius, Dial. 4.92-4 (SC 341:94): "cq.l
NOTES TO PP.
119-122
395. John Chrysostom, Bp. 207 (PG 52:726727). On Chrysostom's relationship with the Gothic communities of the city, see Liebeschuetz 1990, 169-70; 189--94. 396. On Isaac's relationship with Chrysostom, which is nowhere discussed in his Vita (here he dies two decades before Chrysostom appears), Caner 2002, 194--99. 397. Palladius, Dial. 8.76--'7 (SC 341:162). His account blurs the two events, making it seem as though the Synod itself was a domestic cabal. The Council of the Oak was held in the Rufinianes, the palace ofRufinus which had since passed into imperial hands. On Chalcedon's role in the machinations against John, see Mayer and Alien 2000, 15. 398. Brown 1988, 309-19. 399. John Chrysostom, Horn. in Acta apost. 18.4-5 (PG 60.147-50). He also urged homebased prayer and alms collection: Bleem. 3 (PG 51.265-6); Horn. in 1. Cor. 43.4 (PG 61.372-3). For the Constantinopolitan setting and the date of these homilies, probably in 400, see Mayer 2005, 192-5; on his relationship with his Antiochene flock; Maxwe1l2006. 400. On Antioch and households; Brown 1988, 319; on Chrysostom's attempt to instill a Christian habitus; Maxwell 2006, 144-68. 401. On the dining issue, see Photius, Biblioteea 59 (PG 103 :108C), where Chrysostom's antisocial habits are likened to the Cyclops! 402. On the analoguous situations of Chrysostom and Gregory Nazianzen, McLynn 1998, 482. 403. For instance, Rufinus' monks from Egypt: Vita Hypatii, 8.5 (SC 177:98); Hypatius from Phrygia: Vita Hypatii, 1.1 (SC 177:72); Isaac from Syria: Vita Isaaci 2.4 (AASS Maii 7.246A-B). 404. The particular quality of Constantinopolitan monasticism was recognized by Dagron 1970, 253-61, who attributed it largely to the city's heterogeneous monastic population and their bond with charitable institutions, not to the exigencies produced by private patronage. 405. As noted by Dagron 1970, 256-7; and Caner 2002, 190--9, 225-30. 406. Dagron 1970, 246-53. 407. Gribomont 1967; Elm 1994, 106-1 I; Caner 2002,99-100. 408. Socrates Hist. Beel. 2.43 (PG 67:352B-353B); Council of Gangra, esp. C.I, 4,5,6,7, 8,10,11,1920 (Mansi 2:1099-Il03). On the date of the council, see the differing positions offered by Gribomont 1967, and Barnes 1989. 409. Eustathius' influence on Basil; Rousseau 1994, 239-54; Elm 1994, Ill, 124-36, although the latter sees the settled, communal aspects of Basilian monasticism as also being derived from Eustathius. Eustathius' influence on Macedonius via Marathonius; Dagron 1970, 246-53; Elm 1994, I Il-12, 125; Caner 2002,190. 410. Sozomen Hist. Beel. 4.20, 4.27 (PG 6TIl73A, 1200C-120IA). 41 I. Dagron 1970, 246--9. 412. Gribomont 1980. 413. Escolan 1999,183-225. 414. Eustathian asceticism's competitive qualities as revealed (and reviled) at the council of Gangra: Caner 2002, 153-4. Victor and Saturninus' monastery-building competition; Vita Isaaci, 4.14-15 (AASS Maii 7.25IF-252B); on the Isaac's pro-Nicene pedigree; Vita Isaaci 2 (AASS Maii 7.246A247F). 415. For Saturninus and Victor's respective career trajectories, PLRE 1.807-8, 957--9· 416. Vita Isaaci 4.15-16 (AASS Maii 7.252B-C). On Isaac as typical of a strand of Syrian monasticism, see Escolan 1999, 222.
266
NOTES TO PP. 122-128
417. On Aurelianus; PLRE 1.128-9; on the church and its location; Vita Isaaci 4.18 (AASS Maii 7.253D-E). 418. Liebeschuetz 1984, 90-2; Caner 2002, 194-9. 419· On eutaxia; Caner 2002,200-1; on Basil; Elm 1994, 6D--77; Rousseau 1994, 201-10. 420. Escolan 1999, 267-387. 421. On the Eutychian controversy; DHGE 16:87-91; Caner 2002,206-12; on Flavian's reluctance to tangle with Eutychius; DHGE 17:391. 422. On Chrysaphius, PLRE 2.295-7. 423. Florentius: PLRE 2:478-80; Mansi 6:757; Macedonius: PLRE 2:698; Mansi 6:757. Archimandrite signatories of the synod of 448 are found in the proceedings of the Council ofChalcedon in 451, where they were read out: Mansi 6:752-3. 424. Mansi T6I-4; Caner 2002,225-39. . 425. Council ofChalcedon C.4, 8 (Mansi 7:394,395). See also Thomas 1987, 37. 426. Contra Dagron 1989, ro80-2, who reads the subsequent history as an evolution away from episcopal controL See Thomas 1987, 47-III.
CHAPTER 3. "CHRISTIANIZING" THE COUNTRYSIDE: RURAL ESTATES AND PRIVATE CULT 1. Ausonius, Ephemeris 2.2-3 (ed. Green 1991, 7-ro). 2. Ausonius, Ephemeris 2.2 (ed. Green 1991, 7-8): Nec tus cremandum postulo/ nec liba crusti mellei/ foculumque vivi caespitis/ vanis relinquo altaribus.! Deus precandus est mihi/ ac filius sumrni dei/ maiestas unius modi/ sociata sacro spiritu. Trans. Loeb. 3. On Ausonius' Christianity, Green 1993. 4. For instance, David 1947; Griffe 1947; Alonso 1955; Frend 1967· 5. Dolger 1950; Stancliffe 1979; Pietri 1986. 6. Heinzelmann 1976. 7· For instance, Wood 1979; Van Dam 1985; Monfrin 1988; Lizzi 1989; Ripoll and Velazquez 1999; Pergola ed. 1999; Cantino Wataghin 1994; idem 2000; Maciel 1996; Pietri 2002; Brogiolo and Chavarria 2003; Frondoni 2003; Panto 2003; Pejrani Baricco 2003; Sannazaro 2003; Brogiolo and Chavarria 2005, 127-50; Delaplace ed. 2005. 8. For an explicit historiographic critique, see Bowes 2007. 9. See, for example, Chavarria 2007b; Volpe 2007; Fiocchi Nicolai 2007. 10. Monetary reforms; Banaji 2001; Diocletianic reorganization, taxes, annona and the countryside; Durliat 1990, 14-29, and more controversially 65-94; Whittaker and Garnsey 1998; Corbier 2oo5a, 360-86; idem 2005b, 397-406; McCormick 2002, 64-119. I!. For some general studies of the North African export economy and its chronology, see Keay 1984, 2.406-27, 433-5; Mattingly 1995, 138-59; Reynolds 1995, 6-14, 40-60, ro6-41. 12. On Tripolitania; Barker et al. 1996, 1.147-58; on Proconsularis; Leveau 1984, 463-4; on diminution of settlements in Mauretania Tingitana; Akerraz et al. 1995; Villaverde Vega 2001,287; in general; Leone and Mattingly 2004. 13. Among many, see Percival 1976; Van Ossel 1992, esp. 121-34; De Franceschini 1998; Balmelle 2001; Baldini Lippolis 2002; Scott 2004; Chavarria 2005, which track the regional variation in these trends. 14. Balmelle 1980, idem 1987; Guardia Pons 1992; Vaquerizo Gil and Carrillo DiazPines 1995; Stirling 1996; Arce, Caballero, and Angel Elvira 1997; Scott 2000.
NOTES TO PP.
128-135
15. Stirling 1996. 16. On Lullingstone mosaic with Virgilian inscription; Meates ed. 1979,75-83; on the Torre de Palma horse mosaics; Blazquez 1980, 143-4. 17. Fontaine 1972; idem 1974; idem 1981; Roque 1987, 136-7; Roberts 1989; idem 1994; Conybeare 2000; Mratschek-Halfinann 2002,24-37. 18. Ausonius, De herediolo 17-18 (ed. Green 1991, 19): Verum ager iste meus quantus sit, nosce, etiam ut me/ noveris et noris te quoque, si potis es. 19. Hinton St. Mary: Toynbee 1963; Centcelles: Schlunk: 1988; Arce ed. 2002. The essays in the latter volume (with which I am in agreement) collectively suggest that the domed space did not originally serve Christian funerary functions and was certainly not the mausoleum of the emperor Constans. 20. Percival 1976, 191-8; idem 1997. 21. On estate vici; Vera 2001; Banaji 2001, 12-13; Brogiolo and Chavarria 2005,26-30. 22. As noted by Brogiolo and Chavarria 2003,28-30. 23. Chavarria 2007b, who has used these problems to suggest that no private churches of any number were constructed prior to the sixth century. 24. Ausonius, Bphemeris, 2.2 (ed. Green 1991, 7). 25. Sidonius Apollinaris, Bp. 8.4.1; idem, Carm. 22.218: ... in templa dei, qui maximus ille est ... (ed. Mohr 1895, 175, 335). 26. Ulpian, Dig. 1.8.9.2; Wissowa 1912, 468-9. 27. Dubordieu and Scheid 2000,62-3. 28. A large number of such 'intra-villa' churches have been proposed which are not included here. In some cases, insufficient evidence exists to prove their ritual function: e.g. El Val (Rasc6n 1995); Sao Cucufate (Alarcao, Etienne, Mayet 1995,385-'7). In yet other instances, the villa seems to have been converted to other uses when the church was constructed: e.g. El Saucedo (Benadala Galan, Castelo Ruano, and Arribas 1998); Lalonquette (Lauffray, Schreyeck, and Dupre 1973). 29. Meates ed. 1979; Meates et al. eds. 1987; Neal1991. 30. For the dating of the pagan shrine in the cellar, Meates ed. 1979, 38-9, whose adherence to very tight, coin-based chronologies suggested that pagan shrine and Christian chapel overlapped in function. However, given the relatively broad possible dates for the church and shrine, this remains only a possibility. 3 I. A slab of opus signinum and possible furniture leg were found in the church debris and tentatively suggested as pieces of an altar and base. However, they were found near the western end of the church: Meates ed. 1979, 43. 32. See Liversidge and Weatherhead 1987. 33. On the door from the villa, whose presence is only adduced from fresco remains, see Liversidge and Weatherhead 1987, 23-8. 34. Serra Raf6ls 1943; Puertas 1972; PalOl1989, 2001-3; idem 1999; Guardia Pons 1992, 83-100; Godoy Fern:'mdez 1995, 227-37; Navarro Saez 1999. I am greatly indebted to Fransesc Tusset for discussing his work on this monument. 35. On the mosaic, Guardia Pons 1992, 89-91, 100. 36. Again, Chavarria 2007b, 136, is skeptical and claims the presence of a church "vera e propria" can only be dated to a sixth-century phase when the earlier building was provided an elevated, inscribed apse. 37. Godoy Fernandez 1995, 232· 38. As yet the site is only summarily published and a plan is still lacking: Spagnolo Garzoli 1991; Pant6 and Pejrani Baricco 2001, 40-2; Pejrani Baricco 2003, 62-70. 39. Left out of this account is the villa church site of Monte da Cegonha in southern Lusitania: Alfenim and Lopes 1994; idem 1995; Lopes and Alfenim 1994. Thanks
268
NOTES TO PP.
40. 41. 42. 43.
44. 45.
46.
47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52.
53. 54. 55.
56. 57. 58.
59.
I35-I45
to Rafael Alfenim and Conceiyao Lopes for discussing their work on this site. Although dated by its excavators to the fourth century, a series of Carbon- I 4 dates of the mortar from the church and villa complex center on the seventh century: 640 (605-55); 545-60 (535-615) (church); 670 (660-90); 660 (645-80) (villa). AMS dating was done in the AU/AMS 14C Dating Laboratory, Institute of Physics and Astronomy, University of Aarhus, Denmark. Thanks to Asa Ringbom, AlfLindroos, and Jan Heinemeier for mortar dating. A new survey sets out additional examples: Chavarria 2007b. On this tradition, see Chapter I. Chavarria 2007b, 136--'7 provides a list of cautions. The villa, although it has been located by field survey, has never been excavated, but the ceramic found at the site strongly suggests a main phase during the late antique period: Hauschild 1969, 296; Gorges 1979, 422. On the mausoleum, see Hauschild 1969; idem 1978; Schlunk and Hauschild 1978, 129-3 I. See Schlunk and Hauschild 1978, 308. Serra Rafols 1952; Cerrillo I983; idem 1984. The villa seems to have had a particularly long life, with a double-apsed hall, possibly used for reception purposes, inserted as late as the end of the sixth century. The function of this hall is debated, with the excavator originally believing it functioned as a second church: Serra Rafols 1952, 63-72 and 164-6. This interpretation has been widely rejected: Palol I967, 136-40; Ulbert 1978, 106-9, and some have suggested instead that the structure may have served as an audience hall. Serra Rafols 1949; idem I952, ro8-46; Palol 1967, I4Q-5; Schlunk and Hauschild 1978, II-I2. Date suggested by Palol, and Schlunk and Hauschild, based on architectural plan and construction details. A late fourth-century date was tentatively confirmed by Carbon-14 dating of the building's mortar, with two samples dating to 345-80 (260-405) and 245 (235-325)· Suic 1960; Buzov 1994; Chevalier 1996, 1.96-8. The duration of occupation in the Muline villa is only generally reported. See Suic 1960. Terrier 1991; idem 2003,22-3; Terrier, Haldimann and Wible 1993. Different dates are suggested in Terrier I99I, 234 and idem 2005,23· Martin-Kilcher 1993,158; Lafon and Adam 1993, II9-20. See also Chapter I. Chavarria 2007b, 143 suggests that the later churches may indicate a continuity of elite presence on these sites and a deliberate association with the memory of elites past. See Chapter 2. Alberca: Schlunk I947; Schlunk and Hauschild 1978 lQ-II; II2-14; villa: Gorges 1979, 308; Marusinac: Dyggve I95I, 77-78; Dyggve and Egger I939, ro6-7. Further evidence of a connection between Hispania and Salona is provided by a Salonitan inscription, commemorating the Spanish martyr Vincent: Handley 2003, I44· Fiskovic 1984; Fadic 1998; Chevalier 1996, 1.312-15. The name of the island, Majsan or Maximus, led the excavator to suggest the site was dedicated to the bishop of Salona of that name, who died in 346: Fiskovic I984. For the most recent findings, see articles in Fernandez-Galiano 2001. Overview articles include; Fernandez-Galiano 1994; Fernandez-Galiano, Patan Lorca, and Batalla Carchenilla 1994; Fernandez-Galiano I999. The two complexes are alleged to have been planned together, although the execution of the mausoleum complex may slightly post-date that of the main complex.
NOTES TO PP.
60. 6r. 62.
63. 64. 65. 66.
67· 68.
69. 70. 71.
72.
73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 8r. 82. 83. 84.
145-153
Additionally, it is not clear if the tetraconch mausoleum was entered solely through the U-shaped portico group, or also through the main entrance portico, to which it is also attached. On the eastern origins of pitched-brick technique, see Hauschild 1982. Mosaic inscription; Gomez Pallan~s 1997, 148-52; Theodosian quarry marks; Mayer Olive and Fernandez-Galiano 2001, 129-30. Maternus' Spanish affiliation; Matthews 1967, c.f. Garcia Moreno 2001, who disagrees. Maternus' translation from the Holy Apostles to Hispania; Consularia Constantinopolitana s.a. 388.1 (ed. Burgess 1993, 242). On Rufinus' complex, see Chapter 2. Against the attribution to Maternus, Arce 1993. On the distinction, which emerged with the critique of Andre Grabar's seminal book (Grabar 1946), see Ward-Perkins 1965. CTh 16.2.33 (398): Ecclesiis, quae in possessionibus, ut adsolet, diversorum, vicis etiam vel quibuslibet locis sunt constitutae. . .. On orthodoxy and procuratores: CTh 16.5.21 (392); 16·5·34 (398); 16.5.40.7 (407); 16.5.52.1 (412); 16.6·4·1 (405). CTh 16.2·33 (398). Augustine: Bp. 20*.9 (CSEL 88:roo); Civ. Dei 22.8 (CSEL 40.2:602-3,606); Sidonius Apollinaris: Bp. 4.15 (ed. Mohr 1895, 90-1). Fevrier and Gonsalves 1996, 148 assume this was the baptistery of the city of Rodez. Priscillian: Council of Zaragoza, C.2 (Mansi 3:634). On the problem, see Percival 1997; Brogiolo and Chavarria 2003, 18. Mirabella Roberti 1965; idem 1970; Massari and Roffia 1985; Bishop and PassiPitcher 1988-<); Passi-Pitcher 1990; Blockley 200I-2. The absence of a dome is suggested by the relative thinness of the outer walls (605cm), contra Mirabella Roberti 1965, 83. On the comparison with Sta. Costanza, see Mirabella Roberti 1965. Villa: Lavagne, Prudhomme and Rouquette 1976; Lugand and Pellecuer 1988; Lugand 1994; Bermond and Pellecuer 1997, 75-7; Pellecuer 2000; church: Pellecuer 1989; idem 1995. On the house, Pellecuer 2000. Mennella 1993; Micheleto and Pejrani Baricco 1995, 331-7; Cantino Wataghin 1999,43-5; Panto and Pejrani Baricco 2001, 22-5; Pejrani Baricco 2001. For a more complete discussion of the problems with the North African evidence and list of possible sites, see below note 172. Ward-Perkins 1950; Ward-Perkins and Goodchild 1953, 54-6; Welsby 1991; Barker et al. 1996, 2.62, 64 66, 68-<). Augustine, De civ. D. 22.8 (CSEL 40.2:603). Augustine, De civ. D. 22.8 (CSEL 40.2:602-3). Augustine, De civ. D. 22.8 (CSEL 40.2:606). Hauschild 1970; idem 1972, 327-30; Vinayo 1970; Schlunk and Hauschild 1978, 147-8. Jerome Bp. 43.3; 127.8 (CSEL 54:320-1; 56:151). Lorenz 1966. Spanish couple: Jerome Bp. 71 and 75 (CSEL 55:1-7, 29-34); Sidonius' friend: Sidonius Apollinaris Bp. 4.9.3 (ed. Mohr 1895, 82-3). The archaeological evidence for fourth through sixth-century rural asceticism is basically non-existent. Two recent discoveries, Diaporit in Albania and San Sebastiano near Alatri in Lazio may prove viable examples, but both are later fifth or
NOTES TO PP. 153-156
sixth century in date: see Bowden and Perzhita 2004; and Fentress et al. eds. 2005, respectively. 85. The fullest accounts of Paulinus' life and conversion are now Trout 1999, esp. 23-103 on his early life, and Mratschek-Halfinann 2002. 86. Cf. Paulinus of Nola, Carm. 1-2 (CSEL 30:1-2). On his life and environment in Aquitaine and Hispania, see now the exhaustive study of Mratschek-Halfinann 2002, 190-241. 87. Paulinus of Nola, Carm. 7·8-12; 5.37-42; 6.219-54. (CSEL 30:19, 5, 14-16). See also Fontaine 1972, 580-6. 88. Trout 1999, 68-77· 89. Evidence of Paulinus' family lands m Campania; Paulinus of Nola, Ep. 32.17 (at Fundi) (CSEL 29:291-3); Ambrose Ep. 27 (58).2-3 (CSEL. 82.1:180-1); CIL 10.1702 (Pontius Proserius Paulinus, patronus at Puteoli). 90. Paulinus of No la, Carm. 21.367-8, 379-86 (CSEL 30:170-1). 91. Lehmann 2004, 132-3. The evidence for an extant family property in or around Nola is Arnbrose, Ep. 27 (58).2 (CSEL 82.1:180); Mratschek-Halfinann 2002,65-6.
However, it is not clear that the property in question was adjacent to Felix's tomb. 92. Paulinus of Nola, Ep. 29.13 (CSEL 29:260); Carm. 21.380-94; 27.395-405 (CSEL 30:170-1, 279-80). Lehmann 2004, 203-7, analyzes the various possible permuta-
93. 94. 95. 96. 97· 98. 99. 100.
101. 102.
103· 104. 105. 106.
tions and tentatively suggests that these passages describe two different two-story complexes, one perhaps built by Paulinus during his tenure as governor, and another built sometime after his permanent move to Nola. The notion that these complexes were part of a second story in the Basilica Nova itself is unpersuasive. However, where this/these complexes lay vis-a-vis the tomb remains unclear. Lehmann 2004,132-3· Lehmann 2004 provides an exhaustive study of the Pauline basilica. For the financing, see esp. 145-6. Conybeare 2000,9 1- 100. On his presbyterate in Barcelona; Paulinus of No la, Ep. 1.10 (CSEL 29.1:8-9); for the dates of his episcopate; Lehmann 2004, 147. Trout 1999, 92-3, 133-59· Trout 1999, 145-50; Mratschek-Halfinann 2002, 65-7. Arthur 2002, 140. See particularly Paulinus of Nola, Ep. 5.22 (wine); 12.12 (freedman); 32.10-16 (decorations) (CSEL 29:39; 83-4; 285-291); Carm. 27.360-490; 28.28-59 (CSEL 30:278-84,292-3); Ep. 29.12 (CSEL 29:258-60) (visits offriends). Paulinus of No la, Carm. 20.1-21; 21.60,84-104,464-87; 27.135-47 (CSEL 30:1434,160-1,173-4, 268Ep. 5·15; 39·6 (CSEL 29:34-5,338). Carm. 21.198-343 (CSEL 30.2:164--9) describes Melania's visit in terms that have suggested to some that Paulinus was describing the site's permanent population. However, almost all of the cast of characters turn up in other places in other times, and it is almost certain this list of notables merely records the visitors at one natalicia in 400. See also Trout 1999, 128, 131. Trout 1995· Paulinus of No la, Carm. 28.62--94 (CSEL 30:294-5). On the correspondents ofPaulinus as members of the community, and vice-versa: Conybeare 2000, 27-30; Ebbeler 2001, 157-9. On Sulpicius and his life; Stancliffe 1983; Paulinus of Nola, Ep. 1 and 5 (CSEL 29: 1- 10, 24-39).
NOTES TO PP.
156-159
lO7. Location of Primuliacum; Stancliffe 1983, 30 n. 3; c.f. Fontaine 1967-9, 1.]240; property and ownership; Paulinus of Nola, Bp. I; 24.1 (CSEL 29:1-IO, 202). The later passage is ambiguous; either Suplicius ceded usufruct and retained the property, or ceded the property and retained the usufruct. Given his self-flagellation for retaining some of his properties, the former seems more likely. I08. Bassula; Paulinus of No la, Bp. 5.6, 19; 31.1 (CSEL 29:28,38,268). Stancliffe 1983, 3 I, hesitates over Bassula's actual role. I09· Paulinus of Nola, Bp. 27.3 (CSEL 29:239-40). 1IO. Paulinus of No la, Bp. 43.2 (harvest); 5.21 (wooden platters). (CSEL 29: 364-5, 389). Sulpicius Severus, Dial. 2(3).1 (aristocratic visitors) (CSEL 1:198-9). See also Stancliffe 1983, 33-7; Burrus 1995, 141-2. II 1. Described in Paulinus of No la, Bp. 3 I and 32 (CSEL 29:267-301). II2. Pietri 1983, lO2-12. II3. Paulinus of Nola, Bp. 31; ]2.7-8 (CSEL 29:267-'75, 282-4). On Rufinus, see Chapter 2. II4. Paulinus of Nola, Bp. 31.1 (CSEL 29:267): ... domestica tua ecclesia ... See also Trout 1999, 242. II 5. Cf. Prinz 1966; Lienhard 1977. For more nuanced evaluations of the relationship between early "monasteries" and households, addressing eastern examples, see Rousseau 2005; Cooper 2005. II6. Lorenz 1966, 3 I; Spinelli 1982; Trout 1999, 121-32. 117. Indeed, as has been long noted, the archaeological footprint of these protomonasteries would likely be indistinguishable from a rural villa: James 1981; Duval 1986; Cantino Wataghin 1997, 265; Percival 1997. II8. Fontaine 1974. II9· CTh 16.2·33 (398). 120. Council of Toledo C.5 (Mansi 3.999): ... in loco in quo ecclesia, aut castello, aut vico aut villa. 121. Sulpicius Severus, Dial. 2 (3).1 (CSEL 1:198---9). See also Stancliffe 1983, 32,36. 122. Markus 1979; Dossey 1998, 136-202. 123. Vita Melaniae 21 (Latin version, ed. Rampolla 1905,14). This passage appears only in the Latin version of the Vita. See also Augustine, Bp. 20*.10, 17 (CSEL 88:lO0, I03-4)· 124. The fifth and sixth-century codification includes NJ 57 (537), 58 (537), 123.18 (546); Council of Orleans (541), C.7 (CCL 148A: 133-4); and Gelasius, Bp. 41 (ed. Thiel 1868, 454). All of these confirmed an earlier tradition of permitting estate owners to nominate their own clergy; but now required the local bishop to approve their choice. The Chrysostom sermon is Horn. in Acta apost. 18.4-5 (PG 60:147-8). See also Thomas 1987, 25-'7. 125. See Chapter 1. 126. Fouet 1976; idem 1978; idem 1980; idem 1984; idem 1986; idem 1987; Fevrier 1996. 127. Deichmann 1939; Caillet 1996; Ward-Perkins 1999, Bayliss 2004, among many. 128. Maximus of Turin, Serm. lO5-18 (CCL 23: 414-23); Augustine, Bp. 56, 57 (CSEL 34.2:213-16), to the vir clarissimus Celer, urging him to convert his peasantry from paganism and Donatism. In Bp. 139 Celer seems to have at least tried to discourage Donatists. 129. Later, undifferentiated burials are found at Loupian, Centallo, Villa Fortunatus, Pueblanueva, La Cocosa, and perhaps Muline and Sizzano.
NOTES TO PP. 160-162
130. Andre 1956; Matthews 1974; Leach 1990; Riggsby 1998; Ebbeler 2001; idem forthcoming; and Chapter 1. 131. Fontaine 1972; Trout 1999, 200-18; Conybeare 2000; Mratschek-Halfinann 2002. On Christian letter writing generally; Fontaine 1972; Ebbeler 2001, 166-'7; idem forthcoming. 132. Paulinus of No la, Bp. 5.15-16; 11.12; 17 (CSEL 29:34-5, 70-1,125-8); Trout 1993. 133. Paulinus of Nola, Bp. 32·1; 9 (CSEL 29:275,284-5). 134. Conybeare 2000,31-40; Mratschek-Halfinann 2002,302-24. 135. Paulinus of Nola, Bp. 5.21 (CSEL 29:38--9); Conybeare 2000, 54--9. 136. For example, Paulinus of Nola, Bp. 5·15; 10.2-3; 11.12; 24.10-11; 39. (CSEL 29: 34-5, 58-60, 70-1, 210-12, 334--9)· 137. Fontaine 1972, 581-5; Schmid 1976; Roberts 1989, 24. 138. On desire and distance in letter-exchange; Ebbeler 2001, 106-59, esp. 166-7. 139. As noted by Rousseau 2002, 193-4. 140. Even this difference is matched by massive regionalism within the North African provinces. This section will lump these disparate territories into one "North African" whole. Obviously, this is methodologically problematic, as Horden and Purcell 2000, 65-74, clearly demonstrate. The excuse here is the need to cast the evidentiary net wide, for the evidence on the North African countryside is lamentably thin: see Mattingly and Hitchner 1995, and Leone and Mattingly 2004 for a state of the field. Many recent discussions of the rural landscape have centered on the impact of "native" versus foreign Roman economies and cultures: Shaw 1983; Fentress 1983; Leveau 1984, 487-500; Stone 1997, 106-10; Cherry 1998, 142-53. This brief sketch will steer clear of this issue. 141. Basic surveys of the North African economy include Mattingly 1988; idem 1995, 138-59; Raven 1993, 79--99; Leveau, Sillieres and Vallat 1993, 199-200; Ben Lazreg, et al. 1995; Reynolds 1995, 6-14, 40-60, 106-41; Barker et al. 1996, 1. 191-290. 142. Diminution of settlements in Mauretania Tingitana; Akerraz et al. 1995; Villaverde Vega 2001, 287; slight decline or continuity in Mauretania Caesariensis; Leveau 1984, 463-4; continuity through the late fifth century in Byzacena; Hitchner 1988; idem 1990; abandonment of open farms, construction of new fortifiedlinland sites in Tripolitania; Barker et al. 1996, 1.147-58; Cifani 2003; continuity or increase of sites beginning in later fourth century in Proconsularis; Dietz, Ladjimi Sebai: and Ben Hassen eds. 1995, 2.596-7, 776--95 with useful tables summarizing other field surveys. See generally Lepelley 1967; Leone and Mattingly 2004. 143. Peyras 1991, 394-'7; Sjostrom 1993, 85-7; Leveau, Sillieres and Vallat 1993,169-72; Mattingly 1995, 133-4; Barker et al. 1996, 1.II6-8, 140-1; Brogen and Smith 1984; Leveau 1984, 412-16. 144· Lepelley 1979, 1.132-4; Leveau 1984,493-4· 145. On the military archaeology ofTripolitania; Mattingly 1995, 68-102; 134-7; 186201; on Mauretania Caesariensis; Leveau 1984, 494-500; on Numidia; Fentress 1979; on Mauretania Tingitana; Villaverde Vega 2001,499-533. 146. For overviews; Leveau, Sillieres, and Vallat 1993, 162-9; Fevrier 1990, 1.85--95; for larger regional surveys; Hitchner 1988; idem 1990; Peyras 1991, 397-401; Dietz, Ladjimi Sebai:, and Ben Hassen 1995, 1.187-348; Barker et al. 1996; Cifani 2003, 402-4; summary of these surveys; Mattingly and Hitchner 1995; Leone and Mattingly 2004, 136-42. 147. Fortified farms in various areas; Goodchild 1950; Anselmino et al. eds. 1989; Welsby 1991; Sjostrom 1993, 81-5; 102-19; Leveau, Sillieres, and Vallat 1993, 167; Barker
273
NOTES TO PP.
I48. I49· I50. I5I. I52. I53. I54. I55· I56.
I57. I58. I59. I60. I6I.
I62. I63· I64. I65· I66. I67. I68. I69· I70. I7I. I72.
I73. I74.
r62-r65
et al. I996, I.I27-33, I55-8, I64-7; Cifani 2003,402. Many of the "forts" orJortins described in earlier antiquarian surveys were doubtless such farms: Fevrier I986, 88--92; 98-9· Kehoe I988, 207-I7. Peyras I975. Lepelley I994. Slaves: Garnsey I978, 235-7; coloni: Kehoe I988, 7I-II6; Neeve I984. Kehoe I988, I23-53; Cadsen I995. On the conductor oftheJundus Atifidianus, Peyras I975· On imperial estates; Crawford I976, 57--9; Kehoe I988. Vera I987; idem I99I. Mattingly I995, I4I; Leveau I984, 399-4IO, esp. 406; Cifani 2003, 40I-2. Goodchild I950; c.f. Fevrier I986, 99; Barker et al. I996, I.I27-33; 328-3I. On the mausolea occasionally associated with these villas; Fevrier I990, I.82; Ferchiou I995, II3-I 5· Kasserine: Hitchner I988; idem I990; Segermes: Dietz, Ladjirni Sebai, and Ben Hassen I995, I.I87-348, esp 37I; Caesarea: Leaveau I984, 404-7. Cemeteries: Barker et al. I996, I . I 42-'7; baths: Dietz, Ladjirni Sebai, and Ben Hassen I995, 36I-3· Duval I976a. Nabor: Anselrnino et al. eds. I989. Chris Wickham's new survey ofland-management techniques in the late empire suggests that North African domini took a greater, personal role in the management of their estates than their western colleagues: Wickham 2005, 265-80. However one interprets the relatively small and controversial body of texts that support this argument, the notion is not really confirmed by the material evidence, although again, the archaeology is sparse. See, for instance, Kehoe I988; Fevrier I990, 2.79-8I. Kehoe I988, 64--9. Kehoe I988, I88-223. ClL 8.27953; Gsell I9 I7, 332. ClL 8.II2I7. As noted by Kehoe I988, I88-2I5; Ligt I993, I76-85. Shaw I98I; Kehoe I988, 2I5-20; Ligt I993; Chaouali 2005. The evidence for these markets is focused in Proconsularis and Byzacena. Shaw I98I, 53-64. Gsell and pflaum I976, no. 6225; Ligt I993, I58; Kehoe I988, 202-3; 2I7. Caelestis Augusta temple: ClL 8.I64II=IL Tun. I568. For some of these villages and churches, see Gsell I9II with Gui I992; Berthier I 943; Morizot I 997, esp. 267-8. For an assessment of the problems in identifying estate churches in North Africa, see Leone 2006, I02-4. Duval I976a; Leveau I984, 407-8. Some, of many, possible examples include: Chafagi Aamer: Ward-Perkins and Goodchild I953, 50-4; Barker et al. I996, 2.289--9I; Souk el-Lhoti: Ward-Perkins I950; Ward-Perkins and Goodchild I953, 54-6; Welsby I99I; Barker et al. I996, I.206-'7; 2.62, 64, 66, 68--9; Azrou Zaoui'a: Gui I992, I7I-2, no. 59; Gsell I9II, (no. 27 Batna) near nO.29; Berthier I943, I38-4I, no. 54; Y. Duval I982, I.445, no. 235; Henchir el Baroud: Duval I993, 637; Mechira (two churches): Gui I992, I 90-2, no. 67; Gsell I9II, (no. I7 Constantine), near no. 368; Gsell and Graillot I894, 589--94; Tiffeltassine: Gui I992, I95-7, no. 70; Gsell I9II (no. I7
274
NOTES TO PP. 165-168
175.
176. 177.
178. 179.
180.
181. 182. 183. 184·
185. 186. 187. 188. 189. 190. 191. 192. 193. 194. 195.
196. 197.
Constantine), no. 369; Meharza (two churches): Gui 1992, 196-8, no. 71-2; Gsell 19II (no. 17 Constantine), no. 371; Rouis/Henchir Ouled Aluneda: Gui 1992, 303-4, no. 109; Gsell 19II (no. 40 Feriana), no. 10; Y Duval 1982, 1. 436, no. 218, 138-42, no. 64; AIn Zirara: Gui 1992, 324-6, no. II5; Gsell 19II (no. 28 Nne Beida), no. 36; CIL 8.17746; Y Duval 1982, 1.171-4; Bou Melika: Peyras 1991, IIO-I2, 428. The residential villa at Trois Hots was converted to agglomerated habitation when the church was constructed: Gui 1992, 18-19; Leveau 1984,249-53. This list is neither remotely complete nor are all of the listed examples unambiguously defined as estate churches. Dozens of other examples are certainly attested in the pages of Gui 1992; Gsell 19II, and Babelon, Cagnat, and Reinach 1892-1913, but without more precise indications of their settlements, their estate affiliation is impossible to determine. On the similar problems identifYing monastic complexes, see Duval 1986. For painted plaster at Chafagi Aamer, see Barker et al. 1996, 2.291. The exception is the church at Nn Zirara, which may have served a large nearby settlement and has mosaic floors, fine sculpture (albeit of local stone) and a silver reliquary: Gui 1992, no. II5, 324-6· Barker et al. 1996, 1.206-7. These chapels included the two at Mechira, and within a 10km radius, that at Tiffeltassine and two at Meharza. See above note 174 for bibliography. On Antonina Saturninus' nundina, see Ligt 1993, I 57-8. Augustine, De dv. D. 22.8 (CSEL 40.2:602-3). Gsell 19II (no. 27 Batna), no. 278; Dossey 1998, 188. On plebes as synonym for estate groups, as well as other settlement groups, see Augustine, Ep. 20*.13 (CSEL 88:102). Vita Melaniae 21 (Latin version, ed. Rampolla 1905, 14). Clark 1984, 145. Tengstrom 1964, 135-8. I am particularly indebted to the work of Leslie Dossey here: Dossey 1998. Augustine and seigniorial elite; Augustine, Ep. 46; 47; 56; 57; 89.8; II2·3; 209.5 (CSEL 34.2:123-36, 213-16, 424-5, 658--9; 57:349-50); country bishops; Lancel 1964; Markus 1979; Duval 1984; Sabw Kanyang 2000; Dossey 1998, 136-202. On rural demographics and episcopal ordinations, see Dossey 1998, 136-202. CSEL 1.252-3. The letter is reproduced and analyzed in Lepelley 1989. Augustine, Ep. 20* and Ep. 209 (CSEL 88:94-II2; CSEL 57:347-53). See also Chadwick 1983, 441-5; Frend 1983; Lancel 1983. Augustine Ep. 20*.17 (CSEL 88:103). Augustine Ep. 20*.10 (CSEL 88:100). That the domina ofThogonoetum did in fact veto the appointment is suggested by Ep. 20*.1O-II, 14 (CSEL 88:100-1,102). Augustine Ep. 209.5 (CSEL 57:350); PCBE 1.202-3. Dossey 1998, 192-5. Ep 20*.29-30 (CSEL 88:IIQ-II). Dossey 1998, 192-5· Council ofCarthage (345-8), C.I2 (CCL 149:9). So attractive were estate bishops that estates and villages seem to have nominated them without the permission of the bishop in whose diocese they lay: Council ofCarthage (390), C.5 (CCL 149:14). Augustine, Ep. 20*.19 (CSEL 88:100); Dossey 1998,195. Donatist landowner bishop Crispinus: Augustine, Ep. 66 (CSEL 34.2:235-6); C. lift. Petil. 2.83.184 (CSEL 52:II4); PCBE 1.252-3; Pammachius: Augustine, Ep. 58
275
NOTES TO PP.
198. 199. 200.
201. 202. 203.
204.
205.
206. 207.
208. 209· 210. 211.
212.
213.
214. 215. 216. 217. 218.
168-172
(CSEL 34.2: 216-19); Celer: Augustine, Bp. 56; 57 (CSEL 34.2:213-16). See also Bp. 89.8; 112 (CSEL 34.2:424-5, 657-(9). Council of Carthage 411, Edictum cognitoris 40-5 (CCL 149A:178); Augustine, Bp. 139.2 (CSEL 44:150-1). y. Duval 1982, 1.138-42. For the prohibition; Council of Carthage (345-8), c.8 (CCL 149A:7); Sabw Kanyang 2000, 67-72; for its implied concern about estate and other rural clergy; Leone 2006, 1000. Shaw 1981, 65-6. Augustine, De civ. D. 22.8. De civ. D. 22.8 (CSEL 40.2:596): ... haec [miracula] autem ubicumque fiunt, ibi sciuntur uix a tota ipsa ciuitate uel quocumque commanentium loco. "Northern Italy" is here used as shorthand for the fourth-century provinces of Aemilia et Liguria, and western Venetia et Histria, excluding the Adriatic coast. This amounts to more or less modern Lombardy and Piedmont. Some consideration is given to the area just to the west, near Geneva. Rossi 1987; Fortunati, Sibilia and Torre, 1988--9; Brogiolo 1991; Fortunati Zucdla 1992; Sena Chiesa 1990; Cantino Wataghin 1994; Ortalli 1996; De Franceschini 1998, 83-201; Spagnolo Garzoli 1998, 81-8; idem 2004; Mancassola and Saggioro 2000; Brogiolo and Chavarria 2005. On monumental villas; Scagliarini Corliata 1990a; idem 1990b; Roffia ed. 1997; De Franceschini 1998, 83-201. On the vici; Passi Pitcher ed. 1996 (vicus Bedriacum) Frondoni 2003 (Ligurian villages); Spagnolo Garzoli 1998, 70-81; idem, 2004,101-5 (Piedmont); Mancassola and Saggioro 2000 (Lombardy); and generally, Brogiolo and Chavarria 2005,23-30. On the vicus Ariciagi, see Gasperini 1996. The classic, although now somewhat dated study is Cracco Ruggini 1961,23-152. For a summary overview of the archaeological picture, see Sena Chiesa 1990. Lizzi 1989; idem 1990; McLynn 1994, 276-90. See Lizzi 1989, esp. 97-137, 171-209; Dal Cavalo 2002. Gaudentius, Tract. 13.23,28 (CSEL 68:120-1,122); Maximus of Turin, Serm. 42.1; 63.2; 91; 98.2; 105-8 (CCL 23:169, 266-7, 369, 390-1, 414-23); c.f. Zeno of Verona, Tract. 1.25.10-11 (CCL 22:75). Maximus of Turin, Serm. 107.1 (CCL 23:420): Nec se aliquis excusatum putet dicens: 'Non iussi fieri, non mandaui.' Quisquis enim intellegit in re sua exerceri sacrilegia nec fieri prohibet, quodammodo ipse praecepit .... Tu igitur, frater, cum tuum sacrificare rusticum cernis nec prohibes immolare, peccas ... On the date of these four sermons, Mutzenbecher ed. 1962, xxxv. See now Sotinel 1997; idem 2006, for the very little we know of these prelates, in part due to their own low profiles and probably modest status. For a new assessment of the relative marginalization of even the Aquileian episcopate in the doctrinal disputes of the era, see Sotinel 2005, 11 1-69. Sotinel 2005, 99, on fourth-century Aquileia: "une christianisme timide ... " Sannazaro 1992, 61-4; Cantino Wataghin 2000,210-11; Pant6 and Pejrani Baricco 2001, 49. Sannazaro 1980, seems to attribute to bishops a somewhat greater role. Vigilius of Trent, Bp. I and 2 (PL 13:549C-558); on the event and its aftermath; Lizzi 1989, 59-96. Sannazaro 1992, 64. S. Giulio d'Orta: Brogiolo, Cantino Wataghin and Gelichi 1999, 495 and for a catalog of other examples.
NOTES TO PP. 172-175
219. Brogiolo, Cantino Wataghin and Gelichi 1999, 533-538; Pejrani Baricco 2003, 70-9· 220. 221. 222. 223.
224.
225. 226.
227.
228. 229.
230. 231. 2]2. 233. 234. 235. 236. 237. 238. 239. 240. 241.
Sannazaro 1994,291-9. Violante 1982. As noted by Brogiolo, Cantino Wataghin and Gelichi 1999, 534. For bibliography on Palazzo Pignano; Vandoeuvres, Centallo and Sizzano, see above notes 70, 49, 74 and 38, respectively. Desana: Panto 2000; Panto and Pejrani Baricco 2001,30-6; Ambrosini and Panto 2004; Villaro di Ticineto: Negro Ponzi 1980; idem 1982; Gareri Caniati 1980; idem 1985; Saint-Julien-en-Genevois: Colardelle 1977; idem 1995; Bertrandy, Chevrier, and Serralogue 1999, 309-10. As noted by many others, with certain regional caveats. For Piedmont; Cantino Wataghin 1999,45; Panto and Pejrani Baricco 2001, 49; for Lombardy more generally; Sannazaro 1992; for the whole of northern Italy: Brogiolo, Cantino Wataghin and Gelichi 1999, 531-5; for the area around Geneva; Terrier 2005. Brogiolo and Chavarria 2003, 9-12, are more cautious, noting only that churches of this period clung to earlier settlements, like villas, but note that it is rarely possible to know their specific status. Brogiolo, Catino Wataghin and Gelichi 1999, 528-9 have noted that modest size and plan are characteristic of the first probable parish churches as well. On the basis of this material, Passi Pitcher 1990, has suggested Palazzo Pigano was a bishop's estate. Cantino Wataghin 1994, 145 disagrees and ascribes the church to a high Lombard functionary. On the presence of cathedrae in non-episcopal rural churches; Chevalier 1996, 2.121. Palazzo Pignano's toponym has suggested to some that it was the property of Valerius Pinianus, husband of Melania the Younger: Mirabella Roberti 1965, 84-5. Others have posited a functionary responsible for the fiscal region of the "Insula Fulcheria": Ambrosioni and Lusuardi Siena 1986. On the later epigraphy, see Sannazaro 2003. In or adjacent to Turin: Centallo; in or adjacent to Vercelli: Desana, Villaro di Ticineto, Sizzano. Palazzo Pignano probably lay in the diocese ofBergamo or Lodi Vecchio, not far from Brescia. Sotinel 1997, 196-7· Lizzi 1989, 109-]2; idem, 1990, 166-7. Lizzi 1990, although she takes a more pessimistic view of the success of the bishopdomini partnership. Black 1987; Hingley 1989; Miles 1989; Millett 1990, 91-9. Black 1987, 41-3; Esmonde Cleary 1989, 47-50,100-16; Millett 1990, 186-2II; Dark 2000, 17; Scott 2000, 77-112. Johnson 1982, 33-56; Scott 2000, among many. Millett 1990, 165-'74· Millett 1990, 195-6. Esmonde Cleary 1989,131-61; Faulkner 2000,71-2,144-5,148. See, in general, Dark 2000, idem 2004, 285-6; on villas; Black 1987, 46; on silver; Painter 1999. Esmonde Cleary 1989, 100-5; Millett 1990. On the creation of an increasingly competitive economy, see Reece 1979; Millett
1990, 168-74, 203-4· 242. Fulford 1989; idem 2007. 243. AmmianusMarcellinus 18.2·3 (ed. Seyfarth 1978,134); Libanius, Or. 18.82-3 (Loeb, 330-2); Zosimus, Hist. Nov. 3.5.2 (ed. Paschoud 1971-89, 2.1.14-15).
277
NOTES TO PP.
175-178
244. Thomas 198 I is still the fundamental study of Christianity in Roman Britain. See also Frend 1955;Jones 1996, 178-84; Dark 2000; Mawer 1995; Petts 2003. Esmonde Cleary analyzes the same evidence and finds the glass rather more full than empty, postulating a church as wealthy and systematized as that in Gaul: Esmonde Cleary 1989, 121-28. 245. The three bishops from London, York and probably Lincoln, are listed as attending the council of Arles: CCL 148:16. The Lincoln bishop (Colonia Londinensium) is sometimes read as Colchester. British prelates are reported by Athanasius at the councils of Nicea and Sardica: Athanasius, Bp. Jov. 2 (PG:26:816C); Apol. contra Arianos I (PG 25B:249A). However, no British bishops appear in the episcopal lists of these councils and Athanasius may have spuriously included bishops from this farthest province to exaggerate his own claims. Thomas 1981, 193-4, reconstructs 25 total bishops on the assumption that all civitas capitals and major towns must have had a bishop. 246. Calculations for North Africa; Thomas 1981, 193-4; for Italy; calculated from Lanzoni 1923 (c.89 bishops known from 465 A.D.). 247. Sulpicius Severus, Chron. 2.41 (CSEL 1:94). 248. Thomas 1981, 168-80. 249. Richborough: E Brown 1971; Silchester: Frere 1975; c.f. King 1983; Icklingham: West and Plouviez 1976. 250. For the hoard and its context, see Painter 1977b; idem 1999. 251. The connection has long been noted: Frend 1955, 7; Painter 1971; Thomas 1981, 180-3; 213; Dark 2000, 17-18; Knight 2005. However, Todd's recent suggestion (Todd 2005, 310) that the western British landed aristocracy was largely Christianized seems to exaggerate what is still a limited corpus of data. Although the majority oflocallandowners were undoubtedly pagan for some time, Dark's notion of an increasingly Christian peasantry clashing with a pagan aristocracy beginning in the early fifth century likewise strikes me as unconvincing: Dark 2004, 289--91. On rural paganism in the fourth century; Frend 1955; Millett 1990, 195-6; Scott 2000, 129-30. 252. I do not include here the alleged "baptisteries" at Lufton, Holcome or Dewlish, the "Christian meeting halls" at Frampton and Hinton St. Mary, or the monastery of Llandough which, to my mind, have either insufficient evidence of Christian ritual function, or insufficient evidence for a villa. See respectively Todd 2005, c.f. Henig 2006; Perring 2003; Knight 2005. Thanks to Adam Gutteridge for bringing these articles to my attention. 253. See above note 29 for bibliography. 254. Corney 2004. Mark Corney kindly discussed this site with me and shared photographs and plans prior to their publication. 255. Goodburn 1979, 24; Thomas 1981,219-20. 256. Thanks to Martin Henig for sharing information on Wigginton prior to its publication. 257. Thomas 1981, 220-5; Guy 1981. 258. Henig and Booth 2003,44, 88, 145-'7. 259. c.f. Henig 2006. 260. Mawer 1995, 141, 151. 261. The Hoxne Treasure was found in Suffolk and included domestic silver, jewelry, as well as over 14,700 coins. While the immediate area has failed to yield clues as to its context, at least part of the treasure may have belonged to the Aurelius Ursicinus
NOTES TO PP.
262.
263. 264. 265. 266.
267. 268.
269. 270. 271. 272. 273.
274· 275.
276. 277.
278. 279.
178-181
named on some of the pieces: Bland andJohns 1993; Leader-Newby 2004,74. The Mildenhall treasure was found in Norfolk near what may have been bath house and is likewise assumed to have represented a wealthy home's domestic silver: Painter 1977a. However, it is interesting to note that neither in Suffolk nor in Norfolk were large luxury villas seemingly very common. Toynbee 1963; idem 1964; idem 1968; Huskinson 1974; Scott 2000, 155-60. Mosaics with crypto-Christian insignia have been proposed elsewhere, but the interpretations are unconvincing. As cult sites, see Toynbee 1968, 185; Petts 2003, 78-83; as dining rooms, see the cautious assessement ofScott 2000, 163. For instance, Henig 1997; Perring 2003. Scott 2000, 164-5, contra Henig 2006; Brenk 2003,73-74. This section reproduces sections of Bowes 2005b. Southwestern Gaul here constitutes the fourth-century provinces of Aquitaine, Novempopulania and N arbonensis 1. Hispania: Gorges 1979, 48-55, corrected and expanded by Chavarna 2oo7a; Aquitaine: Balmelle 2001. Theodosius: Zosimus, Hist. Nov. 4.24.4 (ed. Paschoud 1971-89, 2.2. 286-7); Pan. Lat. 12.9 (ed. Baehrens 1911,96-7); Nummius Aemilianus Dexter: PLRE 1.251; Maternus Cynegius: PLRE 1:235-6; Matthews 1967; the Pontii: PLRE 1.681-3. See also Balmelle 2001, 37-53. Arce 1993; Chavarna 2005, 539-44. Cerrillo 1984; Arino Gil and Diaz 2002; Balmelle 2001, 54-81; Reynolds 2005; Diaz and Menendez-Bueyes 2005, 277; Chavarria 2oo7a. On the relatively modest wealth of Hispano-Roman elites, Arce 1997, 112-18. Fernandez-Ochoa and Morillo 2005. For general considerations of rural, estate-based Christianity in this region, see Palol 1967; Fernandez Castro 1981; Garcia Moreno 1991; idem 1992; Cerrillo 1995; Hauschild 1995; Bowes 2001; Bowes 2oo5b; Vergain 2006; Chavarna 2oo7a. Villa-churches and Christian mausolea include: Villa Fortunatus, Pueblanueva, La Cocosa, Marialba, Sulpicius Severus' complex at Primuliacum. Possible examples include Carranque, La Alberca. The basilica of Loupian is adjacent to the region. For bibliography and description of individual sites, see above notes 34, 43, 46, 80, 106-107, 58, 54 and 72, respectively. Joulin 1900; Boube 1996; Vergain 2006, 394· See Paulinus of Nola, Ep. 31,32 (CSEL 29:267-301); Stancliffe 1983, 30-8. Paulinus at one point fantasizes about the young children who will swell the ranks of the Elders through their baptism, but contra Pietri 2005, 235, this strikes me as generalized rhetoric, not explicit proof for a primary proselytic impulse. As noted by Brogiolo and Chavarna 2003, 19-28. At Seviac, a possible baptismal chapel is probably sixth century in date, as are the basilicas at the villas of Torre de Palma, El Saucedo, Las Tamujas, while the earlier churches/mausolea/martyria at Fortunatus, La Cocosa and Marialba received baptisteries at approximately this time. Seviac: Lapart and Paillet 1991; idem 1986; Torre de Palma: Maloney 1995; Maloney and Hale 1996; El Saucedo: Bendala Galan, Castelo Ruano and Arribas 1998; Castelo Ruano et al. 1999; Las Tamujas: Palomeque Torres 1955; idem 1963. On long-distance Christian communities, see Conybeare 2000. On cities in late Roman Hispania, see now Kulikowski 2004.
279
NOTES TO PP.
182-184
280. Bowes 2005b, 235-7; Duchesne 1900-15, 2. The calculations for the Gallic provinces used the attested bishops from the above-mentioned provinces, plus Cahors and Riez (14), divided by the combined area of modern Aquitaine, MidiPyrenees and Languedoc-Roussillon. Bishops attested only in the Notita Galliarum were not counted as they represent a later situation: Harries 1978. For comparison, Italy probably had one bishop for every 3,400krn2. 281. Vilella Masana 2002; Fevrier and Gonsalves 1996; Barraud 1996 for an overview of the prosopography. The situation in Aquitania/Novempopulania differs from those other areas of Gaul in which aristocrats quickly joined the episcopate: Heinzelmann 1976. 282. Fontaine 1997. 283. Pacianus of Barcelona, Ep. 1.7.2 (PL 13:1057C-1058A); Ad poenitentiam, I (PL 13:108IC-D). 284. For a survey of the evidence, see Godoy Fernandez 1995; Maciel 1996; Bowes 2005b. 285. Saint-Seurin: Duru 1996. La Daurade: Scelles 1996; Barcelona: Granados 1995; Godoy Fernandez 1995, 206-7; Bonnet and Beltran de Heredia Bercero 1999; idem 2000. The site's identification is controversial. Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges; Guyon and Paillet 1996. 286. On parish development, see Boudartchouk 2005; Faravel 2005; Ripoll and Velazquez 1999. It is notable, too, the particularly strong coincidence in these areas between possible later parish church construction and earlier villas. 287. The bibliography on Priscillian is vast: Chadwick 1978; Fontaine 1980; Van Dam 1985, 88-II4; Escribano Pano 1988; idem 2002; idem 2005; Breyfogle 1995; Burrus 1995; Vilella Masana 1997; Ferreiro 1998, among many. 288. While Gallaecia is often given as Priscillian's home base, the origins of the conflict were in Baetica and Lusitania and it is here that his support network was probably most powerful. See Chadwick 1978, II and Escribano Pano 1988, 184. 289. Burrus 1995, 6-14. 290. On his followers, see Sulp. Sev. Chron. 2.46 (CSEL 1:99-100). Earlier studies interpreted Priscillian's broad support base as evidence of a class movement: Barbero de Aguilera 1963. A more recent account finds the movement's appeal in the interstices between ecclesiastical and elite power: Cracco Ruggini 1997, 41. 291. Fontaine 1980. 292. On the rural flavor ofPriscillianism, see Chadwick 1978, 17-19; Breyfogle 1995, c.f. Van Dam 1985, 91; Escribano Pano 1988, 205-6; idem, 1995,273, who emphasize the movement's urban base. 293. Rural prayer meetings and processions; Council ofZaragoza C.2, 3, 4 (Mansi 3:6345); women: Council of Zaragoza, C.I (Mansi 3:633-4); Council of Toledo, c.6, 9 (Mansi 3:999-1000); Euchrotia: PLRE 1.289; Urbica: PLRE 1.983; Green 1991, 328. See also Burrus 1995; Breyfogle 1995. 294. Bowes 2001, 337-8. 295. For an exacting discussion of these courtroom battles, see Escribano Pano 1988. 296. Interpretations stressing the controversy's doctrinal issues include Chadwick 1978; Ferreiro 1998; Escribano Pano 2005. Those stressing issues of power include Escribano Pano 1995; Van Dam 1985, 90-103; Garcia Moreno 1991,234; Cracco Ruggini 1997· 297. Augustine, Ep. II* (CSEL 88:51-70). On the date, see Kulikowski 2000, 137--9. 298. Van Dam 1986. 299. Augustine, Ep. II*.2 (CSEL 88: 52-4).
280
NOTES TO PP.
184-186
300. While one reading claims that the letter is simply a patchwork borrowed from romance and hagiography (Moreau 1983), most scholars have accepted that the basics of the tale are probably true, but perhaps heavily ornarnented: Kulikowski 2000. 301. Garcia Moreno 1991,237. 302. On Coscojuela, see Fernandez-Galiano 1987,65-6. 303. Council of Zaragoza C.2 (Mansi 3.634): ... nec habitent latibula cubiculorum, ac montium ... et ad alienas villas agendorum conventuum causa nonconveniant. 304. Council of Zaragoza C.4 (Mansi 3:634-5): ... nec latere in domibus, nec secedere ad villam, nec montes petere ... 305. Garcia Iglesias 1980, suggested that many of the canons of Zaragoza, including C.4, reflected broader concerns. See also Fontaine 1980; Diaz y Diaz ~980. 306. Fontaine 1980; Stancliffe 1983. 307. Ausonius, Bp. 4.17-34 (ed. Green 1991, 196). 308. Lienhard 1977, 51, c.f. Fontaine 1972. 309. Paulinus of Nola, Bp. 1.10 (CSEL 29:8-9). 310. Jerome, Bp. 75.4 (CSEL 55:33). The extra-local direction of their euergetism marks a significant departure from classical modes of giving, contra Castillo Maldonado 2005, 337. 3 I I. Sulpicius Severus, Dial. 1.2.2 (CSEL I: I 54): ... quia in his regionibus inter ista quae uiumus ipsa nobis uita fastidio est, lib enter ex te audiemus, si uel in eremo uiuere Christianis licet. See also Stancliffe 1983,290-2. 312. Vigilantius: His letter is not preserved, but can be reconstructed from Jerome, Bp. 58.II; 61; 109 (CSEL 54:540-1; 575-82; CSEL 55:351-6), and C. Vigil. (CCL 79C). See Massie 1980 for the identification of his see as Saint-Bertrand-de-Comrninges. Jerome gives it as Calagurris, where he says Vigilantius was born, but Calagurris is only a mansio while the capital of the region and its bishopric was Saint-Bertrand. See also Hunter 1999; Stancliffe 1983, 301-7; Trout 1999, 220-3· 3 13· Jerome, C. Vigil. 15 (CCL 79C:28): Si omnes se reclauserint et fuerint in solitudine, quis celebrabit ecclesias, Quis saeculares homines lucrifaciet ... ? 314. Council of Valence (374), C.4 (CCL 148:40). See also Chadwick 1978, 14· 315. These are the two letters bound in Codex Sangallensis 190, published by Morin 1928, and printed in PL Suppl. 1.1038-44. Given the discussion of a three-week Epiphany retreat in the second letter and its close parallels in the fourth canon of the council of Zaragoza (380), Morin assigned them to a late fourth- or early fifth-century Spanish context and attributed them to the hand of the fourth-century ascetic Bachiarius. Given the fairly clear female authorial hand, Morin's attribution to Bachiarius has been contested and the letters more correctly ascribed to an anonymous woman or women of the same time. See Burrus and Keefer 2000. It should be noted, however, that the problem of Epiphanic absences from church is also addressed in canon 21 of the Council of Agde (506) (CCL 148: 202-3). It might therefore be best to broaden the letter's specific attribution from a late fourth-century Spanish provenance to a wider, fourth- through sixth-century Hispano-Gallic context. For the suggestion of a Pelagian context, see Cooper 1998, 38-9. 316. PL Suppl. 1:1040: ... intra secretam monasterii cellulam ... 3 17· PL Suppl. I: 1043: ... patrum et pontificum cum observationibus suis finita generatio est ... Trans. Burrus and Keefer 2000. 318. PL Suppl. 1:1043: Et intellegat quia ipsi Symeon causam mortis vagandi per civitates cura generavit, qui nequaquam inimicorum patuisset insidiis, si in hoc mense possessionis suae secreta servasset. Trans. Burrus and Keefer 2000.
281
NOTES TO PP.
I88-I93
319. Heresy as intrinsic to the countryside; Frend 1967; idem 1972; asceticism and episcopal discontent; Stancliffe 1983,265-77,289-312; Brown 1988, 357; Caner 2002; Hunter 2003.
CHAPTER
4.
IDEOLOGIES OF THE PRIVATE: PRIVATE CULT AND THE CONSTRUCTION OF HERESY AND SANCTITY
1. Canons of the council are reproduced in Mansi 3:633-5. On the council more generally see the articles collected in I Concilio Caesaraugustano. MDC Aniversario (Zaragoza: 1980). 2. On the council's broader brief, Diaz y Diaz 1980; Garcia Iglesias 1980. 3. Council ofZaragoza, C.l, 2, 4 (Mansi 3:634-5). 4. Council ofZaragoza, C.3 (Mansi 3:634). Repeated at the Council of Toledo (c-4oo), C.13, 14 (Mansi 3.1000). 5. Gregory Nazianzen, Or. 8 (SC 405:246-98). On the date and contents of the oration, see Calvet-Sebasti 1995, 54-82. 6. Gregory Nazianzen, Or. 8.12 (SC 405:272): ... O:AAEv TC'i")KPV1TT0 KaAWS EyEwpyEI T0 !3AEITOVTI TO: KPVITTO: TT]V EVcyE!3EIOV. Paraphrasing Mt 6.4.6. 7. Gregory Nazianzen, Or. 8.18 (SC 405:284): ... EITl TOV TI(lVTc.0V iOTPOV KOTOEVYEI ... ,C.f. Mt 4.23. The passage has been frequendy interpreted as alluding to a private church: Calvet-Sebasti 1995, 285 n. 2. 8. Again the passage's meaning is somewhat obscure, describing the bread and wine as the O:VTITVITO. See Calvet-Sebasti 1995, 286 n.2. 9. For two general overviews of the problem, see now Bowes 2oo5a; Maier 2005. 10. On the role of bishops in soliciting imperial legislation to deal with both local and regional problems; Grey 1993; Humfress 2000, 127. 11. For the problem generally, see Maier 199 5a, although my conclusions differ from his in significant ways. 12. CTh 16.5.3 (372): ... domus et habitacula, in quibus profana institutio docetur ... For a discussion of homes as sites of heretical accusation in Rome, see Maier 1995b. 13· Augustine, Retract. 1.7 (6) (CCL 5TI8-21); Hunter 1987, 53-4; CTh 16.5.18 (389); 16.5. 19 (3 89). 14. CTh 16.5.40 (407). It is not clear whether the "Priscillianists" were followers of the Spanish Priscillian, or more likely, another term for Montanists: De Giovanni 1980, 104. 15. The conflict is described in Libellus precum (CCL 69:361-92); on Ephesius, idem, 84, 104-'7 (CCL 69:380, 385-6); on the controversy as it played out in Rome; Lippold 1964. 16. Libellus precum, 78-82. (CCL 69:378-80). 17. CTh 16.5.40 (407); 16.5.43 (407). A variety oflater edicts, some of which again mention private houses, also ban Priscillianists: 16·5·48 (C.41O); 16.5.59 (423); 16.5.65 (428). Again, it is not clear whether these "Priscillianists" are alleged followers of the Spanish Priscillian or Montanists. 18. Escribano Pano 2005. 19. Ambrose, Luc. 7.31 (CCL 14:225). 20. Ambrose, Bp. extra coli. 5[11].3 (CSEL 82.3:184): ... nunc ante synagogae fores, nunc in Arrianorum dornibus rniscens occulta consilia et suos iugens ... 21. For the possibility that Ursinus supported the anti-Damasan rigorists; Green 1971; for the problems with Ambrose' accusation more generally; McLynn 1994, 58-9.
NOTES TO PP.
193-195
22. CTh 16.5.8 (381): Nullum Eunomianorum atque Arrianorum vel ex dogmate Aeti in civitate vel agris fabricandarum ecclesiarum copiam habere praecipimus. Quod si temere ab aliquo id praesumptum sit, domus eadem, ubi haec constructa fuerint, quae construi prohibentur, fundus etiam vel privata possessio protinus fisci nostri viribus vindicetur ... 23. CTh 16.5.9 (382); 16·5·II (383); 16.5.12 (383); 16.5.13 (384); 16.5.14 (388); 16.5.15 (3 88). 24. CTh 16.5.30 (396): ... sive sub ecclesiarum nomine teneantur sive quae diaconica appellantur vel etiam decanica, sive in privatis domibus vellocis huiusmodi coetibus copiam praebere videantur ... 25. Apollinarians: CTh 16.5.33 (397). John Chrysostom's followers: CTh 6·4·6 (404); 16.2·37 (404). 26. On the council ofLaodicea, including its contested date and circumstances; Hefele 1907-52, 1.2: 989-95; on God-Fearers; Mitchell 1999, esp. 123 on the council of Laodicea. 27. Council of La odice a c.26, 58 (Mansi 2:567, 574). 28. On Eustathius; Gribomont 1967 and see above, Chapter 2, note 409. On the date of the council of Gangra, Gribomont advocates the earlier date, while Barnes 1989, suggests the latter. 29. Council of Gangra, c.6 (Mansi 2:IIOI). Trans. Hefele 1872-96. On the council; Hefele 1907-52, 1.2:1029-32; on Eustathius and the council; Gribomont 1967; Elm 1994, 106-II; Caner 2002, 99-100, 153-4. 30. Council of Gangra, synodicalletter (Mansi 2:416). 31. CTh 16.5.3 (372); 16·5·8 (381); 16.5.9.1 (382); 16·5·II (383); 16.5.12 (383); 16.5.14 (388); 16.5-21 (392); 16·5· 30 (396); 16·5·33 (397); 16·5·34 (39 8); 16·5·36 (399); 16.5.40 (407); 16.5.52.1 (412); 16.5.54.6 (414); 16·5·57·1 (415); 16·5·65·3 (435); 16.5.66.2 (435); 16.6.4. 1; 16·7·3 (383). On the anti-heresy edicts generally, see De Giovanni 1980, 81-106. 32. Gnostics; Eusebius, Vit. Const. 3.65.1 (ed. Winkelmann 1975, II8): 510 Kol IT(XVTOS ViJWV TOUS O'iKOVS, EV oTs TO: OVVE5pla TOIJTO TTATJPo(hE, 0:<palpE6f)vaI TTPOO'ETCx~O iJEV, iJEXpl TOOOIlTOV Tf)S
NOTES TO PP.
195-198
37. See also Bowes 2005a. 38. Jerome Bp. 41.1 (CSEL 54:3II); Augustine, De peccato originali, 3.3 (CSEL 42:168); Dagron 1970, respectively. 39. On public-private in Roman homes; Wallace-Hadrill 1994, critiqued by Allison 1997, II9-21; Grahame 2000; Zaccaria Ruggiu 1995. See also Thebert 1987; Baldini Lippolis 2002; Hales 2003. On their moral topography; Riggsby 1997; Sessa 2007. 40. For the quote, see Frankfurter 2005. 41. Humfress 2000; Humfress 2007. Thanks to Caroline Humfress for sharing her working prior to publication. On the general paucity of Roman laws regulating the religious activities of individuals; North 1979, 85; Phillips 1991; for a summary of the laws and legal cases specifically regulating magia; Massonneau 1934, 136-232. 42. On the place of religio among those subjects addressed by the ius publicum see Ulpian, Dig. I. I. I .2; on the opposition between superstitio and humanitas promulgated by the Roman state; Gordon 1990b; on the changing meaning of superstitio vis-a-vis the state; Grodzynski 1974. 43. See De Giovanni 1980, 82-3, 105-6; Humfress 2000, 131-42; Puglisi 1990. 44. For a general overview of sources which associated maleficium and superstitio with private acts, see Kippenberg 1997 and Chapter I. 45. FIRA 1:241: Sacra in oquoltod ne quisquam fecise uelet; neue in poplicod neue in/ preiuatod neue extrad urbem sacra quisquam fecise uelet, nisei/ pr(aitorem) urbanum adieset ... See also Massonneau 1934, 151-8. 46. Eusebius, Vit. Const. 3.65.1 (ed. Winkelmann 1975, II8) (on the Gnostics); CTh 16.5.9.1 (382) (on the Manicheans). 47. Tiberian edict: Suetonius, Tib. 63 (ed. Ihm 1962, 146; trans. Loeb): Haruspices secreta ac sine testibus consuli uetuit. Augustan edict: Dio Cassius 56.25.5 (ed. and trans. Loeb).: Kcd TOIS I-l6:VTEcnv 6:7T11Y0PEV6Tl I-l-rlTE KaTO: I-lovas T1V! I-l-rlTE TIEP! 6av6:Tov, I-lTlO av aA71.01 aVI-lTTapWalv 01, xpav. 48. CTh 9.16.2 (319): Haruspices et sacerdotes et eos, qui huic ritui adsolent ministrare, ad privatam domum prohibemus accedere vel sub praetextu arnicitiae limen alterius ingredi, poena contra eos proposita, si contempserint legem. Cf. CTh 9.16.1 (319). 49. Minucius Felix, Octavius 9.2,5-6,10.1-2 (CSEL 2:13,14). 50. For a reproduction of the inscription and discussion of its find-spot, see Gordon 1983, 83-5· 51. See, for instance, on the Bacchic senatus consultum, North 1979, 90-1. 52. On the former, De Giovanni 1980, 88. 53. CTh 16.5·3 (372) (trans. Pharr 1969): Ubicumque Manichaeorum conventus vel turba huiusmodi repperitur, doctoribus gravi censione multatis his quoque qui conveniunt ut infamibus atque probrosis a coetu hominum segregatis, domus et habitacula, in quibus profana institutio docetur, fisci viribus indubitanter adsciscantur. 54. On the tenor and innovations within the Theodosian period anti-heretical corpus, see Berger 1955; Puglisi 1990. 55. CTh 16.5.12 (383) (trans. Pharr 1969, with corrections): Vitiorum institutio deo atque hominibus exosa, EunorIDana scilicet, Arriana, Macedoniana, Apollinariana ceterarumque sectarum, quas verae religionis venerabili cultu catholicae observantiae fides sincera condemnat, neque publicis neque privatis aditionibus intra urbium adque agrorum ac villarum loca aut colligendarum congregationum aut constituendarum ecclesiarum copiam praesumat ... Eaedem quoque domus, seu in urbibus seu in quibuscumque locis ... fisci nostri dominio iurique subdantur ... 56. On the act of naming and categorization as fundamental to both the definition and prosecution of heretics, see now Cameron 2003b.
NOTES TO PP.
198-203
57. See CTh 16.5.7.3 (381). On dissimulation as characteristic of heretics and transparency to orthodoxy, see Burrus 1999. 58. Ambrose, Luc. 7.31 (CCL 14:225). 59. CTh 16.5.11 (383) (trans Pharr, with corrections): Ornnes omnino, quoscumque diversarum haeresum error exagitat ... nec ad imaginem ecclesiarum parietes privatos ostendant ... On all of these groups' ascetic tendencies; Barone-Adesi 1986; De Giovanni 1980, 100-1. In another edict Manichean houses are said to be actually sepulera: CTh 16.5.7.3 (381). 60. Le Boulluec 1985. 61. On women particularly as a hereseological trope; Burrus 1991; idem 1995; on the magician; Brown 1970; Frankfurter 1997; on the problem generally, including a . consideration of "the private"; see Frankfurter 2005. 62. On the heretic's placement ofhim or herself outside the institutions of the civitas; CTh 16.5.3 (372); CTh 16.5.14 (388); Humfress 2007. 63. On alieni; Council of Zaragoza, C.I, 2 (Mansi 3:633-4); Council of Toldeo, c.6 (Mansi 3 :999). On earlier Christian domuslfamilia ideology, see Chapter I. 64. Sozomen, Hist. Beel. 7.5 (PG 67:1425B-C); Maier 1995a, 54. 65. Op. imp. Mat. (PG 56:611--946). For its date and context, see Banning 1987; CCL 87B: v-viii. 66. Op. imp. Mat. Hom. 26 (PG 56:770-1). 67. Op. imp. Mat. Hom. 43, 47 (PG 56:876, 898). 68. For an overview of the circumstances surrounding Hilary's composition of Contra Auxentium, see Williams 1992. 69. C. Aux. 3 (PL 1O:6I1A): Illi manu atque opere se alentes, intra coenacula secretaque coeuntes, vicos et castella gentesque fere ornnes terra ac mari contra senatusconsulta et regum edicta peragrantes, claves, credo, regni coelorum non habebant? c.f. CTh 16.5. 12 (3 83). 70. A recent study has even suggested that Priscillian and his followers in Hispania, who were also attacked for their private rituals, were part of this same movement: Escribano Patio 2005. 71. Libellus preeum, 121 (CCL 69:390): Liceat saltem ueritati uel inter ipsa uilissima et abiecta praesepia Christum Deum pie colere ac fideliter ado rare, ubi et aliquando natus secundum carnem idem Christus infans iacere dignatus est. 72. Libellus preeum 107-8 (CCL 69:386-7). 73. Libellus preeum 108 (CCL 69:387): Sed et singulis quibusque tendit insidias, qui nobiscumsacrae communionis consortio copulantur, ueluti nefas obiciens ex lege ilia Babyloniae, quod intra nostra domicila sine labe haereseos et sine communione perfidiae secundum euangelicas et apostolicas traditiones desiderantibus fidelibus diuina sacramenta celebremus. Simili enim furore et quondam Babyloniae sanctum Danihelum hostilibus odiis insecuti sunt, quod in sua domo Deum obseruantia diuinae legis adoraret. 74. For the fundamental realignment of this paradigm by Augustine, particularly in his later thought, see Markus 1990,45-83; Leyser 2000,4-19. 75. "Flight from men;" Apophthegmata patrum, Anthony 33, Theodore of Phermes 5 (SC 387:148; 108); seeretus, solitudo, and otium negotiosum and their antecedents in Stoic thought; Fontaine 1972, 584. 76. Elm 1994,15-18. Elm's brief is, in part, to see beyond the male-constructed tropes of public and private to women's actual ascetic pursuits. I am interested here only to examine the tropes themselves and the ideologies used to construct them. That is, I have tried to maintain my discussion at the level of text and rhetoric, sidestepping
NOTES TO PP.
77. 78.
79.
80. 81. 82. 83.
84. 85. 86. 87.
88.
89.
90. 91.
92.
203-205
questions of praxis. For a consideration of the difficulties involved in probing beneath language to find praxis in these particular sources, see Clark 1994; idem 1998. On the male author and the construction of the virtuous female: Cooper 1996; Clark 1998. I am interested here specifically in the rhetorical function of actual physical homes, and only tangentially in the metaphorical construction of the virginal body as closed domestic space. For an overview of the evidence in the East, see Elm 1994. She tends to read many of the sources considered here as already manifesting a break away from this domestic rhetoric towards a promulgation of "institutional" norms. Without denying the existence of this trend, I have chosen to focus on the persistence of the home as a rhetorical space of female asceticism. For a consideration of bedrooms specifically as loci of virtue, see Sessa 2007. Ambrose, Virgo 3.4.19 (PL 16:225): ... ab ornni inquinamento carnis. On Ambrose' ideas of virginal integritas which likewise depended on a domestic vocabulary, see Brown 1988, 354, 363-5· See particularly, Bp. 22.25 (CSEL 54:178-80). See also Bp. 22.17; 24.3-4; 107.7; 128.4 (CSEL 54:164-6; 215-6; CSEL 55:298; CSEL 56:160-1). Jerome, Bp. 54.13; I07.8, rr; 128.3-4 (CSEL 54:479-80; CSEL 55: 299; CSEL 56:158-61). For a general discussion of the role offamilies in ascetic discourse, see Krawiec 2003. The text is analyzed and reproduced in Amand and Moons 1953. See also V66bus 1956. Eusebius of Emesa's De virginitate (ed. Buytaert 1953), is similarly dated and likewise assumes a domestic context controlled by the virgin's parents: Amand 1955. Neither text mentions official consecration ceremonies, while the public church is notably absent throughout both treatises. "De virginitate" 2.18-19 (ed. Amand and Moons 1953, 39): TTJpehw AOl1TOV 6 11'aTTJp TOV vaov TOO 6eoO. Gregory ofNyssa, V. Macr. 5 (SC 178:154-60). Gregory ofNyssa, V. Macr. 16 (SC 178:194-6) Eusebius of Emesa, Horn. 7.24 (ed. Buytaert 1953, 1.191-2): Tutela in domo est virgo bona ... Habeat igitur domus templum Dei, ut habeat et tutelam. Si enim fuerit virgo in domo, honestatem et mater colebit ... et soror erudietur et servus corrigetur et pater castior erit et frater suadebitur ... penetrante scilicet suavitatis odore ad ornnes. See also Amand 1955. "De virginitate" 2.44 (ed. Amand and Moons 1953, 45): lva EKelva 11'06000'a 11'p06vJ,lwS ElTI~aIV11 ets TOV axpaVTov TOO XplO'TOO VVJ,l<j>wva, TalS <j>POVIJ,lOIS 11'ap6evOlS O'VVTpexovO'a, O11'WS Kai 0'\1 6 yevvTJO'as 11'aO'Tov ~aO'\Aeias TPVYTJO'11S ... (trans. Elm 1994, 36). For a similar notion of patriarchal responsibility for the sexual purity of the household, expressed in Constantine's family laws, see Evans Grubbs 1995, 323-4. Pseudo-Athanasian Canons 98 (ed. and trans. Reidel and Crum 1904, 62). The complete version is preserved in Arabic from a lost Greek original. For the date and authorship, Reidel and Crum 1904, vii-xxv. Pseudo-Athanasian Canons I03-4 (ed. Reidel and Crum 1904, 66-7) Ambrose, Virgo 3.4.19 (PL 16: 225C): Sed etiam in ipso cubili volo psalmos cum oratione Dominica frequenti con texas vice, vel cum evigilaveris, vel antequam corpus sopor irriget; ut te in ipso quietis exordio rerum saecularium cura liberam, divina meditantem sornnus inveniat. See also Sessa 2007. Jerome, Bp. 22.26 (CSEL 54:181): ... si ostium cluseris et ... in occulto oraueris patrem tuum, ueniet et pulsabit et dicet: 'Ecce ego sto ante ianuam et pulso ... '
286
NOTES TO PP. 205-206
et tu statim sollicita respondebis: 'Uox fratruelis mei pulsantis: aperi mihi, soror mea, proxima mea, columba mea, perfecta mea.' 93. On the tradition of the /ucernarium and women: Archer 1983, 283. More generally, see Chapter !. 94. Jerome, Ep. 107.9 (CSEL 55:330) ... lucernula reddere sacrificium uespertinum ... See also Taft 1986, 143, who assumes these rituals took place in the "cathedral." Given the context of the passage, which pertains to daily prayerrituals, the ritual is almost certainly envisioned to take place at home. 95. On the household's evening song; Gregory ofNyssa, V. Macy. 22 (SC 178:212); on Macrina's solitary ritual; idem, 23-5, esp. 25 (SC 178:216-28). See also Maraval 197 1,72-4. 96. De virginitate, 12-13 (PG 28: 265A-268B). For more on the ~ttribution to the pseudo-Athanasius, see Regnault 1972, xvi and 107-48. Regnault dates the writer's activity to the mid fifth century. 97. De virginitate 13 (PG 28:265C): EVXCXPI(YTOUIJEV crol, DeXTEp rilJwv ... Kcxi crVVCXX6Eis eYEvETo EV' oilTwS E1TIcrvvcxX6TjTW crov ri 'EKKA'Tlcricx TWV TTEPCXTWV TTlS YTlS Eis TTjV ~cxcrlAEicxv crOV ... (trans. Dix 1945). 98. De virginitate 13 (PG 28:268A). 99. Gregory of Nyssa, V. Macy. 5 (SC 178:158): ... EV TE Tois OAAOIS m)m TTjV ETTll,;'TlTOVIJEV'TlV (rrr'TlpEcricxv CrrrOTIA'Tlpoucrcx Kcxi EV Tc;J Tcxis i8iCXJs XEpcri TIOAAaKIS T11 IJ'TlTpi TICXpcxcrKEval,;Elv TOV OpTOV. OTTEP OV KCXTCx TO TIP0'TlYOVIJEVOV CXVT11 8IEcrTIov8acr6'Tl, oX/": ETTEI8Tj Tcxis IJvcrTIKcxis VTI'TlpEcriCXJs TCxS XEipcxS ECXVTTlS EXP'TlcrE, TIpETTEIV riY'TlcrCXIJEV'Tl Tc;J E1TIT'Tl8EVIJCXTI TOU ~iov TTjV TTEpi TOUTO crTIov8Tjv EK TOU TTEPIOVTOS T11 IJ'TlTpi TICXpEXOpTjYEI TTjV EK TWV OiKEiwv TIOVWV TPO
TjV. (trans. FOTC). On the translation of "EXP'TlcrE," see Maraval 1971, 158 n. 2. 100. For the various interpretations of this passage, Maraval 1971, 158 n. 2. 1O!. Gregory Nazianzen, Or. 8.18 (SC 405:284). 102. Gregory ofNyssa, Mart. (PG 46.784-5). On the distance from the house; Gregory of Nyssa, V. Macy. 34 (SC 178:252). Theirs was not the only estate church in the neighborhood, for Gregory's friends also seemed to have had estate-based martyr chapels: Gregory of Nyssa, Ep. 20 (PG 46:1081); Rossiter 1989, 104-5. 103. When Gregory arrives at the estate, the monks and nuns wait for him at the chapel (V. Macy. 16). Later, when Gregory is waiting on his sister in her room, he hears the virgins singing the /ucernarium, seemingly in this same chapel (V. Macy. 22). Macrina's funerary procession leads from the villa to the Chapel of the Forty Martyrs, a kilometer away (V. Macy. 34). Thus, there would seem to be two chapels, one close to or within the villa itself and the Forty Martyrs chapel. 104. Vita Melaniae 5 (SC 90:134-6). On the chapel, see Chapter 2. 10 5. Gregory N azianzen, Or. 8.18 (SC 405 :284). For the various interpretations of this passage, most of which assume a private chapel setting, see above note 7. 106. Gregory ofNyssa, V. Macr. 31 (SC 178:244), where Macrina's ritual is said to take place in TICXVCXYICXcrTTjpJOV. 107. For an overview of the problem, see Taft 1998. 108. Jerome, Ep. 127.3-4 (CSEL 56:148). 109. Ep. 22.17 (CSEL 54:165): Rarus sit egressus in publicum: martyres tibi quaerantur in cubiculo tuo. 1I0. Ep. 128.4 (CSEL 56:160) ... nec liberius procedat ad publicum nec semper ecclesiarum quaerat celebritatem. In cubiculo suo totas delicias habeat. His advice to Laeta's girl, Paula, was somewhat looser, only cautioning her to bring her mother with her to martyr shrines: Bp. 107.9 (CSEL 55:300).
cmo
NOTES TO PP. 206-210
11 I. Porphyry, Plot. IO (Loeb, 34): ... EKEIVOVS oEI TIpOS EIJI: epxm6at, OUK EIJI: TIPOS EKEIVOVS. 112. For the meaning of Plo tinus' dodge, see Armstrong 1962, 149. 113. For example, Pseudo-Basilian Canons 36 (ed. and trans. Reidel 1900, 254--'7); "De virginitate" 2.34-36 (ed. Arnand and Moons 1953,42); Pseudo-Athanasian Canons 98 (ed. Riedel and Crum 1904, 62-4). 114. On the conditions in martyr shrines, see Jerome, C. Vigil. 1.9 (CCL 79:20--1); Sidonius Apollinaris, Bp. 5.17.3-4 (ed. Mohr 1895, 121-2). Constantinopolitan vigils may have had a city/processional element: Taft 1986, 171-3. 115. "De virginitate" 2.35 (ed. Arnand and Moon 1953, 43): IJTlol: TIaAIV AalJTIaOEvovcra aypvTIvlas xaplV, crj3Ecrll TT)V AalJTIaOa Tfis ayvElas. 116. Gerontius, Vita Melaniae 5 (SC 90:134). 117. Pseudo-Athanasian Canons 98 (ed. and trans. Reidel and Crum 1904, 64). II8. John Chysostom, Sac. 3.17 (PG 48:657) (in Antioch); Horn. in Acta apost. 26 (PG 60:203) (in Constantinople). See also Palladius, Dial. 5.146-9 (SC 341:124). See also Taft 1998, 72-4. 119. John Chysostom, Horn. in Acta apost. 26 (PG 60:203). 120. Gregory Nazianzen, Or. 8.12 (SC 405:272): Kat TO KaM.lcrTov IJT) TO OOKElV ijv TIap' aUTflTIAEIOV Tfis aATl6Elas, aAA EV T0 KPVTIT0 KaAWS EYE.WpyEI T0 j3AETIOVTI TO: KPVTITO: TT)V EUcrEj3ElaV. 121. Jerome, Bp. 128.4; 22.27 (CSEL 56:160; CSEL 54:182-4). 122. For example, "De virginitate," 2.36 (ed. Arnand and Moons 1953, 42). 123. On the form and addressee, Maraval 1971, 21-34. 124. See Luck 1984; Rousseau 2005. The Life also differs from other female Vita in its heroine's rural locale and the fact that she performs miracles during her lifetime: Clark 1998, 414-15. 125. For examples, Maraval 1971, 46-56; Giannarelli 1980, 34; Taft 1986, 37. 126. Elm 1994, 39-47, 78-I05, although in keeping with her overall model, she proposes a two-part evolution in Macrina's ascetic project, the "familial" experience after the death of Macrina's fiance, and a more "institutional" phase after the death of her mother (89). More recent accounts have tended to discount the "institutionalism" of even this phase: Van Dam 2003b, 106-13; Rousseau 2005. On the importance of family in ascetic treatises more generally; Krawiec 2003; Jacobs 2003; Cooper 2005· 127. See V. Macr. 5,9-13 (SC 178:154-60, 168-86). 128. See note 103 above. 129. V. Macr. 6-7, 12 (SC 178:160-4, 180--4). 130. V. Macr. 3 I (SC 178:244-6.): ... EcrTIEpas KaTaAaj3ovcrTlS, ETIEIOT) Tfl IJTlTpt TT)V crvvT]6Tl 010: TWV XEIPWV VTITlPEcrlav ETIAT]pc.ucrEV, EVTOS YEVOIJEVTl TOO TIavaYlacrTTlPIOV TIaVVVXIOV TIpocrTIlTITEI T0 6E0 TWV iacrEc.uv Kat TO aTIoppvI:v TWV 6cp6aAIJWV VOc.up TIPOS TT)V yfiv avaXEacra T0 EK TWV OaKpvc.uv TITlA0 cpaplJaK4l TIPOS TO TIa60s EXPT]craTo. Tfis 01: IJTlTpOS a6vlJc.us OlaKEllJEVTlS Kat TIaAIV EVOOOVat T0 iaTP0 TIapaKaAovcrTlS apKEiv eAEYE TIPOS 6EpaTIElav EavTfl TOO KaKOO, Ei Tfl iOI
cm
288
NOTES TO PP.
210-212
134. For Gregory's reliance on classical literature in constructing the Vita: Frank 2000a. The classical past was alive to Christian authors and thinkers framing Christian ideals offemale virtue: Evans Grubbs 1995, 330-42. 135. c.f. Elm 1994, 9!. 136. For an overview of the evidence, Wallace-Hadrill 1996. I do not mean to suggest that this trope in any way resembled reality, for as is now widely recognized, actual houses were neither wholly 'private' nor women's sole domain. 137. For an assessment of the literary topos versus the physical realities of Greek houses, see Nevett 1999. For the same disparity in Jewish texts/houses, Meyers 2003. On the division of Macrina's home into male and female sections, V Macr. 37 (SC 178:2 58). 138. On women in household cult; Orr 1978, 1560; Foss 1997, 199; on women's participation in public cults, the bibliography is enormous: see in declining order of precision, Staples 1998; Kraemer ed. 1988; Cantarella 1987, 155--6; Pomeroy 1976,214-18. 139. c.f. Elshtain 1981; Irnray and Middleton 1983; Ardener 1993. 140. For a specific study of women's rhetorical presence in public life in the Greek east, see Bremen 1996. See also Cooper 1992. 14!. See Boatwright 199!. 142. Bremen 1996, versus in the West; Forbis 1990. 143. On Gregory's background, Van Dam 2003b, 67-54· 144. Milnor 2005; Cooper 1992,151-3; idem 1996, II-17· 145. See for instance, Basil and Gregory's very different treatment of the legend of the Forty Martyrs; Van Dam 2oo3a, 137-48, and 169. See also Momigliano 1985. On Gregory Nazianzen's similar, yet distinct propensities, which tended towards the autobiographical; Van Dam 2003a, 170-85. Melania the Younger's biographer tended to downplay the familial elements of her Mount of Olives monastery: Cooper 2005. 146. c.f. Taft 1986, 37, who assumes the Vita Macrinae describes public church liturgies. The same absence of church figures is characteristics of the pseudo-Basilian "De virginitate," and Eusebius ofEmesa's De virginitate: Arnand 1955, 805. 147. Most studies of women in the ancient world, and women's Christianity specifically, assume that whatever power women claimed through their "private" virtues became actualized only when it migrated into publicly manifested thought or action. That is, only when women engaged in public building projects, had their virtues recited in the public forum, or in the case of Christian women, taught, preached, or founded monasteries, could they be said to have wielded power or to serve as a rhetorical basis for male power. See, for instance, Clark 1986a; idem 1990; Bauman 1992; Clarke 1993; TOIjesen 1993; Cloke 1995, esp. 176; Bremen 1996. On the contrary, what seems remarkable about these ascetic texts is the power accorded to the private, independent of its public manifestation. 148. Brown 1988, 259-84, 231--65, has noted the explicit parallels drawn between the enclosed virginal body and the unified Christian community. In some of these authors, particularly Chrysostom and Arnbrose, the closed virginal bedroom or home likewise becomes a synecdoche for the whole community. See also Burrus 1991, 232-3· 149. See V Macr. 37 (SC 178:258). 150. V Macr. 33-34 (SC 178:246-54). 15!. See Cloke 1995,9-10.
NOTES TO PP.
212-220
152. Alexander of Alexandria, Ep. Alex. I and 13 (PG 18:548-549A, 569), quoting 2 Tim. 3:6. See also Burrus 1991,233-5. 153. Council of Gangra, synodicalletter (Mansi 2:I097)· See also Elm 1994, I06-rr; Caner 2002, 99-IOO. 154. Canner 2002. 155. Council of Zaragoza, c. I; Council of Toledo, c.6, 9 (Mansi 3: 1000). 156. Breyfogle 1995; Burrus 1995. 157. Euchrotia: Suplicius Severus, Chron. 2.48, 51 (CSEL 1:101, 104); Urbica: Prosper, Chron. ann. 385 (MGH AA 9:462). 158. For an overview, see Janowitz 2002,86-<)6, and Chapter 1. 159. On this issue generally, see Burrus 1991; idem 1995. 160. See generally Clark 1986b. 161. On the" collapse-inwards" toward the blood, marital and specifically nuclear familia, as recorded in epigraphic sources, see Shaw 1984. 162. Gribomont 1967; Elm 1994, 124; Van Dam 2003b, 27. 163. For an alternative reading of Eustathius' tacit role in the Vita Macrinae, see Elm 1994,124-31. 164. Virginity and Ambrose; Brown 1988, 356-65; in Basil; Rousseau 1994, 190-232; Elm 1994, 60-77; on female ascetics as threats to episcopal power; Clark 1986a; idem 1986b; idem 1990; idem 1994, 179-81; Elm 1994, esp. 162-6; Burrus 1995; Hunter 1999; Canner 2002. 165· Markus 1980; idem 1990, 19,27-37. 166. Burrus 1991, 246.
CONCLUSIONS
1. 2. 3. 4. 5.
6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13.
14. 15.
The story is related by Eugippius, Vita Severini 44-6 (CSEL 9.2:62-7). On Severinus, see now PoW and Diesenberger eds. 2001. Eugippius, Vita Severini 40,44 (CSEL 9.2:56-8,62-4). Eugippius, Vita Severini 46 (CSEL 9.2:65-7). On the identity of the clarissima Barbaria and contemporary female patronage more generally, see Cooper 2001. On the Castellum Lucullanum and its late antique history; PW 13. 1705; on Barbaria; PLRE 2:210. Vita Severini 46.6 (CSEL 9.2: 66). The building is also called a mausoleum: Vita Severini 46.2 (CSEL 9.2:65) On Eugippius, Leyser 2000, 109. An assumption with an old and impressive pedigree: Gibbon 1851, 257-8 (Ch. 20); Brown 1972, and now Salzman 2002. The preferential selection of Christian aristocrats for imperial posts is analyzed by Barnes 1995. See also now Salzman 2002. The classic study is Heinzelmann 1976. On bishops, see now Rapp 2005. On property; Marazzi 1998, 65-8; on the clerical cursus; Faivre 1977. As suggested by newer, regionally based propographic studies; Sotinel 1997; idem 2006 (Italy); Fern[mdez Ubifia 2002; Vilella Masana 2002 (Hispania). The exception is southern Gaul: Heinzelmann 1976. The problem, of course, never disappeared: see, for instance, Aries 1965, 356, on the continuing problem of the family as religious category in the Middle Ages. For instance Krautheimer 1969a; idem 1980; idem 1983; Duval 1978; idem 1982; Testini, Cantino Wataghin and Pani Ermini 1989; Cantino Wataghin, Gurt
NOTES TO PP.
16. 17. 18.
19. 20.
21. 22.
23.
24.
25.
26. 27.
28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34.
220-225
Esparraguera and Guyon 1996; Caillet 1996; Speiser 2001. Brenk 2003 and Yasin 2002, represent a departure, focusing more on the social qualities of Christian space. For an excellent theoretical discussion, see Smith 1987,79-95. On the development of Christian concepts of sacred space in the third century, see now Caseau 2001,40-3. On the cult of the saints, see Brown 1981; Smith 1987, 75-95; HowardJohnston and Hayward eds. 1999. Hunt 1982, 131-2; and Frank 2000b, describe similar processes of temporal folding during pilgrimage. On the possessability of martyr's graves and its attendant problems, see Brown 1981, 25-35; on the fragments' ability to stand for the whole, see Miller 1998. On the dispersal of Step hen's relics; Delehaye 1912,96-8; on the sacredness of spaces and objects created through contact with the eucharist; Novatian, De spectaculis 5.45.5 (CCL 4:173-174); Cyprian, Laps. 26 (CCL 3:235). Hegel 1944, 377-8. On martyr shrines and episcopal power; Brown 1981; on moving the eucharist across diocesan lines; Council of La odice a, c. 14 (Mansi, 2.566); on the association between church factions and martyr shrines in Rome; Dufourcq 1907; Llewellyn 1976; Saghy 2000, among others. On the impoverishment of the western aristocracy and its impact on material culture, see now Brogiolo and Chavarria 2005, 61-5, 151-9. Wickham 2005, 153258 offers a more detailed account that focuses less on aristocratic material culture and more on power structures, missing, in my opinion, the radical decline in the scale of aristocratic economies that took place after the mid-fifth century. The canons, which spoke most directly to these issues, were c. 4 and 8 (Mansi 7:394, 395). The later versions of c. 4 include domestic oratories among those entities now subject to episcopal control: Mansi 7:360, 374, 386. For the Council's effortto enfold ascetics into a broader definition of episcopal community, see Sterk 2004, 170-3. Gelasius, Bp. 14.4; 25; 33; 34, 35; Bp·frag. 19,21 (ed. Thiel 1868, 364; 391-2; 448-9; 493-4,495-6); Bpistulae ineditae, 2 (Col. Brit. Gel. 2.I.I); 15 (Col. Brit. Gel. 29.1.1) (ed. Loewenfeld 1885, I; 8-9). His successors continued and elaborated this system: Pelagius I, Bp. 36,42,44, 86; 89 (ed. Gasso 1956, 102-5; II6-8; 121-4; 209-11; 215-6); Gregory the Great, Reg. Bp. 2.9, 2.15, 8.5, 9.45, 9.58, 9.71, 9.165 (CCL 140-140A). For analysis, Violante 1982; Pietri 2002. NJ 57 (537); 58 (537); 67. 1- 2. (53 8); 131.7, 8, IQ (545); 123·18,23 (546). CJ 1.3·45 (53 0 ). Orange (441) c. 9; Arles (442-506) c. 37; Chalcedon (451) c. 4 (epitome); Agde (506) c. 21; Orange (5II) c. 25; Epaone (517) c. 25, 35; Clermont (535), c. 15; Orange (541), c. 7; Lerida (546) c. 3; Braga (572) c. 5 and 6 (Mansi). On the relative laxness of these rulings compared to the Italian rulings, see Pietri 2005,237-9. Gregory the Great, Reg. Bp. 3.1 (CCL 140:146-7); on bishop Paul; Reg. Bp. 2.8-2.9 (CCL 140:95-7). Gregory the Great, Reg. Bp. 3.19 (CCL 140:165). On the evolving conception of canon law and its repercussions, Garnsey and Humfress 2001,77-9. See, for instance, Ellis 1985,20-1; Keil 1932, I!. On the competition between parish and villa churches, see now Pietri 2005. On these chapels see now Barbier 2001. Contra the early studies of the so-called "Eigenkirchen," which took the plentiful evidence for Gothic palace chapels as evidence of a particularly "Germanic" habit: Stutz 1895; Imbart de la Tour 1900.
29 1
NOTES TO PP.
225-226
35. The date of many of these chapels remains uncertain, and many appear for the first time in the tenth-century Book of Ceremonies without any indication of their age or patron. The function and appearance of these chapels may likewise have changed over time. For an uncritical list, see Miranda 1964,177. Those of probable later-fifth through seventh-century date include a chapel of Step hen which, although it was likely not constructed by Pulcheria as Theophanes claims, was certainly in existence by the time of the emperor Zeno, who is said to have placed in it a gospel book of Matthew found atop the body of Barbara of Cyprus (Theodore Lector, Hist. Bcd. [ed. Hansen 1995, 121]; Janin 1953, 489-90); a chapel of St. Michael on the steps leading to the hippodrome, constructed by Justinian (Bxemplum rescripti fidei Flaviani archiepiscopi [Mansi 8:833 B];Janin 1953, 355); and the chapel of Paul, built by the empress Constantina who tried and failed to persuade Gregory the Great to send her one of the aposde's relics from Rome. Basil, who is later credited with its construction, may have rebuilt the chapel in the ninth century (Gregory the Great, Reg. Bp. 4.30 [CCL 14°:248-50]; Theophanes Continuatus, Chron. 43, 88 [CSHB 33: 147, 331];Janin 1953, 407). Finally, there is a church of the Theotokos said to have been destroyed by Justin II to make room for a reception area for the Blue circus faction (Cedrenus 774 [PG 121:845C-848A];Janin 1953, 205). 36. On the Frankish palaces as Holy Land, Barbier 2001,26. 37. On private worship during the rise of Protestantism; Revocation of the Bdict of Nantes 2, 3; on private worship and individual piety at the Vatican II council; Council of Vatican II Apostolicam Actuositatem 4.18; Sacrosanctum condlium 3.26-32. 38. On the controversy that accrued around images in the home, particularly women's prayer before icons; Herrin 1982; idem 2005; Cormack 1997; Brubaker 1995, 206II; Hamburger 1995; on Victorian domestic piety and its ideology in America; McDannell 1994.
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Wood, S. 2006. The Proprietary Church in the Medieval J.-lifst. Oxford. Woods, D. I991. "The Date of the Translation of the Relics of SS. Luke and Andrew to Constantinople." Vigiliae Christianae 45:286--92. Wool£, G. I998. Becoming Roman: The Origins of Provincial Civilization in Caul. Cambridge. Wordey, J. I980. "The Trier Ivory Reconsidered." Creek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 2I:38I--94·
Yasin, A. M. 2002. Commemorating the Dead - Constructing the Community: Church Space, Funerary Monuments and Saints' Cult in Late Antiquity. PhD, University of Chicago. Yasin, A. M. 2005. "Funerary Monuments and Collective Identity: From Roman Family to Christian Community." Art Bulletin 87:433-57. Zaccaria Ruggiu, A. I995. Spazio privato e spazio pubblico nella citto. romana. Collection de l'Ecole fran<;:aise de Rome, 2IO. Rome. Zanker, P. I988. The Power of Images in the Age ofAugustus. Trans. A. Shapiro. Ann Arbor. Zelzer, K. I998. "Kloster und Regeln in den ersten Phasen des abendlandlischen monachesimo occidentale dalle origini alia Regula Magistri. Studia Monchtums," in ephemeridis augustinianum, 62. Rome. 23-36.
n
342
Index
Abbondius, bishop of Co mo, 172 Acholla, Tunisia, 30
actores, 168 Adriatic Sea, 170 Aelia Eudocia, empress, 105, 107, III, II2, II4 Aelia Eudoxia, empress, II8, II9 Aelius Aristides, 42 Aemilia et Liguria, 276 Aetius, Arian, 193 agape, 241 agathos-daimon, 28, 210 Agde, council of (506), 28 I Agnes, saint, 69
Ambrose of Milan, 4, 182 accused of Manicheeism, 102 and Arians, 192-193, 198 and relic exchange, 85, 93 in Rome, 78, 80-82, 100 influence on neighboring bishoprics, 170-172 on female asceticism, 6, 203, 204, 214 Ambrosiaster, 101 amicitia, 129, 154, 160, 184 Ampelius, prefect of Rome, 192 Anastasius, emperor, I 13 Anaunia, 172, 174 ancestors, cult of, 32, 13 I
agricola
andronitis,
in rhetoric ofPaulinus of No la, 160 Agripinilla, 41 Ain Zirara, 166, 275 Aion,28 Alberca, La, 142, 143,279 Albina, ascetic of Rome, 78, 80,98,99, 101,245 Alexander of Alexandria, 212 Alexandria, 28, 185 Alps, 170 altar Christian, 54,95,106, II7, 13 1, 134, 142, 150, 165, 180, 189,206,268 pagan, 18, 24, 25, 26, 28, 29, 30, 35, 42, 46, 90, 125
Anicia Iuliana, 100, 112, 114 Anicii,23 Annesi, estate of Macrina, 206, 208. See also Forty Martyrs of Forty Martyrs; mausolea; Macrina domestic church at, 206, 209 annona, 128, 180. See also taxation Antioch, II7, II9, 120, 207,288, 325 Antonia Saturnina, North African landowner, 166 Antoninus of Fussala, 157, 167-168, 169 apartments, 75, 88, 104, II3 Apocryphal Acts, 56, 57 Apollinarians, 198 Apollinaris ofLaodicea, Arian, 193
343
210
INDEX
Apostles images of, 137 private worship compared to, 200 relics of, 84, 85, 93 Apostolic Tradition, 53 Apotactites, 194 apse, 137, 140, 142, 152, 165 in churches, 85, 86, 87, 135, 140, 149, 150, 152, 154 in urban houses, 74, 75, 85 in villas, 128, 149, 164, 174, 176, 179 Apuleius, 43, 46, 48, 59,202,239, 300, 31 7 Aquileia, 70, 172 Aquitaine, 279 asceticism, 155-156, 185-186 bishops, 182 cities, 181 economy, 180 elites, 179, 180 home of anonymous ascetic women, 186 home of Paulinus of N ola, 155 home ofSulpicius Severus, 155, 185 location of Primuliacum, 181 mosaics, 128, 179, 180 Priscillianist controversy, 161 urban Christian history, 181-182 villa churches, 179, 180-181 villas, 125, 179-180 Arcadius, I07, II3 arcae, 77 arcarius, on rural estates, 164 archaeology as evidence, 15, 129-130, 147, 153, 231,236 Arellano, 42 Arians. See also Trinitarian controversy and Ambrose, 192, 193 and Macedonius, II6 and Marathonius and Eustathius, 122 and private worship, 192-193, 194, 195, 198, 200, 202 and Ursinus, 193 Ossius of Cordoba versus, 182 women as type of, 212 Aristotle, 210 ArIes, council of (3 14), 278 Arval brotherhood, 22
asceticism, 3, 6, 7, II, 13,75 archaeological evidence for, 153 encouraging of private worship, 190-191, 202-203 heresy and, 212-214 in villas, 125, 152-157, 158, 183, 185-186, 187 male construction of female ideologies, 2II-2I2 Manichaeism and, 198 peripatetic, 121-122 private churches and Constantinople, 120-123 Rome, 96-99 private rituals and, 76, 193-194, 203, 204-205 role in Priscillianist controversy, 183 social qualities of, 98-99, II3, II4, 121-122, 154-157 tensions around, 185-186, 194,214 Asclepius, 42 Asella, ascetic of Rome, 258 Asterius, comes Hispaniarum, 184 astrology prohibitions against, 197 Asturias, rnithraea in, 239 Athens, 22 atrium, 12, 28, 30 Attis, 18, 38, 43, 239 Audurus, estate near Hippo, 152 augur, 22 augury prohibitions against, 47, 196, 197 Augustine, 4, 6, 92, 182 and Antoninus ofFussala, 157, 167 in Rome, IOO letters of, 184 on Manicheans, 192 on villa churches, 146, 151 relationship with elites, 126, 167, 168, 169, 171 Augustus, emperor and household cult, 32 ideology of women, 241 marriage laws, 230 religious legislation, 47, 197, 238 aula. See reception rooms Aurelianus, consul (400), I05, I06, II2, II4, II5, II8, 122
344
INDEX
Ausonius, rhetor, 36, 125, 127, 129, 154, 158, 160, 179, 183, 185, 187 Auxentius, Arian bishop, 200 Avila episcopate of, 182, 183 Avitus of Braga, 84 Azrou Zaouia, 274 Bacchus. See also Dionysius cult of prohibition of, 240 prohibitions against, 45, 196, 197 Baetica, 128, 180, 181, 185, 280 Bagradas valley, 164 Bal,38 Balearic Islands, 184 baptism, 49, 52, 64, ISO, 176, 178, 223, 225, 279 baptismal font in urban churches, 86 in villa churches, 149, ISO, 176, 178, 279 baptistery in parish churches, 172 in titu/i, 86 in urban churches, 176 in villa churches, 95, 125, 141, 142, 146, ISO, 156, 158, 159, 165, 173, 180, 181, 185,279 Barbaria, clarissima, 217, 218, 222, 223, 224 Barcelona, 154 possible cathedral church, 182 Basil of Caesarea, 4, 84, II7, 214 asceticism and, 123 brother ofMacrina, 208, 209, 210 on female asceticism, 214 relationship with Eustathuis of Sebaste, 121 relic exchange and, I I I Bassula, mother-in-law of Sulpicius Severus, 156 Bath, 178 baths, 38,75,78, 105, IIO in churches, ISO in vici, 162 in villas,S, II9, 128, 13 1, 133, 135, 149, 170, 179, 181 ritual inJudaism, 53 Belisarius, 255
Bellerophon, 178 Bergamo, 170, 277 Biberist-Spitalhof, 237 Bierbach, 37 birthday rituals, 28-30 bishops asceticism and, 28-30, 185-186, 194 authority of, 2, 3,4,6-'7,49, 182, 183-184,218,219 banned from private masses, 193 basilica building in Rome, 72 changing role in fifth century, 223 confined to urban roles, 126, 161, 172, 174, 178, 182, 183 female asceticism and, 212-214 in Britain, 175-176 in pre-Nicene Rome, 63-64 pre-Nicene developments, 50-52, 58 private churches and, 80-83, 101-102, 103, II6-120, 218, 221 after fifth century, 226 property and, 64-65 relationship with elites, 79-83, 106, II6-120, 123-162, 167-169, 170-172, 173-174, 178- 179, 182-220 relationship with monks, 122-123 role in imperial edicts, 191 role in ritual, 55 role in rural Christianity, 126-127 role in tituli, 68, 69, 71 villa churches and, 127, 130, 151, 158, 161-162, 166, 167-169 blessing, 50, 55,205 Bona Dea cult of, 238 Bordeaux, 128 annona and, 180 estates ofPaulinus of No la near, 154, 180 Saint Seurin, 182 villas near, 180 Bou Melika, 275 Bradford-on-Avon, 176, 177, 178 bread as eu/ogia, 160 blessed at meals, 205 eucharistic, 55, 220 Brescia, 170, 171, 277
345
INDEX
Britain, 128 bishops, 175-176, 178-179 Christian imagery in villas, 178 economy, 174-175 elites, 178 mosaics, 128, 174, 178 urban Christian history, 175-176 villa churches, 131-133, 175, 176-178 villa temples, 34, 35 villas, 174-175 bureaucracy, imperial, 2 I 9 in Constantinople, 104 in countryside, 128 Byzacena, 164 nundinae, 274 settlement patterns, 273 Byzantium. See also Constantinople: foundation Caelestis, 165 Caesarea houses, 163 survey, 164 Caesarius, consul (397), 2, II2, 260, 264 Calagurris,281 Calendar of 3 54, 44 Callistus, bishop of Rome, 52,64,72 catacomb of, 49 Campania Paulinus of Nola's lands in, 271 Cantabria, coast of, 180 Canterbury, 176 Cappadocia, 117 missionaries from in northern Italy, 172 Caracalla, 45 Caristia, 33 Carranque, 143-146, 180, 181,279 Carthage, 128 houses of, 163 Carthage, council of (345-348), 168 Carthage, council of (4II), 168 castellum, 157, 200 North Africa, 162 Castellum Lucullanum, 217, 218, 224 Castricia, II 9 castrum, 167 catacombs, 64, 93 catechumens in domestic context, 205
cathedra, 149 Cauca, 180 Celer, vir spectabilis, 167, 168, 169 Celerina, martyr, II3 Censorinus, 29 Centallo, 150, 151, 172, 173,277 cerarrucs Britain, 174, 175 Hispania and Aquitaine, 180 Ceres,21O Chafagi Aamer, 165, 166, 274, 275 Chalcedon, II 5, II 9 Apostoleion ofRufinus, II2, 142, 146, 156 episcopate of, 10 5 monastery ofRufinus, II4 Chalcedon, council of, 16, II5, 123,223, 26 3 chancel screens, II7, 131, 134, 141, 149 chapel definition of, 15 charity. See also donations Chedworth, 176 chi-rho image of, 132, 133, 145, 176, 178 Christianization, 9, I I, 62 and Roman past, 222 of countryside, 127, 162 of elites, 2 18-220 Chrysaphius, eunuch, 123 churches. See private churches, villa churches, and individual site and city names churches, public moral valuation of, 191,200,201, 206-207, 208 private churches imitate, 224 Cicero affair of his house, 26 statue of Minerva, 27 tomb of Tullia, 36 Cirta, 165 clarissimi, 70, 180 Clarus, acolyte of Martin of Tours, 156, 181,221 Claudius, emperor, 32 Clement of Alexandria, 56 Clement, bishop of Rome, 56 Clementina, gloriosa, 224
INDEX
Aurelianes, I05 Baths of Constantius, II2, II4 charitable foundations, II4 Christian origins, I05-I06 Column of Constantine, IIO edicts issued from, 194, 198 episcopate, I06 Forum of Constantine, I 17 foundation, I03-104 Great Palace, I04, IO 5 churches in, II 0- II I, 225 Helenianae, II7 Holy Apostles, I06, 107, 112, 146,
clergy definition of, 7, 84 domestic, 75, 80-82, 98, II5, 118, II9, 120, 223
estate, I25, 146, 157-158, 167-169 in Rome, 66, 70 Cocosa, La, 137-138, 139, 142, 180, 279
coemeterium, 64 coms Britain and Gaul, 175 Hoxne treasure, 278 in rural sites, 174 in Santo Stefano Rotundo excavations,
263
Karya, II3 location of cathedral church, I07 martyrium of Celerina, 1 13 martyrium ofPhilip, II3 monastery ofElias, II4 monastery of Isaac, II4, II5, 122 monastery ofThalassius, II4 palaces, I05, II2, II4, II9 Philadelphion, 1 14 private churches, 62, 103, I07-123, 217 private monasteries, 62, I03, II2 Promotou, I05 Psamathea, 114 public basilica building in, I03,
256
Colchester, 176, 278 collegia, 30, 32, 38, 64 coloni in North African estates, 163, 164-165 Paulinus of Nola as colonus, 155 relationship with dominus, 159, 171 role in Priscillianist controversy, 183 role in villa churches, 166, 167-168, 181, 187
Columella, 2 IO conductores, 163, 164, 168 confessio, 88, 89 consecratio, 26 definition of, 24-25 consecration of private church, 223 Consentius, correspondant of Augustine,
I06-I07, I08
sarcophagus from, 137 Sigma, 112 St. Andrew martyrium, 261 St. Akakios, I06, 107, II3 St. Anthimius martyrium, 261 St. Euphemia en tois Olybriou, I07, II4 St. Irene, 106, 107, IIO St. John the Baptist at the Hebdomon,
184
Constantine and relic collecting, 85 and relics, 253 conversion of, 9, 61, 65 donations to church of Rome, 63, 65,
I07
St. St. St. St. St.
68, 72, 86
economic reforms, 127 foundation of Constantinople, I03 heresy legislation, 194, 196 Holy Apostles, IIO imperial priesthoods of, 22 religious legislation, 47, 197 role in Constantinopolitan church building, 106-107, I08 Sessorian palace, 62 Constantinople, I, 2, 16 Anastasia church, I07, II7
Lawrence, I07, II2 Mokios, I07 Polyeuktos, I07, 1 I2, II 4 Sophia, I07, IIO, II3, II7 Stephen, churches of, II2, 114, II5, 122
suburbs, I05, II5, 121, 122 Theotokos Hodegetria, I07 Theotokos in Blachernae, I07 Theotokos in Chalkoprateia, I07 Topkapi Sarayi, I07 Trinitarian controversy, 193, 195,200
347
INDEX
Constantinople (cont.) walls, Constantinian, 261 walls, Theodosian, 105 Constantius II, 106, 107, II2 relic translations of, 84, 106 converSlOn at Felix' shrine at N ola, 155 of elites, 218-220 of rural populations, 126, 159, 169, 171, 172, 174, 187 Cornelii, 75 Cornelius, bishop of Rome, 52, 64 corpora, 30, 38, 64 councils, church, 183, 190, 191 regulation of private churches, 190--196, 224 courts, secular, 183 courtyard, 140 in villas, 128, 135, 141, 143, 162 Crispinus, Donatist landowner-bishop, 275 crypt, 94, 95, 134, 137, 180 cubiculum, 12, 97, 98, 206, 243, 332 Cucufate, Sao, 268 Cumae,23 Cuzabetenses, North African plebs, 166 Cyprian ofCarthage, 49,51,53,54,58, 77, 221 Cyriaca, religiosa jemina, 246 Cyzicus, II6 Dalmatia martyr shrines, 142 villa churches, 141, 142 villa mausolea, 137 Damasus, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 80, 81, 97, 101, 102, 192, 193 opposition to, 246 Daniel, prophet, 201, 202 Danube River, 42, 217. See also frontiers: Danube dating, mortar, 269 deaconess, II3, II6, 142 deacons, 71 subdeacons, 224 Decius, emperor, 45, 200 decuriones, 180 dedicatio definition of, 25 difensores, on rural estates, 164
Delphidius of Bordeaux, rhetor, 183 Delphinius of Bordeaux, bishop, 182 Demetrias, 94-96, 100, 256, 258 Demophilus, Arian bishop, 200 dependents, 3, 6, 7, 105. See also patronage and estate clergy, 158 and villa churches, 127, 158, 181 in North Africa, 161 Desana, 172, 173,277 Dewlish, 278 diaconia, 71 dining rooms, 5, 10, 12,49 in villas, 5, 128, 130, 134, 149, 174, 178, 180 Diocletian administrative reforms of, 127, 170, 174, 180 Dionysius, 41. See also Bacchus divination, 47 dome, 128, 143, 145, 146, 149 domina as monastic patron, 218 role in Priscillianist controversy, 183 role in villa churches, 157, 167 dominus as monastic patron, 218 in Christian rhetoric, 155 relationship with dependents, 163, 164-165 role at meals, 50 role in Priscillianist controversy, I 83 role in selecting estate clergy, 157 role in villa churches, 157 role in villa rituals, 35, 42 domus andJamilia, 191, 199,200,214, 215, 219, 285 and priesthoods, 23 definition of, 5,28,213 terminology in Constantinople, 105 domus ecc/esiae, 89, 229, 241. See also house-churches: pre-Nicene donations of Paulinus of N ola, 155 of Sulpicius Severus, 156 tituli, 66-69, 70, 71 to ascetics, 121, 122 to church of Constantinople, I 18-119 to urban churches, 185, 186
INDEX
Donatists at Fussala, 167 clergy, 157, 166 edicts against, 192 on rural estates, 166, 167, 168, 169 Duero River, 180, 183 Dura Europos, 49, 5 I house church, 250 mithraeum, 38 Durobrivae, 176 Easter, 63, 185,246 Ebro River, 180 economy changes to in fifth century, 222-223 rural, 127-128, 138, 161 Egypt asceticism, 101, 121 deities from, 2 I household shrines, 28 Eigenkirchen, 291 ekphrases, 129 Eleusis, II6 Eleutheropolis, 20 I elites competition among, 121, 122, 154,
Encratites, 194 endowment. See donations Ephesius, Luciferian bishop, 192 Ephesus, I04 Epiphanius, bishop ofSalarnis, IOI Epiphany, 185, 186 Equitus, titular name, 65, 66 estate churches. See villa churches estates, See villas imperial, 162, 163, 164 eucharist, 75. See also rituals and asceticism, 212 . and lamplighting, 205 blessing during, 55 definition of, 13 equipment for, 79 eucharistic-type rituals, 55-56, 205, 242
in tituli, 7 I reserved, 2, 19, 54-55, 57, 76--'78, 82, 103, 1I7, 189, 192,205,221, 225 containers for, 77 rituals of, 49, 50, 52,76, 135, 142, 192, 201 and definition of sacred space, 220 and heresy, 195 discouraged in houses, 223
156, 160, 180, 181
Constantinopolitan social qualities, 104 economic circumstances, 222 relationship with bishops, 79-83, 106, 116-120, 122-162, 167-169, 170-172, 173-174, 178-179, 182-220 after fifth century, 224 relationship with dependents, 166 role in relic exchange, 84-85, 94 role in Roman Christianity, 70, 75-76, 78 role in rural Christianity, 126-127 Emmelia, mother of Macrina, 206, 209 emperor, cult of, 26, 44, 165 in the home, 32
emperors in Rome, 72 role in church building, 106-I07 role in private churches, 63, 87, IIo-I II, II4
role in unofficial cult, 44
Euchrotia, wife ofDelphidius of Bordeaux, 183 euergetism Christian, 248 civic, 120 imperial, 114 Roman sacrifical, 23 rural, 36, 187 Eugippius, follower of Severinus of Noricum, 217, 223, 224 Eugraphia, lady of Constantinople, 1I9
Eunomians, 194, I98 Eunomius, Arian, 193 Euphemia of Chalcedon, saint relics of, 85 Eusebia, aristocrat of Constantinople, 3, Ill, 1I2, II5, II6, I42, 218 Eusebius of Caesarea, 1I 0 Eusebius of Ernes a, 204 Eusebius of Ni co media, I06, 122 Eusebius ofVercelli, I73
349
2,
INDEX
Eustathius of Sebaste, 122 canons againt, 194 female ascetics and, 212, 213 in Constantinople, 121-122, 195 influence of, 214 private worship and, 193-194, 195 Eustochium, ascetic of Rome, 99, 206 eutaxia, 267 Eutyches, monk of Constantinople, II 3, 114, 123 Exeter, 176 exorcism, 152, 166 Exuperius, ascetic of Rome, 80
familia definition of, 5,7, 191, 199, 228, 235 rituals of, 28, 30-32 role in household cult, 235 families, 3, 63, 219 and civic priesthoods, 23-24 asceticism and, 121, 155, 156,208-209, 2II definition of, 10, 191 funerary cult, 32 heresy and, 199-200, 213-214, 215 ideologies of, 191 in pre-Nicene Christianity, 20 late antique developments, 5-6 nuclear, 5 role in private churches, 218 role in private worship, 19, 219-220 role in Roman estate religion, 159 role in unofficial cults, 41-42 role in villa churches, I2 5, 133, 135, 142,150,15 2,158-159,169,173, 178, 180-181, 187 farms, fortified, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166 fasting, IOI, 121, 186, 189,204 Felicissimus of Carthage, 52 Felix, saint of N ola, 2 I 8 possible relics of, 92, 94 shrine of, 154-155, 158 fenestella, 95, 146 Feralia, 33 fermentum, 66, 71 festivals Christian, 62, 185,223 Jewish, 53 Roman, 30, 33, 165, 182,206,222
Festus,20 first fruits donation of, 34 Flacilla, empress, I05 flamen,22 Flavian, bishop of Constantinople, 123 Florentius, consul (429), II4, 123 foreignness and accusations of magic, 46 and asceticism, 101, 121 and relics, 93 and unofficial cults, 43 Forrniae, 42 Fortuna,2IO Forty Martyrs of Sebaste, 116, 218 Basil of Caesarea on, 289 church at Annesi, 206, 209, 212, 28 7 Gregory ofNyssa on, 2II in Constantinople, I, 2 relics of, 84,93, 142,206,209 Forum Romanum, 25 Frampton, 178, 278 friendship between bishops, 171, 184,219 role in asceticism, 155, 156, 157, 181 role in private churches, 160, 184, 187, 218 role in Roman religion, 3 role in unofficial cults, 41-42 rural elites, 129, 154 versus episcopal authority, 191 frontiers, 170 Danube, 217 Rhineland, 42, I26, 175 Fronto, monk, 184 functionalism in social theory, 230 fundus in rhetoric ofPaulinus of No la, 155 North Africa, 162 fundus Aufidianus, 162 fundus Iubaltianensis, 164 fundus of Antonia Saturnina, 166 Fussala, castellum, 152, 167, 168 Gainas, II8 Gallaecia, 180, 280 Gangra, council of, 121, 122, 194,212, 214, 266
35 0
INDEX
Gaudentius ofBrescia, 171, 173 and relic exchange, 85 Gaul. See also Aquitaine, 22 asceticism in, 152, 185 bishops of, 126, 182 church councils, 223 ius sacrum in, 26 nundinae in, 36 properties ofPaulinus of No la in, 155 relationship with Britain, 175 unofficial cults in villas, 42 villa churches, 141, 149-150 villa mausolea, 36, 137, 142 villa temples, 28,34,35 Gaul, southwestern defined, 279 Gelasius, bishop of Rome, 223 Geneva, 276 villa churches near, 173 genius, 21, 27, 28, 29, 30, 32 augusti,32 Genovius, servus sanctorum, 84 Gervasius and Protasius, saints, 67, 68, 93, 94 martyr shrine, 169 relics of, 85, I 5 I Gesta martyrum, 66, 101,247 Gnostics, 56, 57 and private worship, 194, 196 Gnosticsm, 244 God-Fearers, 38, 193,238 Gorgonia, sister of Gregory Nazianzen, 189-190,205,209,211 Goths, II8, II9 Gracchi,75 graves in or around churches, 135, ISO, 152, 159,173 intramural, 89 Roman religious law, 33 Gregory Nazianzen, 21 I in Constantinople, 107, II7-rr8, 195, 266 on Gorgonia, 189-190, 205, 206, 209 on his family, 289 Gregory of Elvira, 192, 201 Gregory ofNyssa and relic exchange, 84 construction of female asceticism, 2II-212, 214
family of, 2 rr on Macrina, 204, 205, 206, 208-212 Gregory of Tours, 126,225 Gregory the Great, 224 gynaeconitis, 210 hagiography, 190,208,281 Harpocrates, 28 Hegel, Gorg Wilhelrn Friedrich, 221 Helena, empress, 84 and Sessorian palace, 85 Henchir el Baroud, 274. Henchir Ouled Ahmeda. See Rouis Herculaneum, 28, 30 heresy, II, 17. See also orthodoxy families and, 199-200 heresiological tropes, 190, 199-200, 202,212,213,214 private churches and, 224 private worship and, 190, 191-196, 202 women and, 212-214 Hesperius, landowner near Hippo, 152, 166, 168, 169 Hilary of Arles, 126 Hilary ofPoitiers, 200 Hilary, bishop of Rome, 96 Himerius, bishop of Tarragona, 251 Hinton St. Mary, 178, 278 Hippo, 93 estates near, 168 villa churches around, 151 Hippolytus, 52,63,64,70,76,297,298, 305, 337, 341 Hispania asceticism, 152, 185-186 church councils, 223 cities, 181 economy, 180 elites, 180 estate clergy in, 157 heresy, 192 Luciferians, 201 mosaics, 128, 143, 179, 180 nundinae in, 36 Paulinus of No la and, 154, 155 Priscillianist controversy, 161 urban Christian history, 181-182 villa churches, 133-135, 137-138, 142, 143-146, 179, 180-181 sixth century, 279
351
INDEX
Hispania (cont.) villa mausolea, 36, 137 villa temples, 34, 35 villas, 179-180 historiography private worship, 8-<) rural Christianity, 126-127 Holcome, 278 Holy Land relics from, 14, 84, 156, 166 honestiores, 173 Honorius, emperor, II3 Horus,28 house-churches in Rome, 62, 65, 73-'75, 88, 89 pre-Nicene, 9, 49-50, 58, 66 houses, 58 accusations of magic and, 46, 47 as alternative worship spaces, 190, 194-195 asceticism and, 97-<)8, 218 Constantinopolitan oikoi definition of, I04-I05 doctrinal debate and, 99-lO1 functional specialization in, 76, 78 late antique trends, 5, 75-76 moral valuation of, 54, 58, 97-<)8, 120, 190, 198-199, 214-222, 226 and women, 203-204, 207, 210, 2II-212, 213 private space in, 12 sites of heretical accusation, 191-196, 197-200 sites of orthodoxy, 200-202 tituli and, 74 transformation of, 223 Hoxne Treasure, 178 Huesca, 184 Hydatius of Merida, 183 Hydroparastatae, 194 hygeia,83 Hypatius, monk of Constantinople, II 5, 262, 266 Icklingham, 176 Iconium, 189 Icons domestic shrines for, 255 Ignatius of Antioch, 5 I Ilicus, presbyter of Rome, 69
incense, 14, 29, I II, 125 Innocent I, bishop of Rome, 71 insula. See apartments Isaac of Constantinople, II2, II4, II5, II7, II9, 122 Iseo, Church of Saint Andrew, 172 Isis, 43, 46 cult of, 43, 44, 238 priesthoods, 39, 42 prohibitions against, 196 prohibitions of, 45, 240 Isola Comacina church of Santa Eufernia, 172 Italia Annonaria, 170 Italy bishops, 176, 280 nundinae in, 36 properties ofPaulinus of No la in, 155 villa mausolea, 137 villa temples, 34 villa-based asceticism in, 154-155 Italy, northern bishops Christian history, 173-174 defined, 276 economy, 170 elites of, 173-174 mosaics, 170, 173 urban Christian history, 170-172 villa churches, 147-149, 150, 171, 172- 173 villas, 170, 173 Ithacius of Faro, bishop, 183 Iubaltienses, North African plebs, 165 ius publicum, 196 ius sacrum, 26 Jerome, 92, 100 on ascetic practice in Rome, 97-<)9, 100, 101,203 on Origenism, lOO on ritual, 76, 78, 82 on women's asceticism, 204, 206 relationship with Lucinius and Teodora, Spanish ascetics, 152 Jerusalem, 87,94, 185 Church of Holy Sepulcher, 87 relics from, 152 Jerusalem, Heavenly, 225 John and Paul, martyrs, 88, 254
35 2
INDEX
John Chrysostom, 92 and private churches, II 6 church building, 107 exile of, 193 in Antioch, II9-I2O, 207 in Constantinople, II7, II8-I20,I22, . 207, 260 on estate churches, 157 John Rufus, 76 John the Baptist, 154 relics of, 85 Joventius and Maximinus, martyrs, 254 Jovinian, IOO, I02, 317 Jovinianism,99 Judaism. See rituals, Jewish Julius, bishop of Rome, 72 Jumilla,37 juno, 28,30 Jupiter, 26, 27 Dolichenus, 38, 39,42 Justin Martyr, 63 Justinian, II 5 legislation on private churches, 223, 225 Kasserine survey, 164 kitchens, 30 Kyme,23 Lago d'Orta, church of San Giulio, 172 Lalonquette, 268 Lambaesis, 42 Lampius of Barcelona, 185 lamps, 79, 81 in Christian rituals, 54, 78, 98, 205, 212 in Jewish rituals, 53 Laodicea, council of, 193,252 lararium, 234, 255 Lares, 27, 28, 30, 2IO. See also lararium; shrines, household consecration to, 26 Lares compitales, 32 Lares familiaris, 30 , 32 law Christian, 221 on heresy, 190, 191-192, 193, 194, 197-200 Roman on private ritual, 47, 190, 196-197 public/private distinctions, 19
laypersons, 7, 84. See also elites relationship with bishops, 182, 184 relationship with Gregory Nazianzen, II7 Lea, ascetic of Rome, 98 lead tanks, from Britain, 176, 178 Lent, 185 Leo I, bishop of Rome, 95, 96 Leopardus, presbyter of Rome, 69, 93 Lepcis Magna, 163 letters and villa Christianity, .155,156,160 Libel/us precum, 192, 201 Liber Pontificalis, 65, 66, 23 I, 247, 248 Liber, god, 43 Liberius, bishop of Rome, 72, 258 Licinia Eudoxia, empress, I07, II4 Lignon, Testament of, 37 Lincoln, 278 liturgical furnishings, IIO, II7, 135, 157, 158, 181 liturgy. See rituals or eucharist Livianus, deacon of Rome, 69 Llandough,278 Lodi Vecchio, 277 Lombardy, 276 villa churches in, 173 London, 178,278 Loupian, 148, 149-150, 158, 159, 181, 221,279 lucernarium, 78, 212, 243, 287 Lucifer of Cagliari, 192, 201 Luciferians, 193 and private worship, 192,201-202 in Hispania, 192 Lucilla,ftmina nobilis, 84 Lucina, matrona, 247 Lucinius, Spanish ascetic, 185 Lufton,278 Lullingstone, 131-133, 135, 158, 159, 176, 178 Lusitania, I28, 182,280 lustratio, 33, 35 Macarius, ascetic priest of Rome, 78, I02, 192 Macedonians, 194, 198 Macedonius, bishop of Constantinople, 106, I07, II6-II7, 122, 195, 263, 264
353
INDEX
Macedonius, tribunus et notarius, 123 Mackwiller, 42 Macrina, ascetic, 204, 208-212 asceticism as family-based, 208-209, 214 church building efforts, 206 domestic miracles of, 209-210 ritual activities, 205, 206 magia, 44-48, 197, 317 magic, 13 accusations of, 46-48, 58-197 and women, 2 I 3 Priscillian of Avila, 182, 183 and private worship, 46-48, 195, 197, 215 magical papyri, 45, 46 magistri, on rural estates, 164 Magna Mater, 18 cult of, 23, 26, 42, 44, 238 hierarchies in, 39, 42 priesthoods, 43 sanctuaries of, 38,42 Majsan, 142 malifrcium, 196, 197, 213 Mandelieu, 42 Manicheans, 102 and private worship, 192, 194, 196, 198 mansiones, 170 Marathonius, ascetic of Constantinople, II6, 121-122 Marcella, ascetic of Rome, 80,97,98,99, 100, 101, II3, 152, 195,206,245 Marcellina, sister of Ambrose, 78, 98 Marcellus, bishop of Rome, 72, 247 Marialba, 152, 181,279 Mark, bishop of Rome, 72 marriage, 5, 12 and asceticism, 194 homes of married persons, 194 Marsa, II9 Martin of Tours and Sulpicius Severus, 156, 181 image at Primuliacum, 156 relationship with elites, 126 Martres-Tolosane, 181 martyria, 72, 93, 98, 146 and sacred space, 220 dangers of, 206, 207 definition of, 143, 146
in villas, 121, 142, 146, 151-152, 154-155, 158, 166, 169, 181, 186, 217, 218, 223 private, in Constantinople, II 1-II 3, 12 3 Marusinac, 142, 143 mass. See eucharist: rituals of Maternus Cynegius, praetorian prefect, 145-146, 180 Mauretania Caesariensis economy, 162 military sites, 273 settlement patterns, 273 Mauretania Tingitana military sites, 162 settlement patterns, 273 mausolea, 33, 182 and villas, 36-37, 141, 158, 173, 180-181,187,218,256,274 Christian, 135-146 at Annesi, 2 I 2 imperial, 63, 106, IIO Maxentius, emperor, 249 Maximus of Turin, 171, 173, 174 Maximus, bishop of Salona, 269 Maximus, presbyter of Rome, 69 Mayen,34 meals, 58 and eucharist, 55-56, 76 and prayer, 76 blessing during, 55-56, 205 Christian, 20, 50, 58 eucharist at, 242 funerary, 142 Jewish, 53 John Chrysostom's refusal of elite banquets, 120 Mechira, 165, 166, 274, 275 Meharza,275 Melania the Elder, 84,92, 100, 156 visit to N ola, I 55 Melania the Younger in North Africa, 100, 157, 166 in Rome, 61, 62, 76, 78, 97, 98, 101, 206, 207 portrayal of her family, 289 wealth renunciation of, 248 Meletius, II7 mikva'ot, 53
354
INDEX
Milan, 170 as imperial capital, 170 heresy, 192-193, 195, 200 Milreu,35 Minerva, 27, 314 Minucius Felix, 46, 197 miracles healing, 152 Mithras,43 cult of, 38, 39, 42, 43 heirarchies in, 43 hierarchies in, 39 symbolism, 43 mithraea, 21, 25, 38, 40, 42 monarchical episcopate, 242 monasteries, 62, 98, I03, lI2. See also asceticism after Council of Chalcedon, 223 archaeological characteristics of, 272 Augustine's in Hippo, 167 definition of, 156 private, lI3-lI4, lI6, lI7, lI8, 120-123,218 Severinus ofNoricum's on Danube, 217 monks. See also asceticism; and monasteries and bishops in Constantinople, 34, ro6, lI5, lI6, lI8 in private churches, 80, lI2, lI5, lI6, lI8, lI9, 120-123,223 of Severinus ofNoricum, 217 role in rural Christianity, 126 mono episcopate, 50, 58,64 Monophysite controversy, 225 Montanists, 192, 195, 282 Monte da Cegonha, 268 mosaics floor, 5, 128, 133, 140, 143, I49, I70, 173, I74, I76, 178, 179, 180 Christian imagery on, 133, 135, I80 Christian symbols on, I78 in churches, I82, 275 North Africa, I63 sepulchral, I84 vault, 128, I37 Mucrionenses, North African plebs, I66 Muline, 138-141, I42, I59
Mundelsheim, 42 mystery cults. See unoffiicial cults Naples, 217 bishop of, 223, 224 Narbonensis I, 182,279 narthex, I37, I42, I52 Naucratis, brother of Ma er ina, 210 Nazarius, saint, 93 relics of, 85 negotium, 203 neighborhoods and Mithraic cult, 238 in Constantinople, I04, I05, I09 in Rome, 70, 71, I02 shrines of, 238 Neoplatonism, 99, IOO, IOl, 160 Neptune, I78 Nero,200 Nestorius, neoplatonist, IOl Newel, 34, 37 Nicea, council of, I90, I95, 278 Nicomedia, lI6 night and accusations of magic, 46 Nile, 43 Nola, 92, 153, I54, I85 North Africa, 22 bishops, I76, I87 bishops and villa churches, I6I economy, 128, 162, 170 estate clergy, I57 household shrines, 28 nundinae in, 36 reserved eucharist in, 55 settlement types, 162-I64, 167 Stephen relics, 94, 95 villa churches, I27, 146, 150, 163, I87 villa mausolea, I37 villas, 16I Notre-Dame La Daurade, 182 Novatian, 18-20, 52, 57, 64, 76, 22I Novatianists, I12, 246 Novempopulania, 179, I82, 279, 280 Numidia, 162, 165 estate churches in, 166 fortified farms, I62, 163 military sites, 273
355
INDEX
nundinae, 36, 155, 164, 166,274 nympheum, xi, 92,176 oikoi in Christian rhetoric, 245 in Constantinople definition of, ro4 oil, olive, 138 North African, 162 presses, 162, 164 Olybrius, 114 Olympias, II3, II7, 121,260 property near St. Sophia, ro5 Olympius, dedicatee of Life cif Macrina, 208 orants, 132 oratorium definition of, 15 Orfitus, Lucius Cornelius, 18, 19, 42 orientation, of ritual structures, 85, 134, 137-138, 141, 158 Origen, 53, 54, 57, roo Origenist controversy, 99, 195 Orosius,84 orthodoxy. See also heresy definitions of, I I Ossius of Cordoba, 182 Ostia, 23, 28, 30, 33,75,92 otium, 126, 127, 185 Ovid,32 ownership, 14, 63, 64, 66 archaeological evidence for, 15, 130, 165 Pacianus of Barcelona, 182 pagani, 126 pagi, 170, 172 palace. See Rome and Constantinople palace chapels, 85-87, nQ-IIl, 225 palatia, ro 5 Palazzo Pignano, 147-149, 150, 158, 172, 173,277 Palladius, II8, II9 Pammachius, 91, 97, 100, 168, 195, 258 Parnrnachius, titular name, 65 Paphlagonia, 121 Parentalia, 33 parish churches, 16, 150, 182
in Gaul, 225 in Hispania, 225 in northern Italy, 172, 173,225 villa churches compete with, 224 origins of, 126, 130, 150 Hispania, 182 northern Italy, 172 system, II5, 126, 187 topography, 126 Passover, 53 pastophoria, 150, 165 pateifamilias, 28, 32, 51 Patria of Constantinople, 108, II4 patrodnium, I I 8 patronage. See also dependents, 2, 19, 20, 27, 58 and ascetics, 80,99, 102, II5, 122, 12 3 and birthday rituals, 28-30 and bishops, 219 and civic priesthoods, 23-24 and domestic clergy, 80, 102, II8, 120, 12 3 and elites, 184, 219 and estate clergy, 158 household rituals, 29, 32 role in pre-Nicene communities, 49-50, 51, 58 role in private churches, 218 role in unofficial cults, 42 role in villas, 129, 158-159, 160, 184, 187 Paul ofSamosata, 52 Paul, bishop of Constantinople, ro6, I07, II6 Paul, bishop of Naples, 224 Paul, Saint relics of, 84 Paula, ascetic of Rome, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101 Paula, daughter of Laeta, 205 Pauline epistles, 6, 56, 101 Paulinus of No la, roo, 125,217 and cult of Saint Felix, 92, 160, 218 and relic exchange, 84, 85, 92, 93, 156 image of at Primuliacum, 156, 181 in Hispania, 185 letters of, 160, 203
INDEX
poetry of, 180 projects at Nola, 154-155, 160 Paulinus, Sextus Anicius, 96 peasants at Felix' shrine at Nola, 155 Pelagians, 99, 100, 195,281 Pelagius, 99, 100, 102, 258, 259, 291 Penates, 27, 28, 30,210,235 Pergamon, 42, 104 periodization, 9-10, 63 peristyle, 28, 30, 104, 133, 180 Perpetua, martyr, 56 persecutions, of Christians, 45, 196 Peter the Iberian, I I I Peter, bishop of Alexandria, 101 Peter, brother ofMacrina, 208, 209 Peter, saint relics of, 84 Philip, Apostle, 11 3 Philip, presbyter of Rome, 69 Phosphorus, North African landowner, 165 Piedmont, 135,276 villa churches in, 173 Pinianus, husband of Melania the Younger, 166,248 Pius I, bishop of Rome, 72 Placidia, empress, 105, 114 Pliny the Younger, 26, 32, 125, 129, 160 Plotinus, 99, 101, 206 Pluto, 164, 165 Pneumatomachi, 194 poetry and villas, 129, 154, 180, 181 architectural epigrams, 156 repudiation of, 154 pollution, 57, 58, 59 pomerium, 38,44,238 Pompeii, 26, 28, 30 Casa del Menandro, 29 Pontian, bishop of Rome, 64 pontifex, 22, 24, 26 Pontii, 180 Pontius Leontius villa of, 130 Pontus,206 Porphyry, 101 Praetextatus, 43 prayer, 47 Christian
in communal rituals, 50 private, 20, 53-54, 55,76, 125, 133, 135, 158; in ascetic practice, 97, 156,204-205,206; in ascetic ritual, 156 murmured, 47 presbyters. See also clergy, 117 as domini, 184 banned from private masses, 193 Paulinus of No la as, 154 pre-Nicene, 50, 52 role in ritual, 55, 101· role in tituli, 66, 68-69, 71 priesthoods civic, 22-24, 41, 44 Christians as, 22 imperial cult, 165 of Magna Mater and Isis, 238 unofficial cults, 38-44 Primuliacum, estate of Sulpicius Severus, 153, 155-156, 157, 181, 185,279 Priscillian and Trinitarian controversy, 285 Priscillian of Avila activities in Hispania, 182-183, 185, 189, 192 and villas, 147, 161 in Rome, 100 Priscillianists allegations of magic, 222 and families, 199 and private worship, 192,282 and women, 2 I 2 edicts against, 192 later allegations of in Hispania, 184 private definitions of, 2, 12-14,49, 56-58, 63, 74, 160 private churches, 2, 11,217-218. See also villa churches and heresy, 215, 225 benefits of, 119 definition of, 14-15, 109-110, 114-115, 181,230 episcopal control in fifth century, 223-224 funding of, 115-116, 118-119 urban, 17,62,63,65-71,74,75,78-84, 99, 101, 102, 103, 107-123, 125 in the sixth century, 224
357
INDEX
private churches (cont.) women's role in, 205-206 Proba, Anicia Faltonia, 92, 98 Probus, Petronius, 23, 92 Processus and Martinianus, martyrs, !O2 Proclus, bishop of Constantinople, 227 Proconsularis estates in, 162, 164 nundinae, 274 settlement patterns, 162 procuratores, 146, 163, 168 proeseuche, 53 Promotus, magister equitum, 105, II4, II9 Prudentius, 78,180,231,251 pseudo-Athanasius, 204, 207, 244 pseudo-Basil, 203, 204 public definitions of, 2, 49, 58 Pudentia, titular name, 65 Pueblanueva, 137, 138, 142, 158, 180, 279 Puglia, 128 Pulcheria, empress, 1,2, !O5, !O7, II2, 227, 261, 263, 303 purity and Judaism, 245 pyxis, 77
quindecimvir, 22, 38, 44, 239 reception rooms, 12 beneath tituli, 74 in urban houses, 5, 75, 78, !O5 in villas, 5,128,131,133,134,149, 15 8,170,174,176,178,180,181, 269 relics, 75 cult of, 186 in parish churches, 172 intramural, 93--94 private, 2, 14, 84--96, !06-II2, 134, 135, 142, 146, 151-152, 156, 218, 221, 225 res sacra, 25, 26, 27, 33 resistance theories of, 230 retreats, 186 on villas, 183 Richborough, 176
Rimini, council of, 176, 192 rituals. See also eucharist and sacrifice and asceticism, 97--98, II I, 121 Christian private, 20, 53-56, 59, 62,75, 76-78, 82-84, 92, 99, 122, 125, 146, 157, 189-190 and asceticism, 122, 204-205 and heresy, 191-196, 197-202 and women, 209 ideologies of, 56-190, 191, 195-196, 197,200-202,207-208,211,214 in villa churches, 132-133, 135 Christian public, 75, 76, lOl, 121 pre-Nicene, 49-50 fertility, 183 funerary, 32-33, 142 healing, 209-2 !O in tituli, 71 Jewish, 53, 54,78, 205 magical, 45 private defintion of, 14 Roman civic, 16, 19, 43, 44, 59 definitions of, 20-21, 44 Roman private, 16, 58, 131,218,222 accusations of magic, 46-48, 59, 197 and women, 210 definitions of, 19, 21, 44 rural, 33-34, 35, 61, 171, 183 Rockenhausen, 42 Rome, 16, 22, II9 Ad duas lauros, 36, 37 asceticism in, 121, 152, 192 Aventine Hill, 42, 61, 98, lOO basilica building in, 62, 67, 71-73 basilica Iulia iuxta Forum divi Traiani, 249, 250 basilica Lucinae, 249 basilica of Iulius, 249 basilica of Lib er ius, 72, 250 basilica of Mark, 249 Baths ofDiocletian, 252 Caelian Hill, 38, 61, 78, 88, 100 Campo Verano, 61 capeUa near Lateran, 83-84, 85 church factions, 291 Colosseum, 38 development of mono episcopate in, 5 I diversity of Christian groups in, 63-65, 69
INDEX
domus Pinciana, 255 episcopal-palace, 84 Esquiline Hill, 27, 72 food supply, 170 heresy, 192, 195 horti Domitiae Lucillae, 82, 83, 85 house of the Valerii, 78-79, 8 I, 98 household shrines in, 28 intramural relics, 93-94 Lateran, 72, 83, 84, 96 Luciferians, 20 I Manicheans, 192 Pincian Hill, 92, 98, IOO pre-Nicene Christian practice in, 63-65 private churches, 62, 78-84, 99, IOl, 102, 123 Quattro Coronati, 74 reserved eucharist in, 55 Saint Peter's, 96 San Callisto, 249 San Clemente, 40, 74, 250 San Crisogono, 250 San Lorenzo fuori le Mure, 61, 96, 98, 207, 246 San Lorenzo in Damaso, 250 San Pietro in Vincoli, 250 San Sebastiano, 249 San Sisto Vecchio, 250 San Vitale, 250 Santa Anastasia, 250 Santa Balbina, 74 Santa Cecelia, 250 Santa Costanza, 149 Santa Croce in Gerusalemme, 85-87 Santa Maria Maggiore, 72 Santa Pressede, 250 Santa Prisca oratory near, 252 Santa Pudentiana, 250 Santa Sabina, 68 Santa Susanna, 74, 249 Santo Stefano in via Latina, 94-96 Santo Stefano Rotondo, 96 Sessorian palace, 85, 86, 87,90, 1I0 Ss. Apostoli, 249 Ss. Giovanni e Paolo, 75,88-92, 131, 221, 245 basilica of, 250 St. Felix on the Pincian, 92, 98
suburbium, 36, 256 Trastevere, 80, 249 Velabrum, 69 Via Appia, 18, 42, 52, 64 Via Aurelia, I02 Via Latina, 94, 95 Via Tiburtina, 6 I, 96 villa mausolea, 36 villas unofficial cults in, 42 Rome, council of (499), 248 Rome, council of (501),- 248 Rome, council of (502), 69 Romulus Augustulus, 217 Rouis, 165, 168, 275 Rufinus of Aquileia, 92, IOO, 217 Rufinus the Syrian, 258 Rufinus, praetorian prefect, 84, 112, 114, 142, 146, 156. See also Chalcedon: Apostoleion of Rufinus rural bishops, 167-169 Sabbath, 53 Saccophori, 194 sacerdotes provinciae, 22 sacra privata, 13, 38, 48 sacrarium, 125, 130, 131 sacrifice. See also rituals Christian, 54 civic, 21, 22-23, 33, 46, 222, 231 domestic, 30, 31, 33,44 magical, 21, 45 rejected by Christians, 19, 22 rural, 33, 61, 171 Sadaba, J7, 39 saeculum, 120, 203 Sagittius ofLerida, 184 Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges, 182, 185 Saint-Julian-en-Genevois, 172 Salona, 142 salutatio, 30, 122, 129, 155 sanctity private worship and, 190 sanctuary, of church, 134, 137, 149 sarcophagus, 137, 140, 141 Sardica, council of, 278 Saturninus, 106, 1I4, lIS, 1I7, 1I8, 1I9, 122 Saucedo, El, 268, 279 sculpture collections, 128, 129
359
INDEX
Segermes survey, 164 senatorial class expansion of, 5 role in Christianity, 60 unofficial cults and, 39 senators as provincial magistrates, 24 Seneca, stoic philosopher, 160 Septimius Severus, IQ3 Serapis, 38, 231, 239 Serdica, council of, 252 Severinus ofNoricum, 126, 217, 218, 222, 224 relics of, 224
Severus, presbyter of Huesca, 184 shrines household, 25, 26, 27-32, 33, 59,90, 13 1,141,159
Christian, 61, 89---91 Sidonius Apollinaris, I26, 129, 130, 146, 15 2
poetry of, 180 Silchester, 176 silver, domestic, 78-79, 174, 176, 178 Silvia, sister-in-law ofRufinus, 156 Simplicius, bishop of Rome, 96 Siniti, castellum, 168 Siricius, bishop of Rome, 93, 102 Sixtus III, bishop of Rome, 72 Sizzano, 135, 136, 172, 173,277 slaves, 46. See also familia as managers, 155 rituals of, 30. role in private churches, 224 role in unofficial cults, 39 sleep, 1I I Sol, 43, 231, 239 Soldier Saints of Leon, 152 soothsaying prohibitions against, 196, 197 Souk el-Lhoti, ISO, 153, 165, 166,274 Sozomen, 1,2,3,107, 1I0, I l l , 116 space gender, 47 magic, 48 private definitions of, 12, 14, 25 public definitions of, 24-25 sacred
Christian ideas of, 220-222 use of by unofficial cults, 38,44 Spain. See Hispania St. Albans, 176 statues collections of, 235 Step hen, bishop of Rome, 64 Stephen, saint chapel in imperial palace, 262 martyr shrine, 169 relics of, 84, 93, 94---96, 1I2, 152,221, 262
Sulpicius Severus, I26, 153, 181 and relic exchange, 84, 92 letters of, 160 on British bishops, 176 projects at Primuliacum, 155-156, 157, 159, 160, 181, 185-186,221
relationship with local bishops, 186 superstitio, 44, 45, 46, 47, 196, 197 Switzerland villa churches, 141, 173 Syagrii, 184 Syagrius of Huesca, bishop, 184 Sylvester, bishop of Rome, 64, 66, 72 Symmachus, bishop of Rome, 1I9 Synod of the Oak, 1I9 synthronon, 140, 149, ISO Syria asceticism, 121, 122, 123,203 household deities, 32 Tabernacles, feast of, 53 Tacitus,32 Tamujas, El, 279 Tarraconensis, 184 Tarragona, I28 taurobolium, 18, 19, 26, 42, 44, 333 taxation, I28, 157, 174, 175. See also annona and nundinae, 164 temples and nundinae, 165 in villas, 34-36, 158, 159, 164, 165, 18 7
private, 26 definition of, 25 public definition of, 25 rural, 36
INDEX
templum definitio'n of, 25, 130 Tertullian, 53, 54, 55, 57, 83, 102 tetraconch, 137, 145 Tetrarchs palaces and tombs, 261 temple dedicated to, 164 Thagaste, 157, 166 Theodora, Spanish ascetic, 185 Theodore Lector, I I I Theodoric, 87 Theodosian Code. See also law edicts on heresy, 190, 191-192, 193, 194, 197-200 on estate clergy, 157 on villa churches, 146 Theodosian dynasty and heresy legislation, 198 in Constantinople, lO5, I07, 114 quarry marks of, 146 Theodosius I heresy legislation, 194 in Constantinople, 104, I07, 1I 3, 122 Spanish estates, 180 Theodosius 11, I07, I l l , 123 Therasia, wife ofPaulinus of No la, 154, 155 Theveste, 168 Thogonoetum, estate near Fussala, I 57, 167 Thyrsus, saint, 1,2, 1I2, 227 Tiberius, emperor religious legislation, 47, 197 Tibullus, 29 Tiffeltassine, 274, 275 Tigriniani, 92 Tigrinus, presbyter, 95 tituli, 62, 67, 92, lO2, 1I5, 1I9, 217, 245 administration of, 68-69 Aemeliae, 249 Apostolorum, 69 baptisteries in, 86 bishops' role in, 71, I02 Byzanti, 66, 88 Chrysogoni, 248, 250 Cyriaci, 249 Damasi, 247, 248 definition of, 65-68
Equiti, 66, 247, 249 Eusebii, 249 excavations beneath, 73-74 Fasciole, 66 Gaii,249 origins of, 69-70 Pammachii, 88 Pudentianae, 69 sanctae Sabinae, 68 Sylvestri, 66, 247, 249 tensions within, 70-71 Utlilae, 68 Vestinae, 67, 68, 93, 247, 248 titulus. See tituli Tivoli,257 Toledo, council of (400), 157, 192,213 tombs. See graves; mausolea Torre de Palma, 279 Toulouse, 182 Trent, 171 Trinitarian controversy, 32, 123. See also Arians and private worship, 195, 198, 200, 201-202 Constantinople, 1I6, 1I7, 122 Hispania, 192 Rome, 192 Tripolitania economy, 162 fortified farms, 162, 163 military sites, 162 settlement patterns, 162 Trois Hots, 275 trough buildings, 164, 165 True Cross, 84, 86, 92, 93, 1I0, I l l , 156 Turbo, bishop ofEleutheropolis, 201 Turin, 171, 277 Ugljan, 138 Ulpian,26 umgangstempel, 34 unofficial cults, 16, 28, 37-44 in villas, 239 Urbica, relative of Ausonius, 183 Ursicinus, presbyter, 69 Ursinus, candidate for bishop of Rome, 72, 193 usufruct properties ofSulpicius Severus, 272
INDEX
Val, El, 268 Valence, council of, 186 Valentine, villa of, 35, 159 Valentinian I church building in Rome, 250 Valerian, emperor, 45 Valerii, 61 Valerius Severus, 78, 79 Valila, 68, 257 Vandoeuvres, 141, 142, 159, 172, 173 Venetia et Histria, 276 Venusianeses, North African plebs, 166 Venus, 28, 35,90 Vercelli, 277 Verona, 171 Verres use of cult statues in house, 234 Vesatenses, North African plebs, 164 Vesta, goddess, 210 vestibules, 128, 131 in churches, 150 Vesrina, 67, 68, 69, 93 Via de la Plata, 180 viaticum, 55 vici Britain, 176 Italy, northern, 170 North Africa, 162, 164, 167 Victor, bishop of Rome, 64 Victor, consul (369), II4, II5, II7, 122
Victoriana, estate near Hippo, 151 Victricius ofRouen, 85 vicus, 157 at Annesi, 206 vicus Ariciagi, 170 Vigilantius, presbyter, 185 Vigilius ofBrescia, bishop, 172 Vigilius of Trent, bishop, 172 vigils, 78, 97, 102, 192,201, 206, 207 vilica, 34 vilicus, 34, 163,239 villa churches, II9, 125-126, 140, 156, 157, 187,218
advantages of, 157 and asceticism, 154-157 and parish churches, 150,224,225 archaeological evidence for, 129-130, 147, 165
bishops role in, 127 Britain, 176-178 clergy of, 157-158 North Africa, 165-166, 167-169 northern Italy, 172-173 role in rural Christianity, 127 social qualities of, 17, 127, 158-160, 165-166,173,176-179,180-181, 183-187 various types, 129-152 Villa Fortunatus, 133-135, 158, 180, 184, 279 villa temples, 239 villa urbana, 128 Villaro di Ticineto, 172, 277
villas as formative of ascetic practice, 156- 157
as formative of Christian practice, 15 8- 160,161,178-179,180-181, 183-187 as sites of elite identity, 5, 128-129, 157, 160, 161, 163-164, 170, 174, 178, 180, 181, 184 definition of, 23 I late antique trends, 5, 128-129 northern Italy, 170 temples, 34-36, 42 topography of religious buildings, 35, 36,135,141,147,15 0,158, 159 transformation of, 147, 150,223 unofficial cults in, 42 Vincent, martyr, 269 Virgil, 125, 222
Virgin Mary as ascetic model, 186,204 virgins and the home, 203-204 at Annesi, 209 bodies of, 2II, 286 cured by private relics, 152 Vitalis, Saint, 93 Volusianus Lampadius, 255 von Harnack, Adolf, 229 votives, 252 Christian, 79, 142 private, 26 Roman, 18,25,26, 34, 35,45
INDEX
Water Newton treasure, 176, 178 White, L. M., 229 Wigginton, 176 WIne blessed at meals, 55 eucharistic, 205 women, 57 accusations of magic, 47 asceticism and, 186, 191,203-212,214 euergetism and, 47, 2Io-2II, 212 heresy and, 99, 183, 199 in career ofJohn Chrysostom, 265 in domestic space, 12 married, 186 private churches and, 205-206, 210, 212
private worship and, 17,204-205,207, 215 public activities as source of power, 289 public churches and, 206-207 role in Christian ritual, 189 role in unofficial cults, 39 York, 278 Zaragoza, council of, 185, 189, 190, 192, 213,281 Zeno of Verona, 83 Zephyrinus, bishop of Rome, 49 Zeus,28 Zubedi, estate near Hippo, 166
