Julian the Apostate in Byzantine culture 9781032017471, 9781032017488, 9781003179818, 9781000618037, 100061803X, 9781000618082, 1000618080, 1003179819

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Julian the Apostate in Byzantine Culture

Julian, the last pagan emperor of the Roman empire, died in war in 363. In the Byzantine (that is, the Eastern Roman) empire, the figure of Julian aroused conflicting reactions: antipathy towards his apostasy but also admiration for his accomplishments, particularly as an author writing in Greek. Julian died young, and his attempt to reinstate paganism was a failure, but, paradoxically, his brief and unsuccessful policy resonated for centuries. This book analyses Julian from the perspectives of Byzantine Culture. The history of his posthumous reputation reveals differences in cultural perspectives and it is most intriguing with regard to the Eastern Roman empire which survived for almost a millennium after the fall of the Western empire. Byzantine culture viewed Julian in multiple ways, first as the legitimate emperor of the enduring Roman empire; second as the author of works written in Greek and handed down for generations in the language that scholars, the Church, and the state administration all continued to use; and third as an open enemy of Christianity. Julian the Apostate in Byzantine Culture will appeal to both researchers and students of Byzantine perspectives on Julian, Greco-Roman Paganism, and the Later Roman Empire, as well as those interested in Byzantine Historiography. Stefano Trovato is Director of the Biblioteca Universitaria (Ministero della Cultura) in Padua, Italy. His research focuses on the classical tradition, with a special interest in the perceptions of the ancient past in the medieval and modern worlds.

Julian the Apostate in Byzantine Culture

Stefano Trovato Translated by Sergio Knipe

First published in English 2023 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2023 Stefano Trovato Translated by Sergio Knipe The right of Stefano Trovato to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Published in Italian by Forum 2014 British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record has been requested for this book ISBN: 978-1-032-01747-1 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-01748-8 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-17981-8 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003179818 Typeset in Times New Roman by codeMantra

Cytheriacis columbis et omnibus pacem et amorem dantibus

Contents

Foreword Preface

ix xi

I

Son of the devil and sophist of wickedness: the black legend 1

II

A sulphurous and versatile emperor 23

III

The reinvention of Julian by chroniclers, historians, and hagiographers 38

IV

The blood of innocents: the victims of a sovereign who is “deceitful, capable of anything, and skilled in doing evil” 48

V

The blood of innocents: “A great persecution against the Christians” 91

VI

Even the dead against Julian 129

VII  “Constantine, the son of a prostitute, recognized the true God and you abandon him?” Telescoping Julian and Constantine151 VIII  Julian in Byzantine liturgical books, a synthesis of the early medieval Byzantine hagiographical tradition178 IX

Between old stories and new imaginative reconstructions: a glance before the decline of Byzantium 196

viii Contents

X

Approaching the end: a new beginning, longing for a distant past 210

XI

The end: beyond Byzantium 237 Bibliography List of Abbreviations Index

247 305 307

Foreword

Julian, Emperor Constantine’s nephew and successor, ascended the throne at the young age of 30, in 361, in the wake of his successful campaign in Gaul and of a military insurrection. He devoted his reign to an attempt to overthrow the religious policies towards Christians inaugurated by the Constantinian revolution and then consolidated by Constantius II. Within the short span of two years, the young emperor committed himself both to the reform of social and the structures of the Roman State and to the restoration and revitalisation of pagan traditions and forms of worship, in an effort to make them newly attractive. He surrounded himself with the most prominent intellectuals, including rhetoric teachers and the heads of philosophical schools, particularly the Neoplatonists, heirs to a kind of spirituality that could attract the most fervid minds and souls yearning for a new and direct relationship with the divine and its manifestations. Julian’s shocking death during the Persian campaign on 26 June 363 apparently confirmed a prophecy by the elderly Bishop of Alexandria, Athanasius, who had said of him: “This is only a small cloud; it will soon pass”. However, the strength and vitality of the emperor’s attempted restoration and of the means and forces he had deployed were quite clear to St Augustine, who in De civitate Dei was to stress the Apostate’s egregia indoles. Forty years after the emperor’s death, he noted: “What would have happened, if Constantine hadn’t reigned so long, and if Julian hadn’t been stripped of his life so early?” Almost 70 years after the emperor’s death, the Bishop of Alexandria, Cyril, felt the need to compose a powerful and articulate refutation of Against the Galileans, noting that this work, which questioned Christianity’s doctrinal foundations with passionate and competent arguments, continued to elicit much interest and attention. The deep mark left by Julian – whether it was only apparent or truly ­significant – was a question that needed exploring in relation to its endurance in the Byzantine world. But all we had were some partial, limited works by individual authors who provided glimpses of significant traces, yet did not draw a full assessment of the extent of the phenomenon that might make it possible to grasp the web of relations linking different ages and texts. Stefano Trovato’s research, which began during his doctorate at Udine,

x Foreword has been conducted with philological accuracy, critical competence, perseverance, and historical sensitivity and insight. It now provides a broad, in-depth picture of the testimonies from a wide range of Byzantine writers – chroniclers, historians, literary critics, hagiographers, philosophers, theologians, rhetoric teachers, and lexicographers. What is surprising about these authors is the varied way in which they approach Julian: while rejecting his religious views, they respect him as a legitimate representative of imperial authority, to the point of welcoming and honouring his remains in the mausoleum of the Church of the Holy Apostles in Constantinople. They evaluated his skills as a politician, ruler, and general, and acknowledged and appreciated the literary quality of his writings: the Misopogon, Julian’s satire against the Christians of Antioch, was even included among the stylistic models to be imitated in the school of a rhetor from the Palaiologan period, Andreas Lopadiotes. Trovato’s study, which is based on a vast range of printed texts as well as manuscripts and unpublished material, serves as a reliable and well-­ informed guide in what is a complex area from a bibliographical point of view. Trovato has succeeded in identifying hitherto undetected quotes, including fragments of Against the Galileans preserved in a biblical commentary by Procopius of Gaza. In this fascinating itinerary, the various testimonies are carefully analysed, decoded from a literary perspective, translated, commented on, and set in relation to one another so as to reveal borrowings and innovations. It starts with Julian’s contemporaries and ends with Gemistos Plethon, whose date of death, 26 June of a year shortly before the fall of Constantinople and the fall of the Byzantine empire, recalls – in a sinister and conscious way – the day on which the Neoplatonist emperor died. Augusto Guida

Preface

“The dragon, the apostate, the great mind, the Assyrian, the common ­adversary and enemy of all, who has stormed the earth with wild threats and uttered and practices many iniquities against the Most High”: with these words St Gregory of Nazianzus celebrated the news of Julian’s death in 363.1 The first emperor born in Constantinople, the city founded by his uncle Constantine in 363, Julian was raised in a Christian milieu. Upon attaining the highest authority in 363, however, he sought to bring the res publica back to the old polytheistic religion. This earned him the sobriquet of Apostate. Instead of declaring himself a persecutor, he chose to make a show of tolerance and to fan the divisions within Christianity. He also embarked on a tireless propaganda effort and personally penned various works, including a treatise Against the Galileans: this is what he used to call Christians, to deny their universalism. The emperor was a gifted writer, as the Patriarch of Alexandria, Cyril, was to acknowledge when he set out to refute him in Against Julian. Wounded in battle against the Persians on 26 June 363, Julian died without having appointed a successor.2 From that moment onwards, Roman emperors were to be Christians and paganism progressively disappeared from the Empire. However, Julian’s very short reign reverberated across the following centuries. Owing to its peculiar characteristics, Byzantine culture was able to approach Julian in varied and in certain cases surprising ways: it was the only post-Classical culture that spoke and wrote in Greek, was Orthodox, and retained a Roman identity.3 The Byzantine Empire is what the Roman res publica became when the Christian element acquired an ideologically foundational role: “In Byzantium, Orthodoxy reserved the absolute claim to truth”.4 The figure of Julian – an established author in Greek literature, an enemy of Christianity, and a legitimate Roman emperor – therefore elicited different reactions in the 1,000-year history of Byzantium. He could be appreciated as a writer and emperor, yet never for his religious choices. Indeed, he was often made an object of censure in a way that became somewhat of a leitmotiv. In the passions of many saints, he is presented not as a sovereign who shows tolerance, but as a cruel persecutor who devises unspeakable tortures and lacks any of the peculiarities that make him a unique figure. He is “the devil’s son”, an emulator of Judas Iscariot, the perpetrator

xii Preface of a savage persecution, a “sophist of wickedness” (or “sophist of lies”) who is so skilled in his evil activities that several authors describe him through the word used for Ulysses in the first verse of the Odyssey: polytropos, i.e. “versatile”. Sometimes heavenly wrath is presented as the sole salvation for Christians, who would otherwise be destined to succumb to such a stubborn, relentless, and skilled enemy whose actions are proving so successful both within the empire and beyond its borders, both on the religious and on the military level, as he is converting Christians back to paganism en masse and bringing home resounding victories against the Persians.5 However, Julian is also the author of Greek literary works, which were largely read and transmitted by generations of Byzantine copyists. Non-­ hostile voices, while rare, are not entirely missing from Byzantium. Moreover, the presence of his tomb in the imperial mausoleum within the Church of the Twelve Apostles in Constantinople, which may seem paradoxical, made it quite evident to everyone that he belonged to the legitimate series of Roman emperors. This book aims to present Julian’s many faces in the Orthodox Roman world. Chapter 1 is devoted to the influence of Gregory of Nazianzus’ invective and to the almost obsessive presence within it of the image of Julian as an enemy of Christianity, as witnessed for example by the recurrent phenomenon of “new Julians”. Chapter 2 concerns the Byzantines’ attitude to Julian as a writer and emperor who was sometimes appreciated, although this judgement never extends to his religious policies. Chapter 3 introduces the fictional Julian of hagiographers, historians, and chroniclers, authors who were very popular in Byzantium (as in the case of Symeon the Metaphrast) and hence prove crucial in order to understand how the Apostate was presented to the public at large. In the subsequent chapters, through individual hagiographical or historical works, we will follow the evolution of this fictional Julian: a sometimes skilled and shrewd (Chapter 4), but most often cruel and ruthless (Chapter 5), persecutor against whom deceased saints perform posthumous miracles (Chapter 6). Chapter 7 concerns hagiographical works that acquire further meaning by contrasting Julian and Constantine, and Chapter 8 liturgical books which in the 10th and 11th centuries summed up much of the previous hagiographical production. Chapter 9 deals with various chroniclers and historians who drew upon pagan sources: a particularly notable figure is Michael Psellus, who offers a remarkable and ambiguous portrayal of Julian. Chapter 10 is devoted to authors from the Komnenian period, and the Conclusion (Chapter 11) to Julian’s last traces in the Byzantine imagination, in the years leading up to the fall of Constantinople.

Notes 1 Bernardi 1983, 86. 2 On Julian, see Rebenich/Wiemer (2020); on his religious policies, see Teitler (2017).

Preface  xiii 3 See Kaldellis/Siniossoglou (2017, 1–4). 4 Gutas/Siniossoglou (2017, 279). According to Kaldellis (2007, 118), the return to ancient Greek culture was a phenomenon limited to a few, isolated intellectuals, at least up until the Fourth Crusade. 5 The devil’s son: in the passions BHG 465b (Trovato 2018, 70 e 79), BHG 219 (Delehaye 1910, 294), and BHG 1763b (Latyšev 1911, 91), in letters traditionally believed to have been addressed to Emperor Theophilus (Munitiz 1997, 89, 115, and 155), and in an anonymous sermon (Von Dobschütz 1899, 239**). Emulator of Judas: BHG 560 (Van den Gheyn 1900, 313). Author of the most savage persecution: Gregory of Nazianzus or. 21.32 (Mossay 1980, 178), Symeon the Metaphrast, passions BHG 172 (PG 115, 1161D) and BHG 1763 (AASS Nov. IV, 44), from which the Imperial Menologion derives (Latyšev 1911, 91); Theodore Skoutariotes, Synopsis chronike (Sathas 1894, 56). Infallibility in his pagan restoration: Philostorgius VII.1 (Bleckmann/Stein 2015a, 302), Theodoret H. E. III.8.1 (Parmentier 1998, 185), Georgios Monachos IX.3 (De Boor 1978, 548), Pseudo-Symeon, from which Kedrenos 321 derives (Tartaglia 2016, 531), Theophylact of Bulgaria, passion BHG 1199 (Kiapidou 2015, 86), Ephrem Historia Chronica 458–460 (Lampsidis 1990, 21). Sophist of wickedness: BHG 1024 (Latyšev 1914, 36); sophist of lies in a menaion (Spanos 2010, 262). Evil skill, expressed through terms such as kakotekhnia and cognates: Philostorgius VII.4 (Bleckmann/Stein 2015a, 312), followed by Nikephoros Kallistos X.13 (PG 146, 477; in X.36 in PG 146, 560 Nikephoros uses the adjective kakomekhanos), BHG 465b (Trovato 2018, 70 and 78), BHG 1763 (AASS Nov. IV, 44). Versatile (polytropos): Paschal chronicle (PG 92, 741), passion BHG 1770 (De Lagarde 1882, 128), Imperial Menologion (Latyšev 1911, 91, 1912, 71) and, in the superlative form, passion BHG 1024 (Latyšev 1914, 36). Many Christians led into apostasy: or. 7.11 by Gregory (Calvet-Sebasti 1995, 208), Homil. III.10 by Asterius (Datema 1970, 33), Parastaseis 47 (Preger 1989, 53), passion BHG 243 (Krascheninnikov 1907, 3), menologion of Basil II (PG 117, 365 and 573), Psellus, Historia syntomos 58 (Aerts 1990, 40); Theophylact of Bulgaria, passion BHG 1199 (Kiapidou 2015, 82), Nikephoros Gregoras in Rhomaike historia XIX.1.6 and Elogium Mercurii (PG 148, 1192 and Binon 1937a, 73). Great victory over the Persians: BHG 1023 (AASS Iun. III, 296). Heavenly blow (or spear) killing Julian: passions BHG 465b (Trovato 2018, 72 and 81) BHG 638 and BHG 639 (Devos 1982, 227; Latyšev 1915, 88; Klien-Paweletz 2002, 184), BHG 1023 (AASS Iun. III, 296); Constantinopolitan Synaxarion (Delehaye 1902, 503–504 and 754), BHG 849–850 (Latyšev 1910, 24). In Theodore Skoutariotes’ Synopsis the blow is described as “invisible” (Sathas 1894, 57).

I

Son of the devil and sophist of wickedness The black legend

I.1  Julian and the reception of Gregory After Arius’ condemnation for heresy at the first ecumenical council of 325, Constantius II, Constantine’s son, chose to support the Homoean Church, which was described as “Arian” by her adversaries.1 Upon Constantius II’s death, Julian allowed the bishops exiled by his predecessor to return to their cities in order to exploit Christian infighting.2 Orthodox and other non-­ Homoean Christians (such as Homoeousians Anomoeans) took advantage of the Apostate’s anti-Homoean policies. As Philostorgius recalls in his History (IX.4), the emperor aided the Anomoean Aetius, and there are no signs of concern in the letters written in Julian’s day by the future champions of Orthodoxy, Gregory of Nazianzus and Basil the Great.3 The Orthodox tradition of the Patriarchate of Alexandria presents Julian’s rise to power in favourable terms: “when Julian was sole ruler, there was a break in the persecution of the Orthodox, and indeed everywhere orders [were given] by Emperor Julian that Orthodox priests persecuted in the age of Constantius II be pardoned”.4 This policy of the Apostate in favour of non-Homoean Christians was never entirely forgotten over the following centuries. The Orthodox Socrates, in his Ecclesiastical History (II.38.23–25 and III.11.3), bears witness to the fact that Julian ordered the reconstruction of two churches used not by Orthodox Christians, but by Novatianists.5 In the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion (a 10th-century liturgical book, cf. Chapter VIII) we read that Cyril of Constantinople, who had been exiled by Constantius II, was able to reclaim his episcopal see thanks to Julian, who sought to “earn everyone’s goodwill”.6 As late as the beginning of the 14th century, Niketas Choniates does not stress Julian’s anti-Christian policy in the Thesaurus orthodoxae fidei at all. In fact, in book 5, describing the Arian heresy, the Apostate is presented as someone who gave the Orthodox some respite after Constantius II’s persecution. The tone here is reminiscent of the Alexandrian tradition centuries before (although the text adds that Julian acted in such a way in order to discredit the deceased emperor): “Julian seized power and, censuring and

DOI: 10.4324/9781003179818-1

2  The black legend condemning Constantius II’s cruelty towards his subjects, ordered all bishops to be recalled from exile, not without calumnies”.7 However, this was not the dominant representation of Julian’s religious policy during the Byzantine millennium. Upon the news of the emperor’s death, Gregory of Nazianzus – who, along with his friend Basil the Great, had been a fellow student of Julian’s in Athens – wrote a lengthy and violent tirade against the deceased. This was soon followed by a second, equally virulent invective.8 This polemic may have been intended to make people forget about the compromising friendly relations between the author, his brother Caesarius, his friend Basil, and the emperor.9 The attack was a success. After their death, Basil and Gregory were to be honoured as saints and Church Fathers. They enjoyed huge popularity in Byzantium:10 Gregory of Nazianzus has been described as the most widely quoted authority after the Bible.11 At the end of his second invective against Julian (or. 5.42), the saint wrote that he hoped to have erected a stele establishing the Apostate’s infamy for everyone to see: this goal too was met in the Byzantine world. The effects of Gregory’s popularity were varied and often paradoxical, on account of his contradictory attitude with regard to the importance to be assigned to the Apostate. On the one hand, as illustrated by the cry of jubilation that opens the first invective,12 Gregory did not regard a figure such as Julian and the threat he posed as secondary. On the other, in open conflict with the length and vehemence of these tirades, Gregory seeks to dismiss the emperor’s importance. His condescension and mockery are evident, for instance, in or. 4.67: “Who are you, and what are you worth, and where do you come from?”13 The first and most obvious effect of Gregory of Nazianzus’ vast popularity in the Byzantine world is the demonising of the figure of the Apostate. Insults,14 fanciful inventions, and distortions of his reign that appear in Gregory for the first time occur almost as topoi in the portrayal of the Apostate in Byzantine literature. In an oration delivered in 362 (Apologeticus), Gregory already declares that he is ready to die for Christianity, even though his unnamed enemy (evidently, Julian), described as a “beast”, is “the most savage of all frenzied madmen” (or. 2.87).15 His “persecution” is defined as “the most savage” (or. 21.32).16 The emperor is described as the most cruel and impious of all in other passages by Gregory, as well as in those by subsequent authors, including John Chrysostom, who in turn was imitated by other writers.17 Gregory sees Julian as “wise in wickedness”, and this verdict too was taken up by later authors.18 Sometimes Gregory is borrowed verbatim, as in the Passion of Manuel, Sabel, and Ishmael (BHG 1024), in which Symeon the Metaphrast emphasises how the Apostate’s sharp mind is second to none when it comes to plotting evil,19 an evident allusion to a very similar passage by Gregory of Nazianzus: “There has never been a more ingenious mind in inventing and contriving mischief” (or. 5.3).20 In other hagiographical texts as well (those on Arthemius and Theodore the Tyro), the Metaphrast repeats Gregory’s opinion with a few variations.21 Likewise, the news about Theodore the Tyro in the Imperial Menologion, derived from

The black legend  3 the Metaphrast, is an example of the indirect popularity of Gregory’s opinion.22 Theognostos, the author of Thesaurus, a handbook on the Christian faith written between 1204 and 1252, documents this opinion’s endurance even in a late age.23 Another example of a hagiographical text influenced by Gregory is the Passion of Elpidius, Marcellus, and Eustochius (only known through the summary of it included in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion), in which Elpidius in the end denounces Julian as an apostate with words alluding to Gregory’s invectives.24 Events described by Gregory for the first time are later repeated within Byzantine literature. For example, the immediate collapse of a votive shrine erected by the teenage Julian, who was apparently still a Christian at the time (or. 4.25–26), is described by various Church historians between the 5th and the 7th centuries, and later by various Byzantine chroniclers.25 This episode also reflects a tendency to demonise the Apostate: sometimes, just as the cruel actions performed by the emperor are exaggerated, so the degree of his involvement in Christianity prior to his apostasy is inflated in such a way as to make his anti-Christian behaviour seem even more ghastly.26 According to Gregory (or. 4.23 and 4.52), Julian was baptised and then made a lector, one of the first steps in the priestly hierarchy. This information is found – in amplified form – in later authors, including Socrates (H.E. III.1.19) and Sozomen (H.E. III.1.19) in the 5th century, according to whom the Apostate had been a monk.27 These authors are the source of an Epitome of Ecclesiastical Histories (CHAP 593), whose description of Julian as a monk and lector 28 either directly or indirectly influenced many ­Byzantine chronicles, including the widely-read ones by Theophanes, George the Monk, and the Logothete, which in turn were used by later authors. In Quaestio 79 Anastasius Sinaita goes so far as to emphasise that Julian was one of the many people who “for almost the whole of their lives distinguished themselves positively, only to fall into sin towards the end of their lives”.29 Another piece of information first found in Gregory later occurs in various Byzantine chroniclers. Gregory states (or. 21.26) that on his deathbed Constantius II was repentant for the massacre of his relatives in 337, for Julian’s appointment as Caesar in 355, and – finally – for having left Orthodoxy.30 This repentance is also mentioned by Theophanes (on whom other authors, such as Constantine Manasses, depend)31 at the beginning of the 9th century,32 by Zonaras in the 12th,33 and in Theodore Skoutariotes’ Synopsis.34 An anonymous commentary on Gregory’s orations against Julian, who is called “thrice wretched”, “tyrant”, and “most impious tyrant”,35 further documents that the emperor’s terrible repute in Byzantium (including in art)36 is often associated with the popularity enjoyed by Gregory. Likewise, John Sikeliotes attacks the Apostate in the commentary on Hermogenes he wrote after 1025, and in which – among other things – he states his preference for Gregory of Nazianzus over Demosthenes.37 The very figure of Gregory is involved in this process of distortion, since he is sometimes presented as the Apostate’s main opponent.

4  The black legend Towards the end of his second invective (or. 5.39), Gregory presents himself as destined, along with Basil, to become a victim of the last and harshest persecution planned by the Apostate. The next step was taken in the 5th century by Sozomen (H.E. V.18.2), according to whom Julian chose to expel Christians from rhetoric schools because he felt that his plans were being thwarted by Christian scholars such as Apollinaris and the Cappadocians Basil and Gregory, who “surpassed the orators of their day in fame”.38 Later, in the 14th century, Nikephoros Kallistos Xanthopoulos was to draw upon Sozomen’s passage, altering it in such a way as to lend Gregory greater prestige. Sozomen omits Apollinaris’ name and argues that the reason behind the anti-Christian school legislation was the fame enjoyed by Gregory and Basil, but especially – Nikephoros emphasises – by the former (Historia ecclesiastica X.25).39 Likewise, the hagiographical tradition on Gregory tends to omit Basil’s name in such a way as to highlight the opposition between the emperor and Gregory. For example, Gregory the Presbyter, in Chapter 8 of a biography of the saint whose name he bears,40 presents this Cappadocian Father alone as a key opponent of the Apostate’s religious policies, by virtue of his literary production.41 In his verses on Gregory, Theodore Prodromos emphasises his poetic output, which is seen as a response to the Apostate’s attempt to monopolise Greek culture: “O Julian, why do you censor culture and deprive me of Homer’s Muse? […] I shall recite Gregory – you go ahead and hide the whole of Homer!”42 In the commentary Ad Carmina Gregorii Theologi (CPG 3043, attributed to Cosmas of Jerusalem), a lengthy presentation of the apostate and persecuting emperor ends with praise of Gregory of Nazianzus as the author who most “wounded God’s enemy with countless arrows, both when Julian was still alive and after his death”.43 Gregory’s most prolific commentator, Basilius Minimus, who was writing in the age of Constantine VII, seems more interested in the rhetorical and formal aspects of the invectives,44 yet repeats the same hearsay about Christians having been secretly killed and thrown into Antioch’s river.45 Symeon the Metaphrast, who later drew upon Gregory in his hostility towards the Apostate, may have been a pupil of Basilius’.46 Another widespread Christian tradition that appears in embryonic form in Gregory’s first invective relates to the discovery of the remains of human sacrifices after the Apostate’s death. In the first invective (or. 4.92) this tradition is not assigned much prominence: it is only mentioned along with other unconfirmed hearsay, as though Gregory himself did not find the information he was reporting very trustworthy. In the second invective (or. 5.13), the blow that kills the Apostate is defined as the blow by which “he pays the penalty for the many entrails from the sacrifices which he had wrongly trusted”.47 These are unspecified victims: ambiguously, Gregory does not seem to rule out that Julian may have performed human sacrifices. In the 5th century, Historia ecclesiastica III.26, Theodoret instead for the first time reports the news of a pregnant woman’s disembowelment upon

The black legend  5 Julian’s departure for the war against Persia, presenting it as a certain piece of information that has been confirmed by reliable witnesses. According to George the Monk,48 one of the most popular Byzantine chroniclers, countless women were disembowelled. This tendency towards demonisation is carried so far that in a Byzantine exorcism (BHG 461) attributed to St Cyprian in the textual tradition, among the saints invoked, after the Maccabees and before the victims of the Massacre of the Innocents, we find 12,660 martyrs from Julian’s reign,49 a figure which may allude to the numbers in Revelation.50 Another outcome of this demonisation process is the epithet “devil’s son” that is sometimes associated with Julian.51 As we have seen, one particular aspect of Gregory’s polemic is his eagerness to undermine the image of Julian as a charismatic figure created by pagan propaganda. In the second invective, Gregory belittles and ridicules the circumstances of Julian’s death. Hence, he does not mention any divine intervention, saints striking Christianity’s enemy from the heavens, or prophecies foretelling his death in a climate of religious fervour, although in all likelihood rumours of this sort were already circulating.52 This choice not to assign any greatness – albeit of a negative sort – to the emperor’s final moments is not followed in many historical and hagiographical texts. Already, by the 5th century, we find Sozomen reporting the news of the Apostate’s miraculous death, while in the Middle Ages the news started circulating that St Mercury had been entrusted by the Virgin with the task of mortally wounding the enemy of the Christian faith.53 Even hagiographical texts which do not mention St Mercury nonetheless recall that a mortal blow was delivered from the heavens.54 Another formula of this sort (“heavenly spear”) is used in the notice on St Theodoret of Antioch in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion.55 However, Gregory’s influence is substantial with regard to this particular aspect too since, in rewriting the passion of Manuel, Sabel, and Ismael in the 10th century, a highly popular author such as Symeon the Metaphrast omitted the reference to the heavenly origin of the deadly blow and followed – in the form as much as the content of his work – Gregory’s belittling of Julian.56 Likewise, Gregory employs the epithet “Apostate” which was to become widespread in the Middle Ages, when it competed with parabates (“Trasgressore”), which would appear to have made its first appearance in Syria in the 6th century, if we consider only authors whose writing can be dated with certainty.57 Gregory’s influence is also noticeable in readers’ annotations in an important manuscript: codex Vat. gr. 156, to which we owe the transmission of the New History (CHAP 501) written by the last pagan historian, Zosimus, an admirer of Julian. Indeed, of the three annotators who mention Julian, two are clearly influenced by Gregory’s polemic.58 One hand (so-called hand B), possibly John Xiphilinus, is responsible for two annotations on passages about Julian that clearly follow Gregory. In the first (on Zosimus III.1.3) the Apostate is described (as in or. 4.62 and 4.82) as even more changeable and

6  The black legend deceptive than the mythological Proteus: “He is naive, yet certainly more cunning and deceptive than Proteus himself”. In the second annotation (on Zosimus III.32.6), with regard to the polemic about the peace between Jovian and the Persians, the ironic nickname “Idolian” (i.e. idol-worshipper) is used, which was originally coined by Gregory in or. 4.77. Xiphilinus is willing to acknowledge that the Empire was “revived”, albeit in a temporary and not stable way, by the Apostate’s reforms, but this observation too may derive from Gregory, who with reference to Julian’s reforms in or. 4.75 states that they have brought only a passing happiness.59 Hand B concludes that “the impious one is not worthy of being exhumed, less still praised”, which confirms the influence of Gregory’s animus.60 Even hand C is influenced by Gregory in its only annotation, which concerns precisely Julian and, more specifically, Zosimus III.3.3 (the passage in which the last pagan historian refers to the number of barbarians who died in the battle of Strassbourg of 357 – 60,000). This anonymous hand from the late 12th century accuses Zosimus of having inflated the figure to attribute “hyperbolical feats” to Julian, since even “those who greatly admire him and lavish praise on his actions say that 6,000 barbarians fell in that battle”.61 The reference to those who praise Julian is an evident allusion to Gregory, who in many passages of his invectives denounces the existence of the Apostate’s admirers.62 Another example of Gregory’s reception in the Byzantine Middle Ages is the spread of his caustic physical portrayal of the future Apostate among several authors (in or. 5.23–24).63 It is quoted by Socrates (H.E. III.23.18–26), Gregory the Presbyter in Chapter 8 of his Vita S. Gregorii Theologi (CPG 7975 = BHG 723–723c),64 and Nikephoros Kallistos Xanthopoulos (H.E. X.37); an echo of it is also to be found in Michael Psellos’ Historia Syntomos 57.65 Gregory’s polemic (in or. 4.107–109) against the law prohibiting Christians from teaching in rhetoric schools is taken up by George the Monk and in a Quaestio that used to be attributed to Anastasius Sinaita.66 The direct and indirect borrowing of information critical of Julian from Gregory is not limited to his two invectives. For example, in a subsequent oration (or. 21.33) Gregory describes the fate of the Apostate’s grave in Tarsus, which was wrecked by earthquakes. This passage is drawn upon by George the Monk and, centuries later, by Michael Glykas and Theognostus,67 either directly or indirectly via George the Monk.68 Paradoxically, Gregory’s influence is also detectable in relation to certain assessments that go in Julian’s favour: while hostile and polemical towards him, Gregory, who was writing just after the emperor’s death, could not present him as an open persecutor, but chose to describe him as a hypocrite (e.g. in or. 4.57 and 4.79) who had left the task of acting violently to others. Gregory’s influence is evident in an ethopoeia by Nikephoros Chrysoberges that pictures a Christian teacher’s reaction to Julian’s edict on schools. The author practically ransacks Gregory’s invectives69 and is therefore very hostile towards the Apostate; however, he does not depict him as a persecutor. The respect due to an author whose texts were considered almost holy

The black legend  7 writ thus produces contradictory effects: on the one hand, Gregory contributes to the development of Julian’s black legend; on the other, he sometimes prevents the Apostate from being portrayed in all passions of saints as a persecutor who tortured countless Christians to death.70

I.2  Different Julians across many ages and places For many Byzantines throughout the ages Julian was an obsessive presence, just as he was for Gregory. After the lengthy series of insults and sarcastic expressions contained in Gregory’s two invectives, the predominance of this markedly negative image is documented by the many examples in which the “villain” or enemy of the day is compared to the Apostate, or even labelled as a “new Julian”. Compromising one’s personal opponents through this charge was a strategy that could conveniently be deployed against anyone (emperors or patriarchs, dignitaries or literati, clergymen or laymen).71 The epithet “new Julian” is especially associated with iconoclast emperors. Leo III is compared to the Apostate in one of the several redactions of a letter which, according to tradition, was addressed to Theophilus – the last iconoclast emperor – by the Orthodox patriarchs.72 Likewise, according to Theophanes, Leo III’s son, Constantine V Copronymus, was described as the “new Valens and Julian” by Andrew of Crete,73 and in the Vita Stephani iunioris (Chapter 65) by Stephen the Deacon BHG 1666 he is called the “new Julian”.74 This comparison with the last pagan emperor is taken up by George the Monk, who throws the following accusation at Constantine V: “The damned and impious one, the new Julian, having walked away from the Virgin and all the saints, adored Aphrodite and Dionysus, and offered them human sacrifices”.75 Similarly, Leo V, another iconoclast emperor, is compared to the Apostate in a letter (ep. 417) of January 821 by Theodore the Studite, which begins with an allusion to the opening of Gregory’s first invective and ends by accusing Leo V of being an enemy of all the saints.76 Centuries later, the same accusation was hurled at Michael VIII, who had first brought about a schism within the Orthodox Church (the Arsenite schism) and then championed the unification of the Orthodox and the Catholics. Meletius, who according to the historian George Pachymeres (Historia VII.3) did not hesitate to address Michael VIII in person using the slanderous name of Julian,77 was punished by having his tongue cut out. The same hostility towards the Latin Church led an anonymous 13th-­ century poet to compare the Italians to the Apostate because of their use of unleavened bread, which was permitted to the Catholics but not the Orthodox: “these Italians are Julians”.78 The rest of the poem is addressed to a single person: an “apostate Satan” who is accused of wishing to pollute the food that the Orthodox eat,79 i.e. of using unleavened bread for the liturgy.80 One Orthodox Patriarch of Constantinople, Michael Cerularius, was accused of being like Julian in one specific respect. In an oration penned in

8  The black legend 1058 but never delivered, Michael Psellos, alluding to Gregory of Nazianzus, compared Cerularius’ hypocritical and rebellious attitude towards Michael VI to that of Julian towards Constantius II.81 In another passage from the same oration, Psellos goes so far as to compare Cerularius to the sacrilegious “Julians”, in contrast to pagans (“Hellenes”) before Julian, whom he regards as having been more humane.82 The Vita Euthymii Sardensis (BHG 2145) draws an analogy between the last iconoclast emperor Theophilus’ policies and one aspect of Julian’s anti-­ Christian policy: namely, his concern to strike out against religious enemies by invoking motivations not formally connected to their religious choices, so as to avoid the charge of persecution.83 The very same charge of carrying out a hidden persecution is directed against the Monothelite emperors, who are compared to Julian in a 7th-­ century Orthodox text, the so-called Hypomnesticon written by Theodore Spudaeus sometime after 668.84 However, the accusation of imitating Julian was not addressed against emperors and patriarchs alone, but also against high officials. One wellknown case is that of Leo Choirosphaktes, who served as a diplomat ­under Leo VI before being exiled. Aretas wrote a pamphlet against him titled ­Misogoes – an allusion to Julian’s Misopogon – and partly influenced by Gregory of Nazianzus’ invectives.85 Choirosphaktes is accused of impiety and compared to Julian,86 whom he is invited to join in hell on the grounds of his being an imitator of Porphyry and the Apostate.87 Aretas also compares other opponents of his to Porphyry and Julian (in scr. 15 Westerink), accusing them of imitating the quibbles of Christianity’s enemies through their sophisms, in contrast to the Gospel’s straightforwardness.88 In the first half of the 7th century, Strategius, who had witnessed the fall of Jerusalem to the Persian army, wrote an account of this event in Greek (CPG 7846) that is only known in full via later Georgian and Arabic versions.89 In this text he lambastes the imperial authorities and presents Bonosus (comes Orientis in the years 609–610) as the main person responsible for the misfortunes which have occurred. Chapter 4 describes the divine punishment meted out to Bonosus after his death: the comes’ soul ends up in a well which had not been opened “since the time of the wicked Julian”, to whom the deceased is therefore compared.90 In the cases examined so far the comparison is explicit, but there are also some instances in which the polemic against Julian conceals a harsh attack on easily identifiable contemporary people. Conversely, a violent attack on a prominent Byzantine personality may sometimes be seen to conceal an implicit comparison with the Apostate. For instance, after the 451 schism between the Orthodox and monophysites, Juvenal, the Patriarch of Jerusalem, who had sided with the former, came to be referred to as “Juvenal the apostate” by the monophysites.91 Another implicit comparison between Julian and theological opponents in Late Antiquity may be found in the Georgian account of Gregory the

The black legend  9 Thaumaturge’s martyrdom, written under Emperor Zeno (474–491). The Apostate and the saint do not champion theses associated, respectively, with paganism and Christianity, but rather views that can be traced back to the theological disputes of the late 5th century: the saint upholds views close to those of the Patriarch of Constantinople, Acacius, who supported the (so-called Henotikon) edict issued by Zeno in 482 in an attempt to settle the controversies between dyophysites and monophysites through some kind of compromise. Julian instead upholds theses reminiscent of those of Acacius’ opponents; hence, in this case too his name is used against enemies within the Christian ranks.92 Moreover, the Julian featured in this hagiographical text also defends theses that seem typical of the Jews;93 and this is another attack on Acacius’ opponents. Another implicit comparison associated with religious polemics is owed to Bishop John of Thessaloniki, who was active in the first half of the 7th century. In his homily De Christi resurrectione (CPG 7922), while not explicitly mentioning Julian and the source from which he draws his quote, John reports the emperor’s criticisms of the Gospel. In several passages of a redaction of another work of his (Dormitio Virginis), the bishop repeatedly asserts the primacy of St Peter, and hence of the Church of Rome. This redaction (known as the “Praecipua lectio interpolata”) of the Dormitio virginis, found in a menologion within the 11th-century cod. Vind. Hist. gr. 45 (olim 14), was drastically censored as a result of the growing enmity between Catholics and Orthodox, and of the tendency to regard both Christian heretics and the followers of other religions as enemies of the true faith. To justify the censoring of the Dormitio virginis and facilitate its author’s demotion from the rank of Christian (albeit a heretical one) to that of pagan, Julian’s name was exploited, as is attested in an annotation – probably from the Palaeologan age – in c. 139v of the codex: The thirteen leaves that have been excised from this book contained Julian the Apostate’s speeches. Having read these speeches and realised that they were dangerous, the kathegoumenos and protosyncellus of the venerable monastery of St John the Forerunner excised the thirteen leaves and cast them into the sea. The remaining leaf I will leave, as it marks the beginning of the chapter. Instrumental equation with the Apostate was therefore a convenient way to justify the condemnation – and hence removal from a menologion – of a text regarded as problematic on account of the primacy it assigned to the bishopric of Rome. The execration and condemnation of the last ­pagan emperor are so strong as to extend even to one of the many authors who have criticised him, and who in the end is paradoxically compared to Julian.94 The instrumental use of the Apostate’s figure in contexts internal to Christianity is also illustrated by an apocryphal letter to Julian by Basil the Great

10  The black legend which was presented at the Second Council of Nicaea of 789, condemning iconoclasm.95 This forgery defends the veneration of images: it therefore appears to be an attack against the iconoclast emperors, seen as new Julians. In the same period, according to Kedrenos, Emperor Constantine VI threatened to reopen the idols’ temples and hence, implicitly, to follow the Apostate, if the Patriarch of Constantinople, Tarasios, opposed his marriage plans. This piece of information may be a justification that Tarasios later came up with in an attempt to clear himself of the blame of having yielded to Constantine VI’s claims.96 But the fact remains that the emperor who, during the Council of Nicaea of 787, had been acclaimed as the “new Constantine”97 was rumoured to have been ready to play the role of a new Julian. An implicit comparison between Julian and Emperor Alexius Comnenus has been detected in a treatise that Theophylact of Ohrid wrote in defence of eunuchs, certainly after 1089 (and perhaps after 1107–1108).98 Among those hostile to eunuchs Theophylact also lists Julian, who opposed them because most of them were Christians.99 According to Spadaro, Theophylact displays possibly even greater enmity towards Justinian, another emperor who did not like eunuchs; hence, “Theophylact essentially pretends to be targeting Justinian and his management of the State apparatus: in reality, what he has in mind is a present equally discriminatory and bitter for eunuchs”.100 However, Julian’s hatred for eunuchs, which is associated with his hatred for Christianity, is mentioned, and therefore the invitation addressed to Comnenus not to follow in the Apostate’s footsteps is in any case evident. Furthermore, the aforementioned ethopoeia by Nikephoros C ­ hrysoberges – which pictures a Christian school teacher complaining after being prevented from teaching by the Apostate’s edict – might conceal a criticism of the Comnenian emperors’ school policies.101 By contrast, in the speech which, according to tradition, the Humanist bishop John Mauropous delivered in 1083 to celebrate the establishment of the feast of the Three Hierarchs (Basil the Great, Gregory of Nazianzus, and John Chrysostom), the unnamed target reminiscent of Julian would not appear to be an emperor or ecclesiastical dignitary (it may instead by ­Michael Psellos).102 The charge of imitatio Iuliani may also be levelled in paradoxical ways: sometimes, what we find is someone being accused not of being a “new ­Julian” but, on the contrary, of having slandered a prominent individual by comparing him to the Apostate. According to John of Ephesus (Historia ecclesiastica III.9), the faction of the Greens acclaimed Tiberius II’s wife by the name of Helen, that of the Blues by the name of Anastasia: reportedly, this divergence led to a riot.103 Tiberius II had taken the name of Constantine, and therefore the name Helen spoken by the Greens sounded like an allusion to a woman traditionally associated with Constantine: his mother, St Helen. The Blues, however,104 presented the Greens’ acclamation as an allusion to the last pagan

The black legend  11 emperor (and therefore as an insult to Tiberius II), since Helen was also the name of the Apostate’s wife. Through his malicious interpretation, the Blues would thus appear to have accused the Greens of presenting Tiberius II as a new Julian.105 In the 9th century, the same accusation was directed against Constantine the Philosopher, who attacked his deceased teacher Leo the Philosopher and was in turn criticised for having compared the latter to the Apostate, as Constantine himself relates in his verses alluding to Gregory’s polemic against Julian.106 A similar accusation is attested in the 14th century, at the beginning of the hesychasm controversy. In his first text against Gregory Palamas, Barlaam of Calabria denounces his lack of education, yet without mentioning ­Julian.107 In his response, Palamas skilfully distorts his opponent’s words, so as to accuse him – through allusions to passages by Gregory of N ­ azianzus – of having compared him to Julian.108 The same accusation crops up later on in the polemic to stress how unbearable this comparison with the Apostate was,109 despite the fact it is actually nowhere to be found in Barlaam’s words. On the other hand, Palamas was to direct the traditional accusation of imitating Julian (in the Prima confutatio Acindyni 7.17 and the Prima confutatio Gregorae 35) against his later opponents in the hesychast controversy (Gregory Akyndinos and Nikephoros Gregoras). The charge levelled against Akyndinos is followed by the quotation of a passage from Julian’s speech In Helium regem 20, where Palamas sets out to prove that Akyndinos’ opinions are the same as the Apostate’s. This is an important quotation: it shows that the hesychast theologian was familiar with Julian’s literary work, and it is quite accurate (although, significantly, Palamas omits a “by Jove”). The attack against Gregoras is instead followed by a quotation from Cyril of Alexandria's Contra Iulianum II.40. At the same time, a verb (steliteuo) is used that clearly reflects the influence of Gregory of Nazianzus’ invectives. In attempting to discredit his opponent as a new Julian, Palamas therefore alludes to two authors who are largely responsible for the last pagan emperor’s negative reputation in Byzantium.110 The Apostate’s name crops up again in a work by a follower of Palamas, the Patriarch of Constantinople Philoteus Kokkinos, who accuses Gregoras of having dishonoured and offended Christianity as various enemies of the Gospel had done before him, including Celsus and Julian.111 On the other side of the polemic, the anti-hesychast Dexius in turn accused his opponent of being a new Julian, if only implicitly, in an Appellatio addressed to Emperor John Kantakouzenos between 1351 and 1354.112 To refer to his opponent, Dexius employs the very words that Gregory had used (in or. 4.112) to describe Julian.113 The accusation of following in Julian’s footsteps was sometimes directed against rulers who were the enemies of Byzantium. For example, Liutprand of Cremona, who visited Constantinople on a diplomatic mission in 949, reports that Symeon of Bulgaria was called an imitator of Julian for having

12  The black legend quit his monastic habit out of a thirst for power (Antapodosis III.29). This information about Symeon springs from Liutprand’s contact with the Byzantine court and administration; therefore, the comparison between the Bulgar sovereign and Julian must have emerged and spread in Byzantine milieus close to Emperor Constantine Porphyrogenitus114 who in those very years (in De administrando imperio 13) was criticising his predecessor Romanos Lekapenos for having given his granddaughter in marriage to Symeon’s son.115 This comparison between the czar and the Apostate is apparently already attested in an oration from 927 attributed to the ambassador and man of letters Theodore Daphnopates. When negotiating with Symeon in 924, Theodore himself had invited him to drop any further claims, reproaching him for having made instrumental use – concealing his desire for conquest – of a Gospel passage that may have been the focus of the anti-Julian polemics formulated by other Byzantine scholars of that period.116 This obsessive presence of the Apostate as an enemy of Christianity and persecutor in the Byzantines’ minds takes a more concrete form through the mention, in medieval mirabilia, of Julian statues, which at the same time also highlight his imperial status. For example, in Chapter 42 of the Parastaseis syntomoi khronikai (Short Historical Remarks), probably dating from the iconoclastic period,117 the Apostate is described in relation to his persecutions in Constantinople as a new Phalaris, the tyrant of Akragas famously associated with the metal bull he used to torture his enemies: many Christians are said to have been roasted in such a bull.118 The same text also mentions Julian’s destruction of Christian cult objects119 and, after his death, the moving of his statues: most prominently (in Parastaseis 11), a statue of “Caesar Julian” is mentioned among the statues of Christian emperors that Justinian scattered throughout the city during his rebuilding of Hagia Sophia.120 In mirabilia, therefore, as in the hagiographical literature, we still find traces of the Christian ­Julian. The Apostate is repeatedly evoked in relation to the struggle between paganism and Christianity:121 significant episodes include the destruction of the statue of Jesus at Paneas and the death of Bishop Martyrius, burned alive by the Apostate as a sacrifice to the gods (Parastaseis 48).122 The episode of the profanation at Paneas is attested by numerous Byzantine sources, starting from the 5th-century Church historians; but the fanciful description of Bishop Martyrius’ ghastly martyrdom is typical of the P ­ arastaseis: this martyr bearing an eloquent name would appear to have been modelled after the historical Bishop Maris. The main difference between Maris and Martyrius is that the former publicly insulted the Apostate to his face, yet was not charged with lèse-majesté and was not punished for his words:123 this episode is an example of the kind of distortions of the figure of Julian with which the Byzantine tradition is replete.124 In the Vita Petri Hiberi (a monophysite saint who died in 491), which was originally written in Greek by John Rufus but is only known to us via a Syriac translation (BHO 955), the protagonist, on a visit to Alexandria, uses

The black legend  13 his miraculous powers to vanquish a demonic apparition that has become embodied in a statue of Julian and is running towards him.125 This episode too confirms the ambiguity of Julian’s presence in the Byzantine world: an object of hostility right from the start, condemned as an enemy of Christianity, yet at the same time acknowledged as a legitimate emperor, to the point of remaining before everyone’s eyes in official monuments.126

Notes 1 The Homoeans (according to whom the Son is similar to the Father) differed from the Anomoeans (Aetius’ followers), according to whom the Son is dissimilar to the Father. Falling halfway between them, the Homoeans and the Orthodox (referred to as Homousians, as they believe that the Son is of the same substance as the Father) were the so-called Homoiousians, who upheld a compromise position (the Son is similar in essence). 2 According to Brennecke (1988, 88–91), the Apostate’s brief reign was a disaster for the only Homoean Church, which was ultimately defeated by the Orthodox. 3 See Bouffartigue (1998, 82). Fatti (Fatti 2009a, 259–263 and 2009b) goes as far as to argue that Basil was de facto a “collaborator” with the Apostate in 362. 4 Index of Athanasius’ Epistolae festales CPG 2102. This text is only known through a Syriac tradition, which has been translated into French in Martin (1985, 263). 5 See also Sozomen (Historia ecclesiastica IV.20.6 and V.5.10) on these episodes. In the section of his Bibliotheca devoted to the Anomoean historian Philostorgius (cod. 40, in Henry 1959, 24–25), Fotius recalls that Aetius, the founder of the Anomoean Church, was recalled from exile and warmly greeted by the “most impious Julian” (Henry 1959, 24). 6 Delehaye (1902, 545). Cf. Chapter 8. Chapter 59 of the Synodicon Vetus (a history of the councils written around the year 900 – see Duffy/Parker 1979, xiii) mentions the edict, but accuses the Apostate of having recalled the exiled bishops hypocritically (“with the pretext of compassion” – Duffy/Parker 1979, 54). 7 PG 139, 1380–1381. On the Thesaurus orthodoxae fidei (or Panoplia dogmatica), a work about heresies: see Bossina (2009, 71–90). Mention is also made of the Apostate’s support of dissident Christian groups in book 6 (PG 140, 25). 8 In addition to the two invectives, Gregory mentions Julian in various passages in other works, listed in Hauser-Meury (1960, 101). See Célérier (2013, 207–232) on Gregory and Julian. 9 See Fatti (2009b). 10 On Gregory see Simelidis (2009, 57–88) and Macé (2006, 28–34), after the imposing work by Sajdak (1914) (summed up and updated in Sajdak 1929–1930, 268–274). Concerning the use of Gregory by iconoclasts (but also iconodules): Crimi (1992, 208, 212) on the oral reception of his texts through their reading as part of the “officiating of the Byzantine liturgy”) and Crimi (1996, 48). Augustine too draws upon Gregory in De civitate Dei V.21 according to Lugaresi (1993, 17 n. 32). 11 Noret (1983, 259–266). 12 Bernardi (1983, 86). According to Papoutsakis (2007, 64–65), Gregory went so far as to see Julian as the Antichrist. 13 Bernardi (1983, 176). On the reasons for Gregory’s enmity, see Lugaresi (1998, 293–355). Some scholars have even envisaged Gregory’s theological work as a whole as a response to Julian; see Elm (2012, 9).

14  The black legend 14 For example, Nesselrath (2001, 25 n. 33) remarks that many of the negative epithets that Theodoret of Cyrrhus uses for Julian in his Historia ecclesiastica can already be found in Gregory’s invectives. 15 Bernardi (1978, 202). 16 Mossay (1980, 178). 17 Gregory of Nazianzus or. 4.38, 4.57, 4.79, and 4.92 (Bernardi 1983, 138, 162, 202, and 230). John Chrysostom presents Julian as the most impious of all in his oration in honour of saints Juventinus and Maximinus CPG 4349 = BHG 975 (Rambault 2018, 182); he uses almost the same words in the homily De s. hieromartyre Babyla 3 CPG 4347 = BHG 207 (Schatkin 1990, 298), in Contra Judaeos et gentiles CPG 4326 (PG 48, 835), in Adversus Judaeos V CPG 4327 (PG 48, 900), and in Expositio in psalmum CX 4 CPG 4413 (PG 55, 285). A 7th-century text (Erotapokriseis CPG 7482) which in the manuscript tradition is attributed to Gregory of Nazianzus’ brother Caesarius (see Riedinger 1969 and 1989, VIII), follows John Chrysostom in describing the failure of Julian’s attempt to reconstruct the Temple in Jerusalem (Riedinger 1969, 312 and 376–379 and Papadoyannakis 2008, 376 and 379 on Chrysostom and Pseudo-­Caesarius). Particularly noteworthy are the analogies which Pseudo-Caesarius’ text (in Riedinger 1989, 221–222) presents with Adversus Iudaeos CPG 4327 (esp. the passage in PG 48, 901) and the second part (the Julian section) of De s. Babyla contra Iulianum et gentiles CPG 4348 = BHG 208. Chrysostom is also drawn upon in the 15th-century Elogium Mercurii BHG 1277 by Nikephoros Gregoras (in Binon 1937a, 73). 18 Julian is a sophos in wickedness according to Gregory of Nazianzus 4.57 (Bernardi 1983, 162), a sophist of wickedness in the passion of Manuel, Sabel, and Ismael BHG 1024 (Latyšev 1914, 36), and a sophist of wickedness in a menaion (Spanos 2010, 262). In an addition made by a copyist to the text of an oration by John Chrysostom on Juventinus and Maximinus, martyred under Julian, the emperor is described as “sophos in doing evil” (Rambault 2018, 198). 19 Latyšev (1914, 29). 20 Bernardi (1983, 298). 21 The influence of Greg. or. 21.32 (Mossay 1980, 178) is evident towards the end of Chapter 2 of the Metaphrast’s passion of Artemius BHG 172 (PG 115, 1161D). The author expresses the same opinion in his passion of Theodore the Tyro BHG 1763 (AASS Nov. IV, 44; cf. the Metaphrast’s passion of Manuel, Sabel, and Ismael BHG 1024 – Latyšev 1914, 28). 22 Latyšev (1911, 91). On the Imperial Menologion, a liturgical book of the Byzantine Church, see Chapter VIII. 23 Munitiz (1979, 47); all pp. XXVI–XXIX on the dating of the work to the years between 1204 and 1252; on p. XLIII Munitiz identifies the Theognostos who wrote some of the chapters and sections of the work with the hieromonk Theognostos, who is the author of Kephalaia neptikà and probably of some liturgical poems; this Theognostos, or a later compiler, would have put together the Thesaurus that has reached us. 24 Cf. steliteusas (Delehaye 1902, 228) in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion and, in Gregory, stelographian in or. 4.20 and stele in or. 5.42 (Bernardi 1983, 114 and 380). 25 Sozomen V.2.12–14 (Bidez 1960, 192); Theodoret H.E. III.2 (Parmentier 1998, 177); Epitome of the Historia Tripartita 120 (Hansen 1995b, 56); Theophanes A. M. 5831 (De Boor 1883, 36); George the Monk IX.2 (De Boor 1978, 535); Aretas in the Misogoes (Westerink 1968, 208); Theophylact of Ochrid, Passio Martyrum XV Tiberiopoli 7 (Kiapidou 2015, 70); Pseudo-Symeon, followed by Kedrenos 316.4 (Tartaglia 2016, 522); Michael Glykas (Bekker 1836a, 469).

The black legend  15 26 Possibly inspired by this tendency is a reader’s annotation to an epigram by Julian in the Anthologia Palatina IX.365 (published in Stadtmueller 1906, 333). In this annotation we read that Julian found inspiration for his epigram’s subject matter (an organ) as he made his way out of a church. 27 Wright 2006, 145–150 questions the reliability of the idea of Julian’s baptism, and even more his ordination as lector; he believes that later Christian authors derived this information more or less directly from Gregory. 28 Hansen (1995b, 56; Epitome 120). 29 Richard/Munitiz (2006, 130). in Quaestio 16.3 (in Richard/Munitiz 2006, 24), Anastasius mentions Julian’s apostasy before discussing Judas’ betrayal. 30 Mossay (1980, 164). 31 Lampsidis (1996, 129–130). 32 De Boor (1883, 47, 2–4). 33 Dindorf (1870, 207). 34 Sathas (1894, 56). 35 PG 36, 1229–1232 (see Trisoglio 1983, 219–220). In a prayer addressed to Gregory in a manuscript, we read: “may you grant me, if it so pleases you, strength of hand and of mind, O Father, to browse the most noble speeches against Julian, he who is hated of God” (Demoen/Somers 2016, 215). 36 According to Weitzmann (1951, 11–12) “the homilies of Gregory are one of the most frequently illustrated texts of the Middle Byzantine period”; hence in art, too, Julian’s fame is associated with Gregory’s. See Bordier (1883, 83–85), Weitzmann (1942–1943, 99–117), Galavaris (1969, 146–147), Cohen (1978, 222–226), Walter (1978, 247–248, 1999, 180), Der Nersessian (1987, 158), Micheli (1999, 17–22), Brubaker (1999, 227–235, 2007, 59, 65 and 79), and Krause (2004, 112) on Julian’s place in Byzantine miniatures, particularly those in the 9th-cent. cod. Paris. gr. 510, containing works by Gregory. 37 Walz (1834, 90 and 472). See Roilos (2018, 161–162 and 182). 38 Bidez (1960, 222). 39 PG 146, 509. On Julian and Nikephoros, see Chapter X. 40 The life BHG 723 = CPG 7975, attributed to one Gregory the Presbyter of Cappadocia, was written between 543 and 638 (Lequeux 2001, 7–16). Alongside Gregory’s main autobiographical writings, other works of his are used by the hagiographer, including the invectives against Julian in Chapter 8 (Lequeux 2001, 21 and 24). This life was widely read, possibly because it is the only complete life of the saint ever written (Efthymiadis 2006, 242–243). Indeed, it was even included in Symeon the Metaphrast’s menologion without any changes (Høgel 2002, 198; Efthymiadis 2006, 255), despite the fact that – according to Efthymiadis (2006, 254) – the public to which it was initially addressed was the Christian community of Caesarea. One subsequent author is Niketas Paphlagon, whose encomium of Gregory (BHG 725) is criticised by Aretas in ep. 32 (see Efthymiadis 2019, 279). Niketas, who is regarded as a forerunner of Symeon the Metaphrast (see Crimi 2019, 271–285), praises Gregory’s speeches starting precisely from his invectives against Julian (text in Rizzo 1976, 72). 41 Lequeux (2001, 146). According to Lequeux 2001, 230 n. 6, the “offensive littéraire” which the hagiographer attributes to the saint is in all likelihood ­i nspired by the example of the Apollinares, known from Socrates III.16.15 and Sozomen V.18.2–4. According to Zonaras (Epitome historiarum XIII.12), under Julian’s reign Gregory wrote some verses for the instructing of young Christians (Dindorf 1870, 211). In the 14th century, Theodore Metochite followed the Presbyter in portraying Gregory as an opponent of Julian’s religious policies (or. 6.56 in Polemis/Kaltsogianni 2019, 254; see Ševčenko 1996, 229 n. 47; in the Oratio de Constantinopoli, in Polemis/Kaltsogianni 2019, 527, by mentioning

16  The black legend Julian as the only pagan emperor in Constantinople he seems to be alluding to Greg. or. 4.82). In a passage from the Life of the Patriarch of Constantinople Isidore BHG 962 (in Tsamis 1985, 343), written by another Patriarch (Philoteus I, who died in 1379), the Christian literati’s reaction to Julian is instead presented without emphasising Gregory’s role, despite the fact that Philoteus draws upon the polemic against the Apostate’s school legislation in or. 4.100–109 (see Tsamis 1985, 344 n. 69). 42 Tetrastichs 9a and 9b (D’Ambrosi 2008, 154; transl. on p. 155; commentary on pp. 183–184). Concerning Julian’s presence in Prodromos’ verses in honour of Basil the Great, see Acconcia Longo (2012a, 20). 43 Lozza (2000, 94) (other references to Julian by the commentator in Lozza 2000, 200, 209, and 303). See Lozza (2000, 5–10) on Cosmas. The same kind of hostility towards Julian is displayed by a previous commentator (Pseudo-Nonnus) whom Cosmas follows (see Nimmo Smith 2019, 333–355). 44 Rioual (2019a, XXXVI–XXXVII). 45 Rioual (2019a, 62). 46 See Rioual (2019b, 133–144). 47 Bernardi (1983, 318). Gregory varies this concept in or. 42.3, where he introduces Julian as a “Nebuchadnezzar” (Bernardi 1992, 56). 48 De Boor (1978, 547). 49 Schermann (1903, 320). According to Schermann (1903, 303), the original form of the exorcism is lost and the Latin and Greek redactions are related. According to Bilabel (1934, 296), it is impossible to establish a critical edition –­ something Schermann had attempted to do – because this is a text which has been repeatedly rewritten in several different redactions (for example, one which does not feature the 12,660 saints and martyrs sub Iuliano has been published in Bilabel 1934, 236–247). According to Bilabel (1934, 41), the exorcism was developed following the spread of the legend about St Cyprian as a former magician (on which see Wilson 2006, 173–207). According to Halkin (1975, 59 n. 3), there might be a connection between the textual tradition of this exorcism and the prayer attributed to the Calabrian saint Cyprian of Calamizzi, who died around 1210. 50 The “Lord’s servants” are 12,000 for each tribe of Israel in 7: 5–8, and the Heavenly Jerusalem is said to measure 12,000 stadia in 21:16. Six is instead associated with creatures serving the demonic forces, and not merely in Revelation: in addition to the famous number of the beast (666 in 13:18), in Daniel 3:1 Nebuchadnezzar’s golden statue measures 60 cubits in height and six in width. The number 12,660 might therefore be explained as the addition of 660 to 12,000, or as the subtraction of 660 from 13,320 (that is, 666 multiplied by 12). There might also be the influence of the 1260 days connected (in 11.3) to one of the prophecies in Revelation. 51 For example, in the passion of St Cyriacus BHG 465b (Trovato 2018, 70 and 79), in the passion of St Barbarus BHG 219 (Delehaye 1910, 294), and in the notice about St Theodore the Tyro in the Imperial Menologion (Latyšev 1911, 91). Moreover, outside the hagiographical literature, a letter traditionally reputed to have been addressed to Emperor Theophilus by the Orthodox Patriarchs presents Julian – in the context of a description of the devil’s anti-Christian action – as “Satan’s first-born son, an apostate and transgressor like Valens” (Munitiz 1997, 89; on this letter see Signes Codoñer 2014, 367–408; the very same words occur in another letter reputedly sent by Theophilus himself, and known as Pseudo-Damascene’s letter: Munitiz 1997, 155). In the Commentarii in Apocalypsin CPG 7478 by Andreas of Caesarea, written in the early 7th century (see Podskalsky 1972, 86 and Monaci Castagno 1981, 394–426; Monaci

The black legend  17 Castagno 1980, 239–246 on the dating), Julian is already associated with Valens (Schmid 1955, 136). In a later text, from the 10th or 11th century according to its editor (Von Dobschütz 1899, 205**), the definition “devil’s son” is included in a long list of negative epithets (Von Dobschütz 1899, 239**). See Brendel (2018, 621–626) on the association drawn between Julian and Valens. 52 See Lugaresi (1997, 70–71). Paradoxically, it is possible that one of the elements in the legend of St Mercury (the spurious correspondence between the Apostate and St Basil of Caesarea) first emerged within Gregory’s own family milieu (see Fatti 2009a, 251–268). 53 See Chapter VI. 54 The expression “heavenly blow” in particular is used in various hagiographical texts (see n. 5 of the Preface). In his Oratio in translationem manus S. Praecursoris Antiochia Constantinopolin BHG 849–850, Theodore Daphnopates (see Antonopoulou 2011, 9–18 on him and John the Baptist) ends a short account of Julian’s attempted religious restoration along similar lines (Latyšev 1910, 24), possibly influenced by Chrysostom, De s. Babyla 28 CPG 4348 = BHG 208 (Schatkin 1990, 126). Chrysostom refers to an anonymous emperor of St ­Babylas’ day, but in the second part of the oration De s. Babyla the negative protagonist is Julian, and in Chapter 123 we read that he “was struck” (Schatkin 1990, 268). 55 Delehaye (1902, 504). 56 See the Metaphrast (in Latyšev 1914, 39) and or. 5.13 by Gregory (Bernardi 1983, 318). See also Smith (2011, 74–76 and 79–82) on Socrates (III.21.7), according to whom Julian believed him to be the reincarnation of Alexander; in this case the historian is influenced by Gregory’s or. 5.14. 57 The Syriac origin of the epithet parabates used for Julian would appear to be confirmed by its presence in late-antique passions set in Antioch or neighbouring areas: the passion of Theodoret of Antioch BHG 2425, that of Dometius of Persia BHG 560, and the Syriac life of Eusebius of Samosata BHO 294 (cf. Chs. 4 and 5). Julian is not the only parabates in the Byzantine tradition: Adam and Eve are described as protoi parabatai (in hymn 22 by Symeon the New ­Theologian – see Kambylis 1976, 189). According to Rostagni (1920, 4 n. 1), Christians were already using the epithet “Apostate” against Julian during his own lifetime, as the emperor himself would suggest in fragment 57 Masaracchia of Against the Galileans, where he declares himself not to have embraced the spirit of apostasy (Masaracchia 1990, 151). Also interesting is the reception of the term synapostates that Gregory employs in or. 21.32 with reference to Julian as the devil’s “fellow apostate” (Mossay 1980, 176). In one text dating from the 10th or 11th century according to Von Dobschütz (1899, 205**), Julian’s uncle by the same name, the comes Orientis Julian, is defined as his “fellow apostate” (Von Dobschütz 1899, 239**). 58 The only annotation that mentions Julian, although it does not clearly display the influence of Gregory’s polemic, is the first by hand F, which denounces the pagan historian’s bias (Forcina 1987, 36; 94–96 on hand F, datable to the late 13th or early 14th cent.). 59 Bernardi (1983, 192). 60 Forcina (1987, 33; 70–79) on hand B and the hypothesis of its identification with that of Xiphilinus, 75–76 on the two annotations about Julian and their dependence on Gregory. 61 Forcina (1987, 34; 82) on the dating of this hand to the late 11th century, based on palaeographic criteria. 62 Gregory thus finds a place here in the debate on the figure of Julian (see Lugaresi 1997, 19; in n. 21 Lugaresi lists numerous passages from the second invective

18  The black legend in which the admirers of the despised deceased are contemptuously and obsessively denounced). In particular, a passage from or. 4.79 (in Bernardi 1983, 202) is imitated by the annotator of Zosimus. 63 On this portrayal, see Bouffartigue (1989, 529–539) and Somville (2003, 161–166). 64 Lequeux (2001, 146 and 148). 65 See Psellus (Aerts 1990, 38) and or. 5.23 by Gregory (Bernardi 1983, 338). On Julian and Psellus, see Chapter IX. 66 The text by George the Monk may be found in De Boor (1978, 542–543). In a footnote, De Boor observes that the passage in question is also quoted in what was regarded as Quaestio 65 by Anastasius Sinaita (PG 89, 680C). However, it is considered spurious in the recent edition of Anastasius’ Quaestiones et responsiones CPG 7746. It rather belongs to the “Collection of 88 Questions” which “probably began (in the ninth century) as a Collection of 23 questions which were a reworking of some of the original Questions” (Richard/Munitiz 2006, XXI). 67 George the Monk in De Boor (1978, 545–546; Glica in Bekker 1836a, 472); Theognostus in Thesaurus X.4 in Munitiz (1979, 49). 68 Glykas (see Chapter X) disproves the legend of St Mercury’s killing of Julian by quoting a passage from another oration by Gregory (or. 43.30). 69 On Gregory’s influence on Chrysoberges’ ethopoeia: Asmus (1906, 128–135), Widmann (1935–1936, 275–278) and Kaldellis (2007, 161). 70 For example, one redaction of Aemilian’s passion (BHG 33b) explicitly states (in conflict with the other redactions of the same passion) that Julian feigned goodness and cunningly let governor Capitolinus play the persecutor’s role (Halkin 1972, 30–31). Even the author of the Commentarii in Apocalypsin CPG 7478, Andreas of Caesarea, active in the first quarter of the 7th century (Monaci Castagno 1980, 239–246 on the dating of the work; Monaci Castagno 1981, 394– 426 on its features compared to the previous commentary by Epiphanius), is aware of the difference between Julian’s astute policy and Diocletian’s persecution (Schmid 1955, 184 = PG 106, 377). 71 See Rochow 1991b, 133–156 on the instrumental use of the charge of paganism in Byzantium. 72 Munitiz (1997, 115). In another redaction of the same text (on this iconodule work see also Gauer 1994, LIII–LXXXIV), Julian is presented as an iconoclast who uses the Jews to carry out sacrilegious acts which miraculously fail, possibly through the influence of the tradition about the miracle that prevented the reconstruction of the Temple in Jerusalem (Munitiz 1997, 37). The same legend is also found in a letter addressed by Pseudo-Damascene to Theophilus (Munitiz 1997, 151). According to Walter (in Munitiz 1997, lv), the source of this anecdote might be a work attributed to Andrew of Crete (on which see Auzépy 1995, 1–12), who died in 726 (although Walter does not rule out the opposite hypothesis). The work in question is known from a fragment De sanctarum imaginum veneratione (CPG 8193=BHG 1125) which describes how Julian despatched some Jews to paint an icon of the Virgin Mary (Von Dobschütz 1899, 186*). In another text recounting the same legend, the Jews disappear (Von Dobschütz 1899, 220**; according to Von Dobschütz 1899, 205** the collection preserving this text probably dates from the 11th or 12th century). See also Pentcheva (2016, 271). 73 Sources in Lilie (1999, 126). Magdalino (1999, 140–145) on Constantine V’s propaganda, which newly employed the myth of Constantine I. 74 Auzépy (1997, 173 = PG 100, 1181) (in the previous Chapter 64, in Auzépy 1997, 166, the Constantinople of Constantine V is compared to that of “the atheists Julian and Valens”). These two passages are rewritten without significant

The black legend  19 changes in the Vita Stephani iunioris BHG 1667 of Symeon the Metaphrast (in Iadevaia 1984, 164 and 169). 75 De Boor (1978, 752) (Theophilus too was compared to Julian by George, influenced by Gregory: De Boor 1978, 799). 76 Leo is the “great dragon” (Fatouros 1992, 583). At the very beginning of his first invective (or. 4.1), Gregory calls Julian “the dragon” (Bernardi 1983, 86; a note to the Italian translation by Lugaresi 1993, 57 lists the biblical passages to which Gregory alludes and to which Theodore the Studite might also be ­alluding – rather than to Gregory). See Cholij (2007, 59–60) on the context of ep. 417. Leo V is described as the “new parabates” in a notice of the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion (Delehaye 1902, 733), an obvious allusion to the Apostate (see Chapter VIII). 77 Failler (1999, 27). See Tinnefeld (2012, 143–166) on the Arsenite schism and Efthymiadis (2011c, 131–133) on Michael VIII as the new Julian. 78 Carmen de colybis BHG 1769 (AASS Nov. IV, 82), on which see Efthymiadis (2011c, 123–136). 79 AASS Nov. IV, 82. On the Byzantines’ negative opinion (and prejudices) about Westerners, see Hunger (1987, 37–46), in addition to the texts mentioned by Efthymiadis (2011c, 129 n. 19). On the Carmen see also Chapter VI. 80 Severus, the monophysite Patriarch of Antioch between 512 and 518, would also appear to have been polemically compared to Julian (see Marasco 2013, 280–281). 81 Dennis (1994a, 58). See Gregory in or. 4.21 (Bernardi 1983, 80). 82 Dennis (1994a, 80). See Chapter IX on Psellos and Julian. 83 Gouillard (1987, 77). On Euthymius of Sardis see Efthymiadis (2011a, 104). 84 Allen/Neil (1999, 211). See Allen/Neil (1999, XXII–XXIII) on this work. 85 See Trovato (2012, 278, n. 90). 86 See Westerink (1968, 208), Mercati (1970, 286–292), Magdalino (1997, 151–152), and Flusin (2017, 321–322) concerning Aretas’ polemic against Choirosphaktes, which was possibly also caused by some not very Orthodox statements in the latter’s poem Chiliostichos Theologia (see Magdalino 1997, 157 and Magdalino 2006, 176). By contrast, according to Strano (2008, 32), Vassis (2002, 10), and Kolias (1939, 56 and 68), Aretas’ accusations were instrumental, whereas according to Kazhdan (2006, 82) they stem from Photius’ rediscovery of the classics. Aretas himself (around the year 900 and then in 907) was charged with atheism (see Jenkins/Laourdas 1956, 345 and 349–351; on p. 349 they express scepticism about these allegations). 87 Westerink (1968, 212). 88 Westerink (1968, 180). 89 Flusin (1992, 131–134) on Strategius and his work. 90 A Latin translation of the Georgian text in Garitte (1960, 7); we also have various recensions of an Arabic translation (see the passages mentioning Julian, from a Latin translation of the Arabic text, in Garitte 1973, 5 and 43 and Garitte 1974, 76 and 105). According to Flusin 1992, 144 “on voit quelle image certains moines de Palestine ont pu se faire du pouvoir impérial et de ses représentants au début du VIIe siècle”. By contrast, according to Speck (1997, 53) this is an edifying tale that was added to Strategius’ work at a later stage (on p. 56 Speck suggests “die Zeit der byzantinischen Renaissance” as the period in which this addition was made). 91 This charge occurs in the Vita Petri Iberi CPG 7505 by John Rufus (a supporter of Monophysitism), which is only known in a Syriac translation (BHO 955), and in another text by the same author (De commemoratione quomodo beatus Theodosius […] ad dominum migravit CPG 7506 = BHO 1178), which has also

20  The black legend reached us in a Syriac translation (Horn/Phenix 2008, 64 e 282). The Syriac version of John Rufus’ Vita Petri Hiberi dates from the 6th century, according to Flusin (1996, 43). See Steppa (2005, 61–70) for a discussion of the Vita Petri Hiberi within the context of a study on John Rufus as a representative of anti-­ Chalcedonian Christianity. 92 See Van Esbroeck (1999a, 140–141) on the connection between late 5th-century theological disputes and the debate between Julian and Gregory in the Georgian passion of Gregory Thaumaturgus. 93 Van Esbroeck (1999a, 136). 94 See Trovato (2020, 66–71) on John of Thessaloniki, Julian, and the censorship attested by cod. Vind. Hist. gr. 45 (olim 14). 95 Mansi 1766, 1065CD and (in another redaction, “perhaps the original one” according to Wallach 1977, 32) Mansi 1767, 72 DE – 73A. Schermann 1904, 76 mentions a quote from this apocryphal letter in his list of florilegia from the iconoclast period. According to Alexakis 1996, 148 it is possible that the Greek fragment of this pseudo-Basilian letter was already circulating in Rome before 731. According to Crimi (1986, 80–82) an apocryphal letter on Christians’ veneration of images was presented at the 787 Council of Nicaea precisely on account of the equation of Constantine V with Julian in iconodule polemics. 96 Thus Lilie (1996, 373). Lilie (1996, 348) writes: “Der implizite Vergleich Konstantin VI. mit Julian Apostata zeigt allerdings die Propagandatendenz der Kedrenosvorlage”. 97 Mansi (1766, 1058A, 1154D) and (1767, 416E and 455C). 98 Spadaro (1980, 23). An explicit attack on Comnenus was instead delivered by Norman propaganda: the emperor was harshly criticised and described as a haereticus vesanus, Iulianus apostata, alter Iudas (AASS Nov. III, 164) in Scriptum Galeranni episcopi de miraculo Boimundi BHL 4874. 99 Gautier (1980, 315), Spadaro (1980, 33). 100 Spadaro (1980, 11) (English translation from the Italian). See Creazzo (2007, 159–174) concerning the reliability of some of the opinions on the history of hostility towards eunuchs in this original text; on this work more generally, see instead Mullett (2002, 177–198), Tougher (2008, 98–99 and 108–109), and Messis (2012, 41–85). Another implicit comparison between Julian and Justinian I is to be found, according to Wood 2010, 149–150, in the so-called first Syriac novel (on which see Section III.20.4) and, according to Papoutsakis (2007, 73), in Romanos the Melodist. 101 See Kazhdan (1984, 244 n. 50), who, however cautiously, concludes: “unfortunately we can only speculate”. On Chrysoberges, see Browning (1962, 184–186) (among other works connected to his teaching at the patriarchal school in Constantinople, we find the progymnasmata) and Kazhdan (1984, 224–236 and 242– 255). According to Hunger (1969–1970, 21) Chrysoberges’ ethopoeia of Julian, published in Widmann (1935–1936, 22–23), is quite unusual as “Christian or contemporary topics were exceptions” for this literary genre. 102 De Lagarde (1882, 116). See Kaldellis (2007, 144 and 202). Agapitos (1998, 190) does not attempt to identify the contemporary figure(s) constituting the orator’s polemical target(s). According to Anastasi (1988, 58) Mauropous is opposing Christian fundamentalism too, in addition to the “Atticists” who lie behind the mask of Julian. This cryptic polemic would appear to have continued even after the fall of Byzantium. In the paintings found in Orthodox churches, the various “villains” killed by military saints (Julian, Diocletian, or the Bulgar ruler Kalojan, who died in 1207 and was known as “the Romanslayer”) act – through the use of a kind of coded language – as stand-ins for the Turkish sultan, the oppressor of Orthodoxy (see Walter 2003, 284). Likewise, in many passages of the so-called Apocalypse of Pseudo-Methodius (transl. in Reinink 1993, 32–33 and 55), which portrays the reactions of the Christian communities that came

The black legend  21

103 104 1 05 106

1 07 108

109 1 10 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118

119 120

to be subjected to Muslim domination in the 7th century, the implicit parallel between Julian and the Islamic caliphs is easy to grasp (see Reinink 1992a, 149–187, 1992b, 75–86, 1993, XXIV–XXV and XXXV–XXXVI, 2001, 236–237, and Kraft 2012, 218). In another apocalyptic work (Andreas Salos’ Apocalypse), an apostate emperor is clearly presented as a new Julian (Rydén 1974, 204–205; commentary on pp. 243–245). See also Alexander (1985, 124). Latin transl. from the Syriac in Brooks (1936, 99): tumultus magnus factus est et timor. Jarry (1968, 414–415). According to Cameron (1976, 146), who does not mention Jarry’s hypothesis, the dispute between the two factions only revolved around the honour of rechristening the new Augusta. Spadaro (1971, 200) (with an allusion to Gregory or. 5.42 in Bernardi 1983, 380). Another attack levelled against Leo by Constantine (in Spadaro 1971, 199) also includes an allusion to the opening of Gregory’s first invective (Bernardi 1983, 86). According to Anastasi (1963, 84–89), Constantine the Philosopher, the author of the verses against Leo the Philosopher, is to be identified with Constantine the Sicilian, whereas according to Spadaro (1971, 179–192) he is more likely to be Constantine-Cyril, better known as the Apostle to the Slavs. Schirò (1954a, 243). Bobrinski (1962, 494). Palamas quotes the words by which Gregory of Nazianzus (in or. 43.11, the funeral oration for Basil the Great) defends secular culture and describes those who oppose its use a priori as uncouth and uneducated (Bernardi 1992, 138); however, he especially alludes to a passage from Gregory’s first invective against the Apostate (or. 4.101), condemning the emperor’s law on schools (Bernardi 1983, 248). Bobrinski (1962, 497). Perrella (2005, 28 and 970). Kaimakes (1983, 485); another polemical juxtaposition between Gregoras and Julian may be found on pp. 156–157. On Kokkinos’ culture: Bianconi (2008, 366–375). On Kokkinos and Palamas: Talbot (2010, 236–247). Probably between the late months of 1351 and 1352, after the synod of 1351 had marked the triumph of hesychasm (see Polemis 2003, XXX–XXXI, and LX– LXIX on Dexius’ life and personality). Polemis (2003, 86–87). Dexius also alludes to another passage from Gregory’s invectives (or. 5.41). An anonymous Byzantine author prior to the 9th century also sets Julian in contrast to Peter (see Chapter II). According to Constantine, Romanos had tarnished the Empire’s dignity by allowing this marriage out of uncouthness and ignorance (Moravcsik 1967, 72). See Trovato (2020, 71–78) on Liutprand, Symeon, and Julian. See Trovato (2020, 75–83). See Dagron (1984, 38), Cameron/Herrin (1984, 25–26), Berger (1988, 46), Kazhdan (1999, 308–309), and Anderson (2011, 5). Preger (1989, 48–49). See Berger (2021, 41–42) on this tradition. According to Kazhdan (1999, 311) this piece of information – taken up in Patria II.53 (Preger 1989, 180) – is one of the many parodies that, in his view, are strewn throughout this work. According to Speck (1988a, 5) Chapter 42 has reached us in an incomplete form. Julian cast the Tykhe of Constantinople into a well because it bore a cross (Parastaseis 38); the same piece of information is reported in Patria II.42 (Preger 1989, 42 and 173; see Berger 2021, 23–24). Preger (1989, 26 and 202) (part of Chapter 11, including the mention of “Caesar Julius”, is taken up in the subsequent collection of Patria II 96). In Parastaseis 44a mention is made of the statues of Constantine, Julian, Julian’s wife, and

22  The black legend

121

1 22 123 124

125

126

other figures in the Forum Tauri; this information is taken up in Patria II 28 with some changes (Preger 1989, 51 and 165). The measures which, according to Parastaseis 46, Theodius took against coins and statues of Julian would appear to have been ineffective, according to other chapters from the same work that mention them (11 and 44a). In Parastaseis 46 we read of Theodosius’ measures against coins and statues of the Apostate; in Parastaseis 47 Julian crafts idols that look like imperial statues, thereby misleading many Christians (Preger 1989, 53). Parastaseis 68 mentions statues of emperors in the Augusteum, including one of Julian. Parastaseis 70 (in Preger 1989, 66) mentions statues of the Apostate and his wife, who is said to have been divorced by him on account of her Christian faith; this chapter is partly taken up in Patria II 48 (Preger 1989, 177), without mentioning Julian. Parastaseis 48 (Preger 1989, 53–54). On Maris, see Brennecke (1988, 142–143). The tradition about Martyrius may also echo the events of saints Martyrius and Marcianus, who were martyred under Julian’s predecessors because of their opposition to Arianism (see Franchi de’ Cavalieri 1946, 132–175). According to Cameron/Herrin (1984, 25) Julian “features throughout the work [Parastaseis] as a persecutor of Christians and an iconoclast”, while according to Rosen (2006, 400–401) the tradition about Martyrius represents the transposition into the past of the tradition about the death of Stephan the Younger, who was reputedly lynched in 767 on account of his opposition to Constantine V’s religious policy. Horn/Phenix (2008, 151). With regard to this passage, Perrone (1988, 89) notes that the presence of paganism at the end of the ancient world seemed like “a ghost: an insidious danger, by this time remote – symbolically evoked in the demonic specter which emanates from the statue of Julian”. Although the so-called Column of Julian in Ankara dates from the beginning of the 6th century (see Taddei 2019, 1039–1052), as witnessed by the Vita Petri Hiberi, there must have been some monuments and inscriptions in honour of Julian strewn across the Empire (concerning inscriptions, see Conti 2004). Moreover, for centuries one of the ports of Constantinople bore his name (see Heher 2016, 51–66).

II A sulphurous and versatile emperor

II.1  An ambiguous presence The New History (CHAP 501) by Zosimus, a pagan and pro-Julian historian, has survived through a single codex (Vat. Gr. 156). Although it is missing some leaves with polemical passages against Christianity, it was copied by many different hands between the 10th and the 12th century,1 which is to say over the course of several generations: evidence of an almost suspicious interest and of a desire not to erase the memory of an enemy who could only be condemned. Furthermore, the aforementioned annotations by this codex’s various readers reveal a combination of “morbid curiosity and revulsion”2 towards a text from which they aim to distance themselves, but whose importance they at the same time stress, actually drawing attention to it through their wordy and ostentatious polemics. This ambiguity is also evident in the entry in the Souda lexicon, which devotes plenty of room to a list of Julian’s writings but even more to a description of his deeds as an emperor, by drawing upon the pagan historian Eunapius via the Excerpta Constantiniana. However, the lexicon first of all defines him as follows: “Julian, the Parabates (Transgressor) and Apostate, Emperor of the Romans, nephew of Emperor Constantine the Great”.3 Parabates and apostate are the best-known disparaging epithets reserved for him: hence, even though Christian integralism was not the only presence within Byzantine culture, a positive assessment of the emperor and writer could not be followed by a defence of his religious choices. Even an author such as John Mauropous – known for epigram 43 de Lagarde, in which he begs God for Plato’s and Plutarch’s salvation – e­ xpresses an unambiguous condemnation of Julian’s anti-Christian cultural policies in his speech on the establishment of the feast of the Three Hierarchs (cf. Chapter 1). While a 10th-century anthology (Excerpta de Sententiis) preserves numerous Eunapius fragments praising Julian,4 the same historian is censured, on account of his hostility to Constantine I, by a compiler of the Souda lexicon.5 And while a letter addressed to Demetrios Drimos by Michael Choniates makes an allusion to an ideologically very demanding passage of the Contra Galilaeos preserved in Cyril’s Contra Iulianum, we

DOI: 10.4324/9781003179818-2

24  A sulphurous and versatile emperor take this to reflect a paganising tendency.6 Instead, in the Commentariolus Byzantinus, an early-medieval grammatical text, the condemnation is even extended to the way in which one ought to speak of the Apostate or read his works.7 The grammarian contrasts an example concerning St Peter, who scorned material goods and chose Christ, to one concerning Julian, who repudiated Christ and therefore is most suitably discussed in a harsh and bitter style.8 The continuity of the Roman State in any case also required an assessment, in the Byzantine world, of Julian in his role as emperor alongside that as apostate, and this is evident in authors from different periods, such as John Lydus and Agathias in the 6th century, Constantine Porphyrogenitus in the 10th, and Kekaumenos in the 11th. Lydus and Agathias, who were writing at a time in which there were still some pagan minorities but the black legend of the Apostate was already spreading, saw Julian only as an emperor,9 so much so that Lydus has been regarded as one of the representatives of the cautious opposition to Justinian’s religious absolutism.10 Their strictly political evaluation, devoid of religious references, exemplifies an attitude that, while certainly a minority position compared to the predominant attitude of condemnation, should not be underestimated in an overall analysis of the Byzantines’ imaginary Julian. This attitude, also connected to a form of respect towards imperial authority, emerges for the first time in the transcription of an entreaty that Homoean Christians submitted to Emperor Jovian against the Orthodox Athanasius (Petitiones Arianorum CPG 2137). Julian is presented as a legitimate emperor and as Jovian’s predecessor, and hence honoured with words (“most dear to God, philosopher, and blessed”)11 that at first sight seem surprising, since Julian had specifically acted against the Homoean Church supported by Constantius II. In describing Jovian’s predecessor as “most dear to God, philosopher, and blessed”, the Homoeans were actually defending a measure from which they had benefited: the expulsion from Alexandria of Athanasius, who had already been exiled by Constantius II as an anti-Homoean.12 Even if this were an Orthodox forgery,13 it would not be an implausible one. Julian was more than a legitimate sovereign: after his death he was deified.14 At least on official occasions, the Arians could not show disrespect towards the legitimate predecessor of the emperor they were addressing and employed the terminology in use at the time, as reflected for instance in a passage from Athanasius’ Apologia contra Arianos (CPG 2123).15 Julian himself feigned respect towards his deceased cousin, for example in Misopogon 28 and in ep. 33, 59, 60, and 110 Bidez. In particular, in ep. 60 Bidez, addressed to the citizens of Alexandria, he calls Constantius II “most blessed”,16 using the very adjective we find in the Petitiones Arianorum.17 Another example of respect towards legitimate authority is provided by the 11th-century author, Kekaumenos. In an original speculum principis, the emperor is advised to follow the example of his predecessors who ruled the empire not by staying in Constantinople, but by travelling, so as to ensure

A sulphurous and versatile emperor  25 the peace and prosperity of the State, which – the author stresses – was far more extensive at the time. Kekaumenos thus presents Constantine I, Constantius II, Julian, Jovian, and Theodosius as positive models.18 Therefore, he not only makes a positive assessment of Julian’s reign (albeit in relation to a limited sphere), but places him – along with the Arian Constantius II – on the same level as the Orthodox Constantine, Jovian, and Theodosius. An even more interesting example is provided by Georgios Scholarius, who became the first Patriarch of Constantinople (under the name Gennadius II) after the Turkish conquest. Addressing the last emperor in a letter in 1449, he mentioned Julian and Themistius at the end of a list of positive examples of sovereigns (starting with Alexander the Great) who held philosophers in high repute.19 As already noted, however, this non-hostile – and sometimes positive – verdict on the reign of Julian as one of the princes reflecting the continuity of the Roman state and its institutions is not the most widespread view. Gennadius II himself, a few years later, justified the burning of the just-deceased Plethon’s philosophical treatise by accusing him of being like Julian and other apostates.20 A damning verdict, albeit a very succinct one, is also expressed in a work written by another emperor: a military treatise composed by Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus after 952. In a list of ancient emperors that partly coincides with Kekaumenos’ (Constantine, Constantius II, Julian, and Theodosius), the first ruler is showered with praise, while his nephew is referred to as “the most impious Julian”.21 Still, Porphyrogenitus is rather restrained in his condemnation of the Apostate, as he is in the panegyric (BHG 728) he wrote (or commissioned) for the translation of Gregory of Nazianzus’ relic into the Church of the Holy Apostles in Constantinople.22 The author’s sources, namely Gregory himself and the Vita Gregorii (CPG 7975=BHG 723), are far more critical of Julian. For example, Julian and Gregory’s sojourn in Athens is evoked by the latter in a well-known passage from his second invective against Julian, who is pitilessly described and mocked as a madman (or. 5.23). Whereas Gregory the Presbyter draws upon this passage at the end of Chapter 8 of his work, Porphyrogenitus omits it: in relation to Gregory of Nazianzus’ studies in Athens, he avoids mentioning the future emperor’s contemporary presence in the city. This is an intentional omission, as is proven by the fact that the short biography of Gregory of Nazianzus in Chapters 14–16 of the panegyric is based both on Gregory’s works and on the life CPG 7975=BHG 723. Porphyrogenitus could therefore have mentioned Julian, but chose not to do so, whereas he does not gloss over the contrast between Gregory of Nazianzus and Maximus the Cynic. In Chapter 16 he denounces the latter’s “revolt” (epanastasin) against his spiritual “father,” Gregory.23 Significantly, the term used is the same as that which Gregory used to describe Julian’s rebellion against Constantius II in the first invective (or. 4.21).24 It is therefore evident that the omission in Porphyrogenitus’ text is intentional and possibly motivated by the paradoxical fact that with the translation of Gregory of Nazianzus’ relics into the Church of

26  A sulphurous and versatile emperor the Holy Apostles, the saint and the last pagan emperor were about to become neighbours in their mortal remains, just as they had been neighbours in their studies in Athens. Indeed, after its burial in Tarsus in Cilicia in 363, Julian’s body had been brought back to Constantinople, to the imperial mausoleum in the Church of the Holy Apostles.25 The presence of Julian’s tomb in a Christian mausoleum materially illustrates the merging, in Byzantine civilisation, of the Roman State tradition and the Christian religious one. As a legitimate Roman emperor, the Apostate had the right to a regular burial in the imperial mausoleum. He was spared the fate of the iconoclast emperor Constantine V Copronymus, whose remains were removed from the Church of the Holy Apostles after the final vanquishing of iconoclasm.26 However, as a renegade, Julian was never granted everlasting, peaceful rest in the medieval imagination. Indeed, on the one hand the Byzantine lists of imperial sepulchres record the presence of the Apostate’s remains; but on the other, the same lists apply insulting epithets to them,27 while Constantinopolitan traditions reported by a foreigner (who visited the imperial city between 1136 and 1143) envisaged the Apostate’s tomb as hellishly engulfed in tar and miasmas.28 Even after the fall of Constantinople, this scene survived in people’s fancy. When describing the city’s monuments and relics, with regard to the Church of the Holy Apostles the Greek exile Constantine Lascaris mentions Constantine I’s tomb, adding that all emperors had been buried there; but the first emperor explicitly listed after Constantine is ­Julian: Lascaris recalls the Apostate’s sepulchre, but also the terrible sizzling liquid that flows out of it, as a marker of his everlasting infamy.29

II.2  Julian the writer In more specific spheres, Julian was emulated and studied as a Greek literary author, but this in itself does not imply an appreciation of his ideas.30 In most cases, interest in Julian’s literary output was limited to its style, not its content.31 In his Historia ecclesiastica, Sozomen stresses Julian’s natural talents32 while also praising the literary qualities of the Misopogon, a work of Julian’s that is described as “very fine and highly refined”.33 Even Cyril of Alexandria, in his refutation of Contra Galilaeos, voices his appreciation of its style and repeatedly praises Julian’s talent, expressing regret at the emperor’s choice to abandon Christianity and put his unquestionable writing skills to the service of paganism.34 However, Contra Galilaeos was bound to draw attention because of its content and, indeed, it is one of the few works by the Apostate which has not reached us. Writing as a hagiographer, in the Passio XV Martyrum Tiberiopoli, Theophylact of Ohrid repeats some recurrent motifs in so-called epic passions and thus explicitly condemns Julian as an impious and cruel persecutor (cf. Chapter 10); writing as a theologian, in his commentary on the Gospel of Mark, he calls the Apostate “accursed”, before refuting a passage from Contra Galilaeos.35 But when writing as the panegyrist of Emperor

A sulphurous and versatile emperor  27 36

Alexios Komnenos, Theophylact consciously and instrumentally reuses – ­alongside passages by other authors – a passage from Julian the writer.37 Indeed, he even seems to be familiar with a work now lost, Mechanica, which he mentions in ep. 127 Gautier, addressed to protasecretis Gregory Kamateros in 1094.38 Much like Theophylact of Ohrid, in 1442 George of Trebizond, who like other Byzantine erudites of his day had emigrated to Italy, presented Julian as an enemy of Christianity in a letter to Bessarion, who had urged him to translate Basil the Great into Latin.39 Instead, in a polemical work on the Latin translation of a work by Aristotle (Adversus Theodorum Gazam, written in 1456), which is to say in a different context, designed chiefly to highlight literary problems, George could afford to draw upon and praise Julian’s literary output.40 This instrumental use of Julian as a Greek literary author emerges even more prominently when it is compared to the attack launched, at the end of the same work, against Georgius Gemistus Pletho and his plan to restore paganism.41 George’s polemic was implicitly also directed against Bessarion and his circle, so much so that in 1458 he denounced Pletho’s neopaganism and, implicitly, perhaps also Bessarion himself as the Platonists’ patron.42 Generally speaking, a difference can be detected between two aspects of Julian the writer: the Julian of Contra Galilaeos falls within the category of Julian as an enemy of Christianity, and is therefore condemned, whereas the Julian of other works falls within the category of Julian as a Greek literary author, and is thus made an object of emulation and study. Copyists’ censorship and invectives43 did not prevent the transmission of most of his works, and the opinion voiced by a copyist of the oration in Helium regem is highly significant in this respect: “The impious Julian’s speech on King Helios, on the one hand filled with impieties and pagan insolence, on the other with rhetorical and artistic skill”.44 The Souda lexicon devotes extensive space to Julian as a writer, and it is interesting to note the order in which the three aspects of his personality are presented. As we have seen, Julian is presented first of all as a parabates and apostate, then as an emperor, and finally as a writer, whose works are listed. Significantly, this list does not include the treatise Contra Galilaeos, which is therefore chiefly taken into account when dealing with Julian not as a writer, but as an enemy of Christians. The most frequently discussed aspects in the entry are the less negative ones of Julian as an emperor and as a writer, to the extent that the lexicon quotes several Eunapius fragments, derived from the Excerpta Constantiniana.45 It is nonetheless significant that the entry opens with the typical Byzantine epithets parabates and apostates, and that before introducing fragment 28.6 Blockley of Eunapius, the compiler describes Julian as a “parabates and atheist”.46 Therefore, Rosen’s claim that the Souda lexicon foreshadows a “Julian-Renaissance” seems unjustified,47 not least considering the fact that three entries (those on Amachius, Cyril of Heliopolis, and Mark of Arethusa) mention martyrs or confessors sub

28  A sulphurous and versatile emperor Iuliano, recounting episodes of torture and cannibalism.48 It is nevertheless true that some fragments of Julian’s works are only known to us through the Souda,49 and that the entries presenting him as an enemy of Christianity are less numerous than those featuring him as a Roman emperor (on the basis of several Eunapius fragments)50 and especially as a Greek literary author. In this respect, some of the choices made by the compilers of the Souda lexicon seem rather curious,51 and this is the case for instance with the letters quoted. What emerges most prominently is the definition of paideia,52 which coincides with that provided by Julian at the beginning of ep. 61c Bidez, the letter justifying the expulsion of Christian teachers from schools. What is also noteworthy is the fact that, under the entry epistles,53 ep. 106 Bidez to Porphyry is quoted in full (in which Julian asks for the “Galilaeans’” books belonging to deceased Arian bishop George), as are two passages from ep. 89 Bidez to the high priest Theodore – the so-called pagan encyclical.54 Significantly, while quoting different passages from Julian’s works and letters,55 the lexicon devotes special attention to one oration in particular, Contra Heracleum, so much so that, in addition to the numerous quotes already detected by Adler, Theodoridis has recently identified another from the same oration.56 This quote is the only one from the second part of Contra Heracleum, featuring the myth in which Julian weaves the tale of his investiture as supreme leader by the will of the gods after the self-­destruction of Constantine’s family, and lays out his programme by criticising his predecessors for having abandoned the traditional religion. It thus seems as though the compiler overlooked an ideologically significant section of Contra Heracleum on purpose, as is confirmed by the quotation of another passage from the same work, which is especially interesting on account of the use later made of it by Michael Psellos (on which see Chapter IX). Here Julian urges his readers to overcome the limits imposed by the body (in this regard, the Apostate quotes fragment 96 Diels-Kranz of Heraclitus).57 This quote from Contra Heracleum is used in the Souda for the entry (eta 471) on Heraclitus as an anthroponym58 (whereas the famous philosopher Heraclitus is the focus of entry eta 472). Therefore, it is clear that the compilers of this lexicon approach Julian’s work as a useful source of examples, definitions, and detailed lexical information. Just after this quote, Julian begins the second part of Contra Heracleum with his autobiographical myth, from which the compilers – significantly – do not draw any further passages, with one exception. Unlike Contra Heracleum, the Misopogon is hardly quoted in the Souda lexicon: indeed, it is featured even less than the Consolatio written for Salutius’ departure.59 Later authors, too, show some interest in Julian the writer – who is generally clearly distinguished from Julian, the enemy of Christianity – as in the case of Tzetzes and Eusthatius of Thessalonica in the 12th century, and of Andreas Lopadiotes in the Palaiologan era. In Tzetze’s Historiae, the Apostate’s name occurs repeatedly, sometimes through the use of the adjective “Julianean”, in relation to Himerius, who is

A sulphurous and versatile emperor  29 60

thus described in Hist. VI.46.322, or the emperor’s logoi in Hist. I.15.360,61 which is actually an allusion to ep. 186 Bidez. Tzetzes’ quotes contain some inaccuracies, such as the attribution to Julian of other authors’ verses (e.g. Hist. VI.94.959–960).62 Tzetzes alludes to another letter from Julian’s corpus (82 Bidez) in Hist. XIII.493.535–544, where he also refers to Gregory of Nazianzus’ first invective.63 All in all, however, Tzetzes’ Julian is more a Greek literary author than an enemy of the faith, and while the compilers of the Souda lexicon preferred to quote Contra Heracleum, Tzetzes appears more interested in the Apostate’s letters and verses. A similar attitude is displayed by Eusthatius of Thessalonica, who in his commentaries on Homer repeatedly quotes Julian as a writer. He too, in a manner consistent with his interpretation of the pagan myths present in the Homeric poems,64 seems to privilege the following works by Julian: the speech on King Helios,65 but also Caesares 66 and ep. 34 Bidez.67 Generally speaking, Eusthatius employs the epithet parabates, yet without any invectives, as though this epithet had lost its polemical overtones.68 Only in one case does he express a negative opinion,69 which however occurs in a part of his commentary that was added at a subsequent stage. Unlike other Byzantine authors, who often associate the mention of Julian with invectives or even insults, Eusthatius in this case is dealing with the Greek literary author, not the enemy of Christianity. In another work by Eusthatius, his Commentarii on the writing of Dionysius Periegetes, Julian is quoted in relation to the Tigris river, and in this case not merely as a Greek literary author,70 but also as the emperor to whom a misleading oracle was given.71 The sources of Eusthatius’ Commentarii are numerous and varied,72 and in this specific case what we have is a tradition first found in Theodoret of Cyrrhus (Historia ecclesiastica III.21.2)73 and later in various Byzantine authors.74 Eusthatius, however, does not adopt these writers’ hostile tone towards the Apostate: as in his commentary on Homer, he maintains a neutral attitude prevalently marked by erudite interests. In other words, more than any of the other authors considered so far, Eusthatius displays the kind of approach to Julian’s works typical of a cultured person devoted to Classical studies.75 Even more interesting are Andreas Lopadiotes’ choices.76 In the early 14th century he composed the Lexicon Vindobonense, which includes little original material compared to previous lexica.77 What is noteworthy, however, is his choice to provide several quotes from Himerius and Julian, authors who were read and catalogued precisely within Lopadiotes’ circle.78 More specifically, he quotes some passages from Julian’s letters and the Misopogon, which appears to be connected to a rather unique work by Lopadiotes, who had written a work “against the beard”, as attested by a letter by the so-called Anonymus Florentinus, who can be identified as Georgios (?) Oinaiotes. The Misopogon opens with an ironic description of the Apostate’s beard (pogon), and at the beginning of his rhetorical text, the Anonymus Florentinus responds to Lopadiotes by defending the beard, using – perhaps

30  A sulphurous and versatile emperor not by chance – the term pogon.79 In the letter he does not mention the Misopogon, but in the Lexicon Vindobonense we can detect an interest in those passages in which the Apostate speaks of his own beard: for example, we find three quotes from Chapter 3 of the Misopogon, where Julian provides a self-ironic description of his beard, mocked by the inhabitants of Antioch.80 Only Chapter 7, which features an episode related to Julian’s sojourn in Paris, contains even more quotes.81 Apart from this, Lopadiotes displays an interest in Misopogon passages concerning political and religious issues. For example, he quotes the passage on “old ladies rolling among the tombs” (i.e. Christian women) from Chapter 10,82 the criticism of Julian’s excessive fondness for visiting temples that is attributed to the inhabitants of Antioch in Chapter 15,83 the emperor’s opinion on what demeanour one should keep at the theatre (in Chapter 38),84 and his polemic against the rich in Antioch (in Chapters 40–41).85 But what emerges most prominently from the Lexicon is the Apostate’s proud self-representation: for instance, the description of his sleepless nights on a straw bed (in Chapter 6),86 the rhetorical question by which Julian – invoking Zeus as the protector of the polis and agora – asks the inhabitants of Antioch to explain their ingratitude (in Chapter 39),87 Julian’s proud claim (in Chapter 16) to have read more books than any person his age and yet to be unable to understand Antioch’s sensuous inhabitants,88 and the equally proud defence (in Chapter 37) of comes Orientis Julian, the emperor’s uncle and namesake, who is praised for the care he has shown in governing the city89 (by contrast to Byzantine hagiography and ecclesiastical historiography, which present the same comes as a persecutor and profanator – cf. e.g. Chapter IV). Alongside the emperor’s praise for comes Julian, the Lexicon Vindobonense also presents the profession of clemency he makes against profiteers, again drawn from Chapter 37.90 The Misopogon passages selected by the compiler (who did not include any quotes from Chapters 20–36, as though he had chosen to focus only on the beginning and the end of the work) thus seem to reflect an interest in both aspects of Julian’s polemic: the light-hearted polemic about his beardedness and the more serious one directed against the inhabitants of Antioch. Even the few passages from Julian’s letters quoted in the Lexicon Vindobonense would appear to confirm Lopadiotes’ interest in Julian’s activity as a polemicist. Among other quotations, we find one of ep. 107 Bidez to prefect Ecdicius, in which the emperor requests books by George of Cappadocia, and ep. 112 Bidez, in which Julian orders Ecdicius to expel Athanasius.91 We also find a fragment of a letter to the citizens of Antioch, which has not reached us and is therefore only attested by the first redaction of the Lexicon Vindobonense,92 in addition to quotations from ep. 35 Bidez to philosopher Eusthatius, from ep. 82 Bidez to Nilus,93 and from two spurious letters.94 The presence of spurious letters by Julian is not unprecedented, because these were partly saved from oblivion through a singular misunderstanding, namely the belief that Julian was a master in writing trivialities.95 In the corpus attributed to Julian, the inauthentic letters in which a sophist

A sulphurous and versatile emperor  31 eloquently amplifies acknowledgements or congratulations are precisely the Byzantines’ favourite ones, so much so that they have reached us in numerous copies and so that the largest manuscript family contains nothing but apocryphal texts. By contrast, those letters which are genuine, and which contemporary scholars regard as the most interesting, namely those that best reveal Julian’s personality, are preserved in codex Vossian. gr. 77 III, the most important codex of Julian works, or in manuscripts related to it.96 Lopadiotes was probably interested in the Misopogon on account of the topic of beardedness, but some of the letters recorded seem to suggest that the selection was also intended to document the Apostate’s personality, as this was reflected by the political and religious conflicts of his day.97 The categorical condemnation of the polemicist of Contra Galilaeos often goes hand-in-hand with insults or negative epithets. After the refutations of the 4th and 5th centuries, most prominently those by Cyril of Alexandria (only the first ten books of which – dealing with the Old Testament – survive in full) and Theodore of Mopsuestia (only surviving in a few fragments), Contra Galilaeos is mentioned and condemned by various authors, such as Procopius of Gaza, Severus of Antioch, Photius, Aretas, Theophylact of Ohrid, Michael Glykas, and Philagathus of Cerami.98 These authors’ knowledge is based on an indirect tradition connected to the popularity of the refutations formulated by Christian authors, particularly Cyril of Alexandria.99 When dealing with this lost text, only circulating in fragments, many Byzantine authors appear to be chiefly concerned not with its refutation, but rather with finding insults to hurl at the Apostate: for Theophylact of Ohrid he is “accursed”,100 while for Philagathus “Julian’s fetid tongue, that sharpened razor, as the psalm puts it, has been honed and, having deployed the customary weapons of his impudent talkativeness, mocks the Word and ridicules the Gospel”.101 Aretas ends scr. 24 Westerink, devoted to fr. 107 Masaracchia, by claiming that it would have been better for Julian to be an ass than to “spew out such foolish speeches”.102 Only Photius, while certainly taking some shots at the Apostate, seems eager to discuss the real issues involved in his refutation of fr. 100 Masaracchia (in ep. 187 = Amph. 101), acknowledging that “our Saviour and God had no intention of establishing political regimes”, for his “intention was only a concern for the salvation of souls”.103 Byzantine authors’ often violent reactions to a work known through its indirect transmission bear witness – also from this particular aspect – to the importance of Christianity as the ideological foundation of Byzantine civilization and, by extension, to how subversive the polemic of Contra Galilaeos was perceived to be, even when mediated by refutations. It seems hardly a coincidence that this work is not even recorded in the lengthy list of writings by Julian in the entry devoted to the Apostate in the Souda lexicon (iota 437): the disappearance of the full text of Contra Galilaeos confirms the disappearance of any alternative ideology openly hostile to Christianity in medieval Byzantium, while its circulation in fragments known via indirect

32  A sulphurous and versatile emperor transmission symbolises the survival of the Classical culture of Antiquity through the filter of Byzantine erudition.

Notes 1 See Paschoud (2000, LXXXVIII–LXXXIX). 2 Baldini (2004, 353 n. 9) (see also Forcina 1987, 28). 3 Adler (1931a, 642). 4 De Boor (1912, 393) describes Eunapius as one of the “Lieblingsautoren des Lexikographen”. It is the compilers of Excerpta (particularly that of the Excerpta de sententiis) who have transmitted most of the surviving fragments of Eunapius’ historical work (see Blockley 1981, 97–106). According to Ochoa (1990, 136) the compiler of the Excerpta de sententiis is “un talante abierto e impregnado de curiosidad que no se pone trabas para incluir declaraciones abiertas del paganismo eunapiano y incluso apreciaciones anticristianas”; by contrast, the compiler of the Excerpta de Legationibus, who proved willing to censor some anti-Christian aspects of passages by Eunapius and Zosimus, bears witness to how compilers with “contrapuestas” outlooks contributed to the creation of Excerpta from ancient historians commissioned by Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus (see also Ochoa 1990–1991, 33–47). The thesis that has generally been accepted starting from De Boor (1912, 381–424) (namely, that the lexicon draws upon Eunapius passages found in the Excerpta Constantiniana) is opposed by Sotiroudis (1989b, 76), according to whom Eunapius is the direct source. 5 In lemma kappa 2285 (Adler 1933, 176). 6 See Kaldellis (2007, 332). In letter 50 to Demetrios Drimos, protasecretis and former praetor of the theme of Greece (see Kazhdan/Ronchey 1997, 279), Choniates draws a contrast between the inhabitants of Constantinople, who are incapable of leaving the city walls, and the ancient Greeks, who instead travelled by land and sea (Kolovou 2001, 69), with an allusion to fr. 55 Masaracchia of Contra Galilaeos, where Julian praises those who used to heroically cross land and sea (Masaracchia 1990, 150 = Kinzig/Brüggemann 2017, 493). Letters 47 and 48 by Choniates are strewn with allusions to Julian’s ep. 201 Bidez, whose authenticity is questioned by Bidez (1924, 221) and Kolovou (2003, 46 n. 12). Kolovou (2003, 48–50) analyses the Christianisation of the pagan model performed by Michael Choniates and on pp. 51–54 provides the letters written by the Apostate (or at any rate which Choniates believed he had written) and by his Christian imitator. According to Gigante (1964, 38 and 114–115), a similar instance of the influence of Julian’s thought is provided by Eugenius of Palermo’s poem XI: the Platonic concept it expresses derives from Julian’s Epistula ad Themistium; however, in Eugenius’ case, too, this does not reflect any cryptopagan tendency, but rather a desire to embrace the Platonic message. 7 Filippo (2007, 51). 8 Filippo (2007, 53) (on this passage, see pp. 51 and 54). Even Liutprand of ­Cremona contrasts the Apostate to the first pope (see Trovato 2020, 72–76 and Chapter 1). 9 In Historiae IV.25.6–7, Agathias presents Julian as the victor in the war against Persia; like the pagans Ammianus Marcellinus, Eutropius, and Zosimus, he instead criticises Jovian for the peace treaty? treatise of 363. On John Lydus’ Julian, see Sequi (1993, 171–177), who on p. 176 notes how, in his description of the Persian war in De Mensibus IV.118 John Lydus displays an even more pro-Julian attitude than Ammianus Marcellinus in certain respects. It is impossible to establish whether the Apostate was viewed in the same light in the work of Peter the Patrician – also active in the Justinian era – because we have no surviving fragments on Julian as sole emperor. Fragment 18 Blockley,

A sulphurous and versatile emperor  33 which concerns Caesar Julian’s negotiations with the Chamavi, derives from Eunapius (fr. 12 Blockley); therefore, Blockley (1981, 98) hypothesises that Peter the Patrician may be drawing upon this pro-Julian historian, at any rate as far as the period before his apostasy is concerned: “perhaps he merely used the larger-scale part of Eunapius for the early career of Julian”. According to Ochoa (1990, 259–263), Peter the Patrician changed Eunapius’ text and, more specifically, provided a different interpretation of Julian’s intentions in fr. 18 Blockley, which states – in conflict with Eunapius – that Julian did not want peace with the barbarians. 10 See Kaldellis (2004, 1–17). 11 Brennecke (2006, 359). See Barnes (1993, 160) on this document in the context of the theological struggle between Athanasius and the Arians. 12 See Torres (2017, 77–78) on a similar case in the Latin West. 13 We owe the transmission of the Petitiones Arianorum to the Orthodox milieus in Alexandria. This document presents the Arians as the target of Jovian’s rebuff and mockery; hence, divulging it would not have been in their best interests. 14 See MacCormack (1981, 133–138), Bonamente (1986, 152–154), and Bowersock (1994, 336–338) on the official apotheosis and cult of Julian (Beurlier 1891, 330 lists the ancient sources). 15 Opitz (1935–1941, 148). 16 Bidez (1924, 69). Examples of the use of these three epithets in patristic literature with reference to emperors may be found in Lampe (1961, 642, 822, and 1483). 17 Marasco (2013, 275–282) also identifies some parallels with the Apostate in a Life of the monophysite Patriarch of Antioch, Severus, but these analogies are actually limited to the ascetic lifestyle common to both. 18 Wassiliewsky/Jernstedt (1896, 104), Litavrin (1972, 298). Spadaro (1994, 374) dates the text to the reign of Constantine X Doukas (1059–1067). 19 Jugie (1935, 470). On the letter and its dating, see Blanchet (2008, 422–425). In the late 15th century, the copyist of cod. Laurent. XXXI, 24 (which Lorenzo il Magnifico offered to his son Piero), entitled the Apostate’s letters (on c. 139v) “Letters by the most wise and most serene Emperor Julian” (Bidez/Cumont 1898, 52). This, however, is a sign not so much of respect for the highest ruler of a recently-vanished State, but rather of the Renaissance spirit. Besides, Lorenzo was the author of a Sacra rappresentazione di Giovanni e Paolo, which reflects the influence not just of the medieval tradition, but also of the pagan one embodied by the historian Ammianus Marcellinus (see Nesselrath 1992, 133–144). 20 Jugie (1935, 152). Scolarius, moreover, quotes a passage from Cyril’s Contra Iulianum three times in a polemical work on the Filioque issue (Jugie 1929, 110, 445 and 490), while in another polemical work (against the Jews) he recalls Julian’s attempt to rebuild the Temple, harshly criticising it (Jugie 1930, 257–258). 21 Haldon (1990, 96) (and p. 52 on the date of this work). Concerning this passage, see Magdalino (1999, 130) and Németh (2018, 168). In his Homilies, Leo VI – Constantine VII’s father – partly based his “wide knowledge of ancient myths” on Gregory’s orations, including his invectives (Antonopoulou 2017, 197). 22 Constantine probably received some help in writing this speech (see Flusin 1999, 6–7; on p. 12 he proposes Monday, 19 January 946 as the date on which it was delivered). Be that as it may, the content of the speech cannot have diverged too far from the emperor’s wishes. On this speech, see also Flusin (1998, 137–153) and Efthymiadis (2019, 281). 23 Flusin (1999, 51). 24 Bernardi (1983, 116). In Chapter 14, Gregory the Presbyter instead uses the term apostasin with reference to Maximus the Cynic and his opposition to Gregory of Nazianzus (Lequeux 2001, 166).

34  A sulphurous and versatile emperor 25 The transfer of the Apostate’s remains into one of the most important and ancient churches in Constantinople occurred at an uncertain date: according to Bleckmann (1992a, 386 n. 235) and Johnson (2008, 254–260), under Valens; according to Grierson (1962, 40), Asutay-Effenberger/Effenberger (2006, 60 and 97), Rosen (2006, 396), and Croke (2010, 253), in the years 390–395; according to DiMaio (1978, 45–50), between the 6th and the 10th century; according to Kelly (2003, 590–594), before 390; Arce Martinez (1984, 184–190) is undecided between the hypothesis that it occurred under Theodosius and that advanced by Calza (1972, 366) (followed by Arce 1988, 115), according to whom the translation occurred after 457; according to Banchich (2009, 236 n. 113), it took place between the 10th and the 11th centuries. According to Downey (1959, 47–48) and Johnson (2009, 121 and 213) it is impossible to establish a certain date. 26 See Rochow (1994, 138–139) (131–146 on this sovereign’s Nachleben in Byzantium). 27 See De caerimoniis II.42 and 43 (Dagron/Flusin 2020a, 241 and 283). As further confirmation of the ambiguity implied by the Apostate’s presence in the imperial mausoleum in Christian Constantinople, Constantine Porphyrogenitus, the compiler of De caerimoniis, at the end of the praise-filled life of his forebear Basil I (in PG 109, 368), quotes verse III.179 of the Iliad, which (according to Zosimus III.34, Kedrenos 323.3, and Zonaras XIII.13) adorned Julian’s tomb (this is a verse also used to celebrate other sovereigns, for example in a Pamprepius fragment in Livrea 1979, 13; see Haarer 2018, 519–546). Downey (1959, 37–38) published a different list, known as list C (p. 38 for Julian), and on pp. 40–42 the so-called list R (p. 41 for Julian). See Flusin’s commentary in Dagron/Flusin (2020b, 759, 762–763, 769–770 and 792–793). 28 Ciggaar (1973, 340). According to Vasiliev (1962, 19), Bovini (1962, 170–171 and 177), and Manini (2009, 138), porphyry sarcophagus 3155 from the Istanbul Archaeological Museum contained Julian’s remains, whereas according to Mango (1962, 400–401), DiMaio (1978, 50), Arce Martinez (1984, 190), and Asutay-­ Effenberger/Effenberger (2006, 17 n. 54, 75 and 82–83), Julian was buried in a sarcophagus that is now lost, but which was documented as late as the 18th century (see also Arce 1988, 115). 29 Martínez Manzano (1994, 119); see also Martínez Manzano (1998, 6). 30 For example, in a manuscript copy of ep. 112 Bidez to Ecdicius, where Julian orders Athanasius’ exile, a reader has added the following annotation at the end of the text: “Thrice-accursed and thrice-wretched impious dog and transgressor” (Bidez/Cumont 1898, 25). 31 See Afinogenov in Ljubarskij (1998, 22–23), with regard to the “formalist approach”, primarily based “on a clear distinction between form and contents”. 32 H.E. V.2.15 (Bidez 1960, 193). 33 H.E. V.19.3 (Bidez 1960, 223). Sozomenus is followed almost verbatim by Nikephoros Kallistos (H.E. X.27). 34 Kinzig/Brüggemann (2017, 412). Even at the beginning of the work (Prosph. 4), Cyril states his appreciation of Julian’s talent (Riedweg 2016, 8); his words are taken up verbatim by Michael Glykas in the 12th century (in Bekker 1836a, 470). 35 PG 123, 604. See Trovato (2012, 265–267). 36 However, in a different work Theophylact of Ohrid seems to be implicitly comparing Alexios I to Julian (cf. Chapter 1). 37 An analysis in Praechter (1892, 413–414). Likewise, Procopius of Gaza harshly criticises Julian in his commentary on the Octateuch (PG 87, 236), but in the Panegyricus in Anastasium CPG 7439 uses Libanius’ panegyrics of Julian as his models (see Matino 2005, 32). Similarly, Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus had

A sulphurous and versatile emperor  35 few qualms about drawing upon Libanius’ Dirge on the Death of Julian in the Life of his father Basil I (see Ševčenko 1992, 181). 38 Gautier (1986, 572 e 575) (see Bidez/Cumont 1922, 212). On Gregory Kamateros, see Kazhdan/Ronchey (1997, 304) and Mullett (1997, 350). 39 Monfasani (1984, 161). 40 “Legant, quaeso, qui graece sciunt, imperatoris Iuliani, viri eloquentiae priscae, atticeque ita loquentis, ut nulli Atheniensium cedat” (Mohler 1942, 283). 41 Mohler (1942, 340). On George of Trebizond’s invective, see Monfasani (1976, 152–156) and (2006, 275–294). 42 In the Comparatio (see Trovato 2013, 166). 43 See e.g. Bidez (1924, 161, 183, 200) and Lacombrade (1964, 70). 44 Bidez (1929, 68). 45 Concerning the sources behind the Julian entry in the Souda lexicon, see Ochoa (1990, 146 and 164) and Mango (1997, 5). 46 Adler (1931a, 642–643). The lexicon subsequently introduces Eunapius fragment 27.7 Blockley, which contains the epigram also present in Palatine Anthology XIV.148 (Buffière 1970, 99), yet without referring to Julian as an “apostate”, as the lemma in Palatine Anthology XIV.148 instead does (actually, as Scholl 1994, 156 notes, this lemma does not fit the epigram it is applied to, but rather that known as 28.6 Blockley, and also in the Souda lexicon). 47 Rosen (2006, 403). 48 On Amachius: alpha 1513 (Adler 1928, 135), derived from Socrates (III.15); on Cyril of Heliopolis: kappa 2764 (Adler 1933, 219), derived from Theodoret (H.E. III.79; on Mark of Arethusa: my 219 (Adler 1933, 330), derived from Theodoret (H.E. III.7). 49 Published in Bidez (1924, 214). According to Adler (1931b, 713), it is impossible to establish whether the compilers of the lexicon were directly familiar with Julian’s text. Concerning the collection of Julian’s works employed by the Souda and its relationship with the codices that have reached us, see Bidez (1932, XXIX) and Nesselrath (2015, XVII–XVIII). 50 Ochoa (1990, 137–226) on Eunapius in the Souda lexicon. 51 There is also a mistake, since in zeta 65 (Adler 1931a, 505) Herodotus is credited with a passage from Julian’s ep. 155 Bidez, a letter also quoted in eta 536 (the entry on Herodotus), where it is instead correctly attributed to Julian (Adler 1931a, 588; this correct quote is the source of the misunderstanding in zeta 65: see De Boor 1912, 417–418). On this passage, see Giangiulio (1999, 94). 52 Adler (1935, 74) (pi 853). 53 Adler (1931a, 383–384) (epsilon 2633). 54 Adler (1928, 125) (alpha 1398) and Adler (1933, 489) (ny 607). 55 Ep. 82 is the most frequently quoted letter, in Adler (1928, 83) (alpha 899); Adler (1933, 42) (kappa 497), 230 (lambda 68), 576 (omicron 779) and 606 (omega 26); Adler (1935, 326) (sigma 122), 528 (tau 368) and 797 (chi 191). Ep. 108 is quoted in Adler (1935, 643) (hypsilon 155; see Masterson 2018, 142). 56 Theodoridis (1993, 495) (my 196). See also Favuzzi (2008, 60) concerning another Julian quote in the Souda (tau 856, from Misopogon 13), which Adler missed. 57 Guido (2000, 66). 58 Adler (1931a, 583). 59 The Misopogon is quoted, as well as in tau 856, in the entry on Antioch, alpha 2692 (in Adler 1928, 239) and in the entries iota 284 (Adler 1931a, 629), my 481 (Adler 1933, 352), and tau 277 (Adler 1935, 519) in relation to the proverb “to care less [about something] than [about] frogs in a pond”, which Julian uses to express his complete lack of interest in spectacles. The Consolatio is quoted in

36  A sulphurous and versatile emperor alpha 899 (Adler 1928, 83); iota 675 (Adler 1931a, 671); kappa 254, 2549 and my 382 (Adler 1933, 22, 200, and 344); pi 3124, sigma 469, and tau 1136 (Adler 1935, 267, 365, and 603). 60 Leone (2007, 214). 61 Leone (2007, 17). 62 Leone (2007, 243). On the Byzantine tendency to attribute to Julian other authors’ verses, see Aubreton (1980, 124 n. 2). 63 Tzetzes ironically refers to Julian as Kausitauros in Hist. XIII.493.539 (Leone 2007, 523), as Gregory had already done (or. 4.77). 64 See Van der Valk (1971, 61). Concerning the commentaries on Homer, see Cullhed (2016, 1*–58). 65 Eusthatius quotes it in his commentary on Iliad I.43, I.200, III.236 (Van der Valk 1971, 62, 132, and 645), VI.88, VIII.540 (Van der Valk 1976, 251, and 633), and XIX.398 (Van der Valk 1987, 348), and in his commentary on Odyssey VIII.367 and XI.302 (Stallbaum 1825, 298, and 417). 66 Van der Valk (1976, 186). Eusthatius quotes the same passage in Exegesis in canonem iambicum pentecostalem (Cesaretti/Ronchey 2014, 225). The same work refers (Cesaretti/Ronchey 2014, 187) to an epigram by Julian preserved in the Palatine Anthology (see also Cesaretti/Ronchey 2014, 138*). 67 Van der Valk (1979, 51). 68 Significantly, in quoting Libanius’ monody for Julian in his commentary on Odyssey I.344, Eusthatius does not use the term parabates, but simply writes “Julian” (Stallbaum 1825, 65). 69 Van der Valk (1979, 301). 70 According to Eusthatius, Julian wrote “Pigris” in place of “Tigris” (in Müller 1861, 387; Bidez/Cumont 1922, 216). 71 Müller (1861, 387). 72 Hunger (1978a, 535). 73 Parmentier (1998, 200). 74 In Epitome 146 of the Historia tripartita (Hansen 1995b, 61), in Theophanes (De Boor 1883, 52), George the Monk (De Boor 1978, 544), Pseudo-Symeon (Praechter 1897, 54–55), and Kedrenos 323.3 (Tartaglia 2016, 535). It seems that Symeon Logethete’s Chronicon 90.6 must be excluded on account of a lexical divergence (Wahlgren 2006a, 114). 75 See Kaldellis (2007, 156). 76 A “Rhetor und gentleman scholar” (Gaul 2008, 182), close to Moschopoulos and Planudes, Lopadiotes is included in the list of 59 Byzantine intellectuals from the Palaiologan era in Kazhdan (1982, 92), which completes similar lists drawn up in Ševčenko (1974, 70 nota 2). 77 See Benedetti (1966, 87). 78 See Guida (1979, 215). On the contrary, in Thomas Magister’s lexicon we find only one quote from Julian (Ritschl 1832, 38). 79 Karlsson/Fatouros (1973, 214). 80 In Guida (2018, 223) (tau 46) we find repeated quotations of the passage from Chapter 3 in which Julian speaks of lice running through his beard; in Guida (2018, 38) (alpha 214) another passage from Chapter 3 is quoted that mentions the impossibility for bearded men to have pure, smooth lips; in Guida (2018, 137) (kappa 60) yet another passage from Chapter 3 is quoted concerning the possibility for the Apostate to have a smooth, beardless chin. Moreover, in Guida (2018, 39) (alpha 215) a passage from a Chapter (19) is selected in which Julian returns to the subject of beardedness. 81 Guida (2018, 21) (alpha 99), 103 (epsilon 254), 123 (theta 15), 147 (lambda 33), 203 (rho 1), and 242 (chi 22).

A sulphurous and versatile emperor  37 82 Guida (2018, 141) (kappa 91). 83 Guida (2018, 223) (tau 47). 84 Guida (2018, 187) (pi 102). 85 Guida (2018, 133) (kappa 32) and 45 (beta 3). 86 Guida (2018, 212) (sigma 55). 87 Guida (2018, 230) (hypsilon 38). 88 Guida (2018, 45) (beta 5). 89 Guida (2018, 72) (epsilon 7). 90 Guida (2018, 72) (epsilon 7). 91 Guida (2018, 153) (mu 35) and 194 (pi 139). 92 Text in Guida (1979, 208; commentary on pp. 208–210) and Guida (2018, 92) (epsilon 168). 93 Guida (2018, 184) (pi 81) and 189 (pi 113). 94 Guida (2018, 88) (epsilon 141) and 189 (pi 115). 95 See Elm (2017, 54–68) concerning the formation of the corpus of Julian’s letters. 96 Bidez (1924, XIV). 97 The Misopogon attracted considerable attention even in the 15th century, as is witnessed by the manuscript tradition. In particular, Isidore of Kiev, who was interested in satirists like Lucian, copied it in cod. Vat. gr. 914 (Schreiner 1996, 207–210). In addition to the Misopogon, the Symposion is a focus of interest in other collections (see Nesselrath 2015b, XVIII). 98 See Neumann (1880), Masaracchia (1990), Guida (1996, 241–252), Schamp (2004, 535–554), Tedeschi (2004, 31–59), Bianchi (2006, 89–104; who does not rule out the hypothesis of the direct transmission of Contra Galilaeos until the 12th century) and Guida (2019). Rinaldi (1998, 354–355) had already noted the presence of a new testimony about Julian in Severus of Antioch, but so far this observation of his has been completely ignored. 99 Concerning the indirect transmission of Contra Galilaeos in the Middle Ages, see Trovato (2012, 265–279), Riedweg (2016, LXXXVIII–XC) and Trovato (2020, 71–83). 100 PG 123, 604. 101 Bianchi (2006, 95). 102 Westerink (1968, 224; other insults from Aretas in Westerink 1968, 222, and 224). See Ochoa (1990, 49–55) concerning other polemics of Aretas’ against Julian. 103 Laourdas/Westerink (1984, 82). See Kaldellis (2015, 184).

III The reinvention of Julian by chroniclers, historians, and hagiographers

According to Cyril Mango, most Byzantine saints are liturgical constructions, so much so that their personalities are completely blotted out.1 The Apostate’s personality underwent a similar process of erasure, since he was often assimilated with persecutors prior to Constantine. Hagiographical texts2 and chronicles, particularly anonymous ones, are subject to a constant process of redevelopment and distortion, as they tend to circulate in various redactions that differ not just in form, but also in content.3 It is therefore interesting to examine whether the character of Julian preserved some of its peculiarities, despite the transformations it underwent over the course of the centuries.4 The Homoean tradition, which is keen to lay claim to many martyred saints – possibly more for anti-Orthodox than anti-pagan propaganda ­purposes – casts Julian in the role of a cunning enemy of Christianity, ready to exploit its inner contrasts to avoid presenting himself as an open persecutor. This view is also adopted by some subsequent Orthodox works, such as the 7th-century Chronicon paschale. By contrast, several passions – known to us either directly or indirectly, via the summaries featured in the Orthodox Church’s liturgical books – attest to the fact that in later years some non-­existent saints came to be venerated as martyrs sub Iuliano. Such texts offer an increasingly dark and fanciful portrayal of the emperor. A few years after Julian’s death, in his account of the martyrdom of ­Juventinus and Maximinus, John Chrysostom illustrated the defining features of the emperor’s anti-Christian policies without excessive distortions. However, as early as the 5th century, Theodoret of Cyrrhus spoke in his Historia ecclesiastica of human sacrifices and of an unimplemented plan to wage an all-out war on Christians, even though he did not present Julian as an avowed persecutor. So-called “epic passions”, a genre of hagiographical texts very widespread in Byzantium, frequently portray Julian as a persecutor, torturer, and executioner, on a par with emperors such as Diocletian and Maximinus Daia. In these works we usually find the following recurrent motifs: after the issuing of a persecution edict, the martyr-to-be engages in a lengthy debate with the emperor or the judge representing him; tortures and miracles ensue, leading up to the saint’s martyrdom.5

DOI: 10.4324/9781003179818-3

The reinvention of Julian  39 However, within this process of the Apostate’s assimilation with previous pagan emperors, some exceptions are to be found, sometimes connected to the reception of Gregory of Nazianzus (this is the case with the redaction of the passion of Aemilianus BHG 33b). In the numerous hagiographical texts featuring Julian, it is possible to find certain tendencies that run counter to the predominant one. For instance, in some hagiographical texts on Dorotheus we read that the emperor’s followers would strike Christians secretly, since his was not an openly professed persecution. In the case of the passions of Mark of Arethusa (BHG 2248 e 2250), the Apostate’s presentation is derived from Theodoret’s Historia ecclesiastica; hence, while being very hostile, it does not feature the kind of distortions we find in epic passions. This is also the case in the Vita Hilarionis (BHG 751z), a translation of the original Latin text by St Jerome (BHL 3879). In other Greek translations of the same text, the figure of Julian actually disappears, since the hagiographers’ interest lies entirely in other events surrounding the saint’s life. The entry on St Martin in the Menologion of Basil II goes so far as to describe Emperor Julian’s warm reception of the military saint upon his return from the war, in a complete reversal of the prevailing tendency in Byzantine hagiography. Some of the recurrent motifs found in epic passions instead occur in the passion of Theodoretos (BHG 2425), where the hagiographer attributes the role of torturer and executioner not so much to Julian, but to his uncle of the same name – another apostate. Towards the end of the passion, the ­emperor complains that, in creating a new martyr, his uncle has helped Christian propaganda, thereby frustrating his efforts to implement a different kind of anti-Christian policy. This awareness of Julian’s particular position among pagan emperors – his role as a cunning enemy careful not to create any martyrs – is significantly toned down or even completely removed in several hagiographical texts in which the topoi of epic passions are prominent, if not predominant. A typical epic passion, featuring tortures, miracles, and the conversion of executioners (which nonetheless produces no effect on the stubborn emperor), is the passion of Cyriacus (BHG 465 and 465b), dating from the early 5th century. Here the Apostate is presented as the devil’s last hope to oppose the rise of Christianity, and thus plays a major role as an enemy to be defeated within the context of the history of redemption. It was therefore not merely the lapse of time and the increasing remoteness of Julian’s age that led the topoi of epic passions to acquire a predominant position. On the one hand, Johannes Hagioelita, the author of a passion of Basil of Ancyra (BHG 243), redeveloped the previous hagiographical tradition (represented by passion BHG 242) by drawing upon the topoi of epic passions, and hence darkening the Apostate’s portrayal, according to a tendency that led to the establishment of a fanciful Julian. On the other hand, the opposite trend would appear to be documented by the various redactions of the passion of Aemilianus. Here, by and large, the recurrent features in question

40  The reinvention of Julian are predominant, although one hagiographer (BHG 33b), acquainted with Gregory of Nazianzus, notes that Julian sought to avoid the accusation that he was persecuting Christians for their faith. This memory of the peculiarity of the Apostate’s policies, however, is not predominant in the hagiographical tradition. For example, after the passion of Cyriacus, the image of the emperor as a savage persecutor and cruel executioner was established through the fanciful passions of largely imaginary saints (Barbarus, Artemius, Eusignius, Eugene and Macarius, Copres and Patermutius, Timothy and Manuel, Sabel and Ismael, John and Paul), as well as in passions only known from summaries provided in Orthodox liturgical books. In passions such as that of Barbarus, or of Eugene and Macarius, Julian is portrayed as a persecutor no different from others. By contrast, the passions of Artemius (BHG 170–171) and Eusignius stand out on account of the hagiographers’ ability to combine previous traditions, the topoi of epic passions, certain elements from the early medieval legend of Constantine, and original and compelling motifs in Julian’s presentation. The contrast between the pagan Constantine, who converted to Christianity, and the Christian Julian, who underwent the opposite process, underlies the narrative scheme of the passion of Eusignius. In other epic passions as well (those of Cyriacus, Copres and Patermutius, and Manuel, Sabel, and Ismael), mention is made of his apostasy. This is particularly the case in the passion of Copre and Patermutius, where the hagiographer employs a very rare term (“Julianist”) in contrast to “Christian”. However, Julian’s apostasy is also presented – yet not in opposition to Constantine’s reverse choice – in the Greek translation of the Latin passion of saints Gallicanus, John, and Paul: along with the translation of another Latin passion (that of Gordian), it bears witness to the presence – if only to a very limited degree – of hagiographical traditions of Roman origin about the Apostate in the Byzantine world. In these hagiographical traditions, Julian’s portrayal is not all that different from the predominant one in Byzantine epic passions: the only real difference is that the setting for the cruel and ruthless persecutor’s actions is Rome, rather than Antioch or Constantinople. Hagiography also contributed to the circulation of legends in which the protagonist is a military saint who was not martyred by Julian, but instead performed a posthumous miracle of which the Apostate is the victim. ­According to a contested tradition that was criticised on account of its implausibility by the chronicler Michael Glykas as early as the 12th century, St Mercurius miraculously killed Julian on the battlefield. The saint’s direct intervention was reportedly brought about through the Virgin Mary’s intercession, which assigns an aura of greatness to the emperor – if only in a negative sense. In other hagiographical texts as well, Julian falls victim to divine wrath – and not in the ridiculous circumstances described by Gregory of Nazianzus. Another military saint, St Theodore the Tyro, is instead claimed to have scotched the Apostate’s plan to contaminate the Christians’ food, through the so-called kollyba miracle.

The reinvention of Julian  41 This legend, set in Constantinople, became very popular and is recalled by many authors, including – in the 10th century – the most important Byzantine hagiographer, Symeon the Metaphrast, who nevertheless would appear not to have focused much on texts about martyrs sub Iuliano in his rewriting of the previous hagiographical tradition. In addition to the passion of St Theodore the Tyro, the Metaphrast rewrote another four hagiographical texts featuring the Apostate in the role of a persecutor: the passions of Nikephoros, Artemius and Manuel, Sabel and Ismael, and a life of Athanasius. While making up only a small part of the extensive menologion by Symeon the Metaphrast, one of the most popular liturgical books in the Byzantine world, these texts illustrate some general features of the author’s opinion of the Apostate. The Metaphrast employs four methods of rewriting to compile his collection. The first is to incorporate an already existing text into the menologion, sometimes with the addition of a prologue or conclusion; the second is to rewrite a text, sometimes with the addition of further information; the third is to develop a new account on the basis of several sources; the fourth is to blend tales about different saints (or different groups of saints).6 The first method is used for the passion of Artemius (BHG 172), which is abridged from the Artemii passio (see Chapter VII); the second for the passions of Manuel, Sabel and Ismael (BHG 1024), and Theodore the Tyro (BHG 1763), and for the lives of Athanasius (BHG 183) and Hilarion (BHG 755). Generally speaking, the Metaphrast does not considerably depart from the substance of the texts he rewrites. In some additions we clearly detect a tendency to follow Gregory of Nazianzus’ hostile animus, thereby nuancing the portrait of Julian drawn in some pre- Metaphrastean texts. For example, the Metaphrast rewrites and expands a short sentence about Julian’s death from the Vita Athanasii (BHG 185), so as to stress his ill fame and wretched demise: Having outdone all those before him in impiety, and having shown that their wickedness was but a trifling thing, after waging endless wars against pious men, Julian met an end not quite worthy of his wicked way of life, as though he had been spared in view of future punishments.7 Gregory’s verdict (in or. 42.3) on Julian’s persecution as the most cruel and unjust of all is repeated by the Metaphrast in three passions: those of Artemius, Theodore the Tyro, and Manuel, Sabel, and Ismael.8 In rewriting the previous passion of Manuel, Sabel, and Ismael (BHG 1023), the Metaphrast also significantly changes the description of the circumstances of Julian’s death, censoring any possible allusion to the greatness of the Apostate’s death – albeit a negative greatness. In doing so, he follows Gregory of Nazianzus’ polemical attempt to undermine the charisma of the deceased emperor. The same motivation is possibly the basis of the omission of Chapters

42  The reinvention of Julian 68–70 of the Artemii passio, describing Julian’s death, since in most cases the Metaphrast simply transcribes the text – notwithstanding certain divergences that are easy to explain (e.g. the censoring of Julian’s words about the disgraceful trade plied by Constantine’s mother). One specific and particularly interesting case, which illustrates the changeability and fluidity of hagiographical traditions, is the Metaphrastean passion of Nikephoros (BHG 1332). In other passions (BHG 1331, 1333, and 1334), this saint is assigned to Valerian’s reign, but in the Metaphrast (BHG 1332) – and in a passion (BHG 1332d) that depends on him – he is recalled as the martyr of a persecution “by Julian and Gallus”.9 This idea of a diarchy is probably drawn from a passion (BHG 1331) used by the Metaphrast,10 in which mention is made of the emperors Valerian and Gallus.11 The latter name evidently stems from an alteration of the name of Gallienus (who for some time was joint emperor with his father Valerian), but confusion with the previous diarchy of Trebonianus Gallus and his son Volusianus may also be in play. Only in a notice in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion do Valerian and Gallienus correctly appear as a pair of persecutors,12 while one passion (BHG 1333) is set in the reign of Valerian and “Galkinos”, this name evidently being a corruption of Gallienus.13 In the Metaphrastean passion (BHG 1332), Julian is described as a violent persecutor, in accordance with the earlier passion written by John of Sardis in the early 9th century (BHG 1334), although in this latter work the persecutor is Valerian.14 As the Metaphrast’s passion unfolds, the figure of the emperor is no longer to be found – as in the previous tradition about Nikephoros – because the role of the ‘villain’ is played by the governor and, most importantly, because this is an uplifting tale which, as such, can be set under any persecutor.15 The Metaphrast’s negative verdict about the Apostate thus appears consistent with the variety of opinions expressed in the previous hagiographical literature (although it is formulated across several of his hagiographical texts). Likewise, it is possible to distinguish two phases in Julian’s portrayal in Orthodox liturgical books (one marked by spontaneous variations, the other by conscious standardisation). In the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion (“an assemblage of recensions”, according to Luzzi),16 alongside the portrayal of the emperor as a persecutor and executioner, traces remain visible – as in a geological stratification – of the first verdict formulated by Orthodox Christianity, whereby mention is also made of the Orthodox bishops exiled by his predecessor, the Arian Constantius II. By contrast, another liturgical book, the so-called Imperial Menologion, faithfully reflects Gregory of Nazianzus and Symeon the Metaphrast’s resolutely hostile animus: the portrayal of Julian as the violent and cruel persecutor of many saints does not significantly differ from one notice to the next in the menologion, reflecting a conscious pursuit of consistency in the Apostate’s presentation. In the hagiographical literature subsequent to the compilation of these liturgical books, represented by the Passio Martyrum XV Tiberiopoli (BHG 1199) by Theophylact, Archbishop of Ohrid, and by the Elogium Mercurii

The reinvention of Julian  43 (BHG 1277) by Nikephoros Gregoras, the consolidated condemnation of the last pagan emperor is preserved unchanged, albeit with certain nuances between the two authors. The former is interested in the vicissitudes of Christianity within his diocese (from the initial evangelisation, which overcomes the Apostate’s opposition, to the invasion of pagans who enslave the Christian population, down to the Bulgars’ conversion). Within this broad picture, only the first part of Theophylact’s Passio is devoted to Julian’s reign: the author presents a general overview of the Apostate’s anti-Christian policies, which he filters through a hostile lens. Theophylact juxtaposes this with an account of 15 martyrs derived from an epic passion in which the persecutors and executioners are the ministers of the emperor, whose death is not recounted. By contrast, in writing about St Mercurius, Nikephoros Gregoras focuses his narrative on the legend of a posthumous miracle performed by the saint, who kills Julian on the battlefield. The emperor is here presented not just as an enemy of Christianity, but also as a general. With regard to this latter aspect, Gregoras develops a portrayal of a steadfast and combative military leader at the head of Campanian and Celtiberian soldiers, who is struck down by inexorable divine punishment. Thus, in the most recent among the numerous hagiographical texts from the Byzantine millennium featuring Julian, the emperor’s condemnation is once again confirmed by one of the most erudite and important intellectuals of the Palaiologan era. The representation of Julian in Byzantine chronicles is marked by a tendency to construct – as in hagiographical texts – a fictional rather than historical figure. However, there are some exceptions, most notably Zonaras, who in the 13th century drew upon a late-antique source now lost (or on the tradition stemming from it). This makes him one of the most important authors for reconstructing the historical Julian. Although it is difficult to identify the precise origin of every element present in the writings of Byzantine chroniclers,17 in many cases we find that they are simply copying – sometimes verbatim – one or more previous chroniclers. Therefore, it is possible to analyse the criteria by which certain Byzantine chroniclers selected and used their sources, sometimes with additions and censorship, to present the figure of the Apostate to their readers. One first subdivision can be drawn between chroniclers who appear to be passively repeating their sources’ material and those who instead redevelop this material in an original way according to their own personal perspective. One example of the former approach is provided by minor chronicles, in which all that is mentioned about Julian is the duration of his reign, since these texts are mere lists of emperors. We thus find many traces of the neutral mention of Julian within lists of Byzantine emperors,18 yet the negative verdict on the Apostate is so pervasive that it even affects certain minor chronicles, which condemn his apostasy.19 The summary negative verdict voiced by the chronicler Joel20 (“After having committed much evil against the Christians, he is done away with by divine justice in Persia”)21 best

44  The reinvention of Julian encapsulates the predominant opinion among Byzantine chroniclers, and hence also what the vast majority of readers knew about the Apostate: a wicked sinner punished by divine justice. Other examples of the former approach are provided by John of Antioch and Zonaras, who combine information drawn from a pagan source and Christian ones, apparently without worrying too much about contradictions and the fact that in doing so they were allowing a voice not hostile to the Apostate to be heard in Byzantium. For example, Zonaras’ Julian is twofold: on the one hand, he is the persecutor, the executioner of many martyrs, and ultimately a victim of divine wrath; on the other, his political and military actions are pragmatically evaluated on the basis of a late-antique pagan source, the so-called Leoquelle. Other chroniclers, by contrast, deeply redevelop their sources. This is the case with the Syrian Malalas, who in the 6th century partly reinterpreted the account of Julian by adding a marvellous element in the form of a prophecy about his death that was eventually fulfilled through a posthumous miracle by St Mercury. This perspective, however, does not seem particularly hostile towards the Apostate, despite the evident influence of Antiochene hagiographical traditions. Julian is presented as a friend and correspondent of St Basil’s, one of the fathers of the Greek Church, according to a reliable tradition later taken up by the Chronicon paschale, which nevertheless proves far more hostile than Malalas. In the early 9th century, the chronicler Theophanes paid great attention to episodes of impiety and profanation. He presented his information with further darkening of Julian’s portrayal compared to his sources, which were already rather unfavourable to the emperor (for example, in the Epitome Historiae ecclesiasticae, compiled in the early 7th century, his death is described through a gloomy veil of massacres and divine wrath). George the Monk weaves the Apostate’s tale according to the approach of his Chronicon, inspired by the most rigorous Orthodoxy. This is also the case with Theodoret’s Historia ecclesiastica, which reflects an animus violently hostile to the last pagan emperor while painting an even darker picture. Here, the ambitious and cruel Apostate does not hesitate to engage in hecatombs, human sacrifices, and mass murders against the Orthodox before being punished by divine justice. Kedrenos, who as far as Julian’s reign is concerned draws upon the ­so-called chronicle of Pseudo-Symeon (in turn based on Theophanes), adds information from other sources, most notably George the Monk: the ­already negative portrayal of Julian derived from Pseudo-Symeon thus ­acquires even gloomier shades, although Kedrenos does not obliterate certain elements of pagan origin – for example, he mentions the laudatory funerary inscription for the Apostate also known from the pro-Julian historian Zosimus. In the 12th century, the same profoundly hostile assessment is expressed by Constantine Manasses, arguably the author who displays the greatest

The reinvention of Julian  45 acrimony towards the Apostate given the violent insults he hurls at him. This unmitigated condemnation is even more resolute than that voiced by George the Monk, despite the fact that Manasses was familiar with the Leoquelle tradition, derived from a late-antique pagan author. Manasses would therefore appear to have consciously glossed over almost all the information from the Leoquelle, since it conflicted with his rigidly Orthodox perspective: as in George the Monk, Julian here perpetrates mass murders and is struck down by divine punishment. By contrast, Michael Psellos was familiar with Gregory of Nazianzus’ invectives and Symeon the Metaphrast’s menologion, yet did not use them in order to construct his most interesting and unique portrait of Julian in the Historia Syntomos. This is a very complex portrait, reflecting the author’s personal assessments and criticism of leading personalities in 11th-century Constantinople. Another interesting case is Michael Glykas, who in the 12th century reproposed George the Monk’s dark portrayal of Julian and offered a striking refutation of the reliability of the legend of St Mercurius by invoking various passages from Gregory of Nazianzus’ orations. Glykas thus displays considerable originality within the context of the Byzantine tradition of hagiographical texts and chronicles, which either unhesitatingly accept the legend of St Mercurius or do not mention it at all. Even if we were to assume that Glykas is simply copying the refutation provided by a previous author, his choice to reject the two most common approaches is noteworthy. Another author influenced by Gregory of Nazianzus’ works and polemical spirit is Nikephoros Kallistos Xanthopoulos in the first half of the 14th century. Gregory’s influence fits well with Nikephoros’ quasi-archaeological endeavour, reflecting his eagerness to revamp a literary genre (ecclesiastical history) that had been out of favour since the 7th century, after its flourishing in Late Antiquity. Nikephoros is barely influenced by the later traditions about imaginary saints and the tendency to increase the number of impious acts committed by Julian’s followers: for example, he does not mention the profanation of the spring in Nicopolis (described by Theophanes and authors drawing upon his work), or the tree in Ermoupolis (described by Kedrenos), although he mentions these sacred sites precisely in his section about Julian. Nikephoros’ portrayal of Julian in the years of Andronichus II’s reign therefore largely agrees with Christians’ view of the emperor at the time of Theodosius II or Justinian: it represents a return to Byzantium’s origins.

Notes 1 Mango (1992, 399). 2 See the list of texts on Julian, with a bibliography, in Trovato (2018, 11–50). 3 See Bleckmann (1992a, 6), Wahlgren (2006a, 119*), and Canella (2007, 82–83). 4 See Busine (2018a, 39–47) for other perspectives in the study of hagiographical texts.

46  The reinvention of Julian 5 See Delehaye (1966a, 171–226) on these topoi. Different passions share these features and therefore cannot be dated precisely: Beck (1959, 270 and 402), generically assigns them to the years between the 4th and 8th century. 6 See Høgel (2002, 92). 7 See the passage in Symeon the Metaphrast’s source (in PG 25, CCXLIII) and the Metaphrast’s far more extensive rewriting (in PG 25, CCIX). 8 PG 115, 1161D; AASS Nov. IV, 44; Latyšev (1914, 28). 9 Latyšev (1911, 38 and 322). In an Armenian synaxarion, Nikephoros becomes the martyr of a persecution unleashed by “Valerius and Galerius” (Bayan 1927, 11– 13). In various studies on St Nikephoros (AASS Febr. II, 283; Delehaye 1940, 56 and 1955, 59; Garitte 1958, 155; Sauget 1967c, 870–871, Efthymiadis 1991, 23–32) no mention is made of this peculiar dating of his martyrdom to Julian’s reign. 10 See Efthymiadis (1991, 31–32). 11 PG 114, 1369. 12 Delehaye (1902, 453). A reader of the Metaphrast had perhaps realised the impossibility of Gallus and Julian being the persecutors, since the elder of the two passed away when the Apostate was still a private citizen. On his codex he therefore corrected the names of the persecuting emperors to “Valerian and Gallerianus” (Latyšev 1911, 322), merging the names of Gallienus and Galerius. In one codex (Paris. 1594) of the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion we find the name “Gallerianus” in place of “Gallienus” (Delehaye 1902, 453); the Metaphrast’s reader may have been familiar with this specific redaction. 13 AASS Febr. II, 283. 14 See the text by John of Sardis (Efthymiadis 1991, 38–39) along with the Metaphrast’s (in Latyšev 1911, 322). Other examples of passion BHG 1334 are provided by Efthymiadis (1991, 31–32). John of Sardis, moreover, foreshadows Symeon the Metaphrast’s rewriting techniques (see Efthymiadis 1991, 28 e 30). 15 According to the Bollandists, historia non est, sed pia fabella ad commendandum praeceptum Domini de condonandis ex anima iniuriis excogitata (Delehaye 1940, 56). 16 Luzzi (2014, 200). 17 Studies on Byzantine chronicles fluctuate between two extreme positions. On the one hand, we have the position that was predominant among German scholars – particularly in the late 19th century – who examined chronicles in search of the sources used. They regarded many chroniclers as mere transcribers of previous works: for example, Bleckmann (1992a, 5) believes that we must be grateful to chroniclers like Zonaras and Syncellus for having summed up their sources “unreflektiert und mechanisch”, while according to Treadgold (2007a, 246–256 and 311–329; 2007b, 709–745) Malalas’ and John of Antioch’s works plagiarise the lost one by Eustathius of Epiphania. According to those scholars favouring the opposite perspective (on Malalas, see e.g. Scott 1990, 160, Jeffreys 2003, 507, and Reinsch 2009, 251), the redevelopment of the sources by the authors under investigation makes it difficult, if not impossible, to draw any certain conclusions concerning the origin of the information they provide. Moreover, the manuscript transmission of these texts means that changes (even substantial changes) may have been made by readers (see e.g. Tartaglia 2007, 241 with regard to chronicles). Other objections to the claim that it is possible to reconstruct the transmission of this information have recently been raised by Banchich (2009, 10–11), according to whom the formation of collections such as the 10th-century Excerpta Constantiniana made the blending of sources on a wide scale possible. 18 For example, all that the Chronographeion Syntomon states about Julian, besides the duration of his reign, is that he was Constantine’s nephew (Schoene 1875, 101); in Peter of Alexandria’s Ekhtesis Chronon, which can be dated to the late

The reinvention of Julian  47 9th or 10th century (see Lilie 1999, 26), we find no negative verdicts about the Apostate (apart from the chronological data, the text only mentions the emperor’s death in Persia: Samodurova 1961, 195). Likewise, the Chronographicon Syntomon, attributed to the Patriarch of Constantinople Nikephoros, does not insult Julian, and in the version of the text which comes closest to the original according to the editor, after the information about the duration of the emperor’s reign we read that he was killed in Persia (De Boor 1880, 96). In a list of Augusti, by contrast, Julian’s name is followed by the usual epithet of parabates (De Boor 1880, 104), as is also the case in a Greek chronicle from southern Italy (Saletta 1966, 52). 19 This is the case, for example, with a Chronographia Syntomos which, after mentioning the two years of Julian’s reign, records his apostasy and wretched demise (Bauer 1909, 58). According to Bauer, this chronicler, active under Basil II, drew upon Theophanes and the second edition of Nikephoros’ Chronographicon Syntomon, completed in the year 848 (Bauer 1909, 12). 2 0 Practically nothing is known about Joel, who was active in the years of the Latin Empire of Constantinople (Beck 1965, 191; Mazal 1967, 127). His work, which for the period up to 948 is based on George the Monk (Moravcsik 1958, 348–349), enjoyed wide circulation between the mid-13th century and the second half of the 14th (Mazal 1967, 131). 21 Bekker (1836b, 38).

IV The blood of innocents The victims of a sovereign who is “deceitful, capable of anything, and skilled in doing evil” IV.1  The 4th century, between the Orthodox and Homoeans The Christian tradition records numerous martyrs and confessors of the Faith under Julian’s reign,1 yet few testimonies about them are to be found in Gregory of Nazianzus’ first invective against Julian (or. 4): – the torturing of priests and their followers during the implementing of the decree to restore pagan temples; a popular uprising against Christians in Alexandria (or. 4.86); – act of violence and murders perpetrated against consecrated virgins (or. 4. 87);2 – the torturing of Mark, Bishop of Arethusa (or. 4.88–91); – human sacrifices in Antioch, skilfully mentioned via preterition (“I will say nothing about the Orontes and the nightly murders which the Orontes concealed at the emperor’s command, its stream choked with corpses”), and the persecution of Caesarea’s inhabitants (or. 4.92); – the dismissal and sentencing of a governor who in Julian’s eyes was guilty of having imprisoned not just Christians but also pagans after a popular uprising (or. 4.93). In stressing the tortures inflicted on priests and their followers (or. 4.86), Gregory makes skilful use of a preterition formula,3 as though he could not list all the victims on account of their considerable number. He is even more reticent when it comes to the unrest at Alexandria, where he speaks of human blood being shed in a Christian church. The main victim of the uprising in this city was the heretical bishop George, who is bitterly attacked in another work of Gregory’s (or. 21.16 and 21).4 Gregory is also reticent about the bodies filling the river, cisterns, wells, and canals in Antioch,5 and provides few details about the persecution of Caesarea’s inhabitants.6 Even in his second invective, he mentions Christians who fell victim to the pagan reaction, yet without providing any names: a young man was brought to trial for destroying the altar of the Mother of the Gods, while another young man mocked his torturers by inviting them to try their worst on the only part of his body still unharmed (or. 5.40).

DOI: 10.4324/9781003179818-4

The blood of innocents  49 Gregory, therefore, does not mention any death sentences passed by the emperor on Christians qua Christians. The only Christian who is named as a victim of Julian is the Bishop of Arethusa, Mark, a representative of the Homoean Church, who survived his tortures.7 He is likewise presented as the victim of an outburst of popular rage that was halted by the emperor’s own intervention, as Gregory himself admits. The accusation that Julian abandoned the role playing (or. 4.85) whereby he had left the perpetration of violence up to the masses,8 in order to launch a genuine persecution, is implicitly disproved by Gregory’s list of people responsible for the tragic deeds he recalls: the Alexandrians (or. 4.86) and the citizens of Heliopolis, Gaza, and Arethusa (or. 4.86) – in other words, the pagan rabble. In Alexandria, moreover, a popular uprising against the heretic George broke out as soon as the news of Constantius II’s death reached the city; so it is clear that Gregory is distorting the facts for polemical purposes.9 By stating, in or. 5.9, that the Apostate handed over the Christians to ‘demons’ only after his return from Persia, Gregory himself acknowledges that one could not yet speak of a persecution: Julian always respected one of the main points in his programme, namely his attempt to openly distance himself from the pre-Constantinian persecutions.10 In the two orations in which George seeks to erect a stela to the apostate emperor’s eternal infamy, he does not mention any instances of the emperor’s direct responsibility. As the author himself writes, given the limited extent of his work, he could not collect all the relevant information (or. 4.20), a task he instead left to historians (or. 4.79). This choice may therefore have justified a selection of the rumours that had started to blend actual facts (such as the treatment received by Mark of Arethusa) with the black legend of Julian (already in the process of being developed in or. 4.92). Another factor might be the internal conflict between Homoean and Orthodox Christians: the censoring of the name of George, the heretical Bishop of Alexandria massacred by the mob, leaves few doubts in this regard. Certainly, there were other martyrs that the Homoeans were exalting, possibly by accusing Gregory of Nazianzus and his friend Basil of displaying a conciliatory attitude towards the apostate emperor. Traces of these martyrs endure in the tradition concerning Julian’s miraculous death (cf. Chapter VI). In this respect, too, Gregory – consciously, it would seem – makes no mention of a Christian tradition that had already become established, and according to which the Apostate’s end had already been foretold by certain ascetics. In or. 5.2, after a brief mention of the divine punishment inflicted upon the persecutors, Gregory recalls the “teachings received through dreams and waking visions”.11 The aim was not to assign any greatness to Julian’s death, so as to portray him as a ridiculous figure who died in a ridiculous way.12 Following Gregory’s invectives, a Homoean author wrote a Chronicle (CHAP 730), now lost, that included a list of Homoean martyrs. This can be reconstructed through a comparison with subsequent works, such as the Paschal Chronicle (CHAP 699) composed under Heraclius.13 Julian’s short

50  The blood of innocents reign would therefore appear to have marked, on the one hand the decline of the Homoean Church, and on the other the creation of a rich martyrology that over time was to play an important role even within Orthodox hagiography. In the Paschal Chronicle, the information about Homoean martyrs14 is preceded by the statement – clearly of Homoean origin – that upon the Apostate’s rise to power in 361, “the peace of the churches was severed”.15 The tendency distinguishing this Homoean source is also evident from a subsequent passage of the Paschal Chronicle: he devised plots against the church for its confusion, and brought these things upon it. He wanted to let loose upon the churches all those who had previously been demoted for various foul heresies, contriving pretexts against the churches of God from the disturbances that arose.16 In the Paschal Chronicle, the list of victims opens with Athanasius’ rival, Gregory of Cappadocia,17 to whom an Orthodox source would hardly have assigned the first place in a list of martyrs.18 The text then describes: – the profanation of the remains of John the Baptist at Sebaste (the bishop of which, Eusebius, was Homoean)19 and of those of Patrophilus, Bishop of Scythopolis, who is described as a saint in the Chronicon,20 but not by later authors (Theophanes and Nikephoros Kallistos),21 who therefore consciously corrected their Homoean sources, since Patrophilus had been an enemy of St Athanasius’;22 – martyrs from Gaza and Ascalon; – the martyrdom of Cyril, a dean in Heliopolis;23 – the profanation, through an image of Dionysus, of the church in Emesa, whose bishop Paul was Homoean: this was the consequence not of a popular uprising, as in the previous cases, but of a measure taken by the authorities;24 – the profanation of the church in Epiphania, which resulted in its bishop, Eusthatius, a Homoean, dying of shock;25 – the future emperor Valentinian’s confession of the Christian faith;26 – the martyrdom of Arthemius;27 – the martyrdom of Aemilianus at Durostorum, a city in Moesia;28 – a reference to “many others” who distinguished themselves as Christian confessors.29 Likewise, it is possible to detect traces of the Homoean tradition in the account of the events surrounding the translation of St Babylas’ relics in Antioch – particularly in relation to the Christian procession that accompanied it singing psalms against idolatry, and hence in opposition to the emperor.30 The fire that destroyed the temple of Apollo at Daphne and the emperor’s consequent orders to close down the main church in Antioch are recalled by several Christian sources,31 but only Theodoret, who draws

The blood of innocents  51 upon the Homoean source, writes that the church was in the hands of the Arians and that Euzoius, the Homoean Bishop of Antioch, opposed the measure.32 Homoean circles are also the origin of the tradition concerning the destruction of Christ’s statue at Paneas (Caesarea Philippi), which was replaced by a statue of Julian and eventually destroyed by heavenly fire.33 They also lie behind the tradition concerning the dialogue between Julian and the Homoean Maris, Bishop of Chalcedon, an intimate of Eudoxius’ (the Homoean Bishop of Antioch and later of Constantinople): the emperor, lambasted for his apostasy, criticises the bishop for his blindness, and the latter thanks God for having spared him the sight of Julian’s impiety and impudence.34 Likewise, the cult of the martyrs Juventinus and Maximinus, who were army officers, spread in Antioch under Valens and Euzoius.35 Other pieces of information possibly deriving from the Homoean historian are to be found in the works of 5th-century historians: the information about the martyrdom of Macedonius, Theodoulos, and Tatian in Meros;36 about the Antioch presbyter Theodoret;37 and about Eusebius, Nestabus, and Zeno, who fell victim to the pagan reprisals in Gaza against the acts of violence perpetrated under the Homoean Constantius II.38 The cult of Eupsichius, a martyr from Caesarea in Cappadocia, would also appear to have first emerged in Homoean milieus; within a few years, it was embraced by Orthodox milieus,39 as also occurred with Mark of Arethusa.40 Anonymous soldiers, mentioned by Gregory of Nazianzus (or. 4.65 and 4.84) and Theodoret (H.E. III.17), can plausibly be traced back to Homoean milieus,41 insofar as they had previously served under Constantius II.42 The reason for their sentencing is not always clear: it may have been their link to Julian’s cousin, rather than their religious faith. The Homoean source would therefore appear to be the most detailed among those used by 5th-century authors recounting the history of the pagan reaction’s victims. Moreover, even pieces of information on martyrs or traditions not stemming from our Homoean source often, in any case, have their roots in Homoean milieus: the only pieces of information of confirmed Orthodox origin are Jerome’s account on Hilarion, which is largely unreliable given the panegyric purpose it serves,43 and Rufinus’ one about Athanasius’ flight (H.E. X.35).44 It thus seems that in the 5th century, there was no other major tradition about the martyrs under Julian apart from the Homoean one, since it was chiefly the Homoean Church that had suffered from the pagan reaction.45 As Eupsychius’ case shows, as Orthodoxy prevailed, the tradition regarding these martyrs in turn became Orthodox, with certain exceptions. Homoean martyrs who had been harshly condemned as Arians (for instance, George of Cappadocia) never entered the Orthodox tradition; others, like Arthemius, did, despite their heretical background. Orthodox writers from the late 4th or 5th century did their best to eliminate any evident traces of the Homoean tradition; but later authors, in all likelihood owing to their ignorance, did not do so – as is evident from the 7th-century Paschal Chronicle.

52  The blood of innocents The most evident feature of the Homoean tradition is that the martyrs are not the victims of a widespread persecution, but rather of popular uprisings designed to avenge acts of provocation undertaken against paganism under Constantius II’s reign or after the Apostate’s rise to power. Moreover, the Homoean tradition mentions acts of provocation directed against the emperor: for example, Bishop Maris’ insults and the singing of psalms against idolatry during the translation of St Babylas’ relics in Antioch. In the Homoean tradition, the leading causes of martyrdom under Julian are in any case the destruction of pagan temples or cult furnishings: significantly, the Homoean tradition, and especially the author of our Homoean source, is interested in the cult sphere and does not ignore the pagans’ desire to make the cult of martyrs impossible. For example, the churches in Emesa and Epiphania were turned into temples, and martyrs’ remains were incinerated, mixed with those of animals, or destroyed.46 Despite the fragmentary state of the Homoean source, its consolatory and edifying character is evident: divine vengeance on apostates and impious people is not long in coming, as in the case of Cyril of Heliopolis’ executioners, or of comes Julian and his followers (also apostates), or that of apostate clerics like Theotecnus and Hero, and of Thalassius – a pagan priest deemed responsible for several persecutory measures.47 In the end, punishment also came for Julian himself, and it struck not just the impious, but even pagan cults: it was probably in such terms that the Homoean tradition presented the miraculous destruction of Julian’s status at Paneas, and of the temple of Apollo at Daphne.48 An anti-­ pagan drive and a zealous desire to bear witness to one’s faith would thus appear to distinguish Homoean Christianity’s image of itself and of its conduct under Julian’s reign.49 The Homoean source also stresses the role of anti-Christian popular uprisings,50 and does not present the Apostate as a persecutor modelled after pre-Constantinian emperors, but rather as a versatile and cunning enemy who is aware of Christian infighting and knows how to exploit it. It cannot safely be established whether the Homoean source nonetheless presented popular anti-Christian riots as spontaneous or as incited by the emperor. The former hypothesis seems preferable: in the martyrology of the Paschal Chronicle, Julian is only said to have taken the initiative in relation to Arthemius.51 The mob’s responsibility in the death of many Homoean martyrs and the stress on their zeal in seeking martyrdom are therefore clues as to the fact that the Homoean source did not attribute any deaths to Julian, apart from that of Arthemius, which was apparently presented as the outcome of a sentence issued at the end of a formally regular trial. The information developed in the Homoean source (and in the Homoean tradition more generally) therefore provides the first comprehensive presentation, after Gregory’s invectives, of the Apostate’s anti-Christian policies. The emperor is seen as a shrewd and skilled politician who was fairly successful in his attempt to stop Christianity without officially resorting to persecution or violent measures.

The blood of innocents  53 In the Orthodox camp, Gelasius of Caesarea, who died at the end of the 4th century, wrote an ecclesiastical history in Greek (CHAP 176 = CPG 3521) which can partly be reconstructed through later authors.52 In relation to Julian’s religious policies, Gelasius apparently highlighted the recalling of the bishops exiled by Constantius II,53 which represents an action in favour of the Orthodox. The emperor is said to have resorted to the use of force only against Athanasius, presented as an obstacle to the fulfilment of his plans. In this context too, however, the Apostate does not emerge as the promoter of any other anti-Christian measures; indeed, the saint compares him to a passing cloud: his role is therefore minimised.54 The praising of the repeatedly exiled Athanasius – against whom the army itself was deployed – nonetheless seems like an attempt to counter Homoean propaganda by presenting an Orthodox victim of Julian’s persecution. Therefore, unlike in the Homoean source, there is no trace of a martyrology here, possibly because Gelasius of Caesarea had witnessed the religious struggles, as part of which the Homoeans had extolled their own martyrs.55 The earliest surviving hagiographical work by an Orthodox author on martyrs under Julian concerns the military saints Juventinus and Maximinus. Venerated by the Homoean Church,56 they later became the object of a panegyric (BHG 975 = CPG 4349) that John Chrysostom delivered between 389 and 397.57 Here one clue may be found as to the Orthodox appropriation of originally Homoean traditions. The author recalls some pious emperors (in the plural: in addition to Constantine, also the Homoean Constantius II) under whom certain Christian faithful had stood out for their destruction of pagan altars and temples:58 these are the very causes of martyrdom recalled in the Homoean tradition. Julian is introduced as the most impious of all emperors (“There was an emperor in our generation who outdid all his predecessors in impiety”), but also as a cunning enemy who has grasped the importance of martyrdom for Christians and their propaganda.59 Once he has been informed of the saints’ criticism of his plan to restore paganism, Julian has them arrested on a charge of lese-majesty,60 and, to deny them the honour of martyrdom, orders that they be executed in secret. Shrewdness and an ability to carry out wicked deeds covertly are therefore Julian’s hallmarks. While familiar with the model of the so-called epic passions,61 Chrysostom does not deeply alter the portrayal of the Apostate’s anti-­ Christian policies:62 while the Apostate is harshly criticised, no persecution is described – the two saints are arrested and sentenced for lese-majesty, and many fellow Christians are allowed to visit them. In other words, the emperor is “deceitful, capable of anything, and skilled in doing evil”, to quote a copyist’s verdict that came to be included in many manuscripts as part of the text.63 Julian also features in other speeches by John Chrysostom: in that in honour of St Babylas (de sancto Babyla contra Iulianum et gentiles CPG 4348 = BHG 208), many chapters are devoted to the failure of the emperor’s religious restoration. But not even in this work does Chrysostom describe any persecution: like Gregory of Nazianzus, he states that the emperor sought

54  The blood of innocents to destroy Christianity only after his Persian campaign.64 The image of Julian as a violent persecutor therefore had yet to take hold. In the following century, Theodoret bears witness to a process of negative distortion of the figure of Julian in relation to the tradition on Juventinus and Maximinus: after having personally interrogated the two saints, the emperor inflicts “bitter and cruel tortures” on them;65 but even in this case we are not dealing with a persecution.66 Likewise, Julian does not appear as a bloodthirsty persecutor in the Historia Lausiaca (BHG 1435–1438v = CPG 6036), a work written a mere half-century after the Apostate’s death in which Palladius describes Orthodox monasticism. We only find a brief mention of an encounter between the monk Philoramus of Galatia and the emperor, who decides to punish the Christian for his insults by having him shaved.67 All in all, then, for late 4thand early 5th-century Orthodox writers there were practically no martyrs sub Iuliano. Perhaps Homoean propaganda still prevented the ‘purification’ of their memory, which only became possible once the Arian controversy started fading into the background in the 5th century.68

IV.2 Fifth-century Church historians and the spread of the black legend Fifth-century ecclesiastical histories feature concise versions of unlikely passions, yet do not include the kind of distortions we find in numerous hagiographical texts that present the Apostate as an openly violent persecutor. No traces of these hagiographical traditions are apparently to be found in the fragments of the Ecclesiastical History by the Anomoean Philostorgius (CHAP 376).69 He opens (in VII.1) the section of his historical work devoted to Julian with a scene that seems to reflect the influence of the tradition of epic passions: thanks to Julian’s many edicts, the pagans can inflict unspeakable acts of wickedness and unprecedented torments on Christians.70 Philostorgius, however, does not conceal Christianity’s real conditions visà-vis the Apostate: he accuses Athanasius of complicity in George’s death, the latter being the only Christian martyr whom the Anomaean historian names explicitly (VII.2), as far as we can tell from the fragments of his work.71 In VII.7 Philostorgius also recalls Valentinian’s confession before Julian, but previously (VII.4) describes – apparently, as the Homoean source already did – the emperor’s policy of fuelling dissent within Christian ranks, following the recall of the bishops exiled by Constantius II: He gave either side full permission to do whatever it could to regroup and strengthen its position. As a result, they fell upon each other, bringing great disgrace and criticism upon the faith, which was just what the Apostate wanted.72 The Byzantine hagiographical traditions known from numerous passions are therefore not attested in the Philostorgius fragments and, in the case

The blood of innocents  55 of the only martyr sub Iuliano mentioned in them – namely, George of ­ appadocia – the person accused is Athanasius, the most important repreC sentative of the rival, Orthodox strand of Christianity. Socrates, Sozomen, and Theodoret of Cyrrhus, the 5th-century authors of three Orthodox ecclesiastical histories, acknowledge the cautiousness with which Julian sought to defeat Christianity, although Theodoret presents the emperor as a bloodthirsty tyrant who performed blood sacrifices.73 In the Ecclesiastical Histories by Socrates (CHAP 432) and Sozomen (CHAP 442), the Apostate wishes to avoid being perceived as a violent persecutor (Socrates III.12 and Sozomen V.4.6, V.4.9, V.11.12, V.15.8, V.17.1, and V.17.12; Sozomen V.5.1 also mentions the banning of forced apostasy). But actually, according to Socrates III.14 and Sozomen V.7.8, Julian tolerates his followers’ brutal behaviour.74 To the reader, this charge of hypocrisy suggests that the emperor, through his failure to punish the culprits, is indirectly responsible for the deaths of George of Cappadocia and of Macedonius, Theodoulos, and Tatian in Socrates (respectively, III.2 and III.15), who nonetheless mentions few martyrs sub Iuliano and presents the emperor as a violent persecutor only in his intentions.75 Socrates draws the account about the confessor Theodore of Antioch from Rufinus, but adapts it to show that “Julian was not only a persecutor of Christians, but was becoming a worse one”:76 this incident would reveal the emperor’s “hidden disposition”.77 According to Socrates (H.E. III.19.1–3), Julian would have persecuted the Christians like Diocletian, had the preparations for the Persian war not prevented him from doing so.78 Socrates thus provides a far more negative portrayal of Julian than Rufinus,79 drawing upon Gregory of Nazianzus’ and John Chrysostom’s descriptions. However, according to Socrates, the only action directly ordered by Julian is the torturing of the confessor Theodore (Socrates III.19). Earlier on, in III.15, with regard to the martyrs Macedonius, Theodoulos, and Tatian from Meros in Phrygia, Socrates provides what appears to be a concise version of a passion very similar to that of Aemilianus of Durostorum, another martyr from Julian’s reign.80 This information would appear to be the only trace in Socrates’ work of the hagiographical literature concerning saints sub Iuliano.81 The emperor is not presented as personally responsible for the Meros events, and in III.14.7 the historian attests to the fact that the governors acted beyond the orders they had received, aware of Julian’s hostility towards Christianity.82 However, Socrates casts a shadow over his behaviour by writing – just before his account of the Meros facts – that the emperor urged Christians to endure the evils that had befallen them, in accordance with divine commandments (III.14.8). The fact remains that only the torturing of the confessor Theodore is explicitly presented as the outcome of Julian’s orders. In the seventh book, too, it is evident that Socrates regards the torturing of Theodore as the worst act that can be attributed to Julian. In wishing to praise Emperor Theodosius II’s virtues of goodness, clemency, and self-restraint, the historian sets him precisely in contrast with the negative model of the Apostate: an inconsistent philosopher whose cruelty and anger he illustrates through

56  The blood of innocents the example of the tortures inflicted on Theodore, given the absence of more serious incidents (VII.22.7–8).83 Compared to Socrates, Sozomen (V.7–11) provides a more extensive list of victims of the pagan reaction under Julian: George of Cappadocia, Theodoret the presbyter from Antioch, Eusebius, Nestabius and Zeno of Gaza, the virgins of Heliopolis, Mark of Arethusa, Macedonius, Theodoulos and Tatian in Phrygia, Busiris, Basil, and Eupsychius. However, as with Socrates, for Sozomen the only measure ordered by Julian against a Christian is the torturing of the confessor Theodore (Sozomen V.20.1–4). According to the historian, Julian considered that paganism would be more advanced by a personal and unexpected exhibition of patience and mildness towards Christians. […] Zealously pursuing this goal, Julian recalled from exile all Christians who, during the reign of Constantius, had been banished on account of their religious sentiments. (V.4–5)84 Compared to Socrates, however, Sozomen provides more information apparently drawn from martyrs’ passions. The first piece of information, which is cautiously introduced by “it is said”, concerns presbyter Theodoret of Antioch, who is initially (V.8.1) portrayed as the only priest who did not flee from the Syrian city in a representation typical of epic passions, since the martyr faces persecution alone.85 The report on the saints Eusebius, Nestabus, and Zeno of Gaza (in V.9) may even derive from a family tradition, since the historian’s family originally hailed from Gaza, while the reports in the subsequent section, on the events at Heliopolis and Arethusa (V.10.5–14), add little new information compared to Gregory of Nazianzus’ account. In Chapter 11, Sozomen provides summaries of different martyrs’ passions. That of Macedonius, Theodoulos, and Tatian of Meros in Phrygia was known to Sozomen (V.11.1–3), indirectly, from Socrates, while the account about the confessor Busiris, introduced by “they say” (V.11.4–6) and those about the martyrs Basil of Ancyra and Eupsychius of Caesarea (V.11.7–11)86 would appear to have been known to him from oral sources or passions that were already circulating at the time.87 At the end of this list, Sozomen significantly observes that “even if these cruelties were perpetrated contrary to the will of the emperor”, quite a few martyrs were created under him (V.11.12).88 In Sozomen’s work, therefore, the emperor does not yet appear as a persecutor: indeed, many Christians are killed against his will. However, the list of martyrs under Julian is more extensive than the one provided by Socrates. Therefore, Sozomen’s work constitutes an important step in the process of the formation of the black legend of Julian as a persecutor.89 Significantly, when it comes to Julian’s death, the earliest information on what was later to become the legend of St Mercury, the Apostate’s miraculous killer (see Chapter VI), comes from Sozomen

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(VI.2.3–5). Yet, paradoxically, compared to Socrates and Theodoret, Sozomen displays less hostility towards Julian. His praise of Christianity as the divine religion is actually associated with a demonstration of the fact that even its most cunning enemies, such as Julian, are powerless and destined to failure.91 The third Orthodox historian, Bishop Theodoret of Cyrrhus, presents certain peculiarities compared to the other two, who were laymen from Constantinople: a native of Syria, in his Ecclesiastical History (CHAP 456) he is keen to affirm the Patriachate of Antioch’s centrality. This Antiochene perspective also emerges from the attention that Theodoret pays to the martyrs under Julian, who chiefly come from Antioch or the area of Syria and Palestine.92 Theodoret (III.7) recalls the events at Ascalon and Gaza, the death of Cyril of Heliopolis, and the torturing of Mark of Arethusa (episodes already recounted by Gregory of Nazianzus); only the mention of the passion of Aemilianus of Durostorum (III.7.5) bears witness to Theodoret’s interest in events that occurred outside the region of Syria and Palestine. Also noteworthy is the fact that Julian emerges as the culprit here: Theodoret only mentions him in relation to Mark of Arethusa (III.7.6), but rules out any direct responsibility on the emperor’s part.93 In the first part of the section about Julian’s reign, the people responsible for anti-Christian actions are described as “Hellenes”, who were motivated by an awareness of the fact that the emperor sought to restore paganism. However, only after the flight of Athanasius – whom Julian wanted dead, according to Theodoret (III.9.2)94 – does the Apostate’s wickedness clearly emerge. Other passages on martyrs and confessors sub Iuliano (III.11–15) include episodes already mentioned by previous authors, such as the one related to the confessor Theodore (III.11), the execution of Juventinus and Maximinus (III.15), and the confession of faith made by Christian soldiers who unwittingly performed sacrifices to the pagan gods (III.17). But we also find some significant differences and novelties. For example, with regard to the profanation of the great church at Antioch, Theodoret is the only author to explicitly state that the church at the time was in the hands of the Homoeans (described as “Arians”)95 and that the Homoean bishop opposed its desecration (III.12.1). This acknowledgement, along with the mention of Arthemius’ death (III.18.1), confirms that the Orthodox no longer regarded the appropriation of originally heretical traditions as dangerous, since the Arian controversy had been superseded by new Christological struggles.96 Theodoret stresses that the torturing of the confessor Theodore and the execution of Juventinus and Maximinus and of Arthemius were decisions taken directly by Julian (respectively, in III.11.1, III.15.7, and III.18.1). These confirm the historian’s interest in local episodes of confession of the Christian faith that occurred in Syria and are attested for the first time by Theodoret: these are the cases of the Christian son of an Antiochene pagan priest who sought refuge with Bishop Meletius, the protagonist of the schism within ­ omanus, who resented being pardoned Orthodoxy (III.14);97 of the soldier R

58  The blood of innocents at the very last minute after receiving a death sentence (III.17.6–8); of Publia (III.19);98 and of the Christian notable from Berea (III.22).99 According to Theodoret, Julian’s death was prophesied to Libanius by an Antiochene schoolteacher and to some intimates by the Syrian hermit Julian Sabas (III.23–24). Up until this point in Theodoret’s narrative, Julian is explicitly mentioned as being responsible only for the martyrdoms of Juventinus and Maximinus and Arthemius. Theodoret does not hide the fact that the former two were officially sentenced for lese-majesty, and Arthemius for the destruction of idols. Theodoret presents all other cases of martyrdom without any explicit reference to the emperor’s will: indeed, in relation to Romanus and the decurion from Berea he even mentions Julian’s moderation (albeit with a polemical tone). Only after recounting the emperor’s death does Theodoret report the rumours about Julian’s human sacrifice in Carrhae100 and about the bodies discovered in Antioch (III.26–27), amplifying Gregory’s account in the first invective (or. 4.92.1–4) and foreshadowing the tendency of many later Greek hagiographical works to portray the Apostate as a violent and bloodthirsty persecutor. Moreover, Theodoret presents Julian as a tyrannos (III.11.1, 16.6, 28.3 and IV.1.3), a term appropriate for a usurper, but not for a legitimate emperor.101 Generally speaking, then, Theodoret’s portrayal of Julian becomes even darker and closer to the subsequent developments in Byzantine hagiography. Theodoret (III.25.7) is also the first to attribute to the dying Julian the words “you have won, Galilaean”, which were to enjoy such wide circulation in later centuries. Socrates (III.19.1) and Sozomen (V.17.7) had already mentioned the plan to launch a wide-scale persecution after the Persian war, but in Theodoret (III.21.4) this plan for a wide-scale persecution is the logical outcome of a progressive descent into wickedness on the emperor’s part, parallel to the unveiling of his true character.102 Theodoret, however, notes that Julian sought to avoid the creation of Christian martyrs (III.17.8) and provides various examples of this.103 So while he describes Julian as someone who engages in human sacrifice and who is ready to unleash wide-scale persecution against Christianity, he is still aware of the difference between actual persecutions and the Apostate’s anti-Christian measures. This notion vanishes in several hagiographical texts, possibly already in Evagrius, the author of an Ecclesiastical History (CHAP 166) in the late 6th century. At the beginning of this work, Evagrius mentions the failure of Julian’s pagan restoration with the following words: “Julian’s impiety was drowned in the martyr’s blood”.104

IV.3 A saint invented for the glory of the Patriarchate of Constantinople In the 4th century, the polyglot Dorotheus of Tyre, who was destined to die as a martyr sub Iuliano when he had passed the ripe old age of 100,

The blood of innocents  59 reportedly wrote a Latin List of Bishops of Byzantium and of Disciples of Christ (CHAP 135 = BHG 152). In the 6th century, this text, according to which Constantinople could boast a more ancient apostolic tradition than Rome, is then claimed to have been translated into Greek by one Procopius and acknowledged as accurate by Pope John I during his personal visit to Constantinople in 525.105 This alleged translation is introduced by a short life of the saint (BHG 151), who is said to have fled to Odyssopolis in Thrace following the Apostate accession, and to have eventually been tortured and killed. The hagiographer notes, however, that “Julian did away with Christians not openly, but in secret, through his governors”.106 The emperor’s notoriety is thus used to cast the martyr (in this case, Dorotheus) in a noble light, and by extension also the work which he wrote to bear witness to the prerogatives of the Constantinopolitan See. The forger was aware of the official policy of toleration for Christianity proclaimed by Julian and probably devised the figure of Dorotheus of Tyre by drawing inspiration from some Dorotheuses familiar to him from various sources – for instance, the Antiochene presbyter mentioned by Eusebius of Caesarea in Historia ecclesiastica VII.32 as an erudite man who also knew Hebrew.107 According to Socrates (Historia ecclesiastica VII.6), an Arian bishop by the name of Dorotheus died at age 109 in 407. There was also a bishop Dorotheus of Tyre in the 5th century and, in the 6th, a jurist named Dorotheus was known for his translation of the Digest from Latin into Greek. This work circulated fairly widely and was known in Byzantium at least until the 10th century.108 Again in the 6th century, according to the Epitome Historiae Ecclesiasticae 481, an Alexandrian monk by the name of Dorotheus was banished on account of his opposition to Emperor Anastasius’ pro-Monophysite policy.109 The fame of one or more of these Dorotheuses110 may therefore have contributed to the invention111 of an erudite and polyglot martyr whose pitiful end added to the authoritativeness of his text on the superiority of the Constantinopolitan See. The forger, who carefully outlines this distinctive saint, also shows considerable originality in the way in which, against predominant stereotypes, he sketches – like Theodoret of Cyrrhus and Gregory of Nazianzus before him – a portrait of Julian as a cruel and hypocritical persecutor. The composition in question certainly dates from after 525112 and before the activity of the chronicler Theophanes in the early 9th century.113 The first mention of the saint in his chronicle occurs in the section devoted to Constantine’s reign (A. M. 5816), and the second one in the section about Julian’s reign (A. M. 5854).114 In the former case, Theophanes repeats – with a few variations and transpositions – the information found in the prologue to the list of the apostles’ successors (BHG 151), concocted in order to assert the prerogatives of the Constantinopolitan See. When Theophanes returns to Dorotheus in relation to Julian’s anti-Christian policy, he instead sums up what he had written about the saint. It is therefore evident that he

60  The blood of innocents chooses to describe Dorotheus’ personality when discussing Constantine’s reign because he is aware of the entry in the List that assigns the saint to Constantine’s epoch.115 No extensive life of Dorotheus has reached us, or ever existed,116 and the prologue to the List is the source of the entries found in synaxaries and menologia, which de facto add no new information. The life in the Imperial Menologion (BHG 2115) is the most extensive out of all the texts on Dorotheus to have reached us, but its lengthiness is derived from rhetorical flourishes, and the other texts do not differ significantly.117 The consistency of the information about the saint proves that these texts are all derived from a single, brief, and relatively late source.118 The latter cannot have been a life or passion written by an anonymous hagiographer (the kind of text that would undergo constant rewriting and variation). Rather, it must have been an entry found in a textually more stable piece of writing on account of its author’s prestige,119 precisely like the lists of apostles with which a new episode in the black legend of the Apostate is associated.

IV.4  Double perspectives from Antioch IV.4.1  Malalas and John, Antiochene chroniclers In the 6th century, the Antiochene John Malalas wrote a Chronicle (CHAP 241) which stands out from most Byzantine works of the same sort on account of its distinctive portrayal of Julian.120 The Apostate is viewed from an Antiochene perspective and is not judged too harshly, despite the mention of the death of several saints and of the legend of his miraculous, divinely ordained killing. Julian’s name is first mentioned (in II.4 and VII.15) in relation to Cyril of Alexandria’s polemic.121 The emperor is called basileus in both passages and in the second one also parabates, one of his typical epithets in the Byzantine Middle Ages. It is used for the first time by Malalas, if we consider only authors who can safely be dated.122 In the introduction to the Julian Section (XIII.18), after a brief physical and moral portrayal (the so-called somatopsychogramma), he also explains that the emperor is labeled parabates because “he renounced the belief of his ancestors, the Christian faith, and became a Hellene”.123 This explanation is not particularly polemical,124 compared to the number of negative epithets piled upon Julian by later Byzantine chroniclers.125 After his physical and moral portrayal, the chronicler offers a view of Julian’s reign influenced by the Antiochene perspective and by the narrative about the Persian war.126 Malalas recalls the friendship between Julian and Libanius, whose Antiochene identity is emphasised (XIII.18). After a first brief mention of Dometius’ martyrdom and of the emperor’s arrival in Antioch at the head of a mighty army, the author describes his sojourn in the city through a series of lively anecdotes (XIII.19): Julian performs a sacrifice to

The blood of innocents  61 Zeus Kasios and Apollo, in whose temple a fair-headed young man foretells the place of his death in a premonitory dream;127 abused by the Christian crowd led by Juventinus and Maximinus, the emperor sentences the two saints to death.128 When recounting the beginning of the Persian war, Malalas describes the unusual martyrdom of St Dometius, who is walled up alive after a dialogue held at a distance, in which the emperor learns about his desire to live as a hermit from a Christian referendarius (XIII.20). This passage seems to allude to what Bouffartigue describes as the twisted enjoyment that Julian derives from presenting his measures as a perfect application of Christian morals.129 However, this work does not present the picture of a violent and bloodthirsty persecutor of all Christians, in contrast to many hagiographical texts.130 The Persian war and Julian’s death, the only episodes which do not concern Syria, take up extensive space (XIII.21–25). They largely derive from a reliable late-antique source: Magnus of Carrhae’s History (CHAP 286).131 As far as the Apostate’s death is concerned, three versions of this event are mentioned. In the last, Basil the Great is presented as Julian’s friend and correspondent, confirming the uniqueness of Malalas’ portrayal:132 Basil, the most holy bishop of Caesarea in Cappadocia, saw in a dream the heavens opened and the Saviour Christ seated on a throne and saying loudly, “Mercurius, go and kill the emperor Julian, who is against the Christians.” St Mercurius, standing before the Lord, wore a gleaming iron breast-plate. Hearing the command, he disappeared, and then re-appeared, standing before the Lord, and cried out, “The emperor Julian has been fatally wounded and has died, as you commanded, Lord.” Frightened by the cry, bishop Basil woke up in confusion: for the emperor Julian held him in honour both as an eloquent man and as his fellow-student, and wrote to him frequently.133 Finally, Malalas mentions a fourth version, provided by Eutropius, a pagan chronicler who is the author of a Breviarium (CHAP 162). He describes this version as being in conflict with the previous ones,134 but does not report it (XIII.25).135 Malalas therefore devotes considerable space to Julian136 and seems most interested in retrieving and presenting all circulating accounts about the Apostate’s death,137 including legendary ones. He is the first Greek author known to us to feature Mercury as the Apostate’s slayer in relation to Basil’s vision.138 In creating a narrative seeking to highlight Christianity’s ultimate triumph, Malalas would appear to have carefully arranged the various available accounts, both historical and legendary: first the least fanciful version, attributed to Magnus of Carrhae, then that attributed to Eutychianus of Cappadocia (On Julian’s Persian War, CHAP 163), which also includes Julian’s cry to the Sun;139 finally, he juxtaposes this with the Christian version

62  The blood of innocents featuring Mercury. Malalas’ relationship with his sources, however, is difficult to pin down: out of the dozens of authors he quotes, many are only known to us through his quotations, and may never have existed at all.140 The investigations carried out so far, discerning as they may be, therefore cannot clear all doubts.141 It is nonetheless plausible that the chronicler could also rely on some oral sources, particularly as regards hagiographical information.142 In presenting events related to saints, Malalas displays certain general tendencies: the centrality of Antioch and hence of its saints, and the lack of intermediaries between the saints and their persecutor. For example, in Dometius’ case, the informers who in the Greek life (BHG 560) ask Julian to take action against the saint are not mentioned at all in Malalas’ text.143 In this, as in other cases, Malalas’ Julian is almost invariably seen to take direct action: he wages war on Persia and reaches Antioch en route; abused by the crowd, he orders the arrest and execution of the instigators; on his march to Persia, just after his exchange with Dometius, he orders the saint to be walled up alive. This attitude of Julian’s is consistent with the general tendencies in Malalas’ narrative, which, unlike Classical historiography, centres not on the protagonist but on the events described: less interest is shown in the protagonists’ feelings, emotions, and qualities. As though reverting to archaic modes of narration, Malalas presents the connection between feelings and actions as instantaneous and immediate.144 The Julian who unhesitatingly orders the execution of Juventinus and Maximinus and of Dometius perfectly fits this model, whereas the emperor who leads the Persian campaign diverges from it. Indeed, the narrative of the war is the only truly historical part of Malalas’ account of Julian. In this context, the chronicler does not present an impulsive emperor like the one described in the previous chapters, but rather a general who always seeks to act ­rationally – thus, according to a perspective drawn from a source favourable to Julian.145 Be that as it may, Malalas appears not to want to criticise the Apostate. This is confirmed by the last mention of him: the author recalls that the emperor’s statue in the harbour of Constantinople was pulled down and replaced with a cross in the year of Belisarius’ victory over the Vandals (XVIII.82), but in this case as well, no traces of an explicit polemic against Julian are to be found. A comparison with John Rufus, the author of Vita Petri Hiberi (CPG 7505) around the year 500, proves quite instructive in this respect: during Peter’s sojourn in Alexandria, a demon animated a statue of Julian, who chased the saint before being banished through a miracle.146 Instead of painting a ghostly, demoniac scene, Malalas merely notes that the statue of Julian “fell”, without explaining why.147 Unlike his accounts of other emperors, such as Diocletian and Domitian,148 Malalas does not mention any persecutions or mass slaughters; and Basil is presented as a friend and correspondent of Julian’s (according to a probably reliable tradition),149 so much so that the vision in which Mercurius foretells the Apostate’s death is received by Basil not with exultation, but with fear and sadness. Malalas

The blood of innocents  63 therefore presents Julian as an emperor who is friends with a distinguished bishop and employs Christian civil servants, such as the referendarius who transmits his messages to Dometius.150 The same ambiguous perspective is discernible in the fragments of a Chronological History (CHAP 243) written by a fellow citizen of Malalas, John of Antioch. The dating of his work is uncertain: Heraclius’ age according to Roberto, whereas Mariev pushes the date back by a century, like other scholars before him.151 In his edition of the fragments, Mariev chiefly relies on the Excerpta Constantiniana (an anthology compiled in the 10th century). Roberto also attributes to this author the fragments known as Excerpta Salmasiana II (CHAP 603),152 thus identifying the so-called “Constantinian” John with the so-called “Salmasian” one. John regards Constantius II’s envy of Julian’s military successes as the reason why the latter was appointed Augustus in 360 (fragment 264 Roberto = 203 Mariev). The tone is favourable to Julian, although at the beginning of the fragment the latter is called parabates (but this epithet may have been transposed from the compilers of the Excerpta Constantiniana). The pagan historians whose works have reached us and whose overall attitude is somewhat comparable to that of John of Antioch are Ammianus Marcellinus (XX.4–XXI.15) and Zosimus (III.8.3–10.2), whom Roberto presents as John’s source, along with Eutropius.153 The so-called Leoquelle, a late-antique pagan source used by several Byzantine authors, instead displays a more nuanced or neutral attitude, which in certain respects is not as favourable to Julian.154 Either the direct or the indirect source of the Constantinian John might therefore be a pagan author other than the Leoquelle, for instance Eunapius,155 who is known for his polemic against Constantius II and in favour of Julian.156 In another fragment (271 Roberto = 204 Mariev), preserved by Socrates, we find the chronicler’s most negative verdict on Julian: Julian, who hated God and hated Christ, […] extended his patronage to those who were engaged in literary activities, especially to professional philosophers. While he was engaged in these matters, the provincial governors who wanted to seize the property of the Christians subjected many of them to punishments. Julian, who in the beginning was mild towards [all] those who approached him, did not then maintain this disposition, but started to overlook many of the actions committed by those who made an appearance to be pagan. […] he collected immense sums from the Christians.157 In this case, too, one wonders whether the verdict comes from John himself or from the person who transcribed the passage into the Excerpta, thereby preserving it. John does not explicitly mention any martyrs, and there is only one mention (from Socrates III.14.7) of provincial governors inflicting punishments on many Christians,158 in order to seize their wealth. On the other hand, John records the banishing of Christians from schools and the

64  The blood of innocents imperial guard, the confiscation of their property in Antioch, and the praetorian prefect’s intervention to placate Julian’s anger against the citizens of Antioch.159 In the subsequent fragment (272 Roberto = 205 Mariev), John’s source is a Greek translation of Eutropius’ Breviarium (X.16.2–3).160 The verdict is a very favourable one: he [would have] governed the Roman empire well and set it in order, had the demonic [power] not effected the opposite; he was highly accomplished in all the learning of the Romans, and especially in the Greek language; he was very intelligent in apprehending what had to be done, and quite ready to proclaim and explain it; he had a tenacious memory of everything, was wise in the matter of gods, and mindful of the affairs of men. According to John, the provincial governors’ anti-Christian measures were taken against Julian’s will, and no cruel or savage actions are attributed to the emperor.161 Another fragment (273 Roberto = 206 Mariev) confirms that John of Antioch does not hesitate to report information favourable to Julian and unfavourable to his successor: Jovian is harshly criticised, not just for his peace treaty with the Persians but also for the burning down of a library that the Apostate had established in the temple of Trajan in Antioch. In this case, the source is partly Eutropius (X.17.1 and X.18.2), although the information about the destruction of the library may have been drawn from Eunapius.162 The polemic against Jovian’s obscurantism is comparable to that which Jovian engages in – in Lives of the Philosophers and Sophists VI – against the destruction of the Serapeum in Alexandria, which, like the temple of Trajan in Antioch, was furnished with a library. Julian makes his last appearance in a passage preserved by Socrates (VII.22.7–8): Theodosius II’s virtues of goodness, clemency, and self-control are set in contrast to the defects displayed by Julian, an inconsistent philosopher who in Antioch proved willing to torture protesters.163 Compared to Socrates, John does not mention the victim’s name (the confessor Theodore), thus possibly giving the reader the impression that Julian had several people tortured. However, as already noted, John had previously stated that no cruel or bloodthirsty action can be attributed to Julian.164 John of Antioch therefore contradicts himself by copying various conflicting sources. This inconsistency within the work has been noted and justified by Roberto: in his view, it is due to the author’s aspiration for historical objectivity, in the name of which he provides different versions of the same event or different portrayals of the same person.165 However, given the fragmentary state in which the work has reached us, it is impossible to ascertain whether John of Antioch is juxtaposing different reports without worrying about contradictions,166 or whether, on the contrary, he is providing an original take on his sources, based on a secular and non-providentialistic interpretation of history, as

The blood of innocents  65 someone who appreciates the figure of Julian – partly in the footsteps of the secular, pagan author Eutropius.167 According to Roberto’s suggested reconstruction, to the passages considered so far we should add the one known from the so-called Excerpta Salmasiana, which are believed to preserve fragments of an epitome of John of Antioch’s work composed in Constantinople between the 7th and the 11th centuries.168 In these fragments (263 and 267–270 Roberto), alongside praise for the Apostate’s exemplary virtues (fr. 268 and 269), we find the description of visions and prophecies steeped in a clearly pagan, yet not explicitly anti-Christian, cultural atmosphere (fr. 263, 267, and 270). Fragments 263 and 269 concern episodes also recounted by Ammianus XV.8.17 and XVIII.1.4.169 By contrast, the content of fragment 270 – also known from Symeon Logothete’s Chronicon 91.1, from Kedrenos, and from Zonaras XIII.14 – concerns a contemptuous and prophetic utterance by Julian after Jovian accidentally treads on his cloak: “Oh! If at least it were a man!” Fragments 267 (on a vision experienced by some of Julian’s friends) and 268 (on the emperor’s exemplary behaviour towards a one-eyed priest at Tarsus), which find no parallel in other sources, confirm the consistently pro-Julian attitude of the Salmasian John. According to Roberto, for fragments 267, 268, and 270 – in addition to the translation of Ammianus – John drew upon a source providing various anecdotes about Julian as a pagan intellectual and emperor, without any polemical overtones.170 This source could be the second edition of Eunapius’ historical work (devoid of explicit attacks on Christianity).171 When portraying pagan “saints” in his Lives of the Philosophers and Sophists, Eunapius would appear to believe that paganism can only survive through religious moderatism.172 The Julian of these fragments is reminiscent of these pagans: he is a just pagan who, from his very appointment as Caesar, is somewhat sceptical of the possibility of effective action in this world and ready to accept destiny’s chance to appoint the Christian Jovian as his weak and inept successor.173 Alternatively, the Salmasian John of Antioch may have used the Leoquelle, which according to Bleckmann cannot be traced back to Eunapius and which, in addition to a keen interest in political history, also features anecdotal material now and then.174 Be that as it may, although the authorship of the Salmasian John’s fragments remains uncertain, there is no doubt that in Byzantium the extracts attributed to John of Antioch lent a voice to a perspective not entirely hostile to Julian – and at times even favourable to him – alongside the dominant hostile one.175 IV.4.2  An accidental executioner in the passion of Theodoret Julian seized the church in Antioch after the temple of Apollo was burned down. Theodoret (H.E. III.11.4–12) is the only sources to state that the church was in the hands of the Arians and that their bishop, Euzoius, put up

66  The blood of innocents some resistance. This tradition clearly derives from the Homoean source,176 but according to Sozomen (V.8.1) Euzoius fled and the presbyter Theodoret opposed the seizing of the church.177 Along with comes Julian, the presbyter is the protagonist of a Greek passion attested in two redactions: BHG 2424z (only known through a fragment)178 and 2425. In passion BHG 2425, a lengthy introduction draws an opposition – ­analogous to the one we find at the beginning of the Metaphrastean passion of Manuel, Sabel, and Ishmael (see Chapter V) – between Julian, who was born a Christian yet is an enemy of Christianity (and is therefore described as “worthy of being spat upon” and unworthy of mercy), and the previous persecutors, who had been born into the pagan tradition and hence had their reasons for acting in a certain way.179 Right from the start, the focus is on Antioch: according to the hagiographer, it was the Bishop of Antioch who saved Julian from the palace massacre of 337 (according to Gregory of Nazianzus, in or. 4.91, the saviour was instead Mark of Arethusa). Furthermore, to make Julian’s apostasy seem even more shameful, the author recalls his study of the Bible.180 After rising to power, Julian adopts a shrewd policy devoid of explicit acts of violence and designed to win over as many Christians as possible through promises of riches and public offices.181 The hagiographer then presents Theodoret’s antagonist: the emperor’s uncle of the same name, comes Julian, who, after leading the emperor on the path of apostasy and being appointed governor of Antioch, strips the local church of its riches. All the priests flee except Theodoret, who remains in the city to give comfort to the faithful. After variously torturing and questioning Theodoret, the comes plans to have him killed in secret to avoid providing another martyr for Christians to venerate – in accordance with the policy no doubt favoured by the Apostate.182 However, this is not how the account ends. After having second thoughts, inspired by God, comes Julian decides to debate the saint in public. The hagiographer describes this lengthy debate according to the pattern of epic passions, including torments, insults, and a miracle.183 Finally sentenced to death by comes Julian,184 Theodoret prophesies the two Julians’ swiftly approaching demise: he says that the emperor will die on foreign soil, pierced by an arrow.185 After the saint’s beheading, comes Julian hastens to inform his nephew that he has seized the local church’s property and ordered Theodoret’s torturing and decapitation. The emperor reproaches him and foretells – in this hagiographical text – the popularity which the genre of hagiography will enjoy: When they are killed, the Galilaeans offer those who call them martyrs – rather than criminals (which is what they actually are) and enemies of everyone’s well-being – the opportunity to compose lengthy books of praise for them; and me the opportunity to endure countless absurd jeers, and to be called a bloodthirsty tyrant and an utter source of ruin for their saints. Why, should I prefer to be an object of mockery and a laughing-stock for future generations, than to let the impious Christians live, but to use every pretext to destroy their religion?186

The blood of innocents  67 After comes Julian’s death from a terrible stomach disease, the emperor also dies during the Persian war under obscure circumstances, when he is struck in the stomach by a weapon – an obvious reference to his uncle’s fate.187 However, just before this event, the author describes a vision Julian has: the emperor hears the sound of war chariots and thus orders his men to attack the mysterious army. The hagiographer regards this as a sign of divine intervention.188 The vision (or rather auditory perception) of the heavenly host, which Julian seeks to fight with an army on the ground, bears witness to the circulation of the legend about the Apostate’s miraculous death. Just after hearing this sound, Julian is hit by a mysterious arrow and sprays his own blood towards the sky with the words: “Have your fill, Nazarene, you have won”.189 A similar account of Julian’s death is apparently found in Philostorgius (VII.15).190 This analogy may be one of the clues as to the origin of the passion of Theodoret in non-Orthodox milieus.191 Besides, the saint is also accused of having destroyed statues and altars of the gods in the Constantinian era.192 Acts of anti-pagan defiance performed at the time of Constantius II, and therefore under the protection of the State, are the most evident characteristic of the saints venerated in the Homoean tradition: the actions attributed to Theodoret are consistent with this,193 and the substitution of Constantius II’s name by Constantine’s would appear to mark the beginning of an Orthodox rewriting of an original Homoean redaction, now lost.194 Other aspects of the passion (tortures, violent verbal exchanges, and miracles, including the conversion of the executioners obeying the persecutors and the latters’ miraculous deaths) also point to a rewriting of the text in accordance with the stereotypes of epic passions, in which the antagonist’s role is played by the emperor’s uncle of the same name, who for most of the passion remains in the background. While the accusation of having destroyed pagan temples levelled against Theodoret coincides with the charges directed against martyrs sub Iuliano in the Homoean tradition, in another passage of the passion the saint is sentenced as a martyr of the Christian faith, rather than as a violator of pagan places of worship.195 We therefore find two different reasons for the saint’s death. Likewise, the passion presents the anti-Christian reaction during Julian’s reign according to two different perspectives: the hagiographer stresses the divergence between the anti-Christian policy of the comes (a violent and relentless persecutor) and that of the Apostate, who instead wishes to avoid a persecution and hence rebukes his uncle.196 The passion therefore emerges as a fanciful fusion of different elements, so much so that it has been regarded as comprising elements drawn from the tradition about the confessor Theodore.197 The saint is cast in the role of the hero of an epic passion, a figure ennobled through debates, tortures, and miracles within a literary construction that departs from the ancient martyrdom model employed by Sozomen.198 Another addition compared to the early account known to Sozomen (in which the saint is the custodian of the church in Antioch’s treasure) might be the description of the deaths of the two persecutors, uncle and nephew.199 More specifically as regards

68  The blood of innocents the latter’s death, the hagiographer draws upon legendary traditions that are widely echoed by texts produced in the same area – and probably in the same years – such as the so-called Syriac romance (on which see Chapter VI). At the same time, he is aware of the emperor’s desire to avoid creating martyrs, and hence resorts to the figure of Julian’s uncle, who is assigned the role of the saint’s antagonist according to the epic passion model. Julian is a cunning enemy, aware of the importance of hagiographical literature as a means to celebrate Christianity’s triumph, and therefore committed to preventing the creation of new martyrs. However, he lacks collaborators capable of following his peculiar strategy in a resolute and consistent way. The hagiographer also mentions Julian’s extensive knowledge of the Bible, probably referring to the Contra Galilaeos, known to us via Cyril’s refutation.200 These are defining features of the Apostate, partly deriving from the original Homoean tradition, which – as the Paschal Chronicle seems to prove – acknowledged the skilfulness behind Julian’s anti-Christian policy. These elements apparently remained unchanged within a passion that nonetheless borrowed many other elements from epic passions and from legends about the Apostate’s death, including that of the divine vengeance that determined his demise, forcing the chagrined emperor to acknowledge his defeat. The hagiographer emphasises this uniqueness of Julian among all the various enemies of Christianity, both at the beginning and at the end of his passion. At the beginning he writes that it is universally known that “no one has ever attained the apex of atheism as much as the abominable Julian”, who “was called the transgressor (parabates) on account of his having betrayed the principles of the Christian faith”, before also earning the label of apostate.201 Like Malalas, the passion of Theodoret, which is clearly of Antiochene origin, thus seems to confirm the idea that the epithet parabates originated in Antioch. The two Antiochene authors (i.e. Malalas and Theodoret’s hagiographer), who apparently were among the first writers to use this term, explain its meaning as though it had been newly introduced, just as it is explained in another two late-antique hagiographical texts from the same area: the life of Dometius BHG 560202 and the Syriac life of Eusebius of Samosata BHO 294, the translation of a late-antique Greek text.203 Julian’s two classic epithets in Byzantium (parabates and apostates), both used at the beginning of the passion, are omitted towards the end, where – before moving on to a description of Julian’s death in Persia – the hagiographer states that he struggles to find a suitable epithet for the emperor, on account of his exceptional impiety.204 Earlier on he describes him as “the most impious of all men”,205 in both cases echoing a concept already to be found in Gregory of Nazianzus’ first invective.206 The hagiographer’s attention to the peculiarities of the emperor’s anti-Christian policy is thus quite evident. The polemic against the Bible, the use of the term “Galilaeans”,207 the desire not to create any martyrs, and the eagerness to pursue an anti-­ Christian policy despite any possible opposition are all hallmarks of Julian

The blood of innocents  69 that remain unchanged in a text which also features certain elements typical of epic passions. The Julian of the passion of Theodoret is therefore one of the most remarkable in Greek historiography. He differs sharply from the figure of an emperor devoid of any individual traits that we find in many epic passions. Theodoret’s hagiographer combines a polemical attack on the Apostate, regarded as the worst enemy of Christianity, with an acknowledgment of his anti-Christian policy’s uniqueness, opposed to any openly professed and violent persecution.

IV.5 Echoes of the Homoean source and of legends in the Paschal Chronicle The Paschal Chronicle was written in Constantinople in the second half of Heraclius’ reign by an author from the Patriarchate’s milieu. When dealing with Julian’s years, it combines information from Malalas with material derived from the Homoean source. Paradoxically, therefore, an author close to the Patriarch of Constantinople was responsible for unconsciously ­preserving – after two and a half centuries – a heretical tradition. Alongside the Julian of the Homoean source, the anonymous chronicler derives a legendary one from Malalas through the selection of two specific episodes: Dometius’ death, the only real martyrdom recounted by the Antiochene chronicler (since he describes Juventinus and Maximinus’ execution as the outcome of a trial for lese-majesty) and the Apostate’s miraculous death at Mercurius’ hands.208 By contrast, the Paschal Chronicle does not present some of the elements favourable to the Apostate which we find in Malalas, although it repeats the information about the friendship between the emperor and Basil the Great. Information is more frequently drawn from the Homoean source: after specifying the duration of Julian’s reign (two years) and referring to him as parabates,209 the chronicler follows the source in question by reporting that when the new emperor entered Constantinople, “the peace of the churches was severed”, since Julian “made manifest his own apostasy and impiety by sending out edicts against Christianity throughout the whole world, and commanded that all the idols be restored”.210 The list of martyrs deriving from the Homoean source (and provided with reference to the first year of Julian’s reign) is preceded by the statement that the people responsible were pagans inspired by the restoration edict, rather than the Apostate himself. The latter is presented as a cunning enemy skilled in exploiting Christian infighting.211 This description, once again borrowed from the Homoean source, and the mention of the friendship between Julian and Basil, make the Paschal Chronicle most interesting as a witness to a very peculiar representation of the Apostate which survived through the almost mechanical copying of previous authors.

70  The blood of innocents

IV.6 Towards the triumph of the black legend: the Epitome of ecclesiastical histories Theodorus Lector, active in the 6th century, wrote a Historia Tripartita or Ecclesiastical History (CHAP 451) which, for Julian’s reign, draws upon Socrates, Sozomen, and Theodoret of Cyrrhus.212 This work, only the first two books of which have reached us in full (covering the period up to the year 361), can partly be reconstructed thanks solely to an Epitome of Ecclesiastical Histories (CHAP 493)213 that was completed between 610 and 615.214 Interestingly, Epitome 117 provides a succinct presentation of Julian’s career as a vanquisher of barbarians, usurper, and finally, apostate.215 The source is a passage from Sozomen (V.1.1) featured in the second book of the Historia Tripartita, which does not discuss Julian’s apostasy, however. The only comparison we can draw with Theodorus Lector’s text therefore suggests that the epitomiser added the information about Julian’s apostasy to that concerning his victories over the barbarians and usurpation, as though seeking to associate the label of apostate with that of usurper – when in fact Julian only openly rejected Christianity late in 361, after Constantius II’s death, as described at the end of the second book of the Historia Tripartita.216 At the beginning of the third book, before the outline of Julian’s religious policy, a brief overview of his life as a private citizen was provided. It is interesting to note what remains, in the Epitome, of the various pieces of information about Julian’s adolescence and youth found in the writings of the three ecclesiastical historians of the 5th century. Following a very succinct discussion of the Apostate’s genealogy (Epitome 118) and a mention of the palace massacre of 337, in which he was spared on account of his young age (Epitome 119),217 the epitomiser recounts that Julian was educated in Cappadocia together with his brother Gallus. Immediately afterwards, he adds that Julian pretended to be a monk, became a lector together with his brother, and began to build a church, which however was destined to ­collapse – according to a tradition already known to Gregory of Nazianzus (or. 4.25–26).218 Therefore, not only does the epitomiser omit a lot of information about the young Julian’s life prior to his proclamation as Caesar in 355, but the chronological order of the events is also radically changed in comparison to the 5th-century sources. Indeed, nothing of the sort can be gleaned from Socrates (III.1), Sozomen (V.2), and Theodoret (H.E. III.2).219 The young Julian’s development is therefore reduced to the sequence monklector-failed church-builder, without any trace of Socrates’ lengthy excursus (III.1) about Julian’s youth and his studies. This radical change may simply be due to inattentiveness on the part of Theodorus Lector or the epitomiser, or both;220 alternatively, as later passages would seem to suggest, it may be due to a conscious process of distortion, a further step on the path towards an increasingly radical condemnation of Julian. The description of the religious restoration policy begins in Epitome 122, and the epitomiser paints an increasingly gloomy picture of Julian: before

The blood of innocents  71 the mention of the “demons” (daimones) driving the Apostate, we read that, when appointed sole emperor, he “unabashedly switched to paganism and washed away holy baptism with the blood of sacrifices”.221 The editor of the Epitome mentions Sozomen (V.2.1–2) as a source.222 However, Sozomen makes no mention of daimones driving Julian, not even in the passage (V.2.5– 6) recounting the episode of Julian’s initiation into the pagan mysteries. By contrast, in his first invective (or. 4.55–56) Gregory of Nazianzus presents the same episode with plenty of explicit references to daimones.223 Even Theodoret, when recounting this episode (H.E. III.3.2), reports that Julian’s escort called upon demons,224 but it is likely that the epitomiser (or Theodore) was chiefly influenced by Gregory in the decision to darken Julian’s portrayal. The first invective is explicitly quoted several times in the Julian section of the Epitome;225 besides, Gregory also mentions demons guiding the Apostate in the funerary oration for his father (or. 18.22).226 In Chapter 127 we instead find what appears to be the only exception to the tendency to darken Julian’s portrayal. The episode of the latter’s clash with Bishop Maris ends with the remark that the emperor endured the insults thrown at him “like a philosopher”.227 The source of this episode is Sozomen (V.4.8), according to whom Julian feigned meekness to show himself in a good light. By contrast, Socrates (III.12.4) does not explain Julian’s silence after the bitter exchange with Maris (as though to suggest that the bishop won the dialectic battle). In this case, out of the various available versions, preference is assigned to the one that explains Julian’s behaviour in non-negative terms. The rest of the Epitome instead progressively exacerbates the Apostate’s negative traits, although at first no violent measures are recalled.228 In Epitome 135, with regard to the attempt to organise a pagan ‘counter-Church’, the pagan priest Arsacius is mentioned as the addressee of a letter by Julian that “strikes readers on account of its great wickedness”.229 Sozomen, who quotes it in full, does not voice an opinion of this sort; hence, the Epitome passage in question represents yet another example of how Julian’s portrait grows increasingly gloomy.230 Epitome 140 marks the beginning of the description of Julian’s sojourn in Antioch. The text recalls the Misopogon, and the torture inflicted on the young Theodore after the Christian protests that followed the removal of St Babylas’ relics from the suburb of Daphne. The source for this chapter is Socrates (III.17–19), but – significantly – in the Epitome of the Historia Tripartita we find no trace of Socrates’ positive verdict (III.17.9) about the Misopogon’s literary worth as a work destined to leave a lasting mark on the city of Antioch. According to Epitome 141, the emperor demolished the sanctuary which his brother Gallus had built in honour of Babylas,231 a piece of information not provided by Sozomen, Socrates, or Theodoret.232 Therefore, alongside the omissions about the literary worth of the Misopogon in Chapter 140, we find the mention of the destruction of a Christian church,233 possibly deriving – through a process of e­ xaggeration – from the account of the closing down of the great church in Antioch, ordered by Julian after the burning down of Apollo’s temple at Daphne.234

72  The blood of innocents Up until this point, the predominant sources are Socrates and Sozomeno, but in the last chapters of the Julian section, Theodoret’s influence is also detectible.235 Most significantly, the personal judgement of Theodorus Lector or of the compiler of the Epitome seems to creep into the narrative, since the negative assessment of Julian becomes more prominent. Epitome 147 reports the threats which the emperor allegedly uttered upon embarking on the Persian campaign.236 The source is Sozomen (VI.2.9),237 although similar concepts are also expressed by other authors, such as Gregory and Theodoret.238 The epitomiser (or Theodorus Lector), though, adds the harsh verdict that Julian’s death is only a foretaste of the divine punishment he is destined to suffer in return for his wicked deeds.239 This providential view of Julian’s death is confirmed in Epitome 148, which derives from Sozomen (VI.2.6–8) and Theodoret (H.E. III.24): it mentions Didymus of Alexandria and Julian Sabas’ prophetic visions. The next chapter also describes a divine intervention: “Many different manifestations of divine wrath struck the Romans’ lands at the time in which Julian was emperor”.240 An exemplary conclusion of the Julian section, Epitome 150 (following Theodoret H.E. III.26–27), describes the sacrifice of a woman which Julian performed at Carrhae and the discovery of bodies in Antioch.241 This conclusion is highly significant, marked as it is by a providential intervention which leads to the Apostate’s death, by divine wrath punishing the whole empire, and by the discovery of human sacrifices. Although the text does not feature the kind of lists of martyrs we find in Sozomen and Theodoret, it does not repeat what Socrates and especially Sozomen write about the emperor’s explicit desire not to come across as a violent persecutor.242 While not expressly presented as a persecutor, the Julian of the Epitome Historiae Ecclesiasticae is steeped in an atmosphere of slaughter and divine wrath. The balance drawn by Theodorus Lector or by the anonymous epitomiser, which is very close to that of Theodoret of Cyrrhus, was destined to enjoy considerable popularity among subsequent authors.

Notes 1 See the list in Van Nuffelen (2020, 383–392). 2 “After dragging some virgins through the city […], torturing them, and chopping them up […], some horribly devoured them with their own teeth and fed on the raw innards in a way worthy of their diabolical frenzy […], others poured slop on the still throbbing innards, and by releasing the fiercest hogs, set up the following spectacle: to see flesh mixed with fodder and torn, a mingling of foods hitherto unseen and unheard of!” (Bernardi 1983, 218 and 220; English translation from the Italian). 3 Bernardi (1983, 216). 4 Mossay (1980, 142 and 154). On Julian’s reaction to George’s death, see Caltabiano (1985, 17–59) and Teitler (2017, 39–40). 5 Gregory employs aposiopesis and apophasis formulas in or. 4.92.2–3 (Bernardi 1983, 230) to justify the lack of precise references. 6 Or. 4.92 (Bernardi 1983, 232). Gregory’s reticence in this case may be due to the conflicts that broke out within the Christian community in Caesarea in 362,

The blood of innocents  73 when – according to the reconstruction provided by Fatti (2009a, 259–263) – the Apostate sided with the faction led by the future Saint Basil (Métivier 2005, 394–396, interprets the friction between Caesarea and Julia in different terms). 7 See Teitler (2017, 53–55). 8 According to Gregory, this was a genuine persecution (or. 4.61 and 4.93) in which the emperor left the violent repression of Christianity up to the crowd (or. 4.61), so as to keep up a facade of philanthropy and clemency (or. 4.62, 4.79 and 4.84). 9 See Historia Acephala 2.8–9 (Martin 1985, 148), the work of a cleric who was a follower of Athanasius’ (see Martin 1985, 20 and 34). 10 Bouffartigue (1998, 79) infers that Julian was not present when popular outbursts of anti-Christian violence occurred and was actually ready to grant the requests for mercy submitted on Christians’ behalf. 11 Bernardi (1983, 296). 12 See Lugaresi (1997, 70–71 and 201). 13 See Brennecke (1988, 93–94), Barnes (1993, 8), and Brennecke (2004, 102–104). Traces of the use of this Chronicle are to be found in the writings of the Anomoean Philostorgius and of several late-antique and medieval Orthodox writers such as Zonaras, Theophanes, Theophylact of Ohrid, and Nikephoros Kallistos (see Brennecke 1988, 94 and 2011, 110–113). According to Brennecke (1997, 226–250 and 2011, 108) even Ammianus Marcellinus was acquainted with and used this Homoean source, which according to Winkelmann 2000, 408 was a continuation of Eusebius’ Chronicon. According to Mardirossian (2010, 39–41), the author is Euzoius, the Homoean Bishop of Antioch. 14 PG 92, 740–745. 15 PG 92, 740. 16 PG 92, 741BC (=Whitby 1989, 38). See Brennecke (1988, 97). For the Orthodox, Julian’s rise to power instead marked the end of Constantius II’s persecution, as witnessed by the Index to Athanasius’ Epistolae Festales (see cap. 1). 17 PG 92, 740B. 18 See Brennecke (1988, 116). 19 Brennecke (1988, 120) sees this as evidence that the tradition about profanation originated in a Homoean milieu. 20 PG 92, 740B. 21 In the edition of Theophanes (De Boor 1883, 47), we read “St Patrophilus”, but Brennecke (1988, 120–121 n. 35) remarks that De Boor follows codex Paris. Reg. 1711, against the rest of the manuscript tradition, where “saint” is lacking. Therefore, according to Brennecke this is a “bewußte Korrektur des Theophanes an seiner homöischen Quelle”, followed by Nikephoros Kallistos, who also censors the word “bishop” (PG 146, 476). 22 See Brennecke (1988, 121). 23 According to Brennecke (1988, 123), Cyril probably belonged to the Homoean milieu within the city of Heliopolis, in which paganism was still strong and Christianity had only been introduced under Constantine. 24 See Brennecke (1988, 123). 25 See Brennecke (1988, 124). 26 Brennecke (1988, 126) compares Socrates III.13.4 and IV.1.8 (Valentinian, Valens, and Jovian as confessors) with the negative portrayal of the Homoean Valens traced by Socrates in book 4, inferring that the Homoean source also mentioned Jovian and Valens as confessors. Sozomen VI.6.3 only mentions Valentinian as a confessor sub Iuliano, consciously correcting Socrates. Even Theodoret in H.E. III.16, Philostorgius VII.7, and Zonaras XIII.15 refer only to Valentinian as a confessor, whereas Theophanes (De Boor 1883, 51) and Theophylact, Archbishop of Ohrid (in Passio Martyrum XV Tiberiopoli 10 in Kiapidou 2015, 82) also mention Jovian and Valentinian as confessors. According to

74  The blood of innocents Brennecke, Socrates alone preserves the original Homoean version (Brennecke 1988, 127 n. 65 and Lenski 2002, 253–276 are sceptical about this tradition’s reliability). 27 Brennecke (1988, 128–131). 28 Brennecke (1988, 131). 29 PG 92, 745AB. The list of martyrs in the Homoean source ended with Aemilianus (see Brennecke 1988, 131). 30 On the cortege accompanying Babylas’ body: Theodoret H.E. III.10.3; Rufinus X.36; Socrates III.18.3–4; Sozomen V.19.16–19; Artemii Passio 55; Zonaras XIII.12; Chrysostom, De s. Babyla 90 CPG 4348 = BHG 208. The procession must have been led by the Bishop of Antioch, the Homoean Euzoius, although all the Orthodox authors omit his name (see Brennecke 1988, 137–138). 31 Theodoret H.E. III.11.4–12.4; Sozomen V.20.5–6; Artemii Passio 56–57; Theophanes (De Boor 1883, 50); Zonaras XIII.12. 32 See Brennecke (1988, 140–141). 33 Known from Philostorgius VII.3 (see Brennecke 1988, 141–142). Sozomen V.21.1–3 (followed by the Epitome Historiae Ecclesiasticae 142) and Theophanes (De Boor 1883, 49) mention the statue of Julian. See Teitler (2017, 77–78). 34 Brennecke (1988, 142–143) posits the existence of two different versions of a Homoean tradition, represented by Socrates III.12.4 and Zonaras XIII.12. In Socrates (followed by Sozomen V.4.8–9 and the Epitome Historiae Ecclesiasticae 127), the mention of the emperor’s tolerant silence leads to a relatively favourable portrayal of Julian. Sozomen adds that Julian feigned meekness in order to cast himself in a favourable light – the Epitome Historiae Ecclesiasticae and Theophanes even use the expression “like a philosopher” (De Boor 1883, 48; Hansen 1995a, 58). 35 See Brennecke (1988, 144–145). 36 See Brennecke (1988, 146). 37 See Brennecke (1988, 147), according to whom the information in Sozomen V.8.1 (followed by the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion, in Delehaye 1902, 502– 504, 661–662, 679–680, and 689–690) comes from Homoean milieus. 38 See Brennecke (1988, 148). According to Cronnier (2015, 146), the source is the local bishop. Sozomen V. 9 (whose ancestors had left Gaza precisely as a consequence of the anti-Christian riots under Julian) is the basis of passio BHG 2131 and the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion (Delehaye 1902, 66). The entry in the Synaxarion also lists Busiris, although he was not from Gaza and was a confessor, not a martyr. 39 According to Brennecke (1988, 150–152), it is likely that Basil (appointed bishop in the autumn of 370) strengthened a cult that had emerged just after Eupsychius’ martyrdom. The latter, according to Sozomen V.11.7, belonged to a prominent family and was killed after he destroyed the temple of Fortuna in Caesarea. Eupsychius’ anti-pagan zeal suggests he was a member of the ­Homoean Church, which was predominant in Caesarea during the last years of Constantius II’s reign and under Julian, when it was led by Bishop Dianius (who died in 362). Basil, who introduced an annual diocesan synod on the day of the saint’s feast (7 September), mentions the cult of Eupsychius in letters 100 (y.  372), 142 (y. 373), 176 (y. 374), and 252 (y. 376). A different interpretation of the conflicts within the Church in Caesarea may be found in Fatti (2009a, 260–263 and 2009b, 68–99). On Eupsychius see also Teitler (2017, 91–94). 40 The Homoean bishop Mark of Arethusa – later included among the saints of the Orthodox Church thanks to Gregory’s praise – was possibly also mentioned in the Homoean source. In any case, the tradition about Mark is evidently of Homoean origin (see Brennecke 1988, 135). 41 See Brennecke (1988, 152). 42 See e.g. Theodoret III.15.5 on Juventinus and Maximinus.

The blood of innocents  75 43 According to Sozomen (V.10.1), Hilarion fled Palestine to avoid persecution under Julian. As Hilarion belonged to the Orthodox Church, this would bear witness to an anti-Orthodox persecution, presumably known to Sozomen through his own family tradition (in V.15.16 we read that the saint converted the historian’s ancestors). However, in the rest of the tradition, which derives from Jerome’s Vita Hilarionis (BHL 3879), this version is not confirmed. According to Jerome, Hilarion’s monastery was destroyed after the saint had already left Palestine (Bastiaensen 1975, 124). See Brennecke (1988, 148–149) (in n. 180 he highlights the panegyrical character of Jerome’s Vita Hilarionis, which thus has limited value as a historical source). 44 We also find an example from the Meletian tradition (Theodoret H.E. III.14) and one from the Homoean tradition (Sozomen V.11.7). Heretical circles are known to be the source of the tradition about Busiris, who according to Sozomen V.11.4–6 was an encratite: a Homoean tradition must therefore be ruled out (see Brennecke 1988, 149). According to Brennecke (1988, 149–150), the tradition about the martyrdom of Basil, a presbyter from Ancyra (cf. Chapter 5) described in Sozomen V.11.7–11, is of Homoousian origin; by contrast, according to Busine (2019, 268–276), this is a legendary tradition which originated after Julian’s death. 45 See Brennecke (1988, 152–157) and Fatti (2009b, 46–47). 46 See the Paschal Chronicle, whose account here derives from the Homoean source (PG 92, 740–741). 47 These cases of divine punishment in the Paschal Chronicle (PG 92, 741 and 744– 745) were newly published in Bidez (1981, 232–233) (see Philostorgius VII.13) and 235 as fragments of the Homoean source. 48 God instead praises perseverance, as is shown by the case of Jovian, Valentinian, and Valens, who rejected apostasy and were thus praised with rulership of the empire. In the Homoean tradition, by contrast to the pre-Constantinian one, there are no martyrs who were made such merely owing to their confession of the Christian faith: a profession of belonging to the Christian Church is not a cause of condemnation (confession only became prevalent as a cause of martyrdom in the later hagiographical tradition, in line with general trends in hagiography). For the Homoeans, anti-pagan acts of provocation amounted to a confession of faith, of zeal for the faith in Christ, who brooks no patience or tolerance when it comes to paganism. Significantly, the word “zeal” (zelos) is used in relation to Arthemius in the Paschal Chronicle (PG 92, 745A = Bidez 1981, 234) and by Theophanes (De Boor 1883, 51), but also by Socrates III.15.2 with regard to Macedonius, in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion with regard to Eupsychius (Delehaye 1902, 593, 13), and by Theodoret H.E. III.16.1 with regard to Valentinian. 49 See Brennecke (1988, 156–157) (according to whom the edict preventing Christians from teaching in schools – an edict harshly criticised by Gregory – plays no role in the Homoean tradition) and Scorza Barcellona (1995, 57). By contrast, in the Homoean tradition, it seems as though no provocations against pagan cults are described: the cause of martyrdom or persecution is the Christian faith, as illustrated for instance by the account about Theodore in Rufinus H.E. X.37. In Socrates III.19, Sozomen V.20.2–4, and Theodoret H.E. III.11 the later and erroneous link with the translatio of Babylas altered the original tradition (see Brennecke 1988, 156–157). 50 See e.g. PG 92, 740A. 51 Significantly, in contrast to other events in which martyrdom takes the form of a popular lynching, Arthemius’ death is described as a legal execution (PG 92, 745A). 52 After the studies by Glas (1914), Winkelmann (1966a, 346–385), (1966b), and (2000, 408–412), see the edition and introduction by Wallraff/Stutz/Marinides

76  The blood of innocents (2017). The reconstruction of Gelasius’ work is based on comparisons between Rufinus’ Latin Historia Ecclesiastica (CHAP 406; see Caltabiano 1993, 104– 106 and Trompf 2000, 169 on Julian in Rufinus, and Wallraff/Stutz/Marinides 2017, XXX–XXXVII on Rufinus and Gelasius) and Greek texts such as a pre-­ Metaphrastean Vita Athanasii (BHG 185). According to Winkelmann (1989– 1990, 455) and Wallraff/Stutz/Marinides (2017, LXI–LXVI), the unknown hagiographer of Athanasius drew upon the Ecclesiastical Histories by Gelasius of Caesarea and Socrates. 53 Fr 25g of Gelasius (Wallraff/Stutz/Marinides 2017, 240), from BHG 185 Chapter 15 and Rufinus X.28. 54 Il Fr 27a concerns the persecution of Athanasius under Julian (Wallraff/Stutz/ Marinides 2017, 246 and 248; on p. 250, Fr. 27b on the date of Julian’s death). 55 See Winkelmann (1966a, 347). According to Winkelmann (1966a, 357–358), in Gelasius of Caesarea, unlike the Homoean source, there was no list of martyrs, and the only anti-Christian measure taken by Julian is precisely the Athanasius’ exiling (see also Leppin 1996, 72 n. 5). In Rufinus, as Athanasius escapes persecution by fleeing, Theodore, a confessor at Antioch (H.E. X.36–37), is the only Christian who actually suffers any violence. Rufinus expressly states that he spoke to this confessor and hence is not basing his account on written sources. Winkelmann (1966b, 74–75), in his analysis of the ten passages in which Rufinus states that he is providing first-hand information, concludes that ten of them, including the episode about the confessor Theodore, are actually to be attributed to Rufinus’ personal research. 56 On these saints, see Teitler (2017, 118–124). According to Brennecke (1988, 145), it is far from certain that the cult of the two saints was widespread outside the city of Antioch. 57 See Célérier (2013, 333–357) and Rambault (2018, 16–26) on the oration. 58 Rambault (2018, 188). 59 Chapter 1 (Rambault 2018, 182–186). 60 Rambault (2018, 192). 61 Delehaye (1966a, 186) points to analogies with epic passions in the speech in which the two saints are urged to abjure their faith. 62 See Franchi de’ Cavalieri (1953, 79). Within a study on Julian in Chrysostom, the panegyric is quoted in Di Santo (2005, 350, 358, 360, 370, 373–377, and 382). 63 Rambault (2018, 202). 64 Schatkin (1990, 264). As Lugaresi (1997, 190) notes, John Chrysostom bears witness to the existence of this plan, but at the same time acknowledges that it has not been divulged. 65 H.E. III.15.7 (Parmentier 1998, 194). See Franchi de’ Cavalieri (1953, 182–183) and Franchi de’ Cavalieri (1946, 166 n. 2). 66 According to Vander Meiren (1983, 301), the text by Chrysostom played a crucial role in the subsequent cult of martyrs, whereas according to Peeters (1924, 77–82), Delehaye (1933a, 196, and 1966a, 166), a different hagiographical text was circulating that is now lost, given that their cult flourished in Antioch at least up until the 6th century, as is also attested by a hymn by Severus of Antioch. According to Franchi de’ Cavalieri (1953, 194–199), the compendium by Theodoret (H.E. III.15) bears witness to the existence of a passion of the two saints, now lost, that was also used for the passio antiquior of Sergius and Baccus (BHG 1624), which presents numerous analogies. Woods (1997a, 335–367; see also Woods 1997b, 283–284) takes up this hypothesis (opposed by Fowden 1999, 11–17; Walter 2003, 148–150 and 224–225). According to Franchi de’ Cavalieri (1915, 51), a lost passion of Juventinus and Maximinus also influenced the Latin passion of John and Paul. In Malalas (XIII.19) we find a different

The blood of innocents  77 tradition about the two saints, who are said to have blended in with the crowds insulting Julian in order to incite them, and are therefore sentenced to death without due process (see Franchi de’ Cavalieri 1953, 187–189). 67 Historia Lausiaca 45.1 (Bartelink 1974, 218). 68 Some purification may also have been consciously carried out by anti-Homoean bishops, as would appear to have been the case with Eupsychius of Cesarea (see Brennecke 1988, 152). 69 According to Hägg (1999, 58), Photius had little interest in hagiography and may therefore have overlooked a lot of Philostorgius’ information on the martyrdom of saints. According to Malosse (2011, 209, and 217), Philostorgius also drew upon a letter by Julian (ep. 46). 70 Bleckmann/Stein (2015a, 302). See also Philostorgius VII.8 and, on profanations, VII.4 (Bleckmann/Stein 2015a, 336 and 312). 71 It is most unlikely that Arthemius was also commemorated by Philostorgius as a martyr (see Teitler 2017, 42 and Bleckmann/Stein 2015a, 27–28). 72 Bleckmann/Stein (2015, 312a). Translation in Amidon (2007, 93). 73 On Julian in Orthodox historians, see Leppin (1996, 72–85) and Célérier (2013, 361–433). 74 Penella (1993, 35): “the lasting impression with which one comes away from the Church historians is that, intentionally or not, Julian was often at least partially responsible for the physical violence inflicted on Christians by others”. 75 Different positions have been upheld by Urbainczyk (1998, 314 and 316) and Wallraff (1997, 87, 100 n. 345 and 103), on the one hand, according to whom Socrates does not provide a very negative portrayal of Julian, and Buck (2003, 317), on the other, according to whom Socrates “wrote a thoroughly negative account of Julian”. Buck’s position seems the better-founded of the two: out of the three Orthodox historians, Sozomen seems the most moderate with regard to Julian, as noted by Leppin (1996, 79 and 84; see also Trovato 2010–2011). 76 Buck (2003, 312). 77 Socrates III.19.1. 78 Hansen (1995a, 214). 79 See Buck (2003, 313): Rufinus does not speak of Julian “revealing his hidden nature, nor does he name Diocletian or construct an unfulfilled intention”. 80 The main elements of Aemilianus’ passion all occur in Socrates’ work: the governor orders the resumption of pagan forms of worship (III.15.1), and after the desecration of the pagan temple (III.15.2), the perpetrators hand themselves in to avoid innocent people being sentenced (III.15.3). The offering of a reprieve in exchange for a sacrifice to the gods is rejected (III.15.4–5) and, after various tortures, the governor orders the saints to be burned alive (III.15.6). The latter respond with a variant of the motto Assum est, versa et manduca, popularised by the passio of St Lawrence (III.15.8). This is the only detail for which no precise analogy can be found in the various redactions of the passion of Aemilianus known to us. Delehaye (1933b, 57; followed by De Gaiffier 1956, 14) posits the existence of a passion that was used by Socrates and Sozomen, but which is now lost. The tradition about the martyrs from Meros has been studied by various scholars (Franchi de’ Cavalieri 1900, 166 n. 3; Delehaye 1900b, 453, 1912, 263–264 and 1933b, 55–56; Franchi de’ Cavalieri 1902, 57; Van de Vorst 1910, 266; Franchi de’ Cavalieri 1915, 66; De Gaiffier 1956, 49; Verrando 1990, 175; Scorza Barcellona 1995, 60 and 82–83; Joassart 2000, 750–751). 81 Sozomen and Theodoret are the first historians known to us who display an interest in the tradition about martyrs under Julian, as emphasised by Wallraff (1997, 87–88). 82 Hansen (1995a, 209).

78  The blood of innocents 83 Hansen (1995a, 369). On Theodosius II in the works of ecclesiastical historians, see Zecchini (2002, 529–546) (esp. 534–535 on the praise of the emperor in Socrates VII.22). 84 Bidez (1960, 198). 85 Bidez (1960, 203). With regard to Theodoret’s death, in V.7.9 Sozomen acknowledges that the person responsible was comes Julian, the emperor’s uncle, who acted against the Apostate’s orders (Bidez 1960, 203). 86 Bidez (1960, 209). 87 According to Buck (2006, 62), Sozomen is drawing upon oral sources in Chapter 11, except for the information about Macedonius, Theodoulos, and ­Tatian: the analogous hypothesis of the oral transmission of a passion of Basil of Ancyra and Eupsychius finds support in the use of the word logos, by which Sozomen opens his narrative. 88 Bidez (1960, 210). 89 See Wallraff (1997, 87–88). 90 According to Nesselrath (2001, 41) “Meisterleistung der Insinuation ist schließlich der Abschnitt über Julians Tod” in Sozomen, given the care with which the supernatural version of Julian’s death is presented. 91 See Leppin (1996, 79 and 84), Buck (2006, 53–54 and 58) (more convincing than Krivushin 1997, 16, whose interpretation is correct as regards the assessment of the historian’s account of the events under Julian’s reign, but not as regards Sozomen’s evaluation of the emperor’s personality) and Trovato 2010–2011. On Socrates’ and Sozomen’s sources in general, see the table in Van Nuffelen (2004, 455–497). 92 See Barnes (1993, 209), Marasco (2004–2005, 145–167), and Martin (2009, 46–64). 93 Parmentier (1998, 184). 94 Per Penella (1993, 40–41) Theodoret (either consciously or unconsciously) misreads Julian’s ep. 110, which threatens to punish failure to comply with a sentence of exile with “far greater and harsher punishments” (Bidez 1960, 188). This more violent Julian reappears in a Vita Athanasii BHG 183 attributed to Simeon the Metaphrast, in which Julian orders a “satrap” to kill the bishop (PG 25, CCVIII). 95 Parmentier (1998, 188). 96 See Martin (2009, 52–53) concerning the Orthodox bishop Meletius and the Homoean one Euzoius, and the traditions of Homoean origin in III.15–18. 97 This is therefore a tradition developed in milieus close to Meletius, taken up by Theodoret, and then transmitted through him to the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion (Delehaye 1902, 180–181). 98 According to Brennecke (1988, 144–145), this is a local Antiochene tradition that may be of Homoean origin. According to Martin (2009, 54), it is an Orthodox tradition: indeed, the praising of the figure of Publia may be a reaction to Homoean propaganda concerning the procession led by Bishop Euzoius. Through Theodoret, the account about Publia reached the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion (Delehaye 1902, 123). On Publia, see Teitler (2017, 82–84). 99 According to Brennecke (1988, 145–146), this tradition probably derives from Julian’s ep. 98 Bidez of March 363. The church of Berea broke away from the Homoeans in 363, so it is far from certain that this tradition originated in Homoean milieus. 100 Socrates III.13.11 instead generically attributes human sacrifices to pagans. 101 On the language of power in relation to Julian: Leppin (1996, 83) and Leppin (2003, 239). 102 See Penella (1993, 42), Leppin (1996, 83), Giuffrida (2003, 136), Nesselrath (2001, 43) (n. 100, p. 42, presents a list of the insults that are piled upon the Apostate, following Gregory of Nazianzus).

The blood of innocents  79 103 Consider the sentencing of Juventinus and Maximinus for lese-majesty rather than simply for being Christians (III.15.8), the pardon granted to Christian soldiers at the very last moment (III.17.7), and the releasing of the confessor Theodore (III.11.1–3). 104 Bidez/Parmentier (1898, 6). 105 Lists BHG 151–152, with introductory information on Dorotheus, have been published in Schermann (1907a, 132–160) (in Schermann 1907a, 151–152, the forger’s claim that Pope John I deemed these lists genuine). 106 Schermann (1907a, 132–133). 107 See Schermann (1907b, 178 and 352). Schermann believes that this presbyter is the origin of the tradition found in the source common to Theophanes and to the prologue to the lists attributed to Dorotheus (see also Zeiller 1918, 31–32 and 128). 108 On this Dorotheus – a jurist – and his fame in Byzantium, see Brandsma (1996). 109 This monk reportedly wrote a treatise entitled Tragedia (the same title as a work that Basil the Great is said to have addressed against Julian, as also stated by Theophanes A. M. 6002), but the scepticism voiced by Fatti (2009b, 92 n. 167), with regard to this piece of information seems well-founded. 110 It may also be that several Dorotheuses were confused (see e.g. Lequeux 2009, 8 concerning the risk of confusion with another Dorotheus). 111 This was already the view of Tillemont (1732a, 657–658). The tradition was instead a reliable one according to the Bollandists Henschenius and Janningus (AASS Iun. I, 434–436 and 591), as well as Bareille (1939, 1788). The tradition about Dorotheus of Tyre is a legendary one according to Lipsius (1883, 197), Duchesne (1895, 74–75), Zeiller (1918, 31–32 and 128; according to whom the Arian Dorotheus of Antioch and Dorotheus the Bishop of Tyre in 458 lie at the origin of the tradition), Bardy (1936, 5 and 1952, 1039), Dölger (1953, 112 n. 70), De Gaiffier (1956, 19; according to whom Theophanes distorts information drawn from Eusebius H.E. VII.32 and VIII.1, followed by the author of the lists BHG 151–152 used by the compilers of the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion), Baus (1959, 525), Beck (1959, 560), Aubert (1960b, 692), Dummer (1995, 348; less confident in his scepticism), Uthemann (1995, 349), and Dietz (2000, 850). Batiffol (1907, 191 n. 1), refers to Duchesne’s scepticism, yet would not appear to embrace it wholeheartedly. 112 Lequeux (2019, 251) suggests dating to the period 525–550. 113 Dolbeau (2012, 244–246 and 285), followed by Guignard (2016, 473), suggests a dating to the years just before Theophanes (Schermann 1907b, 292 and 351–353, had suggested a similar dating). According to Dvornik (1958, 159–160 and 164– 165), the forger’s work is not anterior to Heraclius (pp. 178–179: the list of bishops of Byzantium was composed around the year 800, along with the account about Dorotheus that was intended to lend authoritativeness to the forgery; the list is known to Theophanes through the source he shared with the forger). Dvornik (1964, 75 and 77) mentions the work attributed to Dorotheus in relation to the legend of St Andrew. According to Beck (1959, 560), the forger was active in Photius’ era; according to Peterson (1963, 19), in the first half of the 9th century. Earlier dates are favoured by Fischer (1884, 274) (ca. 476–525) and Lipsius (1883, 199) (between the early 5th and the early 6th century). According to Hergenroether (1867, 661), who denied Dorotheus’ existence, the apocryphal text was already known in the 7th century. Duchesne (1895, 76) dates the lists attributed to the saint to the 7th century without ruling out another possible dating. Dölger (1953, 112 n. 70) quotes Lipsius (1883, 195–199) and Hergenroether (1867, 660). 114 De Boor (1883, 24 and 48–49). 115 Schermann (1907a, 132). This double mention of Dorotheus in Theophanes provides significant evidence against Brennecke’s hypothesis (Brennecke

80  The blood of innocents

116

117 118 119 120

1988, 136) that traces of the Homoean tradition about Dorotheus are to be found in Theophanes, Theophylact (in the Passio martyrum XV Tiberiopoli 13 in Kiapidou 2015, 88), Nikephoros Kallistos (H.E. X.9 in PG 146, 465), and Michael the Syrian (on Michael the Syrian, a 12th-century Syriac-language author, and his historiographical work, see Weltecke 2003 and Van Ginkel 2010, 113–121). Bidez (1981, 231) had already regarded the passages on Dorotheus by Theophanes, Theophylact, and Michael the Syrian as deriving from a Homoean source. On the Passio martyrum XV Tiberiopoli, see Chapter X. Following Brennecke, we must probably assume that Theophanes, who had already read the Homoean source in relation to the period extending at least up to Julian’s death, anticipated the information on Dorotheus when writing about Constantine and that, when he got to Julian’s reign, he again mentioned the saint from the Homoean source, this time providing a summary of its account. Moreover, Christian zelos, which Brennecke highlights as a distinctive feature of the Homoean martyrology, is absent from the narratives about Dorotheus, who – on the ­c ontrary – flees precisely to avoid martyrdom. According to Livrea (1991, 319–327), the Dorotheus martyred sub Iuliano is the author of the same name who wrote the poem Visio Dorothei CPG 1940: this work, which presented heretical, if not Gnostic, features, made it impossible for the Orthodox to commemorate Dorotheus; this would explain why 4th- and 5th-century Christian authors make no mention at all of his martyrdom under Julian (see also Livrea 1993, 136–137, 148–149 and 170; Livrea 1996, 73 and 86). However, if anything, this argument actually proves the opposite, i.e. the saint’s non-existence: resorting to a figure of questionable Orthodoxy to assert the primacy of the Church of Constantinople would have proven counter-productive. Krumbacher (1897, 351) and von Christ (1924, 1350) do not support Dorotheus’ existence, contrary to what Livrea (1991, 322 n. 6) claims, which thus appears to be quoting Krumbacher indirectly, via Schermann (1907b, 175), mentioned on p. 322 n. 7. Another author mentioned by Livrea is Treppner (1891, 72), but the latter only refers to Theophanes to support his idea of Dorotheus of Tyre’s existence, without discussing the issue. Not even scholars of the Visio Dorothei would appear to have accepted Livrea’s hypothesis (see Kessels/Van der Horst 1987, 356; Bremmer 1988, 87, 1993, 258 and 2002, 129–131; MacCoull 1991, 653, Agosti 2001, 191, Carlini 2002, 135, Rudhardt 2002, 115–122, Schubert 2002, 20–21 and 25, and Verheyden 2011, 128). Schöllgen (1995, 347) mentions Livrea’s study, without discussing it. See Follieri (1980, 312 n. 48). The only possible trace of a passion of Dorotheus’ existence is found in the fragments of a 7th-century papyrus published in Papaconstantinou (2000, 193). However, as noted by Bremmer (2002, 131), it is impossible to reach any definite conclusion on the matter. See Lequeux (2019, 252–260). See also Franchi de’ Cavalieri (1920, 109). See Høgel (2002, 46) concerning the fact that only hagiographical texts by a known author were unlikely to be rewritten. Bouffartigue (2006, 141) uses the term “singularité” and on p. 151 notes that the Julian section of Malalas’ work is significant from a literary point of view, as it provides a new account compared to the tradition found in ecclesiastical histories, which tended to repeat itself – although Malalas’ account is certainly of Christian inspiration and shows an interest in mirabilia (note, however, that on p. 152 Bouffartigue argues that Malalas did not abandon his role as a historian to play that of the narrator of marvels, as is shown by the fact that in XIII.25 he warns his readers that the legendary versions of Julian’s death are not to be found in Eutropius). Bouffartigue’s verdict is therefore far less negative than

The blood of innocents  81

121

122

123 1 24 125

126 127

128

129

that of other scholars (see e.g. Treadgold 2007a, 246–256, according to whom Malalas is a plagiarist, and Jeffreys (1979, 227): “In his preferences for personalities rather than abstractions, anecdotes rather than constitutional analyses, and his pedantic insistence on his authorities, one can perhaps discern the man’s own personality: a fussy gossip with a liking for the tangible”). In both cases the chronicler quotes passages from the first book of Contra Iulianum, in which Cyril outlines the fundamental principles of Christian doctrine before refuting Julian’s theses. According to Treadgold (2007b, 743 n. 2), the quotation from Cyril in Malalas is drawn from Eustathius of Epiphania. Parabates is used in late-antique hagiographical texts from Syria, confirming the hypothesis that the term originated in this area. We find it in the passion of Theodoret BHG 2425 (discussed in the present chapter), that of Dometius BHG 560 (see Chapter 5), and in the Syriac life of Eusebius of Samosata BHO 294 (Devos 1967, 199–200 n. 1). Thurn (2000, 250). On the use of parabates in Malalas, see Martin (2004, 88), Bouffartigue (2006, 141). See Hunger (1978a, 322). Christophilopoulou (1966–1967, 53–54) provides a list of all the insults and negative epithets used for Julian in Byzantine chronicles. Moreover, in this somatopsychogramma, Julian, like many other emperors (e.g. Hadrian in XI.13, Tacitus in XII.31, Maximian Herculius in XII.45, and Eudocia in XIV.4, as well as Paris and Antenor in V.10), is called ellogimos (Thurn 2000, 250). In several somatopsychogrammata Malalas employs previously unattested words, including – in the work on Julian (as well as in that on Justinian, in XVIII.1) – eusthetos (see Jeffreys 1990b, 241). It is therefore far from certain that Malalas derived this adjective from Julian’s portrayal in Socrates III.1.1, as contended by Bouffartigue (2006, 140). According to Jeffreys (1990b, 243), the source of these imperial portrayals is the chronicler Nestorianus; however, as in other cases, it is impossible to safely establish what Malalas’ sources may have been. According to Treadgold (2007b, 728), the name of Nestorianus and those of many other authors quoted by Malalas (e.g. Eutychian and Membronius the Babylonian) are the chronicler’s own inventions. More specifically, in his view (pp. 730 and 738) the portrayals of emperors are fanciful additions of Malalas’ to Eustathius of Epiphania’s texts, which he plagiarised. Bleckmann (1992a, 3) also believes that many quotes have been fabricated by Malalas. Concerning Antiochene hagiographical traditions in Malalas, see Weismann (1975, 54–58). According to Bleckmann (1992a, 389), this fair-headed youth represents Apollo as the Sun, whom the dying Julian was to address. In his hymn In Helium Regem 22, the Apostate syncretistically identifies the god Helios with Apollo with Apollo, like many other ancient authors, starting from Aeschylus (see Marcone in Prato/Marcone 1987, 308–309). On Julian and divination, see Thelamon (2014, 532). Malalas does not depart from the rest of the Greek-language tradition solely in relation to Juventinus and Maximinus’ sentencing, which John Chrysostom explained in different terms: Malalas also mentions (XIII.19) Julian’s sacrifice to Zeus on mount Kasios (mentioned by Ammianus XXII.14.4 but not by Church historians); however, he does not recount certain events that ecclesiastical historians instead stress, such as Julian’s order to move Babylas’ remains, the burning down of the temple at Daphne, and the closing down of the great church in Antioch (see Bouffartigue 2006, 143). Bouffartigue (1998, 79) (see e.g. Gregory of Nazianzus or. 4.96–97 and Socrates III.13.1–2).

82  The blood of innocents 30 1 131 132 133 134 135

136

137

138

139

40 1 141 142

See Chapter V concerning the hagiographical tradition about Dometius. See Bleckmann (2017, 99–133) and Bouffartigue (2006, 142–148). See Chapter VI on the tradition about the friendship between Julian and Basil. Jeffreys/Scott (1986, 181–182). See Scott (2018, 188). The first version, attributed to Magnus of Carrhae, is the most plausible one (the emperor is wounded in battle under obscure circumstances). In the second version, attributed to Eutychian of Cappadocia, after routing the Persian king, Julian – who is sleeping in his tent – has the vision of a man striking him with a spear, and as he dies cries out: “O Sun, you have killed Julian” (Thurn 2000, 257). Martin (2004, 89) observes that Malalas chiefly dwells on Constantine, in addition to Julian and Theodosius. According to Scott (2006, 62), the limited attention that Malalas pays to Constantius II’s reign de facto establishes a contrast between the Christian Constantine and the pagan Julian, but – unlike the hagiographers Arthemius and Eusignius – Malalas does not stress this opposition between the two emperors. Duffy (2007, 8–9) mentions various cases of supernatural phenomena in Malalas, including Julian’s death, and on p. 9 concludes: “Malalas was intrigued by all kinds of strange and supernatural happenings, as well as by men and women who were believed to possess expert knowledge or special powers”. Bouffartigue (2006, 151) describes him as “un collectionneur de mirabilia”. According to Jeffreys (1990a, 186, 189, 199, and 215 n. 31), Malalas looked for supplementary material on Julian’s death, in addition to the sources usually employed. By contrast, according to Gleye (1894, 587), Malalas only drew upon accounts of Julian’s death. These miraculous visions are also used to mark the beginning and the end of the Julian section by highlighting the fulfilment of the prophecy foretelling his death that Julian received in the temple of Apollo, mentioned in XIII.19 (Martin 2004, 88 describes the Julian section of Malalas’ work as “le récit d’une morte annoncée”). According to Bleckmann (1992a, 391–392 and 2017, 115), the dying Julian’s address to the Sun derives from a pagan source, since a Christian one would not have acknowledged the action of Julian’s god. However, as noted by Martin (2004, 100), the first author to record an address to the Sun by the dying Apostate is Philostorgius (VII.15). Furthermore, it is difficult to regard as pagan an account that shows Julian accusing the Sun of having spelled his ruin, rather than dying philosophically as in Ammianus (XXV.3.15–23) or in Eunapius fragment 28.6 Blockley. According to Nostitz-Rieneck (1907, 13), Julian’s address in Philostorgius would appear to have been influenced by Herodotus (I.212.3) (and hence constructed a posteriori): Tomyris, Queen of the Massagetae, vows to the Sun that she will give Cyrus his fill of blood. Therefore, just as the last Delphic oracle was fabricated a posteriori by a Christian author (Guida 1998, 389–413), the same may have happened with Julian’s last words. In both cases, possibly due to the same author, the tendency is the same: to show that paganism itself admitted its defeat. Herodotean influences have been detected in Philostorgius’ ethnography (Zecchini 1990, 593–594); however, already in the second invective against Julian, Gregory of Nazianzus mentions (or. 5.11) the deceit through which the Persian Zopyrus ensured Darius’ reconquest of Babylon, according to Herodotus III.153–159. See Treadgold (2007b, 722–729). See Trovato (2015, 320–321). According to Bouffartigue (2006, 141), the source on Juventinus and Maximinus is a popular hymn.

The blood of innocents  83 143 Boulhol (2004, 111) compares the tale of Dometius with those of other saints and detects a common narrative pattern, whereby war leads to a chance encounter between the saint(s) and the persecutor. 144 See Ljubarskij (1992, 178). 145 In XIII.21 Julian is presented as a general who methodically advances until he reaches the enemy capital, with the support of efficient officers at the head of brave soldiers, rather than as an emperor who reacts abruptly when dealing with enemies who face him with no intermediaries. This impression is confirmed by the following section (XIII.22), in which Malalas describes how the defeated Persian king Sapor flees and resorts to a ruse: Persian soldiers pretending to be deserters lead the Roman army into a deserted area. After discovering their trick, instead of punishing them immediately, the emperor promises to spare them in exchange for the salvation of the Roman army. The same kind of behaviour is described at the beginning of XIII.23: Julian is wounded under obscure circumstances as he is urging the army not to move in disorderly fashion. 146 Horn/Phenix (2008, 151). 147 Thurn (2000, 404). According to Moffatt (1990, 100), the fall of Julian’s statue “patently symbolises the triumph of Christianity over Julian’s paganism”, but Malalas does not seem keen to emphasise this. 148 See Malalas XII.43 and X.48 (Thurn 2000, 198 and 238). 149 According to Fatti (2009a, 259 n. 58), the information provided by Malalas seems all the more reliable precisely because it is not clumsily inserted in the legend about St Mercurius. See Fatti (2009a, 260–263) concerning the ambiguous role played by Basil in relation to the Christian community of Caesarea’s internal conflicts in 362, when Julian and Basil apparently found a common enemy in the newly-appointed bishop, Eusebius. Obviously, the subsequent tradition would have to obliterate, to make disappear completely this compromising connection and the correspondence between the future bishop and the emperor. 150 It is therefore difficult to fully accept the conclusion reached by Boulhol (2004, 111): “L’Apostat est, pour notre chroniquer comme pour tous les auteurs tributaires de la ‘légende noire’ de Julien, le souverain sans mesure qui vise la guerre totale, extérieure et intérieure, nationale autant que religieuse”. 151 The two editions may be found in Roberto (2005a) and Mariev (2008). According to Sotiroudis (1989b, 148–150), John of Antioch composed his historical work between 520 and 530. According to Howard-Johnston (2010, 140–142), he did so during Justinian’s reign and his work was then continued by another author, up to 610. According to Van Nuffelen (2012, 445), the work was completed in 518 and updated first up to 610 and then up to 640. 152 Roberto (2005a, LXI–LXXIII). By contrast, Bleckmann (2006, 1072–1075), Paschoud (2006, 334–335), and Ratti (2009, 337) do not attribute the fragments of the Excerpta Salmasiana (named after the French philologist Claude Saumaise) to John of Antioch. The Excerpta Constantiniana, used both by Roberto and by Mariev, are extracts found in the compilations that Constantine Porphyrogenitus commissioned in the 10th century. Mariev (2016, 252–265) and Roberto (2016, 267–286) embody the opposite positions with regard to the issue. Treadgold (2007a, 311–329) assigns John of Antioch to the 7th century, in accordance with Roberto’s dating, but regards him as a plagiarist like Malalas. Whatever the relationship between John of Antioch and Eustathius, in the Byzantine world the historical work that Treadgold attributes to the latter was always assigned to the former; in a study on Julian’s reception in medieval Byzantium, it will therefore not be misleading to consider John of Antioch the author and to use his name instead of that of Eustathius of Epiphania. As far as the figure of Julian is concerned, the indebtedness of John of Antioch and Malalas to Eustathius would not appear to have been confirmed (see the analysis in Trovato

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1 56 157 158 159 160

1 61 162

1 63 164

2015, 306–324 concerning John of Antioch’s sources for Julian’s reign and the hypotheses in Cameron 2011, 659–690). Roberto (2005a, 446) (see also p. CXLI n. 40). Mariev (2008, 362–364) does not mention any sources. Parabates may be an addition by the excerptor, considering his working method (on which see Brunt 1980, 484). See Bleckmann (1992a, 347–372 and 402). On the Leoquelle see Chapter IX. See Bleckmann (1992a, 398) (in n. 25, p. 332, he argues that John used the first edition of Eunapius’ historical work, the one that according to Photius was openly anti-Christian) and Bleckmann (2006, 1073–1075), according to which John’s source – as far as Constantius II is concerned – may have been the first edition of Eunapius’ work (at any rate, not Ammianus or an author associated with the latter’s tradition), whereas the source of the Excerpta Salmasiana was probably the Leoquelle (see also Bleckmann 2010, 60–61). Indeed, according to John, ­ unapius fr. Constantius II is driven by envy (phthonos) towards Julian, and in E 20.5 Blockley Constantius II sees Julian’s triumphs as misfortunes – his wrathful phthonos is what sparks the conflict (Blockley 1983, 30). John’s indebtedness to Eunapius, however, cannot be proven with any certainty, owing to certain differences noted by Bleckmann (2009, 66–71), according to whom the source of fr. 264 Roberto is an unknown pagan. Concerning Eunapius’ influence on John of Antioch, see Blockley (1981, 99), Sotiroudis (1989b, 129–135), and Roberto (2005a, CXLI–CXLIII) on Eunapius, and Mariev (2008, 37*–38*). See Bleckmann (1992a, 398) and Blockley (1983, vii). Fr. 271 Roberto = 204 Mariev (Roberto 2005a, 454 = Mariev 2008, 364). Mariev (2008, 364), Roberto (2005a, 454). John redevelops – and sometimes quotes verbatim – various pieces of information drawn from Socrates (III.1.54–55, III.14.7–8, III.11.1, III.12.7–13.1–4, III.16.1, III.19; see Sotiroudis 1989b, 123–124). According to Roberto (2003, 270), John radically redeveloped a Greek tradition by Eutropius that found significant points of contact with that by Peanios, who was active around 380. According to Roberto (2005a, CXXXII), John of Antioch rewrote Eutropius’ text to such a degree that it is impossible to reconstruct the original source. According to Mariev 2008, 34*, none of the various hypotheses on the relationship between Eutropius and John (i.e. that John used Capito’s Greek translation, that he built on another Greek translation, or that he read Eutropius directly in Latin) can be proven. “Particularly striking is F 180M = 272R”, notes Cameron (2011, 667), since John “gives more detail (and a different emphasis)” compared to Eutropius in the middle section of this fragment. Mariev (2008, 366), Roberto (2005a, 456). This is suggested by De Boor (1885b, 330), Sotiroudis (1989b, 130), Bleckmann (1992a, 332) (the first edition of Eunapius’ work), and Mariev (2008, 38*). According to Paschoud (2006, 327 and 337), it is far from certain that the information about the fire at the Antioch library (on which see Downey 1961, 398) comes from Eunapius, not least because, in fragment 273.1 Roberto, which is unanimously regarded as genuine, John uses a Latinism ( famossois in Roberto 2005a, 458 = Mariev 2008, 370), which we would not expect to find in Eunapius. In discussing the passage from Eunapius’ Vitae Sophistarum on the destruction of the Serapeum, Civiletti (2007, 420–422) does not refer to the passage by John of Antioch as a possible point of comparison. According to De Boor (1885b, 330), Blockley (1983, 44–46), Ochoa (1990, 222), and Mariev (2008, 368), much of fragment 273.2, which Roberto (2005a, 460) attributes to John, actually belongs to Eunapius’ historical work (fr. 29 Blockley). Fr. 287 Roberto = 219 Mariev (Roberto 2005a, 484 = Mariev 2008, 396 and 398). Fr. 272 Roberto = 205 Mariev (Mariev 2008, 366).

The blood of innocents  85 165 Roberto (2005a, XXII–XXIII and CLVII) (see also Sotiroudis 1989b, 48). 1 66 Likewise, with regard to Priscus of Panium’s contradictory portrayal of Majorian, Baldwin (1980, 31) notes that the inconsistency may be due not to Priscus himself but to John of Antioch, who after drawing upon the former’s work, suddenly switched to a different source (“Either Priscus was inconsistent, or John of Antioch had abruptly changed his source”). 167 See Roberto (2005a, CXXV) (according to whom Eutropius is one of the key authors for John, who borrowed his chronological framework and basic narrative structure, which he then used to arrange data drawn from other sources) (and CXLIII), and Roberto (2005b, 969). By contrast, according to Ratti (2009, 333), Eutropius is only one of John’s sources, and not the main one. 168 See Roberto (2005a, LXXIV) (p. CLVIII states between the mid-7th and 10th cent.) and Roberto (2005c, 255). 169 According to Patzig (1904, 28–32), the Salmasian John drew this information directly from Ammianus, whereas Roberto (2005a, CXLI) is more cautious: “Giovanni utilizza Ammiano (o la sua tradizione) soprattutto per il periodo tra Costanzo II e Giuliano”. According to Cameron (2011, 677 and 680–681), Ammianus and John depend on Eunapius. 170 Roberto (2005a, CXLI). 171 See codex 77 of Photius’ Bibliotheca (Henry 1959, 159). 172 See Civiletti (2007, 336) and Siniossoglou (2011, 54–62) on the last pagans’ low-profile life and dissimulation. 173 In fr. 28.6 Blockley = 26 Müller of Eunapius’ historical work, an oracle foretells Julian’s death and ascent to Olympus to him in the same atmosphere of detachment from earthly events (Blockley 1983, 44). Cameron (2011, 667–689), also believes that Eunapius is the source of the pro-Julian material found in John of Antioch and Zonaras. 174 See Bleckmann (1992a, 400; on pp. 397–399 Bleckmann argues against a connection between Eunapius and the Leoquelle tradition; see also the analysis of fragments 263 and 267–270 and of their sources in Bleckmann 2010, 56–59, which does not assign fragment 267 to the Leoquelle, but rather to a “mittelbyzantinische Tradition”). Ratti (2009, 334–337) seeks to outline the relationship between Ammianus, John of Antioch, the Salmasian (whom he distinguishes from the real John of Antioch), and the Leoquelle. See also Paschoud (2006, 335). 175 On the circulation of John of Antioch’s work in Byzantium, see Roberto (2005a, CLVII–CLXVIII). 176 See Brennecke (1988, 140). 177 According to Brennecke (1988, 147), the tradition about presbyter Theodoret comes from Homoean circles, since it describes a persecution directed against Euzoius and the Homoean cathedral (Theodoret would have been a member of its clergy). 178 Ehrhard (1937, 575). Ehrhard (1937, 590 n. 3) believed this fragment to be part of passion BHG 2425, which was still unpublished at the time; however, no trace of the fragment is to be found in that text (see Follieri 1967, 362 n. 2 and Scorza Barcellona 1995, 75). According to Halkin (1986a, 123), passion BHG 2424z is more of a rhetorical text than a historical one. 179 Halkin (1986a, 124). Theodoret of Cyrrhus expresses a similar idea in Graecarum affectionum curatio II.4–5. 180 Halkin (1986a, 124). In 337 the Bishop of Antioch was Flacillo, also known as Flacitus or Flacellius (Devreesse 1945, 116). 181 Halkin (1986a, 125; there may be an allusion to John Chrysostom, De s. Babyla 121 CPG 4348 = BHG 208, in Schatkin 1990, 264). 182 Halkin (1986a, 127). According to John Chrysostom, Juventinus and Maximinus were also beheaded at night (PG 50, 576 = Rambault 2018, 204).

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190 91 1

1 92 193 194

195 196

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Halkin (1986a, 128–132). Halkin (1986a, 133). Halkin (1986a, 134). Halkin (1986a, 135). See Marcone (2019, 239) on Julian’s death in ancient sources. Halkin (1986a, 137). Halkin (1986a, 137–138). According to Orlandi (1968, 123), the Latin translation (which does not entirely coincide with the Greek passion BHG 2425, which was still unpublished at the time) transmits the “leggenda pura e semplice, allo stato ‘originario’”. Julian attacks the Persians and defeats them in a great battle, but then finds himself facing an army of angels, is suddenly wounded on the right side, and finally cries out: “O Iesu Nazarene Crucifixe, vicisti. Sufficiat tibi hoc. De cetero esse te actum, satiatus es ideo quod vicisti” (Orlandi 1968, 124). According to Orlandi’s reconstruction, the fundamental elements pertaining to Julian’s death (the vision of a heavenly host and the blasphemous words) in the Latin passion of Theodoret are two distinct elements, two legends that “nascon ben separate” (Orlandi 1968, 125). In the Greek passion of Theodoret BHG 2425, Julian instead hears the sound of chariots; hence, either the Latin passions derive from a Greek redaction which has not reached us, or the Latin hagiographers chose to make the arrival of the angelic army more visible. Be that as it may, from this specific perspective, passion BHG 2425 is closer to the so-called first Syriac Romance (see Gollancz 1928, 197–198), in which a priest by the name of “Theodoritas” makes his appearance precisely in relation to the seizure of the church of Antioch’s goods by orders of the emperor’s uncle (see Gollancz 1928, 128–130). Bleckmann/Stein (2015a, 348). See Bidez (1981, CLIX) on the analogies between Philostorgius, the passion of Theodoret, and the Latin passion of Bonosus and Massimilian (BHL 1427), set in Antioch and featuring comes Julian as the saint’s antagonist (according to Woods (1995, 25–55), the passion of Bonosus and Massimilian was composed directly in Latin, on the basis of genuine documents, rather than translated from the Greek). Halkin (1986a, 127). See Brennecke (1988, 154). At the beginning of the passion we already find Constantine’s name in a context (Julian’s feigning to be a Christian out of fear) in which we would rather expect to find that of Constantius II (Halkin 1986a, 124). What may also have contributed to this name substitution is contamination with the tradition recorded by Philostorgius II.16. According to this tradition, in 337, after having been poisoned by his brothers, Constantine ordered his sons to avenge him, thereby justifying the palace massacre in which Julian was saved by a bishop, according to a tradition already attested by Gregory’s first invective (or. 4.91). Comes Julian forces the saint to choose between the performance of a sacrifice to the gods in accordance with an imperial edict (i.e. one establishing an all-out persecution) or beheading (Halkin 1986a, 134). Certain analogies, however, are also to be found between comes Julian and his nephew: for example, in the contemptuous terms they use to refer to churches and Jesus. Franchi de’ Cavalieri (1920, 70 and 72) had already stressed these features of the passion of Theodoret, which was only known from Latin passions at the time (the corresponding passages from passion BHG 2425 may be found in Halkin 1986a, 127, 130, and 135). See Franchi de’ Cavalieri (1920, 86–88). The confusion between Theodoret and Theodore in the Latin sources is already attested by AASS Mart. III, 449 and then by Delehaye in AASS Nov. II, 2, 156 and 166. The same confusion is

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1 99 200 2 01 202 203 204 205 206

2 07 208 209

210

211

attested by a manuscript of the History of the Patriarch of Alexandria by the Arab bishop Severus, active in the 10th century (Gribomont 1971, 483). Garitte 1958, 169 notes that in the entry for 2 March a Georgian medieval calendar mentions an unidentified Theocritus (this may reflect confusion with Theodoret, the Antioch priest sentenced to death by comes Julian, and commemorated on precisely 2 March or around then in Greek calendars). Tillemont (1732b, 735–736) deems the passion of Theodoret reliable, as do van Hecke in AASS Oct. X, 32–37 and Allard (1910b, 74–78). Franchi de’ Cavalieri’s scepticism is instead shared by Delehaye (1940, 471 and 570), De Gaiffier (1956, 16–17), Scorza Barcellona (1995, 76), Wiemer (1995, 192 n. 122), and Teitler (2017, 87–89). Kötting (1965, 32) and Von Stritzky (2000, 1401) present the Theodoret account as this is known from Sozomen, without providing any explicit verdict as to this tradition’s reliability. In the Latin hagiographical texts, Theodoret is not said to be safeguarding the holy vessels of the church of Antioch that are desecrated by the comes; indeed, in passion BHG 2425 the latter immediately seizes the sacred furnishings and gold offerings before the saint makes his appearance (Halkin 1986a, 125). Following Franchi de Cavalieri (1920, 60–62, 66 and 86), Scorza Barcellona (1995, 76) observes that the author of the passion is seeking to present Theodoret as a martyr of the faith, and thus downplaying the importance of the ecclesiastical riches which he faithfully safeguards; therefore, Sozomen depends on a significantly different text from that which lies behind the various passions known to us, or on an oral tradition. See Franchi de Cavalieri (1920, 73). Halkin (1986a, 137). In the dedication of Contra Iulianum Cyril writes that, according to some Christians, the emperor knows the Holy Scriptures (Riedweg 2016, 9). Halkin (1986a, 123–125). Van den Gheyn (1900, 313). Devos (1967, 224). Halkin (1986a, 137). Halkin (1986a, 131). In or. 4.79 and 4.38 (Bernardi 1983, 202 and 138); see also or. 4.57.1 (Bernardi 1983, 162). See also John Chrysostom’s oration In Iuventinum et Maximinum martyres CPG 4349 = BHG 975 (Rambault 2018, 182); John Chrysostom repeats the same verdict in other hagiographical texts, such as De s. hieromartyre Babyla 3 CPG 4347 = BHG 207 (Schatkin 1990, 298), in Contra Judaeos et gentiles CPG 4326 (PG 48, 835), in Adversus Judaeos V CPG 4327 (PG 48, 900), and in Expositio in psalmum CX 4 (PG 55, 285; CPG 4413). What instead appears to be original is Theodoret’s definition of the Apostate as a “beastly and inhuman soul” (Halkin 1986a, 137). See Scicolone (1982, 71–80) on Julian and the word “Galilaeans”. PG 92, 745–749. Significantly, the chronicler does not copy the section from Malalas concerning the victories that Julian achieved in Persia before his death. Julian had previously been mentioned for the first time in relation to his appointment as Caesar and marriage with Helen, Constantius II’s sister (PG 92, 732–733), and then in relation to Constantius II’s death in the wake of Julian’s rebellion (PG 92, 737 BC). PG 92, 740 A (transl. in Whitby 1989, 36). The list of martyrs deriving from the Homoean sources (see Brennecke 1988, 131) is integrated with the subsequent mentioning of the various places and sites in which many other Christians became confessors of the faith (PG 92, 745AB). PG 92, 741BC. With regard to the following year, the chronicler continues to follow the Homoean source by recounting the divine punishment of the apostates

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2 14 215 216 217 218 219

220

Theotecnus and Heron, which is set in contrast to the future emperor Valentinian’s perseverance in the Christian faith. The chronicler also describes the only anti-Christian actions that are not blamed on an anonymous pagan crowd: Aemilianus’ death is attributed to the vicarius Capitolinus, and the beheading of Arthemius to Julian himself (PG 92, 745A). This last piece of information may possibly derive from the Homoean source (see Brennecke 1988, 127–131). As far as Arthemius is concerned, the chronicler seems to allude to a regular death sentence, in contrast to the riots described in relation to the previous year. Nautin (1994, 213–243) and Hansen (1995b, X–XVII) on Theodorus Lector’s work. According to Delacenserie (2017, 415–444), Theodore is a rather original author and not a mere compiler of previous sources. The Epitome was widely known by Byzantine chroniclers (see Hansen 1995b, XXIX–XXXIX; Wallraff/Stutz/Marinides 2017, L–LIII) and was also used in the Synodicon vetus (a history of the councils), written around the year 900 (see Duffy/Parker 1979, xiii–xiv). See Hansen (1995b, XXXIX). Hansen (1995b, 55). This addition confirms the analysis of Pouderon (2014, 527–545), according to whom the epitomiser made certain choices independently of Theodore’s text. Hansen (1995b, 56). His source is Socrates III.1.8 (Hansen 1995a, 187). Epitome 120 (Hansen 1995b, 56). In particular, Socrates does not mention the episode of the failed construction, whereas Julian’s monastic tonsure and ordination as lector are mentioned in III.1.19–20 (given certain lexical similarities, the epitomiser is clearly drawing upon Socrates III.1.19), shortly before the description of Gallus’ appointment as Caesar in 351 (described in III.1.22). In Sozomen V.2.10 the two young brothers are assigned to the clergy’s ranks and said to read Scripture to the people while still in Macellum, in Cappadocia, where – according to V.2.12–13 – they also built a church. Julian’s monastic tonsure is instead mentioned in Sozomen V.2.17, a section recounting how, as an adult, Julian was led onto the path of apostasy by the philosopher Maximus. Theodoret H.E. III.2 describes the two brothers’ ordination as lectores and then Julian’s failure as a church-builder; however, no mention is made of the future Apostate’s tonsure. It is worth drawing a comparison with the Historia Tripartita by Epiphanius, who in the 6th century used Theodorus Lector’s work to perform a similar operation in Latin, yet without merely translating Theodorus’ Historia Tripartita into Latin (see Hanslik 1952, IX–XI and Mazza 1986, 341–349, according to whom Epiphanius faithfully follows Theodorus Lector up until half-way through the second book, but then often departs from him). In Historia Tripartita VI.1 Epiphanius translates Socrates III.1, which describes Julian’s youth, including his tonsure and office as lector in Nicomedia (Epiphanius VI.1.12), as well as Julian’s first measures as emperor (Epiphanius VI.1.30–41); then Epiphanius VI.2 returns to Julian’ s youth, translating the episode of the building of a church from Sozomen V.2. Epiphanius VI.1.1–3 is quite faithful to Epitome 118–119 (which in turn derives from Socrates III.1.6–8), and the sequence monklector-failed church-builder of Epitome 120 also occurs in Epiphanius VI.1–2, although here it is interspersed with the description of Julian’s first measures as emperor. This sequence may therefore possibly have also occurred in Theodorus Lector, but the correspondences between the Epitome of the Historia Tripartita and Epiphanius’ text are not all that close: Epitome 121 from Sozomen V.2.19 corresponds to Epiphanius VI.1.15, Epitome 122 from Sozomen V.2.1–2 corresponds to Epiphanius VI.2.1, and the reference to the bishops exiled by Constantius II is described in Epitome 123 on the basis of Socrates III.1.48,

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226 2 27 228

2 29 230

2 31 232 233 234

235

a passage which is translated by Epiphanius in VI.1.32, which is to say before the passage corresponding to Epitome 122. As far as the account of Julian’s life is concerned, then, Epiphanius can be of little help in reconstructing the Historia Tripartita. An analysis of the relationship between the subsequent sections of the Epitome and those of Epiphanius’ Historia Tripartita point to the same conclusion. Epitome 125 describes George of Cappadocia’s death and the corresponding passage is Epiphanius VI.9; Epitome 126 describes Julian’s measures against Caesarea in Cappadocia and the corresponding passage is Epiphanius VI.4.8–12: in other words, Epiphanius would not appear to be following the same order as the Epitome, either because – as already noted – from half-way through book 2 Epiphanius rewrites the Historia Tripartita, or because the same operation is also performed by the Greek epitomiser. Hansen (1995b, 56). Bidez (1960, 190). This is especially the case in or. 4.56, which describes Julian making his way up out of the cave in which his initiation has taken place (Bernardi 1983, 162). Parmentier (1998, 178). E.g. or. 4.92.5 in Epitome 126; 4.86–87 in 128; 4.82–84 in 137. Hansen (1995b, XXXIX) notes that among the various additions made to Theodorus Lector’s text by the compiler of the Epitome, we also find “Lesefrüchte”, most notably including Gregory of Nazianzus. PG 35, 1025. In De S. Babyla 119 John Chrysostom also writes that Julian was controlled by demons (Schatkin 1990, 260). Hansen (1995b, 58). Julian recalls from exile Aetius, Eunomius’ teacher and the founder of the Anomoean heresy (Epitome 129), expels Christians from schools (131), exiles Athanasius (132), and incites the citizens of Bostra against their new bishop (133), but the bloody events at Ascalon, Gaza, Heliopolis, Arethusa, and Alexandria are all blamed on the local inhabitants (128 and 134). Hansen (1995b, 59). Concerning this letter, see Bouffartigue (2005, 231–242). Sozomen V.16.4 justifies quoting the letter because, in his view, many might find it hard to believe that Julian adopted a policy of imitating Christianity (Bidez 1960, 217). Sozomen V.17 is also the source of the account according to which images of the gods were mingled with the imperial insignias and soldiers were forced to perform a sacrifice upon receipt of their wages (Epitome 136–137). Hansen (1995b, 60). See Sozomen V.19.17 (identified by Hansen 1995b, 60 as the source), Socrates III.18.2, and Theodoret H.E. III.10.2. By contrast, Theodorus Lector could read (in Socrates II.38.23–25 and III.11.3) that the emperor had ordered the reconstruction of churches. This might even be a polemical reversal of John of Antioch’s report that Jovian destroyed the temple which Hadrian had built in Antioch and which Julian had converted into a library (fr. 273 Roberto = 206 Mariev). In conjunction with Julian’s sojourn in Antioch, his plan to reconstruct the temple in Jerusalem is described (Epitome 145, da Sozomen V.22), along with the destruction of the statue of Christ in Paneas, in Chapter 142 (Hansen 1995b, 60). The source is Sozomen V.21.1–3 (Bidez 1960, 228); likewise, the descriptions of the miraculous spring in Nicopolis in Chapter 143 and of the miraculous tree in Hermopolis in Chapter 144 derive from Sozomen V.21.5–11. In Epitome 146, the description of Julian’s faith in oracles foretelling his victory at the time of embarking on the Persian campaign is drawn from Theodoret H.E. III.21.2, whose description of the oracle purportedly uttered by Ares is also quoted in full. The beginning of the chapter (kata Person estrateusen) possibly

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2 36 237 238 2 39 240 241 242

also echoes a passage (or. 5.8.3) from Gregory’s second invective against Julian (epi Persas strateuei in Bernardi 1983, 306), or a passage (or. 18.32) from Gregory’s funerary oration for his father (PG 35, 1025). Hansen (1995b, 61). Bidez (1960, 238). Theodoret Historia ecclesiastica III.21.4 (Parmentier 1998, 200); in his second invective against Julian, Gregory further stresses the concept by drawing upon the image of sacrifice to daemons (or. 5.9 in Bernardi 1983, 308 and 310). Hansen (1995b, 61). Hansen (1995b, 61). The source is Sozomen VI.2.13. In this last case, there may also be an influence from Gregory’s first invective (see or. 4.92). See Socrates III.12 and esp. Sozomen (V.4.6, V.4.9, V.11.12, V.15.8, V.17.1, and V.17.12).

V The blood of innocents “A great persecution against the Christians”

V.1 Condemnation and oblivion One generation after the Apostate’s death, around 390, St Jerome composed a Latin life of St Hilarion (BHL 3879) which enjoyed considerable popularity in the Byzantine world, as is attested by various translations and rewritings of it.1 In these hagiographical texts, in addition to the appearance of the topos of Julian as a persecutor, we also find the opposite phenomenon, namely the erasure of the figure of the Apostate. In St Jerome’s text, the pagans of Gaza destroy Hilarion’s monastery and ask Julian to sentence him to death. It is therefore the pagan city which gives rise to the persecution, and not the emperor, who is only mentioned again in relation to the news of his death, brought to Hilarion by his disciple Hadrian.2 According to Jerome, previously, during Constantius II’s reign, the saint had prophesied the destruction of churches and the shedding of Christians’ blood.3 In such a way, without distorting historical reality, the author gives the impression of an imminent persecution, seeking to exaggerate, for panegyrical purposes, the repercussions of Julian’s restoration for Palestinian Christianity.4 Some interesting changes are introduced in the subsequent Greek translations.5 The so-called Samos translation (BHG 751z = CPG 3630a) follows the Latin text faithfully; therefore, the Apostate’s name is not accompanied by insulting epithets (as is the case in other Greek translations).6 In another translation (BHG 753 = CPG 753.2) relatively close to Jerome’s Latin text, Julian, in addition is also presented as an “atheist” in addition to being the Apostate. Jerome’s narrative is essentially preserved, however, for in this text as well it is the inhabitants of Gaza who ask the emperor to sentence Hilarion to death.7 In one life (BHG 756e = CPG 3630c, very similar to BHG 753),8 Julian is called parabates.9 However, apart from this epithet, which was widespread in the Byzantine world, in this text as well we find no substantial changes compared to Jerome’s version. The life by Symeon the Metaphrast (BHG 755) seems like a paraphrase, if only a slightly abridged one, of life BHG 753.10 The Metaphrast also suggests

DOI: 10.4324/9781003179818-5

92  “A great persecution” that it was the inhabitants of Gaza who asked the emperor to sentence the saint to death; he seems to add only a verdict on Julian’s usurpation, which is described as impious.11 A post-Metaphrastic life (BHG 756 = CPG 3630c) was written by Neophytos of Cyprus, a monk who was born around 1134 and died shortly after 1214.12 According to French Strout, Neophytos’ sole source is the Metaphrast’s version,13 yet Julian does not appear and Hadrian is mentioned not because he announces the Apostate’s death (as in Jerome’s text), but because he shows himself to be a disloyal disciple.14 The Apostate’s fate here is therefore the opposite of what is reserved for him by most of the Greek hagiographical tradition: instead of making the figure of Julian even more negative, the hagiographer does not mention it at all. There may be various reasons for this. First of all, it is likely that Neophytos sought to present Hilarion’s flight from Gaza as a voluntary choice. The anachoretic life is a very important topic for this hagiographer, so much so that he wrote other lives in which a saint pursues a solitary existence, far from the crowd.15 Moreover, it is possible that the hagiographer, who wrote the life of Hilarion after the fall of Constantinople16 and the founding of the Latin Empire, was no longer interested in anti-pagan polemics, since the polemic against non-­Orthodox Christians was far more important for him.17 As has already been noted in relation to other hagiographical works by him,18 in rewriting Hilarion’s life Neophytos tends to abridge his source, and a mention of the Apostate would not have been very useful for the purpose of praising the anachoretic life or attacking the Latins. Therefore, the absence of Julian seems quite understandable. The emperor vanishes from the summaries provided in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion and Basil II’s menologion,19 probably because the compilers chose to focus on the essential aspects of the saint’s life rather than emphasising a detail. A similar change is found in a Greek life of Martin of Tours, who became famous through the Latin life (BHL 5610) in which Sulpicius Severus praised his pacifism. Martin, a soldier at the time when Julian was still Caesar in Gaul, requested permission to go on leave, just as war was about to be waged against the barbarians. Martin is portrayed as a Christian standing before a pagan persecutor,20 and Julian as a wrathful tyrant. When Martin offers to stand unarmed before the Roman army, however, the barbarians seek peace.21 In Gaul, the young prince’s apostasy was nevertheless only known to a few people close to him, and was only announced in 361, after Constantius II’s death. Sulpicius therefore distorts historical reality to exalt the saint from Tours as the Antony of the West. Just as in Vita Antonii 46 Athanasius had described the Egyptian ascetic’s challenge to Alexandria’s pagan magistrates, so Sulpicius represents the saint from Tours as Julian’s opponent in Vita Martini 4, alluding to the topoi of epic passions. The emperor is a cruel tyrannus22 and Martin, according to Sulpicius, undergoes bloodless martyrdom (a rather oxymoronic idea).23

“A great persecution”  93 A Greek life of St Martin (BHG 1181/1181b), which has sometimes erroneously been described as a translation of Sulpicius Severus’ Latin life,24 does not mention Julian at all. In this Greek life, Martin is a military saint ready to fight against vast barbarian hordes in defence of the Roman Empire under Gratian and Valentinian. In other words, this text offers a complete reversal of the Latin life BHL 5610, so much so that it has been described as a parody of Sulpicius Severus, possibly due to the Byzantine predilection for military saints.25 The author of this Greek life, who can be dated to the 8th or 9th century,26 was probably a Greek-Italian monk27 who only had indirect knowledge of Sulpicius Severus’ work28 and made free use of his own imagination. Still, this Greek life presents certain analogies with the original Latin text in which the saint, after donating half of his cloak to a beggar, clashes with Julian because he no longer wishes to fight. The Greek Martin is also unwilling to fight since he finds himself at a loss, having to lead the Roman army against a vast barbarian horde.29 The Latin Martin asks to stand, unarmed, between Julian’s army and that of the barbarian tribes; but before battle breaks out, the latter seek peace. The Greek Martin, after offering half his cloak to a beggar, dreams of Jesus, who promises him victory; the following day, the barbarians seek peace.30 The hagiographer either censors or ignores the confrontation between Martin and Julian. In the entry for 12 November in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion, which sums up the Greek life, St Martin is presented as a bishop in France and as a great general of Trajan’s day.31 In the entry found in Basil II’s menologion he is instead presented as a great general from Julian’s reign, but the emperor is neither criticised nor insulted: He was at first a Roman general at the time of the Emperor Julian. In war, seeing a boundless multitude of enemies, he experienced fear […]. After achieving victory, and having been received by the emperor, he gave thanks to God and became a monk. The emperor who receives the saint is not mentioned and the focus is on Martin, who, after being ordained bishop in Franghia (i.e. France), performs numerous miracles, even resurrecting someone who had died.32 At this stage in the Byzantine tradition Martin was therefore regarded as a general of Julian’s; the emperor, far from displaying any negative traits, actually welcomes Martin, who has vanquished the barbarians and is now eager to take up the monastic life. This apparent ignorance of the best-known feature of the figure of the Emperor Julian (his apostasy and hence anti-Christian policy) may be compared to a reference we find in the acts of the Ecumenical Council of Chalcedon (451) to the decree for the establishment of the city of Basilinopolis:33 here it is clear that, less than a century after Julian’s death, many people failed to realise that the Emperor Julian who had founded Basilinopolis was none other than the Apostate. It would therefore hardly be surprising if, after roughly half a millennium, some people were no longer

94  “A great persecution” able to correctly identify Martin’s emperor. A more erudite hagiographer may have corrected the first phase in the Byzantine tradition by assigning Martin (who died as an old man in 397) to a time not under Julian, but under subsequent emperors (as we find in the Greek life BHG 1181/1181b). Another hagiographer may instead have set Martin’s life back to Trajan’s day, possibly because of the homoteleuton between the two emperors’ names, or because he was familiar with the legend that Trajan was able to ascend into paradise thanks to Gregory the Great’s prayers and thus deemed him more suitable than Julian as an emperor. This last change is reflected by the entry for 12 November in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion.34 These hagiographical traditions therefore show little interest in the Apostate. In the case of the entry on Martin in Basil II’s menologion, what emerges is the opposite tendency compared to that prevalent in Byzantine hagiography, which models Julian after pre-Constantinian persecutors.35

V.2 Rewritings between history and legend Aemilianus, who probably belonged to the Homoean Church36 and was sentenced to death for the arson of a pagan temple in Moesia, is the protagonist of a passion known to us in several redactions (BHG 33, BHG 33a, BHG 33b, and BHG 33e) that derive from an ancient passion, now lost.37 Through the constant rewriting process – typical of hagiographical literature – across the various redactions of the passion, the emperor, who is only featured at the beginning,38 loses his distinctive historical character in almost all versions, since he is presented as an all-out persecutor. In accordance with the leitmotifs of hagiographical literature,39 he issues a persecution edict: “With an edict issued to all cities, Julian ordered that everyone, in every land, should torture with the utmost zeal and with every kind of torment anyone found to be a Christian and then put him to death” (BHG 33;40 a similar text may be found in BHG 33a).41 A different picture of Julian, as a conniver eager to come across as a merciful sovereign, is provided by another passion (BHG 33b): Seeing that the tyrants who had lived before him had not achieved any of their goals through cruelty and massacres […] on the one hand by covertly entrusting others with killing the pious in secret and, on the other, through deceptive speeches, allures, and promises of honour […] by both such means he sought to lead everyone towards his impious apostasy.42 This attitude is described by various Christian authors of the 4th and 5th centuries.43 The influence of Gregory of Nazianzus (or. 4.21), who had accused Caesar Julian of rebelling both against God and against Constantius II,44 may be detected in a passage in which Aemilianus’ hagiographer employs the epithet apostates.45 The first two chapters are clearly influenced by

“A great persecution”  95 Gregory’s reflection (or. 4.57–65), which portrays Julian as a deceiver who leaves it up to others to openly persecute Christians, feigning mercy. More specifically, in the first invective (as well as in or. 4.61) we find a passage (or. 4.85) in which Gregory describes the Apostate struggling to restrain himself and about to cross the boundary between hidden and openly professed persecution. To suggest the revealing of Julian’s real nature, the metaphor of nudity is employed, which we also find in the passion of Aemilianus.46 Here it is used with regard to governor Capitolinus, who has the duty of actually implementing the hypocritical emperor’s orders and of openly striking the Christians and anyone who fails to report them.47 Therefore, only one out of the many versions of the passion of hypocritical Aemilianus retains the memory of the peculiarity of Julian’s anti-­ Christian policy, either because it is the only redaction to retain this aspect of the ancient, lost passion, or because a hagiographer modified the text by adopting Gregory of Nazianzus’ approach.48 By contrast, in all the other versions Julian is reminiscent of all the other pagan emperors described in the hagiographical tradition. The hagiographical tradition about Mark of Arethusa provides another example of the emperor’s transfiguration. Mark, a Homoean bishop, had been praised by Gregory of Nazianzus (or. 4.88–91) and, later, Theodoret (H.E. III.7) who recounted the torture the bishop had undergone because of his refusal to contribute to the reconstruction of the pagan temple he had destroyed. Out of the three passions of Mark of Arethusa (BHG 2248, 2249, and 2250), two (BHG 2248 and 2250) derive almost word for word from Theodoret49 and concern not Mark’s case alone, but also the torturing of Cyril of Heliopolis and the events at Gaza and Ascalon.50 As we also read in Theodoret, Mark (in BHG 2248 and 2250) is tortured because the citizens of Arethusa want him to contribute to the reconstruction of the pagan temple he has demolished. Julian makes his appearance at the beginning of the two texts as the emperor seeking to restore the traditional cults. However, no mention is made of a persecution, although the emperor is called a tyrant and (BHG 2248)51 impious (BHG 2250).52 Therefore, while hostile, Julian’s portrait is not wholly distorted. Conversely, the 11th-century Imperial Menologion adopts a different tone right from the start: “The impious Julian carried out a vast persecution against the Christians”,53 leading to the arrest of the saint, who is brought before a magistrate.54 However, owing to a lacuna in the manuscript, the ending of this text (BHG 2249) is unknown and therefore it is impossible to establish whether the emperor was completely identified with pre-Constantinian persecutors or not. The same fluctuation also marks the tradition about Basil, the presbyter from Ancyra. Sozomen (V.11.9–11) is the first author to mention his martyrdom, which is also described in two other passions (BHG 242 and 243).55 The earlier one (BHG 242) is summed up in the entry for 22 March in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion.56 A more recent redaction is attested by the passion

96  “A great persecution” written by John Hagioelites (BHG 243)57 and by the entries for January 1 (or 2) in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion and in Basil II’s menologion.58 The figure of the Apostate is presented from an increasingly hostile perspective in the subsequent versions of this tradition. In describing Basil’s martyrdom, Sozomen (V.11.7) mentions Julian only as a chronological point of reference. By contrast, in the passions the emperor also questions the martyr, although in one (BHG 242) we still find considerable differences compared to the figure of a cruel persecutor found in epic passions. Finally, the passion by John Hagioelites (BHG 243) provides a more extensive description of tortures and torments.59 The first passion (BHG 242) does not mention any persecution or miracles, and Basil is said to have undergone a lashing rather than fanciful forms of torture. The saint is not killed by explicit order of the emperor, but dies as a consequence of the constant torments inflicted upon him by Frumentinus, a minister of Julian’s. Furthermore, unlike the epic passions, Basil does not insult the emperor at first; indeed, during the first interrogation he states he does not wish to offend him.60 He criticises Julian for his apostasy61 and ingratitude,62 and prophesies the emperor’s death and lack of burial, yet without hurling any insults.63 The figure of Julian is likewise very different from that of the ‘wicked’ persecutor we find in epic passions. As soon as he learns about Basil’s arrest, the emperor dispatches some apostates in an effort to lead Basil to abandon Christianity as well. Julian tells Basil that he is familiar with the Christian religion64 and does not order the saint to be executed or punished in any other way. In the passion by John Hagioelites (BHG 243), some evident differences emerge. A persecution edict drives Christians into hiding,65 the debate between the saint and the Apostate’s minister Saturninus is typical of epic passions, and Basil, who is dispatched to Constantinople, insults Julian as an impious tyrant and apostate.66 Finally, after enduring days of torture, the saint throws a piece of meat at the emperor: “take and eat, impure dog, blood-drinking wolf, insatiable and impure boar; the flesh and blood of men are food and dissoluteness to you”. Basil is then cast into an oven from which he is saved by a miraculous intervention; he is finally sent off to Caesarea,67 where he is flung into the hippodrome and killed by a lioness. The persecution, the stress on torture, the miracle at Constantinople, and the insults are all typical of epic passions. Nevertheless, certain traits of the historical Julian remain: his apostasy and the name (“Galilaeans”) by which the pagans constantly refer to the Christians, because – as John Hagioelites explains – this is what the emperor had decreed.68 This is almost an antiquarian detail inserted within a passion rich in topoi common to hagiographical narratives which turns the original redaction into a fictional account: an example of the tendency to substitute a fanciful, imaginary Julian for the one described, albeit in hostile terms, by late-antique Christian writers. The same kind of ambiguity is found in the tradition – also known to John Malalas69 – about Dometius, the Persian ascetic who lived in a cave near Cyrrhus (in Syria), and who was killed on Julian’s orders just after his

“A great persecution”  97 departure from Antioch to embark on the Persian campaign. This saint is also the focus of a lengthy life (BHG 560)70 that only features Julian towards the end, in an ambiguous role. On the one hand, the hagiographer writes that Christians are being persecuted,71 while on the other he presents the saint’s death as resulting from his enemies’ machinations.72 Furthermore, the author does not conceal the Apostate’s skill and versatility in luring wavering Christians through enticements, promises, and gifts.73 However, a persecution is also evoked when the emperor makes his last appearance, without any mention of his imminent death.74 Julian, therefore, does not yet appear as a consistent and ruthless persecutor, except when he first bursts onto the stage and when he makes his exit.75 Scholars have posited a Homoean origin for the tradition about the Persian Dometius,76 but it is likely that this legend first emerged sometime after the mid-5th century. Around that time, Theodoret of Cyrrhus, who certainly did not hesitate to make the most of Syria’s Christian traditions, never mentions this saint, who was an object of veneration in Antioch in the 6th century.77 The Vita Dometii (BHG 560) derives from the tradition about a medical saint of the same name (BHO 263),78 in turn deriving from the tradition about the saints Cosmas and Damian. By presenting Dometius as a martyr who died under Julian, his hagiographer ensured the saint’s chronological priority over the physician Dometius, whose life is set under Valens.79 The strange fate of the Persian Dometius, who according to Malalas was walled up alive in his cave, would appear to have been modelled after the physician Dometius’ life: his opponents attempted to burn him alive after walling him in.80 In the surviving passions,81 by contrast, the Persian is stoned. In Malalas’ account (XIII.20),82 Julian invites Dometius to abide by his idea of the ascetic life by turning away the throngs of Christians who are wont to visit his cave. When the monk replies that he cannot drive the devotees away, the emperor orders him to be walled up alive, as though to fulfil his ascetic ideal: an extreme example of Julian’s tendency to present his measures as a perfect application of Christian morality.83 The tradition followed by Malalas would thus appear to have grasped and sought to exacerbate a particular aspect of the Apostate’s anti-Christian policy in an attempt to invent or confirm a tradition about a saint whose martyrdom at the hands of a pagan needed to be recorded. The redevelopment of Dometius’ tale in Byzantine liturgical books instead went hand-in-hand with a complete transformation of the figure of Julian into that of a persecutor. Dometius is presented in two entries of the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion, both of which only feature Julian towards the end, when, after learning about Dometius’ conversion of various pagans, he orders the saint’s execution.84 This represents a first step in the transformation of the emperor’s memory, a transformation completed by the epitomes (BHG 561 and 561a) included in the Imperial Menologion which portray Julian in even gloomier tones, as the person responsible for a widespread persecution (cf. Chapter VIII).

98  “A great persecution”

V.3 Imaginative fiction and the (almost) complete disappearance of the historical Julian V.3.1  A “Julianist” saint In a passion (BHG 1429) of little historical worth,85 the Egyptian saints Patermutius and Copres (characters from Historia monachorum in Aegypto 10)86 are presented as martyrs of Julian’s persecution. This passion opens with a short description of Julian’s reign in which mention is made of the death and exiling of many saints, yet without ever referring to a persecution edict.87 A “relentless persecution” launched against the Christians by the emperor is instead what the elderly Patermutius explicitly describes to his 45-year-old disciple Copres.88 The two men are reported to the authorities and dragged before Julian, who find himself in Egypt (a place he never actually visited). In line with a hagiographical topos,89 the persecutor tempts the younger Copre, who is deemed weaker, with promises of wealth and fame: the emperor, who died at the age of 32, states that he is older than the 45-year-old Copres. However, we also find some realistic details: Julian does not conceal his Christian past, and the term “Galilaean” is used. Copres eventually yields and performs a sacrifice to Apollo, declaring himself a “Julianist” on two occasions,90 but Patermutius persuades him to return to Christianity and to recant his apostasy: “I am not a Julianist, but a Christian”.91 In accordance with the topoi of epic passions, this is followed by the emperor’s wrath, tortures, miracles, the conversion of a pagan, and Patermutius’ prophecy about the Apostate’s imminent death in a foreign land.92 This passion therefore adds certain peculiarities, including ones related to Julian, to the topoi of epic passions. Particularly noteworthy is the use of the term “Julianist”, which does not occur anywhere else in Greek literature with this meaning:93 the contrast between “Christian” and “Julianist” expressed by Copres’ words marks a contrast between God and the Apostate that lends the latter a degree of greatness, albeit of a negative sort. Conversely, the martyrs who fall victim to his persecution also acquire prestige, which may be why the hagiographer came up with the idea of Julian’s sojourn in Egypt. However, he did not forget the emperor’s Christian past and eagerness to label his religious enemies as “Galilaeans”. The mention of Copres and Patermutius in the Historia monachorum in Aegypto therefore provided an opportunity to create a passion that was less conventional than most. The figure of the Apostate in this passion shares certain traits common to all persecutors and to various other representations of Julian in Greek hagiography (as is shown by the mention of his Christian past). However, it also displays a remarkable persuasiveness which leads a monk to abjure his faith and to profess himself a “Julianist”, if only temporarily. This rare word used in the passion has been preserved in the summaries included in liturgical books:94 evidence of the remarkable appeal exercised within this hagiographical tradition by the figure of the Apostate, who – through

“A great persecution”  99 the unique denomination chosen by his temporary disciple – is regarded as the alternative to Christ. V.3.2  The violation of the ius gentium Three Persian brothers (Manuel, Sabel, and Ishmael), Christian ambassadors to the King of Persia, were tortured and killed by Julian according to a pre-Metaphrastean passion (BHG 1023),95 which opens with a persecution edict issued by the Apostate.96 Another apocryphal document from Julian, a letter to the Persian king, introduces the tale of the three saints, who were arrested for refusing to following Julian to a pagan temple.97 The topoi of epic passions (the persecutor’s wrath,98 debates, insults, tortures, miracles, and the death of the saints) is combined with a single allusion to the emperor’s Christian past.99 After resuming the war, the Apostate achieves victory in Persia thanks to the valour of the Christian soldiers in his army: the passion opens with a persecution and paradoxically ends with a description of a victorious Christian army under the pagan persecutor’s command. Finally, Julian dies mysteriously, struck down by divine punishment.100 Julian initially appears like any other persecuting emperor, and his confrontation with the enemy sovereign, who is presented in respectful terms, makes his figure even gloomier.101 However, the mention of his Christian past, while possibly derived from another epic passion (that of Cyriacus), introduces an element foreign to the prevailing tendency in hagiographical narratives. Moreover, the description of the death of Julian, who is directly struck down by divine punishment (and not through St Mercurius, as in other legends)102 after his victory against the Persians, in a way increases the Apostate’s stature, as for instance compared to Gregory of Nazianzus’ description.103 The passion of Manuel, Sabel, and Ishmael is one of the few texts concerning martyrs sub Iuliano redeveloped by Symeon the Metaphrast (BHG 1024).104 This redevelopment is evident right from the historical introduction,105 which sets the pagan-born persecutors in contrast to the Christian-born ­persecutor – a concept that is not new in hagiographical literature. The Metaphrast, however, stands out on account of the length and accuracy of the sentence that develops this concept.106 In presenting the emperor, the redevelopment is based on the elimination of some of the more unlikely details, as well as on the use of Gregory of Nazianzus,107 from whom the Metaphrast derives not merely a specific piece of information, but also the animus through which he interprets them, as has already been noted with regard to other lives, including non-Julianean ones.108 For example, in stressing how Julian is already universally known and hated (with reference to the whole previous literature by the Fathers of the Church and hagiographers), and that he is second to none when it comes to devising wicked deeds,109 he is quite

100  “A great persecution” plainly following Gregory.110 Julian’s war against Constantius II and apostasy are described111 by combining two passages from Gregory, one from the first invective against Julian (or. 4.46) and the other from the funerary oration for Athanasius (or. 21.32).112 Even in the description of the Apostate’s feigned good will, we find an evident allusion to Gregory’s invectives.113 The use of different orations by Gregory is even more evident in the description of Julian’s anti-Christian policy. The Metaphrast does not explicitly speak of persecution, as is the case in the pre-Metaphrastean passion, but he writes that the emperor’s plan to lead all Christians into apostasy exposes many to torments: the reader or listener of the text can therefore easily be led to include the Apostate among the persecutors.114 Besides, towards the end the Metaphrast seems to allude to the persecution which, according to 4th- and 5th-century authors,115 Julian planned to launch after his Persian campaign: it is quite clear, then, why the Metaphrast does not explicitly mention persecution. This faithfulness to Gregory is also evident towards the end of the account about Julian, in form as much as content. The Metaphrast ends his narrative with an account of the Persian war, thereby completely reversing the narrative of the previous passion, which spoke of Julian’s victory as resulting from the valour of his Christian soldiers, and as having been followed by the emperor’s death through a heavenly blow. The Metaphrast follows Gregory of Nazianzus’ model in his lexical choices116 as well as in his contemptuous verdict about the shameful Roman defeat, which was not caused by divine intervention: “The impious one, shamefully defeated, justly received a blow to his innards, making him an object of mockery by the demons that had deceived him and for Christians”.117 The aim is clear enough: to avoid bestowing any greatness on Julian, albeit of a negative sort.118 It is also possible to detect the influence of other authors. The Metaphrast’s Julian recalls his own Christian past in a clause that is far more complex than that used in the pre-Metaphrastean passion, and possibly also with an allusion to the first fragment of the anti-Christian treatise written by the emperor and known to us through Cyril of Alexandria’s refutation.119 The name of the Persian king (not Baltanos as in the pre-Metaphrastean passion, but Alamundaros) may also have been borrowed from late-antique historians. Alamundaros is the Greek form of the name of some 5thand 6th-­c entury Arab sovereigns. More specifically, al-Mundhir III, the Lakhmid king between 505 and 554 who was an ally of the Persians in their war against the Eastern Roman Empire, but who is described as a Christian by some Byzantine chroniclers,120 may have served as a model for the king described by the Metaphrast, who was eager to eliminate the more fanciful names found in the pre-Metaphrastean passion.121 Generally speaking, then, while preserving some of the topoi of hagiography (debates, insults, torture, and miracles), the Metaphrast introduces several changes, particularly at the beginning and end of his text, probably in order to make certain aspects of the pre-Metaphrastean passion less ­unlikely – for example, by giving the Persian king who is Julian’s enemy the

“A great persecution”  101 name of a pro-Persian Saracen king attested by many sources. Moreover, he does not explicitly mention any persecution or the Apostate’s victory in the Persian campaign, whereas he does refer to his Christian past. These changes do not disprove the weight of the topoi of epic passions, but nonetheless bear witness to an intention to do away with some of the most evident hagiographical fancies. To this end, the Metaphrast chiefly draws upon the writings of 4th- and 5th-century Christian authors, starting from Gregory of Nazianzus, in whose work the deformation of the Apostate’s figure had not yet reached the point of complete assimilation with pre-Constantinian persecuting emperors. V.3.3  The slayer of a dragon-slayer According to one passion (BHG 2460), a saint from Prusa (in Bithynia) by the name of Timothy freed the region from an evil dragon under Julian’s reign. Informed of the miracle, the emperor “unjustly had the just one beheaded”.122 In the Byzantine Middle Ages, Timothy was chiefly venerated in Prusa, and entries in synaxaria present him as the bishop of that city.123 His cult also flourished for a short time in the 10th century, when his relics were translated to Constantinople.124 The tradition about St Timothy is clearly influenced by a topos (the slaying of an evil dragon),125 and would appear to derive from that about another saintly bishop of Prusa, attested by passions that largely overlap (BHG 1432 and 1432a). Timothy’s hagiographer as well as Patrick’s – but especially the latter – focus on Prusa’s baths,126 which were still appreciated in the Byzantine age:127 it is there that the governor Julius tries to force Patrick into apostasy. The figure of this Julius would appear to derive from the passion of Pionius (BHG 1546),128 in which the persecutor is a certain Julius who is rightly given the title of proconsul – for the tale is set in the province of Asia, whose governor bore this title. The Bithynian Julian is instead called first a proconsul and then consularis.129 Just as the Julius who persecutes Patrick is based on Pionius’ persecutor, it may be that in writing the passion of Timothy of Prusa – about whom practically nothing was known – the hagiographer drew inspiration from the passion of another saint from the same city, Patrick. The name of this saint’s persecutor may have inspired the chronological setting of Timothy’s martyrdom sub Iuliano; indeed, it is possible that the wicked man’s name in one of the redactions of St Patrick’s passion was precisely Julian.130 However, the hagiographer’s main interest clearly lies in the figure of the saint; hence, the emperor is an evanescent “villain” who only makes his appearance at the beginning, to provide a chronological frame for the narrative, and at the end, to bestow the title of martyr on Timothy. V.3.4  Saints exiled to the desert Eugenius and Macarius are the protagonists of a Greek passion written before the 9th century,131 in which they confront Julian before being exiled

102  “A great persecution” to Mauritania. They are further featured in the passions of Artemius (see Chapter VII), who, according to tradition, was arrested for siding with them in Antioch. The passion of Eugenius and Macarius is known from two largely overlapping redactions (BHG 2126 and 2127). It is also summed up in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion and in Basil II’s menologion,132 with a few differences.133 The event is presented in very different terms in the earlier passion of Artemius (BHG 169), which is set in Antioch. Here the two saints are presented as presbyters who are exiled by Julian to a place called Augasis, where they die after 40 days.134 Because of these discrepancies135 between the so-called Mauritanian tradition (represented by BHG 2126 and 2127) and the Antiochene one (represented by the passion of Artemius BHG 169), various hypotheses about the origin of the saints’ cults have been formulated.136 The word zelos (a key term in Homoean martyrologies), used at the beginning of the passion of Eugenius and Macarius BHG 2126 to explain their presence before Julian,137 has been regarded as evidence of the Homoean origin of two saints’ veneration.138 Besides, it has been argued that the connection with the tale of Artemius was introduced to credit the latter with a meritorious deed of which no mention was made in previously available sources.139 Julian is portrayed as any other persecuting emperor: he orders various tortures and is repeatedly insulted.140 Nevertheless, mention of his apostasy (and hence of his uniqueness among anti-Christian emperors) is made in one of the many reproaches directed at him: “Emperor, do not grieve for us, but rather for yourself, since you have ruined yourself by abandoning almighty God and His son Jesus Christ”.141 This recollection of Julian’s apostasy, however, is not very prominent in the subsequent description of tortures, debates, insults, and miracles. Here the peculiarities of the Apostate’s personality and of his anti-Christian policy vanish, as does the two martyrs’ presumed membership in the Homoean Church.

V.4 Greek translations of Latin passions In early medieval Italy, several Latin hagiographical texts were translated into Greek. Among these are two passions (those of John and Paul and of Gordian) that bear witness to a specific aspect of the fictional Julian in the Byzantine world, even though they never enjoyed much circulation. The legend of John and Paul, which is filled with unlikely descriptions and contradictions,142 was probably first established in the 6th century.143 According to their passion, which is known from several redactions (BHL 3238–3242)144 and was very popular in Western Europe, the two saints were secretly killed and buried in their home on the Caelian Hill by orders of Julian the Apostate. When Jovian ascended the throne, the church still bearing their name was reportedly built over their tomb. The Greek translation (BHG 2191) of a redaction of the Latin passion would appear to have circulated only in Italy, given the absence of any references

“A great persecution”  103 to saints John and Paul in Byzantine liturgical books.145 The translator knew neither Latin nor Greek very well, judging from his numerous errors, and composed his work for the Greek-speaking community in Rome.146 He used the second redaction of the Latin passion,147 but made several changes.148 As regards the figure of Julian in the passion of John and Paul, in a structural analysis based on Propp’s model Bundy describes the passion’s three narrative lines: the tale of Gallicanus, which is the dominant one; that of Constantia; and finally, that of her father Constantine. Within these ­narrative lines we find some auxiliary elements, inserted at particularly significant moments:149 for example, the city of Alexandria and the figures of Helen, Hilarinus, and Julian, who is not presented as Constantine’s antithesis, but rather used by the hagiographer to link the various functions and lend pathos to the tale of Gallicanus, a martyr like John and Paul.150 Indeed, in the Greek translation of the passion, Julian only appears in the second half of the narrative: the editor subdivided the passion into 14 chapters and the Apostate only makes an appearance in the eighth, whereas Gallicanus, Constantine, and Constantia enter the stage in the first and John and Paul in the fifth. After seizing all the Christians’ properties,151 Julian orders Gallicanus, who had given all his wealth to the poor, to either perform a sacrifice to the gods or go into exile. The emperor then seems to leave the stage, but in the ninth chapter the author mentions Julian’s rise to power again. In this passage, he is presented with a negative epithet (“most impious”),152 the only one found in the passion, which elsewhere only refers to him as “Caesar” or “the sovereign”.153 Julian quotes a passage from Luke’s Gospel (14:33) to justify his desire to strip Christians of their wealth: “In your Gospels Christ teaches: ‘Those of you who do not give up everything you have cannot be my disciples’”.154 When he learns that John and Paul provide for many poor people with the treasures bequeathed to them by Constantia, Julian invites them to join him. After a lengthy praise of Constantine and his Christian relatives, the two saints criticise Julian’s apostasy and justify their withdrawal to a private life.155 Hence, they do not explicitly set Constantine’s choice in contrast to Julian’s, unlike the protagonists of other passions (see Chapter VII). Likewise, the emperor replies by making a boast of his active life and rejection of an ecclesiastical career: “I too once held the rank of a clergyman in the Church and, had I wished to, I would have attained the highest echelon in the Church”.156 In the following section of the passion, Julian orders Terentian to execute John and Paul, and then Crispus, Crispinian, and Benedicta, who had found out about the two saints’ tragic deaths. Julian dies in Persia, where he is flayed alive, in accordance with a tradition also attested in the Latin West by other texts in addition to the passion of John and Paul.157 In the redaction of cod. Vat. Gr. 1608, the passion ends with Terentian’s conversion after the miraculous healing of his son, whereas in cod. Vat. Gr. 866 Julian kills Terentian after his conversion, which however is said to have occurred under Julian’s successor158 – an inconsistency probably derived from the use of two different redactions of the Latin passion.

104  “A great persecution” The Apostate therefore plays the role of the “villain” responsible for a series of executions performed in an atmosphere that nonetheless is never explicitly presented as one of persecution. Indeed, John and Paul’s execution is kept secret, and Crispus, Crispinian, and Benedicta are only arrested after they discover the truth about the saints’ fate. The passion translated into Greek presents various topoi of the epic passions: the emperor does not issue any persecution edicts or resort to tortures, and the saints do not insult the persecutor: John and Paul explain that they do not wish to earn Julian’s friendship to avoid divine disfavour;159 Benedicta uses harsher tones, but only insults the pagan gods, not the Apostate.160 In another Latin passion translated into Greek, that of Gordian (the earliest redaction of which is BHL 3612),161 the protagonist, Julian’s vicarius, is converted, along with his wife Marina, by a priest named Januarius. For this reason, he is then beheaded on by order of the tribune Clementianus and secretly buried by the Christians near St Epimachus’ remains. In the translation as well (the Greek passion BHG 2165),162 Julian shares the role of the “villain” with Clementianus. We again find numerous topoi of epic passions: the arrest of numerous Christians (which presupposes a persecution, although this is not explicitly mentioned), tortures, and finally, the emperor’s wrath upon learning about Gordian’s conversion.163 The pair of saints, Gordian and Epimachus, are also found in Basil II’s menologion164 and in two entries in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion.165 Therefore, their cult, unlike that of John and Paul, must have reached Byzantium.166 However, Julian does not appear in the entries for Gordian and Epimachus in Basil II’s menologion or in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion, where we read that the two saints were tried together. In these texts, the persecutor is not the emperor: in Basil II’s menologion this role is played by the prefect,167 in the first entry in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion,168 and in the second, shorter one169 by the governor. It thus seems as though a passion was circulating in the Byzantine world that has not reached us, in which the protagonists Epimachus and Gordian were tortured and then beheaded after a confrontation on the orders of a prefect or governor.170 This antagonist of the saints overshadowed the figure of Julian (possibly assigning him an even more marginal role than the one he plays in passion BHG 2165), or even removed it completely. Therefore, if we assume there is a link between these entries and the Greek passion BHG 2165,171 we must conclude that the tradition about Gordian and Epimachus witnessed by Greek liturgical books represents a further example (alongside the life of Hilarion BHG 756 and that of Martin BHG 1181/1181b) of the limited interest in the Apostate’s figure, which led to its disappearance.

V.5 The black legend in chronicles V.5.1 Theophanes Theophanes’ Chronographia172 provides a year-by-year account of the events pertaining to the period between Diocletian’s reign and the early

“A great persecution”  105 9th century, according to a chronology that begins with the creation of the world (Anno Mundi).173 Julian’s anti-Christian policy174 is mentioned for the first time in the narrative about Diocletian’s persecution, in relation to Dorotheus of Tyre. Theophanes anticipates that the saint exercised his pastoral duties up until the reign of the “impious tyrant” Julian, the perpetrator of a secret persecution: his agents are responsible for torturing the martyr to death.175 Apart from this episode, Theophanes’ representation of Julian essentially derives from the Epitome of Ecclesiastical Histories (CHAP 593), with the addition of information drawn from the Homoean source.176 The description of the massacre of 337, which Julian only escaped because of his tender age,177 is derived from Epitome 119:178 the fleeting reference to Julian’s youth – a lector, the builder of a church, and finally a monk179 – is based on Epitome 120, while the information about the intercession of Constantius II’s wife Eusebia in favour of Julian180 is derived from Epitome 121. Up until this point, the Epitome is Theophanes’ source for Julian (except as far as the tradition about Dorotheus of Tyre is concerned). The account of Julian’s appointment as Caesar and of his marriage with Constantine’s sister Helen would instead appear to be derived from the Homoean source.181 According to Bidez,182 the same source is the basis of Theophanes’ account of the Apostate’s victories in Gaul and Constantius II’s death.183 For the period after Julian’s rise to power, Theophanes returns to using the Epitome of Ecclesiastical Histories as his main source,184 while apparently adding some personal evaluations. Theophanes begins his description of events for A.M. 5853 with what appears to be a second introduction to Julian’s reign (after the initial one provided at the end of the account of the previous year): “After attaining the highest authority because of the amount of our sins, Julian the Transgressor became emperor”.185 The remark about the Christians’ sins is an addition of Theophanes’,186 who was possibly influenced by Gregory, according to whom the divine will had made the Apostate’s reign possible in order to punish Christians for their sins (or. 4.14). The chronicler then recounts that on his deathbed, Constantius II repented for the 337 massacre, his adherence to Arianism, and his choice to share his imperial power with Julian.187 This alleged threefold repentance of Constantius II’s is derived, either directly or indirectly, from Gregory of Nazianzus,188 and precedes what is de facto a third introduction – possibly attesting to the mingling of different sources. Theophanes here outlines the various manifestations of divine wrath that struck the Roman Empire when Julian came to power. In this case, the author draws upon the beginning of the second-to-last Chapter (149) of the Julian section in the Epitome of Ecclesiastical Histories.189 At the outset of his description of Julian’s reign, Theophanes mentions the emperor’s recalling of the bishops exiled by Constantius II and his subsequent purging of the court and strict policy of cutting down superfluous spending.190 The source used is the beginning of the Julian section of the Epitome, 123–124. Theophanes then combines information derived from the

106  “A great persecution” Homoean source with information drawn from the Epitome.191 However, he also adds the summary of the entry for St Dorotheus presented earlier,192 as though he or the editor of the Chronographia had rearranged various sheets of information. The information derived from the Epitome is sometimes summarised,193 sometimes altered, as in the case of the Paneas events, the Nicopolis spring, and the tree in the Egyptian city of Hermopolis,194 where it is as though Theophanes sought to emphasise Julian’s responsibility more. In Epitome 142, with regard to the desecration of the Jesus statue in Paneas we read that Julian authorised the action (perpetrated by local pagans),195 whereas according to Theophanes Julian actually ordered the desecration on account of his envy of the miraculous power of the herb growing under the statue.196 Most significantly, Theophanes completely departs from the previous tradition in reporting that Julian ordered a miraculous spring to be blocked up.197 Nothing of the sort is to be found in Theophanes’ source, Epitome 143, or even in the text from which the latter derives, namely Sozomen V.21. Theophanes therefore broadens the list of Julian’s impieties according to a tendency that was far from unusual in the Byzantine Middle Ages.198 In the case of the account about Paneas, he may have drawn upon a tradition that is also detectable in the Parastaseis, which in Chapter 48 presents plenty of analogies – including lexical analogies – with Theophanes’ account.199 Theophanes continues to follow the Homoean source in recounting the confession of faith made by the future emperors Valentinian and Jovian, the death of Artemius and Aemilianus, the divine punishment of the apostates Theotecnus and Heron, and other miraculous events,200 as well as in describing Julian’s death, which follows the emperor’s vain search for oracles (which all prove misleading).201 Theophanes, however, adds certain details to stress the Apostate’s total defeat and impiety. For instance, he recalls that Cyril “splendidly” refuted Julian’s treatise Contra Galilaeos.202 Towards the end of the Julian section, Theophanes returns to the Epitome, by mentioning first the misleading oracle (from Chapter 146); then the Antiochenes’ protests against the Apostate, the composing of the Misopogon, and the torturing of the confessor Theodore (from Chapter 140); and finally the emperor’s threat to lash out against the Christians even more harshly upon his return from Persia (from Chapter 47).203 Theophanes ends the Julian section by borrowing the description of the discovery of the human sacrifices performed by the Apostate in Carrhae and Antioch from Chapter 150.204 All in all, then, to the material drawn from the Epitome of Ecclesiastical Histories Theophanes adds information from the Homoean source, with a special focus on instances of impiety and desecration. The way he arranges this information makes for an even gloomier portrayal of Julian than the one we find in the Epitome. First of all, by anticipating the date of the tragic fate of the centenarian Dorotheus, which had already been assigned a much earlier date,205 Theophanes heightens the impression that this was a grim period of persecution for the Church. Furthermore, the information about ­Julian as sole emperor is divided across the years 5853, 5854, and 5855 (since Creation), to which the author adds – at the end of the year 5852 – a first

“A great persecution”  107 introduction to the figure of Julian as the only emperor to have reverted to paganism. However, as already noted, the seriousness of the situation is further stressed by two more introductions at the beginning of the year 5853 (in the first, Julian is called parabates, and in the second apostates; the author switches between these two epithets later on as well). Theophanes, then, seems to double the actual duration of Julian’s reign: from little more than a year and a half to three and a half years.206 Although he never explicitly speaks of a persecution in relation to these three years, and indeed recalls that Julian reacted like a philosopher to Bishop Maris’ insults, he notes that as early as the first year of the emperor’s reign, after George’s murder in Alexandria, many other Christians were crucified and slaughtered.207 Likewise, in relation to the third year of Julian’s reign, after providing a short list of confessors and martyrs, Theophanes adds that many others distinguished themselves by proclaiming their Christian faith.208 In both these cases, the information is drawn from the Homoean source, whereas in describing the end of the Apostate’s three-year reign Theophanes – as already mentioned – borrows the descriptions of human sacrifices from the conclusion of the Julian section of the Epitome, giving the reader the impression that this was a time of persecution and massacres. My analysis confirms what Ljubarskij had already noted in relation to other parts of the chronicler’s work. By combining excerpts from various authors and establishing new connections between old elements (a technique known as “mosaicking”), Theophanes creates a new narrative context.209 He thus offers the reader an interpretation of the Apostate’s career that, while not departing from the censorious verdict that was predominant in Byzantium, is not exclusively dependent on previous sources. Indeed, like many previous and later authors, Theophanes intensifies these sources’ anti-Julian tendencies.210 V.5.2  George the Monk In the 9th century, George the Monk wrote a chronicle covering the period between Creation and Michael III’s reign.211 In his description of Julian’s reign, he adds information apparently derived from Theodoret to his main sources – namely, the Epitome of Ecclesiastical Histories (CHAP 593) and Theophanes.212 George’s personal remarks are consistent with the spirit of the preface, in which he establishes Orthodoxy as the highest value.213 Julian enters the stage in the chapter on Constantius II (IX.2),214 where George the Monk does not record the bloody events of 337, which are instead mentioned by the Epitome and Theophanes. The 337 massacre, which might possibly be taken to justify Julian’s apostasy, is significantly censored by the chronicler, who nonetheless follows Theophanes and Epitome 120 as regards the ordination as lectores of Gallus and his brother Julian, their attempt to build a church and, finally, their monastic tonsure.215 In between the information about the failed construction of a church and that of the brothers’ tonsure, George the Monk emphasises that even “inanimate matter” manifested a condemnation of “the perversion of [Julian’s] wretched intellect”.216

108  “A great persecution” He thus draws upon his sources quite freely by adding personal remarks217 or censoring information that might foster feelings of understanding or appreciation towards Julian in the reader. The chronicler thus departs from the Epitome and Theophanes by avoiding any mention of Julian’s military victories in Gaul. Right from the start, George the Monk displays an attitude that is wholly critical of Julian, as is also evident from the use he makes of Theodoret’s Historia Ecclesiastica, from which (H.E. III.3.2–5) he draws information about the Apostate’s travels to Greece in search of soothsayers and oracles that might confirm his dreams of greatness, and about his initiation into pagan rites there.218 The opening of the chapter on Julian’s reign (IX.3)219 confirms that George the Monk always uses the same sources:220 chiefly Epitome 122 and Theodoret (H.E. III.6.1). He also describes the destruction of churches and flogging of Christians, with these additions possibly derived from Gregory of Nazianzus.221 The chronicler therefore darkens the portrayal found in Theodoret’s Historia Ecclesiastica, which, while recalling various harassments (III.6.4), acknowledges that no openly declared persecution was carried out (III.6.5).222 After a brief mention of Porphyry’s apostasy,223 George the Monk follows Theodoret (H.E. III.7.1–2) in describing the pagans’ harassment of Christians, the events in Gaza and Ascalon, and the desecration of John the Baptist’s relics.224 Up until this point in the narrative, the pagans’ actions are not explicitly attributed to Julian. With a description of the desecration of the Jesus statue at Paneas, George the Monk starts listing the Apostate’s anti-Christian actions, once again drawing upon the Epitome and Theodoret, with some significant additions. For example, when it comes to Julian’s threat to wage all-out war against Christianity upon his return from Persia, George the Monk adds to his source (Epitome 147) the claim that the emperor’s anti-Christian actions were unspeakable;225 similarly, with regard to Julian’s grave in Tarsus, George the Monk specifically borrows from Gregory of Nazianzus the reference to prodigious earthquakes that marked Julian’s condemnation in the afterlife.226 From Theodoret (H.E. III.26–27) he draws – and slightly abridges – the description of the macabre discoveries of human sacrifices made in Carrhae and Antioch after the emperor’s death;227 George makes this ending even gloomier by adding information that bears witness to the spread of the Apostate’s black legend in Byzantium. The first piece of information concerns a monk, Publius, who is said to have thwarted the mission of a demon in Julian’s service through ten days of uninterrupted prayer. The emperor then threatens to do away with all the monks, but after his death one of his high-ranking officials converts and embraces the monastic life, confirming the emperor’s complete failure.228 This episode also confirms the description of George the Monk’s work as a typical monastic chronicle.229 Furthermore, it cannot be ruled out that it contains an echo of the iconodule propaganda concerning the struggle against monasticism allegedly waged by Constantine V.230 Offering a radical and simplistic view of reality,231 the chronicler describes this emperor as a “new Julian”, and accuses him of having performed human sacrifices, just like the Apostate.232

“A great persecution”  109 In George the Monk we find another important innovation compared to other sources known to us. Immediately after describing – in Theodoret’s footsteps – the human sacrifices in Carrhae and Antioch, the chronicler expands beyond all measure the horrifying actions attributed to Julian: the emperor is accused of having disembowelled countless pregnant women for soothsaying purposes and to have sacrificed all kinds of animals to the gods in the vain hope of being deified. The parataxis here contributes to conveying the idea of an increasing succession of impious deeds (which go hand-in-hand with an increase in insults directed against the Apostate). The sequence ends with a mention of Julian’s fall, akin to that of the devil who tricked him and led him to ruin: The Idolian233 disembowelled countless pregnant women to practice divination with the foetuses and slaughtered many children, burying them under the idols. […] He also used to sacrifice white and tawny horses, some to the Sun, others to the fire or winds; moreover, he was constantly massacring dogs, monkeys, ravens, and almost any kind of serpent, quadruped, feathered, and marine creature […]. By such means, the godless one believed he could attain apotheosis and be deemed a god […] and after having performed frightful and unspeakable actions […] he toppled with a mighty and indescribable fall, just as he who had deceived and ruined him had fallen, the most baleful devil.234 Significantly, therefore, “devil” is the last word of the Julian section, which in George the Monk’s work seems much more consistent and suitable for a public keen on narratives filled with miracles and atrocities.235 George the Monk leaves out certain details (such as the massacre of 337) which, while present in his sources, might have fostered a milder judgement on his reader’s part: Julian is first portrayed as a young man eager to embrace apostasy to fulfil his ambition, and then as an emperor willing to launch an anti-Christian policy that fails with the Persian war (by the will of God and thanks to a monk’s prayers), ultimately revealing himself to be the perpetrator of countless atrocities. Confirming Kazhdan’s verdict (“George was a terrific story-teller surpassing both Theophanes and Synkellos”),236 the final picture offered by the chapter on the Apostate would appear to be matched in its horror only by that painted in the redaction of a Byzantine exorcism, Cyprian’s prayer, which invokes 12,660 martyrs sub Iuliano.237 Julian’s impiety, then, was drowned in the martyrs’ blood, as Evagrius had written centuries earlier, and was even destined to be punished by a deceased person.

Notes

1 In general, see Clausi (2020, 75–93). 2 Oldfather (1943, 55). 3 Oldfather (1943, 53). 4 See Brennecke (1988, 149 n. 180).

110  “A great persecution” 5 One first variation may be witnessed in Sozomen V.10.1, according to whom Hilarion fled from Gaza precisely because of persecution under Julian, whereas according to Jerome the saint left Palestine under Constantius II, in pursuit of a solitary life. According to French Strout (1943, 309–310), Sozomen was familiar with a very loose translation of Jerome’s text, which according to Lampadaridi (2019b, 416), is the version BHG 753. According to Brennecke (1988, 148), Sozomen is reporting events known to him from family traditions, since Hilarion had converted his ancestors to Christianity. 6 French Strout (1943, 326–327) (French Strout’s edition is reprinted in Dimitrakopoulos 2013, 32–52). The same can be said about another Greek translation (CPG 3630b, only known from a Coptic translation, BHO 382), at least as far as we can tell from the Italian translation in Rossi (1888, 88). The section about Julian from the translation BHG 752 = CPG 3630.1 has yet to be published (see Lampadaridi 2019b, 415–419 and Lampadaridi 2020, 101–103 and 111, who brings up to date the conclusions reached by French Strout 1943, 309–311). 7 French Strout (1943, 381–382). According to French Strout 1943, 340, it is dated no later than the 7th century, according to Lampadaridi (2019b, 418–419) the 4th-early 5th century (see also Lampadaridi 2020, 111). 8 See French Strout (1943, 408). 9 French Strout (1943, 415). 10 See Lampadaridi (2020, 110) and French Strout (1943, 401). By contrast, according to Høgel (2002, 182), Symeon the Metaphrast’s sources for Hilarion are the lives BHG 751z, 752, 753, and 754. According to French Strout 1943, 394, the translation BHG 754 = CPG 3630c is an 11th-century text mixing BHG 753 and BHG 755. 11 Dimitrakopoulos (2013, 96). 12 Neophytos of Cyprus (on whom see Galatariotou 1991) is the founder of a major Cypriot monastery (see Mango/Hawkins 1966, 119–206). 13 French Strout (1943, 406). 14 Tsiknopoullos (1966, 144). 15 Galatariotou (1991, 75–81) on the anachoretic life in relation to Neophytos, which on p. 75 is described as “undoubtedly the most frequently shared theme in all saints’ Lives, Neophytic or not”. On p. 80 this scholar notes that in lives written by Neophytos, we find various examples of saints fleeing to escape throngs of Christians, but that Hilarion’s life is the one which best “illustrates how seriously a holy man can become trapped, even imprisoned, in his fame”. “Certain similarities between Neophytos’ story” and the lives of Hilarion and Alypius “are indeed striking” (Galatariotou 1991, 103). 16 Galatariotou (1991, 263). 17 See Galatariotou (1991, 90, 226 and 229). 18 See Galatariotou (1991, 26). 19 Delehaye (1902, 153–154); PG 117, 120. According to Lampadaridi (2020, 110), the entry in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion derives from BHG 753. 20 See Fontaine (1963, 50) and Fontaine (1968, 514–515). 21 Fontaine (2004, 260). 22 Fontaine (1963, 34–35). See Fontaine (1968, 525) on the language used to portray Julian as a persecutor. According to Barnes (1996, 25–32 and 2010, 199– 234), Sulpicius is unreliable and employs terms similar to those of the Historia Augusta, which may therefore have been his model to create a narrative filled with fabrications, including the confrontation between Julian and Martin, a chronologically impossible event. According to Ruggiero 2003, 181, the tone is the same as that found in passions about conscientious objector saints from the pre-Constantinian age. 23 See Delehaye (1933a, 97) on this oxymoronic conclusion of Sulpicius Severus’.

“A great persecution”  111 24 Leclerq (1964, 71) and Mango (1973, 709). By contrast, Lumpe (1970, 314) more correctly describes the Greek life of St Martin as dependent on Sulpicius Severus. 25 Delehaye (1937, 31). 26 Delehaye (1939, 428 = 1966b, 403), followed by Jacob (2008, 345) and, with some hesitation, by Sansterre (1988, 726 n. 68). According to Beck (1959, 513), life BHG 1181/1181b dates from the iconoclastic period; according to Mango (1973, 709), from the 8th century; according to Lumpe (1970, 314), from the 9th. 27 See Delehaye (1939, 431 = 1966b, 406), Sansterre (1983b, 181 n. 91) (according to Beck 1959, 512 and Lumpe 1970, 314, someone from Southern Italy or Sicily; Rome would thus appear to be ruled out); Lampadaridi (2019a, 381). On Greek hagiography in Italy, see Efthymiadis (2017, 345–421). 28 See Delehaye (1937, 31), Halkin (1983–1984, 69). 29 Halkin (1983–1984, 71). 30 Halkin (1983–1984, 72–73). 31 Delehaye (1902, 217). Martin is also commemorated on 10 November and Delehaye initially believed that the two entries (10 and 12 November) present in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion derived from the same text, namely the saint’s Greek life (Delehaye 1900a, 8). Subsequently (Delehaye 1939, 431 = 1966b, 406) the scholar concluded that only the 12 November entry is a summary of the Greek life, with the addition of a few elements reminiscent of Sulpicius Severus. The 12 November entry indeed matches Severus’ account, notwithstanding the fact that it sets the story in Trajan’s era rather than the 4th century. 32 PG 117, 156. 33 Mansi (1762, 305), Bidez/Cumont (1922, 205). 34 On Trajan in Byzantine literature, see Popović (2004, 337–347), esp. p. 339 on a pseudo-Damascene homily (probably by Michael Synkellos) mentioning the legend about Gregory the Great praying for Trajan’s salvation; on p. 340 the scholar discusses George the Monk’s transmission of an anecdote (also featured in the Excerpta by Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus) about Trajan’s justice. The legend of Trajan’s salvation thanks to Gregory the Great was thus known in the Byzantine world, and a Greek monk who had travelled to Rome, or lived in a Roman monastery, may have read it or heard it directly in Latin. 35 Hilarion and Martin, two miracle-working saints, were chiefly noteworthy for their miracles; so their relationship with the Apostate may have struck many hagiographers as unimportant. 36 See Brennecke (1988, 131). On Aemilianus see also Teitler (2017, 193). 37 See Delehaye (1912, 262–263); AASS Nov. II, 2, 383; Delehaye (1933b, 57), (1940, 294), Pulpea (1944, 126–135) had stressed the unreliability of several details in passion BHG 33, including its mention of a persecution edict by Julian. According to Delehaye (1912, 263–265), the passion of Aemilianus enjoyed wide circulation from the start, to the point that it was also drawn upon in accounts about other martyrs sub Iuliano (the saints Macedonius, Theodoulos, and Tatian of Meros), whereas Franchi de’ Cavalieri (1915, 67–70) is cautious about this hypothesis. According to Lugaresi (1997, 257), in or. 5.40 Gregory of Nazianzus may also be referring to Aemilianus when he speaks of the anonymous martyr who destroyed a pagan altar. The doubts voiced by Nasturel (1945, 238–239) concerning the reliability of passion BHG 33 are echoed by Constantinescu (1967, 12–14), according to whom Aemilianus is a fictional character. Delehaye’s hypothesis is accepted by: Zeiller (1918, 127), Amore (1950, 310), De Gaiffier (1956, 13), Dubois (1956a, 52), Amore (1964c, 1189), Jones (1971, 180), Halkin (1972, 28), Follieri (1980, 366), Halkin (1987, 223), Scorza Barcellona (1995, 58), and Aigrain (2000, 216). Concerning the spread of the tradition about Aemilianus in the Western Roman Empire, see Lanéry (2008, 171).

112  “A great persecution” 38 The antagonist’s role is assigned to governor Capitolinus, who is also responsible for the saint’s martyrdom according to Theodoret H.E. III.6.5 (the source of Nikephoros Kallistos H.E. V.9) and according to the Paschal Chronicle, which (for Delehaye 1912, 260) is the source of Theophanes A.M. 5855 in De Boor (1883, 51) (according to Brennecke (1988, 131), Theophanes depends on the Homoean source used in the Paschal Chronicle). 39 See Delehaye (1966a, 175). 40 AASS Iul. IV, 373. 41 Halkin (1987, 225). 42 Halkin (1972, 30). 43 E.g. Socrates III.12.5–6 or Sozomen V.4.6–9. 44 Bernardi (1983, 116). The same concept occurs in a subsequent work by Gregory, the funerary oration for St Athanasius, in or. 21.32 (Mossay 1980, 176 and 178). 45 Halkin (1972, 30). 46 Bernardi (1983, 214 and 216); the same concept occurs again in Gregory’s oration in honour of St Athanasius: or. 21.32 (Mossay 1980, 178). We cannot rule out the influence of other late-antique authors as well, such as John Chrysostom (De s. Babyla 76: Schatkin 1990, 194) or Asterius (Homiliae III.10: Datema 1970, 33). 47 Halkin (1972, 31). 48 For example, this would appear to have occurred in the Coptic version of the Greek passion of Cyriacus, where Julian initially seeks to avoid an open persecution and only visits Jerusalem after receiving a provocative letter from the saint (the Coptic text and French translation of the passion may be found in Guidi 1904, 311–332). In the Greek passion there is no trace of this initial cautiousness on Julian’s part. 49 Passion BHG 2250 has traditionally been described as an “epitome”, but – as its editor notes – “est en réalité plus complet que la Passion 2448” (Halkin 1985a, 217; see also p. 222). Indeed, passions BHG 2248 and 2250 would appear to directly depend on Theodoret rather than on each other; however, there may have been other redactions of the passion of Mark of Arethusa that have not reached us. What also makes the analysis different is the constant rewriting of the transmitted texts, which is typical of the hagiographical tradition. Wendland (1911, 24) (quoted by Bauer 1961, 132–135, in turn quoted by Hamblenne 1993, 216–217) lists passages from Classical authors that present analogies with the martyrdom of Mark of Arethusa, who is covered in honey and exposed to the bees. 50 BHG 2250 also mentions the profanation of the remains of St John the Baptist, the martyrdom of Aemilianus and Artemius, the law against Christian teachers, the removal of St Babylas’ remains, and the torturing of the confessor Theodore. 51 Halkin (1985a, 218). 52 Halkin (1985a, 223). 53 Latyšev (1911, 293). 54 Latyšev (1911, 294). 55 Different scholars, starting from the Bollandists (AASS Ian. I, 83; AASS Mart. III, 380; AASS Oct. XI, 26; Janin 1932a, 1073; Janin 1932b, 1074), have hypothesised the existence of two Basils, both martyred sub Iuliano, on account of the discrepancies in terms of the day of worship and information associated with this saint named Basil. However, it seems more likely that what we have is a splitting of one and the same figure: see Tillemont (1732b, 375–379, 717 and 728–729), Delehaye (1902, 978, 1908, 423–424) (quoted by De Gaiffier 1956, 11 n. 2 and followed by Sauget 1987, 143 and Destephen 2008, 785), Delehaye

“A great persecution”  113 (1940, 107), and Eldarov (1962, 908). Fatti (2009a, 260 n. 60 and 263 n. 96) links the fabrication of a presbyter Basil’s martyrdom in Caesarea with the desire to obliterate the events that took place in that city in 362, and in which Basil the Great would appear to have played an ambiguous role by supporting the Apostate against the newly-elected Bishop Eusebius. According to Brennecke (1988, 150 and 156), the presbyter Basil was a follower of the Homoeousian heresy, and the traditions about his martyrdom were originally developed in an Homoeousian milieu. According to Brennecke (1988, 149), Sozomen is the source behind the whole subsequent tradition, including the passion known to us and the entries in liturgical books. According to the tradition, on account of his opposition to the Homoean Church under Constantius II, Basil was forbidden to celebrate the Divine Liturgy by Bishop Eudoxius and his followers Eugenius and Macarius. According to Bidez (1981, CLXI–CLXII), these may coincide with the Eugenius and Macarius who are the protagonists of the Greek passions BHG 2126 and 2127. In the same years, Dufourcq also argued (in a posthumously published text) that the Eugenius mentioned in the passion of Basil of Ancyra was an Arian saint (Dufourcq 1988, 188). De Gaiffier (1960, 39 n. 3) takes no stand on the matter; according to Brennecke (1988, 131), the hypothesis is a rather rash one. According to Scorza Barcellona (1995, 74), the two saints’ heretical backgrounds were soon forgotten. Delehaye (1908, 423) appears sceptical about the historical value of these passions, while Bidez (1981, CLXI) seems more prudent, noting that the passion of Basil BHG 242 features three apostates (Elpidius, Pegasius, and Felix), the last of whom certainly also appeared in Philostorgius’ Historia Ecclesiastica (as may the first two as well). Woods (1992, 31–39) develops the hypotheses regarding the reliability of the earliest tradition about Basil already advanced by Barnes (1974, 229) and Foss (1977, 40 n. 43): he regards it as a reliable source, with a lot of trustworthy information, including on the figure of Julian; he identifies several of the saint’s antagonists with historical figures. Scorza Barcellona (1995, 71) follows Woods as far as the reconstruction of events and the identification of the characters are concerned, while expressing doubt as to the fact that this passion may have been known to Sozomen in the form known to us, since he does not mention the tortures and the exchange with the emperor himself described in BHG 242. According to Wiemer (1995, 108 n. 122), the date of Basil’s death recorded by the passion (28 June 362) may be correct, even if the passion is otherwise probably untrustworthy. Teitler (1996, 71–76) is sceptical about Woods’ hypotheses (confirmed in Woods 1997b, 276–277, followed by Fatti 2009b, 77). According to Busine (2019, 262–286), the cult of the presbyter Basil was influenced by that of a pagan god. 56 Delehaye (1902, 551–556). It is also summed up in synaxaria written in Slavic languages (see Krascheninnikov 1907, XI–XII). 57 Krascheninnikov (1907, XIII). John Hagioelites lived in the 10th century, according to Krascheninnikov (1907, XXII–XXIII); in the Komnenian period according to Beck (1959, 638), who ranks him among the epigones of hagiography, according to the definition provided by Ehrhard (1939, 503 n. 3), who however is far more cautious when it comes to the dating. Fatti (2009a, 263 n. 96) dates passion BHG 243 to the years between the 10th and the 12th century. Unlike Krascheninnikov, Delehaye (1940, 107) seems to believe that John Hagioelites directly drew upon passion BHG 242. 58 Delehaye (1902, 365–366); PG 117, 237. See Krascheninnikov (1907, XV–XVII) on the relations between these various entries, including the one on St Basil of Ancyra found in Slavic synaxaria. 59 See Krascheninnikov (1907, XXI–XXII).

114  “A great persecution” 60 While praising Christianity and railing against the sacrifices and bloody altars, the saint states that he does not wish to offend the pagan religion and the emperor, using a loyalist tone that is very different from that found in epic passions (AASS Mart. III, 15*). In passion BHG 243, by contrast, Basil throws violent insults at Julian. Ševčenko (1977a, 129) notes the same contrast between a genuine letter by Theodore Grapto, in which the iconodules do not criticise the iconoclast emperor Theophilus when they are brought before him (PG 116, 676A), and the subsequent hagiographical tradition, in which saints from the iconoclastic period insult and provoke the emperor, as in passions set in Antiquity. 61 AASS Mart. III, 16*. 62 Basil alludes here to the tradition already known to Gregory of Nazianzus in or. 4.91 and 4.23, according to which Julian was saved from the massacre of 337 by priests who brought him to safety in a church, and went on to become a lector (AASS Mart. III, 16*). Franchi de’ Cavalieri (1920, 67 n. 2) quotes this very passage from the passion of Basil BHG 242 in relation to Latin translations of the passion of Theodoret of Antioch. Likewise, in the passion of Cyriacus BHG 465 the saint reproaches Julian for the same reason (Papadopoulos-­Kerameus 1907, 166). Franchi de’ Cavalieri (1920, 67 (n. 3) and 72–73) quotes other passages from the passion of Basil BHG 242 in which Gregory of Nazianzus’ influence is detectable. The saint also recalls the episode of 337 before Julian’s minister, Frumentinus (AASS Mart. III, 17*). 63 Elements from other passions are possibly detectable only in the episode in which Basil flings a piece of meat at the emperor, inviting him to eat it (AASS Mart. III, 17*): St Lawrence’s famous saying I am roasted enough on this side; turn me round, and eat is uttered in the same spirit. 64 AASS Mart. III, 17*. 65 Krascheninnikov (1907, 3). 66 Krascheninnikov (1907, 9). Follieri (1972–1973, 347 and 351) on Julian’s epithets in the entries for Basil of Ancyra in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion. See also Delehaye (1966a, 192). 67 Krascheninnikov (1907, 11). 68 Krascheninnikov (1907, 3). 69 In XIII.20 (Thurn 2000, 251–252). On Dometius in Malalas, see Martin (2004, 99). 70 In the early 6th century according to Beck (1959, 402). 71 Van den Gheyn (1900, 313). 72 The hagiographer recounts that the pagans are uncertain at first as to how they should deal with Dometius, since some suggest sparing his life and banishing him; only when the saint refuses to leave his cave in order to meet the emperor do the pagans stone him (Van den Gheyn 1900, 314). 73 Van den Gheyn (1900, 313–314). 74 “The emperor ordered to seek out and kill all the heralds of piety” (Van den Gheyn 1900, 315). Moreover, according to the hagiographer, the great church in Antioch was converted into a horse stable (Van den Gheyn 1900, 314; see also Chapter IX concerning this tradition): this is a distortion of what Julian had actually ordered, namely the closing of the church after the burning down of the temple of Apollo at Daphne, as reported for instance by Theodoret H.E.III.12.1. 75 In the hagiographer’s opinion, Julian should not be called an emperor on account of his apostasy. The epithet parabates (transgressor), which was widespread in the Byzantine world, is here explained as though it were little-known: Tas entolas tou Theou parabas (Van den Gheyn 1900, 313). The same epithet is explained in other texts of Syrian origin (see Chapter IV): the passion of Theodoret BHG 2425 (Halkin 1986a, 124) and Malalas’ Chronographia XIII.18 (Thurn 2000, 250). See also n. 88 concerning the passion of Copres and Patermutius.

“A great persecution”  115 76 According to Brennecke (1988, 133–134) this tradition is of Homoean origin. He argues that traces of a monastic tradition of Homoean derivation are to be found in the epithet “magnanimous” used to describe Constantius II in XIII.17 (Thurn 2000, 250) and in the partly positive representation of Valens, who is also described as “magnanimous” in XIII.34 (Thurn 2000, 264). Brennecke believes that Nikephoros Kallistos may also depend on this Homoean tradition in his presentation of Dometius’ tale in H.E.X.9 (PG 146, 465C) – as well as that of other saints sub Iuliano. However, the saint does not present traits typical of Homoean martyrs. Christian zelos, the defining feature of Homoean martyrology, is missing from accounts of Dometius, who – unlike many Homoean martyrs – does not challenge or provoke Julian. A further clue as to the importance of the tradition about the medical saint of the same name is the episode, recounted in the latter’s life (BHO 263), in which his enemies attempt to wall him in alive. Even though Malalas employs positive terms for Homoean emperors, it is not necessary to hypothesise his dependence on Homoean sources, since even Caligula (in X.17) and Diocletian (in XII.37) are described as magnanimous (Thurn 2000, 184 and 236). Moreover, in X.48 Domitian is praised as a philosopher, despite the fact that Malalas recalls the persecution launched by this emperor (Thurn 2000, 198). What we have, then, is a tendency of Malalas’, or of the source he possibly drew upon for his brief psycho-physical sketches of certain emperors (his so-called somatopsychogrammata) – a tendency that therefore cannot be defined as Homoean. See Teitler (2017, 125–126) concerning the unreliability of the tradition about Dometius. 77 In the 6th century, Severus of Antioch was familiar with Dometius, as his homilies show (see Delehaye 1933a, 206). Concerning Theodoret’s silence about Dometius, see Delehaye (1940, 328) and De Gaiffier (1956, 24–25). There may be an echo of the legend about Dometius in the passion of the martyrs of Chasma BHG 1430, who died sub Iuliano in a cave (Gedeon 1899, 318), and in an episode from the so-called first Syriac Romance, in which Julian orders his trusted follower Panopolus to inflict the following punishment on the Christians of Nisibis who have sought refuge in a cave: “shut them up by placing boulders on the entrances to the caverns and put upon them a seal with the signet of my ring” (transl. in Gollancz 1928, 164). 78 Previously, Van den Gheyn (1900, 285) had already noted the analogies between the tale of the two Dometiuses (the physician and the Persian), but had been rather inclined to assigned priority to the Persian Dometius. 79 According to Peeters (1939, 81), building on Cumont (1917, 23, 24 n. 3 concludes that the life of Dometius BHG 560 is legendary), the account of the Persian Dometius’ death is inconsistent. As on 7 March the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion commemorates Dometius without any further information, Peeters (1939, 97–101) hypothesises that the Persian Dometius’ hagiographer may have exploited the memory of an obscure martyr who had been killed two days after Julian’s departure from Antioch, which occurred on 5 March 363. Peeters (1950, 143–147; quoted by Aigrain 2000, 249–250 and Frutaz 1959, 477) hypothesises that a Persian hermit may actually have been killed on Julian’s orders, but for espionage and not for religious reasons. Several generations later, the competition between various places of worship would have led the inhabitants of Cyrrhus to turn this hitherto almost unknown victim of the Persian war into a miracle-worker: the homonymy was not a coincidence, but was consciously designed to attract pilgrims devoted to the physician Dometius. According to Parmentier (1989, 281–294), the tradition about Dometius emerged within the context of the struggles between monophysites and duophysites. Merkt (1995, 308–309) mentions the hypotheses of Peeters and Parmentier without taking a stance. According to Fiey (2004, 70), life BHG 560 “offre des ressemblances

116  “A great persecution” avec la Vie d’Aphraat le Perse et celle de Jacques de Nisibe d’après Théodoret” (previously, Fiey 1977, 77 n. 408 had referred to Peeters’ 1939 study in relation to Dometius and described the whole problem as “inextricable”). According to Bouffartigue (2006, 142), the Dometius episode is a fabrication. Aubert (1960a, 589) and Amore (1964a, 746) also follow Peeters’ (1939) study, concluding that a single Dometius must have been split into two. Nesbitt (1969, 455) instead seems to believe in the existence of a Persian Dometius, as he writes: “Persian monk at Nisibis and martyr. D. 362?” 80 Peeters (1939, 94). 81 Also with regard to Dometius, Weismann (1975, 54–570 stresses the importance for Malalas of oral traditions, connected to saints’ cult sites: in his view, this is the reason why the Syrian chronicler provides some rare pieces of information – for example, that Dometius was walled up alive rather than stoned, as we read in the hagiographical tradition. 82 Thurn (2000, 252). 83 See Bouffartigue (1998, 79). Even if it was never really given, this order fits well with the emperor’s character, what Franchi de’ Cavalieri (1953, 198 n. 1) described as his “umore sarcastico”, which emerges for instance in ep. 115 Bidez: the official seizing of Christians’ property in Edessa is here officially presented as a measure designed to help them, by impoverishing them and hence making them worthy of the heavenly kingdom. 84 Delehaye (1902, 104 and 871). 85 See Delehaye (1922, 90, 1927, 314, 1940, 279; De Gaiffier 1956, 22; Engberding 1963, 169; Baumeister 1998, 1455). On the genesis and aims of this text, see Sauget (1968a, 376–378). 86 Festugière (1971, 75–89). On Patermutius in the Historia monachorum: Gascou (1992, 107–114). 87 The text mentions bishops Eugenius and Macarius, who are no longer commemorated in the subsequent tradition (AASS Iul. II, 703). 88 AASS Iul. II, 706, which, among other things, also says of Julian: parabas ten entolen tou Theou. In the Vita Dometii BHG 560 we read tas entolas tou Theou parabas (Van den Gheyn 1900, 313), so it is possible that one of these two texts influenced the other. 89 See e.g. Martyrium Policarpi 3.1. 90 AASS Iul. II, 706. 91 AASS Iul. II, 706–707. 92 AASS Iul. II, 709. 93 In Viae Dux XXIII.1 Anastasius Sinaita uses the term Ioulianistai to describe the followers of the monophysite Julian of Halicarnassus (Uthemann 1981, 305; PG 89, 296). 94 Delehaye (1902, 809–810); PG 117, 532. 95 According to Delehaye (1912, 233) (followed by Acconcia Longo 1972, 354), this passion is a “création d’haute fantaisie”; he further stresses that Manuel, Sabel, and Ishmael are Semitic, not Persian, names (see also Delehaye 1940, 242). A more cautious stance is adopted by Sauget (1967a, 637–638). According to Fiey (1977, 33 n. 124), the tale of the three saints is a “mystère”. According to Muraviev (1997, 94–100), the Persian king Baltanos, who is Julian’s antagonist in the pre-Metaphrastean passion BHG 1023, may be identified with the Sassanid Bahram V (421–438). The latter was supported in his rise to power by the Lakhmid Arab sovereign al-Mundhir I, who would lie behind the Alamundaros described as Julian’s antagonist in Symeon the Metaphrast’s passion BHG 1024. These names would later have been attributed to the head of an Arab tribe that dispatched Christian ambassadors to Julian, in order to establish

“A great persecution”  117 an anti-Persian alliance with him: “The brothers were tortured and then killed by Julian’s servants – to his mind killing Arabs was a trivial matter” (Muraviev 1997, 99). The diplomatic negotiations conducted between the Byzantines and the Persians in the 5th century, and in which Bahram V (421–438) and alMundhir I played a leading role, would therefore have been combined with the memory of the event we are discussing: in passion BHG 1023 the name of the Arab sovereign, Baltanos, would thus have derived from Bahram, while the Metaphrastean passion BHG 1024 gives it as Alamundaros (according to Muraviev 1997, 95 the Metaphrast had other sources in addition to passion BHG 1023). “The absence of information on this embassy may be due to the unimportance of the episode with the Arabs in the eyes of the Byzantine historians”, argues Muraviev (1997, 100) (see also Muraviev 2001b, 53–60). It would actually have been most useful to mention them within the heated debate on the responsibility for the Persian campaign’s failure; however, no late-antique Christian author mentions Julian’s killing of three Christian ambassadors who had actually come to negotiate an alliance against Persia. If a tradition of this sort had truly spread at the time of Theodosius II, then it would be difficult to explain why no mention of it is made by Sozomen (who in V.3.5 denounces Julian’s refusal to come to Nisibis’ aid against the Persians, on the grounds that it was a Christian city). Moreover, the name Baltanos would seem to derive not so much from Bahram, but rather from Bardanes, a name already attested in Late Antiquity, and especially in use in the years after Heraclius’ death. For example, we know of an Armenian general by the name of Vardan around the mid-5th century (Martindale 1980, 1150–1151) and of an Armenian nobleman called Vardan Mamikonian in the mid/late-sixth century – the latter’s name is recorded as Bartan in a Narratio de rebus Armeniae (Martindale 1992, 1365). Furthermore, in relation to the years 641–867 the Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit lists several Bardanes (nos. 751–769 in Lilie 1999, 247–254), in addition to three Bardanios (nos. 770–772 in Lilie 1999, 254–255). 96 AASS Iun. III, 290. On the persecution edict issued by Julian at the beginning of passion BHG 1023, and not all that different from that issued by other authors, see Delehaye (1966a, 175). 97 AASS Iun. III, 291. 98 At the beginning of the debate, Julian, like the persecutors, is presented as being seized by anger (AASS Iun. III, 292). 99 AASS Iun. III, 292. This allusion occurs, with the use of the same word (morias) with reference to Christianity, in the passion of Cyriacus, which the hagiographer of Manuel, Sabel, and Ishmael may have known (Papadopoulos-­Kerameus 1907, 165; Trovato 2018, 67 and 76). 100 AASS Iun. III, 296. 101 The same device is also employed in the first Syriac Romance, where – as already noted by Nöldeke (1874, 289–290) – Sapor II is presented not as a persecutor of Christians, but as a figure displaying traits of meekness that serve to darken Julian’s portrayal as much as possible. 102 Nostitz-Rieneck (1907, 26) and Binon (1937b, 25) quote the pre-Metaphrastean passion of Manuel, Sabel, and Ismael BHG 1023 as evidence of the fact that the legend of St Mercurius never became fully established. 103 Lugaresi (1997, 70–71) notes that, in his eagerness to deride Julian, Gregory prefers to offer a narrative rich in episodes that paint him in a ridiculous light. 104 See Ehrhard (1938, 642). The Metaphrast’s redevelopment at first sight would seem to fit with the second of the four rewriting procedures he uses (namely, “oral rephrasing or metaphrasing”, which is by far the Metaphrast’s favourite one according to Høgel 2002, 93). However, it is the fourth (which Høgel 2002,

118  “A great persecution” 92 describes as the mixing of different tales of saints) which actually comes closer to the working method which he adopts in rewriting the passion of Manuel, Samuel, and Ismael, given the use of Gregory of Nazianzus. 105 Høgel (2002, 144) sets this kind of historical introduction in contrast to other kinds of introductions (geographical, eschatological, and topical) present in the Metaphrast’s texts. 106 Latyšev (1914, 28). Sozomen V.2.7 (Bidez 1960, 191) already writes that the Christians were particularly saddened by the awareness of Julian’s Christian past, and this passage may be seen as one of the Metaphrast’s starting points in his polemic against the man who had betrayed the faith of his Christian forebears. Theodoret of Cyrrhus expresses a similar idea in Graecarum affectionum curatio II.4–5, as does the author of the passion of Theodoret BHG 2425 (Halkin 1986a, 124). 107 Delehaye (1912, 233) has already noted that the Metaphrast seeks to correct the pre-Metaphrastean passion of Manuel, Sabel, and Ismael. Gill (1939, 382–386) points to another text (the Vita Stephani iunioris BHG 1667) in which the Metaphrast consciously alters his model (la Vita Stephani iunioris BHG 1666). 108 For example, Vasiljević (2008, 194–195) notes Gregory of Nazianzus’ influence on the Metaphrast’s Christology in the life of St Matthew the Evangelist BHG 1126. 109 Porimoteros eis kakian (Latyšev 1914, 29). 110 See or. 5.3 porimotera physis […] eis kakon heuresin (Bernardi 1983, 298). These correspondences between the Metaphrast and Gregory bear witness to the former’s desire to follow primarily Gregory’s words and spirit, although several Byzantine authors stress Julian’s primacy when it comes to wickedness: e.g. Gregory of Nazianzus in or. 4.38 (Bernardi 1983, 138); John Chrysostom in the panegyric in honour of Juventinus and Maximinus BHG 975 = CPG 4349 (PG 50, 573 = Rambault 2018, 182) and in Contra Iudaeos et gentiles CPG 4326 (PG 48, 835; the same formula is also used in adv. Iud. V CPG 4327, in PG 48, 900); and Basil the Minor in a scholium (Rioual 2019a, 20). 111 Latyšev (1914, 29). 112 Bernardi (1983, 146); PG 35, 1120; Mossay (1980, 176). 113 See the Metaphrast’s text in Latyšev (1914, 31–32) and Gregory’s in or. 4.85 (Bernardi 1983, 214 and 216). 114 Latyšev (1914, 29) (with various references to passages from Gregory, such as or. 4.61 in Bernardi 1983, 168; or. 4.82 in Bernardi 1983, 208; or. 7.11–13 in PG 35, 768–769 and 771 = Calvet-Sebasti 1995, 206, 208 and 210; or. 21.32 in PG 35, 1120–1121 = Mossay 1980, 178). See also the adjective logiotatos with which Julian is ironically described both by the Metaphrast (Latyšev 1914, 34) and by Gregory in or. 4.2 (Bernardi 1983, 88). 115 The first mention of a tightening of the anti-Christian measures is found in Gregory of Nazianzus IV.96. On the persecution that Julian was planning according to the 5th-century ecclesiastical historians, see Leppin (1996, 78). 116 See the Metaphrast (Latyšev 1914, 39) and Gregory (or. 5.13 and 5.18 in Bernardi 1983, 318 and 328). There might also be an influence from Chrysostom De S. Babyla 122 (Schatkin 1990, 268). 117 Latyšev (1914, 39). 118 See Lugaresi (1997, 71). 119 See the Metaphrastean paidikes […] alogistou in Latyšev (1914, 33) and Fragment 1 Masaracchia of the Contra Galilaeos, quoted by Cyril in the Contra Iulianum II.2 (Riedweg 2016, 89). 120 Theophanes in A. M. 6005 (De Boor 1883, 159); Kedrenos 395.3 (Tartaglia 2016, 614); Zonaras XIV.4 (Dindorf 1870, 262). The Arab sovereign, who apparently converted to Christianity for a short time before reverting to paganism (Shahîd 1995, 708–709 and 722–726), had many Christians under his command (Shahîd

“A great persecution”  119 1995, 81), as well as a Christian wife (by the name of Hind: Shahîd 1995, 696 and 708). Various Byzantine sources present him as such a staunch pagan as to torture Christian prisoners in an effort to push them into apostasy (Shahîd 1995, 245), to sacrifice to a pagan deity 400 virgins captured in Syria in a single day (Shahîd 1995, 43 and 732–733) and, on another occasion, to sacrifice the son of an Arab sovereign in the service of Byzantium (Shahîd 1995, 238). In Chapter 186 of the pre-Metaphrastean life of St Simeon Stylites the Younger BHG 1689 = CPG 7369, al-Mundhir III is presented as a cruel pagan who forces prisoners to eat impure flesh and who blasphemes during peace negotiations (Van den Ven 1962, 164); finally, his miraculous death, ordained by Heaven (he is hit by a ball of fire on the battlefield), is described in one of Simeon’s visions (Van den Ven 1962, 165). Perhaps the Metaphrast was familiar with the tradition about al-Mundhir III’s horrifying actions and miraculous death, and thus sought to make the Apostate an even more loathsome figure by setting him in contrast to a violent pagan sovereign who had died miraculously by God’s will like Julian, yet who was a less cruel one, according to a procedure already employed by the author of the so-called First Syriac Novel. The latter turns Sapor, the persecutor of Christians, into a milder figure, as noted by Nöldeke (1874, 289–290). According to Muraviev (1997, 95–96 and 2001b, 54–55), the Metaphrast also had other sources at his disposal, in addition to passion BHG 1023, and drew the name Alamundaros from them. 121 For example, the cubicularius Arion from the pre-Metaphrastean passion becomes an anonymous cubicularius in the Metaphrast’s text. 122 Halkin (1986c, 95). 123 Delehaye (1902, 741–743); PG 117, 493; Luzzi (2006a, 219). Only in one of the two entries in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion is Timothy not presented as the Bishop of Prusa (Delehaye 1902, 709–712). 124 According to Mateos (1956, 370–372), followed by Follieri (1975, 332), the relics were translated thanks to the efforts of Patriarch Triphon (928–931), who came from the theme (Byzantine territorial division) of Opsikion, where Prusa was located. Evidence of the cult of Timothy’s limited popularity is provided by the Georgian synaxarion published by Garitte, in which the apostle Timothy is mentioned in place of Timothy of Prusa – according to Garitte (1958, 247), owing to confusion between the latter and the apostle Bartholomew. This confusion was probably caused by the fact that Timothy of Prusa was poorly known, if not completely unknown, outside Constantinople and Bithynia. The Bollandist Papebrochius sought to defend the reliability of the tradition about this saint (AASS Iun. II, 275), but 20th-century Bollandists proved far more cautious in accepting accounts of Timothy of Prusa’s martyrdom sub Iuliano as reliable (Delehaye 1940, 232; Halkin 1986c, 93). Sauget (1969b, 490–491), takes no stance on the matter. 125 White (2008, 149–167) on the topos of the slaying of the drakon in Middle Byzantine hagiography. 126 See Halkin (1986c, 93). 127 On the baths of Prusa in the Byzantine period: Berger (1982, 73–75). 128 Halkin (1960b, 133 n. 2). 129 According to Orgels (1958–1962, 257–258), the redaction of the passion of Pionius used by Patrick’s hagiographer is not the earliest one (from the second half of the 3rd century), but the one rewritten in the 4th century, whereas the passion of St Patrick can be dated to the 5th or 6th century. According to Halkin (1960b, 132–133), followed by Sauget (1968d, 412), we have no ancient testimonies about Patrick and his cult is not attested before the 9th century. 130 Indeed, in two manuscripts the name of the saint’s antagonist is not Julius, but Julian (see Halkin 1960b, 133–134 and 137 in the critical apparatus of the edition of the passion of Patrick BHG 1432).

120  “A great persecution” 131 According to De Gaiffier (1960, 38), the Latin translation of the Greek passion of Eugenius and Macarius was known to Rabanus Maurus, meaning that the Greek passion was written before the beginning of the 9th century. 132 Delehaye (1902, 330, 25–331); PG 117, 217. 133 See De Gaiffier (1960, 27 and 34–37). 134 In the later Artemii Passio 39, after a dialectical confrontation with the Apostate (Chapters 25–38 in Kotter 1988, 215–224), the two saints are banished to Arabia, where they are eventually beheaded (Kotter 1988, 224). See Chapter VII. 135 They were already noted by Tillemont (1732b, 730–731 n. 22), and then by Bidez (1981, CLXII n. 1), Delehaye (1940, 594), Bardy (1956b, 670–672), De Gaiffier (1956, 17); Aubert (1963, 1345–1346) (quoting De Gaiffier 1960), Volk (1961, 1312, Volk 1997, 1221), and Scorza Barcellona (1995, 73). In the passion of Copres and Patermutius BHG 2083, Eugenius and Macarius are even presented as bishops; and since Mauretania is mentioned (AASS Iul. II, 703), it would seem that the hagiographer of Copres and Patermutius was familiar with a passion of Eugenius and Macarius now lost, and not (or not merely) with a passion of Artemius. It is also plausible that certain martyrs came to be assigned, rather than stripped of, the status of presbyter and then bishop. For example, according to Westerink (1972, 200–201), the married layman Eupsychius may have undergone a process of this kind, becoming a presbyter in the medieval tradition (by contrast, according to Fatti 2009b, 121–127, Eupsychius really was a married presbyter); therefore, the hagiographer of Copres and Patermutius may have pushed this hagiographical tendency to the extreme: see Teitler (2017, 105–106) concerning the unreliability of the tradition about Eugenius and Macarius. 136 See Bidez (1981, CLXI–CLXII), Dufourcq (1988, 188–190), Grégoire (1905, 46– 50), Lucchesi (1964b, 202). 137 Halkin (1960c, 43–44). In passion BHG 2127, the corresponding sentence is shorter and does not include the word zelos (Halkin 1986c, 85). 138 See Brennecke (1988, 131 and 153). 139 According to De Gaiffier (1960, 39), the Mauritanian tradition is more reliable, because for a hagiographer “peu au courant du règne de Julien l’Apostat, c’est à Antioche, ville où il a résidé le plus longtemps comme empereur, qu’il était naturel de placer l’interrogatoire”. According to De Gaiffier (1960, 37; followed by Scorza Barcellona 1995, 72) in the 5th century the martyrology of Jerome included the following entry on the saints, without any reference to Julian as their persecutor and to Antioch as their home town: “in Mauretania civitate Gildoba passio sanctorum Eugenii et Macarii”. 140 Halkin (1960c, 44–46). 141 In BHG 2126 (Halkin 1960c, 44) and BHG 2127 (Halkin 1986c, 85). 142 See Franchi de’ Cavalieri (1915, 45–47); AASS Nov. II, 2, 336; Delehaye (1933a, 298). Grégoire/Orgels (1954, 579–605 and 1957, 171–175), building upon a hypothesis by Dufourcq (1900, 148–149), believe there is a core of historical truth in the tradition about St Gallicanus, whose legend is connected to that of the two saints of the Caelian Hill, whereas they deem the tradition about John and Paul to be unreliable. A more cautious stance is adopted by Prandi (1953, 121– 130). One of the topoi of epic passions is the figure of the witness who guarantees the authenticity of the events related: in this passion the role is played by Terentian, who served Julian before converting to Christianity (see Delehaye 1966a, 182). 143 Delehaye (1895, 332), Kirsch (1918, 28) (previously, Kirsch 1913, 54 had argued that the popular veneration of the relics of the two saints John and Paul, which was already flourishing in the 5th century, subsequently led to the drafting of

“A great persecution”  121 their passion); (Lucchesi 1943, 61; De Gaiffier 1956, 29; Bundy 1987, 15–16). ­According to Dufourcq (1907b, 38), the passion dates from the first half of the 6th century; according to Lanzoni (1925, 239), the earliest redaction of the Latin passion can be dated more precisely to the years between the late 5th and the early 6th century (followed by Kennedy 1938, 133: “The legend is certainly contemporaneous with the Synod of 499, or very soon after”). According to Amore (1975, 291), the passion was “composta senza dubbio all’inizio del secolo VI”, a view also held by Halkin (1974a, 265). By contrast, according to Allard (1899, 195), the passion may date from the mid-4th century; according to Gazeau (1967, 434), the earliest Latin passion dates from the 5th century. According to Duchesne (1955, 199), the passion, a “compilation hagiographique fort curieuse, est postérieure au L. P. C’est à lui que l’on a emprunté les quatre fonds de terre qui jouent un rôle” in one episode, and because, according to Duchesne’s theory, the first part of the Liber Pontificalis dates back to the early 6th century, the legend cannot have emerged before that time. De Gaiffier (1956, 34) follows Duchesne in positing a derivation of the passion from the Liber Pontificalis. In an effort to better understand the origin of the passion of John and Paul, Dufourcq (1900, 146 and 149), Grégoire/Orgels (1954, 592–593 n. 3), and esp. De Gaiffier (1957, 43–45) compare it with other Latin passions featuring eunuchs as protagonists. They are followed by Pietri (1976, 485), according to whom the fanciful account on Gallicanus includes “quelques souvenirs peut-être d’une passion orientale et surtout les schémas, stérotypés des saints eunuques ou palatins”. Fraschetti (1999, 121) compared the passion of John and Paul with other Roman passions in which the Capitoline Hill and the cult of Jupiter Capitolinus play a crucial role. It has been suggested that over time some relics from the East came to be associated with the Roman martyrs (see e.g. Franchi de’ Cavalieri 1935, 333–354, according to whom a translation of the relics of martyr-saints Cyprian, Justina, and Theoctistus of Nicomedia lies at the origin of the legend; and Kennedy 1938, 136). As nothing was known about these saints, according to Franchi de’ Cavalieri (1902, 59–62) a Greek passion of Juventinus and Maximinus was used as the basis of their tale, but is now lost (see also Delehaye 1903, 488; 1909b, 217; 1936b, 127; Dufourcq 1907a, 58, 124 and 157; 1988, 273; Franchi de’ Cavalieri 1907, 28 n. 2; 1908, 100, 1915, 51 and 1935, 354; Lanzoni 1925, 240; Gasdia 1937, 123; Delehaye 1940, 256 and 1955, 213; Lucchesi 1943, 61; Amore 1951a, 633; Grégoire/Orgels 1954, 604; De Gaiffier 1956, 35; Gazeau 1967, 434; Halkin 1974a, 265; Aubert 1997a, 1153; Aigrain 2000, 155 and 283; and Conti 2005, 85–86). Frutaz (1960b, 1106), Pietri (1976, 485), Gessel (1996, 980), and Walter (2003, 252) mention Franchi de’ Cavalieri’s hypothesis without wholly subscribing to it. Delehaye (1933a) emphasises the legendary character of the passion without discussing its origin. According to Franchi de’ Cavalieri (1953, 194–199), even for the passio antiquior of Sergius and Bacchus a Greek passion of Juventinus and Maximinus was used. More specifically, it has been argued that on the Caelian Hill the apostles John and Paul were venerated, but that from a certain moment onwards only the memory of their names survived: a legend would then have been developed to explain who these saints were (see Delehaye 1926, 250, 1930, 15–16, 1936a, 289, 1940, 256 and 1955, 214 n. 1). Dufourcq (1900, 150), had already mentioned John the Baptist and Paul of Tarsus, although he believed it was more likely that the saints were two martyrs sub Diocletiano named John and Paul; he is followed by Ortolani (1931, 84–86). Lanzoni (1925, 209–210) posited a similar origin, while suggesting that John the Baptist (not the Evangelist) was venerated together with Paul of Tarsus. Lucchesi (1943, 62), Halkin (1945, 264–265), Gazeau (1967, 434), Pietri (1976, 489) and Aubert (1997a, 1153) sum up the various reconstructions.

122  “A great persecution” 44 An analysis of these discrepancies is in Franchi de’ Cavalieri (1915, 43–61). 1 145 Follieri (1997, 10) lists various Greek hagiographical texts written in Italy (including the translations of Latin passions such as that of John and Paul) and generically dates them to the “periodo compreso fra l’VIII secolo and i primi anni del XIII”. With regard to the presence of saints of Western origin in Greek liturgical books, Follieri (1977, 34) notes that “la composizione dei Menologi antichi […] è praticamente conchiusa a Bisanzio a partire dal secolo X […] Perciò i testi agiografici di provenienza occidentale tradotti in greco dopo la fine del secolo IX rimasero esclusi da tali raccolte” (see Lequeux 2011, 394). Previously, Follieri (1972, 562–563) had noted that the Greek passion of John and Paul is only attested in Greek-Italian codices. The translation would therefore appear to be posterior to the late 9th century, unless we are to posit that it initially circulated only locally, as Bianconi (2004, 541) apparently does, according to whom the translation dates from the 8th century. 146 Halkin (1974a, 266). With regard to the “pieuses” translations made from Greek into Latin, Gounelle (2005, 55) notes the importance of Greek-Italian circles, which produced original legends and translations, the latter chiefly for the purpose “de nourrir la piété des communautés monastiques italogrecques, et non d’alimenter les recueils de vies des saints qui se développaient à Constantinople” (Gounelle 2005, 63). According to Sansterre (1988, 709), Byzantine monasticism in Rome reached its peak in the Carolingian age and began to decline in the last quarter of the 9th century. According to Sansterre (1983a, 153), it is “fort probable” that “l’essentiel du travail de traduction” of the passions of Roman martyrs from Latin into Greek was carried out in Rome. On the Greek translations of hagiographical Latin texts, see Lequeux (2011, 385–399) (p. 389 on the peculiarities of these translations, for instance “phonetic transcription” in the passion of Gordian BHG 2165, and the incomprehensible Greek words, in the passion of John and Paul BHG 2191). 147 See Franchi de’ Cavalieri (1915, 44). 148 See Halkin (1974a, 266), Sansterre (1983b, 181 n. 91), Aubert (1997a, 1152). 149 The auxiliary elements are “injected into the text at moments of resolution, branding, or emotional climax” (Bundy 1987, 30). 150 Bundy (1987, 30): The Emperor Julian, the great villain of Christian literature of the late empire, is presented […] as an auxiliary element to facilitate the interconnection of functions and to dramatize the Gallicanus narrative line. He is not dignified with a developed narrative line. 1 51 Halkin (1974a, 276). 152 Halkin (1974a, 278). 153 Halkin (1974a, 276, 277, 278, 283) (kaisar) and 282 (despotes). 154 Halkin (1974a, 279). Julian displays a similar attitude in ep. 115 Bidez. 155 Halkin (1974a, 279–280). 156 Halkin (1974a, 280). 157 Nostitz-Rieneck (1907, 29–33) analyses the medieval tradition according to which Julian was flayed alive and suggests it may derive from Herodotus V.25 (recounting the episode of Sisamnes, a corrupt judge who was sentenced, and whose skin was placed on the seat of the new judge – his son – by orders of Cambyses). According to a tradition known to Agathias (Hist. IV.23.7, in Keydell 1967, 153), Valerian was flayed after he was captured by the Persians; thus, confusion between the two emperors hostile to Christianity might be another factor in play. See also Trovato (2014b, 75–91). 158 Halkin (1974a, 286 n. 2). 159 Halkin (1974a, 280). 160 Halkin (1974a, 284).

“A great persecution”  123 161 The Gordian legend was influenced by that of John and Paul, according to Dufourcq (1907b, 38) (who dates them to the first half of the 6th century) and Lanzoni (1925, 239 n. 1). Since Gordian is presented as a vicarius, according to Tock (1986, 737–738) the legend emerged in the first half of the 5th century, when memory of this office was still alive. According to Dufourcq (1900, 194–195), Gordian, the father of Pope Agapetus, who was killed in 502, lies at the origin of the legend about the saint of the same name who died as a martyr sub Iuliano. The Bollandists (AASS Nov. II, 2, 242 and Delehaye 1940, 182) regard the tradition as a fabrication, and Amore (1951b, 930), Frutaz (1960a, 1056), Tock (1986, 738), and Seeliger (1995, 838) agree. Delehaye (1936b, 22), followed by Josi (1939, 26), stresses that the earliest tradition presents Gordian as a young boy, while in the later legend he becomes a vicarius of Julian’s, as also noted by Amore (1966, 117–118). 162 According to Halkin (1986b, 97) the translator is “un moine d’Italie méridionale ou de Sicile”. 163 See e.g. the beginning of the passion (Halkin 1986b, 97) and the description of the emperor’s wrath (Halkin 1986b, 100). 164 PG 117, 444–445. 165 Delehaye (1902, 182–184; this information is reprinted in Mombritius 1910, 682) and 670. 166 According to Tock (1986, 740), on the basis of other testimonies, “on peut dire que le culte des SS. Gordien et Épimaque s’est aussi répandu en Orient”. 167 PG 117, 445. 168 Delehaye (1902, 182–184). 169 Delehaye (1902, 670). 170 According to Hotzelt (1938, 5) the Byzantine tradition derives from the Roman one. 171 Delehaye (1902, 962) and Ehrhard (1937, 476 n. 5) disagree as to the relationship between the Greek passion BHG 2165 and the entries for Gordian and Epimachus in liturgical books. 172 See Yannopoulos (2020, 189–218) concerning the hypothesis of Mango (1978, 9–17) and Speck (1988b), according to which Theophanes edited material collected by his friend George Syncellus, the author of a universal chronicle reaching the year 284. According to Yannopoulos (2000, 535–547), following a first edition produced by Studite monks in the 9th century, a new edition was put together in the 10th century according to the taste of the day on the orders of Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus. This new edition, whose linguistic and historical adjustments would not reflect Theophanes’ intentions, is the one that has mostly been used for modern editions of the work. 173 According to Yannopoulos (1987, 158–166 and 1989, 307–314), the Chronographia was used as a handbook for the study of history in the 10th century. 174 Julian’s name, however, appears in the two genealogies that introduce the Chronographia, and twice in each: the first time he is mentioned as the son of Constantine’s brother Julius Costantius; the second time as the husband of Constantine’s daughter Helen. In the first genealogy he is twice called apostates (De Boor 1883, 5); in the second, parabates (De Boor 1883, 19). 175 De Boor (1883, 24). This information is given for Anno Mundi 5816 (the chronology from the creation of the world employed by Theophanes and other Byzantine authors, henceforth abbreviated to A.M.). Here Theophanes quotes almost verbatim the introduction to the list of the apostles’ successors BHG 151 (Schermann 1907a, 135), written by a forger writing only a short time later (see Chapter IV). 176 According to Pouderon (2015, 279–314), Theophanes may also have used Theodorus Lector’s Historia tripartita. Among Theophanes’ sources, Yannopoulos 1998, XLI mentions Philostorgius and the Paschal Chronicle, but not the

124  “A great persecution” Homoean source posited by Bidez. Hilkens (2015, 401–413) also rejects the idea of the use of the Homoean source. 177 De Boor (1883, 35). 178 Hansen (1995b, 56). 179 De Boor (1883, 35–36; see Yannopoulos 1995–1997, 206–207 and Yannopoulos 1998, XLIII n. 119). 180 De Boor (1883, 41). 181 A comparison between Theophanes (De Boor 1883, 45) and a passage by the medieval chronicler Michael the Syrian (Bidez 1981, 223) is far more revealing than one between Theophanes and the Epitome of the Historia tripartita 90 (Hansen 1995b, 43). On the relationship between the Homoean source, Michael the Syrian, and other Syriac medieval texts: Bidez (1981, CLII–CLIV). In particular, it is noteworthy that Julian’s wife Helen is also referred to as Constantia only by Theophanes and Michael the Syrian, which confirms their common dependence on a source now lost. A comparison with the source of the Epitome of the Historia tripartita, namely Socrates III.1.25 (Hansen 1995a, 189), is less revealing, and even fewer analogies are to be found between Sozomen V.2.20 and Theophanes. 182 Bidez (1981, 226). However, analogies are also to be found between Theophanes and Symeon the Metaphrast’s Chronicon 89.4 (Wahlgren 2006a, 112, 23–26). Bleckmann (1992a, 367) is more cautious. 183 In De Boor (1883, 46). 184 Julian’s return to paganism after his rise to the highest authority (in De Boor 1883, 46) is presented as in the Epitome of the Historia tripartita 122. 185 De Boor (1883, 46). 186 See Mordechai (2015, 451 n. 25). 187 De Boor (1883, 47). 188 Or. 21.26 (Mossay 1980, 164). There may have been an intermediate source between Gregory and Theophanes, since the account about Constantius II’s repentance is also found in other Byzantine chroniclers such as Zonaras, Constantine Manasses, and Theodore Skoutariotes. Repentance only for having fallen into the Arian heresy is mentioned by Theodoret H.E. II.32.6 (Parmentier 1998, 174). The concept occurs again in III.1 (Parmentier 1998, 177). 189 De Boor (1883, 47, 4–6). Although no explicit mention of natural disasters is made, the connection between the Apostate’s rise to power and the unleashing of divine wrath recalls a narrative device often used by Theophanes, namely the mention of extraordinary natural phenomena and genuine cataclysms, often just before the description of a baleful event for Christianity (see Maisano 1994, 285). According to Scott (2006, 63–65), the issue of Christianity’s triumph over paganism is irrelevant for Theophanes, who is more interested in the conflict between Orthodoxy and heresy; but in Julian’s case, the threefold introduction by which Theophanes stresses the importance of the emperor’s short-lived attempt at a pagan restoration should lead us to qualify Scott’s thesis. 190 De Boor (1883, 47). 191 De Boor (1883, 47, 16–20) from the Homoean source (see Bidez 1981, 227); p. 47, 20–24 from Epitome 130; pp. 47, 24–48, 3 from the Homoean source (see Bidez 1981, 228–229); p. 48, 3–8 from Epitome 126; p. 48, 8–12 on Mark of Arethusa from the Homoean source according to Bidez (1981, 229); p. 48, 12–13 on the desecration of the church in Emesa from the Homoean source (see Bidez 1981, 229; however, compared to the Paschal Chronicle, Theophanes may also have been influenced by Epitome 141 in Hansen 1995b, 60); p. 48, 13–16 on the dialectical clash between Bishop Maris and Julian from Epitome 127; p. 48, 18–27 on the law expelling Christians from schools, on Athanasius’ exile, and on Titus of Bostra from Epitome 131–133.

“A great persecution”  125 1 92 De Boor (1883, 48–49). 193 For example, the information (in De Boor 1883, 49) about the establishment of a pagan counter-Church, the worship of pagan images through the requirement to pay homage to an image of the emperor, and the episode in which soldiers collecting their wages are led to make sacrifices to the gods derives from Epitome 135–137, but with numerous omissions (e.g. Theophanes leaves out the mention of Julian’s letter to Arsacius). 194 De Boor (1883, 49). 195 Hansen (1995a, 60, 15–16). 196 De Boor (1883, 49). 197 De Boor (1883, 49). 198 For example, the same phenomenon may be observed in Pseudo-Symeon (Praechter 1897, 55 n. 6). 199 Preger (1989, 53). Theophanes does not mention the episode of Bishop Martyrius (a speaking name) – burned alive near his church – which ends the chapter in the Parastaseis; therefore, it seems more likely that he used a different source, possibly connected to the Homoean one: Philostorgius VII.3 also describes the desecration of a statue of Jesus (Bleckmann/Stein 2015a, 308). 200 As regards Jovian’s confession (in De Boor 1883, 51), Lenski (2002, 268–269) ­believes that the source used is Gelasius of Caesarea, whereas according to ­Lenski (2002, 260–261) Theophanes draws the information about Valentinian’s confession of the Christian faith in De Boor (1883, 51) from the Homoean source. As regards the miraculous death of the perfidious Thalassius (in De Boor 1883, 50–51; see Bidez 1981, 232–235), we find certain correspondences – including verbal ones – between Theophanes and the Paschal Chronicle, which however does not mention the fate of Thalassius’ wife, whereas in Theophanes (De Boor 1883, 51) We read that his wife and many Christians survived the collapse of Thalassius’ house. Other miraculous events leading up to the Apostate’s death are his failed attempt to rebuild the Jerusalem Temple and the apparition of a cross in the sky between Golgotha and the Mount of Olives (De Boor 1883, 51–52; see Bidez 1981, 235–236). 201 De Boor (1883, 52 and 53; see Bidez 1981, 236–237). 202 De Boor (1883, 52). This is immediately followed by some information about another author of an anti-Christian treatise, Porphyry of Tyre (De Boor 1883, 52), drawn from the Epitome of Historia tripartita (153). Perhaps the chronicler was at least partly familiar with Cyril’s Contra Iulianum (see Neumann 1880, 97), since the work is not mentioned in the Epitome of the Historia tripartita. 203 In De Boor (1883, 52–53). The rearrangement of the chapters of the Epitome of the Historia tripartita may be due not to any conscious choice on Theophanes’ part, but to the way in which the work was transmitted. Yannopoulos (2000, 530) does not rule out that “Théophane a inséré dans le manuscrit des fiches entières sans même les recopier”; on p. 544 he argues that, years after Theophanes’ death, the redaction “avait encore la forme de feuillets détachés et non celle d’un livre”. Therefore, it is also possible that the order in which Theophanes arranged the information sheets was changed after his death. 204 De Boor (1883, 53). Previously, Theophanes also mentions a prodigy unknown to any source before him (according to Scott 2018, 186, a sign that “he went searching for extra material”): it occurred in a rural village belonging to the diocese of Bishop Abgar, who foretold the emperor’s death (De Boor 1883, 53). A bishop by the name of Abgaros is also mentioned in Socrates II.40.45 in a list of bishops excommunicated by the Homeousian faction after the Council of Seleucia of 359. Gregory of Nazianzus, in his second invective against Julian (or. 5.2), already mentions the marvels and miraculous signs foretelling the Apostate’s death; therefore, Theophanes may be echoing one of these traditions

126  “A great persecution” (in which the protagonist is this Bishop Abgar) that emerged in the immediate aftermath of Julian’s death. After tracing back to the Homoean source the text that Theophanes had presented just before, Bidez (1981, 237) hypothesises that the episode of Bishop Abgar may also come from the same tradition. 205 A.M. 5816, whereas Theophanes sets the saint’s death almost 40 years later (A.M. 5854). 206 According to Jankowiak (2015, 61–62), Theophanes’ error derives from Syncellus’ chronological canon. According to Scott 1981, 69 Theophanes “deliberately rearranged the chronology so that Heraclius’ career would fit a suitably schematic pattern of piety and success at war under the patronage of the Mother of God from 610 to 627/8 and of impiety leading to failure in battle between 628/9 and 641 […] Similar patterns are, in my view, created by Theophanes for each of the earlier emperors through some careful editing of his sources […] The success or failure of each emperor is shown to depend on his piety”. Therefore, it cannot be ruled out that Theophanes altered Julian’s chronology on purpose. 207 De Boor (1883, 47). 208 De Boor (1883, 51). 209 Ljubarskij (1995, 318–319). 210 According to Kazhdan (1999, 233) Theophanes is not someone who merely parrots his sources: “he had strong political views – Tendenz, as P. Speck calls it – and he restructured his sources in accordance with his view”. Likewise, according to Hansen (1995b, XXIX) Theophanes makes rather original use of the Epitome of the Historia tripartita. 211 This work is known in two versions, the second of which has been published in a critical edition by De Boor, according to whom the first was the original version, later revised by the author himself (De Boor 1978, LXVIII–LXIX; Wallraff/Stutz/Marinides 2017, LXXIII–LXXVIII). According to Afinogenov (1999, 444–446) only the first version can be attributed to George the Monk, while the second one is actually a rewriting of the work by another author. This second version, attested by 30-odd manuscripts, enjoyed far greater popularity than the first, which is attested by a single manuscript and by an ancient Russian version (see Afinogenov 2004, 239 and 246). Be that as it may, as far as Julian’s reign is concerned, the two versions do not differ substantially (see De Boor 1978, LXII). 212 According to Kosiński (2017, 63), George the Monk’s source is not Theophanes but a source “based on Theophanes’ work”. 213 Mango (1988–1989, 370) describes the preface as “notable for its obscurantism, its vitriolic character, and its bad Greek”. 214 Previous mention is made of a passage on the Constantinids’ genealogy (De Boor 1978, 490). 215 De Boor (1978, 535). In Epitome 120 we read first of the monastic tonsure, then of the two brothers’ ordination as lectores, and finally of the building of a church to St Mamantis; therefore, as far as the succession of facts is concerned, the source of George the Monk’s initial information on Julian would appear to be Theophanes, not the Epitome. Later on, however, it is the Epitome and not Theophanes’ work which George seems to be combining with Theodoret of Cyrrhus’ Historia Ecclesiastica in his presentation of Julian’s reign (Hansen 1995b, XXX wonders whether George the Monk depends on Theophanes or directly on the Epitome; however, at least as far Julian’s reign is concerned, it seems more likely that the latter work is the source of most of the information provided). George the Monk may therefore have altered the succession of events (ordination as lector – monastic tonsure) which he had found in the Epitome of the Historia tripartita, independently of Theophanes. He adds a detail compared to Theophanes and the Epitome of the Historia tripartita, however, as

“A great persecution”  127 he stresses that the two brothers were lectors in Antioch (De Boor 1978, 535). In Sozomen V.2.10 the two young brothers are presented as members of the clergy and said to read Scripture out to the people while they are still living in Macellum, in Cappadocia. 216 De Boor (1978, 535). 217 See De Boor (1978, LXXIII). Gregory of Nazianzus focuses on Julian’s failure as an architect in the first invective (or. 4.25–29), yet we find no close analogies with George the Monk’s text, which would therefore seem to be independent of it. 218 De Boor (1978, 535–536). In following Theodoret, George the Monk introduces an innovation compared to the Epitome. Using one sentence from Theodoret and another from the Epitome, George the Monk adds that Julian’s impiety revealed itself through his desire to become emperor once the impure blood of sacrifices had washed away his baptism, and just after Constantius II had raised him to the rank of Caesar, only to die, making his cousin sole emperor (De Boor 1978, 536). Perhaps George the Monk omits to mention Julian’s victories on the Rhine and his rebellion because of a hasty reading of Epitome 122, which in connection to Constantius II’s death and the acknowledgement of Julian as sole emperor states that his baptism was washed in blood (Hansen 1995b, 56). Alongside the Epitome, Theodoret H.E. III.3.5 is also used, as is evident from a sentence that occurs in exactly the same form in George the Monk (Parmentier 1998, 178). Both in Theodoret and in the Epitome, Julian’s appointment as Caesar and rebellion against his cousin are described before Constantius II’s death, while the brief references to the Apostate’s childhood and youth are provided after the information about his cousin’s death: a hasty compiler basing his account of Julian on what is stated after Constantius II’s death could easily be led to overlook what is stated before it. 219 George the Monk devotes much of the chapter on Constantius II (De Boor 1978, 536–539) to events related to Church history. 220 With the exception of an initial remark on how it was God’s will that allowed Julian to become emperor (De Boor 1978, 539). 221 A rhetorical description of pillaged churches and blood-spattered columns can be found in Gregory’s first invective (or. 4.86). 222 Parmentier (1998, 182). 223 De Boor (1978, 539). George the Monk’s text is similar to Epitome 153 and Theophanes’ text (De Boor 1883, 52), but George diverges from both the previous texts (which are similar to each other) on account of certain lexical changes and to the fact that he mentions Porphyry not in the Julian chapter, but at the beginning. 224 De Boor (1978, 539–540). 225 De Boor (1978, 544). Theophanes’ text (in De Boor 1883, 52) is very similar, since it also derives from Epitome 147; however, George the Monk draws directly upon Epitome 147, as is evident from a comparison (Hansen 1995b, 61). 226 De Boor (1978, 545–546). In a footnote, De Boor suggests Socrates III.26.1 as a source, but George the Monk explicitly quotes, with a few abridgements, a passage from or. 21.33 (Mossay 1980, 180) by Gregory of Nazianzus, who in the second invective also mentions Julian’s burial in Tarsus (Or. 5.18.2). 227 In De Boor (1978, 546–547). 228 De Boor (1978, 546). This episode derives from the very popular collection of the Apophthegmata patrum. It occurs in an essentially identical form in the socalled systematic collection of the Apophthegmata patrum XII.12 CPG 5562, the only difference being the fact that in this collection Julian does not threaten to wipe out all the monks, but only Publius (Guy 2003, 216). In Historia religiosa 2.14 Theodoret of Cyrrhus reports that the monk Julian Sabas prayed for ten days in a row before learning about the Apostate’s looming death in a vision.

128  “A great persecution” More specifically, he mentions Julian’s plans to destroy Christianity after the war, and how his supporters anxiously awaited his “accursed return” from Persia (Canivet/Leroy-Molinghen 1977, 224). Another protagonist of the Historia religiosa is a monk by the name of Publius, the scion of a wealthy noble family: these emerge as the defining elements of the legend, which was subsequently developed in the systematic collection of the Apophthegmata patrum and is also attested in a Latin translation of this collection, in which Julian states: Cum regressus fuero, faciam in eum vindictam (De vitis patrum VI.2.12 in PL 73, 1003). It cannot be ruled out that this legend is related to that of Mercurius and Basil: in both cases the Apostate, who is busy planning or leading his Persian campaign, threatens to avenge himself upon his return, but divine providence prevents him from doing so and one of his followers converts to Christianity. Guy 1962, 65 notes the presence (no. 409) in the “normal alphabetical-anonymous” collection of the episode in which Publius defeats the demon sent by Julian (pp. 11–12 on the difference between the alphabetical-anonymous collections and the systematic ones). See Regnault (1981, 320–330) on the circulation of the Apophthegmata patrum in 5th- and 6th-century Palestinian milieus, where pilgrims and traditions converged and then spread out. Badilita (2004, 575–576 and 584) follows Regnault’s hypothesis, suggesting that 6th-century Greek-speaking Palestinian milieus lie at the origin of the alphabetical-anonymous collection, and hence of the systematic one, which draws upon the former. 229 See Beck (1965, 193). Ljubarskij (1994, 263): in George the Monk, the “nature of a monk very often prevails over that of a chronicler”. According to Mango (1988–1989, 370) his work differs from other Byzantine chronicles in that “he is not at all interested in history”. 230 Reportedly, the first martyr of iconoclasm was the monk Andrew of Crete, who according to Theophanes called Constantine V “a new Valens and Julian” Constantine V (De Boor 1883, 432, in A. M. 6253). See Rochow (1991a, 176–178), according to whom the name of Constantine V’s adversary was actually Peter, not Andrew. Moreover, according to Theophanes (A. M. 6263 in De Boor 1883, 446; “Diese Erzählung ist stark legendär” for Rochow 1994, 66) the emperor fully approved Michael Lachanodrakon’s efforts to wipe out monasticism in the theme he governed as strategos. On the enmity between Constantine V and monks (which, according to more recent studies, has been over-emphasised), see Gero (1977, 121–142) and Brubaker/Haldon (2011, 199 and 268–269). 231 Kazhdan (2006, 51) describes one of the defining features of George the Monk’s work as follows: “Good and evil are clear-cut, distinct: the monks are in principle good, and the Iconoclasts consistently evil”. See also Treadgold (2013, 116): “a monk of limited education, who expresses his suspicion of secular learning and of excessive cleverness”. 232 De Boor (1978, 752). 233 Gregory (or. 4.77 in Bernardi 1983, 198) was the first to use the term “Idolian” with reference to Julian. 234 De Boor (1978, 547–548). Also at the beginning of the Julian section, George the Monk stresses that it would be impossible to describe all the anti-Christian actions undertaken sub Iuliano (De Boor 1978, 539–540). 235 According to Kazhdan (2006, 50), George the Monk’s public “was in search of entertainment, and they got it in George’s Chronicle in the form of anecdotes, miraculous phenomena, and atrocities committed by evil personages, as well as in the form of trivial inculcations with references, whether true or otherwise, to biblical and patristic authorities”. 236 Kazhdan (2006, 45). 237 Schermann (1903, 320).

VI Even the dead against Julian

VI.1  The legend of Mercurius VI.1.1  The tradition of Julian’s divine punishment and the prophecies about his death According to a legend first found in Greek literature in the 6th-century writings of Malalas (XIII.25) and also attested in Byzantine art,1 Julian was miraculously killed, in accordance with God’s will, by a military saint:2 Mercurius of Caesarea in Cappadocia. The tradition according to which Julian died on the battlefield through divine intervention was already widespread. Fifth-century Church historians describe supernatural interventions by angels and saints against the enemies of the faith, and not merely in relation to Julian.3 For example, in Historia Armeniae or Buzandaran Patmut’iwnk’ IV.10 (traditionally attributed to one “Faustus of Byzantium”) the people responsible for Valens’ death are saints Sergius and Theodorus.4 In the 4th century, pagan authors such as Libanius (or. 17.23)5 and Callistus6 mention a demon in relation to the Apostate’s death. Sozomen (VI.2) is the first author known to us to describe the appearance of two anonymous saints entrusted with punishing the sovereign by a heavenly assembly. He presents it as a night vision had by a follower of Julian’s.7 The passion of Eusignius (BHG 638 and 639) generically refers to a blow from sky,8 as does the pre-Metaphrastean passion of Manuel Sabel and Ishmael (BHG 1023).9 The passion of Theodoret of Antioch (BHG 2425) wavers between two alternatives: divine intervention and human responsibility;10 but in the corresponding entry in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion only the former possibility is recorded.11 Also widespread alongside this tradition12 was another about dreams or visions foretelling the Apostate’s death, according to a scheme also applied to other figures.13 Already, Gregory of Nazianzus bears witness to the circulation of rumours on dreams and visions of this kind (or. 5.2); but given the peculiar nature of his invectives, which are designed to ridicule his opponent and destroy his charisma, Gregory prefers to present Julian’s death as something he faces unprepared, owing to his foolishness, or even brings upon himself.14

DOI: 10.4324/9781003179818-6

130  Even the dead against Julian By contrast, for later Christian authors the Apostate’s death was miraculously made known to saints across different geographical areas:15 in Theodoret (H.E. III.24.3), St Julian, known as Sabas, is the first to learn about the death of the emperor who bears his name, and who is referred to as a “wild pig”.16 In Sozomen (VI.2.6–8) and Palladius (Historia lausiaca 4.4), Didymus of Alexandria has a vision,17 which he then shares with Athanasius of Alexandria. Likewise, according to a letter addressed to Theophilus of Alexandria, and traditionally attributed to the Egyptian bishop Ammon, Julian’s death was simultaneously announced by Ammon and Theodorus to the exiled St Athanasius:18 this miraculous knowledge of the event is a “hagiographic cliché”19 derived from another source. VI.1.2  Origins of the legend of Mercurius as Julian’s killer The legend of Mercurius combines the traditions about the divine wrath that caused Julian’s death with those about visions and prophecies: the saint is presented as responsible for delivering the mortal blow to the emperor, in narratives sometimes made up of often heterogeneous material of varied provenance. For the most part, this episode is connected to a vision and prayer of St Basil, from which the tradition about his friendship with the emperor also emerges. The two saints who, according to Sozomen (VI.2), were seen to kill the Apostate and a follower of his are anonymous. In their initial stage the legends probably did not mention the killers’ names,20 since what mattered was the reference to divine will as the cause of the emperor’s death. In the Apophthegmata patrum (Collectio systematica XII.12 - CPG 5562), Julian threatens to kill a monk who is interfering with a demon in his service, but later on the Apostate’s death is described in just a few words (“he was killed by Providence”).21 No mention is made of any saint, possibly because this account bears witness to an ancient phase of the legend, or because the narrative – featured in a section of the Apophthegmata patrum devoted to prayer – is reduced to the bare essentials, so as to focus on the importance of the monk’s prayers. The first saint to be presented as responsible for Julian’s death is Kyrion (Mar Qorios in Syriac), one of the 40 Martyrs of Sebaste killed under ­Licinius’ reign, in a Syriac life of Eusebius of Samosata (BHO 294).22 This life consists in the translation of two Greek texts that are now lost, the first of which featured Kyrion.23 Mar Qorios and the 40 Martyrs of Sebaste also appear in the so-called first Syriac Romance on Julian,24 a lengthy, fanciful text that was probably written in Edessa between the 4th and 6th century.25 This work enjoyed considerable popularity in Christian communities speaking Oriental languages, so much so that it was even translated into Arabic.26 The legend of Mercurius appears here in a peculiar form compared to its later development in the Byzantine tradition: the vision foretelling the

Even the dead against Julian  131 Apostate’s death is received not by a saint, but by the future emperor Jovian, who in the romance repeatedly attempts to check the sovereign’s cruelty. The author (or authors) of the text collected and sought to harmonise various stages and sources27 of the Julian legend which was then taking shape, sometimes with contradictory outcomes: the romance has been described as a hagiographical collection of different works, brought together through the figure of Julian,28 which serves as the unifying element. On the one hand, the work constantly and almost obsessively stresses the Apostate’s cruelty and perfidiousness: he is described as a violent persecutor, according to the tone used in epic passions. On the other hand, the text acknowledges the novel quality of Julian’s anti-Christian policy, including his wish to avoid creating martyrs. For example, in a lengthy, fanciful episode partly based on the topoi of epic passions, during a completely fabricated sojourn in Rome the emperor orders the arrest and cruel torturing of the almost centenarian Pope Eusebius, who is destined to be burned alive. However, in a coup de théâtre, Eusebius is freed just as the Apostate is about to set out for the East. In other passages of the work as well, Julian revokes the cruel measures he had ordered against the Christians at the very last moment.29 The Homoean source would also appear to have left a similar trace in this work to that which we find in the Chronicon Paschale: Constantius II, who is dying surrounded by bishops, is presented as a just sovereign; he is praised by a heavenly voice and described by the narrator as Constantine’s worthy heir.30 The presence of different elements and stages of the Julian legend also marks the tradition about his death. In a dream, Jovian, who in the romance is the Apostate’s main (and crypto-Christian) minister, sees one of the 40 Martyrs by the name of “Marcur” holding three arrows, one of which is for Julian.31 The emperor has a premonitory dream as well in which 40 warriors threaten him:32 a clear allusion to the 40 Martyrs of Sebaste. However, when we reach the moment of the decisive clash between the Roman army and the Persian one, no mention is made of the 40 Martyrs: divine intervention is entrusted to a heavenly voice that foretells the war’s outcome33 and frightens Sapor, not Julian, who is instead struck down by an arrow from the sky. Just as in the case of the alternation between Julian as an open persecutor and Julian as a secret persecutor, the author mentions both hypotheses when it comes to the possible causes of his death (a saint’s action, or more generally heavenly intervention).34 It is likely, then, that St Kyrion – referred to as Mar Qorios by a Syriac-speaking community based in Cappadocian ­Caesarea – was venerated with the name of Mercurius, and hence that his role as the warrior saint responsible for Julian’s death was then acquired by the fictional St Mercurius.35 Various alternative theories have been formulated concerning the origins of Mercurius’ cult and legend.36 In any case, the figure of this saint must have emerged through the spread of legends about the Apostate’s miraculous death, for otherwise it would be difficult to explain the complete silence

132  Even the dead against Julian about Mercurius on the part of ancient Christian writers, and particularly the Cappadocian Fathers, seeing that according to tradition he was a mid3rd-century martyr from Caesarea.37 VI.1.3  Julian in the St Mercurius legend Julian is presented with various nuances in the texts transmitting the legend of St Mercurius. The redaction (BHG 1005) of the Life of St Macarius the Roman simply states that he was struck down by the saint,38 whereas in the Syriac life of Eusebius of Samosata (BHO 294 I) the tone is one of explicit condemnation.39 Likewise, in John of Damascus’ Contra imaginum calumniatores I.60, not only is Julian’s name accompanied by the epithet parabates, but he is described as “the atheist and apostate tyrant” who was killed as a consequence of Basil’s prayers.40 In addition to the so-called Syriac Romance, where Julian is constantly subjected to insults that almost come across as weak epithets on account of the excessive use that is made of them, a more complex picture is provided by Malalas and by the Vita Basilii attributed to Amphilochius through these texts’ peculiar interpretation of the relationship between Julian and Basil. Malalas (XIII.25), followed by the Chronicon Paschale (cf. Chapter IV), describes a night-time vision in which St Basil learns of the Apostate’s miraculous death at St Mercurius’ hands and is saddened by the news because of his friendship with the emperor, who often wrote to him. The chronicler therefore bears witness to the circulation of the idea of a friendship between the saint and the sovereign,41 which to some extent is also presupposed by a Coptic version of the Acts of St Mercurius.42 Moreover, we find an echo of the correspondence transmitted under the names of the saint and the emperor, and particularly of the friendly letter (ep. 32 Bidez) that Julian addressed to a certain Basil, inviting him to his court. This figure is generally believed to be a namesake of the saint from Caesarea, although it cannot be ruled out that the letter was indeed addressed to the future bishop.43 The significant divergence with respect to the satisfaction with which Didymus, Julian Sabas, Ammon, and Theodorus learn about the Apostate’s fate is all too evident. Basil’s sadness upon being informed of his friend’s death is unique not only within the tradition about St Mercurius, but in Byzantine literature as a whole. In this peculiar version of the legend, the figure of Julian is not yet reduced to a sheer embodiment of evil against which divine wrath is unleashed. According to Malalas, at the beginning of the Persian war Julian ordered Dometius to be walled up alive (cf. Chapter IV); the portrayal he offers of Julian as a friend of the Church Father is therefore not entirely consistent. Even less consistent is the portrayal we find in the Chronicon Paschale, where this particular version of the relationship between Basil and Julian is inserted after the martyrology derived from the Homoean source.

Even the dead against Julian  133 In the Vita Basilii attributed to Basil’s friend St Amphilochius, but probably representing a compilation put together centuries later,44 we find Julian’s death among the various miracles attributed to the saint. In this episode (BHG 250) the relationship between the two figures is presented in less surprising terms compared to Malalas. The Apostate does not simply appear as the saint’s target at the moment of his death; indeed, his role in the narrative is actually expanded. The miracle is preceded by a dialectical confrontation between the emperor and the Bishop of Caesarea, in which the Apostate is cast in the role of a hysterical and vengeful tyrant45 who threatens to destroy the city upon his return from the Persian war. Julian then exits the stage and is later mentioned by Basil, who urges the people of Caesarea to offer the tyrant some money in an attempt to appease his anger. He is also mentioned by the Mother of God, who appears before the bishop in a vision and asks Mercurius to kill Julian. The dialogue between the emperor and the bishop is clearly linked to the tradition of a no doubt spurious correspondence between the two (BHG 260b),46 which ought not be confused with the aforementioned ep. 32 Bidez. These letters present the Apostate as a braggart47 who threatens (ep. 40 = 205 Bidez) to raze Caesarea to the ground,48 setting him in contrast to the unwavering saint.49 This spurious correspondence, anterior to Pseudo-Amphilochius’ text, would appear to have originated within Gregory of Nazianzus’ family, since Gregory’s invectives provide the starting point for the situation assumed by the forger of the letters.50 Indeed, the invectives portray Basil as an enemy of the Apostate’s, when in fact other passages by Gregory bear witness to an internal conflict within the Church in Caesaria, suggesting that Julian may have supported the very faction led by Basil.51 This spurious correspondence would also appear to lie at the origin of the dramatisation of the conflict between the emperor and the bishop, in connection with the legend of St Mercurius.52 In this version, Julian is no longer a friend of Basil’s but is actually presented as his antagonist: as someone destined to be defeated, even verbally, by Christianity, embodied by the Bishop of Caesarea. Paradoxically, it may be that the emperor originally set in juxtaposition to the bishop embodying Orthodoxy was the Arian Valens: in this retelling of the legend, the influence has been detected of a tradition originally associated with the relationship between the Arian emperor and the Orthodox bishop.53 The transfer of legends from one enemy of Orthodoxy to another, and from one saint to another, is a further indicator of the predominance of topoi over historical fact. More generally, pseudo-Amphilochius’ collection of legends on St Basil may include legends, or elements of legends, originally pertaining to other saints,54 or which later came to be associated with other saints.55 For example, the legendary episode of Basil praying to the Virgin Mary for Christians’ salvation from the threatening figure of the Apostate has certain similarities to the legend of St Theophilus (BHG 1319 and 1320– 1322) who, after having sold his soul to the devil, was saved by the Virgin’s intercession. His miraculous intervention is not a very stringent analogy in

134  Even the dead against Julian itself, but in the Theophilus legend we also find an episode closely reminiscent of Basil’s dream. Just as Basil, after three days of prayer, has a dream in which the Mother of God orders Mercurius to kill Julian, so Theophilus, after three days of prayer, has a dream in which the Virgin Mary grants him his desires by handing back to him the pact by which he had sold his soul to the devil.56 VI.1.4  The legend of Mercurius in Egypt and Nubia The legend of Mercurius as Julian’s killer circulated widely in Egypt on ­account of the popularity of the saint’s cult. Although no mention of Mercurius’ miracle is made in the Synaxarion of Alexandria, it occurs in the History of the Church of Alexandria, a work from the late 5th or early 6th century that derives this information from the same source used by Pseudo-­ Amphilochius’ Vita Basilii (BHG 250). The History of the Church of Alexandria is the source of the account of Julian’s miraculous death at Mercurius’ hands which is appended to the Coptic passion of this saint. The Coptic collection of his miracles also opens with a description of the emperor’s death.57 The cult of Mercurius likewise enjoyed considerable popularity in Nubia,58 as did the legend of the Apostate’s miraculous death. This is recounted as a vision had by an Egyptian saint in a Greek text that is only known from a manuscript discovered among the ruins of the Qasr Ibrim cathedral.59 In this version of the legend, which derives from Egyptian versions,60 the vision is had by the Egyptian Pachomius, who actually died before Julian: Mercurius is praised as a brave warrior capable of striking the enemy sovereign as he stands among his dignitaries, breaking through all his defences.61 The hagiographer’s emphasis on the saint’s military aspect is unsurprising, given that warrior saints (such as George and Demetrius, in addition to Mercurius) were very popular in medieval Christian Nubia on account of the strong cultural bond it maintained with Byzantium62 and the threat posed by Islamic Egypt.63 The Nubian hagiographer thus appears to see Julian, the enemy of Christianity, not so much as the restorer of paganism as a stand-in for the caliphs or sovereigns of neighbouring Egypt.64

VI.2  The kollyba legend Mercurius is not the only military saint who is credited in Byzantine legends with a posthumous miracle against the Apostate. According to a tradition found in several hagiographical texts, St Theodore the Tyro, venerated as a martyr of the great persecution of the early 4th century,65 appeared to the Bishop of Constantinople in a dream to warn him that Julian and the prefect of the city had secretly contaminated the food to be sold at the public market out of hatred for the Christians. After receiving the saint’s warning, the faithful therefore fed themselves with kollyba (boiled wheat), and in memory of this miracle, the Orthodox feast of kollyba was established.66

Even the dead against Julian  135 The origins of the legend can be traced back to passages written by 4th- and 5th-century Syrian authors that relate how the Apostate revived the practice of blood sacrifice, thereby contaminating – in the eyes of Christians – the city of Antioch. For example, after John Chrysostom,67 Theodoret riles against this act of profanation (H.E. III.15.2). Significantly, however, according to this historian, the Christians, who were left with no alternative, chose to partake of the contaminated food anyway, reassured by a passage from Paul’s First Epistle to the Corinthians.68 This attitude of resignation changes completely with the legend of the kollyba, thanks to which Theodorus is said to have miraculously scotched Julian’s plans. Moreover, the legend is often set in Constantinople, according to a reinterpretation of the tradition that reflects the centrality acquired by the imperial capital. The Sermo de festo s. Theodori (CPG 4300 = BHG 1768), apparently the first text describing the kollyba miracle, would seem to have been written no earlier than the 6th century.69 It is clearly influenced by epic passions and possibly also by Gregory of Nazianzus,70 since Julian’s action is initially (Chapter 6) presented as a steady succession of tortures, amputations, and other torments: For what purpose are we to report the many tortures devised against the Christians by that atheist (stomachs cut open, innards chopped up, violent lashings, men flayed, eyes gouged out, teeth pulled out from the root, evil flames of various sorts, burning irons, cauldrons, skewers, pots, and the many instruments of death he then inflicted upon the Christians)? Later on in the same chapter, however, the author points to the change in strategy adopted by the Apostate. The hagiographer draws upon the topoi of epic passions, including that of a bloody persecution, yet seems aware of the fact that the kollyba miracle presupposes a different situation. To resolve this contradiction,71 he notes that by slaughtering all the Christians, the emperor would have lost his subjects and hence his power:72 the hagiographer thus assumes that the empire was already Christian by that time. For this reason, by contaminating the food at the market Julian is attempting a bloodless persecution which fails thanks to the saint’s miraculous intervention. By contrast, according to another passion of Theodore the Tyro (BHG 1762m) attributed to Nikephoros Ouranos, a friend and contemporary of Symeon the Metaphrast’s, it was envy of the glory of martyrdom that led the Apostate to abandon his plans for a violent persecution. Subsequently, after having developed the stratagem to contaminate food, Julian de facto exits the stage.73 In his description of St Theodore the Tyro’s passion and miracles (BHG 1763), Symeon the Metaphrast on the one hand agrees with the narrative of BHG 1768 (or a similar passion), which he was drawing upon,74 as he explains that Julian switched to a bloodless persecution after the failure of a violent

136  Even the dead against Julian one. But on the other hand he follows Gregory of Nazianzus in recounting events from the Apostate’s reign, as he does in others of his hagiographical texts. For example, the Metaphrast draws upon a passage from the funerary oration for Athanasius (or. 21.32) in which Gregory describes Julian’s persecution as most inhumane.75 His description of Julian’s bloodless persecution also relies on Gregory, and in turn it influenced a later hagiographer, John Mauropous, who follows Gregory in one of the texts he wrote in honour of St Theodore the Tyro (BHG 1770).76 Gregory and the Metaphrast deemed Julian’s persecution to be most violent, and for Mauropous as well Julian was the harshest persecutor: a versatile one who devised all sorts of stratagems against Christianity.77 The entry on Theodore the Tyro in the Imperial Menologion (deriving precisely from the Metaphrast’s text) also states that Julian was the fiercest persecutor and goes so far as to describe him as Satan’s son,78 in keeping with the general tendency displayed by the menologion’s compilers (cf. Chapter VIII) to darken even further the already gloomy tones in which the Apostate is presented in the hagiographical tradition. A very negative judgement is also expressed in Theodore the Tyro’s collection of miracles composed by Constantine Akropolites (BHG 1769n), who describes Julian as a wicked tyrant.79 Even harsher tones are used by the anonymous author of the Carmen de colybis (BHG 1769) who, in the 13th century, after hurling a volley of insults at the Apostate, labels the “Italians” (Italoi) as “Julians”, accusing them of dominating Constantinople with arbitrariness and violence, and of polluting the Eucharist through the use of unleavened bread: “Among us there are again ruinous men in the imperial city of Byzantium, a tyrannical power, a lawless force; I say that these Italians are Julians”.80 This reinterpretation of the legend therefore stands out on account of the author’s explicit references to his age. The anti-Julian polemic by Theodorus’ other hagiographers lacks any such references, and it is difficult to identify in their texts any coeval ­figure behind that of the Apostate. By contrast, the vehemence with which the poet explicitly attacks the hateful “Italians” and an “apostate Satan” shows that he borrowed not just the terminology of Gregory of Nazianzus’ invectives against the Apostate,81 but also their bitterly polemical attitude, which he deployed against the schismatic Latins in an age in which the use of unleavened bread was among the most important and hotly debated ­issues.82 Gregory’s bitter language and attitude are thus echoed by the Carmen’s violent polemic against a new Julian.

Notes 1 On St Mercurius and Julian in Byzantine art and Eastern Christianity, see Bordier (1883, 83–85), Binon (1937b, 109–134), Weitzmann (1942–1943, 114–117), Galavaris (1969, 146–147 and 211), Meinardus (1972–1973, 112–115), Weitzmann (1976, 78–79), Walter (1978, 247–248), Der Nersessian (1987, 158), Curta (1992, 16–18), Brubaker (1999, 234–235), Walter (1999, 180), Lucchesi-Palli (1982, 162–169), Micheli (1999, 19), Walter (2003, 106–107), and Brubaker (2007, 59, 65 and 79).

Even the dead against Julian  137 In  a description of Constantinople from the second half of the 11th century, known through a Latin translation, mention is made of a tomb of Mercurius (Ciggaar 1976, 262). 2 On military saints in Byzantine hagiography, see Delehaye (1909a) and Walter (2003). 3 Theodoret H.E. V.24.5–6, Socrates VI.6.18, and Sozomen VIII.4.12–13. 4 On Buzandaran Patmut’iwnk’ (a work that has been supposed to be an Armenian tradition from the Greek): Traina (2001, 405–413). According to Garsoïan (1989, 11), this work dates from the 470s. According to Calzolari (1997, 39), this is a work from the second half of the 5th century but based on earlier material. According to Uluhogian (2001, 187), the work “nella sua forma attuale, non può essere datata oltre gli anni ‘70 del V secolo”. 5 Förster (1904, 215–216). 6 Known from a quotation in Socrates III.21.14 (Hansen 1995a, 217). These mentions by Libanius and Socrates are “Ansätze zu mythenhafter Erklärung” of Julian’s death according to Nostitz-Rieneck (1907, 10). 7 Unlike Sozomen, Theodoret of Cyrrhus does not feature this scene of a heavenly assembly, but his belief that divine will lies behind Julian’s death is evident in H.E. III.25.7 (Parmentier 1998, 204). Theodoret is followed by George the Monk (in De Boor 1978, 545). 8 Klien-Paweletz (2002, 184), Devos (1982, 227), Latyšev (1915, 88). 9 AASS Iun. III, 296. 10 Halkin (1986a, 137). 11 Delehaye (1902, 503–504). 12 On the circulation of a similar tradition in Persia, attested by the Sassanid bas-relief on the Taq-e-Bostan, where Julian is shown lying dead under Ahura Mazda’s feet: Trümpelmann (1975, 107–111), Azarpay (1982, 181–187), Nicholson (1983, 177–178), Azarnousch (1991, 322–329). This tradition is connected to the so-called Syriac Romance on Julian by Van Esbroeck (1987, 199) and Muraviev (1999b, 205). 13 See Consolino (1989, 242) and Wortley (1980b, 558). Wortley (1980b, 534–537) distinguishes between three kinds of legends in Byzantium: “hagiographical legends” used by the hagiographer “to enhance the reputation of his hero”; “chronographical legends”, which are “more fixed and less mobile” than the hagiographical ones; and “detached legends”, which are not incorporated into the lives of saints or chronicles, but rather independent documents in which the writer is “under no compunction to attach a name or to assign a time to his story: consequently the ‘detached’ legends tend to be very vague as to who and when”. The first two categories often overlap, and as an example of this Wortley (1980b, 536 n. 2) mentions the legend of Julian’s death: Even a legend which is firmly ‘pinned down’ by certain data of time and place can still change its other points of reference. There is the strange case of the supernatural communication of the news of Julian the Apostate’s death on 26 June 363. 14 Lugaresi (1997, 71). 15 Criscuolo (2005, 791) associates these traditions with the prediction Julian made of Constantius II’s death (according to Libanius or. 18.118). 16 Parmentier (1998, 203). See also Historia religiosa 2.14 by Theodoret (Canivet/ Leroy-Molinghen 1977, 224). In the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion, Julian Sabas calls Julian “the impure and fetid pig” (Delehaye 1902, 399). 17 This vision is a Christian adaptation of pagan legends concerning the Dioscuri’s apparition (see Cracco Ruggini 1972, 265–266). 18 Gohering (1986, 156). These traditions about visions of the Apostate’s death, in which Athanasius plays an important role, may be seen to lie behind the

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prophecy of Julian’s death (PG 65, 164) attributed to him in the alphabetical collection of the Apophthegmata patrum (Epiphanius 1). This tradition is taken up by Michael Glykas (Bekker 1836a, 466). In Sozomen IV.10.6–7 Athanasius’ prophecy concerns the closing down of pagan temples in 356. Presumably, then, this saying came to be associated with Julian’s death after the mid-5th century (see Guy 1993, 83) and represents further evidence of the ease with which legendary traditions could be modified and readapted. See also Teofane (De Boor 1883, 53, 4–10) concerning another prodigy of this kind. Gohering (1986, 111 and 291), who draws upon the definition by Lefort 1943, LVII. The first editor of the letter (BHG 1397), addressed to the Patriarch of Alexandria Theophilus between 384 and 412, regards it as genuine (Halkin 1932, 27*). By contrast, according to Gohering (1986, 121), who repeats some doubts already voiced by Lefort (1943, LXI), the letter is “a literary creation, possibly designed on the Vita Antonii”. According to Gohering 1986, 183, Bishop Ammon “is not known […] no certain connection with any figure outside of the letter can be made”, although one Ammonius, Bishop of Pachemunis, is attested in the 4th century (Fedalto 1988, 624). On Theodorus and Ammon’s vision, see Martin (1996, 572). Orlandi (1968, 94). Guy (2003, 216). The origins of the legend describing St Kyrion as Julian’s killer are unknown. However, it may be no coincidence that the ancient texts on the 40 Martyrs (on which see Franchi de’ Cavalieri 1928, 155–184 and Karlin-Hayter 1991, 249–304) stress their fame as miracle-workers, and that an important role in the spread of the 40 Martyrs’ cult – initially centred in Anatolia – was played by Basil the Great’s family (Maraval 1999, 193–209). For example, in the sermon In Quadraginta martyres II CPG 3189=BHG 1208 (on which see Mühlenberg 2012, 115–132), Gregory of Nyssa describes miracles and visions in relation to the 40 Martyrs’ relics (Heil/Cavarnos/Lendle 1990, 166–167). In homily XIX In quadraginta martyres Sebastenses CPG 2863=BHG 1205 (published in PG 31, 508–525), Basil the Great instead mentions – towards the end (Chapter 8) – the fact that people seek their aid when they find themselves in need (PG 31, 524). On the 40 Martyrs and St Kyrion as a warrior saint, see Walter 2003, 170–176, who concludes: “the XL Martyrs rarely undertake the specific offices of warrior saints. Kyrion only dispatches Julian the Apostate after he has been transmuted into Mercurius”. The first text is partly based on Theodoret of Cyrrhus’ Historia ecclesiastica and hence posterior to the mid-5th century (see Devos 1967, 201, followed by Boulhol 2004, 113). According to Conti (2005, 107), who does not quote the text from Devos’ edition, the Syriac Vita of Eusebius of Samosata BHO 294 was composed around the mid-5th century; according to Teja/Acerbi (2009, 189), it was composed in the second half of the 5th century. According to Gribomont (1971, 488), the reference to Mar Qorios as Julian’s killer in the Syriac life of Eusebius of Samosata BHO 294 is a later interpolation and not evidence of an archaic stage of the legend. According to Van Esbroeck (1987, 196), followed by Muraviev (1999b, 204), the two so-called romances actually make up a single text. According to Van Esbroeck (1984a, 132 and 1988, 191), this text actually falls within the literary genre of hagiography (Nestle 1889, 109 had already compared the romance with other hagiographical texts in relation to the role played in the narrative by Eusebius of Rome); Van Esbroeck (1995, 102) describes the texts as “plutôt une Pénitence de l’Empire dont le personage culminant est Jovien”, identifying possible precedents within the literary genre of accounts of visions. According to Muraviev

Even the dead against Julian  139 (1999b, 196), this is a “hagiographical romance”. By contrast, according to Drijvers (1994, 214), the text does not belong to the hagiographical genre, but is rather a work of religious propaganda. Drijvers (2007, 19) describes the Eusebius episode as a “self-glorifying Christian text, which has hagiographical and eschatological traits”. See Kaldellis (2015, 113) on the “bias against Constantinople” in the romance. 25 See Nöldeke (1874, 283–284) on Edessa as the place of redaction. According to Van Esbroeck (1987, 192 and 194), the original text of the so-called Syriac romances was written in Greek not long after Julian’s death, or at any rate before the mid-5th century (see also Van Esbroeck 1989, 264–265 and 1999a, 135; a date very close to Julian’s death is also suggested by Rosen 2006, 399). Likewise, according to Muraviev (1999a, 359–365) some parts of the Syriac Romance were originally written in Greek and then translated first into Syriac and finally into Arabic, and integrated with the addition of other parts (instead, according to Contini 2003, 137, no signs of a translation from the Greek are to be found in the second Syriac Romance). According to Muraviev (2001a, 249), the text is anterior to the mid-5th century. According to Drijvers (1994, 202–203), it was written under the influence of Ephrem the Syrian’s in Edessa, probably shortly after 379, the year of Sapor II’s death (an influence from Ephrem is deemed unlikely by Muraviev 1999b, 199). Drijvers (1999, 38) confirms Edessa as the likely place of origin and on p. 5 describes the romance as “a compilation of three texts which probably originated independently of each other”. More specifically, Drijvers 2007, 13 suggests the late 5th century as the date of composition of the second episode (in which Julian confronts Bishop Eusebius in Rome) and the late 4th century for the third episode, the main one describing the Persian war and Julian’s death (Drijvers 2011b, 161 dates the third episode to shortly after 430; Drijvers 2011b, 140 and 2011a, 291 dates the merging of the three episodes into a single text to the early 6th century). According to Fatti (2009b, 202 n. 20), the first romance is a “compilazione realizzata a Edessa nella prima metà del V sec.”; according to Contini (2003, 119, 135 and 137), the first romance was written in Edessa in the 5th century, while the second one (whose place of origin cannot be established) – an episode steeped in a magical-satanic atmosphere and influenced by Greek sources such as Gregory of Nazianzus and Julian himself – was written a few decades after the first, in the 6th century. According to Papoutsakis (2007, 38–40), the first romance is a unitary Syriac text from the early 6th century. The hypothesis of Nöldeke (1874, 281–283; years 502–532) is followed by Gottheil (1906, VII), Baumstark (1922, 183), Ortiz de Urbina (1965, 205), Orlandi (1968, 119), Richer (1978, 233), Stemberger (1987, 273 n. 426), Seeliger (1998, 146), and Wood (2010, 142), Athanassiadi (1976–1977, 112) more generally assigns it to the 6th century; Lucchesi-Palli 1982, 162 to the first half of the 6th. 2 6 See Ben-Horin (1961, 1–10). This work influenced later Syriac literature and also served as a source for Arabic historiography by both Christian and Muslim authors (Contini 2003, 138). Concerning the popularity of the first romance in the first century of the Islamic conquest, and particularly the numerous allusions to it found in Pseudo-Methodius’ Apocalypse (a text written in Syriac around 691–692) and the parallel the latter work draws between Julian and the Islamic caliphs, see Martinez (1987, 349), and esp. Reinink (1990, 39 and 42–43, 1992a, 149–187 and 1992b, 75–86, 1993, XXIV–XXV and XXXV–XXXVI, 2001, 234– 237), and Leadbetter (2006, 373–374). 27 Among the various sources, we also find the Apostate’s own writings (see Contini 2003, 137). In the so-called second Syriac Romance, Julian makes a pact with the devil to attain power through the help of a magician by the name of Magnus (and, as in Theodoret H.E. III.26.3, we read of a foetus being removed from

140  Even the dead against Julian its mother’s womb for necromantic purposes). This legend, which constitutes a polemical reversal of the propaganda found in Julian’s own works (parallels in Asmus 1914, 701–704), is widely echoed in the Byzantine tradition: a similar pact between Constantine V and the devil lies at the origin of iconoclasm, according to later legends (Speck 1990, 11). In addition to the Apostate’s own works, it is perhaps also possible to detect the influence of texts of pagan propaganda. For example, after achieving a major victory over the Persians with the destruction of Ctesiphon, Julian delivers a bombastic speech in the first romance in which he criticises Constantine’s family in tones reminiscent of the myth in the final section of Contra Heracleum, while boasting about his victory over the Persians, who are twice referred to as “giants”: The family of Constantine was of no mean order; they were men who overcame five powers; but they were without faith in the gods. This day’s privilege was not granted to them […] There was not a power that made war with them which they did not overcome, with the sole exception of this kingdom of the giants. (Engl. transl. in Gollancz 1928, 186) “To-day, through the protection of the gods who have accompanied us in the famous places of the realm of the giants, our armies rejoice and delight in the loot taken in their land” (Gollancz 1928, 188). Epigram 148 in book XIV of the Anthologia Palatina, which is presented as an oracle that Julian received beneath the walls of Ctesiphon, celebrates Zeus’ victory over the giants and Julian’s victory over the Persians and the destruction of their cities (Buffière 1970, 99). Therefore, it is possible that this propaganda of Julian’s is echoed by the Syriac Romance. 8 See Muraviev (1999a, 361 and 1999b, 200; see Muraviev 2001a, 243 on the origi2 nal order of the text). According to Brock (1977, 286), the Syriac Romance also alludes to works of ecclesiastical history; conversely, according to Muraviev (2001a, 249), the romance influenced Sozomen and Theodoret. 29 Gollancz (1928, 45–65, 128–130 and 139–145). Moreover, the following passage describes – as Gregory of Nazianzus does – a secretive persecution: Many Christians died at the hands of the pagans in the cities without the order of the tyrant or the permission of the judges, who by their own power judged them harshly according to their will, owing to the indifference of the tyrant, who would not inflict capital punishment for their deaths upon the judges of the places. Who can exhaust the limits of the description of all that occurred in the time of the wicked one directed against the servants of God? Many of them were leisurely led to death by the hands of pagans; neither was the place they came from known, nor even their names written down, nor their triumphs recorded, as they were judged without the judges […] The reason given why their confession of faith was not written down, nor even entered in the archives, is because it was said there were not many martyrs in the time of Julian the wicked. (Gollancz 1928, 107) The romance’s immediately preceding section had instead described the Christian Maximus’s killing during Julian’s sojourn in Constantinople (Gollancz 1928, 104–106). 0 “Well has he com[pleted] his course in the world. He has taken victory in his 3 person; he has laboured well in the vineyard of his Lord - an upright worker, and he has reserved a reward for his labour until the day of repayment […] Now he reigned 24 years and acted in the footsteps of C[ons]tantinos his father” (Brock/Muraviev 2000, 29–30). Brock/Muraviev (2000, 31) interpret this praise

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of Constantius II as stemming from the fact that the author – much like Gregory of Nazianzus – wished to highlight the contrast between Julian and the Christian emperor who ruled before him; therefore, they would appear to rule out the presence of a Homoean tradition: “The whole story proves to be an embellishment of the arianising emperor Constantius by means of his close association with Constantine, his father and secondly by contrasting him with the impious Julian”. However, the presentation of the newly-crowned Julian as the emperor who was the first after Constantine to shatter “the peace of the Church” clearly reflects the influence of the Homoean tradition (just as it does in the Chronicon Paschale in PG 92, 740A): “Julian, the Wicked, took the government after him, the Church having had peace for fifty-two years” (Gollancz 1928, 7). Gollancz (1928, 153): “one of those 40 blessed ones who were martyred in the ice in the time of Maximian the wicked, whose name was Marcur”. Later on in the tale, “Mercurius, the blessed” again appears to Jovian in a dream (Gollancz 1928, 190–192). Gollancz (1928, 189). Gollancz (1928, 197): “The arrow of salvation in the camp of the Romans! The wicked shall be taken from its midst! Peace shall reign between the kingdoms!” Another example is Eusebius, the Bishop of Rome, who according to Contini (2003, 132) combines three different figures by the name of Eusebius: the Arian Bishop of Nicomedia, the Pope who died in 311, and the martyr from Gaza. According to Richer (1978, 233), Eusebius, the Bishop of Rome derives from Eusebius of Caesarea – although he does not specify whether he means the Palestinian or the Cappadocian city – whereas according to Fatti (2009a, 262 n. 90), this figure derives from the Eusebius who was elected Bishop of Caesarea in Cappadocia in 362. See Peeters (1921, 82–87), Binon (1937a, 8–10 and 15–16, 1937b, 11–22 and 85– 90). Peeters and Binon’s hypothesis is followed by Halkin (1958, 99), Ševčenko (1977b, 107), and Maraval (1999, 200 and 206). According to Teja/Acerbi (2009, 188), the legend originated in Cappadocia, a province known for its knightly saints, including George, and for its horse-breeding (Büttner-Wobst 1892, 578 had already described the legend of Mercurius as a “Stadtlegende Caesareas”). According to Baynes (1937, 22–29) the legend first emerged in Arian circles in Antioch with Artemius and Macarius as the protagonists. Their names would then have been censored (since they were Arian saints) in the description of the heavenly council that decrees the Apostate’s death in Sozomen VI.2.4. Caesarea’s local saint (who according to Baynes does not therefore derive from an erroneous interpretation of the Syriac Mar Qorios) would later have replaced Macarius by virtue of the assonance between the two names. Finally, the legend would have reached Armenia, undergoing a further transformation. Indeed, in Historia Armeniae IV.10 (traditionally attributed to Faustus of Byzantium and also known as Buzandaran Patmut’iwnk’), the military saints Sergius and Theodorus are responsible for the death of “Valens”, which – according to Baynes (1937, 24) – in Buzandaran Patmut’iwnk’ is “the title of the Roman emperor and not a personal name” and in this case he would therefore be Julian. Finally, in the 14th century, by mentioning Mercurius and Artemius as the Apostate’s killers in Historia ecclesiastica X.35, Nikephoros Kallistos would have reassigned to Artemius the role he had originally played in the Arian legend, whereas Mercurius’ fame would have prevented the same from happening to Macarius. Baynes’ theory about the legend’s Antiochene origin is followed by Athanassiadi (1976–1977, 112), Brennan (1990, 336) (who frames the development of the legend of St Mercurius within the more general context of the development of legends about military saints), Weber (2000, 480–481), and Marasco (2004–2005,

142  Even the dead against Julian 152). Orlandi, who focuses on Coptic texts about St Mercurius, instead believes that the legend originally featured two distinct elements (the description of a heavenly army despatched against Julian’s earthly one, and the emperor’s blasphemous utterance), as we read in a Latin version of the passion of Theodoret of Antioch. Here, in the aftermath of a memorable victory over the Persians, Julian is attacked by an angelic host and, before dying, utters his famous words: “Jesus, you have won […] you have had your fill, because you have won” (Orlandi 1968, 124; see Gribomont 1971, 483 concerning another Latin version of the passion of Theodoret of Antioch). The anonymity of Julian’s killer(s) would be another feature of the original legend (Orlandi 1968, 94). Later, Christians across many cities would have attributed the miraculous event to a saint particularly venerated by them (Orlandi 1968, 104–105; Libanius’ letter 1220 informs us that two cities, which a gloss identifies as Antioch and Caesarea, rejoiced at Julian’s death, and according to Orlandi 1968, 134–135 it is therefore plausible that legends about it immediately spread). The Antiochene chronicler Malalas would then have accepted and circulated the legend in the form in which it had been developed in Caesarea, rather than in the form in which it had originally emerged in Antioch. This Caesarean version would appear to have originated later than a version known to us through the Coptic History of the Church of Alexandria (in which Basil – not yet a bishop – and Julian confront each other in tones that are not as bitter as those we find in the later pseudo-Amphilochian legend). It would then have been reformulated in the Vita Basilii attributed to PseudoAmphilochius (Orlandi 1968, 99–114; sulla History of the Church of Alexandria, compiled around 477 – see Orlandi 1997, 97–98). In the Latin translation – edited by Orlandi (1968, 122) – the passage on Julian’s death from the History of the Church of Alexandria reads as follows: “Vidit noctu multitudinem militum qui contra eum veniebant ex aere: ecce hasta eum percussit in terga. Cognovit eos esse sanctos. Cepit ergo sanguinem suum, ad caelum eiecit manibus suis, dicens: Cape tibi, Iesu, orbem universum cepisti”. According to Boulhol (2004, 114–115) the original Greek text at the basis of the Coptic one published by Orlandi instead depends on Pseudo-Helladius (the text quoted by John of Damascus) and is posterior to Malalas. The latter would consciously have replaced Jovian with the figure of St Basil as the vision’s receiver to suggest “le renversement, la rupture définitive entre deux mondes”, since the Bishop of Caesarea – a champion of Orthodoxy and model of the perfect pastor – embodied the ultimate triumph of Christianity better than Jovian. However, if we accept Boulhol’s hypothesis, we must also posit that Malalas shifted the vision’s chronological setting: for the dream in which Jovian sees Mar Qorios in the first romance is set not at the very moment of the Apostate’s death, but before the beginning of military operations, which is to say several weeks before his miraculous death. According to Fatti (2009b, 90 n. 163), the Caesarean version of the legend of Mercurius and Julian dates back to at least the mid-5th century. Gribomont (1971, 487–490) also rejects Peeters and Binon’s hypothesis and believes that, among the various local legends regarding Julian’s death, the one from Caesarea, known from the pseudo-Amphilochian text, was partly used by Malalas and partly by the first Syriac Romance. 37 Girardi (1990, 181) too notes that Basil of Caesarea never mentions Mercurius. According to Métivier (2005, 315), the cult of Mercurius only emerged in the late 5th or early 6th century. The earliest source on Mercurius would appear to be Archdeacon Theodosius’ De situ Terrae Sanctae, composed after Anastasius’ rise to power: Caesarea Cappadociae, ibi est sanctus Mammes heremita et martyr, qui mulsit agrestia et fecit caseum, et sanctus Mercurius martyr (Geyer 1898, 144). In Constantinople there were eight churches honouring the 40 Martyrs, yet

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none in honour of St Mercurius (see Janin 1969, 482–486): this also suggests that the cult of St Mercurius emerged later than that of the 40 Martyrs (according to Orlandi 1968, 136, no mention of St Mercurius’ veneration is made before the late 5th century). According to Kazhdan/Patterson Ševčenko (1991, 1345), Nikephoros Gregoras is the first to discuss in the same work both St Mercurius’ martyrdom and the legend of Julian’s miraculous death at the saint’s hands. In actual fact, though, a connection between Mercurius and the Apostate’s death is to be found in Greek literature even before Nikephoros Gregoras (for example, in Christopher of Mitylene’s hymns: see Follieri 1980, 90; De Groote 2012, XVII–XXIII on Christopher of Mitylene). It is also attested in Coptic literature, as well as in a hagiographical Greek text which circulated in medieval Nubia. In another redaction (BHG 1004) of the Life of Macarius Romanus, mention is made of “Asia” as the place where Julian died, with no reference to St Mercurius (Vassiliev 1893, 137 presents the passages from both redactions in parallel columns). According to Vassiliev 1893, XXXVIII, the Greek Life can be dated to the 5th or 6th century (for Angelidi 2012, 170 is anterior to the year 1000; see Penskaya 2018, 141–155 on similar hagiographical texts). In this case, the Greek Life might be anterior to Malalas, but this does not mean that the redaction featuring Mercurius as Julian’s killer can confidently be assigned such an early dating. Rather, it would be necessary to establish the priority between the two redactions in order to understand which is the earlier one. The legend of Mercurius had its critics in the Byzantine age: Michael Glykas (cf. Chapter X) highlighted the anachronism of Basil’s role as Bishop of Caesarea during Julian’s reign. An erudite scholar with an eye for chronology may have eliminated the reference to Mercurius, although it is more plausible that the name of the saint as the person responsible for the Apostate’s death was inserted by a copyist familiar with the legend of St Mercurius. “Julien le Transgresseur, c’est-à-dire qui trangressa ses engagements, lui qui descendit en Perse et là sa vie fut tranchée par la colère du ciel, lui sur qui tomba justement la sentence de Dieu” (Devos 1967, 224–225). At the beginning of the life, the hagiographer had presented Julian in the following terms: “Satan […] établit sur le sceptre de la royauté des Romains Julien le transgresseur, qui apostasia” (Devos 1967, 203). Later in the text, mention is again made of Julian as “un cruel persécuteur des chrétiens” (Devos 1967, 220). Kotter (1975, 161). Flusin (2006, 61–69) dates this text by John of Damascus to shortly after 726; see p. 78 concerning his sources, including excerpts of hagiographical works. For an overview, see Fatti (2009a, 259 n. 58 and 2009b). Orlandi (1976, 55). This is suggested by Elm (2001, 75) and Fatti (2009a, 259), who in n. 58 observes: “l’informazione di Malalass (e della Cronaca Pasquale che da esso dipende) tanto più sembra affidabile proprio in quanto viene inserita, in modo palesemente maldestro, nel quadro del racconto della leggenda di S. Mercurius”. See Bidez/Cumont (1922, 220) (fr. 170) concerning an epigram which in the manuscript tradition is sometimes attributed to Julian, and at other times to Basil – possibly another indicator of the literary exchanges between the two. According to Nostitz-Rieneck (1907, 19), the pseudo-Amphilochian text reflects a subsequent level of the legend’s development compared to that witnessed by Malalas and the Chronicon Paschale. Therefore, according to his theory, it was written no earlier than the 7th century. According to Halliday (1916, 105), it dates from the 8th century and is the work of an erudite author who was acquainted with the writings of Sozomen and Gregory of Nazianzus; Bardy (1932, 1112) also dates it to the 8th century; Binon (1937b, 24) to the 8th–9th century; according to

144  Even the dead against Julian Orlandi (1968, 109–110), it is a 7th-century text that draws upon late 6th-century sources from Caesarea; according to Browning (1975, 227), the Vita Basilii was “probably composed in the sixth century”; according to Barringer (1980, 56), a date towards the end of the sixth or perhaps in the first part of the seventh century is accepted for the Vita in its present form and that the most likely provenance is the region bounded by Caesarea, Iconium and Antioch.

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(although he notes that this is a collection of texts that may have previously circulated independently or within smaller collections); according to Wortley (1980a, 221), around the year 800 an anonymous compiler “gathered the extant Basil legends into a conventional vita-form” (at p. 220 he hypothesises that the compiler was active in Greek-speaking milieus in Rome); according to Frend (1986, 69), the pseudo-Amphilochian legend of Mercurius and Basil dates from the 6th/7th century; according to Forlin Patrucco 1988, 69, we are dealing with a “testo greco di epoca difficile da stabilire”, “una traduzione latina anteriore alla metà del IX secolo”, and un “antico testo greco, forse degli inizi del V secolo, starebbe alla base degli episodi confluiti nella vita”; according to Brubaker (1999, 234) the legend of St Mercurius in “a fully developed form had appeared by ca. 800 in a Life of Basil attributed to Pseudo-Amphilochios” (see also Brubaker 2007, 79 n. 4); according to Harrel (2001, 134) the pseudo-Amphilochian Vita Basilii is a “documento greco dell’VIII secolo risalente al periodo dello sconvolgimento iconoclastico”; according to Muraviev (2001a, 240), the Greek text of the legend of St Basil and St Mercurius in the pseudo-Amphilochian Vita dates from around the year 800; according to Boulhol (2004, 114), the pseudo-Amphilochian text is “un recueil de diègèseis non antérieur au VIIIe siècle”; according to Conti (2005, 104), it was composed “tra VIII and IX sec.”; according to Efthymiadis/Déroche (2011, 40), an anonymous compiler “before the year 800 brought together legendary stories of varied provenance and content dating from late antiquity and attached to the saintly bishop of Caesarea (BHG 247–250)”. See Fitzgerald (1981, 556) on Pseudo-Amphilochius as a possible source of inspiration for figurative art – although he admits that “no recorded pictorial cycles for these exist”. Julian angrily reacts to Basil’s hospitality gift (three loaves of bread) by ordering its return with some animal fodder. In response, Basil ends the exchange by scoring yet another point against the Apostate: exploiting a Byzantine custom, he proves that through his gift the emperor is transferring to him the ownership of grazing lands (see Combefis 1644, 268, n. 80; Kazhdan/Ronchey 1997, 182). Hauschild (1990, 189 n. 211 and 191 n. 218) is the only modern scholar who does not completely rule out that this correspondence may be authentic. For example, in ep. 40, in a tone worthy of a new Alexander, Julian boasts that he has conquered the “trans-Danubian Sagudates”, with regard to which Hauschild (1990, 189 n. 212) writes: “Ein nicht genau identifizierbares, wohl slawisches Volk. Für das 8./9. Jahrhundert sind Sagudaten und Saraguren bezeugt”. Julian’s katephilosophesa sou, to which Basil responds with the equally drastic words ei ephilosophesas (Muraviev 2001a, 247) in the pseudo-Amphilochian Life, is clearly connected to the tradition about the exchange of quips between the Apostate (anegnon, egnon kai kategnon) and bishops (ei anagnous egnos, ouk an kategnos), first attested in Sozomen V.18.7, but also added to a codex (Marc. Gr. 61) at the end of an apocryphal letter (ep. 40) addressed to Basil by Julian (ha gar anegnon kategnon in Forlin Patrucco 1983, 198, 412 notes that in several manuscripts ep. 41 ends with ei gar egnos, ouk an kategnos and deems it possible that already in Sozomen’s day a tradition was circulating about a private controversy between Julian and Basil, a champion of the Christian faith as well as an unwavering exemplar of firmness in the face of political power). See Fatti (2009a,

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254) on this saying and its relationship with the tradition mentioned by Sozomen V.18.7–8. The saying is also present in another hagiographical text, the life of Dometius the Persian BHG 560 (Van den Gheyn 1900, 314). Forlin Patrucco (1983, 200). With regard to the similarities between Gregory’s oration and the spurious correspondence, Fatti (2009a, 255–258) further develops the hypothesis of Pouchet (1992, 174) according to whom the letters are “exercices scolaires, assez médiocres” possibly by Nikoboulos, Gregory of Nazianzus’ grandnephew (Fatti 2009a, 254 on Sozomen V.18.7, who would already appear to be familiar with the correspondence, as already noted by Binon 1937a, 95 n. 3). See Fatti (2009a, 263–268) on the situation at the beginning of Valens’ reign, when Gregory of Nazianzus presented himself and Basil as Julian’s enemies (in or. 5.39, the chapter which Fatti a p. 263 regards as the starting point of the legend of St Mercurius), in an effort to bestow some legitimacy on his friend within the Christian community of Caesarea, which was still shaken by the bitter dispute of 362 (see Fatti 2009a and 2009b, 259–263 on the role played in 362 by the Apostate, who probably sided with Basil against Eusebius, the newly-appointed Bishop of Caesarea). One element in support of the anteriority of the spurious correspondence might be the fact that certain codices transmit a variant of St Basil’s answer (ep. 41 – dapsileia khorton phylla syn artoi in Forlin Patrucco 1983, 200) clearly connected to Pseudo-Amphilochius’ text: artous ex hes epephereto dapsileias […] apodounai kai autoi khorton (Muraviev 2001a, 247). If Pseudo-Amphilochius’ text were older, we would have to suppose that the forger, while drawing inspiration from it, wrote a version of the letter not all that close to the text of BHG 250 and that another forger, also familiar with Vita Basilii BHG 250, then chose to correct it. But it seems more straightforward to hypothesise that the letter, in one of its subsequent redactions, inspired Pseudo-Amphilochius. According to Bessières (1922, 348), the letters attributed to Basil and Julian “se sont introduites tardivement dans la tradition […] et incorporées parmi la correspondance authentique. Le nom de l’empereur Julien ne permettait pas qu’on leur donnât une place chétive à la fin des mss”. See Peeters (1921, 65–88). According to Muraviev (2001a, 245), an influence is also detectable from the Syriac Romance and the “source of the superposition” of Julian onto Valens would be the narrative contained in it, and particularly the confrontation between Julian and the Bishop of Rome Eusebius. According to Muraviev (2001a, 249), the various sources used by Pseudo-Amphilochius include, in addition to the first versions of the so-called Syriac Romance (also known to Theodoret and Sozomen – the latter of whom would have provided the basis for Malalas’ account), a collection of anti-Arian tales pitting Basil against Valens – the Coptic tradition and the Historia Armeniae attributed to Faustus of Byzantium, known as Buzandaran Patmut’iwnk’, would derive from these tales – and the work quoted by John of Damascus in the Contra imaginum calumniatores and attributed to him by Helladius. According to Muraviev (2001a, 242), the apocryphal correspondence is later than Pseudo-Amphilochius’ text describing Julian’s sojourn in Caesarea. This episode would be preserved in its original form in a Coptic version included in the Acts of St Mercurius edited by Orlandi, in which a provocative question addressed to Basil by the Apostate, “wicked emperor” (“Where did you leave the carpenter’s son, when you came here?”), is followed by an equally provocative answer: “I left him to build a coffin in which to throw your body”. However, he would have “spared Basil, since he had been his school friend and they had learned to write in the same school, together” (English translation based on the Italian translation of the Coptic text

146  Even the dead against Julian in Orlandi 1976, 55). A previous reconstruction of the legend’s complex development is provided by Muraviev (1994, 140–153). An influence of the tradition on the relationship between Basil and Valens has already been suggested by Halliday (1916, 105) and Forlin Patrucco (1988, 70) (followed by Consolino 1989, 243–244), according to whom the greater popularity of the Julian version of the prodigy reflects the appeal of a negative myth: the Apostate was far more suitable than the (heretical) Christian Valens as Basil’s counterpart. By contrast, according to Uluhogian (2001, 185) – who follows Calzolari (1997, 43) – the episode of the miraculous vision of Valens’ death in the Historia Armeniae represents an intrusion into the Armenian tradition, since it was Basil who had a miraculous vision foretelling Julian’s death. Since according to Uluhogian (2001, 187) the Historia Armeniae must have been written before the 470s, the legend of Basil’s miraculous vision was already known by the mid-5th century at the latest. Instead, according to Garsoïan (1989, 279 n. 1), the presence of St. Sergiuss, whose cult was focused on Resapha in northern Syria, a region where the cult of Thekla was also widespread […], as well the syriacisms noted by Peeters […] all suggest a Syriac rather than an Anatolian source.

54 55 56

57

Teja/Acerbi (2009, 189–190) also stress the confusion between Valens (whose religious policy Basil opposed) and Julian, who in the legend is the Bishop of Caesarea’s enemy. According to Muraviev (2001a, 243–244), Eubulus’ conversion to Christianity (under Basil’s guidance) in Pseudo-Amphilochius’ text mirrors Julian’s conversion to paganism in the Syriac Romance. See Wortley (1979, 363). See Forlin Patrucco (1988, 73–76). See Muraviev (2001a) and Radermacher (1927, 176) (featuring a passage from what, according to Radermacher 1927, 155–158, is the earliest version of the legend of Theophilus). The legend of Theophilus apparently also presents a number of similarities with the legend of Julian attested by the so-called second Syriac Romance: for in the latter case as well, the protagonist makes a pact with the devil (although Theophilus’ pact is rendered void by the Virgin Mary’s miraculous intervention). Furthermore, Theophilus is led to his encounter with the devil by a “Jewish apostate” who advises him not to make the sign of the cross (Radermacher 1927, 166) – just as, according to a tradition attested for the first time in Gregory’s first invective, Julian was urged not to cross himself by the person who accompanied him to a magical ritual (or. 4.55–56). Orlandi (1975, 49–50). According to Gribomont (1971, 486), the pseudo-­ Amphilochian text may derive from the tradition used for the History of the Church of Alexandria, but might also be the latter’s source. Moreover, in the 10th century Bishop Severus drew upon the History of the Church of Alexandria and another source for his account of the legend of Mercurius as Julian’s killer in the Arabic History of the Patriarchs of Alexandria (Orlandi 1968, 73). On the cult of Mercurius in Egypt, see also Wessetzky (1957, 359–367), Orlandi (1976), Fedwick (1981, 481), and Orlandi (1997, 94). On Mercurius in Oriental Christian texts: Binon (1937b, 57–78). In the Coptic text based on the History of the Church of Alexandria, we read: God despatched his holy martyr St Mercury and he struck the wicked Julian in the middle of his skull with the spear in his hand. And in dying, Julian blasphemed God: filling a hand with his own blood, he threw it towards the sky, uttering his curse to God: You have conquered the whole universe, Jesus! (English translation from the Italian in Orlandi 1976, 57)

Even the dead against Julian  147 58 Bishops by the name of Mercurius are attested in the Thebaid and in Nubia in the 11th century (Fedalto 1988, 650, 657 and 667), but already around the year 700 we find a Nubian king called Mercurius (Frend 1968, 322, 1972, 225). 59 On the peculiarities of the Greek language employed in medieval Nubia: Frend (1972, 224–229), Hägg (1982, 103–107). 60 Egyptian traditions, such as Palladius’ version in Historia Lausiaca 4.4 and Ammon’s letter to Theophilus BHG 1397, may have influenced the redevelopment of the legend of St Mercurius known from the Nubian version (through the presence of Egyptian saints as protagonists, rather than Basil). Frend (1986, 69–70) notes similarities and differences with respect to the legend of St Mercurius in texts reflecting the Coptic Church’s tradition (including the History of the Church of Alexandria). Frend (1979a, 157) dates the Nubian manuscript transmitting the Greek fragment on St Mercurius to sometime around the 10th century on account of the iconographic parallels in the treatment of St Mercurius in Coptic and Egyptian art. According to Frend (1979a, 158), it is unsurprising that the vision was attributed to the Egyptians Pachomius and Athanasius (with the former reporting Mercurius’ words to the latter), given the more limited popularity of the Cappadocian saints in Nubia. 61 Frend (1986, 67–68). 62 See Frend (1986, 70). According to Frend (1982, 86), [i]t is interesting how the narrative cycles of Byzantine military saints were circulating in Nubia during the 10th and 11th centuries in much the same form as they were circulating within the Byzantine empire. They demonstrate how close were the cultural and religious ties between Byzantium and the Monophysite kingdoms of Nubia at this time, and the attraction exercised by the distant emperor on the Christian rulers in the Nile valley beyond the frontier of Moslem Egypt. 63 See Frend (1979a, 162): “The military saints epitomised the military virtues and these were particularly apt in Nubia, cut off from the rest of the Christian world and often threatened with attack from its northern Islamic neighbour”. 64 Significantly, the Greek fragment on St Mercurius belonged to a library that was purposefully destroyed by the Egyptian invaders during a war (Frend/Muirhead 1976, 44). Frend (1979b, 358) mentions as forthcoming another text on Julian that was found among the manuscripts in the Nubian cathedral of Qasr Ibrim (“a combat between St Mercurius and a priest of Apollo during the reign of Julian the Apostate a thousand years before”), but this text appears not to have been published yet. 65 On the hagiographical tradition about this saint: AASS Nov. IV, 11–27; Beck (1959, 405, 699–700, 720, 725 and 798), D’Aiuto (1994, 34–45), Walter (1999, 163– 210), Haldon (2016, 1–57). According to Leemans (2007, 15–33) (esp. 24–31), the panegyric for St Theodore the Tyro BHG 1760 by Gregory of Nyssa (delivered on 17 February 379 or 380) contains various polemical allusions to Julian. 66 On this feast, see Petit (1898–1899, 321–327). 67 In his homily for saints Juventinus and Meximinus BHG 975, John Chrysostom reports their lamentation about the utter pollution of the air, which may be regarded as one of the starting points for the later tradition, although no explicit reference to food is made (see also other works by John Chrysostom, such as De s. hieromartyre Babyla 5 in Schatkin 1990, 302). 68 Parmentier (1998, 192–193). While writing at a time in which the kollyba legend was already widespread, in Chapter 14 of the Passio martyrum XV Tiberiopoli BHG 1199 Theophylact of Ohrid de facto follows Theodoret’s version. An allusion to this denunciation of acts of contamination may be an ironic remark made

148  Even the dead against Julian

69

70 71 72 73

74

75 76

by another Syrian author, Theodore of Mopsuestia. In his refutation of Contra Galilaeos, he argues that if Abraham used to offer blood sacrifices, as Julian suggests, then the same can be said of all the butchers who chop meat up at the market (fr. 2.3 in Guida 2019, 92). According to Baynes (1937, 24–25), the legend was already circulating in the 5th century. The Sermo de festo s. Theodori (CPG 4300 = BHG 1768), which mentions the miracle, is traditionally attributed to Nectarios, who died in 397, but the miracle is not mentioned in the Laudatio (BHG 1765c) by Chrysippus of Jerusalem, who died in 479. Therefore, the attribution of BHG 1768 to Nectarios is rejected by: Delehaye (1925, 21), Ehrhard (1938, 608), Halkin (1962, 312), D’Aiuto (1994, 43–44), and Tomadakis (2003, 125 n. 3) (Ehrhard 1939, 307 too regards BHG 1768 as posterior to Chrysippus and hence as much later than John Chrysostom). By contrast, Romanelli (1952, 1787) and Schmidt (2006, 627) attribute the text to Nectarios, although its author (in Chapter 5) presents himself as though he were an orator addressing Julian’s contemporaries or their sons (PG 39, 1825). Text BHG 1765c has been published in Sigalas (1921) (on Chyrsippus’ life and writings, see Sigalas 1921, 3–16). Not even Andrew of Crete’s canon in honour of the saint, published in Tomadakis (2003, 144–167), makes any reference to the kollyba miracle, which would suggest that the legend did not emerge before the 8th century. For example, we might compare a passage from Chapter 5 (PG 39, 1825) of Sermo de festo s. Theodori (CPG 4300 = BHG 1768) with one from Gregory of Nazianzus’ funerary oration for his brother Caesarius (or. 7.11). The same attempt to harmonise different traditions is made by other hagiographers. For example, in the 14th century, Philoteus of Constantinople copied several passages from passion BHG 1768 into his Homilia de colybis. PG 39, 1828. Halkin (1962, 322). On this work, see Zuckerman (1988, 200) and Haldon (2016, 34–35). According to Halkin (1962, 312), followed by D’Aiuto (1994, 45), in writing his passion Nikephoros drew inspiration from BHG 1768, attributed to the Patriarch of Constantinople, Nectarios, or a similar one, whereas according to Haldon (2016, 40) he drew upon BHG (1765 and 1762–1762d). We also cannot rule out Symeon the Metaphrast’s influence, since Nikephoros describes Julian’s bloodless methods of persecution as despicable, just like the Metaphrastean passion of Manuel, Sabel, and Ishmael BHG 1024 (Latyšev 1914, 29). However, according to Halkin (1962, 312 n. 3), Ouranos wrote life BHG 1762m before the publication of the Metaphrastean menologion, “qui en contenait une rédaction plus élégante”. Both the Metaphrast and Ouranos may also reflect Gregory of Nazianzus’ influence – for example, that of a passage from the first invective (or. 4.82 in Bernardi 1983, 208). On Nikephoros Ouranos, see McGeer (1991, 129–131). According Ehrhard (1938, 608), Lackner (1984, 230), and Høgel (2002, 200), the Metaphrast depends on BHG 1768 in his account of the kollyba miracle; according to D’Aiuto (1994, 43–44), by contrast, the Metaphrast’s source may be a text, now lost, similar to BHG 1768; according to Haldon (2016, 40), the source is BHG 1762–1762d; on the Metaphrastean text, see Haldon (2016, 31–32). Mossay (1980, 178). This passage (also used in the Metaphrastean passion of Manuel, Sabel, and Ishmael, see Chapter V) served as the basis for the Metaphrast’s on Julian’s persecution (AASS Nov. IV, 44). The Metaphrast (in AASS Nov. IV, 44) alludes to a passage from Gregory’s first invective (or. 4.79 in Bernardi 1983, 200). The Metaphrast may also be alluding to other passages by Gregory, namely or. 4.61 and or. 4.82 (in Bernardi 1983, 168 and 208), the first of which is used by John Mauropous in one of the texts

Even the dead against Julian  149

77

78 79

80 81

82

he wrote in honour of St Theodore the Tyro (BHG 1770), along with the other passage by Gregory just quoted (or. 4.79 – Karpozilos 1982, 167 on Mauropous as an admirer of Gregory of Nazianzus who actually draws more on Socrates, in accordance with an interpretation already put forward by Michael Psellos) and a third passage from the same invective (or. 4.20 in Bernardi 1983, 114). Moreover, Mauropous is probably also alluding to the previous passage by the Metaphrast (De Lagarde 1882, 128; likewise, according to D’Aiuto 1994, 54, Mauropous follows the Metaphrast “per le linee generali and According to alcune espressioni”, whereas “molti altri particolari appaiono legati a tradizioni orali o alle vite romanzesche del santo”) and to a passage from Gregory’s first invective (or. 4.20 in Bernardi 1983, 114). De Lagarde (1882, 128). This verdict on the emperor’s versatility is shared, in the same era (the 11th century), by the Imperial Menologion’s compilers in the entries on Manuel, Sabel, and Ishmael and on Theodore Tyron (Latyšev 1911, 91 and 1912, 71). Latyšev (1911, 91). In the encomium for Theodore the Tyro BHG 1765n (AASS Nov. IV, 73). See Nicol (1965, 249–256) on Akropolites, who was active during the reign of Andronikos II Palaiologos and nicknamed “the new Metaphrast” on account of his rewriting of hagiographical texts. On his rich library, see Constantinides (1982, 141 and 163–166). AASS Nov. IV, 82. See Hinterberger (2011, 131–132) on Italoi and Latinoi in Byzantine hagiographical works. For example, the first of a series of negative epithets (ton drakonta ton skolion ton megan) appears to be an allusion to Gregory of Nazianzus (or. 4.1 in Bernardi 1983, 86: ton drakonta; or. 7.11, in which Julian is compared to ton skolion ophin in Calvet-Sebasti 1995, 208). For an overview of the theological debates between Catholics and Orthodox, see Kolbaba (2017, 479–493). On the issue of the use of unleavened bread for the Eucharist, see Kolbaba (2000, 37–39) and Avvakumov (2002, 29–159). Kolbaba (2001, 129–130) notes that not all Greeks were against the use of unleavened bread, which explains the polemic’s violent tones. According to Kolbaba (2006, 199), the Byzantine polemicists were not addressing the Latins, but rather “compatriots who believed in the orthodoxy of the Latins” (as in the Carmen de colybis). “In terms of number of words written, or number of treatises written, azymes far outstrip the procession of the Holy Spirit” (Kolbaba 2001, 121; see also the list of Orthodox texts in Avvakumov 2002, 91–103), and in the period of the Latin Empire “azymes remained important”, even though “the dominant issue was now papal primacy” (Kolbaba 2001, 128). Golubovich (1919, 428–465) published a report on the talks between Catholics and Orthodox held in 1234 (on pp. 453–454 the discussion of 28 April on unleavened bread: see Avvakumov 2002, 263–280 on these talks). For this reason, Wernsdorf (1768, 11 and 13), followed by Delehaye in AASS Nov. IV, 22, dates the Carmen de colybis to around the year 1234, but the issue was also bitterly debated on other occasions. For example, Dondaine (1951, 376–378) discusses the fragment of a letter that the Orthodox Patriarch of Constantinople Germanus II (1222–1240) – resident in Nicaea at the time – addressed to a Greek noblewoman, attacking the Latin doctrine of the use of unleavened bread for the Eucharist, which he regarded as worse than the use of unleavened bread made by the Jews (Dondaine 1951, 430). In Theodorus II Lascaris’ encomium for his father John Doukas Vatatzes, mention is made of the question of unleavened bread as one of the widely-debated ones (Tartaglia 1990, 58). Between 1276 and 1280, Meletius wrote a poem which ranks the use of unleavened bread second among the Latins’ numerous errors

150  Even the dead against Julian (Kolbaba 1997, 144; commentary on pp. 151–152; see also Blanchet 2012, 11–38). According to Efthymiadis (2011c, 131–133 and 2014, 171), the Carmen de colybis BHG 1769 is referring to Michael VIII. In the previous century, the author of BHG 2237, a life of St Luke (the Orthodox bishop of Isola Capo Rizzuto in Calabria, who died in 1144), claims that after a dispute over the use of unleavened bread between the bishop and the Latins, the latter attempted to burn him alive (Schirò 1954b, 106; see Lucà 1993, 15–17 and Schabel 2011, 93–94).

VII “Constantine, the son of a prostitute, recognized the true God and you abandon him?” Telescoping Julian and Constantine VII.1  The legend of Cyriacus The legend of the discovery of the Golgotha Cross, one of the most popular in the medieval West, first emerged in several versions in Late Antiquity: in the first, known as the legend of Helen, the protagonists are Constantine’s mother Helen and Bishop Macarius and Jerusalem; in the second, known as the Protonike legend, the fictional queen goes by this name; in the third, we have Helen and a fictional Jew, Judas Cyriacus. The last version, probably dating from the first half of the 5th century,1 was originally written in Greek2 in Syria3 or Jerusalem (the latter being the most widely-accepted hypothesis in recent studies).4 It enjoyed remarkable popularity in Western Europe5 and was translated into Coptic, Syriac, Armenian, and Geʽez, even reaching Central and East Asia in Sogdian (an Iranic language) and Chinese versions.6 The legend of Cyriacus is divided into two parts. In the first (Inventio ­crucis), after helping Helen discover the True Cross, the protagonist is ordained bishop by Pope Eusebius,7 but is then threatened by the devil with the following words: “I will raise up a new sovereign, who will abandon the crucifix, do my will, and harshly punish you. Then, having been punished, you will renounce the crucifix”.8 In the second part (the passion of Cyriacus), the Apostate, upon reaching Jerusalem, orders the saint to be tortured and then executed. This constitutes a sort of cosmic drama, which after the discovery of the True Cross under Constantine, brings the history of ­Redemption to a conclusion through the victory of Christianity, despite the fierce opposition of the devil, who places his last, vain hope in Julian.9 The emperor thus links the two main events in Judas Cyriacus’ life: his conversion and his martyrdom.10 The saint dashes the devil’s hopes by withstanding all tortures inflicted upon him, and even accomplishing some miracles and the sudden conversion of a pagan.11 This text thus features many of the topoi of the fanciful epic passions. For example, Julian boasts of having tortured and killed numerous Christians: “Many of Christ’s followers perished among terrible torments”.12 However, we also find some peculiar aspects. The text stresses Cyriacus’ Jewish origins, so much so that he even prays in

DOI: 10.4324/9781003179818-7

152  Telescoping Julian and Constantine Hebrew.13 Furthermore, the emperor does not deny having once believed in Christ; he calls Christians Galilaeans and, in the earliest redaction of the passion, states that he does not wish to carry out a persecution.14 Particularly noteworthy is the contrast between the Apostate Julian, who seeks to prevent the triumph of the new religion even though – as he himself recalls – he was born a Christian, and the Jew Judas, who reverses Judas Iscariot’s action: after converting to Christianity with the speaking name of Cyriacus (“of the Lord”), he ensures its victory, thereby symbolising the hoped-for conversion of the Jews.15 Good and evil are portrayed at the highest level: after the discovery of the Cross, the emperor – as already noted – embodies the last hope for the devil, whose son he is called by Cyriacus and the latter’s mother.16 He thus plays an important, if negative, role in the history of Redemption. By contrast, Cyriacus is repeatedly assigned traits that make him reminiscent of Christ: his mother is called Anne, like that of the Virgin Mary, who is explicitly mentioned in the prologue; moreover, albeit in a very prudent manner, the saint himself seems to associate his own figure with that of the Son of God by quoting the Psalms (90.13).17 Possibly in order to stress this contrast between the saint and Julian,18 the author does not mention that between Constantine and his nephew, the last pagan emperor,19 as occurs in other texts reworking hagiographical material: for example, in the so-called Syriac Romance on Julian, a fanciful late-­antique text about the Apostate’s life and death.20 This work presents certain similarities with the legend of Cyriacus: in the Syriac Romance, the almost 100-year-old Pope Eusebius21 in Rome plays the same role as Cyriacus does in Jerusalem, as the elderly bishop who opposes the Apostate and is sentenced to death, although Eusebius is ultimately spared, whereas Cyriacus dies after horrific tortures.22 Both are contemporaries of the first Christian emperor, but only the Syriac Romance presents the latter as antithetical to Julian, who violently attacks him.23 This explicit contrast between the two emperors is also found in the passions of other saints (such as Eusignius and Artemius) which enjoyed considerable popularity in the Byzantine Early Middle Ages, and which – as we shall see – borrow material from the legend of Constantine. The legend of Cyriacus did not enjoy the same degree of popularity in Byzantine Christendom and was harshly criticised, sometimes on the basis of interesting arguments. For example, in a text from the years 518–534 the monophysite Severus of Antioch begins his refutation with the words: Anathema to those who have fabricated this thesis blasphemous against the truth! All authors of ecclesiastical history report that Macarius was Bishop of Jerusalem when Queen Helen searched for and found the Cross, because Macarius was also among the 300 gathered in Nicea. As for this Judas who has been invented and called Cyriacus, no one knows him; he was not a bishop in the ecclesiastical diptychs of that time […] there are no arguments in support of this man’s existence.

Telescoping Julian and Constantine  153 Severus also disputes the existence of a Bishop of Rome named Eusebius, reported to have ordained Cyriacus bishop, since the pope at the time was Sylvester, who was succeeded by Julius. Moreover, Severus notes that the canons would not have allowed Cyriacus’ episcopal ordination.24 In addition to Severus, Alexander the Monk wrote – probably in Justinian’s reign25 – a logos historikos, partly as a polemical attack on the legend of Cyriacus.26 Alexander rejects any narrative about the finding of the Cross that mentions a Bishop of Jerusalem other than Macarius.27 This polemic would appear to have left its mark in Byzantine cultural milieus:28 in the whole vast corpus of Byzantine hymnography, the only canon in honour of Cyriacus seems to be a Greek-Italian codex,29 which confirms the different reception of the saint in Western Europe. However, some hagiographical Greek texts bear witness to the circulation of the legend of Cyriacus in the Byzantine world, albeit to a limited extent, as is the case with one life of Constantine (BHG 365n, known as the Halkin Vita or Patmos Vita).30 The legend of the Inventio crucis and martyrdom of Cyriacus is succinctly summed up at the end of the Narratio de cruce (BHG 412).31 Furthermore, a fanciful Greek passion (BHG 219)32 is connected to the tradition about Cyriacus.33 The protagonist is St Barbarus,34 who distinguishes himself in the war against the Franks through his Christian faith, but then – like many other Christian saints – falls victim to a persecution edict issued by Julian before his journey “to the land of the Franks”.35 Barbarus claims to have been baptised by Cyriacus, which is to say Judas Cyriacus, the Bishop of Jerusalem from the third version of the legend of the True Cross: Julian promptly replies that he has punished Cyriacus.36 The author of the passion thus assumes that his readers are familiar with the passion of Cyriacus, a saint who is presented as the baptiser of Barbarus for the purpose of ennobling the latter. Other similarities with the legend of Cyriacus are to be found in the presence of snake-charmers37 and the definition of the emperor as the “devil’s son and enemy of all justice”.38 The author does not mention the emperor’s apostasy, although he may have been either directly or indirectly familiar with Gregory of Nazianzus’ invectives.39 Besides, the figure of Julian does not differ here in any significant way from that of other persecutors. Likewise, as in many epic passions, the tale ends with the saint’s beheading after various miracles.40

VII.2  Julian against Constantine and Artemius Artemius was a very popular saint in the Byzantine Early Middle Ages on account of his fame as a healer.41 Three passions of this saint are known: an ancient passion (BHG 169), the so-called Artemii passio (BHG 170–171–171a–171b–171c–171m, henceforth BHG 170–171 or Artemii passio), and finally the Metaphrastean passion (BHG 172). Passion BHG 169 does not significantly differ from epic passions in terms of the presence of tortures, debates, and miracles: Julian is presented as a

154  Telescoping Julian and Constantine persecutor who orders the saint to be tortured and executed after his intervention in favour of the Christians Eugenius and Macarius.42 The Artemii passio is very different. This text was widely read, as is witnessed by the numerous codices transmitting it43 and by the interest shown by Symeon the Metaphrast, who in the 10th century transcribed it into his menologion, with few changes. This work is one of the main sources used to reconstruct the Ecclesiastical History written by the heretic Philostorgius, and it is particularly interesting on account of the extensive culture displayed by its author, who would appear to have been familiar with Euripides, various texts of apologetic literature, several Christian authors,44 and possibly Julian’s own writings. The Artemii passio, which is unreliable in its presentation of its protagonist as a martyr and a prominent champion of Orthodoxy, preserves many of the features typical of epic passions (e.g. descriptions of tortures, insults hurled at the emperor, prayers by tortured saints) present in passion BHG 169,45 whose subdivision into two parts it follows: the first part ends with the sentencing of Eugenius and Macarius,46 the second with Artemius’ martyrdom. In both parts we also find passages derived – presumably indirectly47 – from late-antique authors such as Philostorgius, which do not mention any violent persecution, but describe Julian’s anti-Christian measures in detail.48 This passion’s fluctuation between the kind of representation typical of epic passions and the attempt to set the narrative against a historical background is also evident in its treatment of the figure of Julian: on the one hand, he is presented as a torturer and executioner of saints who hardly differs from other, more violent persecutors; on the other, as an emperor who displays some unique features. For example, Julian flaunts his vast literary culture – which extends to Hebrew as well as Greek and Roman texts – and his interest in the traditions of his homeland, in contrast to the ignorance, impiety, and apostasy of Constantine and the “Galilaeans” (Chapter 34).49 This claim significantly occurs at the end of the work’s first part, whose main themes are taken up in the second part, where Artemius is cast in the role of the Apostate’s opponent. These themes include a harsh criticism of Constantine, the Apostate’s flaunting of his extensive culture, references to his native tradition, the contemptuous use of the term “Galilaeans” to describe his opponents (accused of being senseless revolutionaries), and his attempt to earn the Jews’ support.50 But there is more to Julian’s uniqueness in the Artemii passio: other passages enable us to further define the author and his position in relation to the topics at the centre of debate in his day. In his writings Julian accuses Constantine and Constantius II of various crimes and misdeeds, and this polemic is reflected in the Artemii passio’s narrative.51 In Chapter 41 the emperor himself calls Constantine the son of “a worthless woman like any other courtesan”52 and accuses him of having murdered his half-brothers (including Julius Constantius, the Apostate’s father: “Constantine […] unlawfully killed my father and his two brothers”).53 Moreover, Julian denounces Constantius II as his brother Gallus’ murderer,

Telescoping Julian and Constantine  155 and claims to have abandoned Christianity after having been saved by the gods, since Constantius II was plotting his death as well.54 The hagiographer seems to be alluding to the letter Ad Athenienses 4 (271d) or to the myth which Julian recounts in Contra Heracleum 22 (233c),55 where Helios urges him to seize power in order to steer the empire in a different direction from that given to it by Constantius II. Here Julian states that the gods are his benefactors, friends, and saviours.56 Contra Heracleum would also appear to be used in other passages of the Artemii passio, most notably Chapter 43. Here the Apostate, like the historical Julian,57 attacks Constantine as an ignorant (amathes), senseless man who was ready to be deceived and thus became an innovator in religious matters.58 The Constantine of the myth recounted by Julian in Contra Heracleum 22 (227d) is also accused of ignorance (amathia)59 and in the same chapter of the Passio (43), the hagiographer describes the end of his dynasty in tones reminiscent of those used in a passage from Contra Heracleum 22.60 There is no certain evidence of the hagiographer’s familiarity with Julian’s work, and it seems more likely that he was acquainted with it indirectly, through collections of polemical literature and other texts,61 including Philostorgius’.62 Be that as it may, like other aspects, the animus of the Artemii passio’s Julian is quite plausible given the nature of his attacks on the first Christian emperor, even if we assume that it is essentially fictional.63 Another historical feature of this passion’s Julian is his recurrent reference to the Greeks’ ancestral religion, whose champion he professes to be in Chapters 34, 41, and 43.64 As in the case of the attacks on Constantine, we need not assume a direct acquaintance with Julian’s writings on the hagiographer’s part. Byzantine readers may have been familiar with this aspect of the emperor’s pagan propaganda from the works of Christian authors.65 In addition to these significant historical traits, the Artemi Passio’s Julian is noteworthy on account of his defence of the worship of divine images.66 The author clearly alludes to the arguments used by the enemies of iconoclasm and has been identified – by modern as well as medieval scholars – as St John of Damascus, the leading critic of iconoclasm.67 However, this attribution seems unconvincing: in the act of the Second Council of Nicaea, the iconoclasts are accused of calling icons idols;68 thus, given this kind of iconoclast propaganda, putting an iconodule argument into the mouth of the villain par excellence, in relation to pagan idols, would hardly have been a winning strategy. Moreover, in passages from works unquestionably written by John of Damascus, Julian, while still cast as a negative figure, is not presented in the same terms as in the Artemii passio. For instance, in De Imaginibus (I 60; II, 56; III, 53) as an example of the value of the veneration of images, the Syrian saint recalls that Mercurius killed Julian after Basil prayed to an icon of the Virgin Mary.69 By contrast, the author of the Artemii passio, while presenting various hypotheses about Julian’s death,70 never mentions Mercurius.71 The author of the Artemii passio also seems to distinguish himself from John of Damascus in the choice of epithet he reserves

156  Telescoping Julian and Constantine for Julian: in addition to the various insults he puts into Artemius’ mouth, he chiefly calls Julian a “transgressor” (parabates),72 and only uses apostates in Chapters 2 and 31.73 In the passage of De Imaginibus mentioning the legend of St Mercurius (I 60; II 56; III.53), John instead describes Julian as an atheist and apostate tyrant.74 In the same work, in a quote attributed to St John Chrysostom (III 121), John calls Julian “the new Nebuchadnezzar”,75 an epithet nowhere to be found in the Artemii passio. This use of completely different epithets therefore corroborates the hypothesis that the author of the Artemii passio is someone other than John of Damascus.76 On the other hand, this work is unlikely to have been written by a staunch iconoclast, since in Chapter 57 it mentions the destruction of the statue of Christ in Paneas as one of the nefarious acts committed by pagans in the short period of Julian’s reaction. The Christ statue in Paneas was invoked as one of the arguments used to prove that the veneration of images dated from ancient times.77 Furthermore, two passages in Artemius’ response to Julian’s iconodulism would seem to confirm the idea of a link between icons and God (in Artemii passio 44, and 45).78 Therefore, unless we wish to resort to the unprovable hypothesis that the Passio is an iconoclastic work that was later rewritten from an iconodule perspective,79 it seems more likely that we are to attribute this text to an author who did not side with the iconoclasts.80 Be that as it may, its primary aim is to exalt the figure of Artemius, so much so that it does not really attack the Arian Constantius II, since the saint was at the service of this emperor. It cannot be ruled out that the author of the Artemii passio redeveloped certain terms commonly employed in the debate on icons, without wishing to side with either faction. His main concern was to celebrate the saint, who was an object of veneration in Constantinople. Presumably, therefore, the author of the Artemii passio was a Constantinopolitan devotee of the saint, possibly close to Photius, another author whose writings allow us to reconstruct Philostorgius’ text.81 In a work that stands out for its length and either direct or indirect use of various sources, the hagiograher gathered everything he deemed useful to exalt the figure of this saint. Along with the topoi of epic passions, in Artemius’ speeches we thus find a wide range of cultural references. One consequence of this is that the saint’s antagonist, while preserving a cruel persecutor’s standard features, is presented in far more complex terms than in many other passions. Through his familiarity with Philostorgius’ writings and anti-pagan polemical literature, and possibly with some of the Apostate’s texts, the hagiographer succeeded in portraying Julian in a way that is partly reliable from a historical perspective. The Apostate defends his choice to return to the old religion, attacks the first Christian emperor on account of his conversion, and calls the early Christians “Galilaeans”. At the same time, the author alludes to disputes from the age of iconoclasm and to the medieval legend of Constantine, most notably by referring to Helen’s profession as a “courtesan”.

Telescoping Julian and Constantine  157

VII.3 Eusignius: Artemius’ double The protagonist of another fanciful passion,82 influenced by the medieval legend about Constantine,83 is a soldier of Constantius Chlorus’ by the name of Eusignius, who was martyred when he was over a hundred years old upon Julian’s orders. All redactions of this passion84 are earlier than the Metaphrast, who did not include them in his menologion because of their lurid content:85 for the saint recounts that Constantine was born of a prostitute. The passion opens with Julian denouncing the saint as a Christian in Antioch before setting out for Caesarea in Cappadocia, the place where his soldiers are assembling in view of the imminent war against Persia. The emperor brings the saint along with him.86 Urged to abjure his faith, Eusignius draws a contrast between Constantine, a prostitute’s son who converted to Christianity, and Julian, who was born a Christian but chose apostasy: “Constantine, the son of a prostitute, recognized the true God and you abandon him?”87 In a reversal of roles compared to the Artemii passio, the outraged Apostate seeks to defend Constantine’s honour: “Are you calling the emperor Constantine the son of a prostitute (pornogennetos)?”88 This rare term seems to parody porphyrogennetos, the title reserved for emperors’ sons born in a special room within the imperial palace in Constantinople – it is attested for instance by two Byzantine chronicles (Malalas and the Paschal chronicle) and Liutprand of Cremona.89 Julian’s reaction in defence of his predecessor’s honour is actually an attempt to defend imperial majesty rather than the figure of Constantine;90 most importantly, it justifies a lengthy digression, which takes up about half of the passion. Eusignius describes the origins and life of the first Christian emperor in detail,91 according to a fanciful version that draws upon medieval legends about Constantine. At the end of this digression, Julian orders the saint to be beheaded and finally dies in the Persian war. At the beginning and end of the passion Julian is therefore cast as a stereotypical ‘villain’, but the lengthy digression assigns the work a degree of originality and depth lacking in epic passions, although the work still preserves certain characteristics of this genre. The version of the legend of Constantine followed by the hagiographer is very similar to that underlying the so-called Halkin-vita BHG 365n, which explicitly features Eusignius not only as a martyr sub Iuliano, but also as the protagonist and testifier of a Persian war in which at some point Constantine is taken captive.92 It is difficult to establish with any certainty what relationship exists between the Halkin-vita and the passion of Eusignius, i.e. whether one text depends on the other, or whether both depend on a text that is now lost. What is certain is that the passion of Eusignius dates from before the mid-10th century.93 Therefore, it does not seem to be very chronologically distant from the Artemii passio: the two works share various aspects and both enjoyed broad circulation. The most striking similarities concern essential details in the two saints’ lives: they defend Constantine

158  Telescoping Julian and Constantine against Julian, after having served the former emperor as soldiers and having witnessed his vision of a cross in the sky.94 It thus seems likely that one of the two hagiographical texts inspired the other and that, as far as the contrast between the two emperors goes, the author of the passion of Eusignius was writing after that of the Artemii passio and was eager to further develop some elements outlined in this work.95 In the Artemii passio, Julian describes Constantine as the illegitimate son that Constantius Chlorus had with a prostitute before becoming emperor, while Artemius defends the first Christian emperor. In the passion of Eusignius, the debate on Constantine’s origin instead features far more prominently: it is precisely the contrast between him and Julian (who was born a Christian and grew up in the imperial family, but then become an apostate) that introduces the lengthy digression about the first Christian emperor’s life, a prostitute’s son who converted to Christianity. In the Guidi-vita (and presumably in the fragmentary Opitz-vita, the beginning of which is lost), Constantius Chlorus has a child with Helen outside of wedlock, purely as a result of erotic desire,96 and later finds this son by chance.97 In the Guidi-vita and the Opitz-vita, Constantius Chlorus has three legitimate children98 by his wife.99 The passion of Eusignius and the Halkin-vita differ from the Guidi-­vita and Opitz-vita insofar as they provide the following version: Constantius Chlorus, a married man, has only one legitimate son, who is mad. Constantius thus asks the Senate for permission to adopt a handsome and intelligent youth, unaware that he has an illegitimate son.100 Thanks to a purple dress that Constantius Chlorus had given to Helen as a gift and to the hand of fate, he eventually recognises Constantine. Eusignius’ hagiographer would therefore specifically appear to have chosen (or invented, if he is the source of the Halkin-vita) a little-known version of the legend in which Constantius Chlorus looks for a handsome and intelligent son because his only legitimate son is mad. This choice or invention emerges all the more strikingly if we compare this text to the Artemii passio, in which Julian proclaims his legitimate descent from Constantius Chlorus and attacks Constantine because of his embrace of Christianity and lowly birth. Eusignius’ hagiographer thus seems to be responding to the arguments Julian makes in the Artemii passio, not so much by denying the first Christian emperor’s humble origins but rather by stressing that they make his conversion all the more praiseworthy, in accordance with the spirit of the Gospel, just as Julian’s Christian origins make his apostasy all the more loathsome, in accordance with a verdict that can be traced back to Gregory of Nazianzus (or. 4.52)101 and is attributed to 4th-century Christians by Sozomen in the Ecclesiastical History (V.2.7).102 According to Kazhdan, the passion of Eusignius is more similar to the Halkin-vita than it is to the Guidi-vita, since a process of “purification” of the tradition occurred in the Guidi and Opitz lives, where no mention is made of Constantius Chlorus’ mentally ill son.103 In other words, the legend of Constantine, originally circulated in oral form, would have been

Telescoping Julian and Constantine  159 increasingly brought into line with historical reality over the course of several rewritings.104 The passion of Eusignius would therefore record the version of the legend closest to the original, contrary to what one of the first scholars of the legend argued, namely that in the more recent versions the historical elements were progressively replaced by fanciful ones.105 In any case, the hagiographer employs a version of the legend that suits his desire to stress the opposition between Constantine and Julian to an even greater degree than the Artemii passio. Given that Julian is destined to die in the war he is preparing against Persia, there is another episode from the legend of Constantine that plays a crucial role in the narrative about Eusignius: the episode in which the emperor was captured and then saved – in circumstances worthy of an adventure story – just as he was about to be sacrificed to the pagan gods. In the Guidi-vita this puzzling episode106 occurs at the beginning, after the description of Constantius Chlorus’ death, but before that of the civil war in which Constantine – the ruler of the western half of the Empire – defeated first Maxentius and then Licinius. This episode, which is geographically impossible,107 is instead presented in the Halkin-vita after the end of the civil war and the founding of Constantinople, and before Helen’s pilgrimage to Jerusalem. The passion of Eusignius, in contrast, is the only one to set the episode after Helen’s discovery of the Cross and right at the end of the digression on Constantine’s life. This chronological setting is significant, particularly considering what happens after the digression. The soldiers show themselves ready to convert to Christianity, so Julian orders Eusignius’ beheading before leading the army against the Persians. Finally, a “heavenly blow” struck by “an angel of the Lord” kills the Apostate. Therefore, in this episode as well the contrast between Julian and Constantine is evident. After the latter’s release and the Roman victory over the Persians, his Christian soldiers proclaim: “Great is the Christians’ God, He who performs miracles!”108 The hagiographer would thus appear to have consciously moved this episode from Constantine’s legend at the end of his digression, because it stands out more when set in contrast to Julian’s failure. By employing the topoi of epic passions, exploiting material from Constantine’s legend, and probably drawing inspiration from the Artemii passio, Eusignius fully highlights the contrast between Julian and Constantine: on the one hand, the Apostate meets his ruin in Persia by putting his faith in the pagan gods, while scorning Eusignius’ wise words of advice; on the other hand, the illegitimate son of a pagan and a prostitute acknowledges the true God and hence – after various victorious wars, the founding of Constantinople, and the discovery of Christ’s Cross – once again receives God’s favour when his loyal Christian soldiers free him from his Persian captors. From this perspective, Julian is not just a conventional villain, as in many epic passions, and Constantine’s name is not simply a label applied to a novella-like narrative that could potentially be adapted to suit any other legendary character.109 The two emperors acquire meaning through

160  Telescoping Julian and Constantine the contrast explicitly drawn between the two, which – while in itself not uncommon in Byzantine literature110 – achieves an unprecedented level of complexity in this passion.111 The passion of Eusignius, therefore, is a very noteworthy text not only for the study of the Apostate’s posthumous reception, but also for the study of Constantine’s legend, since it recalls this emperor’s humble and disgraceful origins not in order to discredit him but, on the contrary, to praise him. In the short term this choice proved highly successful, but later a staunch reaction was to hamper the circulation of the passion of Eusignius.

VII.4  The return to order and normalising of Julian’s portrait At the beginning of the 9th century, the chronicler Theophanes carefully drew an idealised and spotless portrait of the first Christian emperor, presenting him as Constantius Chlorus’ legitimate firstborn son.112 By contrast, Theophanes collected the negative information about Julian found in earlier sources and further exaggerated it.113 Initially, this redaction did not enjoy much success. Theophanes’ chronicle was used for the Guidi-vita);114 one or more generations later, another author presumably wrote the Opitz-vita by drawing upon George the Monk’s chronicle and information derived – among other sources – from Philostorgius, whose work was also available to Photius around the mid-9th century.115 However, in both the Guidi-vita and the Opitz-vita, the detail about Constantine’s rather dishonourable birth was not omitted. In 10th-century liturgical books, the figure of Constantine is taken to foreshadow – at the cost of drastic historical distortions – many of the features of Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus,116 who boasted that he was a descendent of the first Christian emperor117 and almost identified with him. For example, the encomium of Constantine I featured in one recension of the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion written in the years 957–959 completely overturns the legend of his base birth by presenting him as a Porphyrogenitus who legitimately inherited the imperial throne from his father as a birthright (without having to defeat any aspiring emperors) and then peacefully transmitted it to his son.118 This narrative is more suited to Constantine VII than it is to the first Christian emperor, who won numerous civil wars and whose death was followed by a palace massacre involving his relatives.119 Significantly, in Porphyrogenitus’ age, Liutprand of Cremona never mentions the medieval legend of Constantine I, even though he attests to the circulation of works and traditions that Constantine VII found unwelcome, such as those about the crimes committed by his ancestor Basil I.120 While familiar with the term “pornogennetos”, Liutprand applies it not to the founder of Constantinople, but to that of Rome: the reaction against the legend of Constantine would appear to have been effective under Porphyrogenitus, and would seem to have affected even the hagiographical traditions about Artemius and Eusignius.

Telescoping Julian and Constantine  161 When inserting the Artemii passio in his menologion, Symeon the Metaphrast chiefly transcribed it word for word. Some significant changes and omissions were introduced, however, particularly in relation to the Apostate’s death and the failure of his religious policy. Among other things, Symeon censors the explicit mention of divine interventions against the Apostate so as to avoid casting him as a great, if negative, figure, thereby following Gregory of Nazianzus’ approach. St Helen, who in Artemii passio 41 is described by Julian as a woman no different from a “courtesan”,121 is turned into a woman of “obscure lineage” in Chapter 25 of the Metaphrast’s work.122 Moreover, in Chapter 27, while copying many of the criticisms directed against Julian, the Metaphrast removes those levelled against the descendants of the first Christian emperor, whose vision of the Cross before the Battle of Milvian Bridge he instead celebrates, following the Artemii passio.123 In this case as well we find a parallel with Gregory of Nazianzus, who is reluctant to explain the reasons for the enmity between Constantius II and his cousin Gallus (or. 4.33) and even more reticent when it comes to the 337 palace massacre, since he is keen not to tarnish Constantius II’s image (or. 4.21). All in all, then, Symeon the Metaphrast preserves the criticism of Julian, who is presented as impious and bloodthirsty. However, he removes those aspects of the Artemii passio which most conflict both with the portrait of Julian offered by Gregory – whom Symeon also follows in his rewriting of the passion of Manuel, Sabel, and Ismael124 – and with the need not to damage the image of the first Christian emperor and, by extension, that of Constantine VII’s imperial family.125 The Metaphrast instead never redeveloped the passion of Eusignius, either because he never completed his work126 or on purpose: an annotation by a shocked reader confirms that, in the long run, the public’s reaction to the slanderous version of Constantine’s birth was decidedly negative.127 ­Liturgical books from the 10th and 11th centuries which include the passion of Eusignius omit the more lurid episodes: most notably, the passage in which the saint states that Constantine was the son of a prostitute is bowdlerised in all summaries in liturgical books known to us.128

Notes 1 Straubinger (1912, 75–76) (first half of the 5th century); Pigoulevsky (1927–1928, 318; late 4th or early 5th cent.); Leoni (1968, 140): first half of the 5th century (on p. 142 he regards Mesopotamia as the legend’s place of origin); Sanspeur (1974, 320; the Armenian translation would date from the first half of the 5th century); Linder (1975, 86 and 1976, 1036; first half of the 5th century); Wilken (1983, 188; early 5th century); Van Esbroeck (1984a, 126–134 and 1988, 216): the years 387–417 (like Klein 1988, 371 and Seeliger 1996, 1026); Van Esbroeck (1984b, 352; late 4th century, followed by Heid 1991, 99); Borgehammar (1991, 148), Drijvers (1997a), and Martin (2004, 94 n. 42) (415–450); Drijvers (1992, 153, 165, and 174, 400–450, 2001, 56): first decades of the 5th century; Drijvers (2002, 181), Feiertag (2000, 262–264: 415–500), Laurence (2002): early 5th century; Baert (2004, 45): after 415; Canella (2006a, 70): before 450 and after the

162  Telescoping Julian and Constantine legend of Helen, which emerged in the second half of the 4th century; Canella (2006b, 134 and 2013, 250): early 5th century; Van Nuffelen (2006, 265), Lanéry (2008, 199): around 400 (in n. 93 arguing that it was translated into Syriac before the mid-5th century). In Passion BHG 465b the Bishop of Rome who baptises Cyriacus is Eusebius, not Sylvester: the passion would therefore appear to have been written before the Actus Silvestri reached the East (whereas according to Malalas XIII.2, writing in the 6th century, the Bishop of Rome during Constantine’s years was Sylvester, see Martin 2004, 96). According to Kohlbacher (2002, 35), the legend is one of the Christian reactions to the pagan polemic against Constantine’s baptism, a polemic which began with Julian and was then further developed by Eunapius and Zosimus. Kohlbacher (2002, 36) therefore dates the emergence of the cycle of legends about Cyriacus to around the year 400. 2 According to Pigoulevsky (1927–1928, 308–314), the biblical quotations in the Latin, Greek, and Syriac versions of the passion prove the priority of the Greek version (in which the quotations are more faithful) over the other (pp. 319–325 on the priority of the Greek text also as regards the Inventio crucis); the Greek is also held to be the original one by Van Esbroeck (1979, 115), Borgehammar (1991, 149), Brock (1992, 55) (“probably”); Drijvers (1997a, 25), Feiertag (2000, 261–264), Martin (2004, 94), and Conterno (2013, 427). Straubinger (1912, 66– 75) suggested Syriac as the original language, followed by Coleman (1914, 118), Linder (1975, 86 n. 240), and Lanéry (2008, 194 and 199). Siegmund (1949, 220 n. 2) takes no stand on the matter. Peeters (1950, 178) mentions Straubinger’s hypothesis, yet believes that Greek may well have been the original language. See also Guidi (1904, 79 and 1906, 337). According to Grégoire (2008, 9–10 and 143), the original text may have been in Greek or Syriac. 3 See Feiertag (2000, 261–265) (Feiertag suggests that the legend of Judas Cyriacus may have emerged in Syria, which he regards as a more likely place of origin than Jerusalem, since no traces of anti-Jewish polemic are to be found in the versions that were circulating in Jerusalem in the 4th century); Drijvers (1992, 174); and Laurence (2002, 94). Leclerq (1914, 3133) suggested Edessa, followed by Lanéry (2008, 199), whereas Duchesne proposed an Edessene origin for the legend of Protonike, regarded as the most ancient (Lucius 1908, 681 too regarded it as the earliest): in his view, the later legend of Cyriacus emerged as an attempt to reconcile the most ancient legend with that of Helen, which had spread in the Greek and Latin world (Duchesne 1955, CVIII). 4 Van Esbroeck (1984a, 132–134), Borgehammar (1991, 148), Drijvers (1997a, 25, 2001, 56), Van Nuffelen (2006, 265), Canella (2006b, 135 n. 13). 5 On the legend of the True Cross in general: Borgehammar (1991, 9–184), Drijvers (1992, 131–180, 1997a, 18–29), Feiertag (2000, 242), Canella (2006a, 66–86), Aulisa (2009, 210–215). See Borgehammar (1991, 188–194) concerning the legend of Cyriacus in the West, Baert (2013, 683–697) concerning its artistic aspects, and Van Esbroeck (1984b, 353–354), Canella (2006, 80–85, 2007, 91–95, and 2013, 251–252) concerning the influence of the legend of Cyriacus in the development of the legend of Constantine and Sylvester in Rome. 6 Syriac text BHO 233 in Guidi (1904, 87–95) and Pigoulevsky (1927–1928, 332– 349) (see also Conterno 2013, 427–428 and 436 on the legend in Syriac traditions). Coptic translation BHO 234 in Guidi (1904, 311–332; see Buzi/Bausi 2013, 410–411) about the saint in Coptic traditions and Johnson (1980, 10*–11*) concerning a Coptic panegyric from the first decades of the 6th century in which we read: “If you had been tormented, like Judas, whom they call Kyriakos, would you really have embraced the idols?” (transl. in Johnson 1980, 46). Geʽez translation BHO 235 in Guidi (1906, 340–351); (see Witakowski 2001, 527–535 on the legend’s spread in Ethiopia and, with some significant changes, in Jewish milieus in Europe). On the Sogdian and Chinese versions: Borgehammar (1991,

Telescoping Julian and Constantine  163 194 n. 33). The Armenian Passio Cyrilli published in Akinian (1948, 145–155) is actually only an Armenian translation of the passion of Cyriacus (see Akinian 1948, 307; a 19th-century edition of an Armenian passion of Cyriacus is listed in the BHO as no. 236). See Garibian (2013, 442, 444, 446, and 453) concerning the legend of Cyriacus’ influence in Armenian culture. Fiey (2004, 63) mentions a Syriac martyrology that honours one Cyriacus who was killed by Julian in Persia. 7 In reality the only pope by the name of Eusebius was in office long before Helen’s journey to Jerusalem. 8 Nestle (1895, 330). The text published by Nestle occurs in cod. Sin. gr. 493, which also includes the passion of Cyriacus BHG 465b. This passage occurs with only a few variations in other Greek redactions of the Inventio crucis (Wotke 1891, 309; Olivieri 1898, 418–419; Lauriotes 1900, 495; Delatte 1927, 296). 9 The framework may also have been influenced by certain Gnostic circles, which may be the origin of the word autophyes used in relation to God (see MacCoull 1989, 294). On the “cosmic dimension” of the legend of Cyriacus, see Baert (2004, 51–52). 10 There are other points of contact: in both parts Judas Cyriacus preys in Hebrew, beginning with praising Dio, except that in the first text he prays to God, in the second one to Christ, since he has converted to Christianity; moreover, in the Inventio he does not withstand the tortures, because insofar as he defends Judaism against Helen, the mother of the first Christian emperor, he finds himself on the wrong side in the hagiographer’s eyes; by contrast, in the passion he withstands the tortures because he is a follower of the true God, whom he defends against the Apostate. On the relationship between the first and second part of the legend, (see Straubinger 1912, 75; Pigoulevsky 1927–1928, 307 and 318; Van Esbroeck 1979, 114, 1984a, 127; Borgehammar 1991, 150–151; Drijvers 1992, 180 and 1997a, 28–29). Significantly, the entries for the saint found in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion and in the menologion of Basil II (on the dates of the feast of St Cyriacus in synaxaria: Tomadakis 1971, 396) first mention the Inventio crucis, his baptism, and his consecration as Bishop of Jerusalem, and only subsequently describe his martyrdom sub Iuliano (Delehaye 1902, 170, 25–171 and PG 117, 132). On the Apostate’s epithet in the entry for Cyriacus in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion: Follieri (1972–1973, 351). According to Loenertz (1975, 428), the accounts of Constantine’s vision of the Cross, of his baptism by Eusebius the Bishop of Rome, and of the Inventio crucis are all connected; likewise, according to Kohlbacher (2002, 36), the description of Constantine’s vision of the Cross constituted the first part of a “Legenden-Kreis” about Cyriacus. 11 The passion of Cyriacus has been published in Papadopoulos-Kerameus (1907, 164–172; BHG 465) and Trovato (2018, 66–83) (BHG 465b). These redactions are similar, if not identical, in content (see Trovato 2018, 62–65). Unless otherwise stated, in the present chapter all quotes will be from redaction BHG 465b, preserved in cod. Sin. Gr. 493, the earliest of the three Greek codices recording this passion. 12 Trovato (2018, 85). 13 Cyriacus’ Hebrew words do not really have any precise meaning, as noted by Harris (1894, 48) with regard to the Inventio crucis: they are magical formulas “handed down orally for some considerable period, and recited without attention to their meaning, [which] soon became distorted and corrupt”; we can therefore detect the “influence of magical ideas in the main body of the legend”. 14 Trovato (2018, 70; see a similar passage in a Coptic translation, in Guidi 1904, 312). 15 See Borgehammar (1991, 172), Drijvers (1997a, 28–29); on anti-Semitism in the legend of Cyriacus see also Drijvers (1997b, 299) and Drijvers (2002, 181): “It is

164  Telescoping Julian and Constantine an ideological story about the defeat of Judaism”). The analysis of the legend is further developed – albeit only in relation to the first part (Inventio Crucis) – by Baert (2004, 48–53), who stresses the symbolic significance of Judas Cyriacus: “Judas Cyriacus thus exemplifies all Jews. He is universal; in him the Christian desideratum, the universal conversion of the Jews, is embodied” (p. 49). The turning point in Cyriacus’ tale, however, remains the violence that Helen inflicts on him: the use of violence to convert Jews is therefore presented in a positive light. 16 Trovato (2018, 70, and 72). 17 Trovato (2018, 73). Moreover, in the redaction cod. Hagias Triados 100 from the library of the Patriarchate of Constantinople the saint, before dying, screams in a phone megale (Trovato 2018, 83), just like Jesus on the Cross according to Matthew 27:46, Mark 15:34, and Luke 23:48. The saint is killed not by beheading but after a blow to the chest, possibly a vague allusion to John 19:34, according to whom a soldier thrust a spear into Jesus’ side. The Hebrew prayer that Cyriacus utters as he is being tortured (Trovato 2018, 70–71) may also be inspired by the Aramaic one uttered by Jesus on the Cross (Matthew 27:46 and Mark 15:34). 18 This contrast is highlighted by the saint himself: he states that, despite being unworthy, he received the episcopal dignity from Christ, just as Julian, despite being unworthy, received the imperial throne from God (Trovato 2018, 66–67). 19 Therefore, what Dufourcq (1988, 298) writes about the opposition between Julian and Constantine on the basis of the Latin passion of Cyriacus BHL 7022– 7023 cannot apply to the Greek passion of Cyriacus. One example of an explicit contrast between Julian and Constantine in the Latin Middle Ages is provided by Hildebert’s poem De inventione Sanctae Crucis, which devotes several verses to a comparison between the two emperors: for instance, Hic Constantino subiit, corvinus ovino: / Hic lupus, hic agnus; hic rex pius, ille tyrannus (PL 171, 1318). On Hildebert, see Donnini (2010, 1–15). 20 On the Syriac Romance and Julian, see Chapter VI. 21 Apart from the same name, the Eusebius who was pope under Maxentius does not have much in common with the Eusebius featured in the Syriac Romance, although the former figure may have inspired the latter (see Canella 2013, 251 and Trovato 2014a, 265 n. 57). 22 See Van Esbroeck (1988, 216). Eusebius the Bishop of Rome is also mentioned, as Cyriacus’ baptiser, in passion BHG 465b (Trovato 2018, 66). This tradition may have influenced the author of the Syriac Romance, although in this work the pope survives because Julian does not wish to give the Christians any more martyrs (as is clear from the translation by Gollancz 1928, 45–65). The author of the so-called Syriac Romance does not conceal the fact that Julian sought to fight Christianity without resorting to violent persecution (see the translation of another passage in Gollancz 1928, 249). 23 See the translation of this passage in Gollancz (1928, 20). According to Loenertz (1975, 428), Van Esbroeck (1990, 188), and Kohlbacher (2002, 36), the original version of the legend of Cyriacus also included an account of Constantine’s conversion: if this is the case, we must assume that the legend drew a contrast between the two emperors, at least implicitly. 24 Van Esbroeck (1990, 184–185). 25 According to Van Esbroeck (1979, 102), under Justinian’s reign; according to Kazhdan (1987, 200), between the 6th and the 9th century (he believes it is impossible “to establish a more exact date”); according to Nesbitt (2003, 30–39) and Scott (2004, 157–158), between the mid-6th century and 614. 26 See Borgehammar (1991, 24–25, and 187), Van Esbroeck (1999b, 107), and Kohlbacher (2002, 38).

Telescoping Julian and Constantine  165 27 PG 87:3, 4072. 28 Van Esbroeck (1979, 120). Van Esbroeck (1990, 189) notes the difference between the first part of the legend of Cyriacus, which was quite popular in Byzantium, and the second part (Cyriacus’ martyrdom), which disappeared almost completely. 29 See Luzzi (1992, 617 n. 101) on the almost complete lack of hymns to this saint. Kohlbacher (2002, 38): because the day of Cyriacus’ death “in den meisten Festkalendarien fehlt, gibt es nur sehr wenige Handschriften des Martyriums”. 30 With regard to the discovery of the True Cross, we read that Cyriacus was martyred under Julian (Halkin 1959, 93). 31 Gretser (1734, 436). Moreover, according to Halkin (1968, 444) Cyriacus is the bishop depicted alongside Helen and Constantine in a fresco in the naos of a monastery founded on Cyprus in the 11th century. 32 The Greek passion of this saint is a compilation devoid of historical elements, inspired by passions of military saints. The persecution edict, the duel between the saint and the barbarian, the vain tortures, the witchcraft charge, the martyr’s visions in jail, the torturers’ conversion, and the martyr’s final prayers are all elements of which Delehaye (1910, 277–278) finds numerous examples in epic passions (see also Delehaye 1966a, 176 on the persecution edict, 203–204 on the tortures, and 215 on the miracle of the bull coming to life and walking off). Aigrain (2000, 147) mentions an episode from the passion of Barbarus as an example of what he calls the “abus du merveilleux”. Von Falkenhausen (2005, 138) describes the text as a hagiographical cento. 33 Cf. Chapter V concerning the possible influence of the passion of Cyriacus on another hagiographical text, the passion of Eugenius and Macarius BHG 2126 and 2127. 34 Byzantine and Bulgarian texts mention another St Barbarus – a hermit – and other saints with the same name who lived after Julian’s reign (Delehaye 1910, 279–281; see also Thomson 2001, 373): as many as four saints named Barbarus are known, although according to Delehaye (1910, 284–286) there was only one St Barbarus, whose cult spread around the 9th century, or possibly even earlier, in the Balkans. According to Delehaye (1910, 288), the figure of Barbarus derives from St Christopher, who had Barbarus as one of his epithets and whose feast day is 9 May, around the time when St Barbarus is commemorated: as nothing was known about this new saint, various legends cropped up about him, connected to various sites of worship. Delehaye’s hypothesis, mentioned by Da Costa-Louillet (1961, 310), is challenged by Zakythinos (1960, 441–442) (quoted by Lampsidis 1966, 40) – according to whom there were two saints named Barbarus, the martyr and the hermit – and by Sahas (1996–1997, 52–53). Lilie (1999, 244–245) mentions the hypotheses of Delehaye and Zakythinos. 35 Delehaye (1910, 289). 36 Delehaye (1910, 291). The author of the passion of Cyriacus writes that Julian learns about Cyriacus’ existence when he is about to set out on his Persian campaign and therefore visits Jerusalem, where the passion is set. The author of the passion of St Barbarus therefore recounts that Julian sentenced Cyriacus in Jerusalem and then set out to wage war on the Franks, rather than the Persians – possibly a vague echo of Sulpicius Severus’ Vita Martini BHL 5610, in which Julian fights the barbarians in Gaul. 37 After a miracle, Barbarus calls Julian a tyrant and the emperor has snake-charmers (theriomakhoi) and their animals summoned (Delehaye 1910, 297). In the passion of Cyriacus BHG 465 mention is made of theria and charmers (Papadopolous-Kerameus 1907, 171), whereas in the passion of Cyriacus BHG 465b (Trovato 2018, 72) and in that of Eugenius and Macarius BHG 2126

166  Telescoping Julian and Constantine (in Halkin 1960c, 47), the snake-charmers summoned by Julian are referred to as theriodeiktai. 38 Delehaye (1910, 294). Julian is “the devil’s son” in the passion of Cyriacus (Trovato 2018, 72). 39 In this passion, the miraculous intervention of the angel Gabriel leads to the conversion of Bacchus and the torturers, who proclaim themselves to be Christians (Delehaye 1910, 293). A passage from Gregory’s first invective (or. 4.84) describes the protests by Julian’s soldiers, who have unwittingly sacrificed to the gods, in similar terms (Bernardi 1983, 212). 40 For example, spurred by the devil, the Apostate sentences the saint to be roasted alive in a scalding bronze bull, but the flames die out and the bull walks off (Delehaye 1910, 299). See Franchi de’ Cavalieri (1946, 160–161 n. 3) on the mention (in Parastaseis 42) of the existence – in the Forum Bovis in Constantinople – of a huge bull-shaped bronze kiln that Julian used to kill many Christians, and which was finally destroyed by Heraclius. Among the various saints mentioned by Franchi de’ Cavalieri, the closest similarity is to be found precisely with St Barbarus, who according to his passion was martyred under Julian. 41 We have a collection of miracles attributed to this saint (Miracula Artemii BHG 173), but it makes no mention of Julian, except for a vague reference to the fact that the pagans hoped to wipe out the Christians (in Crisafulli/Nesbitt 1997, 172). This collection also circulated together with the passion of Artemius (see Noret 1977, 112 and Foti 1983, 128–130) and attests to the saint’s popularity in the 7th century in Constantinople, where he continued to be venerated as late as the 11th century (see Ciggaar 1976, 259). According to Busine (2015, 131–135 and 2018b, 93–111), the cult of Artemius as a healer saint became established in Constantinople, replacing that of Artemis Phosporos. The mention in Theodoret’s Ecclesiastical History would have inspired the creation of a martyr who at the same time could “perpétuer la réputation noire et sanguinaire de l’empereur apostat”. On the unreliability of the tradition presenting Artemius as a martyr of the Christian faith, see Burgess (2003, 5–36) and Teitler (2017, 40–48). 42 According to De Gaiffier (1960, 39) and Aubert (1963, 1345), the author of the passion of Artemius BHG 169 was the first to link the tale of Eugenius and Macarius to that of Artemius in order to present the latter as an innocent martyr of Julian’s wickedness. 43 A list of manuscripts in Kotter (1988, 195–196). According to Linder (1975, 54–55), the Artemii passio contributed to the spread of the legend of Constantine. 44 For example, in Chapter 45 of the Artemii passio Artemius combines the version of the apparition of the heavenly Cross that appeared to Constantine first recounted by Eusebius of Caesarea (daytime vision) with Philostorgius’ version (night-time vision), as already noted by Bidez (1935, 409). See the commentary in Bleckmann/Stein (2015b, 52). 45 On these topoi in the passion, see Delehaye (1966a, 186, 192, 196, and 214). Among the main sources, mention is made at the beginning of the Artemii passio of an ancient hypomnema (presumably Passion BHG 169), which the hagiographer chiefly combines with other material, including texts from Philostorgius (for the reconstruction of which he represents an essential source) and Photius, according to the text’s current reconstruction (see Bidez 1981, XLIV–LVIII, and Bleckmann/Stein 2015a, 23–28). According to Kazhdan (1988, 201), the ancient hypomnema mentioned by the hagiographer in Artemii passio 2 (in Kotter 1988, 203) is not a previous passion, but rather a reference to one of the most common hagiographical topoi, namely the idea of the use of a source contemporary to the events that are being described. According to Déroche (1993, 98 n. 9), the author of the Miracula Artemii was also familiar with Passion BHG 169.

Telescoping Julian and Constantine  167 46 Artemius’ intervention in favour of Eugenius and Macarius, through scathing words quoting the last pronouncement delivered by the Delphic Oracle about the end of paganism (a fabrication: see Guida 1998, 389–413), marks the transition to the work’s second part, in which the harsh dialectical confrontation between the emperor and Artemius is interrupted by the description of cruel tortures and miracles, and the insertion of passages from Philostorgius. After the torturing of Artemius (Chapter 67), the text ends with the Apostate’s defeat: the failure of his attempt to rebuild the Temple of Jerusalem and his death in the Persian war (Chapters 68–70). 47 See Bleckmann/Stein (2015a, 27–28), according to whom the hagiographer expands the “beschränkte Darstellung” present in Philostorgius. 48 For example, the trial against Constantius II’s followers (Chapter 21), the order to rebuild pagan temples that had been destroyed (Chapter 22), and the seizing of ecclesiastical properties in Antioch by the comes orientis Julian, the ­emperor’s uncle (Chapter 23). Also in Chapter 24 Julian is referred to as basileus, by c­ ontrast to a section derived from epic passions, where he is called tyrannos ­(Chapter 25). 49 Kotter (1988, 220–221). Julian applies the verb aphistemi to Constantine, which is etymologically connected to apostasia. 50 In Chapter 68 mention is made of Julian’s order to reconstruct the Temple of Jerusalem. 51 Lieu (1996b, 257 n. 10) highlights the contrast between Constantine as a destroyer of temples and Julian as the restorer of paganism in Chapters 5 and 33 of the Artemii passio (Kotter 1988, 204 and 220), a contrast also noted by Kazhdan (1988, 202). 52 Kotter (1998, 225) (transl. in Lieu 1996b, 239). 53 This passage occurs in fr. 2,16a of Philostorgius (Bleckmann/Stein 2015a, 200; see the commentary in Bleckmann/Stein 2015b, 162), according to whom it is likely that the hagiographer drew upon Philostorgius as far as Julian’s accusations against Helen and Constantine are concerned (according to Bleckmann/Stein 2015a, 28 Philostorgius is indirectly used by the hagiographer). See also n. 61. 54 Kotter (1988, 225). And his son Constantius, imitating his father, killed my brother Gallus […] Had we not been saved by the providence of the gods, he wanted to do the same to us, but the gods prevented him, by vouching safety (soterian) to me in person. Relying on these gods I abjured Christianity and inclined to the Hellenic life. (Lieu 1996b, 239–240) 55 What seems less plausible is a comparison with fragment 57 Masaracchia of Contra Galilaeos (transmitted by Cyril in the seventh book of Contra Iulianum), in which Julian recalls that he was personally healed by Asclepius (Masaracchia 1990, 151). In this fragment the context is an illness, whereas in the passage from Chapter 41 of the Artemii passio the context is that of the palace intrigues that Julian describes, for instance, in his letter Ad Athenienses. 56 Soteres (Nesselrath 2015b, 48). 57 See Amm. XXI.10.8. 58 Constantine “was easily deceived by men and uneducated and proved to be stupid, introduced innovations in religion, and revoked the Roman laws and ­i nclined towards Christianity” (Kotter 1988, 226; transl. in Lieu 1996b, 240). 59 Nesselrath (2015b, 42). 60 The myth recounted by Julian in Contra Heracleum 22 (228a–c) opens with a description of the tragic fate of Constantine’s sons, who were destined to be

168  Telescoping Julian and Constantine wiped out on account of their impiety, while in Artemii passio 43 Julian states: “The gods were disgusted at these unholy crimes” (of Constantine) “and his cursed and execrable seed and his whole family they obliterated from among mankind” (Kotter 1988, 226; transl. in Lieu 1996b, 241). 61 For example, even in the so-called first Syriac Romance the emperor harshly criticises Constantine’s policy in a fanciful letter to the pope (transl. in Gollancz 1928, 20). Amerise (2006, 340) stresses that the harsh criticisms directed against the first Christian emperor are “argomenti confluiti nella polemica pagana, che rimontano a Julian”. 62 Passage Chapter 43 with the accusations against Constantius II is included in fr. 6,5b of Philostorgius (Bleckmann/Stein 2015a, 296; see the commentary in Bleckmann/Stein 2015b, 331), where the attribution to Philostorgius is nonetheless regarded as “nicht zwingend”; see also n. 53. It is impossible to ascertain whether Philostorgius was familiar with Julian’s propaganda from Eunapius, Zosimus, or the emperor’s own works. See Bleckmann/Stein (2015a, 73–79) on the relationship between Philostorgius and the historian Eunapius, and Malosse (2011, 208–209) on Philostorgius and Julian. 63 See Amerise (2006, 340). On Constantine in Julian’s writings, see also Amerise (2002, 141–149). 64 Kotter (1988, 221, 225, and 226). Constantine is defended by Artemius in Chapter 45 of the Artemii passio (Kotter 1988, 227–228). Artemius further adds (in Chapter 47) a reference to the “ancestral traditions”, meaning the Christian ones, as though Julian were the revolutionary and the Christians the conservatives (Kotter 1988, 229; transl. in Lieu 1996b, 243). Here we may detect the influence of Gregory of Nazianzus, who in the first invective (or. 4.45, 4.74, and 4.101) accuses Julian of being a revolutionary. 65 For example, Cyril of Alexandria (who in Contra Iulianum III.33 and III.37 transmits fragments 18 and 19 Masaracchia of Contra Galilaeos, in PG 76, 648a and 652d; Masaracchia 1990, 107, and 109; Riedweg 2016, 214 –fragment 18 is on pp. 214–215 – and 222 – fragment 19 is on pp. 222–223); Sozomen V.16.5–15, who quotes Julian’s ep. 84 Bidez. In particular, in Sozomen V.16.12 Julian stresses the need to respect ancient Hellenic traditions (Bidez 1924, 146, 1960, 218). Other, similar passages are to be found, for example in ep. 89a Bidez (Bidez 1924, 153) and in In Helium Regem 136b (Chapter 11), where the Apostate evokes the ancient tradition of his native land, represented by Greek poetry. In ep. 88 Bidez (Bidez 1924, 151) the emperor proclaims himself “pontifex maximus in accordance with the traditions of my homeland”. 66 In Chapter 42 he tells Artemius that it is evident that sacred images must be respected, yet that they ought not to be worshipped as deities, repeating the word “icons” twice: So men have set up images of them [the gods] and worship and honour them, and at the same time invented certain stories for their own amusement. But they do not worship their images as gods, banish the thought! For the more simple and rural sort of people believe this; while those who follow philosophy and have accurately examined the affairs of the gods know to whom to pay their honour and to whom passes the reverence of divine statues. (Kotter 1988, 226; transl. in Lieu 1996b, 240) In these words attributed to Julian we can detect an echo of the passage from Porphyry’s De simulacris that Eusebius of Caesarea quotes in Praeparatio evangelica III.7, and which would therefore have been accessible to a Byzantine scholar (Smith 1993, 408). However, similarities are also to be found with ep. 89b Bidez (in Bidez 1924, 160–162, who in his apparatus includes a comment against Julian by a Byzantine reader which later came to be incorporated into

Telescoping Julian and Constantine  169 the text of ep. 89b). See Barnard (1974, 83–85) concerning the cult of holy images according to pagan authors, including Julian. Although it cannot be ruled out that the author of the Artemii passio was familiar with Julian’s works, it is more likely that he drew upon pagan polemical texts via apologetic works. Moreover, Julian’s arguments in favour of the veneration of “icons” of the gods clearly reflect polemics from the iconoclastic age. One of the iconodules’ catchphrases in their defence of images was the following statement from Basil of Caesarea’s De spiritu sancto 18.45 CPG 2839: “the honour paid to an icon passes to the prototype” (Pruche 1968, 406). Even the formula of submission (Gouillard 1967, 296) used by Basil, the Bishop of Ancyra, at the 787 Council of Nicea (see Lilie 1999, 288–289) presents certain similarities with Julian’s statements in the Artemii passio (Kotter 1988, 226). By contrast, the iconoclasts criticised the veneration of icons as a form of idolatry (see Strezova 2008, 88). 67 The statement from Basil, which John of Damascus quotes in defence of icons in several passages of De imaginibus (I.21 = II.15; I.35 = II.31 = III.48; I.51 = II.47; III.15; III.41), was repeatedly used by iconodule authors (see Ševčenko 1977a, 127), as well as at the 787 Council of Nicea del 787 (Mansi 1767, 69C, 72C, and 324B). It also came to be included in its horos (solemn final statement – Mansi 1767, 377E). In De Imaginibus I.36 (Kotter 1975, 148) John employs an argument similar to that which Julian makes in Artemii passio 42 (Kotter 1988, 226). This work is attributed to St John of Damascus (who would therefore be consciously putting into the wicked emperor’s mouth an iconodule slogan, also quoted in De imaginibus I.21) by Kotter (1988, 186–187), Beck (1959, 482), Markopoulos (1985, 209; hesitantly); Kotter (1988, 185–187), Barnes (1993, 8), Volk (1996, 90, 1997, 1221), Guida (1998, 389) (“probabilmente”); Louth (1998, 250–253, and 2002, 227–228), Brennecke (2004, 101), Olewiński (2004, 548, 552, and 568), Marasco (2003, 258, 2005a, 847–848 n. 93, 2005b, 123), and Aiello (2008, 32). In summing up Burgess’ 2003 hypothesis, Asutay-Effenberger/Effenberger (2006, 148) still appear to accept John of Damascus’ authorship, even though Burgess dates the Artemii passio to the 9th century, thereby ruling out the possibility that John might be the author. According to Olewiński (2004, 548, 552, and 568; see also Barnard 1977, 13), John believes that the pagans shared his opinion of how divine images ought to be treated, and hence entrusts the wicked emperor with a defence of the veneration of icons, as though to suggest that the iconoclasts are even worse than the Apostate – precisely in an age in which the use of the negative epithet “new Julian” was repeatedly applied to iconoclast emperors. The Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit dates John of Rhodes to the second half of the 7th century or to the 8th century, yet it also mentions John of Damascus as the possible author of the Artemii passio (Lilie 2000, 241). The work is instead attributed to one John of Rhodes – only known from the manuscript tradition – by Bidez (1981, XLIV). John of Rhodes was active in the 9th century according to Ehrhard (in Krumbacher 1897, 199), Förster (1905, 5 n. 2), Grégoire (1905, 42), Allard (1910, 32 n. 5), and Dufourcq (1988, 188 n. 1). In addition to Bidez, other scholars who attribute the Artemii passio to John of Rhodes include: (Patzig 1897, 326; Krascheninnikov 1915, 94; Klostermann/Seeberg 1924, 19; Vogt 1930, 791; Bardy 1936, 12 n. 26; Scott 1936, 236 n. 1; Binon 1937a, 48 and 1937b, 25; Ehrhard 1937, 469 and 1938, 391; Delehaye 1940, 465; Bardy 1948, 879; Scaduto 1949, 54; Kirsch 1957, 908; Dvornik 1958, 227, followed by DiMaio 1988, 233 n. 21; Bowra 1959, 429; Brock 1977, 276; Haussleiter 1978–1979, 481; Gregory 1983, 356; Cameron/Herrin 1984, 40; Neri 1985, 134 n. 48; Nobbs 1990, 252; Wallraff 1997, 238; Cabouret 1997, 142 n. 1; Nesbitt (in Crisafulli/Nesbitt 1997, 4); Burgess 2003, 5, followed by Schiffer 2004, 403; Boulhol 2004, 107; Wortley 2005, 216; Kassapides/Savvides 2007, 404. Karayannopulos/Weiss 1982, 149, and 247 date John of Rhodes to the 7th

170  Telescoping Julian and Constantine century, confusing – as already noted in Lilie 2000, 241 – Artemii passio BHG 170–171 with Miracula Artemii BHG 173). Carile (2002, 61) suggests a dating to the 9th century, which would rule out John of Damascus’ authorship. 68 Mansi (1767, 276B and 1767, 232A). See Auzépy (2007, 336 n. 57) concerning the presence of this accusation even in hagiographical works from the iconoclastic period. 69 Kotter (1975, 161). Rosen (2006, 401) posits an iconoclastic origin for the legend of Mercurius’ refutation found in the Chronicle by Michael Glykas, active in the 12th century (see Chapter X). 70 Various versions of the emperor’s death are found in Chapter 69, partly drawing upon the historical tradition of the 4th century and partly from legend: according to some accounts, Julian was killed by a spear blow from a soldier, or by a Saracen auxiliary in the Persian ranks; but – the hagiographer continues – according to the true tradition, which is the Christian one (Kotter 1988, 243), the Apostate was killed by an arrow fired in accordance with Christ’s will. In one case, therefore, the hagiographer echoes 4th-century authors (possibly via Philostorgius), who do not mention any miracles; in the other, the author of the Artemii passio explicitly claims that it was Christ’s intervention which miraculously brought an end to Julian’s endeavours (Kotter 1988, 243). According to Bidez, the first two hypotheses (the killer was a soldier or Saracen in the Persians’ service) reflect the presence of several versions in Philostorgius, whereas the last hypothesis derives from a source other than Philostorgius. 71 Binon (1937b, 23–25) had already noted that, despite its popularity, the legend of Mercurius, featured in John of Damascus’ work did not become ubiquitous: among other examples, he refers precisely to the Artemii passio, which gives several versions of Julian’s death without ever mentioning the saint (see also Nostitz-Rieneck 1907, 20). 72 For example, once in Chapter 7 and 8, twice in Chapter 26, once in 32, once in 34, once in 39, once in 47, twice in 59, once in 60, once in 64, once in 68, once in 70 (Kotter 1988, 205, 215, 216, 219, 220, 224, 228, 236, 239, 242, and 244). In Passion BHG 169z, as published by Bidez in 1913, parabates is used at the beginning and the end, in the latter case accompanied by apostates (Bidez 1913, 166, and 175). Instead, in the corresponding passages of Passion BHG 169, as published by Winkelmann 1981, neither epithet is found (Winkelmann 1981, 166 and 175). Julian is also called parabates (Dmitrievski 1895, 14) in the entry for Artemius present in an ancient typikon-synaxarion (which according to Luzzi 1995, 5 n. 3 was compiled in the late 9th or early 10th century). 73 Kotter (1988, 203 and 219). Apostates is less commonly used than parabates as an epithet for Julian in Byzantine chronicles, judging from the quotes in Christophilopoulou (1966–1967, 53–54). 74 Kotter (1975, 161). 75 Kotter (1975, 193). In a note, Kotter states that he was unable to identify the work by John Chrysostom (classified as no. 4495.27 in the CPG) in which J­ ulian is described as a new Nabuchadnezzar: “non inveni”. This may either be a ­spurious work or the result of a conflation between Chrysostom and Gregory of ­Nazianzus, who calls Julian Nabuchadnezzar in or. 42.3 (Bernardi 1992, 56). 76 See Volk (2009) concerning a similar case from another work erroneously attributed to John of Damascus in the past, the famous Historiae animae utilis de Barlaam et Ioasaph. According to Kahzhdan, various elements weigh against the hypothesis that John of Damascus might be the author of the Artemii passio: in Chapter 24 (Kotter 1988, 215), Iconium is described as the “furthermost city” of Phrygia, which is correct for someone approaching it from Constantinople, not Syria; moreover, in Chapter 64 (Kotter 1988, 239), the hagiographer calls “Roman” and “ours”, i.e. Greek, the laws transgressed by the saint – t­ herefore, the hagiographer is not presenting himself as Syrian. However, the first passage

Telescoping Julian and Constantine  171 is derived from Philostorgius (fr. 7,4c in Bleckmann/Stein 2015a, 316), while in the second – where “ours” is used to mean “Greek” – the hagiographer is letting Julian speak. Therefore, these are not passages from which it is possible to infer any information about the Artemii passio’s author. According to Kazhdan/Maguire (1991, 10), the author was at any rate opposed to iconoclasm. The hypothesis put forward by Peeters (1929, 318) and Peri (1976, 15) concerning late-antique Alexandria as the common place of origin of the passions of Catherine and Pansophius and of the Artemii passio proves untenable because the similarities which these scholars have identified between these passions prove non-existent once we consider the source of the Artemii passio, namely the passion of Artemius BHG 169. Dufourcq (1988, 193–195 and 197) notes certain similarities between the passion of Artemius, that of George, and that of Catherine without positing Alexandria as their common place of origin (on p. 215 he argues that the first redactors of the passions of George and Artemius were connected to the milieu of the learned empress Eudocia). De Nicola (2004–2005, 264) follows Peri, but acknowledges that similarities between passions are quite common and hence caution is advised. Indeed, the author of the Artemii passio may have drawn on several sources, including previous hagiographical works – particularly very popular texts (such as the passion of Catherine) – and collections already used by other hagiographers. For example, Klostermann/Seeberg (1924, 19, 25, 27, 37, 42–44, and 54) repeatedly refer to similarities between the passion of Catherine and the Artemii passio, particularly as regards the use of oracular literature. 77 See the letter by Germanus, Patriarch of Constantinople under Leo III, in PG 98, 185D (see Barnard 1977, 13 and the commentary in Stein 1980, 79–80). This part of Chapter 57 of the Artemii passio derives from Philostorgius (fr. 7,3a in Bleckmann/Stein 2015a, 308 and 310): had the author been a champion of iconoclasm, he would have censored it. 78 Kotter (1988, 227). This link is assumed by John of Damascus in Contra imaginum calumniatores (Kotter 1975, 107). 79 This was the case, for instance, with the lives of Leo of Catania BHG 981 and 981b, which according to Acconcia Longo (1989, 43–55) derive from an originally iconoclastic text (see also Acconcia Longo 2007, 8). 80 According to Déroche (1993, 116), the cult of the miracle-worker Artemius would appear not to have survived iconoclasm (the practice described in miracle 31, for instance, is among those opposed by the iconoclasts). The saint is mentioned in Chapter 36 of a Latin translation – produced sometime between 1089 and 1096 – of a description of Constantinople (Ciggaar 1976, 259). According to Walter (2003, 193), “[i]t cannot be known exactly when the shrine of St Artemius ceased to function; no doubt, however, it was before the twelfth century”. 81 Crispus, Constantine’s son, is called Priscus in the text by Philostorgius known to Photius, and in Chapter 43 of the Artemii passio (fr. 2,4 and 2,4b of Philostorgius in Kotter 1988, 226; Bleckmann/Stein 2015a, 172 and 176). See Bidez (1981, CXLV), and Bleckmann/Stein (2015b, 106). The name Crispus is correctly used in Vita Constantini BHG 365, known as the Opitz-vita, written after Photius and also either directly or indirectly dependent on Philostorgius (fr 2,4a in Bleckmann/Stein 2015a, 174). Opitz-vita BHG 365 is a compilation of historical works (such as Philostorgius) and legendary traditions (Bleckmann/Stein 2015a, 29–33; see also Kazhdan 1987, 201–202; Bleckmann 1992b, 165–166). Bleckmann (2004, 185). According to Winkelmann (1978, 182) and Lieu (1996a, 104), the Opitz-vita was written in the 10th or 11th century; according to Beck (1959, 566), in the 10th; according to Fusco (1992, 430), between the 9th and the 11th century; according to Spieser (2009, 131–132), between the late 9th and early 11th century; according to Bleckmann/Stein (2015a, 29–30 n. 3), between

172  Telescoping Julian and Constantine the second half of the 9th and the late 10th century. Even after Photius, the erudite milieus in Constantinople fluctuated in the choice of the name attributed to Constantine’s firstborn son: in Suida è Kriskos in kappa 2446 (Adler 1933, 190), ma Priskos in pi 2302 (Adler 1935, 196). 82 This passion enjoyed considerable popularity, so much so that one of the two codices transmitting redaction BHG 638 presents the text in relation not to the feast of Eusignius, but to the day (21 May) of St Constantine (Winkelmann 1970, 278), as though it were a canonical account of Constantine’s life. This passion is devoid of historical value (see Krascheninnikov 1915, 83; Delehaye 1940, 324; De Gaiffier 1956, 22–23, followed by Downey 1961, 393 n. 82; Sauget 1964, 279, Janin 1967, 1; Teitler 2017, 107–112). Bidez (1981, CLIX), Dufourcq (1988, 188 n. 1), Goussen (1923, 28), and Brennecke (1988, 153 n. 205) posit a connection between the cult of Eusignius and Arian hagiography, while according to Fatti (2009b, 78) some of the information might not be legendary. An attempt to explain the origin of the legend was made by Bayan (1928, 482 n. 1), according to whom it stems from a distortion of an account about Eusebius (later turned into Eusignius) as a martyr (“witness”) to Constantine’s life. According to Basset (1915, 532), the name “Eusignios” is a corruption of “Eugenios”. Previously, Ludolf (1691, 428 n. IV) had already sought to explain Eusignius as a corruption of Eugenius, regarding this Eugenius as Macarius’ companion. 83 The first Christian emperor is the protagonist of many medieval Greek lives, also known by the names of the philologists who published them. In addition to the epitomes BHG 365z, 366, and 366a, included in 8th- or 9th-century menologia, the most important texts are the life BHG 364 (Guidi-vita, according to Kazhdan (1987, 201) the most popular among the various versions), life BHG 365 (Opitz-vita), and life BHG 365n (Halkin-vita or Patmos-vita). In addition to Eusebius of Caesarea, the Opitz-vita BHG 365 draws upon the heretic Philostorgius and apparently even the pagan Zosimus (see n. 81). The so-called Gedeon-vita (BHG 363), which would appear to date from the 12th century (see Kazhdan 1987, 203), is a compilation of previous lives (see Lieu 2006, 307). Winkelmann (1987, 623 – followed by Lieu 1996a, 101) – has posited the existence of a “Grundvita” that can be reconstructed on the basis of the epitomes BHG 365z, 366, and 366a, and of redaction B of the Guidi-vita BHG 364. According to Kazhdan (1999, 129) these texts were instead independently composed, for propaganda purposes, during the second stage of the struggle between the iconoclasts and the iconodules (see also Kazhdan 1987, 211, according to whom “the peak of interest in the Constantine-story occurs approximately in the ninth century when most of them were compiled”). According to Kazhdan (1987, 248), the iconoclastic polemic against the iconodule Irene – Constantine VI’s mother and the regent of the Byzantine empire after 780 – lies at the origin of the portrayal of Constantine I’s mother, Helen, as a prostitute. In 787 Constantine VI and his mother Irene were described as the “new Helen” and “new Constantine” (in Mansi 1766, 1058A, and 1154D and 1767, 416E and 455C); from an opposite perspective, Constantine V had been acclaimed as the “new Constantine” in 754 (Mansi 1767, 353B). According to Rydén (1970, 36–38), the author of the Vita Theodori Syceotae BHG 1748 (early 7th century) was familiar with the legend of Constantine’s birth to the prostitute Helen. Concerning the folklore elements associated with the legend of Constantine’s birth from a prostitute, see Lieu (2006, 308–309) (according to Lieu 2006, 309–313 we also find novellalike elements, reminiscent of One Thousand and One Nights, in the legend of Euphratas, a kind of Christian vizier of Constantine’s). For various interpretations of the relationship between Constantine I and Constantine V, see Kazhdan (1999, 135) (according to whom echoes are to be found of the propaganda of the iconoclast emperor bearing the same name in the legend of Constantine);

Telescoping Julian and Constantine  173 Magdalino (1999, 140–145, 2007, 20; according to whom there is no “evidence that Constantine V explicitly identified with Constantine the great”); Brubaker (2012, 51); Acconcia Longo (2012b, 226). Legendary traditions about Constantine are also found in the Patria, in chronicles, and in Byzantine hagiographical works. For example, Chapters 14–15 and 17–18 of the Halkin-vita also occur in the anonymous Inventio crucis BHG 412 (see Halkin 1959, 92 n. 2). On information common to the Halkin-vita, Kedrenos, the Synopsis Sathas, and Patria, see Halkin (1959, 70, 102 n. 2, and 103 n. 2). According to Mango (1994, 148 n. 31), George Synkellos’ work may have inspired some episodes and names in the legend of Constantine (on p. 149 he also points to certain similarities with a local tradition from Cherson, Crimea, reported in Constantine VII’s De administrando imperio). On Constantine in Byzantine literature, see also Pratsch (2017, 65–83) and Scott (2017, 8–32). 84 When classifying the various redactions of the passion of Eusignius with a view to a critical edition that was never published, Winkelmann (1970, 278–279) suggested we follow Krascheninnikov (1915, 83–85) in distinguishing between three “recensiones” of the passion of Eusignius, respectively corresponding to BHG 638, BHG 640, and BHG 639. According to Winkelmann (1970, 280), redactions 638, 639, and y independently derive from a previous text. According to Winkelmann, out of the three redactions just mentioned, BHG 638 provides “die ursprünglichste und beste Fassung”. Winkelmann (1970, 288) suggests that the “Vorlage” be traced back to the 7th or 8th century. Rydén (1970, 37) also dates the passion of Eusignius BHG 639 to the 7th or 8th century, following Coen (1881, 296), and Heydenreich (1893, 14, 1894, 93, and 1894/1895, 154) – who actually more cautiously argued that the passion of Eusignius dated from the 7th or 8th century at the earliest. According to Winkelmann (1970, 288), the “Vorlage” lies at the basis of redactions BHG 638, 639, 640, and y, all of which depend on an archetype that already contained certain errors. Therefore, according to Winkelmann, BHG 638e is not the earliest redaction on which the others depend (which is instead what Krascheninnikov 1915, 83 argued). 85 See Winkelmann (1970, 287). Nau (1905, 162) instead considered the Metaphrast to be the author of Guidi-vita BHG 364, one of the hagiographical texts about Constantine. 86 Kazhdan (1987, 203) notes the anachronism created by Eusignius’ hagiographer (Devos 1982, 228, and Klien-Paweletz 2002, 186) in presenting Basil the Great as the Bishop of Caesarea during Julian’s reign. The author may have been familiar with the legend of St Mercurius’ miraculous intervention after the confrontation between the emperor and Basil in Caesarea, but the passion of Eusignius reflects the role that Caesarea played in the Early Middle Ages as an assembly point for the Byzantine troops (see Hild/Restle 1981, 194; see also Kaegi 2003, 132, and 141 concerning Caesarea’s importance in Heraclius’ war against Khosrow II). See Kazhdan (1987, 204) concerning the Persokomitai which appear at the end of the account about Constantine’s legendary Persian war and Caesarea’s importance as a military base in the passion of Eusignius, in relation to the dating of the legend of Constantine. 87 Devos (1982, 218); this and the following quotes are drawn from redaction BHG 639. 88 Devos (1982, 218). 89 In Western Europe, Liutprand of Cremona uses this term precisely with reference to the Byzantine chronicles (in Relatio 12): “Romulum fratricidam […] porniogenitum, hoc est adulterio natum, chronographia innotuit” (Chiesa 1998, 192). Romolus and Remus are indeed described as pornogennetoi in Chronographia VII.7 by Malalas and in the Paschal Chronicle (Thurn 2000, 137; PG 92, 211; see Trovato 2017, 45–50). As far as hagiographical works are concerned,

174  Telescoping Julian and Constantine we find this term in Vita Theodori Syceotae BHG 1748 (Festugière 1970a, 16, 71, and 140; for other attestations of the term, see Festugière 1970b, 180–181). 90 Consider the explicit defence of imperial majesty that Julian delivers in version BHG 638 (Klien-Paweletz 2002, 171) and in the Coptic version (transl. in Devos 1982, 203). 91 Passion BHG 639 has been published by Devos (1982, 213–228) (the digression is found on pp. 219–227). 92 Halkin (1959, 85). 93 This work was clearly written before the process of hagiographical and stylistic standardisation which began in the 10th century with the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion, and which continued with Symeon the Metaphrast; furthermore, a Coptic translation of the text was already circulating in Egypt by the late 10th century (see Coquin/Lucchesi 1982, 190). 94 See Coen (1881, 309). According to Kazhdan (1987, 204), “St. Artemiuss appears [to be] St. Eusigniuss’s double”, but one might equally argue the opposite. According to Lieu (1998, 156), in the passions of Cyriacus, Eusignius, and Artemius the contrast between Constantine and Julian is an important element for the hagiographers’ purposes, so much so that the two emperors are juxtaposed: “they are often chronologically telescoped and much biographical material on Constantine can also be gleaned from the acta of the martyrs under Julian who had personally experienced the Christian policies of Julian” (see also Lieu 1996b, 218). Likewise, Van Esbroeck (1984a, 132) stresses the similarities between the legends of Cyriacus, Eusignius, and Eusebius of Rome (featured in the so-called Syriac Romance). Actually, in the passion of Cyriacus the contrast between Constantine and Julian is merely implicit, and the first Christian emperor is only mentioned at the beginning as Julian’s predecessor. In the passion of Cyriacus, therefore, there is no polemic on Constantine’s birth, whereas this polemic is central to the debate between Julian and Eusignius, and between Julian and Artemius. 95 Schiffer (2004, 404) highlights another similarity: both works stress the importance of the recording and disclosing of legal proceedings, which was banned by Julian, but this feature is also common to other hagiographical texts (see Barnes 2010, 58). Eusignius (in Chapter 4) asks for an accurate recording of the trial involving a relative of his, the deacon Eustochius of Antioch (Devos 1982, 215–216), a character whose name would appear to have been carefully chosen by the hagiography. The Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire lists as Eustochius 2 the Souda’s Eustochius, the author of a work on Constantius II and of an Early History of Cappadocia and Other Nations, and as Eustochius 5 the addressee of Gregory of Nazianzus’ letters 189–191 and of Julian’s letter 41 (Jones 1971, 313). Métivier and Fatti instead follow Hauser-Meury’s Prosopographie zu den Schriften Gregors von Nazianz in assuming that we are actually dealing with one and the same character (Hauser-Meury 1960, 79; Métivier 2005, 331; Fatti 2009a, 258). Whether correct or not, this hypothesis may even have been formulated by the author of the passion of Eusignius in choosing to give the same name to one of his characters. Indeed, no Eustochius is listed in the Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit for the years 641–867: so Eusignius’ hagiographer may have consciously chosen a rare and unusual name – that of the Cappadocian historian who was a contemporary of Julian’s, or of Gregory of Nazianzus’ correspondent (whom he may have regarded as the same man) – for the character who in Caesarea is entrusted by Eusignius with transmitting the account of his martyrdom to posterity (it is worth noting that we have a Latin passion – BHL 2775 – of St Eustochia, or Eustochius, a martyr in Tarsus sub Iuliano, derived from an original Greek text now lost: see Chapter VIII).

Telescoping Julian and Constantine  175 Another element which suggests that the author of the passion of Eusignius BHG 638 was quite widely read is his mention of a Roman senator by the name of Crispus, who suggests that Constantius Chlorus despatch some protectores to the East in order to find an adoptive son (Klien-Paweletz 2002, 173–174): this name can hardly be a random choice, since it is also that of Constantine’s firstborn. 96 Guidi (1907, 308). The beginning, with the corresponding passage, is missing in the Opitz-vita, but from the rest of the text it is quite clear that Constantine’s birth was recounted in the same terms. In one fragment, the child Constantine and his mother are brought before Constantius Chlorus, who thus sees for the first time the son he has had with Helen out of wedlock (see Halkin 1960a, 11 n. 4). 97 Guidi (1907, 309–311). 98 In one of the Opitz-vita’s opening passages, describing the moment in which the young Constantine and Helen reach his father Constantius’ court, mention is made of the emperor’s children – Dalmatius, Hannibalianus, Constantius, and Constantia – and of their mother, who is explicitly presented as Constantius’ lawful wife (Halkin 1960a, 12). Moreover, towards the end of the Opitz-vita Dalmatius is correctly presented as the son of a brother of Constantine’s (Opitz 1934, 589), which is to say of Dalmatius, who was Constantine’s half-brother. 99 The Guidi-vita mentions the name (Theodora) of Constantius Chlorus’ wife, adding that she was the daughter of Emperor Maximian Herculius, and that none of Theodora’s children “was deemed worthy of inheriting the pagan empire” (Guidi 1907, 312; English transl. from the Italian). Furthermore, towards the end of the Guidi-vita mention is made of rumours according to which Constantine was poisoned by his half-brother Hannibalianus, the son of Constantius Chlorus and Theodora (Guidi 1907, 654). 100 Devos (1982, 219), Klien-Paweletz (2002, 172). Lieu (1998, 159) had already noted that the Halkin-vita BHG 365n and the Passio Eusignii introduce the figure of a mentally ill son of Constantius Chlorus’, without attempting to account for this different tradition. 101 Bernardi (1983, 154, and 156). 102 Bidez (1960, 191). 103 Kazhdan (1987, 213–214). Mango (1994, 148) embraces this theory. 104 See Kazhdan (1987, 229). Moreover, the passion of Eusignius differs from most legends about the first Christian emperor insofar as it does not mention Constantine’s expedition against Rome, but rather a war he waged on Byzantium and during which he saw Christ’s Cross, at a time when he was not yet emperor. Constantine then had a second vision of the Cross as a throng of barbarians was approaching the “Dounabis”, which is to say the river Danube – here referred to using a term deriving from a Slavic language, according to Kazhdan (1987, 227). 105 Coen (1881, 296). 106 The whole episode of the Persian war in the legend of Constantine is fictional (according to Wesselofsky 1885, 143, it is “comme une scène de roman grec dans le genre d’Achille Tatius”). Indeed, the presence or absence of this war is one of the elements on the basis of which the historical reliability of medieval lives of Constantine can be assessed, according to Lieu (1998, 176 n. 132): “The story is not found in the more ‘historical’ Opitz-vita” (see also Lieu 1998, 167–169 and 2006, 313–317). According to Kazhdan (1987, 235) the cries of joy uttered when Constantine is released are biblical allusions (to Psalms 71:18, 76:14–15, and 85:10, and Job 5:9). The De Caerimoniis attests to celebrations of this kind during a triumphal ceremony held in 956 after a victory against the Arabs

176  Telescoping Julian and Constantine (McCormick 1990, 164 notes that Psalm 76 was “associated with some of the great feasts of the Constantinopolitan ecclesiastical calendar”). Kazhdan (1987, 248) hypothesises that the enigmatic episode of Constantine’s imprisonment by the Persians – for which no parallels are to be found (see also Kazhdan 1999, 134) – is an echo of the civil war between Constantine V Copronymus and Artavasdos, in accordance with his tendency to explain various elements of the legend of Constantine on the basis of comparisons with Constantine V; however, see Magdalino (2007, 17–20), according to whom there is no “evidence that Constantine V explicitly identified with Constantine the great”. On the parallels between Constantine I and Constantine V, see n. 83. 107 According to Lieu (1998, 143 n. 13), when writing life of Constantine BHG 369 Nicephorus Gregoras consciously corrected this mistake by setting the episode after the war against Maxentius. Constantine’s fictional war against the Persians is also mentioned in Pseudo-Symeon’s chronicle (Halkin 1959–1960, 18), where it is chronologically set in the period between Maxentius’ defeat and the final triumph over Licinius. 1 08 Devos (1982, 22). 109 For example, Coleman (1914, 122) wrote: But these stories and others equally fanciful take us beyond the borderline of legends into the realm of pure romance. In many of them the use of Constantine’s name, rather than that of any other notable, seems merely accidental; it is only the device of the story-teller to add interest to his tale. 110 For example, in a military treatise by Emperor Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus, written after 952, we find a list with the late-antique emperors Constantine, Constantius II, Julian, and Theodosius: the first of these is lavished with praise, while his nephew is referred to as “the most impious Julian” (Haldon 1990, 96; on p. 52 the dating). Similarly, Chapter 8 of the life of Gregory of Nazianzus BHG 723, attributed to the presbyter Gregory, draws a contrast between the “tyrant […] hostile to Christ” and the “virtue of Constantine the Great” ­(Lequeux 2001, 144). 111 Even the figure of the saint is not confined within the topoi associated with martyrs but acquires the traits of the wise elderly advisor who, using the rough language of the people, attempts in vain to persuade the improvident sovereign not to rush headlong into disaster. Moreover, Eusignius is characterised by the use of a language that includes frequent Latinisms, as already noted by Lambeck, who in his commentary dwells on various words of this kind (Lambeck 1782, 231 n. 2, 234 n. 3 and 4, and 235 n. 2). 112 See Lauritzen (2013, 350–352). 113 See Chapter V. 114 According to Heseler (1930–1932, 322), followed by Beck (1959, 509), redaction B of the Guidi-vita is the original one and is posterior to Theophanes, which means that it was written no earlier than the first quarter of the 9th century. Fusco (1992, 439) – following Winkelmann (1978, 181) – accepts the hypothesis of the existence of several redactions of the Guidi-vita, produced between the 9th and the 11th century. According to Lieu (1996a, 101–102), followed by Van Dam (2011, 27), the Guidi-vita was written in the mid- or late 9th century. 115 Insofar as it draws upon the chronicler George the Monk and other authors, including Philostorgius (see Bleckmann/Stein 2015a, 29–33), in addition to the legend of Constantine, the Opitz-vita also cannot have been composed before the late 9th century (according to Beck 1959, 566 it was written in the 10th century, according to Winkelmann 1978, 182 and Lieu 1996a, 104 between the 10th and 11th century). On the dating of George the Monk’s work, see Afinogenov

Telescoping Julian and Constantine  177

116 117 118 119 1 20 121 122

123 1 24 125

126 127

128

(1999, 437–447 and 2004, 239–246) (suggesting 846–847 for the writing of the first version and “après 871/872” for the publication of the vulgata by George the Monk, which was destined to enjoy considerable success). See Luzzi (1991, 117–121, 1995, 79–89). See also Pratsch (2013, 325). See Lauritzen (2013, 353) on the propagandistic idea of the Macedonian dynasty’s descent from Constantine I; see Markopoulos (2018, 27) on the “Constantinism” displayed by this dynasty from as early as the 9th century. This encomium (published in Luzzi 1995, 79–81) presents certain similarities with a passage from one of the redactions of the legend of Constantine, the socalled Gedeon-vita BHG 364 (see Luzzi 1995, 85). See the analysis of the encomium in Luzzi (1991, 113–124 and 1995, 86–89) concerning Constantine VII’s identification with Constantine I. These are described in Antapodosis I.9–10 and III.32–34 (see Trovato 2020, 84). Kotter (1988, 225). PG 115, 1189A. More generally, Kazhdan (1987, 205) notes that in BHG 172 the Metaphrast expunged the Artemii passio’s anti-imperial rhetoric and that the word “emperor” only appears in respectable contexts, quoting PG 115, 1160C, and 1161A as examples: “The time of the bitter battle that many hagiographers waged against ‘lawless and impious’ emperors, i.e. the Iconoclasts, was over”. Actually, whereas in PG 115, 1160C (in the first chapter) the word is applied to God, in PG 115, 1161A (again in the first chapter) the word refers to emperors before Constantine. In Artemii passio 45 Artemius claims to have taken part in the battle against Maxentius (Kotter 1988, 227–228), as he does in Chapter 29 of the Metaphrast’s text (PG 115, 1192–1193). See Chapter V. No source describes the Metaphrast as active under Constantine VII, according to Høgel (2002, 80; who on p. 79 regards the Metaphrast’s identification with the Symeon who Liutprand met in 968 as likely and on p. 81 rejects his identification with the chronicler Logothete); in any case, Porphyrogenitus’ descendants were lawful basileis at the time when the Metaphrast’s menologion was composed. Eusignius’ feast day is 10 August, and the Metaphrastic menologion breaks off before the summer season (see Høgel 2002, 115–120 and 2014, 187–188). In codex Vat. gr. 1671 (containing redaction BHG 639), a 10th- or 11th-­c entury reader expressed his shock at the claim that Helen was a prostitute (see Winkelmann 1970, 282): a sign that, after the 10th century, the legend was no longer well-received by the public. According to Heydenreich (1894, 101 and 1894/1895, 154), one of the reasons for this was the popular chronicler George the Monk’s silence about Constantine’s birth – silence that is easily explained: “Den christlichen Theologen war diese Nachricht allerdings ein Dorn im Auge” (Heydenreich 1894, 97). In the Imperial Menologion (BHG 640e), for instance, it is Julian who denounces St Helen’s lowly origins, but in this case as well any word possibly hinting that she was a prostitute is omitted (Latyšev 1912, 249), perhaps through the influence of Chapter 25 of the Metaphrastean passion of Artemius (PG 115, 1189) or of Chapter 41 of the Artemii passio (Kotter 1988, 225). See Chapter VIII for further details.

VIII Julian in Byzantine liturgical books, a synthesis of the early medieval Byzantine hagiographical tradition

VIII.1  The Constantinopolitan Synaxarion The Constantinopolitan Synaxarion is a liturgical book devoted to the Byzantine rite,1 which for each day provides a succinct summary of the life of the saint who is being celebrated. A witness to Byzantine culture and compendium of the earlier hagiographical tradition, unlike the more uniform Roman Martyrology,2 it is a text that is not fixed but open to change.3 In the recension published as the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion4 we find information about several martyrs from Julian’s reign,5 in addition to summaries of otherwise unknown passions (such as those of Melasippus and Antony).6 Apart from the generic epithet tyrannos, in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion Julian’s name is always accompanied (except in three cases) by a noun denouncing his impiety. The most common is parabates, which occurs 36 times, followed by apostates (seven times) and other epithets.7 Only the iconoclasts Leo III the Isaurian and Leo V the Armenian outdo Julian in terms of the number and variety of insults used.8 Significantly, Leo V is described as the “new parabates” and various epithets are shared by the two emperors, who are also referred to using colourful labels such as “impious, stinking pig” (Julian) and “the Antichrist’s forerunner” (Leo V). The synaxarion thus presents Julian as an apostate and persecutor – the highest level of impiety – and the epithets used for him are antithetical to those by which Orthodox emperors are mentioned in the same text.9 However, we also find an echo of the initially favourable reaction to ­Julian’s rise to power among the Orthodox: in the entry on Archbishop Cyril of Jerusalem we read that he was able to return from the exile into which he had been sent by Constantius II precisely thanks to Julian, who was eager to earn everyone’s support.10 No insults accompany the emperor in this entry, which presents him only as an enemy of the Homoean Church:11 the compiler does not mention his anti-Christian policy. The kind of detached and neutral tone used in the entry on Cyril of Jerusalem also marks that on Eusebius, the Bishop of Samosata, who – after the reigns of Constantius II and Julian (presented without any adjectives) – is said to have been exiled by the Arian Valens.12 In this case, too, it is evident

DOI: 10.4324/9781003179818-8

Julian in Byzantine liturgical books  179 that, through an echo of the anti-Arian struggle, the enemy is the heretical sovereign: the Apostate, by contrast, is neither condemned nor insulted.13 Another entry (deriving from Theodoret H.E. III.14) which does not mention any violent persecutions concerns an anonymous confessor who, as the son of a pagan priest, was forced to flee his home. The epithet apostates and the advice given to the young man to “escape from the clutches of the impious sovereign” are the only signs of hostility towards the emperor.14 Theodoret (H.E. III.19)15 is also the source of the information about Publia, who, during the sojourn of Julian (called parabates) in Antioch, sings Psalms 134:15 and 134:18 (against idol worship) with a choir of maidens. When attempts to persuade him fail, the “utterly mad” emperor (a typical definition used for persecutors in hagiographical literature) orders that the young woman be struck in the face, making her bleed. The compiler of the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion describes the saint as a martyr in her intentions and – with an interpretation akin to that provided by Gregory of Nazianzus (or. 5.9) – adds to Theodoret’s data the information that the emperor postponed Publia’s execution until his return from Persia.16 This tendentious addition to Theodoret’s narrative lends Publia the status of a martyr in her intentions, yet is not accompanied by any mention of a general persecution. Theodoret is also the origin of the entry on St Julian Sabas, which recalls his vision of the death of the Apostate, described as an “impure and stinking pig”.17 This entry, like all others from the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion presented so far, makes no mention of any persecution launched by the emperor, who is instead described in far more negative terms in the remaining entries. These can be divided into two groups: in the first, Julian appears as a chronological point of reference, and those responsible for the saint’s death are the “Hellenes” or provincial governors; in the second group, the Apostate himself is instead cast as the executioner, often according to the most common topoi of epic passions. The saints falling into the first group are Macedonius, Theodoulos, ­Tatian,18 Eusebius, Nestabus, and Zeno,19 Dorotheus (with regard to whom the synaxarion explicitly notes that Julian persecuted the Christians in secret),20 Mark of Arethusa and Cyril of Heliopolis,21 Aemilianus22 and Abudemius. Abudemius is commemorated as a martyr from Julian’s reign in only one recension of the synaxarion,23 whereas the entries on this saint in other recensions assign him to Diocletian’s reign.24 The rubric of the recension which places him under Julian reads “Abudemius, Julian’s shepherd”.25 The saint was therefore possibly presented as a shepherd in the service of someone named Julian, whom the hagiographer – or a compiler of the ­synaxarion – later identified as the emperor of the same name.26 The entries on Porphyrios the Mime and that on Theodoret of Antioch, found in one redaction of the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion, fall halfway between the first and the second group. The latter entry displays numerous elements typical of epic passions (including tortures, miraculous

180  Julian in Byzantine liturgical books conversions of executioners, and the saint’s prophecy about the persecutor’s death). However, the saint is set in contrast to a torturer who is not the Apostate, but rather his uncle, the comes Orientis Julian,27 also an apostate and former lector like his nephew.28 The entries on saints from the second group are for the most part replete with references to terrible torments, albeit confined within the limited space afforded by these summaries. One exception is represented by the entries on Eusignius,29 Eupsychius, and Timothy of Prusa:30 the text only recalls their beheading, without any mention of tortures, although in the entry on Eupsychius we read that the Apostate, called parabates, inflicted a serious blow on the Christians through the seizure of their properties and other punishments.31 Theodore, a confessor in Antioch, was released by Julian after various torments extensively described by the compiler of the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion,32 who pays much closer attention to tortures than 5th-century Church historians.33 These detailed descriptions of tortures are another sign of the process of Julian’s transformation in the hagiographical literature. The same happens to Eugene and Macarius, who undergo torture but miraculously suffer no harm and are then exiled to Mauretania, where they die peacefully.34 The other saints instead all die from various forms of torture. Dometius – by contrast to what we read in passion BHG 560 (where the emperor does not have him executed) – is stoned to death on the orders of Julian, who is enraged that the saint has converted many pagans.35 Juventinus and Maximinus are mentioned by the synaxarion’s compiler with reference to John Chrysostom’s encomium (CPG 4349), but with additional details compared to the information provided there. For example, before being beheaded, the two saints undergo a series of basanoi: in the context of the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion this word conveys the idea of numerous tortures ordered by Julian (something which does not transpire from Chrysostom’s oration).36 It is only in Theodoret H.E. III.15.7 that we read of tortures inflicted on the two saints by Julian. Therefore, in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion Julian is presented as inflicting numerous tortures on the two saints and only ordering their execution at the end, whereas Theodoret and the lost passion which he drew upon, according to Franchi de’ Cavalieri,37 connect the torments to the execution. However, there is one detail that only occurs in the synaxarion: the mention of the esteem that Julian felt for the two saints before they were reported to the authorities.38 The compiler of the synaxarion therefore either summed up a passion very similar to that known to Theodore,39 or applied to the military saints Juventinus and Maximinus information that the hagiographical tradition transmitted about well-known military saints such as Sergius and Bacchus, or else personally invented this information. Be that as it may, this detail further brings out the Apostate’s ruthlessness in dealing with soldiers known to him for their valour.40

Julian in Byzantine liturgical books  181 With regard to Artemius as well, the synaxarion’s compiler describes various tortures,41 as he does in relation to Judas Cyriacus and the latter’s mother Anne.42 When it comes to Antony and his parents, Melasippus and Cassina, the summaries provided in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion and in the Menologion of Basil II are the only surviving traces of a fictional passion that is now lost.43 Antony’s parents are horribly mutilated, and even their 13-yearold son is forced to undergo torture after he spits in Julian’s face. This information is followed by other grisly descriptions of torments, yet without any mention of the Apostate, since the role of the villain is taken up by the governor Agrippinus.44 Another fictional passion only known to us from the synaxarion’s summary is that of Elpidius (presented as a distinguished senator), Eustochius, Marcellus, and other martyrs sub Iuliano.45 Elpidius undergoes all kinds of torture: for example, he is forced to wear a vest made of iron blades and to drink things like salt, sulphur, and bitumen.46 The saints are sentenced to be drawn and quartered, but remain unscathed, so the order is then given to torture them with fire; Elpidius alone miraculously comes back to life and is again subjected to savage acts of torture by the “bloodthirsty” Julian. In the end, Elpidius denounces the emperor’s apostasy and a raging Julian has him burned alive.47 The tale of Gemellus (the protagonist of a fictional passion only known from the summaries included in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion and in the Menologion of Basil II)48 is similar to that of Elpidius, except for the opening part, where the hagiographer may have drawn upon the story of Bishop Maris, who publicly insulted Julian. In the synaxarion, however, ­Julian’s reaction is very different from the tolerant one recorded by Church historians in relation to Maris. A whole range of incredible tortures begins: The saint is forced to wear a belt of red-hot iron and a blazing fire is started […] he is pierced with burning irons, hung, and stretched out […] he is cast into a cauldron of boiling oil, resin, and fat, lit from below, and is struck from above with canes fitted with iron hooks […] nails are driven into his head, even touching his brain […] he is flayed from his feet to his shoulder – a ghastly and unusual spectacle. The saint has been skinned alive, yet can still move and speak, since he performs other miracles, before dying on a cross.49 Gemellus’ hagiographer seems keen to surpass all his predecessors in the description of unlikely tortures by presenting Julian as an executioner with an unparalleled imagination.50 Basil of Ancyra is featured under two different dates in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion. The older of his passions’ two redactions known to us is summed up in the 22 March entry of the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion,51 whereas the more recent redaction serves as the basis for the 1 (or 2) January

182  Julian in Byzantine liturgical books entry in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion and for the information in the Menologion of Basil II.52 These latter texts mention various forms of tortures that lead to the saint’s death. The saints Manuel, Sabel, and Ishmael are the focus of a lengthy entry that includes plenty of descriptions of tortures ordered by the emperor, who in the end is struck down by the divine will.53 The entry for Patermutius, Copres, and Alexander in a redaction of the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion (a summary of Passion BHG 1429 or a similar one now lost) features various elements typical of epic passions: in addition to the tortures inflicted on the saints, we find the sudden conversion of a soldier (Alexander), who meets the same fate as Patermutius and Copres. The synaxarion entry also records the term “Julianist”, by which Copres describes himself when he temporarily embraces apostasy after yielding to Julian’s pressure.54 The Julian portrayed in many pages of the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion is therefore a persecutor, torturer, and executioner. However, one entry (the only witness to a hagiographical text now lost)55 presents a strange treatment of this persecution. A soldier by the name of John, along with other Christians, pretends to carry out the orders given by the emperor, while actually enabling his co-religionists to escape.56 This John is reminiscent of the figure of Jovian in the first Syriac Romance, also a simulator and protector of Christians (see Chapter VI). However, in the Syriac Romance Jovian is a powerful dignitary, whereas John is a humble soldier. In any case, this entry in the synaxarion confirms, from a different angle, the portrait of Julian as a violent and ruthless persecutor transmitted by a large number of Byzantine hagiographical works.

VIII.2  The Menologion of Basil II An echo of the initially non-hostile Orthodox reaction to the Apostate’s rise to power is also detectable in the Menologion of Basil II: the first part of the entry on Cyril of Jerusalem is essentially identical to that in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion, because all the exiles, including Cyril, are called back by Julian, who is eager to please everyone.57 Other entries are also essentially identical to those of the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion.58 At times the entries in the Menologion of Basil II are more succinct,59 while in certain cases they either add or omit information compared to the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion. For example, the entry on Publia does not state that Julian will wait until his return from Persia before sentencing her to death, which is instead what a redaction of the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion states.60 By contrast, the entry on Melasippus, Antony, and Carina in the Menologion of Basil II would appear to directly derive from a passion now lost, since it contains the detail – not found in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion – of Antony kissing his parents’ amputated limbs.61 Without this lost passion, it is difficult to explain this divergence: perhaps in this case

Julian in Byzantine liturgical books  183 the compiler of the Menologion of Basil II chose not to gloss over a detail that the compiler of the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion had instead omitted, or we may be dealing with the summaries of two different passions of Melasippus, Antony, and Carina. The entry on Dometius the Persian presents certain similarities to the first of the two entries on this saint in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion, although in the menologion Julian orders the saint’s death not because he learns that many pagans have been baptised by Dometius, as we read in the synaxarion,62 but rather because of some unspecified aid he has brought to many visitors.63 The same conclusion can be reached with regard to the entries on Eugene and Macarius. The Constantinopolitan Synaxarion generically states that they criticised the emperor’s impiety,64 whereas the menologion explicitly quotes the insult.65 However, the two entries do not differ significantly, meaning that they may be providing different summaries of the same hagiographical text.66 With regard to Eupsychius, the menologion does not mention that the martyr had just married (a detail present in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion).67 But, compared to the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion, it adds that Julian ordered the saint to be tortured: another example of the process of the Apostate’s transformation into a violent, cruel persecutor, a process parallel to Eupsychius’ metamorphosis into a saint similar to those praised in the epic passions.68 Likewise, Porphyrios the Mime, who in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion is not presented as a victim of torture,69 is tortured and beheaded on Julian’s orders in the Menologion of Basil II after having rebuked the emperor for his apostasy.70 The entry on Aemilianus is essentially identical to that found in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion, except for one detail: in the menologion, Aemilianus turns himself in after witnessing the arrest of an innocent farmer,71 whereas in the synaxarion the arrest involves an unspecified number of people. Since the passions (BHG 33, BHG33a, and BHG 33b) and the Imperial Menologion (BHG 33e) also state that a farmer was arrested,72 the compiler of the Menologion of Basil II may have consciously altered the entry he was copying from the synaxarion.73 Juventinus and Maximinus as well are essentially presented in the menologion in the same terms as in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion, although the language used is often different.74 The menologion initially describes Eusignius with words similar to those used in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion, but then does not mention that the saint told Julian Constantine’s story (as the synaxarion instead does). Furthermore, in the menologion Eusignius is whipped,75 whereas passions BHG 63976 and BHG 640e77 describe other tortures, suggesting that the menologion entry may derive from a text other than those known. Liturgical books omit the more lurid episodes in Eusignius’ passion: most notably, the passage in which the saint states that Constantine was a prostitute’s son is

184  Julian in Byzantine liturgical books always censored.78 The compiler of the Imperial Menologion BHGB 640e carefully leaves out the debate featured in the original passion, making no references to Helen’s past. Moreover, the whole digression that made up most of the original passion is condensed into a few words devoted to the first Christian emperor’s many victories.79 Julian therefore conforms to the topos of the cruel persecutor, and the complex construction of the passion of Eusignius, with the opposition between the two emperors, disappears. The passions of Gordian and Epimachus, Eubulus and Julian, Dometius the Phrygian, and the 35 martyrs of Caesarea in Palestine – beheaded for having publicly invoked the end of the pagan gods and their worshippers after the proclamation of a persecution edict – are apparently only attested by summaries in the Menologion of Basil II.80 The entry on the 35 martyrs may be inspired by the cult of the better-known eight martyrs of Caesarea, who died under Diocletian.81 The compilers of the Menologion of Basil II thus added an entry presenting Julian as a persecutor modelled after Diocletian, thereby confirming Byzantine hagiography’s tendency to erase the defining traits of the Apostate’s policy. The case of Julian and Eubulus is rather unique, because these two martyrs sub Iuliano are only recorded in the Menologion of Basil II. They are presented as disciples of the Cypriot monk Arcadius who were tortured and then beheaded by the pagans, who took advantage of Julian’s rise to power.82 In other sources Arcadius is the Bishop of Arsinoe, while Hadrian and Eubulus are known as Palestinian martyrs of Diocletian’s persecution.83 Hadrian-Eubulus may have been changed into Julian-Eubulus by mistake,84 and a hagiographer would then have devised a passion to make up for the lack of information about this unknown pair.85 According to the Menologion of Basil II, a Phrygian Dometius was tortured and beheaded after decrying Julian’s apostasy.86 The last part of this entry would appear to be dominated by hagiographical topoi (the saint’s arrest, torturing, invitation to renounce his faith, and beheading), but the first may derive from a genuine Homoean tradition. This entry bears witness to the success of Julian’s policy in leading many Christians to apostasise. Another plausible aspect is the description of the zeal with which the saint denounces the emperor’s apostasy, which recalls that of the Homoean bishop Maris and of Aemilianus. The hagiographer stresses zeal as Dometius’ hallmark: he writes that the saint was “zealous with divine zeal”. Zelos is a fundamental word and concept in the Homoean tradition,87 so Dometius may have been a Homoean saint: a feature that would explain his limited presence in the Greek hagiographical tradition. Some influence from the tradition about the Persian Dometius is also possible, although the tales of the two saints of the same name are very different.88 In one menologion entry, Gordian and Epimachus are tortured and beheaded on the orders of a prefect in an unnamed place.89 Unlike in the Greek passion (BHG 2165), in which the persecutor is Julian, in this entry no mention is made of the Apostate or of figures who play a leading role in

Julian in Byzantine liturgical books  185 that passion (such as Januarius and Gordian’s wife). The only thing the two texts have in common is therefore the saints’ names. All in all, then, the Menologion of Basil II confirms the portrait of Julian we find in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion: he is presented as a persecutor and executioner, but also, at the beginning of his reign, as a benefactor of the Orthodox saints exiled by his predecessor, the Arian Constantius II.

VIII.3  The Imperial Menologion After the Menologion of Basil II, another liturgical book was compiled for an emperor (probably Michael IV) in the 11th century:90 the so-called Imperial Menologion, which has only partly survived and never enjoyed the same popularity as the Metaphrast’s collection.91 Known from two redactions,92 the Imperial Menologion has been described as an encyclopaedic recapitulation of Byzantine hagiography consistent with the stylistic choices of Symeon the Metaphrast, who is consistently used as the primary source.93 Very few martyrs and confessors sub Iuliano are included in the Metaphrastean menologion (Artemius, Hilarion, Nicephorous, and Manuel, Sabel, and Ishmael – in addition to a few references to Athanasius’ life94 and the miracle of St Theodore the Tyro); and, among these, only Nicephorous and Manuel, Sabel, and Ishmael appear in the surviving section of the Imperial Menologion.95 Consequently, almost all the information on saints martyred under Julian in this work are independent of the Metaphrast: the compiler(s) – sometimes quite freely – drew upon texts that, unlike the Metaphrastean ones, were not regarded as immutable. In the redaction known as the series Mosquensis, which has only partially survived, we find passions of the following martyrs sub Iuliano: Aemilianus, Dometius (twice), Dorotheus, Eusignius, Nicephorous, Manuel, Sabel, and Ishmael, and Mark of Arethusa. In the passion of Aemilianus BHG 33e (deriving from a redaction of this saint’s passion close to BHG 33a),96 Julian only appears at the beginning, where he is called “impious” and “Christ-hater”. After a vague reference to a general persecution,97 the role of the persecutor and torturer is left to governor Capitolinus. The two texts on Dometius (BHG 561 and BHG 561a) make Julian’s portrait even gloomier compared to life BHG 560 and the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion, although the use of another text, now lost, cannot be ruled out.98 The compiler of epitome BHG 561 does not begin his account – as in life BHG 560 and the synaxarion – by describing the saint’s life before the Apostate’s rise to power, but immediately introduces the figure of the bloodthirsty tyrant, who is unworthy of being called a basileus. In BHG 560 the hagiographer had already asked whether Julian could be called such,99 but later in the text he repeatedly employs the word basileus. By contrast, in epitome BHG 561 Julian is denied the lawful title of sovereign because of his responsibility in launching a persecution against all Christians.100

186  Julian in Byzantine liturgical books The epitome also recalls – in addition to the profanation of the church in Antioch  – Julian’s Christian past, in such a way as to make him an even more odious figure.101 However, the figure of Julian later falls into the background: for, as in BHG 560, it is Dometius’ enemies who slander him before the emperor and then kill him, without any order by the sovereign. In the other, longer epitome present in the Imperial Menologion, BHG 561a, Julian instead only appears towards the end, after the account of Dometius’ tale, yet with few differences compared to epitome BHG 561. In this case as well, the compiler describes a persecution followed by the profanation of the church in Antioch and believes that Julian should be denied the title of emperor: “When Julian the Transgressor (for it is befitting to call him such on account of his actions) seized power and the whole world was enveloped in darkness, all Christians were persecuted and subjected to harsh punishments”. Then, as in life BHG 560, it is Dometius’ enemies who kill the saint, without any order from the emperor.102 With regard to Dorotheus as well, the Imperial Menologion modifies the previous tradition by darkening the Apostate’s portrayal. In Gregory of Nazianzus’ footsteps, the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion and the Menologion of Basil II describe a shrewd and hypocritical persecution, whereas in epitome BHG 2115 of the Imperial Menologion the persecution is an open one, so much so that the saint avoids death by going into hiding, but is caught in the end and is tortured at length until he dies.103 The passion of Eusignius BHG 640e present in the Imperial Menologion leaves out the lurid details about Constantine’s legendary birth, which are also missing in previous liturgical books, but the Imperial Menologion differs in that it explicitly mentions a persecution.104 This change would appear to be due precisely to the compiler’s faithfulness to the dominant tendency in the Imperial Menologion to present Julian as a persecutor. As already noted by Ehrhard,105 the passion of Manuel, Sabel, and Ishmael BHG 1024e included in the same menologion is de facto a transcription of passion BHG 1024 from the Metaphrastean menologion, with a few omissions. For example, as already mentioned, the Metaphrast initially sets the Apostate in contrast to the pre-Constantinian emperors, who were born pagan and hence find at least some kind of justification, however small, whereas Julian’s actions are utterly unjustifiable. This introduction is omitted and some abridgements and simplifications are made, but on the whole passion BHG 1024e of the Imperial Menologion faithfully follows the Metaphrast and hence preserves the features of an epic passion, with tortures, debates, miracles, and insults hurled at the emperor by the compiler and the saints.106 In the end, Julian dies in Persia, but no mention is made of divine will in relation to the Apostate’s fate.107 Evidently, the compiler of the Imperial Menologion also sought to downplay the Apostate’s (negative) greatness as a rebel against God, just like his Metaphrastean model, which is partly summed up and partly followed verbatim.

Julian in Byzantine liturgical books  187 The tale of Mark of Arethusa is presented in the relevant passion (BHG 2249) of the Imperial Menologion in a very different way compared to previous hagiographical texts. Right from the start, explicit mention is made of a great persecution,108 and later on other topoi of epic passions are introduced (see Chapter V). Likewise, in the passion of Eusebius of Samosata (BHG 2135) present in the Imperial Menologion, Julian is described as an open persecutor.109 As we have seen, the entry on Eusebius of Samosata in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion adopts a very different perspective, since the antagonist in this case is the Arian Valens, just as in the Greek life of Eusebius of Samosata (BHG 2133). The menologion’s compilers would therefore appear to have introduced an innovation by presenting Julian as a cruel persecutor. However, it may also be that they drew upon a life of this saint that is now lost, but which can be reconstructed on the basis of the Syriac life of Eusebius (BHO 294). This life actually comprises two distinct texts translated from the Greek.110 Julian is only featured in the first text, where he appears three times: on two occasions in terms closely reminiscent of the Imperial Menologion.111 Moreover, the first text that makes up the Syriac life of Eusebius of Samosata describes, in Chapter 24, Julian’s death at the hands of “Mar Qorios”, who is dispatched by God in His wrath (see Chapter VI).112 No mention of the legend of St Mercurius is made in the Imperial Menologion, because its compilers, like the Metaphrast, sought to strip Julian’s death of its legendary aura and its (negative) greatness. In any case, as for the other entries, the fictional representation of Julian as a persecutor may be regarded as due to the dominant tendency in the Imperial Menologion. Along with the Imperial Menologion, Julian also appears in the passion of Nicephorous (BHG 1332d). This saint is commemorated as the victim of a persecution launched by “Julian and Gallus”.113 Clearly, this entry is derived from the Metaphrastean passion (BHG 1332), in which “Gallus and Julian” are presented as persecutors more extensively than in the passion (BHG 1332d).114 Another passion (BHG 1763b) of the Imperial Menologion which features Julian as a persecutor is that of St Theodore the Tyro, who, according to tradition, performed a posthumous miracle under Julian’s reign. In the Imperial Menologion, which sums up the Metaphrastean life (BHG 1763), the Apostate is presented in gloomy tones as the devil’s servant and as the person responsible for a general persecution, the most savage of all, as the Metaphrast had already claimed in many hagiographical texts (see chapter III). The compiler of the Imperial Menologion is even more hostile, since he calls Julian Satan’s son.115 However, the Christians’ condition here would not appear to be that of a persecuted community, since after the miracle the emperor yields and the faithful give themselves over to celebrations, with which the narrative ends.116 Overall, then, the information about Julian in the Imperial Menologion is quite consistent: apart from the texts on Aemilianus and Manuel, Sabel, and Ishmael, there is explicit talk of a persecution. In fact, as we have seen, even

188  Julian in Byzantine liturgical books in Aemilianus’ case we find a vague reference to a general persecution, and the passion of Manuel, Sabel, and Ishmael features elements typical of epic passions, such as tortures and miracles. One of the Imperial Menologion’s peculiarities is the prayer for the emperor and the Empire that is offered – always in a different form – at the end of each entry.117 Likewise, although each text deals with a different saint, meaning that each tale has its peculiarities, the persecutor is always portrayed in gloomy tones, and this standardisation is extended to Julian. Unlike in the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion and the Menologion of Basil II, which still retain an echo of Orthodoxy’s initially positive reaction to the Apostate’s rise to power, the compiler(s) of the Imperial Menologion harmonised the different entries on martyrs sub Iuliano through the consistent representation of Julian as a persecutor and executioner – just as the various prayers for Emperor Michael IV are consistent in their appeal for good health and prosperity.

Notes 1 The menologion is “the full-scale version of the liturgy: roughly one text per day and the texts given in their full extent (as opposed to the abbreviated versions in the synaxaria and later menaia)”; the synaxarion is “a new type of liturgical hagiographical collection” which “consists of abbreviated lives/martyria (filling from a single line to a page or so) in the order of feast days” and which, unlike menologia, includes all accepted saints (Høgel 2002, 41 and 55). 2 See Delehaye (1898, 451). The Constantinopolitan Synaxarion is “an assemblage of recensions” (Luzzi 2014, 200), each of which should be published separately. There are seven main recensions, labelled S*, D*, F*, B*, C*, M* (the latest recension), and H* (the original recensio, which remains unpublished; it was drafted by Evaristus, a deacon and court librarian in the service of Constantine Porphyrogenitus between 945 and 959). See Luzzi (2014, 197–208). By contrast, according to Odorico 2001, 216, the most ancient recensions are P (represented by cod. Patm. 266) and B*. According to Kazhdan 2006, 233, this compilation reflects the encyclopaedic tendencies of Byzantine scholars in the 10th century. 3 See Odorico (2001, 201). 4 In the absence of critical editions of the individual recensions, one must rely on two editions: the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion (Delehaye 1902, based on a manuscript that represents what may be described as the Byzantine hagiographical vulgate) and the edition of the so-called Menologion of Basil II, which is actually a synaxarion and the ancestor of a rather ancient recension, B* (see Høgel 2002, 128 n. 5; Luzzi 2006b, 169–171 and 2008, 52). 5 Apart from some exceptions such as Gordian and John and Paul (whose Greek passions probably did not circulate much outside of Italy), Barbarus, Phrygian Dometius, and the martyrs of Tiberiopolis, the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion mentions all the saints considered in the present study. 6 The Apostate appears in the entries on saints Macedonius, Porphyrios, Eusebius of Gaza (twice), Dometius (twice), Juventinus and Maximinus, Publia, Dorotheus (twice), Artemius, Cyriacus, an anonymous confessor from Antioch, Antony and Melasippus, Elpidius, the confessor Theodore of Antioch, ­Gemellus, Patermutius and Copres (twice), Eugene and Macarius, Basil of Ancyra (twice), Julian Sabas, Gregory of Nazianzus, Theodoret of Antioch, Cyril the Archbishop of Jerusalem, Mark of Arethusa, Eupsychius, Timothy of

Julian in Byzantine liturgical books  189 Prusa, Manuel, Sabel, and Ismael, Eusebius of Samosata, Abudemius, Aemilianus, John the soldier, and Eusignius. Moreover, the Constantinopolitan Synaxarion commemorates, on 28 October, the holy fathers martyred in Chasma (Delehaye 1902, 170). These saints are the focus of the fanciful passion BHG 1430 (on which see Janin 1963a, 1175), published in Gedeon (1899, 313–318): the protagonists are persecuted by the Arians under Constantius II and locked up in a chasma (narrow place) with a blocked entrance (possibly a vague influence from the passion of the Persian Dometius, on which see Chapter IV); they then miraculously die before the arrival of the soldiers dispatched against them by Julian, who is presented not merely as an apostate but as a persecutor of Christians (Gedeon 1899, 317). The redaction of this passion which has reached us cannot be earlier than the 7th century, since it mentions a theme (the Anatolian) as a territorial division (Gedeon 1899, 318). 7 Dyssebes six times, paranomos five, asebes four, miaros and miarotatos three, atheos, theomises, and misokhristos only once (see Follieri 1972–1973, 347–350). “Apostate” occurs in entries that for the most part seem to be derived from Church historians (e.g. the entries on Juventinus and Maximinus in Delehaye 1902, 122 possibly from Theodoret H.E. III.15.4, on an anonymous confessor in Delehaye 1902, 180 from Theodoret H.E. III.14, the confessor Theodore of Antioch in Delehaye 1902, 253 from Theodoret H.E. III.11, on Julian Sabas in Delehaye 1902, 399 from Historia religiosa II.14 by Theodoret), or from ancient passions (e.g. the entry on Basil of Ancyra in Delehaye 1902, 553 from the first and most ancient redaction of the passion). “Apostate” also appears in one of the two entries on Mark of Arethusa in Delehaye (1902, 565), which – despite the lack of strict similarities – would appear to be connected to Theodoret’s account (H.E. III.7), the source of the passions of Mark BHG 2248 and 2250. In all, or almost all, of these cases, what we have are therefore accounts based on late-antique traditions. This seems to confirm the prevalence of parabates as the main epithet used for Julian in Byzantium from the end of Late Antiquity onwards. 8 Follieri (1972–1973, 351). According to Follieri, this link between Julian and iconoclasm is confirmed by the fact that even Leo V the Armenian is called apostates (Follieri 1972–1973, 349 n. 10) and that the iconoclast patriarch John VII Grammatikos is called paranomos like Julian (Follieri 1972–1973, 352). Julian is also described as a “defender of wickedness”, borrowing military terminology (see Follieri 1972–1973, 349). 9 See Follieri (1972–1973, 347–351). 10 Cyril of Jerusalem is credited as the author of a letter on a vision of the Cross in the Jerusalem sky, also known from a Syriac translation (Coakley 1984, 71–84). 11 Delehaye (1902, 545). The source is Socrates III.1.43 (Hansen 1995a, 191) as far as Julian’s measure is concerned, and Theodoret of Cyrrhus (H.E. II.26–27) as far as the fighting between Orthodox and Arians under Constantius II is concerned. 12 Delehaye (1902, 763). 13 This entry may be based on the life of Eusebius of Samosata BHG 2133, written by a hagiographer who drew upon Theodoret’s Historia ecclesiastica, or at any rate on a text with a similar content. In life BHG 2133 we read, as in the synaxarion, that, after Constantius II and Julian, Valens exiled Eusebius. By contrast, as we shall see, in the 11th-century Imperial Menologion Julian is cast as a persecutor, as is consistent with the tendency displayed by the compiler(s) of this particular menologion. 14 Delehaye (1902, 180–182). 15 See Delehaye (1902, 956, 1940, 444), De Gaiffier (1956, 14–15), Sauget (1968c, 1236), and Brennecke (1988, 145) on Theodoret as the source of the synaxarion’s

190  Julian in Byzantine liturgical books entry. According to Ehrhard (1937, 472 n. 9), there must be an intermediate source between the compiler of the synaxarion and Theodoret. 16 Delehaye (1902, 123). 17 Delehaye (1902, 399). The source is Theodoret’s Historia religiosa II.14 (Canivet/ Leroy-Molinghen 1977, 224; PG 82, 1317A). Another version of Julian Sabas’ utterance is provided by Theodoret H.E. III.24.3 (Parmentier 1998, 203). 18 Delehaye (1902, 39–42) (significantly, this entry is derived from Socrates III.15 and Sozomen V.11). 19 Delehaye (1902, 66 and 69–70). These entries of the synaxarion are derived from Sozomen V.9. According to Brennecke (1988, 148), Sozomen is the source of the passion of Eusebius the Phoenician BHG 2131 (published in Halkin 1966, 338– 342), although this text does not mention under what emperor Eusebius was martyred. The Bollandist Stiltingus (in AASS Sept. VI, 237), Delehaye (1940, 409), and Bardy (1956d, 696–697) do not take a stand on the identity of this mysterious Eusebius the Phoenician. According to Janin (1963b, 1431), Halkin (1966, 337), and Scorza Barcellona (1995, 98 n. 14), this figure may be derived from the splitting of Eusebius of Gaza. Apart from passion BHG 2131 and the entries in liturgical books, there are no attestations of this mysterious Eusebius’ veneration in the late-antique and medieval periods (see Halkin 1966, 336). 20 Delehaye (1902, 124). This detail is lacking in a second entry on the saint found in the synaxarion (Delehaye 1902, 732–733). 21 Delehaye (1902, 564–568). In a recension of the synaxarion, in the 28 May entry on Mark of Arethusa and Cyril of Heliopolis, alongside saints regarded as Julian’s victims we find the name Theodoret of Cyr, a scribal error (see Delehaye 1902, 1001). 22 Delehaye (1902, 827). 23 Delehaye (1902, 821–822). 24 Delehaye (1902, 821–822). In the Menologion of Basil II as well, this saint dies under Diocletian (PG 117, 541). 25 Delehaye (1902, 822). 26 Delehaye (1940, 289) and Proja (1961, 130) take no stance on the issue of Abudemius; Palmieri (1912, 208) does not mention the Julianean variant. Confusion between Diocletian and Julian is also attested by a passion featured in a pre-Metaphrastean Arabic collection (Van Esbroeck 1967, 156). 27 Delehaye (1902, 503–505) (the saint is also mentioned in Delehaye 1902, 661– 662, 679–680, and 689–690). 28 This information about comes Julian is missing both in passion BHG 2425 and in Sozomen, and may be due to conflation of the two Julians: the emperor is mentioned as a lector in passion BHG 2425 (Halkin 1986a, 124; the conflation between the two, however, might be derived from another, lost redaction of the Greek passion). In the case of Porphyrios the Mime as well, neither tortures nor horrific torments are mentioned, nor is Julian (here called parabates) said to have ordered the saint’s execution immediately after his sudden conversion during a performance mocking the new religion (Delehaye 1902, 48; on the theatrical genre of the anti-Christian mime, see Longosz 1993, 164–168). Perhaps the synaxarion’s compiler is summarising a version according to which it is the audience who call for the saint’s immediate execution, as in the passions of other mime saints. Porphyrios’ tale is one of several versions of the legend of a mime’s sudden conversion that were circulating in Late Antiquity (see Ludwig 1997, 349–384 on mimes in Byzantine hagiography). According to Von der Lage (1898, 39–40), these legends about mime saints derive from a tradition about an anonymous mime. According to Weismann (1975, 39–66), the tale of the mime Gelasinus of Heliopolis lies at the origin of the other accounts about mime saints (see also Noret 1984, 708). According to Van de Vorst (1910, 265),

Julian in Byzantine liturgical books  191 the original tradition is the one about St Gelasius. Then there is the legend about a martyr sub Aureliano named Porphyrios the Mime, which is attested not only in liturgical books but also in the Greek passions BHG 1568z and 1569 (whereas no passion of Porphyrios the Mime martyred sub Iuliano has reached us). According to Van de Vorst (1910, 264–269), the most ancient text about the legend of Porphyrios the Mime sub Aureliano is BHG 1568z, and connections are to be found between the legend of the Porphyrios sub Aureliano and that of the Porphyrios sub Iuliano (Van de Vorst had previously denied any such connections in AASS Nov. II, 1, 229). According to Von der Lage (1898, 14), the legend of the Julianean Porphyrios derives from that of the Porphyrios sub Aureliano. According to Delehaye (1940, 398 and 497), Kötting (1963, 620), Sauget (1968b, 1044), Von Stritzky (1999, 428), and Berger (2002, 256), the narratives about the two saints bearing the same name are variants of the same tradition. Ludwig (1997, 377 n. 94) also seems to assume a connection between the two legends. On the contrary, according to Ehrhard (1937, 459 n. 2), the “Martyrien” of the Porphyrios sub Aureliano have nothing to do with the tradition about the Porphyrios sub Iuliano. In AASS Sept. V, 37, the Bollandist Stiltingus sought to defend the existence of a Porphyrios the Mime sub Iuliano, and Berger 2002, 255–256 also seems to believe that the passion of the Porphyrios martyred sub Aureliano is not entirely fictional. 29 Delehaye (1902, 868–870). 30 Delehaye (1902, 709–712) (=Nikas 1973, 256) and 741–743. 31 Delehaye (1902, 593), Compernass (1935, 107), and Westerink (1983, 668). According to Westerink (1983, 668) (like the Bollandists in AASS Nov. II, 2, 496 and De Gaiffier 1956, 12), this text derives from Sozomen. According to Fedwick (1979, 14 n. 7), the synaxarion’s entry is plausible. Other hypotheses have been put forward, since a passion of the Julianean Eupsychius does not exist (or has been lost), whereas a Greek passion (BHG 2130) has been transmitted about one Eupsychius of Caesarea martyred under Hadrian (this is a fanciful epic passion, according to Halkin 1984, 197); it is summed up in another entry of the synaxarion (most recently published by Westerink 1983, 672–673). The Bollandist Stiltingus believed that two saints by the name of Eupsychius had existed (AASS Sept. III, 7–8). Bardy (1956c, 696) and Burchi (1964, 237–238) take no stand on the matter. According to Tillemont (1732b, 373) a single Eupsychius of Caesarea was split into two separate figures, a theory also embraced by Delehaye (1902, 947 and 1004, 1940, 131 and 384), Aubert (1960c, 1420), and Westerink (1983, 674–675). Westerink’s hypothesis is followed by Métivier (2005, 311) and quoted by Paschalidis (1999, 186), who on p. 187 questions the identification of the martyr with the Eupsychius who is the addressee of letter CPG 2163, which was traditionally attributed to Athanasius, but has been recorded in Supplementum CPG 5655 as written by Atticus of Constantinople (406–425), and therefore dates from a different period. According to Brennecke (1988, 150–151), Eupsychius was a member of the Homoean Church, and Basil, who had opposed Eupsychius during the latter’s lifetime, promoted the veneration of this saint after his death. In a minor text (scr. 41 published by Westerink 1968, 298–310), Aretas claims that Eupsychius was also a priest (Westerink 1968, 300), a piece of information that is not echoed by any other sources – as already noted by Compernass (1935, 107), who posited a written source, reinforced by an oral tradition. Aretas drew upon a lost passion according to Halkin (1973b, 414), followed by Gain (1985, 221 n. 292). By contrast, according to Westerink (1972, 200 and 1983, 667), Aretas – who, apart from Sozomen, is the only non-­l iturgical source about Eupsychius – is wrong in regarding Eupsychius as a priest, and confuses him with Basil of Ancyra. According to Fatti (2009a, 261–262 and 2009b), Eupsychius was one of Basil’s main opponents and

192  Julian in Byzantine liturgical books a supporter of the newly-elected Bishop of Caesarea Eusebius in a conflict in which the Apostate de facto sided with Basil against Eusebius. 32 Delehaye (1902, 254–256). 33 Socrates III.19.6 (Hansen 1995a, 214), Sozomen V.20.2 (Bidez 1960, 226) and Theodoret H.E. III.11.2 (Parmentier 1998, 187), while mentioning the tortures inflicted on Theodore, do not dwell on them at length, in contrast to the synaxarion’s compiler. 34 Delehaye (1902, 330–331). 35 Delehaye (1902, 104). The saint also appears in another entry (Delehaye 1902, 869–871). 36 Delehaye (1902, 122). 37 Parmentier (1998, 194). See Franchi de’ Cavalieri (1953, 198), according to whom, in describing these tortures in relation to the death sentence (rather than Julian’s attempts to lead the saints into apostasy), Theodoret is epitomising his source. 38 Delehaye (1902, 121). 39 In the passio antiquior of Sergius and Bacchus BHG 1624, we read that the saints were esteemed by the emperor (Van den Gheyn 1895, 376). 40 It is noteworthy that Julian is called apostates twice, first when presenting his anti-Christian policy and then by the saints at a banquet (Delehaye 1902, 122). The epithet derives from Theodoret H.E. III.15.4 (Parmentier 1998, 193), which here appears to be the synaxarion’s main source. 41 Delehaye (1902, 151). 42 Delehaye (1902, 171). 43 See Tillemont (1732b, 380), Delehaye (1940, 502), De Gaiffier (1956, 26), Sauget (1967b, 290–291), and Foss (1977, 41 n. 46). 44 Delehaye (1902, 201–202). See Foss (1977, 41 n. 46): “In this case, it seems evident that martyrs about whom nothing was known were arbitrarily assigned to the imagined persecution of Julian. The presence of Agrippinus, a notorious persecutor at Ankara under Diocletian, shows the vagueness of the tradition”. 45 Scepticism about the lost passion’s reliability is voiced by Delehaye (1940, 526), Bardy (1956a, 31), Van Doren (1963, 294); and Amore (1964b, 1151). See Kazhdan (1996, 504–505) on the similarities between Elpidius and the Elpidiphorus mentioned in another entry of the synaxarion (Delehaye 1902, 187–190), a martyr under the Persian Sapor II and hence a contemporary of Julian’s: it is possible that a saint martyred during Sapor’s persecutions was split into two different figures (see also the passion of Acyndinus, Pegasius, Anempodistus, Aphthoniusm, and Elpidiphorus BHG 21–23, in which the hagiographers indulge in the description of tortures). On Elpidiphorus: Lucchesi (1964a, 1146). There may be a connection between the martyr Elpidius and the confessor Elpidis of the first Syriac Romance (Gollancz 1928, 128–130), who is spared, however (see Drijvers 2011b, 149 with other comparisons). 46 Delehaye (1902, 226). 47 Delehaye (1902, 228). The compiler of the synaxarion employs the verb steliteuo, which reflects the influence of Gregory of Nazianzus, who uses it at the very end of his second invective (Bernardi 1983, 380; see Lugaresi 1993, 217–218 on the meaning of the verb and the title of Gregory’s invectives: steliteutikoi logoi). Gregory’s influence is also confirmed by the use of the word apostates, whereas at the beginning of the entry the term parabates occurs. 48 According to Delehaye (1940, 576), the “Acta” serving as the basis of the entries in the synaxarion and the Menologion of Basil II are completely fictional (see also De Gaiffier 1956, 27, Dubois 1956b, 1809, Sauget 1965a, 96–97, Foss 1977, 41, and Aubert 1984, 331). This saint was venerated in Galatia (see Delehaye 1933a, 156, Foss 1977, 41 and Aubert, 1984, 331).

Julian in Byzantine liturgical books  193 49 Delehaye (1902, 295–298). 50 Only in the Latin passion of St Eustochia (or Eustochius) BHL 2775, a virgin martyr from Tarsus, do we arguably find the same level of violence: Julian orders the saint to be scalped and then – after further tortures – disembowelled and cooked in a pan (AASS Nov. I, 531). The passion’s editor, Van Hooff, believes it is the translation of a reliable Greek text (AASS Nov. I, 525–530), a claim disputed by Delehaye (1940, 492) and Gordini (1964, 307). 51 Delehaye (1902, 551–556). 52 Delehaye (1902, 365–366; PG 117, 237). 53 Delehaye (1902, 753–754). 54 Delehaye (1902, 807–810). 55 Delehaye (1935, 240) (who is sceptical about the worth of the lost hagiographical text on John the soldier); (Garitte 1958, 294; Sauget 1965b, 591; Aubert 1997b, 1191). 56 John the soldier is moreover claimed to have helped the poor before dying peacefully (Delehaye 1902, 855–856). Delehaye (1902, 1029) notes that an entry for 12 June (in Delehaye 1902, 748) mentions the saint, yet without providing a summary of his life. 57 PG 117, 357. 58 They concern the following saints: John the soldier (PG 117, 565); Dorotheus (PG 117, 100; this entry is essentially identical to the first of the two synaxarion entries in Delehaye 1902, 124); Artemius (PG 117, 117; the synaxarion entry in Delehaye 1902, 151–153 is a little longer, while the menologion towards the end recalls the tradition about the posthumous miracles performed by the saint after the translation of his remains to Constantinople); Cyril of Heliopolis (PG 117, 377); and Cyriacus (PG 117, 132). The entry on Timothy of Prusa, published in PG 117, 493, represents a rather unique case: this is one of the editions of menaia with synaxaria published in Venice, an edition which – according to prose information we have – is connected to a class of synaxaria, M* (Luzzi 1998, 98), which differs from B*, that represented precisely by the synaxarion known as the Menologion of Basil II. 59 For example, those of Mark of Arethusa (PG 117, 376–377), Melasippus, Antony, and Carina (PG 117, 148), Patermutius and Copres (which nonetheless retains the term “Julianist”, meaning a follower of Julian: PG 117, 532), Gemellus (PG 117, 200, which makes no mention of the saint’s baptism or of the voice from above, but leaps directly from Gemellus’ flaying to his crucifixion), and Publia of Antioch (PG 117, 97). On the depiction of Julian and Publia in an illumination in cod. Vat. Gr. 1613 (containing the winter semester of the Menologion of Basil II): Franchi de’ Cavalieri (1907, 28), Calza (1972, 368), Cohen (1978, 225–226), Guida (1994, 260), and Marasco (2007, 20). 60 Delehaye (1902, 123). 61 PG 117, 148. 62 Delehaye (1902, 104). 63 PG 117, 89. If we assume this aid to have been baptism, then the text itself may have been summed up in different ways in the synaxarion’s two redactions. 64 Delehaye (1902, 331). 65 PG 117, 217. 66 The passions of Eugene and Macarius BHG 2126 and 2127 – which are very similar, as already noted by their editor (Halkin 1986c, 83) – mention Dindona in Mauretania as the two saints’ place of exile (Halkin 1960c, 49 and 1986c, 88), whereas the city is Anthedona in the synaxarion (Delehaye 1902, 331) and in the menologion. According to De Gaiffier (1960, 27), despite this difference, liturgical books depend on the passion of Eugene and Macarius BHG 2126, which in 1960 was the only one to have been published.

194  Julian in Byzantine liturgical books 67 Delehaye (1902, 593). 68 PG 117, 396, Compernass (1935, 107) and Westerink (1983, 668–669). According to Westerink (1983, 669) the reference to Eupsychius’s marriage is omitted, perhaps because it seemed to be of no interest after the loss, in the Synaxarium Constantinopolitanum, of the tragic detail of his recent wedding; the additional elements of imprisonment, torture and refusal to abjure the faith are no doubt prompted by the desire to turn an agitator into a genuine martyr. 69 It may further be hypothesised that by the great miracles (Delehaye 1902, 48) that Porphyrios performed before his beheading we are to understand his miraculous endurance of unprecedented torments. 70 PG 117, 52. 71 PG 117, 548. 72 See, respectively, AASS Iul. IV, 374; Halkin (1987, 226), Halkin (1972, 32), Latyšev (1912, 185). 73 Alternatively, we ought to assume that the entry in the Menologion of Basil II combines several texts, but this seems highly unlikely given that the entry in question is practically identical to that in the synaxarion. 74 See Delehaye (1902, 122 and PG 117, 97). 75 PG 117, 572–573. 76 Latyšev (1915, 83) and Devos (1982, 217–218). This passage also occurs, without any substantial changes, in the passion of Eusignius BHG 638 (Klien-Paweletz 2002, 170) and in the Coptic translation of this Greek passion (Coquin/Lucchesi 1982, 202). 77 Latyšev (1912, 249). 78 In the Imperial Menologion (BHG 640e), for instance, it is Julian who denounces St Helen’s base origins, but in this case as well the compiler leaves out any word which might suggest that she had worked as a prostitute (Latyšev 1912, 249), owing to the influence of Chapter 25 of the Metaphrastean passion of Artemius (in PG 115, 1189) or of Chapter 41 of the Artemii passio (in Kotter 1988, 225). 79 Latyšev (1912, 249). 80 The entry on the 35 martyrs of Caesarea has been published in PG 117, 365 = Delehaye (1902, 557–558). 81 See Delehaye (1902, 997 and 1000). On the eight martyrs of Caesarea: Sauget (1969a, 479–481). 82 PG 117, 344; Delehaye (1902, 519–520). 83 Delehaye (1907, 259) regarded the relationship between these data and the entry on Arcadius, Julian, and Eubulus as a “confusion inextricable”. See also Delehaye (1940, 88). Lucchesi (1965, 1224) finds the relationship established between the two pairs by Delehaye convincing (Delehaye’s hypothesis is also mentioned by Aubert 2003, 498). 84 Delehaye (1902, 996; in col. 997 Delehaye recalls the 35 martyrs of Caesarea as another example of the Diocletianean martyrs’ transformation into Julianean ones). 85 Consider the similar transformations in the tradition about Abudemius and in the Metaphrastean passion of St Nicephorous BHG 1332 (see Chapter III). 86 PG 117, 365 and 573. 87 See Brennecke (1988, 146 and 156). 88 Tillemont (1732b, 744), Assemani (1759, 476), Delehaye (1940, 109), and Van Doren (1960, 635) highlight the differences between the two Dometii (one a Phrygian, the other a Persian) who were venerated as martyrs sub Iuliano. Bertocchi (1964, 746–747) instead does not address the issue of the relationship between the Phrygian Dometius and the Persian one.

Julian in Byzantine liturgical books  195 89 PG 117, 445. 90 See D’Aiuto (2004, 146), D’Aiuto (2018, 55–64). 91 D’Aiuto (2004, 150). 92 D’Aiuto (2012, 299, 2018, 60–61). 93 D’Aiuto (2002, 191). 94 Epitome BHG 183a of the Imperial Menologion faithfully follows the Metaphrastean life of Athanasius BHG 183, albeit with a few omissions. For example, the judgement about Julian in BHG 183a (Chapter 27: Halkin 1985b, 274) is essentially identical to that voiced in the corresponding passage of the Metaphrastean life BHG 183 (PG 25, CCIX). 95 In BHG Auct., however, it is noted that epitome BHG 172m of the passion of Artemius, contained in codex Mediolan. Ambros. B 12 inf. (M.-B. 839), might be that of the Imperial Menologion (see D’Aiuto 2004, 154 and 155 n. 22). 96 See Halkin (1987, 224). 97 Latyšev (1912, 184). 98 See Ehrhard (1939, 354). 99 Van den Gheyn (1900, 313). 100 Latyšev (1911, 275); a slightly different text in Van den Gheyn (1900, 318). 101 Van den Gheyn (1900, 319), Latyšev (1911, 276). 102 Latyšev (1912, 256). 103 Latyšev (1912, 18–19). 104 Latyšev (1912, 248). 105 Ehrhard (1939, 371). 106 Latyšev (1912, 68–71). 107 Latyšev (1912, 72). 108 Latyšev (1911, 293). 109 Latyšev (1912, 88). 110 Devos (1967, 196–197). 111 More precisely, in the first chapter at the beginning of the text (“Satan […] établit sur le sceptre de la royauté des Romains Julien le transgresseur”) as well as in the fourteenth, in relation to the persecuted Church: “toutes les guerres des démons et des hommes mauvais, lesquelles commençaient alors d’être excitées contre elle, à l’exhortation et au commandament de Julien le Transgresseur, qui se montra un cruel persécuteur des chrétiens” (Devos 1967, 203 and 220). 112 “Julien le Transgresseur, c’est-à-dire qui transgressa ses engagements, lui qui descendit en Perse et là sa vie fut tranchée par la colère du ciel, lui sur qui tomba justement la sentence de Dieu, lorsque Mar Qorios le martyr glorieux, un des Quarante martyrs, fut envoyé contre lui et le transperça de sa lance devant toutes ses forces armées” (Devos 1967, 225). 113 Latyšev (1911, 38). 114 Latyšev (1911, 322). 115 Latyšev (1911, 91). 116 Latyšev (1911, 92). 117 See D’Aiuto (2002, 190).

IX Between old stories and new imaginative reconstructions A glance before the decline of Byzantium

IX.1  Symeon Logothete and the tradition of the Epitome In the Byzantine chronicle tradition, an important role was played by a text that is now lost, the so-called Epitome,1 which is believed to have been based on the so-called Leoquelle, a late-antique pagan source also used by Zonaras.2 A first redaction was abridged into the so-called Epitome A, the Chronicon by Symeon Logothete, who was active in the 10th century.3 Chapter 90 of the Chronicon is titled after the Apostate (called parabates) and derives from the second part (90.4–6) of the Epitome of Ecclesiastical Histories (CHAP 593).4 The Logothete recalls the edict forbidding Christians to teach in schools (90.5) and Julian’s trust in oracles before the Persian war (90.6), but the only bloody act mentioned is the execution of the eunuch Eusebius (90.4). In the first part of the chapter it seems possible instead to detect some echoes of the Leoquelle,5 such as the information that Julian was taught by Eusebius, the Bishop of Nicomedia.6 The psycho-physical portrait of Julian (90.1) includes some positive traits (temperance and intellectual versatility), but according to the Logothete or his source, these are spoiled by the emperor’s apostasy and wickedness,7 which manifests itself as follows (in 90.2): Julian opened the coffin of the Forerunner and committed his bodily remains to the fire and scattered the ashes. The wicked sinner also ordered the statue of Christ at Paneas, the one put up by the women with the haemorrhage, to be torn down and taken away, and he put an image of Zeus in the place of the image of Christ. He also burnt the bodies of many saints, not, however, with impunity.8 This passage is followed, in 90.3, by a description of the Persian campaign’s failure and the emperor’s burial at Tarsus. The Epitome Historiae ecclesiasticae and the chronicles of Theophanes and George the Monk are in some respects close to the account provided by the Logothete, which nonetheless stands out on account of certain peculiarities, such as the fact that the statue designed to replace Christ’s in Paneas is a statue of Zeus, but not of Julian

DOI: 10.4324/9781003179818-9

Old stories and new reconstructions  197 9

himself, as in the previous sources. Moreover, according to the Chronicon, “Julian turns in flight and is wounded by a spear”: he does not die in obscure circumstances or through miraculous interventions.10 The Leoquelle has been acknowledged as the Epitome’s source for the description of the Persian war,11 whereas the Logothete would appear to have used a Christian source for the dying emperor’s final utterance (“Be satisfied”).12 The information about his burial in Tarsus may derive either from the Leoquelle or from a source also used by George the Monk, who describes the profanation of John the Baptist’s relics in very similar terms to those used by the Logothete.13 Julian, moreover, appears one last time at the beginning of the section on Jovian (91.1), about whom he delivers a contemptuous verdict: “If only it had been a human!”14 This anecdote, clearly of pagan origin, is also present in the Salmasian John of Antioch (fr. 270 Roberto), in Kedrenos, and in Zonaras. The Logothete therefore provides an echo – however faint – of the Leoquelle and, compared to George the Monk and other chroniclers, his account stands out because of its lack of information about martyrs and, more generally, the little attention he pays to the black legend of Julian. Even the last part of the Chronicon shows no theological interest and gives little room to prodigies,15 so it is possible that Symeon selected material that was consistent with his narrative criteria. Paradoxically, the harshest verdict would appear to be the one delivered in the section about Constantius II: Julian’s proclamation as Caesar is described as an error just as great as the support shown to Arianism,16 so much so that the Logothete seems more concerned with condemning the heretic Constantius II than he is in condemning the Apostate.17

IX.2  The first-degree Epitome B Epitome B is a complete epitome, enriched with supplementary sources, including – for the period after Diocletian – a source known as the Zusatzquelle. Data from this source, such as portrayals of the emperors and information about their tombs, are juxtaposed with that from the Epitome in the so-called first-degree Epitome B and systematically blended with them in the so-called second-degree Epitome B. The first-degree Epitome B thus reflects a concern to provide antiquarian details, through the use of erudite compilations of its day. One piece of information from Epitome A, deriving from the Leoquelle,18 is presented erroneously. In the Logothete’s Chronicon, as in Ammianus Marcellinus (XXI.16.20), Jovian follows the transportation of Constantius II’s body to Constantinople, whereas in the first-degree Epitome B, the name is changed to Julian.19 This confusion may be due not simply to the similarity between the two names, but also to the fact that the Apostate indeed attended his cousin’s funeral in Constantinople, as reported for instance by Gregory of Nazianzus (Or. 5.17). The chronicle mentions the Apostate’s burial in Tarsus

198  Old stories and new reconstructions and the subsequent transfer of his remains into the imperial mausoleum in the Church of the Holy Apostles in Constantinople: he was buried in the tomb of Maximianus, Galerius’ son. He was then taken to Constantinople and buried where Jovian lay buried as well, in a porphyry sarcophagus of cylindrical shape, with Helen, the daughter of Constantine and his wife.20 Other additions and variations in the texts constituting the first-degree Epitome B 21 do not bring about any significant change of perspective compared to the Logothete’s Chronicon, in contrast to a chronicle connected to the tradition of the Epitome probably written in the years 1028–1033.22 All that is mentioned in relation to Julian is his profanation of St John the Baptist’s relics and the destruction of the Jesus statue in Paneas:23 a selection that clearly suggests enmity towards the Apostate.

IX.3  The second-degree Epitome B The second-degree Epitome B is the source of a lost text that can be reconstructed from the chronicles by Pseudo-Symeon24 and Kedrenos, an author active between the late 11th and the early 12th century (see Chapter X). For the years 284–813 Pseudo-Symeon draws upon Theophanes,25 while adding information from the tradition of the Epitome.26 A series of imperial portrayals stands out here. That of Julian, compared to the text of the first-degree Epitome B, adds (from the Leoquelle)27 information about the Apostate’s thirst for glory: “short, with a fine beard and long, smooth hair, exceedingly restrained as far as sleep, food, and sexual pleasures are concerned, most greedy for glory, and wicked in matters of religion”.28 Other additions seem chiefly designed to tarnish the Apostate’s portrayal even further:29 for instance, the comment made on the impossibility of recounting all the tragic events which occurred during Julian’s reign,30 and the information about the collapse of the dome of the “great church”, namely Hagia Sophia (built under Constantine or Constantius II), at the time of Julian’s acclamation as Augustus in Gaul. This legendary tradition31 is combined with the Apostate’s threat to convert Hagia Sophia into a stable upon his victorious return from Persia.32 An even more noteworthy addition, probably deriving from Philostorgius via the Zwillingsquelle,33 concerns Julian’s physician Oribasius, who is said to have received the so-called last Delphi oracle, prophesying paganism’s final defeat.34 Other additions about Julian that are drawn from the Epitome are inserted into the narrative borrowed from Theophanes. For example, the description of the profanation of St John the Baptist’s relics, which corresponds to Chapter 90.2 of the Logothete’s Chronicon, occurs within the account about the miraculous tree in Hermopolis, in the Thebaid, which Theophanes describes in his narrative for Anno Mundi 5854.35 Another example is the description of the Persian war, where

Old stories and new reconstructions  199 Pseudo-Symeon’s narrative, departing from Theophanes, follows the Epitome tradition. More specifically, the text first coincides with Chronicon 90.6 (recounting how pagan oracles promised victory to Julian);36 then, after a section that marks a transition and which would appear to sum up another text by Theophanes, the Apostate’s death is described in very similar terms to the second part of Chapter 90.3 of the Chronicon (mention is even made of the dying emperor’s cry), with the addition of references – drawn from the so-called Zusatzquelle – to Julian’s sepulchre, his wife, and the name of the Bishop of Constantinople during his reign (the Arian Eudoxius).37

IX.4  The Historia syntomos and Psellus Michael Psellus38 is held to be the author of the Historia syntomos, which extends from Romulus to Basil II. This work has attracted considerable interest and has been reputed to be of higher quality than most Byzantine chronicles.39 Generally speaking, rather than juxtaposing data from different sources, Psellus strove to refashion them into a homogeneous work.40 His sources are therefore often difficult to identify.41 The verdict on Julian, in Chapter 57, is very ambiguous, or even surprising, if – as has been hypothesised – it was “a kind of a history text-book for Psellus’ pupil”, the future Emperor Michael VII.42 Julian is initially described as a “thorn in the side of the sweet-smelling rose such as was the pious family of the famous Constantine”. Moreover, the author criticises the emperor’s superstition, gloomy appearance, and excited eyes, which convey haughtiness and contempt,43 with vocabulary partly borrowed from Gregory of Nazianzus’ physical portrayal of Julian.44 Psellus professed himself to be a great admirer of Gregory’s and was well-­ acquainted with his invectives.45 After this opening, however, which confirms scholars’ observations about his ambiguity and dissimulation46 and that is in line with the dominant anti-Julian tendency, Psellus then artfully reverses the perspective. In the Historia syntomos Julian is “devoted to philosophers, being interested in all sorts of knowledge and especially the eccentric”, so much so that he seeks to attain it by resorting to ornithomancy and hieromancy.47 His temperance and love of knowledge are so great that he asks the gods not to be overcome by sleep and dissoluteness: “He cultivated a great discipline as to those natural activities as e.g. eructations, spitting and so on and he used to say that a philosopher should, if possible, not even breathe”.48 Psellus partly derives this information from the Epitome tradition,49 to which he adds an allusion to Gregory in order, paradoxically, the present the Apostate’s temperance in an apparently positive light.50 The Metaphrast and Gregory of Nazianzus are two authors whom Psellus claims to esteem, and the Julian chapter is not the only one in the Historia syntomos to contain allusions to Gregory’s invectives.51 Psellus’ choice not to follow them in their harsh criticism of the Apostate is therefore significant,

200  Old stories and new reconstructions all the more so because in a different work Psellus accuses Patriarch Michael Cerularius of being a new Julian with words clearly borrowed from Gregory.52 Psellus therefore consciously developed the material available to him in a completely different direction from Zonaras, another author following the Epitome tradition while adding a reference to martyrs under Julian (see Chapter X). Without glossing over the Apostate’s paganism, Psellus makes no mention at all of any bloody actions or persecutions against Christians.53 The only allusion to the emperor’s anti-Christian policy occurs in Chapter 58, on Jovian, who is presented as responsible for mass conversions to Christianity which presuppose a previous success on Julian’s part. Compared to his sources, Psellus seems to exaggerate this success: “Julian transferred all the citizens and the whole military force – a few excluded – from Christianity to paganism”.54 The praise of Julian’s love of books, teaching, and knowledge55 also comes across as an act of self-praise.56 Just as the fictional philosophers inhabiting the ancient Byzantium envisaged in Byzantine mirabilia are the outcome of the secularisation of the saint model,57 so the Julian of the Historia syntomos would appear to be a partial pagan transposition of the cultural model that Psellus presents in this work: “a learned emperor” as the ideal sovereign.58 Comparisons with Psellus’ verdict on himself and on other sovereigns bring out even further his ambiguous and nonchalant use of his sources in the Julian chapter. In ep. 202 Psellus declares, just like Julian, that he will never abandon gnosis;59 he also later corrects this statement – probably with little conviction – by claiming that he deems all Hellenic, Chaldaean, and Egyptian knowledge, or even secret gnosis, inferior to the monastic state.60 In another work (Encomium matris) he claims to reject ornithomancy and all the errors of Hellenism, and seems to reject precisely the model of Julian in the Historia syntomos.61 But in this case as well one wonders whether Psellus is being sincere, considering that it is other sovereigns whom he appears to condemn in uncompromising terms. Indeed, another emperor who is an enemy of Orthodoxy, Constantine V Copronymus, is described (in Chapter 89) as “godless”, “one who practised unmentionable vices”, and as an “instrument of the Antichrist”. Finally, Psellus describes the emperor’s painful death with glee.62 Compared to the condemnation of Constantine V, that of the Apostate is even more revealing of Psellus’ consciously moderate attitude: for whereas he adopts the traditional Orthodox view in Copronymus’ case, he departs from it in relation to Julian. This choice seems all the more noteworthy if we consider the fact that the Patriarch of Constantinople, Michael Cerularius, is accused – among other things – of having behaved like the Apostate.63 Here, Psellus alludes not only to Gregory of Nazianzus – as we have seen – but also to the Epitome tradition, and more specifically to the profanation of St John the Baptist’s remains in Chapter 90.2 of Symeon Logothete’s Chronicon.64 Psellus is therefore familiar with the Epitome tradition about the acts of desecration performed under Julian’s reign, but consciously omits them in the

Old stories and new reconstructions  201 Historia syntomos, despite having previously deployed this tradition against Cerularius. Psellus’ attempt to distance himself from the traditional condemnation of Julian is also evident in his presentation of two other emperors who are objects of utmost praise and utmost blame in Julian’s Caesares: Marcus Aurelius and Constantine. Marcus Aurelius is also extolled by Psellus, in Chapter 32 of the Historia syntomos, as the most virtuous of all emperors: despite being a pagan, through his prayers he famously earned a miracle from the heavens that saved his Roman soldiers.65 Psellus is the only Byzantine author to attribute the miracle to Marcus Aurelius, whereas other Byzantine authors either follow the Christianised version of the event already attested by Tertullian, or attribute the miracle to a pagan miracle worker in the emperor’s entourage.66 While apparently positive, Constantine’s portrayal in Chapter 55 is ambiguous. Psellus calls him “the Great” and recalls his baptism, victories, vision of the cross in the sky, and the Council of Nicea; however, upon a more in-depth reading, an ironic counterpart to all this emerges. Psellus alludes to Constantine’s murdering of his own son and wife, which tarnished his reputation, by quoting (or fabricating) the following saying: “an emperor should not spare a single citizen where public affairs are concerned, and certainly not the members of his own family”.67 Scholars have noted the irony with which Psellus quotes or invents notable sayings attributed to emperors. In particular, he is very interested in the problem of justice and of corporal punishment: he attributes sayings on the topic – also addressed in the Chronographia – to various other sovereigns, in addition to Constantine. Psellus appears to endorse moderation in the administration of justice against those, such as Constantine, who prove too harsh.68 These verdicts on Psellus’ part confirm that the reassessment of Julian fits within a view of history that consciously departs from the prevailing Byzantine perspective, while the subtle irony regarding Constantine’s ruthlessness suggests that we should look for hidden meaning even in the aforementioned sayings on the value of asceticism and knowledge attributed to Julian.69 Indeed, Psellus’ attitude to the emperor’s professed desire to break free from bodily necessities seems ambiguous. At first sight, his verdict on this saying – just as in the case of Constantine’s – appears to be positive, but a comparison with the polemic ep. 111 shows that Psellus saw something in Julian of Cerularius, as well as of himself. In 1054 Psellus was forced by the Patriarch to sign a profession of faith confirming his Orthodoxy and to take monastic vows in Bithynia, quitting his court duties.70 A few years later he apparently avenged himself by addressing ep. 111 to Cerularius and writing the Accusatio, in which he explicitly compares the Patriarch to the Apostate on account of his rebellion against the lawful sovereign Michael VI in 1057. Psellus claims to be defending humanity against Cerularius’ rigorism, and in Ep. 111 declares that he is a rational creature with a body, and not a heavenly angel (possibly an

202  Old stories and new reconstructions ironic allusion to the addressee’s condition as a eunuch). He drives the point further: “I would not want [to become like you], if I could, nor could I [do so], if I wanted”,71 asserting – as though to confirm the need for a body – that he is “a man, changeable and fickle, and a rational soul which uses a body”, whereas Cerularius is stable and invariable.72 “Psellus conveys the impression of praising Keroularios while belittling himself”73 in ep. 111 and does so by following the model of Julian’s Misopogon.74 This marks the beginning of a play of mirrors and of allusions to Julian that continues down to the Historia syntomos. Later on, a new political upheaval (the abdication of Isaac I Comnenus and rise to power of Constantine X Doukas) forced Psellus to praise the recently deceased patriarch, with little conviction.75 In Oratio funebris 54, written after his opponent’s death as the second part of an “étonnant diptyque”,76 Psellus praised his detachment from the earthly sphere (constantly and ironically criticised in ep. 111) and praised his virtues, which are such as to deify even those consecrated by him.77 This characterisation of Michael Cerularius – who, as we have seen, had previously been accused of having plotted against Emperor Michael VI, just as the Apostate had plotted against Constantius II – is similar to Julian’s idealised self-portrait in Chapter 20 of Contra Heracleum (226c), a work which was known in Constantinople in the second half of the 10th century (since it is quoted in the Souda lexicon) and therefore, presumably, also in the first half of the following one. In this passage, partly quoted in the Souda (eta 471), Julian argues that we should not concern ourselves with the body, for it is necessary to get out of ourselves in order to know the divine within us.78 Confirming this snide comparison between the Apostate’s asceticism and the Patriarch’s, in Encomium Cerularii 4 Psellus praises the latter’s mother for her contempt of physical beauty with words reminiscent precisely of those Julian uses in Contra Heracleum 226c.79 Psellus’ polemic against this model of ascetic living, considered to be too extreme, also extends to Leo Paraspondylos, Empress Theodora’s protosynkellos.80 This criticism of Paraspondylos, his sternness and abstractness, is connected to the criticism of Cerularius’ and Julian’s asceticism.81 Like Cerularius, Leo Paraspondylos is also the object of an encomium by Psellus, who with subtle irony calls him a “mind resting on a small body”.82 With the same irony, in ep. 206 Psellus describes Leo as one who “does not even seem to have a body”.83 Therefore, even when it comes to the relationship with one’s own body, Psellus champions moderation against excessive sternness, the same approach he adopts towards the administration of justice in the Historia syntomos: “Psellus is always on the side of flexibility, whether it concerns himself or as a general ideal. He detests rigidity and inflexibility”.84 Likewise, he detests the asceticism of the new Julian, Patriarch Cerularius, as is evident from a passage in ep. 214: I am neither completely separated from matter nor completely immersed in it, for I am partly divine while living with a body. And so I do

Old stories and new reconstructions  203 not like to be completely earthbound nor I am convicted by those who compel us to soar beyond nature. It has been my wont to stand or move between extremes. I like the proverb, Avoid extremes. It is my favorite, and I prefer it to other maxims since I am the middle of two opposites, one lower, the other higher.85 Psellus’ Julian therefore acquires new life through the author’s reflection on the relationship between “philosophers” and the religious authorities: in his ascetical rigour and detachment from the body, Julian reminds one of the eunuch Patriarch Michael Cerularius and of the stern Leo Paraspondylos, but in terms of his boundless thirst for knowledge – a feature that Cerularius is accused of lacking86 – he is instead reminiscent of Psellus himself. Unlike authors such as Kedrenos and Zonaras, who – as we shall see – draw upon the pagan stream surfacing from the Leoquelle, but combine it almost mechanically with information about the Apostate’s black legend, Psellus reworks Leoquelle from a partly pro-Julian perspective. Indeed, he goes as far as to paint Julian as a teacher of philosophy, a role to which he himself aspired. This assessment stands out in the Byzantine context, particularly considering the fact that only a few years earlier, in his indictment of Michael Cerularius, Psellus had instrumentally accused the Patriarch of Constantinople of repeating Julian’s negative deeds. Cerularius’ portrayal therefore shows that, paradoxically, an apparently positive aspect of the Apostate from a Byzantine perspective (his ascetic detachment from the body) is actually viewed by Psellus in a negative light. Psellus is a champion of the golden mean, which in his view is embodied by the figure and work of Constantine Leichoudes, who in Oratio funebris 2.8 is depicted as a wise man who makes no show of austerity and asceticism in his mode of dress and eating, even though he does not live in luxury.87 Psellus even keeps to the golden mean when censuring Isaac I Comnenus for his rashness in launching a much-needed reform policy (Chronographia VII.58–62). Significantly, he begins this moderate criticism by calling the emperor a “lover (erastes) of philosophy”,88 just as the Apostate was an erastes of “all sorts of knowledge”,89 which confirms that the “philosophers’ consul” used the past to shed light on the present, and vice-versa. Psellus’ criticism of Leo Paraspondylos has recently been regarded as a disguised criticism of Platonic and Christian ethics, and of the religious aspect of Byzantine politics,90 which he wished to see purged of religious fanaticism, seen as a dangerous element.91 In the Historia syntomos, while praising one of Julian’s qualities (his thirst for knowledge), Psellus describes him as a Cerularius or Paraspondylos on account of his asceticism, thereby apparently suggesting that in their austerity and eagerness to flee the body, these two figures are imitating the Apostate.92 With Psellus, the history of Julian therefore almost seems to turn into contemporary history through a representation that, in its originality and boldness, is unique in Byzantine

204  Old stories and new reconstructions literature. Indeed, Psellus’ pupil Theophylact was soon to revert to the traditional condemnation of the Apostate.

Notes 1 See Serruys (1907, 46–51). 2 See Bleckmann (1992a, 44) on the Leoquelle and the Epitome. 3 See Wahlgren (2019, 1–12) on the text and its author. 4 Chronicon 90.4 from Epitome of Ecclesiastical Histories 122 and 124 with abridgements, 90.5 from Epitome of Ecclesiastical Histories 131 with abridgements, and 90.6 from Epitome of Ecclesiastical Histories 146. 5 See Bleckmann (1992a, 342 n. 57). 6 Wahlgren (2006a, 113). 7 Wahlgren (2006a, 113). According to Bleckmann (1992a, 387), these pieces of information, which are consistent with the description in Ammianus XXV.4, also reflect the influence of the “byzantinische Vulgärtradition”. 8 Wahlgren (2006a, 113, 2019, 86). 9 According to Kosiński (2017, 63), this is “a source common to both Symeon and George, which was based on Theophanes’ work”. 10 Wahlgren (2006a, 113–114; translation in Wahlgren 2019, 87). 11 See Bleckmann (1992a, 375). The Logothete or his source may have misunderstood the Leoquelle, according to which Julian’s death was caused by his rash behaviour: the emperor rushed onto the battlefield without any armour to support an army flank that was about to be routed (see Bleckmann 1992a, 384). 12 See Bleckmann (1992a, 386 n. 233), according to whom this Christian source is related to, yet does not coincide with, the Zwillingsquelle (the source used by both Zonaras and Kedrenos). 13 According to Wahlgren (2006a, 119*), both George the Monk and the Logothete are drawing upon a common source, but the Logothete would appear to be more faithful to it. 14 Wahlgren (2019, 88). 15 See Mango (1988–1989, 371). 16 Wahlgren (2006a, 112). 17 The limited interest in the Apostate shown by the Logothete (by contrast to Symeon the Metaphrast, who is far more vocal in condemning him) would seem to disprove Sotiroudis (1989a, 14), according to whom it is likely that the Metaphrast is the same person as the Chronicon’s Logothete. Høgel (2002, 80–81), Wahlgren (2006a, 3*–4* and 2006b, 245) are sceptical about this identification (particularly Høgel). According to Markopoulos (1983, 279–283) the analogies between the rewriting of the Chronicon in its second redaction and the Metaphrast’s hagiographical rewriting do not constitute conclusive evidence (see also Markopoulos 2004, 5 and Kazhdan 2006, 235). See De Boor (1901, 90) and Van Dieten (1979, 258) concerning other hypotheses about the Chronicon’s origin. 18 See Bleckmann (1992a, 372). 19 Wahlgren (2006a, 112). 20 Wahlgren (2006a, 113–114). 21 For example, mention is made of Valentinian I’s confession of Christian faith under Julian (Wahlgren 2006a, 116). Another addition – in Chapter 90.3 – is the amplification of the dying Julian’s utterance: “You’ve won, Christ”, which is inserted before the words “Have your fill, Nazarene” from the Logothete’s Chronicon (Wahlgren 2006a, 112). It seems difficult to clearly identify the origin of this addition on account of its occurrence in very popular hagiographical texts.

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32

33 34 35 36

For example, “You’ve won, Christ” occurs in the same form in Artemii passio 69 (Kotter 1988, 243) and in the passion of Eusignius BHG 639 (Devos 1982, 227). See Cumont (1894, 14). Külzer (1991, 424–447) analyses the information found in this chronicle (on pp. 430–431 the information on Julian). Cumont (1894, 19). See Cumont (1894, 15) and Külzer (1991, 419) on the milieu in which the chronicle was written. According to Van Dieten (1979), Pseudo-Symeon’s text dates from around the year 1000; Magdalino (2003, 259 n. 103) dates Pseudo-Symeon’s chronicle to the 10th century. See Praechter (1897, 105), Markopoulos (1978, 111 and 1985, 208). A list in Praechter (1897, 56). See Bleckmann (1992a, 387), according to whom the rest of Julian’s portrayal derives from the “byzantinische Vulgärtradition”. Markopoulos (1978, 118). According to Wahlgren (2001, 253) in some cases (e.g. Pseudo-Symeon) what we are dealing with is chronicle material gathered in manuscripts, rather than chronicles written by specific authors. However, at least as far as Julian is concerned, Pseudo-Symeon seems to be an author with a well-defined aim. See Praechter (1897, 55 n. 6). The legend of the dome’s collapse in Julian’s day does not appear in the Patria of Constantinople, which feature a fanciful narrative about the Church of Hagia Sophia written before the 10th century (see Dagron 1984, 191–314, with esp. pp. 211–212 and 270–274 on Hagia Sophia in Kedrenos, and also Brennecke 1988, 102 and Fatti 2009b, 46 n. 103). The legend is also attested in the Halkin-vita of Constantine (in Halkin 1959, 103) and may have been influenced by the memory of damage caused by earthquakes (see Downey 1955, 599–560 on damage in the years 869 and 989; already Justinian had ordered some renovation work after the 557 earthquake). Another analogy between the tradition used in the Halkin-vita and the text by Pseudo-Symeon reused in Kedrenos 306.2 (Praechter 1897, 37 n. 7; Tartaglia 2016, 500; highlights some formal divergences between Pseudo-Symeon and Kedrenos) is the mention in both texts of Euphratas, Constantine’s legendary official. Kedrenos 320.1 (Tartaglia 2016, 530) is de facto identical to Pseudo-Symeon (see Praechter 1897, 52 n. 6). Pseudo-Symeon’s account is connected to the tradition, found in Vita Dometii BHG 560, about the fate of the great church in Antioch, which was converted into a stable (Van den Gheyn 1900, 314): see Fatti (2009a, 159 n. 36 and 2009b, 46 n. 103). Other elements that possibly come into play here are the nickname “Caballinus” assigned to Constantine V – another emperor who was an enemy of Orthodoxy (and who according to Rochow 1994, 132 earned this nickname through his passion for horse races) – and the fame of Patriarch Theophylact (Romanus Lekapenos’ son), who, according to John Skylitzes, had a stable with over 2,000 horses and once interrupted a religious ceremony upon receiving the news that one of his mares was giving birth (Thurn 1973, 243). See Patzig (1897, 334). According to Markopoulos (1985, 209) it instead derives from the Epitome tradition. Markopoulos (1978, 129 and 1985, 208). See Cabouret (1997, 141–158) and Guida (1998, 389–413) concerning this oracle, a late-antique Christian fabrication. Markopoulos (1978, 130). Pseudo-Symeon follows Theophanes up to the description of Julian’s attempt to rebuild the Temple (in De Boor 1883, 52), but after that chiefly draws upon other sources (see Patzig 1897, 336; Praechter 1897, 54–55; and Markopoulos 1978, 130). Kedrenos 323.3 (Tartaglia 2016, 535), like Pseudo-Symeon, quotes

206  Old stories and new reconstructions

37 38

39 40 41

42 43 44

45 46 47 48 49

Agathias when introducing the oracle whereby all the gods promise to support the emperor in the Persian war, but actually Agathias only mentions Julian in relation to Jovian’s peace treaty (see Cameron 1963, 91 and 1969–1970, 145; according to Cameron 1963, 94, the Agathias quote may have occurred in the Epitome). Tartaglia (2016, 535) hypothesises: “an Theodorus Anagnostes?” Text in Patzig (1897, 337). Aerts (1990, XV), against the attribution of this work to Psellus, puts forward the name of John Italos, without ruling out the possibility that the author may be later than Zonars. The work is attributed to Psellus by: Snipes (1982, 55), Ljubarskij (1993, 213–228), Duffy/Papaioannou (2003, 219–229), Kaldellis (2006, 222), Littlewood (2006, 54), and Markopoulos (2006, 294; who on p. 295 stresses Psellus’ influence on Zonaras as far as the emphasis on the importance of the history of ancient Rome is concerned). See Snipes (1982, 56), Ljubarskij (2006, 114), Lilie (2009, 16). See Ljubarskij (1993, 221). See Ljubarskij (2004, 260–261) (also on some fabrications in the Historia syntomos). The sarcastic historical perspective of Julian’s Caesares, apparently known to Psellus (see Littlewood 1985, 87), influenced the spirit of the Historia syntomos. Ljubarskij (2006, 114); See Snipes (1982, 61), Ljubarskij (1993, 214), Kaldellis (2007, 145), Dželebdžić (2007, 170). Aerts (1990, 38). Ljubarskij (1993, 228 n. 22) notes that, generally speaking, the so-called somatopsychogrammata known from the Epitome tradition do not appear in Psellus, apart from Julian’s portrayal, where – with the exception of the emperor’s short height (a detail deriving from the Epitome tradition) – the Apostate is described according to the traditional model of the “gloomy philosopher”. Psellus also alludes to Gregory or. 5.23 (see Duffy/Papaioannou 2003, 224 for some examples of the use of the invectives against Julian in the Historia syntomos). Psellus – and later, in the 14th century, Theodore Metochites – were the first authors to write a “scholarly” biography of Gregory of Nazianzus (see Ševčenko 1996, 28–29). See Kaldellis (2007, 191–206). Aerts (1990, 38). Aerts (1990, 38). Other authors associated with the Leoquelle convey the same tradition about the Apostate’s temperance. See Chapter 90.1 of Logothete’s Chronicon (Wahlgren 2006a, 113); Zonaras XIII.13 (Dindorf 1870, 216); Kedrenos, in a passage (320.2) from Pseudo-Symeon (Praechter 1897, 53; Tartaglia 2016, 530 on the use of the text attributed to Pseudo-Symeon in this part of Kedrenos’ text). Dželebdžić (2007, 161) posits the circulation of a collection of apophthegms attributed to Julian, although he does not accept the hypothesis put forward by Aerts (1990, XXIV) (and endorsed by Kampianaki 2016, 311–325) about the existence of a collection of emperors’ sayings used by Psellus. According to Dželebdžić (2007, 158–160), Michael Psellus’ Historia syntomos is Zonaras’ sole source for the description of Julian’s temperance and the saying that a philosopher should not even breathe. According to Bleckmann (1992a, 388 n. 242), Psellus and Zonaras may have derived the description of Julian’s temperance from the Leoquelle. Banchich (2009, 237 n. 115) connects Julian’s saying in Psellus and Zonaras to letter 3 in the corpus of the epistles attributed to Crates (Hercher 1873, 208). Julian expresses similar concepts to the saying quoted by Psellus and Zonaras in Contra Heracleum 226c (Nesselrath 2015b, 40–41; Psellus may be alluding to this passage in the Encomium Cerularii, as we shall see).

Old stories and new reconstructions  207 50 At the end of the second invective (or. 5.41), Gregory of Nazianzus alludes to the Misopogon in similar terms to Psellus (Bernardi 1983, 380). 51 Examples in Duffy/Papaioannou (2003, 224). On Psellus’ irony towards Gregory: Papaioannou (2013, 123). On Psellus and the Metaphrast: Høgel (2002, 73, 93–94, 137, 140 and 155). 52 See Chapter I. 53 This silence is all the more striking considering, for instance, the verdict ­expressed – in Chapter 91 – on Empress Irene, who is euphemistically called “not good” on account of her deposition and blinding of her own son, yet otherwise “pious” for having convened the 787 Council of Nicea, which brought the first iconoclastic period to an end (Aerts 1990, 82). 54 Aerts (1990, 40). This tradition about a mass conversion to Christianity under Jovian is already to be found in the works of late-antique Christian a­ uthors (e.g. Socrates III.22, Theodoret H.E. IV.1, and Epitome of Ecclesiastical ­Histories 151), starting from a first mention of it in Gregory’s or. 7.11 (Calvet-­ Sebasti 1995, 208). Gregory himself mentions the apostasy of much of the army under Julian in or. 4.82–83 (Bernardi 1983, 208–210); likewise, according to the Logothete (Chronicon 91.3) Julian’s army was a pagan one (Wahlgren 2006a, 115). 55 Aerts (1990, 38 and 40). 56 “In his many writings, Psellus attributed an eros for gnôsis to only one other person: himself” (Kaldellis 2007, 146). For Psellus’ love of knowledge, see the Encomium matris (Criscuolo 1989, 144 and 148), Epist. Cerular. (Ep. 111 in Papaioannou 2019, p. 247), and op. 32 (Duffy 1992, 113). According to Ljubarskij (1993, 219), Psellus’ educational ideal is partly reflected by Julian in the Historia syntomos. 57 See Dagron (1984, 125). 58 Duffy/Papaioannou (2003, 228). Psellus knew that Julian was a learned man and was certainly familiar with his literary output (see n. 49). For example, in the Historia syntomos he alludes to the Misopogon (Aerts 1990, 40). Farkas’ hypothesis that “Julian’s literary work was unknown to Psellus” (Farkas 2008, 189) is therefore unpersuasive. 59 Papaioannou (2019, 542). 60 Papaioannou (2019, 544). According to Siniossoglou (2011, 80), Psellus’ words are “pure sarcasm”. 61 Criscuolo (1989, 147–149). 62 Aerts (1990, 80). 63 Dennis (1994a, 80). 64 Wahlgren (2006a, 113). An almost identical account occurs in the so-called Chronicon Bruxellense, which depends on the same tradition used by the Logothete (Cumont 1894, 19). 65 Aerts (1990, 20 and 22). 66 See Kovács (2008, 398–404). 67 Aerts (1990, 36). Constantine’s saying also occurs in Zonaras, who – according to Dželebdžić (2007, 157–160) – derived it from Psellus. 68 See Dželebdžić (2007, 162–169). In the light of this ironic maxim attributed to Constantine, are we to read in positive terms the aforementioned definition of Julian as a “thorn in the side of the sweet-smelling rose such as was the pious family of the famous Constantine”? 69 Aerts (1990, 38 and 40). 70 According to Jeffreys (2017, 44–45), Psellus became a monk after – not before – falling from grace with Cerularius and being attacked by the latter’s supporters. 71 Papaioannou (2019, 240–241).

208  Old stories and new reconstructions 72 Papaioannou (2019, 241). Psellus seems to emphasise the importance of the body not just in this work but also, for example, in his Encomium of His Mother: here, as Kaldellis (2006, 228) notes, he dwells on the physical beauty of his own mother and sister, while arguing that as a monk he ought to focus on spiritual beauty. 73 Braounou (2015, 15). In ep. 124, addressed to the patriarch’s nephew Constantine shortly after 1070, “Psellus declares his similarity to shape-shifting animals, a common metaphor for dangerous changeability in Greek writing” (Papaioannou 2013, 151). This metaphor is also used in Gregory’s invective against Julian (or. 4.62): a mere coincidence? 74 See Braounou (2015, 20). 75 According to Kaldellis (1999, 1), Psellus is an anti-Christian Platonic philosopher. In any case, the hostility he had previously shown towards Cerularius undermines the credibility of his praise for the deceased patriarch (see Criscuolo 1990, 12–13, Braounou 2015, 9–23, and Jenkins 2017, 458 on Psellus and Cerularius). 76 Lemerle (1977, 259). 77 Polemis (2014, 63). 78 Nesselrath (2015b, 40–41). 79 Polemis (2014, 5). 80 Paraspondylos is described in Chronographia VI.210–211 (Reinsch 2014, 199–200). 81 According to Criscuolo (in Impellizzeri 1984, 422 n. 554), the polemic against Paraspondylos is also directed against Cerularius. When Psellus fell foul of Cerularius, Leo Paraspondylos did not come to his aid (see Jeffreys 2017, 45; on these two figures, see also Kaldellis 1999, 154–166, Pietsch 2005, 198–202 and Reinsch 2017, 128–140). 82 Dennis (1994b, 139). According to Dennis (1994b, 135), it is far from certain that the person praised is Leo; in contrast, according to Criscuolo (1983, 70 n. 30), Psellus is ironically addressing Leo Paraspondylos. 83 Papaioannou (2019, 551). 84 Reinsch (2017, 136). See also Jenkins (2017, 449): “he preferred to navigate a middle course”. 85 Papaioannou (2019, 576). Translation in Jenkins (2017, 453). 86 In ep. 111 Psellus writes to Cerularius that he has always yearned for knowledge, using terms that in the Historia syntomos are applied to Julian (see Aerts 1990, 38 and 40). The patriarch is instead accused of never having approached philosophy and books (Papaioannou 2019, 241); later on (Papaioannou 2019, 246), Psellus again accuses Cerularius of scorning culture. 87 Polemis (2014, 96); the same polemic against asceticism occurs in another passage of the same text, Oratio funebris 8 (Polemis 2014, 97). Likewise, in Chronographia VI.178 Psellus praises Leichoudes’ practical skills (Reinsch 2014, 186). 88 Reinsch (2014, 234). Constantine IX Monomachus falls on the opposite side of the spectrum: in Chronographia VI.47 he is said to be devoted to a life of pleasure, while in VI.48 he is accused of standing at the root of the Empire’s crisis, which Isaac sought to solve by adopting drastic, excessive remedies (Reinsch 2014, 126). With regard to the relationship between Psellus and Isaac, Kaldellis (1999, 171) notes: “The first Emperor to call Psellus a philosopher is also the first to be called philosophical by Psellus”. 89 Aerts (1990, 38). 90 According to Kaldellis (1999, 158), behind Leo there lies “a far more important target: the highest virtue of Neoplatonic and Christians ethics”. 91 See Kaldellis (1999, 162–163) (“the banishment of zealous religiosity from the management of public affairs […] Intolerant theocrats not only bring about their

Old stories and new reconstructions  209 own downfall, but also threaten the stability of the ‘body politic’ by rejecting diplomacy and taking absolute stands against their perceived enemies”) and 177 (Psellus’ “main enemy” is “the Byzantine religion”). See also Kaldellis (2012, 280), according to whom Psellus was not a Christian. 92 According to Siniossoglou (2011, 77) Psellus used Cerularius to condemn a negative form of Hellenism and thus defend a positive one: Psellus was making a choice between the two schools of pagan Platonism […] Using Keroularios as a straw man and explicitly condemning Hellenism in the form of occult divinatory practices, Psellus allows Hellenism to slip in by the back door in the form of speculative philosophical theology.

X Approaching the end A new beginning, longing for a distant past

X.1  Theophylact Theophylact, the Archbishop of Ohrid and a pupil of Michael Psellus’, wrote two hagiographical works about his archbishopric’s Christian origins within the broader context of the history of Christianity.1 The first part of Passio Martyrum XV Tiberiopolis is devoted to Julian’s reign and the 15 saints reportedly martyred in the Macedon city of Tiberiopolis, while the second part focuses on the subsequent history of Christianity in Macedonia and Bulgaria.2 The first part of the work is in turn divided into two sections, the first on Julian’s empire (up to Chapter 14) and the second (deriving from a lost passion) on the martyrs of Tiberiopolis.3 Theophylact’s vast cultural knowledge makes it impossible to draw any certain conclusion on the sources he may have used for each piece of information he provides. We can clearly detect the use of certain authors, such as Gregory of Nazianzus and Socrates, but it is evident that, in the first section of the work, Theophylact is redeveloping several sources4 to fashion a single narrative in such a way that it is not always possible to detect what author he is drawing upon.5 A very interesting case is the name of the city in which the martyrdom occurred: for Theophanes it is Odesopolis,6 whereas for Theophylact (Chapter 13) it is Edessa.7 In the latter case, Theophylact is ennobling the history of the diocese whose archbishop he is by consciously turning Odesopolis into Edessa in such a way as to establish as close as possible a connection between Macedonia and the history of ancient Christianity, according to the logic governing his hagiographical works.8 Likewise, in Chapter 12 of Passio Martyrum XV Tiberiopolis (whose source is the hagiographical tradition about the martyrdom of Macedonius, Theodoulos and Tatian), Theophylact does not mention Macedonius and shifts the setting of the event from Asia Minor to Macedonia.9 Memory of the ancient city of Edessa in Macedonia endured, as witnessed by Theophylact himself in a work – In Defence of Eunuchs, written in favour of his eunuch brother – where he also recalls the Apostate’s hostility towards eunuchs (cf. Chapter I).10 The Edessa of Passio Martyrum XV Tiberiopolis is therefore clearly the one in

DOI: 10.4324/9781003179818-10

Longing for a distant past  211 11

Macedonia, and this transformation of Odesopolis into Edessa is comparable to the transformation of martyr Macedonius into Macedonia. Theophylact’s hostility towards Julian is derived from Gregory of Nazianzus, as is shown by the disparaging epithets he employs12 and by his defence of the Arian Constantius II.13 Gregory repeatedly praises philanthropy as one of Constantius II’s virtues in the first invective (or. 4.3; 4.22; 4.31; 4.35; 4.39; 4.48), and the first of these passages14 is one of the sources that Theophylact employs in Chapter 7, when recounting Constantius II’s action in favour of the future Apostate in 337.15 Also detectable is the influence of authors posterior to Gregory,16 and the merging of elements drawn from his work with ones borrowed from later writers.17 It is worth noting that, after describing the “Galilaeans’” expulsion from schools and public offices, Theophylact acknowledges that many Christians committed apostasy, concluding Chapter 10 with an implicit admission of Julian’s success.18 At the beginning of the subsequent chapter, however, the author returns to the topoi of hagiographical literature: he presents Julian as a persecutor raging against all bishops, especially Athanasius.19 Then, in Chapter 13, he states: “What text could list what was committed in all lands against Christ’s servants by the tyrant’s followers?”20 In this first section of the first part of the work, Theophylact even addresses Julian directly, in “Gregorian” fashion. For instance, the corrupting of springs and market food ordered by the Apostate21 gives Theophylact a chance to stress the emperor’s ineptitude and failure to realise the impossibility of him defeating Christianity.22 After the failure of this measure taken by the Apostate, in the second section of Part 1 the narrative shifts to the city of Nicea in Asia Minor. In Chapter 14, the order for provincial governors to take action against Christians marks the beginning of an epic passion.23 The protagonists are Christian refugees who have fled Nicea to Tiberiopolis, while Julian is only mentioned in relation to the debate between Thessalonica’s pagan governors and the 15 martyrs. The saints repeatedly accuse the emperor of apostasy (although the term parabates is also used).24 In the original passion, the Apostate may therefore have only been a supporting player. In Theophylact’s case, his interest in Julian is instead evident: he perused and redeveloped several sources to create a new narrative set within the framework of an extensive passion, which he turned into the religious history of a Byzantine province. Indeed, the second part of his work is devoted to medieval Bulgaria: Chapters 28–33 concern the pagan period of the Bulgars’ history, while the following ones (up to Chapter 55, the last chapter) are devoted to miracles and the translation of relics. In Chapter 28 the presentation of the Bulgars as “apostate”25 is a reference to the figure of Julian, but Theophylact does not pay much attention to any of the medieval sovereigns who persecuted Christianity. Therefore, the Apostate becomes a symbol of resistance against the advance of Christianity, resistance that was put up both in Antiquity and during the Middle Ages,

212  Longing for a distant past after the barbarian invasions (the focus of Chapter 27), which spelled the end of the ancient civilisation.

X.2  Echoes of the Leoquelle after Michael Psellus A contemporary of Theophylact’s, George Kedrenos, wrote a Chronicle with a complex structure, owing to various repetitions.26 His working method is easy to analyse because almost all his sources have reached us. One exception is the lost Zwillingsquelle, which is to say the “twin source” used by Zonaras and Kedrenos, which in turn were derived from late-antique authors such as Philostorgius.27 Regarding Julian’s reign, as for much of the period before 811, the main sources are Pseudo-Symeon and George the Monk.28 The latter’s hostility sets the tone of the narrative, in which Julian’s reign is described twice. Julian is presented as a failed church-builder and false monk.29 After his brother Gallus’ death, he is protected by Eusebia and sent to Athens, where he is initiated into the pagan mysteries in a cave. Through a climax of impiety which Kedrenos anticipates compared to the chronological succession of events – for Julian’s acts of impiety are described in the section devoted to Constantius II’s reign (Chapter 318) – the Apostate corrupts the market food, attempts to rebuild the Temple in Jerusalem, plans the extermination of monks, and goes so far as to sacrifice thousands of women, children, and foetuses.30 Through this description of Julian’s idolatry and massacres, derived from George the Monk, Kedrenos anticipates his subsequent account of Julian’s reign, which – like Theophanes – he presents across three years. In such a way, Kedrenos gives the impression that the attempt at pagan restoration lasted for not under two years, but far more than three. A further anticipation of Julian’s three-year reign is derived from Pseudo-Symeon’s text in Chapter 320, where a false prophecy by the Apostate is disproven by his very own gods. The collapse of Hagia Sophia’s dome leads Julian to assume that the defeat of Christianity is imminent, but the last Delphic oracle about the end of paganism31 heralds the foundering of all the emperor’s subsequent efforts, which are outlined through a second climax of acts of cruelty and failures. In Chapter 321, also derived from Pseudo-Symeon, Kedrenos describes the events during the first year of Julian’s reign: palace purges and massacres perpetrated by pagan mobs (from George’s death in Alexandria to that of Cyril of Heliopolis), without any mention of direct intervention on Julian’s part. However, Kedrenos borrows from Pseudo-Symeon the topos of the impossibility of recounting everything that the Christians endured in those years, thereby confirming the negative verdict on the Apostate.32 In the second year of his reign (described in Chapter 322, mostly deriving from Pseudo-Symeon), Julian issues the edict expelling Christians from schools and establishes a pagan counter-Church. After profanations of relics and sacred objects, in a verbal exchange with Bishop Maris the emperor still shows himself tolerant, wishing to come across as a philosopher. However, he later

Longing for a distant past  213 exiles Athanasius and, after the burning down of the temple in Daphne, orders the closure of the church in Antioch. This description is followed by that of the martyrdom of Artemius, Eugenius, and Macarius.33 The account of the third year of Julian’s reign (in Chapter 323, also mostly derived from Pseudo-Symeon)34 begins with a reference to the sentencing to death of many other martyrs and the attempt to rebuild the Temple of Jerusalem, but then mentions the Apostate’s defeat on all fronts, alternating this description with that of various miracles. The reconstruction of the Temple indeed fails miraculously, as does the refutation of the Gospels (an allusion to the Contra Galilaeos). A miraculous appearance of the Cross in Jerusalem precedes the mention of the fallacious oracles that, by promising victory to Julian, lead him to bring war to Persia. The prodigy of the changing of water into wine in a Christian woman’s home foreshadows the final failure and death of the Apostate, who angrily acknowledges his defeat.35 The narrative of the foundering of his anti-Christian plans is thus marked by the progressive manifestation of God’s power. After painting a gloomy portrait of the living Julian, Kedrenos reports his burial in Constantinople. This description marks the transition to a short section in which late-antique pagan echoes emerge, providing a sudden and partial final rectification of the previous double negative climax: the chronicler quotes the funerary eulogy inscribed on the Apostate’s tomb and mentions his contemptuous words about his successor, the Christian Jovian.36 In such a way, Kedrenos’ Julian also emerges as an emperor with some merits, notwithstanding the predominantly negative assessment of him in the Byzantine Middle Ages. Joannes Zonaras stands out among other Byzantine chroniclers because he makes far more extensive use of the Leoquelle than those authors, such as Symeon Logothete, who drew upon the Epitome tradition.37 In addition to this source, Zonaras also redevelops material which includes legendary traditions, and is influenced by Michael Psellus’ Historia syntomos. Zonaras first mentions Julian’s name in the passage (XIII.2) in which he lists Constantine and Fausta’s children. Here, he recalls that Helen was Julian’s wife. However, the Apostate also makes a surprising appearance in the description of Constantine’s personality (XIII.4). Zonaras reports Julian’s criticism of his uncle’s prodigality in Caesares 36 (335 a–b): “Hermes asked Constantine, ‘And what was the height of your ambition?’ ‘To amass great wealth,’ he answered, ‘and then to spend it liberally so as to gratify my own desires and the desires of my friends’”.38 Zonaras, however, alters Constantine’s answer, so as to avoid presenting the first Christian emperor as a slave to his own and others’ desires: “the emperor must possess much and spend much”.39 While partly censored, this quote from a Julian passage that harshly belittles Constantine is unique in the Byzantine chronicle tradition. It may derive from Eunapius via Philostorgius and the Zwillingsquelle,40 or from the Leoquelle, which contained plenty of criticism of the first Christian emperor.41 Zonaras is aware that he is using a source inimical to Constantine, so much so that, just before quoting the Julian passage and after

214  Longing for a distant past having mentioned the charges of prodigality and greed levelled against the first Christian emperor, he states that he does not wish to report any more slander against him.42 However, later on as well Zonaras seems to follow the structure of his pagan source: when recounting the Apostate’s proclamation as Caesar and marriage to his cousin Helen,43 and briefly touching upon Julian’s education, Zonaras confirms his unique position within the Byzantine chronicle tradition by being the only author to describe the premonitory dream that the Apostate’s mother had, a dream in which she gave birth to Achilles. On account of this and other good omens, Julian’s hopeful parents entrusted Bishop Eusebius of Nicomedia with their son’s education (XIII.10).44 This information is clearly derived from a pagan source: the comparison with the Homeric hero, who lived a short yet glorious life, also occurs in Libanius (Pro templis 40–41), according to whom Julian, like Achilles, died because of an act of deception and must be celebrated for his feats, since he boldly chose glory, at the cost of his own life.45 After this prologue, which bestowed an aura of tragic glory on Julian, the Leoquelle followed by Zonaras provides a narrative focused on political and military factors, without the kind of polemical distortions serving political purposes we often find in Byzantine chronicles. The text thus recounts the suspicions about Constantius II and his decision to dispatch Julian to Gaul with a small number of soldiers, who nonetheless succeed in defeating the barbarians. According to the chronicler, the Apostate stirred up the army, which was later to proclaim him Augustus for two reasons (in which religious issues have no weight): Julian’s victories against the barbarians46 and his fear that he might die like his brother Gallus. However, Zonaras notes that the Apostate accepted – “perhaps unwillingly” – the soldiers’ proclamation of him as Augustus.47 In his account of the negotiations between the two emperors in 360, Zonaras continues to follow the Leoquelle’s political perspective, and presents Julian’s motivations according to the Apostate’s own propaganda. For example, after quoting a message in which Constantius II accuses his cousin of showing himself ungrateful not only for his appointment as Caesar, but also for the protection he enjoyed as a Julian, Zonaras provides Julian’s bitter response to quaestor Leo, sent to him by Constantius II: “Who made me an orphan at that age?” (XIII.10)48 What might not be derived from the Leoquelle is the information about Julian’s divorce from his wife Helen49 and the description of his “wickedness”, which he concealed until Constantius’ death. The subsequent mention of a tolerance edict issued by the Apostate to ensure support from the soldiers, most of whom were Christians (XIII.11),50 might be derived from a Christian text dealing with Church history.51 Another exception, after the information about the public mourning ordered by Julian for Constantius II’s death, concerns the new, uncrowned emperor’s attendance at Constantius II’s state funeral, which is apparently derived from the Zwillingsquelle.52 After Constantius II’s funerals, Zonaras describes the new emperor’s policy on the basis of the Leoquelle, which is to say without any reference to religious

Longing for a distant past  215 matters. The purging of Constantius II’s followers, the anecdote about a defendant who is judged not guilty in the absence of evidence, and the Apostate’s policy of austerity are presented as an attempt to gain popularity on his part.53 Zonaras’ Julian is therefore different from what we find in most Byzantine chronicles. When he describes the distribution of riches to the soldiers before the Persian campaign, however, Zonaras begins to follow what is evidently a Christian source, which pays close attention to religious issues and blends fanciful information – particularly on hagiographical matters – with information drawn from trustworthy ancient authors (possibly the Zwillingsquelle).54 This marks the beginning of a new description of Julian’s reign based on a different perspective, as is clear from Zonaras’ opening words in this section: immediately after becoming sole emperor and consolidating his power, [Julian] burst into an openly professed paganism. As already noted, even before that he had already abjured Christianity, yet he had not dared let his impiety burst into the open.55 After mentioning the large number of martyrs, the Apostate’s folly, and the exclusion of Christians from schools – a measure opposed by Apollinaris and Gregory of Nazianzus56 – Zonaras describes the attempt to rebuild the Temple of Jerusalem, the sentencing of the eunuch Eusebius to death, Julian’s dialectical confrontation with Bishop Maris, and an episode that occurred in Tarsus during the emperor’s journey from Constantinople to Antioch. In Tarsus, a priest of Apollo named Artemius successfully petitioned Julian to have the old pagan temple which had been destroyed rebuilt at the expenses of the local bishop, but a miracle prevented the completion of this step in the Apostate’s pagan restoration. The episode is not attested elsewhere57 and the term by which Zonaras describes Julian (parabates)58 – assuming he did not personally insert it into the narrative – suggests that we are dealing with a late fabrication, known to Zonaras from a medieval source: for, as an epithet, parabates is not found before the 6th century (see Chapter IV). However, the order to restore the pagan place of worship at the expense of the Christian bishop responsible for its destruction is also mentioned with reference to Mark of Arethusa, most notably by Gregory of Nazianzus (or. 4.88–90): therefore, the tradition which crops up in Zonaras may be based on an actual historical episode. The subsequent information, concerning the Apostate’s sojourn in Antioch, presents the same kind of blending of reality and fiction. With regard to the citizens’ mocking of the emperor, Zonaras quotes a short passage from the Misopogon (338d). But then, after the description of the burning down of the temple in Daphne, he reports information about some martyrs that is evidently either derived from a medieval tradition, or directly drawn from hagiographical texts. The last martyrdom mentioned before

216  Longing for a distant past the description of the Persian war is that of Manuel, Sabel, and Ishmael, presented as ambassadors of the King of Persia, as in the hagiographical tradition (XIII.12).59 However, whereas the passions set their martyrdom in Constantinople, Zonaras apparently sets the episode in Antioch. This shift – assuming it was not already found in Zonaras’ source – may be due to his desire to connect the Church history section with that devoted to the Apostate’s last war. Zonaras then follows the Leoquelle again, which emphasises Julian’s initial success, with the besieging of Ctesiphon. According to the Leoquelle, the reversal of fortune is due to a ruse that the Persians devise with the help of two fake deserters. The chronicler would appear to add to this account his own harsh judgement about Julian’s folly and impiety: “the impious one, madly believing them […] set fire to the ships”.60 During the Roman withdrawal, Julian, who has taken his armour off because of the heat, “is struck by a spear in his side. It is said that on account of the mighty wind that was blowing, a deep darkness enveloped the mist”.61 This “it is said” marks the transition from a source (possibly the Zwillingsquelle) deriving from the ecclesiastical historiographical tradition.62 This Christian source shrouds the narrative in an atmosphere of mystery and legend – from the mention of the cloud of dust that envelops the combatants to the description of the gesture and utterance of the Apostate who, vanquished by God, sprays blood from his wound towards the sky, crying out: “Have your fill, Nazarene!”63 In the description of Julian’s grave and funerary inscription, Zonaras returns to the Leoquelle,64 which he also follows in relation to the transportation of the emperor’s body to Constantinople and his psychological portrayal, where he makes no mention at all of Julian’s religious choices. Instead, Zonaras stresses the Apostate’s desire for glory, the meekness with which he accepted being corrected whenever he was wrong, and especially his vast cultural knowledge and temperance.65 This praise deriving from the chronicler’s pagan source would appear to have crowned the portrayal of the last pagan emperor in the Leoquelle.66 Zonaras adds some prophecies about Julian’s death: following a tradition close to Malalas’, he recounts that in Antioch the emperor dreamt of a fair-headed young man who foretold his death “in Phrygia”. Mortally wounded in a place called Phrygia, the emperor screamed: “O Sun, you have ruined Julian!”67 The dreams and prophecies continue with the account that a pagan in Antioch saw the stars form a strange celestial inscription announcing the emperor’s death, which occurred that very day in Persia.68 This last piece of information derives from a Christian source: the pagan converts once Julian’s death is officially announced (XIII.13).69 Just as Julian had been presented in advance through an accusation against Constantine’s expenditure policy, so, after his death, he makes another appearance with a contemptuous verdict about the future emperor Jovian (XIII.14).70 This anecdote is also found in the Salmasian John of Antioch71 and in the Epitome tradition, which suggests it might come from the

Longing for a distant past  217 72

so-called Zwillingsquelle. Indeed, Jovian’s order to call back the bishops exiled by Constantius II and Julian73 is another piece of information that has plausibly been suggested as derived from the Zwillingsquelle.74 However, considering that for the period after Jovian’s reign Zonaras directly draws upon Kedrenos,75 it cannot be ruled out that the latter is also the source of the anecdote about Julian and Jovian. Overall, therefore, Zonaras’ Julian seems twofold. On the one hand, we have the emperor of the Leoquelle, who is evaluated pragmatically in terms of his political and military actions, without glossing over his excesses and errors (including the choice not to wear any armour because of the heat in the final battle); ultimately, this emperor is praised for his vast culture and eagerness to detach himself from the base aspects of material reality. On other, we have the Apostate, a persecutor responsible for many a martyr’s death who in the end is struck down by God’s will, which also manifests itself through prophetic visions. This ambivalence is found even later in Zonaras’ work: on the one hand, with regard to Jovian, the chronicler reports the pithy, disparaging prophecy uttered by his predecessor (XIII.14); on the other, he presents Valentinian as a Christian confessor who was exiled as such by the Apostate (XIII.15).76 The ambiguity of Psellus’ Julian is therefore partly mirrored by the duplicity of Zonaras’ Julian, although the latter author does not display the same degree of personal involvement. In choosing to present the information from Leoquelle so extensively, Zonaras conveys an interpretation of the figure of the Apostate which is not limited to a condemnation of him, of the sort we instead find in works such as George the Monk’s. In the preface, Zonaras seems to be polemicising precisely against the kind of chronicle represented by George the Monk’s work;77 hence, his narrative of Julian’s reign would appear to be based not only on his knowledge of the Leoquelle, but also on a desire to use this source to provide an at least partly secular historical account.78 After Zonaras, Constantine Manassess and Ephrem, who stand out through their choice to write verse chronicles, would seem to depend on the Leoquelle. Manasses’ Chronicle was written for “a new class of literate aristocrats”,79 that of the Komnenian period (the work was composed before 1142)80 and enjoyed considerable success.81 In certain instances, Manasses’ information is generic (as in the case of Julian’s appointment as Caesar in vv. 2346–2347), while in others it is indirectly derived from the Leoquelle, or at any rate from a pagan source.82 The most striking example is v. 2351, in which the Apostate, at the moment of his proclamation as Caesar near Milan, quotes a verse from Homer (“purple death and fate seized him”): a tradition already known to Ammianus and the Salmasian John of Antioch.83 However, unlike Michael Psellus or even Zonaras, the predominant sentiment that Constantine Manasses expresses is hostility, which he displays right from the Apostate’s very first appearance, in vv. 2289–2290, where

218  Longing for a distant past many insults are hurled at him.84 Furthermore, in v. 2346 Manasses calls the Apostate a “stinking pig”.85 This unmitigated enmity is also evident from other verses, such as v. 2353 (“he revolted against his God and emperor”) and vv. 2355–2356 (where he is said to have preferred “thrice-sinful demons” to his baptism, which he “washed away with blood”).86 In the latter case we find some evident analogies with the Epitome of Historia Tripartita 122,87 as well as with Theophanes,88 and hence with one of the chroniclers depending on him.89 In vv. 2363–2365, where Constantine Manasses writes that the dying Constantius II regretted three things (namely the 337 massacre, his support of Arianism, and his proclamation of Julian as Caesar), the most exact similarities are with Theophanes, who mentions the three causes of regret in the same order (Gregory of Nazianzus, the first author to list them in or. 21.26, instead provides a different order). However, Theophanes’ simple statement90 is livened up by Manasses: for instance, Theophanes’ “Apostate” becomes “the most God-hating one”.91 Later on in the narrative, Constantine Manasses completes his negative portrait of Julian by calling him an apostate (v. 2368) and by accusing him (in v. 2370) of having spilled “rivers of blood” and of having done “everything shameful and abominable”, and finally by referring to him as a “mud-covered pig”.92 Even after his death, brought about by God’s will (along with Tyche, one of the forces that govern history, according to Manasses),93 the emperor finds no peace on account of the earthquakes that strike his tomb (vv. 2376–2378), according to a tradition stretching back to Gregory of Nazianzus and also known to George the Monk.94 Generally speaking, scholars have noted that Constantine Manasses displays “no sign of any theological interests”, and indeed appears as “a lively figure involved in the life of the secular court”95 of the Komnenian dynasty. Yet, he is one of the Byzantine authors most hostile to Julian, as is also shown by the violent insults he devises. Manasses deeply redevelops the material provided by Theophanes and the Leoquelle; hence, his verses bear witness to the underlying hostility towards the Apostate in many areas of Byzantine culture. Ephrem, the author of a verse chronicle, follows Manasses in his section on Julian (447–471), and therefore – if only indirectly – the Leoquelle tradition.96 Unlike Manasses, Ephrem avoids the harshest insults, although his hostility is evident: the Apostate is called “Christ’s raving enemy” in v. 448,97 an apostate in vv. 449–450, and an exterminator of martyrs in vv. 458–460.98 By comparison to these charges, v. 463, which stresses that Julian did not conduct the military operations in a suitable way,99 seems almost devoid of the polemical verve which is instead expressed again towards the end of the Julian section, where Ephrem emphasises the Apostate’s folly.100 Generally speaking, this chronicler judges emperors according to their attitude towards Christianity and – for the period after Constantine – towards Orthodoxy.101 His portrayal of Julian is perfectly in accordance with this general approach; we do not find even the slightest involuntary deviation,

Longing for a distant past  219 as when Constantine Manasses, for example, recalls the Homeric line that Julian quoted when accepting the imperial purple, thereby offering us a glimpse into the Apostate’s own thoughts.

X.3  Michael Glykas Twelfth-century theologian and historian Michael Glykas provides a highly original account in his Annales, a universal chronicle extending to the year 1118102 in which he freely redevelops his sources: for the imperial period, George the Monk, the Epitome,103 Constantine Manasses, and Zonaras.104 Moreover, he quotes from the preface to Cyril’s Contra Iulianum when discussing the Apostate’s talent and rhetorical skill, and also disproves the legend according to which the Apostate was killed by St Mercurius. Michael Glykas derives his short account of Julian’s youth as a lector and failed church-builder from George the Monk,105 while he follows Constantine Manasses106 in giving the duration of the emperor’s reign as two years and seven months.107 The description of the acts of profanation ordered after the temple in Daphne was burned down108 may derive from the Artemii Passio (BHG 170–171, Chapters 56–57 and 68) or the Metaphrastean passion of Artemius (BHG 172 Chapters 36–39), but the succinctness with which Glykas presents Julian’s action makes it impossible to draw any certain conclusions.109 In the subsequent description of the attempt to rebuild the Temple of Jerusalem,110 Glykas again seems to follow George the Monk,111 but his condemnation of the legend of St Mercurius is highly original. He notes that the narrative attributed to St Amphilochios (BHG 250), in which Basil is the Bishop of Caesarea when “the most wicked” Julian is engaged in his Persian expedition, is disproven by Gregory of Nazianzus (or. 43.30).112 Glykas concludes his demonstration by remarking that the name of the person who delivered a mortal blow to Julian “has remained unknown to this day”.113 Gregory of Nazianzus is newly mentioned by Glykas in relation to the earthquakes that struck the emperor’s tomb, a sign of his damnation,114 but this might be an indirect quotation, since the same passage also occurs in George the Monk,115 Glykas’ main source for the imperial period. Indeed, after a reference to Julian’s many impieties, Glykas sums up the episode described by George the Monk, in which a demon serving the Apostate is stopped by a monk’s prayers. The description of the disembowelling of women for divinatory purposes116 further confirms Glykas’ dependence on George the Monk as far as his gloomy portrayal of Julian is concerned.117 At the same time, however, Julian is seen as an eloquent and educated person who has been led astray by the enemies of Christianity.118 This portrayal derives from the introduction to Cyril of Alexandria’s Contra Julianum, the work that allows Glykas to quote some passages from the Contra Galilaeos, possibly via Photius.119 As regards the criticism of the legend of St Mercurius, scholars have envisaged the possibility that Glykas may depend on a source from the iconoclastic period eager to demolish one

220  Longing for a distant past of John of Damascus’ arguments in favour of the veneration of icons,120 but as a theologian Glykas stands out by repeatedly asserting his independence from common opinion.121 Therefore, Glykas shows how the “byzantinische Vulgärtradition” on Julian could partly be followed122 and partly consciously rejected, also drawing upon the works of Church Fathers such as Cyril and Gregory, and even by someone who in any case sought to confirm the Apostate’s staunch condemnation.

X.4  The Palaeologan era: historians In the Palaeologan era, Gregory’s influence is detectable in the Synopsis chronike by Theodore Skoutariotes. In the Chronica – the first version of the Synopsis, which he wrote or compiled between 1270 and 1280123 – the Julian chapter is very succinct, yet his condemnation is evident: “with human blood he washed away the holy baptism”, while at the end he “is killed by an invisible blow”.124 In the Synopsis, written after 1283, other information is added to that derived from the Chronica and the negative verdict on Julian is amplified: the author mentions the death of many martyrs as well as the fact that Julian had been a cleric and lector, making his apostasy all the more detestable – he “surpassed in inhumaneness and impiety all the tyrants and impious men who lived before him”.125 Julian is already presented as responsible for the most inhumane of all persecutions by Gregory,126 and Skoutariotes follows him. An even stronger influence from Gregory is detectable in the Ecclesiastical History by Nikephoros Kallistos Xanthopoulos, who in the early 14th century redeveloped and harmoniously combined historical and hagiographical sources.127 As far as Julian is concerned, the influence of Gregory’s invectives is evident both in the borrowing of certain passages, including lengthy ones, and in the addition of hostile personal comments.128 Significantly, the first mention of Julian (IX.20) occurs in a passage about Constantius II’s Arianism, where Nikephoros quotes Gregory’s invectives.129 He also quotes other passages by Gregory praising Constantius II, including his comparison of the two emperor’s funerals (IX.50). The historian states that he wishes to adopt the same attitude of benevolence towards Constantius II found in the invectives against Julian, and justifies the Arian emperor’s trust in the Apostate130 by alluding to two passages from Gregory’s first invective (or. 4.37 and 4.38).131 The way in which Nikephoros alters the text of the source he uses is exemplified, in Book IX, by the passage (IX.50) describing Julian’s victories against the barbarians on the Rhine and his subsequent proclamation as Augustus by the troops.132 The source is Sozomen (V.1.1),133 according to whom the soldiers appreciate the Apostate on account of his moderation and benevolence: according to Nikephoros, by contrast it is a “semblance of moderation and benevolence” that leads the soldiers to proclaim Julian Augustus. Nikephoros therefore specifically alters his source to make it more hostile to the Apostate.134

Longing for a distant past  221 Book X as well clearly reflects the predominance of 5th-century Church historians among Nikephoros’ sources, confirming his desire to reconnect to the ancient Christian tradition. We also find some additions drawn from Gregory and other sources, particularly hagiographical ones. For example, in Chapter 1, devoted to the Apostate’s youth, Nikephoros writes that in Athens, Basil and Gregory already harboured doubts about him,135 alluding to Gregory’s second invective and especially to his physical portrayal of Julian as a student in Athens (or. 5.23).136 Nikephoros also appears to be drawing from Gregory when, in Chapter 2, he describes the scene of Constantius II’s funeral.137 After a few chapters on Julian’s first steps in his attempt at a pagan restoration,138 towards the end of Chapter 7 Nikephoros mentions Theodoret of Antioch’s martyrdom, while in Chapter 8 he begins his list of martyrs and confessors sub Iuliano. In Chapter 9 he inserts some additions from later sources, such as the information about Dorotheus and Dometius.139 In the subsequent chapter as well, Nikephoros adds information derived from medieval hagiographical works: among various other martyrs, he mentions Manuel, Sabel, and Ishmael in Chapter 11; then in Chapter 12 he recalls the kollyba miracles, probably drawing upon the Narratio (BHG 1768).140 In his description of the torturing of Mark of Arethusa, in X.9, Nikephoros instead newly employs Sozomen (V.10) as his source, while making a further allusion to Gregory.141 In Chapter 25 the historian adds a personal comment to the description of the law banning Christians from school, which he explains by claiming that Julian feared Gregory and Basil’s many skills.142 In this case as well he is evidently influenced by Gregory, who in his second invective alludes to the Apostate’s anti-Christian school legislation, issued out of fear of the teaching and shared views of the two Cappadocian saints (or. 5.39).143 Gregory’s self-praise is therefore the source of this addition made by Nikephoros,144 which further confirms the Church Father’s influence. The author also proves to be drawing upon the late-antique tradition in Chapter 13, where he employs words almost literally borrowed from Philostorgius (VII.4) to describe Julian’s recalling of the bishops exiled by Constantius II – already reported in Chapter 5. Moreover, Nikephoros is aware of the Apostate’s success in fuelling Christian infighting: his machinations bring “shame and blame” upon Christianity and are followed by other displays of his “wicked ability”.145 Perhaps it is no coincidence that after this description of Julian’s policy of divide et impera, Nikephoros makes no other reference to the Apostate, but chooses to focus on conflicts within the Church in the following Chapters (14–18). The Persian war and Julian’s death are described in Chapters 34 and 35, and we may compare this description to that found in Nikephoros’ sources in order to appreciate how he makes use of them. First, with regard to the Apostate’s refusal to negotiate with the Persian envoys, the author follows Socrates (III.19) with some additions, including Julian’s statement that, after the Persians, he intends to fight the Christians, and particularly the inhabitants of Caesarea, on account of Basil and Gregory.146 In this case as well, we can

222  Longing for a distant past detect an evident influence from Gregory’s self-praise towards the end of the second invective, particularly the passage (or. 5.39) already mentioned in Chapter 25 with regard to the anti-Christian school legislation, which according to Nikephoros was devised specifically to oppose the two Cappadocian fathers. With regard to the series of prodigies and miracles envisaged by the Christian tradition in relation to the Persian war, Nikephoros mostly follows Sozomen (VI.1–2), with some additions147 and changes concerning the vision that Julian’s friend had, derived from Sozomen (VI.2.3–5). In the latter source, the saints announcing Julian’s death at the heavenly assembly are anonymous, whereas they are Artemius and Mercurius148 in Nikephoros (X.35). The dialogue between Libanius and a Christian friend (X.35) is derived from Sozomen (VI.2.9), with only one difference: in the latter account the pagan interlocutor is not Libanius, but an anonymous person. It is therefore apparent that Nikephoros does not like featuring anonymous characters in his narrative, which is why he picks famous names from the pagan and Christian sides. With regard to the dying Julian’s utterance, Nikephoros approaches several sources, starting from Sozomen (VI.2.10–11), according to whom the Apostate cast the blood he had collected in one hand towards the sky. The sentence “You have won, Galilean” is drawn from Theodoret (H.E. III.25.7), but immediately afterwards Nikephoros returns to transcribing Sozomen (VI.2.11), according to whom the dying Julian addressed the Sun.149 It is interesting, however, that in Sozomen’s version (VI.2.11) the Sun protects the Persians and not the Romans, as in Nikephoros, which is possibly why the latter no longer grasps the meaning of the bitter statement made by the dying Julian. After mentioning the two versions of the dying Apostate’s utterance, Nikephoros temporarily departs from Sozomen by adding a third variation of this utterance: “Have your fill, Nazarene!” In Philostorgius’ text (VII.15), known from Photius, Julian only says “Have your fill”,150 so in reporting the dying Apostate’s utterance, Nikephoros does not depend – at least not exclusively – on Philostorgius,151 whereas in the immediately following passage his account coincides almost word-forword with the Homoean historian’s description of the curses hurled at the gods and of physician Oribasius’ presence at the emperor’s side. However, the account from Philostorgius Nikephoros adds what appears to be a disparaging personal comment, in a Gregorian spirit, on how Julian’s dreams of glory were wretchedly shattered on the battlefield: “the wound made all Oribasius’ treatments useless and in three days brought about the death of he who thought he would live through many ages”.152 Nikephoros’ hostility towards Julian is also evident in another addition to the text he follows in Chapter 36,153 namely Socrates (from III.22.1). When mentioning Julian’s attack on Constantine in the Caesares, Socrates (in III.23.16) claims that he is seeking to illustrate Julian’s character, whereas Nikephoros reinforces the attack by adopting a sarcastic tone reminiscent of the allusion to Julian’s dreams of eternal glory, referring to his mind as “wicked”.154 In Chapter 37 (the last one devoted to Julian), Gregory’s importance for Nikephoros’

Longing for a distant past  223 portrayal of Julian is confirmed by the fact that the author first follows – as in the previous chapter – Socrates (III.23.18–26), from which he draws a passage originally from Gregory’s second invective (or. 5.23–24); then, abandoning Socrates, he collects quotes about Julian from other orations by Gregory.155 Nikephoros’ dependence on Gregory is thus also confirmed by the conclusion of the Julian section, as though in his representation of the Apostate the historian sought to reaffirm his faithfulness not just to 5th-century Church historians, but also to Gregory of Nazianzus’ polemical spirit. This eagerness to reconnect to the late-antique Christian tradition, including Philostorgius’ heretical one to some extent, leads Nikephoros to mention – in addition to the kollyba miracle – only a few martyrs among those known to medieval hagiographers: Dorotheus, Dometius, Manuel Sabel, and Ishmael. These additions only slightly alter the overall structure of his lengthy narrative, which, in its effort to revive the literary genre of ecclesiastical history, de facto extends eight centuries back: an important testimony to the fact that the cultural circles of Andronikos II Palaiologos’ age presented the emperor as a new Constantine fighting heresies. The empire’s continuity, from Late Antiquity to the late medieval period, is explicitly displayed.156

X.5  The Palaeologan era: Nikephoros Gregoras and Julian The Elogium Mercurii (BHG 1277) was written by Nikephoros Gregoras, a leading representative of Palaiologan culture, between 1322 and 1327.157 In the first chapter of this highly original work, Gregoras himself states that he wishes to focus on what previous hagiographers have omitted.158 He draws upon a variety of sources: the previous historiographical tradition159 and the pagan historians Zosimus160 and Eutropius (via a Greek translation), who in the Vita Constantini (BHG 369) is presented as a follower of Julian’s,161 hostile to the first Christian emperor.162 Moreover, Gregoras is familiar with the Apostate’s literary output (so much so that he quotes the Caesares, in addition to Libanius, in relation to Constantine),163 as well as late-antique Christian authors.164 The Elogium Mercurii also reflects the influence of Gregory of Nazianzus, Cyril,165 and Symeon the Metaphrast.166 Gregoras’ work, in seven chapters, has a symmetrical structure: Chapters 2 and 6 are devoted to Mercurius, Chapters 3 and 5 to Julian, and St Basil’s vision is described in the central chapter (Chapter 4).167 The last chapter, which is very brief, constitutes an epilogue (matching the prologue in the first chapter) that once again recounts the Apostate’s death. In Vita Constantini (BHG 369), Gregoras does not draw upon any of the legends about the figure of the first Christian emperor,168 but in his work on Mercurius he emphasises the legend of the posthumous miracle. While providing a compelling outline of Persian history,169 Gregoras portrays a fictional (if original) Julian, including various errors and contradictions in his account.170 In addition to elements drawn from the late-antique tradition, his portrayal is

224  Longing for a distant past influenced by the legends about Basil and Mercurius, and by some personal touches. For example, Gregoras recounts that Julian’s anti-Christian policy was largely successful: The criminal, having outdone all his predecessors in impiety, incurred divine enmity more than anyone else, as is natural, since he renounced the faith of his country and at the same time persuaded all men under Rome’s rule to renounce it.171 Gregory falls into contradiction, however, since in the Elogium Mercurii he also presents the tradition – already attested by pseudo-Amphilochios’ Vita Basilii and, in its first-ever formulation, by Gregory (or. 5.39) – according to which the Apostate postponed his final attack on Christianity because of his involvement in the Persian war. Gregoras describes Christian churches and cities on the verge of destruction, as though to suggest that few people followed the emperor’s example by apostasising.172 Among the cities doomed to be destroyed because of their Christian faith, Gregoras mentions Caesarea,173 Basil’s home city, which was on very poor terms with the rancorous Julian. Likewise, in the immediately following passage (III.4), while echoing Gregory of Nazianzus’ invectives, Gregoras states that it was Basil – during his time in Athens – who foresaw the storm about to hit Christianity and hence admonished the future Apostate.174 In this case, Gregoras glosses over Gregory’s role as a prophet of his fellow student’s evil deeds so as to highlight the importance of Basil, who nonetheless is never explicitly referred to as the Bishop of Caesarea. Perhaps, the author sought to make the legend seem more trustworthy by avoiding the kind of anachronisms that Michael Glykas had already criticised. Indeed, Basil is presented as someone who persuaded his fellow citizens to entreat God, yet without any reference to his ecclesiastical rank.175 Gregoras’ account of the Persian war seems largely independent of previous sources, although at its beginning (III.5) the influence of Gregory and of the hagiographical tradition about Artemius is clearly detectable.176 In Chapter 5, however, we find some clear divergences compared to the fictional Julian of the previous tradition. The emperor is presented very much as a general of the pre-Republican Rome, who, despite finding himself in difficult enemy territory, seeks to avoid an ignominious retreat by arraying an army that includes Celtiberians and knights from Campania.177 Gregoras was a reader not only of Zosimus, but also of Polybius, Diodorus Siculus, and Appian;178 therefore, the vaguely Republican veneer probably derives not from any unknown source, but from the author’s extensive reading. In another work (Rhomaike Historia XVIII.5), Gregoras even portrays himself “as a modern Leonidas”,179 and in the Elogium Mercurii (V.3) we find an image borrowed from Herodotus (VII.226), who employs it precisely with reference to Leonidas: the sky is darkened by Persian arrows – yet what Gregoras stresses here is Julian’s death. In the final scene of his dramatic

Longing for a distant past  225 narrative, the emperor stands alone before divine retribution, which strikes him down mysteriously, to the point of making any investigation as to the causes of his death impossible.180 Gregoras’ reconstruction would also appear to reflect, in addition to Socrates’ influence (III.21.12),181 that of Theodoret (H.E. III.25.5–6), given the focus on Julian’s solitary death.182 The mention of the impossibility of investigating the Apostate’s death instead seems curiously to counterbalance the idea, mentioned in a passage from Libanius (or. 18.274) also quoted by Christian authors,183 that the Persian king Sapor ordered an enquiry because he wished to honour the person responsible for killing Julian.184 According to Libanius, this enquiry’s negative outcome proves that the emperor was killed treacherously, and not by a Persian; according to Gregoras, on the contrary, it proves that the mortal wound was inflicted not by a soldier’s blow, but by divine intervention. It is impossible to establish whether Gregoras’ representation of Julian was also influenced by the concerns typical of his age, in addition to the above-quoted ancient sources. Over the years, the almost complete disappearance of Byzantine domains first in Asia and then, after 1354, also in Europe, led this author to formulate some very pessimistic remarks, and to interpret the history of the Persian wars as a first act of barbarian aggression against civilisation.185 This youthful work of his, however, betrays no such concerns. Gregoras therefore feely draws upon the previous tradition about Mercurius and various other sources in order to develop innovative praise for the saint. From this perspective, the figure of Julian partly differs from what we find in the previous hagiographical tradition as well. Like Gregory of Nazianzus and John Chrysostom, Gregoras presents the annihilation of Christianity as a plan that is postponed to the end of the Persian war, and hence never fully implemented: Julian is not portrayed as a bloodthirsty persecutor, although the hagiographer certainly levels some harsh criticisms against him – for example, the aforementioned verdict drawn from John Chrysostom. While being an admirer of ancient Greek culture,186 Gregoras could not betray the official Byzantine ideology, all the more so in a hagiographical work designed to praise a saint and represent the triumph of Christianity as a victory willed by divine providence. This faith in providence, which the author also displays in Rhomaike Historia,187 may indeed explain the apparently strange choice to exaggerate the temporary success achieved by the Apostate, who first leads almost all Romans to abandon Christianity and then proves a steadfast and combative general in war, even when faced with a difficult situation. The interpretation advanced by Gregoras (and by many Byzantine hagiographers both before and after him) is best encapsulated by f. 409 of codex Gr. 510 from the Bibliothèque nationale de France: a 9th-century manuscript with illuminations illustrating Gregory of Nazianzus’ first invective. In the first illumination, we see Julian triumphally riding a horse before the walls

226  Longing for a distant past of Ctesiphon (corresponding to Chapter 3 of Gregoras’ work); in the second, Christians led by St Basil pray together in Caesarea (as in Chapter 4); in the third, St Mercurius strikes the Apostate dead (as in Chapter 5).188 The fleeting earthly success of the last pagan emperor is contrasted with the humble prayers of the Christians, whom God in the end releases from imminent danger by enabling a deceased saint to perform a posthumous miracle. Just as Gregory of Nazianzus interprets Julian’s reign from the perspective of faith in God rather than in weak mankind,189 so Gregoras regards the Apostate’s failure as being due not to rational causes, but to the mysterious ways of divine providence, according to a verdict that may be taken to exemplify that of Byzantine hagiography as a whole.

Notes 1 See Obolensky (1988, 70–71) and Podskalsky (2000, 142). According to Kaimakamova (2008, 137–140), through his hagiographical works Theophylact sought to foster a shared Orthodox consciousness between Bulgaria and Byzantium. Generally speaking, the Byzantines did not include Slavic saints in their hagiography and, according to Dujčev (1967, 369), Theophylact’s life of Clement of Ohrid BHG 355 is an exception. 2 Dragova (1970, 105–131) analyses Theophylact’s various Bulgarian sources (see also the bibliography in Podskalsky 2000, 140–141 n. 4 and Trovato 2018, 40). Tiberiopolis (Strumitsa in the Middle Ages) may take its name from the transfer into Macedonia of the inhabitants of the only city of ancient Tiberiopolis known to us, which was located in Asia Minor (see Obolensky 1988, 72–73). The tradition about the 15 martyrs may therefore be of Anatolian origin and somehow connected to a letter addressed to Tiberiopolis’ inhabitants by the Apostate, a letter only known to us from a quote by Stephan of Byzantium (Bidez/Cumont 1922, 209). 3 According to Dragova (1970, 113–116) (analysing passages from Chapters 21–26 of Theophylact’s work) and 128–129, this lost passion was a Greek text written in the Thessalonica area in the 840s and later transmitted via a text written in ancient Bulgarian before the year 889 (see also the French summary on p. 130). 4 Concerning Theophylact’s late-antique sources, see Kiapidou (2008, 18–23 and 31–46). Some of Theophylact’s sources are also listed in Blachakos (2008, 388–399). According to Bidez (1981, CLIX), Theophylact further drew upon the Homoean source (see also Bidez 1981, 227–229, 231 and 233–234 concerning various passages from the first section of the work on the martyrs of Tiberiopolis), particularly for Chapters 10, 12 and 13 (see Brennecke 1988, 122, 126, 135– 136 and 153). Alternatively, Theophylact may have drawn some information from Theophanes without quoting him verbatim. For example, the beginning of Chapter 13 (on George’s death in Alessandria) may derive from Theophanes (De Boor 1883, 47), or from Theodoret’s Historia ecclesiastica III.7 (Theophanes’ source), with only some formal variations. The same may apply to the information about the future emperors Valentinian and Jovian towards the end of Chapter 10, which is also found in Theophanes (De Boor 1883, 51). Kiapidou (2008, 40 n. 56) notes a possible allusion to Gregory in Chapter 10 in particular, where – among other things – Theophylact describes the rescuing of the child Julian during the 337 massacre in Constantinople (Kiapidou 2015, 80). Theophanes’ text about this rescue is fragmentary (De Boor 1883, 48), so it is impossible to prove his influence on Theophylact, who may instead depend on Gregory (or.

Longing for a distant past  227 4.91), an author he certainly knew and drew upon in relation to other pieces of information – as we shall later see. 5 For example, in Chapter 8 (Kiapidou 2015, 70–74) Theophylact uses Socrates III.1.13 and III.1.15–16 (and possibly III.1.18 and III.1.20), and Theodoret (Historia Ecclesiastica III.28.2). In addition to these sources, Theophylact draws upon a source very favourable to the Apostate, namely Libanius’ funerary oration (or. 18.14–15), only to redevelop it with an opposite emphasis. For some of the sources of this chapter, see Kiapidou (2008, 20) and Trovato (2014a, 315–317). 6 De Boor (1883, 24 and 48–49). In the Latin translation of Theophanes by Anastasius the Librarian we read “Odyssopolim”, but in his apparatus De Boor (1885a, 85) notes that the codices have “Edissopolim”, 7 Kiapidou (2015, 88). 8 Kiapidou (2008, 22) also does not rule out a conscious alteration. Kiapidou (2008, 43) suggests Theophanes as Theophylact’s source, yet without discussing the problem of the different name of the city in which Dorotheus dies. According to Brennecke (1988, 136 n. 116) Theophanes and Theophylact derive from the Homoean source, yet he does not explain the use of different names. See also Jireček (1897, 71). 9 Kiapidou (2015, 84). 10 Gautier (1980, 315), Spadaro (1980, 33). In the Apologia the Bishop of Moglena is referred to as the Bishop of Edessa in Bulgaria (Gautier 1980, 297; Spadaro 1980, 26): a display of antiquarian precision that bears witness to the author’s erudition and to the effort made by various Byzantine writers to avoid names not attested in ancient texts (on Theophylact see Obolensky 1988, 59). 11 One therefore cannot accept the hypothesis put forth by Livrea (1991, 323), according to whom in Theophanes’ original text and in its Latin translation by Anastasius the Librarian the Edessa mentioned as the site of Dorotheus’ death is the Mesopotamian city of this name. 12 Kiapidou (2015, 78). 13 Indeed, in Chapter 5 (Kiapidou 2015, 64) Theophylact justifies Constantius II by alluding to Gregory (or. 4.37 in Bernardi 1983, 136). 14 Bernardi (1983, 88 and 90). 15 Kiapidou (2015, 70). Other episodes about Julian’s life are also clearly derived from Gregory’s invective: this is the case, for example, with the information (from or. 4.31 in Bernardi 1983, 126) about Gallus’ appointment as Caesar towards the end of Chapter 7 (Kiapidou 2015, 70). 16 For example, the condemnation of the Apostate in Chapter 6 (Kiapidou 2015, 66) would appear to be derived from the Artemii passio (Kotter 1988, 235) and the passion of Dometius BHG 560 (Van den Gheyn 1900, 313). 17 For example, in Chapter 10 the author outlines the Apostate’s initial policy of trying to earn the support of Constantius II’s enemies (Kiapidou 2015, 78), following Socrates III.1.48 (Hansen 1995a, 191) and Gregory or. 21.32 in (Mossay 1980, 178). 18 Kiapidou (2015, 82). 19 Kiapidou (2015, 82). According to Kiapidou (2008, 41–42), the main source for Chapter 11 is Socrates. 20 Kiapidou (2015, 86). In addition to Julian’s cruelty, Theophylact also stresses his hypocrisy, for instance in Chapter 14 (Kiapidou 2015, 90). 21 The name of the city is not given (Theodoret H.E. III.15.1–3 sets this episode in Antioch). 22 Kiapidou (2015, 90). 23 For example, in Chapter 14 the Christians’ suffering and the persecutors’ wickedness are described in heated terms (Kiapidou 2015, 92–94). 24 Kiapidou (2015, 120).

228  Longing for a distant past 25 Kiapidou (2015, 142). 26 See Tartaglia (2016, 16). 27 On Kedrenos and his work, see Tartaglia (2016, 13–66). On the main features of the Zwillingsquelle (which Praechter 1897, 56–57 refers to as the “Zonarassquelle”), see Bleckmann (1992a, 328), according to whom it “zusätzliches profangeschichtliches Material enthielt”. According to Tartaglia (2016, 19), other chroniclers, whose sources have not survived, followed a similar working method. 28 It is unclear whether Theophanes and the Logothete’s Chronicon are his direct sources, or whether he drew upon them indirectly, via Pseudo-Symeon. 29 Tartaglia (2016, 522). 30 Tartaglia (2016, 524–537). 31 Tartaglia (2016, 530). 32 Tartaglia (2016, 531). 33 Tartaglia (2016, 532–534). 34 Chapters 322 and 323 mostly derive from Pseudo-Symeon, while also containing information from other sources, such as George the Monk, Theophanes, the Logothete, and the Zwillingsquelle (see Tartaglia 2016, 532). 35 Tartaglia (2016, 534–536). An analysis of the sources of Kedrenos’ text limited to Chapter 323.3 (Tartaglia 2016, 535–536) confirms his fluctuation between Pseudo-­Symeon (and hence, in most cases, Theophanes – Pseudo-­Symeon’s main source for the period 284–811) and George the Monk. In addition, Kedrenos draws upon the Zwillingsquelle, which according to Patzig (1897, 334) and Praechter (1897, 56–57) can be detected in various sections of his text: for example, the description of Julian’s death. In this case, therefore, Kedrenos would seem to depart both from George the Monk and from Pseudo-Symeon (in Patzig 1897, 337). In the section just before his account of the Persian war, Kedrenos draws upon Pseudo-Symeon: first, via Pseudo-Symeon (Praechter 1897, 54–55), he follows Theophanes (De Boor 1883, 52) as regards the miracle that marks the failure of the plan to rebuild the Temple of Jerusalem; then, again via Pseudo-­Symeon, he follows Chapter 90.6 of the Logothete’s Chronicon (Wahlgren 2006a, 114) in quoting the oracle that promises Julian victory; finally, he would appear to return to Theophanes (De Boor 1883, 53) via PseudoSymeon (Praechter 1897, 55) in reporting the tradition about the miracle of the changing of water into wine (according to Praechter 1897, 56, Pseudo-Symeon’s account of this miracle may derive not from Theophanes, but from the latter’s source). In this case, however, Kedrenos seems to be summarising his source (for example, unlike Theophanes and Pseudo-Symeon, he does not mention Bishop Abgar). Kedrenos then abandons Pseudo-Symeon by describing the Persian war in the same terms as the first part of Chapter 90.3 of the Logothete’s Chronicon (Wahlgren 2006a, 113). With regard to the death of the Apostate, who is mysteriously struck by a spear, Kedrenos’ source would appear to be the Zwillingsquelle (see Bidez 1981, 102–103). But when he describes the dying Julian’s utterance to Christ, his account again coincides – albeit not verbatim – with Chapter 90.3 of the Logothete’s Chronicon (Wahlgren 2006a, 114), from which he diverges once more (possibly by returning to the Zwillingsquelle’s ­tradition – cf. Philostorgius VII.15a) when reporting the Apostate’s words against the “deceiving and lying” gods. 36 Tartaglia (2016, 536; Chapter 323.4). According to Grierson (1962, 41), the inscription on Julian’s tomb is correctly quoted by Zonaras XIII.13 and Kedrenos (whereas in Zosimus III.34 it differs, because what is being reported is only a first draft of the inscription), as both authors personally saw it in Constantinople. Actually, it is more plausible to assume that Kedrenos and Zonaras both depend on the Leoquelle tradition (see Bleckmann 1992a, 386–387). According to Mango (1995, 115), Julian’s epitaph is “bien douteuse”, According to Patzig

Longing for a distant past  229 (1897, 336–337), the anecdote on Jovian (already reported by the Salmasian John of Antioch, but also present in Chapter 91.1 of the Logothete’s Chronicon) is derived from the Zwillingsquelle. 37 See Bleckmann (1992a). According to Cameron (2011, 659–690), Zonaras’ pagan source for Julian was Eunapius via John of Antioch, but his analysis presents a number of errors and misunderstandings (see Trovato 2015, 306–324). 38 Nesselrath (2015b, 138). 39 Dindorf (1870, 187). 40 See Bleckmann (1992b, 167 n. 62). 41 See Bleckmann (1992b, 168). 42 Dindorf (1870, 187). According to Macrides/Magdalino (1992, 129) this defence is not in earnest: “Zonarass criticises even Constantine the Great for his magnificence because he must have imposed heavy taxes to pay for it”. 43 According to Bleckmann (1992a, 342), Zonaras depends on the Zwillingsquelle with regard to Julian’s proclamation as Caesar. 44 Dindorf (1870, 203). 45 According to Bleckmann (1992a, 344 and 1992b, 161), the information about Basilina’s dream may have reached Zonaras via Peter the Patrician and the Leoquelle, like most of the subsequent information about the Apostate (see the analysis in Bleckmann 1992a, 342–392). 46 According to Bleckmann (1992a, 347), this motivation comes from a Christian source: it would therefore represent one of the few exceptions in a narrative derived from the Leoquelle. 47 Dindorf (1870, 204). 48 Dindorf (1870, 205). 49 According to Bleckmann (1992a, 359), this information comes from the Zwillingsquelle. 50 Dindorf (1870, 206). 51 See Bleckmann (1992a, 361). In this scholar’s view (Bleckmann 1992a, 368), another example of the use of Christian sources (in addition to the historical information about the Church under Constantius II’s reign in Dindorf 1870, 208–209) is Constantius II’s repentance on his deathbed for the three following sins: the 337 massacre, his support of Arianism, and Julian’s proclamation as Caesar (Dindorf 1870, 207). 52 See Bleckmann (1992a, 372–373). 53 Dindorf (1870, 210). 54 See Bleckmann (1992a, 374 n. 189). According to Patzig (1897, 333–335), the Zwillingsquelle is Zonaras’ source for the Maris episode (in Dindorf 1870, 212), the description of the temple of Apollo in Daphne (Dindorf 1870, 212), the martyrdom of Eugenius and Macarius (Dindorf 1870, 213), one of the versions of Julian’s death, his last words, his burial, and his funerary inscription (Dindorf 1870, 215). 55 By taking a further leap back in time, Zonaras then mentions Julian’s desire for power in his youth and his search for prophets (Dindorf 1870, 211), echoing the tradition from Theodoret H.E. III.3, also found in George the Monk (in De Boor 1978, 535–536). 56 Dindorf (1870, 211). In accordance with a tendency common to other Byzantine writers (see Chapter I), Zonaras adds Gregory to the list of authors who, like Apollinaris, answered Julian’s challenge. This may be due to a misunderstanding of George the Monk’s account which, after quoting the words Julian used to justify his school edict, introduces a lengthy quote from Gregory’s invectives (De Boor 1978, 542, 2–5). 57 No Artemius of Tarsus is listed in the Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire. The account about him is mentioned without any discussion about its reliability in Robert (1973, 189; on pp. 190–192 he discusses other information

230  Longing for a distant past from Libanius concerning the sanctuary of Asclepius in Aigai), Hellenkemper (1990, 193), Hild/Hellenkemper (1990, 36) and Tobin (2004, 8). According to DiMaio (1988, 253 n. 142), the legend, “unattested in other sources, has the earmarks of a Christian attempt to minimize the Transgressor’s policy of temple restoration” (see also DiMaio 1989, 105). Bidez (1981, 83) points to the opening section of the passion of Artemius BHG 169, which describes Julian inflicting many ills on Christians in Cilicia (Bidez 1913, 167). In fragment 268 Roberto of John of Antioch we read that in Tarsus Julian met Eudaemon, a priest of Asclepius (Roberto 2005a, 452; see Banchich 2009, 231 n. 106). This information may be a trace of a pagan version of Julian’s order to reconstruct the pagan temple in Tarsus. From Libanius’ correspondence we know of one Eudaemone (Eudaemon 2 in Jones 1971), who travelled to Tarsus in 364 in order to visit the sanctuary of Asclepius, but he was an Antiochene orator, not a priest. 58 Dindorf (1870, 212). 59 Dindorf (1870, 213). 60 Dindorf (1870, 214). 61 Dindorf (1870, 215). 62 See Patzig (1897, 335) and Bleckmann (1992a, 385). 63 Dindorf (1870, 215). 64 According to Patzig (1897, 335), by contrast, Zonaras copied Julian’s funerary oration from the Zwillingsquelle (it occurs in the same form in Kedrenos) and then returned to the Leoquelle to trace the Apostate’s psychological portrait. 65 Dindorf (1870, 216). 66 However, it cannot be ruled out that as far as the saying by Julian quoted above is concerned, Zonaras depends on Michael Psellus’ Historia syntomos, as hypothesised by Dželebdžić (2007, 159). 67 Dindorf (1870, 216). 68 Dindorf (1870, 216). 69 According to Bleckmann (1992a, 388–392) (followed by Weber 2000, 47), the prophecy also present in Malalas is derived from a pagan source which, like Ammianus Marcellinus, presumably explained the emperor’s tragic end by invoking the hybris he had displayed towards the god. However, it may be that this tradition – as well as the one about the heavenly inscription seen in Antioch – is derived from the Zwillingsquelle and is of Christian origin, just like the tradition about the last Delphic oracle (see Guida 1998, 389–413). In such cases, it is easier to assume that we are dealing with a Christian source eager to prove that the Apostate’s final defeat was acknowledged by the pagans themselves (cf. Chapter IV). 70 Dindorf (1870, 218). 71 Fr. 270 Roberto. 72 Patzig (1897, 336–337). 73 Dindorf (1870, 217). 74 Bleckmann (1992a, 393). 75 See Bleckmann (1992a, 395). 76 Dindorf (1870, 219). 77 See Afinogenov (1992, 20–23). 78 See Afinogenov (1992, 20): The most important is that Zonarass saw his historical writing as an entirely secular work, totally unrelated to his state as a monk. George, on the other hand, consciously sets forth, at the beginning of his chronicle, aims characteristic of spiritual, dogmatic and edifying literature. Matheou (2016, 50) “Overall, Zonarass presents an impersonal, state focused, and, with a clear understanding of historical change”.

Longing for a distant past  231 79 Mango (1988–1989, 371). On Manasses’ innovations in his choice and presentation of historical material, see Lampsidis (1996, XL–XLV) and Nilsson (2006, 15), according to whom his work is “not a typical Byzantine chronicle” (see also Nilsson 2019, 518–524 and Yuretich 2018, 1–17). See Lampsidis (1988, 97–104) for information about the poet that can be inferred from his chronicle and Magdalino (1997, 161–164) on Manasses’ relationship with the Komnenian court. 80 On this dating, see Lampsidis (1996, XIX and 1988, 104–111). 81 Over 100 manuscripts containing his work are known (see Yuretich 2018, 4), whereas we only have 29 for George the Monk, despite the fact that his work enjoyed considerable popularity compared to other chronicles known from a single manuscript (see Jeffreys 1979, 200). Lampsidis (1996, XLV–XLVII) lists Glykas, Ephrem, and Maximus Planudes among the authors who drew upon Manasses, whose popularity is also attested by a translation in koine Greek (Reinsch 2006, 84). 82 Various hypotheses have been formulated about Manasses and the Leoquelle tradition (see Patzig 1894, 471 and 1896, 26; Gerland 1933, 103; Lampsidis 1996, XLVIII; Roberto 2005a, CLXII; Kiapidou 2009, 66). 83 Lampsidis (1996, 129). As evidence of the relationship between Manasses and the Leoquelle tradition, Patzig (1892, 6) notes that in Byzantine literature we find only one other passage in which the Apostate quotes this Homeric verse (Iliad V.83): fragment 263 Roberto of the Salmasian John of Antioch. 84 Lampsidis (1996, 125). 85 Lampsidis (1996, 128; Yuretich 2018, 106). This scathing definition finds a parallel in Theodoret, Historia religiosa II.14 (Canivet/Leroy-Molinghen 1977, 224). See also Theodoret H.E. III.24.3 (Parmentier 1998, 203). Gregory of Nazianzus partly foreshadows this definition (or. 4.52.3 in Bernardi 1983, 156). In turn, Gregory alludes to a New Testament passage, 2 Peter 2:22. Instead, in v. 2348 he employs the more common term parabates. 86 Lampsidis (1996, 129; Yuretich 2018, 106). In relation to v. 2353, in his critical apparatus Lampsidis mentions, among other authors, George the Monk (De Boor 1978, 535–536 and 539) and Kedrenos 318.1 and 320.2 (Tartaglia 2016, 524–525 and 530), but Manasses may actually have been inspired by Gregory of Nazianzus’ first invective (or. 4.21), in which Julian is accused of rebelling against both God and the emperor (Bernardi 1983, 80). 87 Hansen (1995b, 56). 88 De Boor (1883, 46, 17–20). 89 However, one cannot rule out the influence of George the Monk (De Boor 1978, 536) or Gregory of Nazianzus, who (in or. 4.52) describes baptism in almost the same terms (Bernardi 1983, 156). 90 De Boor (1883, 47). 91 Lampsidis (1996, 129–130; Yuretich 2018, 106). 92 Lampsidis (1996, 130; Yuretich 2018, 106). 93 This is how Lampsidis (1996, XLIX) sums up Manasses’ attitude to history, by referring precisely to vv. 2373–2374 and 2376–2378 on Julian as examples of divine intervention in history. 94 Lampsidis (1996, 130–131). George the Monk in De Boor (1978, 545–546) describes the earthquakes that hit Julian’s tomb in Tarsus, quoting a passage from Gregory of Nazianzus’ or. 21.33 (Mossay 1980, 180). 95 Yuretich (2018, 1). 96 Ephrem was born in the last decades of the 13th century and died between 1323 and 1332 (Lampsidis 1990, X); he used Zonaras as a source for events up to Alexios I (Lampsidis 1990, XL). See also Nilsson (2019, 524–530). 97 Lampsidis (1990, 20). 98 Lampsidis (1990, 21). 99 Lampsidis (1990, 21).

232  Longing for a distant past 100 Lampsidis (1990, 21). Previously, in vv. 466–467, Ephrem had listed the various hypotheses about Julian’s death: he was struck down either by an “Ausonian” (i.e. a soldier from the Roman army) or by barbarians, or by a divine blow. 101 See Lampsidis (1990, XV). 102 See Magdalino (1993, 370–378) on Glykas as a theologian and 381–382 on Glykas as a historian. Concerning the educational purpose of Glykas’ historical work, see Hunger (1978b, 169). Blinded on the orders of the emperor, whose secretary he was, in 1159 following a charge of necromancy (a crime committed by Julian, according to Theodoret and George the Monk), Glykas became a monk and, through his theories about the Eucharist, sparked a debate among Byzantine theologians that raged on almost up until the Fourth Crusade (Angold 1995, 128–131). 103 See Mavromate-Katsougiannopoulou (1984, 95). 104 Magdalino (1993, 382) unfavourably compares Glykas with Zonaras, adding: “his wide reading and compulsive collation of sources sometimes enabled him to make a valuable critical point, as in his discussion of the date of the death of Julian” (there are also comparisons between Zonaras and Glykas on pp. 404–406). 105 Bekker (1836a, 469, see Mavromate-Katsougiannopoulou 1984, 537). 106 See Mavromate-Katsougiannopoulou (1984, 402). 107 Lampsidis (1996, 130). 108 Bekker (1836a, 470). 109 According to Mavromate-Katsougiannopoulou (1984, 538) Glykas may have used an unknown source. 110 Bekker (1836a, 470). 111 De Boor (1978, 543). 112 Bekker (1836a, 471). This correct observation is also found in a scholium to the passage from the oration quoted by Glykas and published in PG 36, 536 (see Fatti 2009a, 253). This scholium has not been included in the modern critical edition of Gregory’s orations (the passage from or. 43.30 discussed in this scholium may be found in Bernardi 1992, 192). 113 Bekker (1836a, 472). 114 Or. 21.33 (Mossay 1980, 180). 115 De Boor (1978, 546). 116 Bekker (1836a, 472). 117 De Boor (1978, 546). 118 Bekker (1836a, 470). 119 Glykas also quotes the Contra Galilaeos in his letters (see Chapter II and Trovato 2012, 268–269 and 278–279), confirming the following remark by Kiapidou (2020, 852): in the case of Michael Glykas we see an author deriving from a body of personal notes material for two works of different genre, letters and historiography, inserting features of the one into the other, not necessarily consciously or intentionally (i.e. in order to form a hybrid text of his own), but rather ­i nevitably, precisely because Glykas, whether he is writing a letter or his chronicle, is at the same time both an epistolographer and a historian. 20 Rosen (2006, 401). 1 121 According to Magdalino (1993, 376–377), “[f]ar from being a naive exponent of popular belief”, Glykas “repeatedly registers his disagreement with what ‘most people’ think” (examples in Magdalino 1993, 377 n. 207). 122 For example, in addition to George the Monk, Glykas (Bekker 1836a, 466) also follows the legend about Athanasius’ foretelling of the emperor’s death, derived from Apophthegmata patrum CPG 5560 (PG 65, 164).

Longing for a distant past  233 123 According to the traditional interpretation, for the period up to 1081 the Synopsis chronike follows the so-called Synopsisquelle, also used by Zonaras (see Bleckmann 1992a, 36–40). By contrast, according to Tocci 2015, 160*, the Chronica (either written or compiled by Skoutariotes: see Tocci 2015, 111*) draws upon a range of sources, including Zonaras. 124 Tocci (2015, 68). 125 Sathas (1894, 56–57). 126 Or. 21.32 (Mossay 1980, 178). 127 On Nikephoros Kallistos’ work and his sources, see Gentz/Winkelmann 1966 (esp. 93–99 on the sources for Book X). According to Winkelmann (1994, 442), Nikephoros’ historiographical work (an attempt to revive a literary genre) is connected to the religious policy of Andronikos II, who restored the traditional Orthodox policy after his father Michael VIII’s promotion of unity with the Western Church. On Julian in Nikephoros, see the detailed analysis of the sources in Nesselrath (2015a, 81–99). 128 Nikephoros’ interest in Gregory is also shown by the fact that he wrote commentaries on his orations (see Sinko 1906, 91–97, Sajdak 1914, 191–198, Browning 1985, 143–153, Maltese 1993, 67, and Somers 2015, 59–70). 129 PG 146, 309. 130 PG 146, 432. 131 Bernardi (1983, 136 and 138). 132 PG 146, 425. 133 Bidez (1960, 188). 134 There are also some exceptions to this hostile tendency: for example, in Chapter 27 Nikephoros describes Julian’s stay in Antioch and praises the literary value of the Misopogon (PG 146, 520), following Sozomen V.19.3 (in Bidez 1960, 223). 135 PG 146, 440. 136 According to Nesselrath (2015a, 84), this is derived from Gregory via Socrates III.23. 137 PG 146, 444.This passage may be based on Philostorgius (see Gentz/Winkelmann 1966, 94; on pp. 185–186 they note that Nikephoros was familiar with Philostorgius via Photius), but Constantius II’s funeral is also described in the second invective (or. 5.17), in a passage explicitly quoted by Nikephoros IX.50 (PG 146, 430). 138 Chapter 3 is devoted to Julian’s open return to paganism; Chapter 4 to his measures against Maiuma and Caesarea; Chapter 5 to the recalling of the bishops exiled by Constantius II; Chapter 6 to Athanasius’ return to Alexandria. 139 PG 146, 465. According to Brennecke (1988, 133 n. 101 and 136 n. 116), Nikephoros’ source for the information about Dometius is difficult to identify, whereas his source for the information about Dorotheus is the same as Theophanes’, namely a Homoean source. With regard to Dorotheus, Gentz/Winkelmann (1966, 95) mention only Theophanes, who indeed writes about him in very similar terms (De Boor 1883, 48), whereas with regard to Dometius they mention the Constantinopolitan synaxarion, thereby hypothesising (as in other cases) the use of hagiographical traditions. 140 See AASS Nov. IV, 21; Gentz/Winkelmann (1966, 95 n. 4). 141 PG 146, 465 (with allusions to or. 4.20 and 4.89 in Bernardi 1983, 114 and 224). Another passage in which Nikephoros (in PG 146, 469) alludes to Gregory or. 4.92 is flagged by Fatti (2009b, 115 n. 56). 142 PG 146, 509. 143 Bernardi (1983, 376). 144 Nikephoros may here also be drawing upon Chapter 8 of Vita Gregorii BHG 723, written by Gregory the Presbyter, who stresses Gregory’s opposition to Julian. Basil and Gregory are also mentioned, along with John Chrysostom,

234  Longing for a distant past

145

1 46 147

148

1 49 150 151

152 153

1 54 155 156 157 158 159 160 1 61 162 163

in Chapter 26, where Nikephoros develops some remarks found in Socrates III.15.10–27 by quoting Gregory or. 43.11 and Basil’s Oratio ad iuvenes CPG 2867. PG 146, 476–477. The almost identical text from Philostorgius VII.4 (Bleckmann/ Stein 2015a, 312) is known via Photius. Nikephoros’ use of the term kakotekhnia may reflect the influence of the Metaphrastic passion of St Theodore the Tyro BHG 1763 (AASS Nov. IV, 44). It cannot be ruled out that Nikephoros was also familiar with the Chronicon paschale, which denounces the Apostate’s clear scheming (PG 92, 741BC). One copy of the Chronicon paschale was present in Constantinople (possibly in the Patriarchal library), where in the 10th century what is now cod. Vat. Gr. 1941, a witness of this work, was copied (see Whitby 1989, xiv). Nikephoros was active in the Patriarchal milieu in Constantinople, so much so that, according to Winkelmann (1994, 441), his work can give us an idea of what books the Patriarchal library owned in the early 14th century. PG 146, 545. For example, towards the end of Chapter 34 the author adds information about the epic poem by the pagan Kallistos drawn from Socrates III.20.14, and in Chapter 35 information about Julian Sabas’ vision drawn from Theodoret H.E. III.24.1–4, alongside the similar report about Didymus from Sozomen VI.2.6– 8. According to Binon 1938, 165, in X.34 Nikephoros also draws upon the Mercurius episode from Pseudo-Amphilochios’ Vita Basilii BHG 250. Nikephoros mentions the two saints on account of their fame (see Nostitz-­ Rieneck 1907, 21–22; according to Baynes 1937, 29, Nikephoros is transmitting a version of the legend close to the original Arian one, but this is most unlikely: see Chapter VI). PG 146, 553. Bleckmann/Stein (2015a, 348). The saying occurs in an identical form in Chapter 90.3 of the Logothete’s Chronicon (Wahlgren 2006a, 114), although variants of it are also attested in several hagiographical texts, such as the passion of Theodoret BHG 2425 (Halkin 1986a, 137–138) and the passion of Eusignius BHG 638 (Klien-Paweletz 2002, 185). PG 146, 553 (cf. the more neutral tone of Philostorgius VII.15 in Bleckmann/ Stein 2015a, 348). Other additions are listed in Gentz/Winkelmann (1966, 98 n. 1). In Chapter 35 Nikephoros describes the natural calamities that accompanied Julian’s reign (based on Sozomen VI.2.13–16), the Christian crowd’s protests against Maximus, and the discovery of the human sacrifice performed by Julian in Carrhae (based on Theodoret H.E. III.26–28). PG 146, 560. A list in Gentz/Winkelmann (1966, 98). See Gentz/Winkelmann (1966, 195–196) and Panteghini (2009, 260–262). See Binon (1937a, 41–44) on the dating. Binon (1937a, 69). See Binon (1937a, 68 n. 2 and 1938, 150). The Vita Basilii BHG 250 and the previous hagiographical tradition about Mercurius and Artemius (comparisons in Binon 1937a, 45–50). On Gregoras as a reader of the ancient historians (including, in addition to Zosimus, also Diodorus Siculus and Appian): Mazzucchi (1994, 210–211). Leone (1994, 35). On Gregoras, Eutropius, and Constantine: Bonamente (1985, 260–263; on p. 263 he argues that Eutropius was familiar to Gregoras via Paeanius’ Greek translation). Leone (1994, 12). See Leone (1994, IX–X) concerning other authors whom Gregoras drew upon for this text on Constantine.

Longing for a distant past  235 164 Binon (1937a, 66–90) lists passages by late-antique Christian authors that would appear to have influenced Gregoras. 165 See Binon (1937a, 74 n. 4) on the influence of Gregory of Nazianzus and Cyril of Alexandrian in a passage in Binon (1937a, 75). 166 Gregoras believes that, as an apostate, Julian is doomed to eternal condemnation, unlike pagan-born persecutors (Binon 1937a, 73). According to Binon (1937a, 72 n. 4), he is influenced by a passage by Gregory (or. 4.56). See also the Metaphrastean passion BHG 1024 (Latyšev 1914, 28) and the passion of Theodoret BHG 2425 (Halkin 1986a, 124). 167 According to Binon (1938, 157), this is instead a sheer coincidence (on p. 174 he notes that historical digressions and “souvenirs” are frequent in Gregoras’ hagiographical works). Guilland (1926, 242) notes the presence of numerous digressions, “comme un ouvrage dans son ouvrage”, in the Rhomaike historia by Gregoras, who was evidently fond of entrelacement. 168 Fusco (1992, 443–444). 169 Binon (1938, 168) gives a positive assessment of Gregoras’ reconstruction of Persian history after the Macedonian conquest in III.1. See also Binon (1938, 156) (according to which Gregoras is seeking more to flaunt his erudition than to fulfil his duties as a hagiographer) and 160. 170 While appreciating the digression on Persian history, Binon (1938, 174), considers Gregoras to be more of an orator than a historian (on pp. 169–173 he points to various errors found in the Elogium Mercurii and on p. 174 to errors found in other hagiographical texts by Gregoras). Bonamente (1985, 261 n. 4) is more generous in his judgement. 171 Binon (1937a, 73). In a speech delivered before the emperor in 1351 (and presented in Rhomaike historia XIX.1.6), Gregoras himself confirmed this sad picture of mass apostasy (PG 148, 1192). Gregoras alludes to John Chrysostom in defining Julian as the most impious of all sovereigns. Binon (1937a, 72 n. 2) mentions In Iuventinum et Maximinum martyres CPG 4349 = BHG 975 (Rambault 2018, 182) as a point of comparison; to this we may add other hagiographical texts by John Chrysostom: De s. hieromartyre Babyla 3 CPG 4347 = BHG 207 (Schatkin 1990, 298), Contra Judaeos et gentiles CPG 4326 (PG 48, 835), Adversus Judaeos V CPG 4327 (PG 48, 900), and Expositio in psalmum CX 4 (PG 55, 285; CPG 4413). 172 Binon (1937a, 73 and 75). 173 According to Binon (1938, 165), the source is Pseudo-Amphilochios. In mentioning Caesarea, Gregoras may be amplifying what Gregory (in or. 4.92 and 18.34) and Pseudo-Amphilochios had written about this Cappadocian city (whose Christian identity Gregoras again stresses in VI.3). 174 Gregoras is alluding to Gregory’s description of the time he and Julian spent together in Athens in or. 5.23–25 (see Binon 1937a, 74 n. 5). 175 Binon (1937a, 79). 176 See Binon (1937a, 76 n. 2 and 78 nn. 1 and 3 and 1938, 162–163) on the sources for this section. 177 Binon (1937a, 83). 178 See Mazzucchi (1994, 209–211) and Bianconi (2008, 339–354). Concerning Appian’s reception in the Palaiologan era (see Amerio 2010, 213–220). The “Celtiberians” are repeatedly mentioned by Appian: in the Iberica, but also in other sections of his historical work, such as the description of the Battle of Cannae in Hannib. 20–24. In the years 1334/5–1341/2 Gregoras contributed to the creation of cod. Laurent. 70, 5, which – among other material – contains various sections of Appian’s work (see Clérigues 2007, 21–43). 179 PG 148, 1156 (see Siniossoglou 2011, 105).

236  Longing for a distant past 180 Binon (1937a, 85). In the remainder of his work, Gregoras briefly mentions Julian when praising Mercurius for having freed the world from impious tyranny and having wiped away “the wicked corrupter of religion” (Binon 1937a, 89). 181 Hansen (1995a, 217). 182 Parmentier (1998, 204). 183 This Libanius passage circulated widely not only on account of the orator’s fame, but also because it was quoted first by Sozomen VI.1.15–16 and then by Nikephoros Kallistos in Historia ecclesiastica X.34. 184 Förster (1904, 356). In or. 24.18 Libanius confirms that no Persian ever boasted of having killed Julian (Förster 1904, 522). Guilland (1926, 186) mentions ­Libanius – along with Ammianus and Zosimus – as a possible source, yet seems to ignore the Byzantine authors prior to Gregoras who had presented Mercurius as Julian’s killer. 185 See Ducellier (1975, 80; on p. 81 concerning a passage from Rhomaike historia XXVIII.23 in PG 149, 176, in which Gregoras laments the barbarisation of Emperor John Kantakouzenos’ court as a result of the presence of Turks, who – among other things – invoked Muhammad during Christian religious ceremonies). 186 See Guilland (1926, 81). In letter 4 Leone = 48 Guilland, addressed to the protonotary Pepagomenos, Gregoras reserves words of great praise for “the wisest among the Greeks” on account of their conception of God, which was close to the Christian one (Leone 1982, 33). 187 See Guilland (1926, 234–236) concerning Gregoras’ faith in Providence. 188 See Weitzmann (1942–1943, 99–117), Fitzgerald (1981, 555–556), Micheli (1999, 17–22) and Conti (2005, 105). 189 See Lugaresi (1993, 18 su or. 5.33).

XI The end Beyond Byzantium

In a civilisation ideologically founded on Christianity, it was impossible to praise Julian as the restorer of polytheism. However, there were some intellectuals who did not follow the official ideology, sometimes in the name of the last pagan emperor. Over the course of the 1,000-year-long history of Byzantium, this phenomenon is attested at the beginning, when paganism had not yet fully disappeared, and at the end, when the Empire was evidently in crisis.1 The historian Zosimus and Neoplatonist Marinus bear witness to the veneration reserved for the Apostate by the last pagans at the end of the 5th century. Marinus (in Vita Procli 36) even goes so far as to speak of “Emperor Julian’s era”:2 a clear statement of religious and cultural identity. Arguably, this era had sought to overcome Christianity and the antithesis between two kinds of “gospels”: one connected to happy tempora measured according to the duration of the reign or life of the various emperors,3 the other connected to Jesus’ gospel, a spiritual revolution perceived to be as lofty and important as the day on which the world was first created. The new era disclosed by Julian’s rise to power raised the Apostate’s dies imperii to a completely different level from that of previous and subsequent emperors. It is therefore regarded as fundamental for world history – just as the incarnation of God’s son is fundamental for Christianity. Apart from these cases, dissimulation would appear to have been the rule among pagans from Theodosius’ reign onwards. Damascius, one of the last Neoplatonist philosophers, downplayed the Apostate’s restoration project and places it on the same level as almost unknown subsequent attempts (fr. 115 Athanassiadi of the Historia philosophica).4 This drastic downplaying was possibly also the result of contingent reasons:5 the Patriarch of Alexandria, Peter Mongus, had made instrumental use of the role played by the pagan Pamprepius in Illus’ uprising against Emperor Zeno in 484; therefore, Damascius sought to shield pagans against possible charges of disloyalty by providing a reductive interpretation of the various failed attempts to restore the ancient religion.6 The same minimisation effort is detectable in a scholium on the aforementioned passage by Marinus (Vita Procli 36), which denies that the Julian

DOI: 10.4324/9781003179818-11

238  Beyond Byzantium of the chronological era adopted by Proclus’ biographer is the Apostate, identifying him with a more reassuring and less disquieting figure by the same name, “lord of Athens by succession”.7 This scholium alludes to the sophist Julian, who was Prohaeresius’ teacher in the first half of the 4th century and is the focus of one of the biographies in Eunapius’ Vitae sophistarum. More specifically, the scholiast makes use of two passages from this work (IX.1.1 and X.3.8), possibly misunderstanding and conjuring up the image of a “lord of Athens” on the basis of the verb “tyrannise”, which is rhetorically used by Eunapius when presenting the sophist Julian in IX.1.1.8 Eunapius’ influence becomes even more evident when we consider the second passage, which concerns the competition for the chair left vacant by the sophist’s death (X.3.8): in both passages the same word, “succession”, is used in the genitive case (diadokhes).9 The anonymous Byzantine scholiast therefore either unconsciously mistook the sophist Julian for a hereditary lord of Athens, or consciously stretched the meaning of Eunapius’ text. In either case, the scholiast evidently displays a (conscious or unconscious) desire to neutralise the subversiveness associated with the era of the Apostate's rule. Traces of a subversive drive more generally associated with the Apostate’s anti-Christian polemic can only rarely be identified in Byzantium10 before a mounting awareness of the Empire’s irreversible decadence took root in the 14th century. During Byzantium’s last century, dominated by fear of Turkish expansionism,11 Julian’s posthumous journey in the Eastern Roman Empire ended with another paradox: New Rome’s decline and fall made it possible to create a dent in the hitherto universal verdict of condemnation concerning Julian’s apostasy.12 The Platonist philosopher Georgius Gemistus Pletho almost seems to embody the fears of generations of Byzantines who for centuries had sought to exorcise the appearance of a new Julian. Only in his case, a comparison with the Apostate perhaps does not spring from polemics designed to discredit an opponent. The charge of neo-­paganism levelled against Pletho by his contemporary would appear not to have been instrumental, but rather the consequence of a conscious act of apostasy akin to Julian’s, which was theorised in the treatise The Laws.13 While being familiar with the thought of the emperor, whom he mentions in a letter,14 Pletho significantly differs from late-antique Neoplatonists15 and from Julian,16 although a degree of proximity between the two can be detected in certain specific aspects.17 The comparison drawn between the Apostate par excellence and Pletho in a letter written by the Patriarch of Constantinople, Gennadios II, around the years 1454–145618 therefore does not seem wholly inappropriate. After the philosopher’s death, a comparison with Julian was explicitly formulated not only by Pletho’s detractor, Scholarios, who thus justified the burning of The Laws in the letter just mentioned, as well as by other critics,19 but also by an anonymous admirer. This constitutes a very important novelty, since the comparison with the Apostate is not made as an insult. Someone anonymous20 penned a harsh indictment of Scholarios,

Beyond Byzantium  239 which he put into the deceased philosopher’s mouth. In this text Pletho accuses his rival of having set fire, out of envy, to a book he was unable to refute: “Being unable to respond […] like those who had refuted the writings by Porphyry and Julian, he burned the work, possessed by envy and releasing the venom he has always cultivated against me”.21 This complaint completely reverses one of the main Byzantine tendencies: one’s opponent is no longer accused of being a “new Julian”; on the contrary, he is compared to Julian’s enemies. This parallel between the two apostates is also found in the account which has reached us concerning the day of Pletho’s death: Monday, 26 June of the fifteenth induction (i.e., 1452), according to the annotations left by his admirers in a codex from Salamanca (Salmanticensis M. 15), in which the philosopher is described as a “good teacher”, and in codex Gr. 495 from the Bayerische Staatsbibliothek.22 The hand responsible for the annotation in the latter codex is by Demetrios Raoul Kavakes,23 a Byzantine exile to Italy who was a member of Cardinal Bessarion’s entourage and a great admirer both of Pletho and of Julian – so much so that in an annotation to the Apostate’s In solem he calls himself a “worshipper of the Sun from his adolescence”.24 The date of 26 June 1452 has been regarded as unreliable for a number of reasons,25 but it was certainly widely accepted among the philosopher’s admirers. The Apostate was mortally wounded on 26 June 363, which was recorded as the day of his death by Socrates (III.21.18).26 If the philosopher really committed suicide, as has recently been hypothesised,27 then it cannot be ruled out that Pletho consciously chose to die on the same day as Julian. Alternatively, an admirer of Julian and Pletho such as Kavakes may have sought to draw a parallel between the two figures he appreciated, even at the cost of falsely promoting 26 June as the date of Pletho’s death.28 Whether Pletho killed himself or died a natural death, the gloomy parallel involving his date of death on the eve of the Eastern Roman Empire’s fall would appear to confirm the close connection between the last pagan empire and Constantinople, the city where he was born and in which he was buried. The importance of the date of 26 June for Pletho’s followers and disciples is confirmed by Bessarion. After 1453 he took advantage of the prestige and power he derived from his status as a cardinal of the Catholic Church to save as much as he could of the Eastern Roman Empire’s heritage.29 From a cultural perspective, he put together a book collection that in terms of its breadth and variety was as representative of the Byzantine world as could possibly be: his was a “holistic vision of the Greek heritage”30 and, significantly, his collection also included one of the most important manuscripts of Julian’s works.31 Bessarion decided to donate it to Venice, which he described as “another Byzantium”, and to this day it is preserved as the founding core of the Marciana Library, the only institution of the Republic of Venice which has never ceased to exist. In 1468 the Cardinal entrusted his book collection to the Venetian ambassador to Rome, after signing the

240  Beyond Byzantium donation deed in May. The day chosen for the change of ownership was 26 June:32 this, too, seems unlikely to be a coincidence, considering that it was the day marked for a crucial step for Bessarion and his effort to preserve the cultural heritage of his lost country, to which he had devoted his entire life. However, to the very end, the Cardinal sought to save more than just Byzantium’s cultural legacy. In 1472, the year of his death, he was to play an ambiguous role in the marriage between his protégée Zoe Palaiologina and Ivan III in Russia. In this case, the Pope harboured the illusion that Zoe, the last emperor’s niece, who had been raised in Italy, could promote the reunification of the Russian Orthodox with Rome. What in fact happened was that Zoe abandoned Catholicism in Russia, so through this marriage Bessarion de facto gave Muscovy the chance to latch on to the Byzantine imperial tradition, thereby reinforcing the last bastion of Orthodoxy.33 While for a Greek audience, he presented himself as a Hellenic, it is notable that for a Latin audience, and in Latin, he not only emphasised his role as a cardinal of the Roman Church, but sometimes also played down his Greekness.34 Likewise, Bessarion must have been aware of the symbolic value of the date of 26 June for Pletho’s admirers, including Kavakes, who was living in Rome under his protection – although he made sure to conceal this awareness from his non-Greek interlocutors. Kavakes claimed that Bessarion in Rome had confessed to him his vast admiration for the neo-pagan philosopher, whom he regarded as the wisest Greek since Plotinus’ day.35 The Cardinal had already voiced such feelings in his letter of condolence to Pletho’s son, which was strewn with praise: for example, it described Pletho as Greece’s wisest son after Plato (and Aristotle), and as the crowning glory of the Greek world.36 On 26 June 1468, the day of the donation of the “national Greek book collection”37 to the Republic of Venice, we thus catch the last glimpse of Julian’s ambiguous presence in Byzantine civilisation through Pletho’s admirers.38 Bessarion accelerated the procedure to put his book collection into safe hands through his donation to Venice because, early in 1468, Pope Paul II had disbanded – with the charge of paganism – Pomponius Laetus’ Roman Academy,39 one of the centres of Italian Humanism. After Bessarion’s death, Pomponius himself was to celebrate Julian for the first time in over a millennium. He openly describes the emperor as a “hero” in Romanae Historiae Compendium, a work which became very popular in the 16th century, following its first posthumous edition in 1499. Pomponius only fleetingly mentions Julian’s religious choices in two passages, yet seeks to shield the emperor from all criticism by inserting a condemnation of his apostasy, as though forced to do so out of fear of ecclesiastical censorship, and stressing that no Christian blood was spilled. Most notably, Pomponius recalls the premonitory dream in which Julian’s mother saw him as a new Achilles. His

Beyond Byzantium  241 source, namely Zonaras (cf. Chapter X), is the only ancient or medieval author to mention this dream,. Pomponius therefore consciously selects from a Byzantine source what is functional to his praise of the Apostate, while omitting all criticism.40 Pomponius’ praise is the first in a long series of positive appraisals that intensified during the 19th century and which has continued down to the present day.41 From the perspective of a faith in progress typical of the Enlightenment, Diderot describes Julian as “baromètre pour les progrès de l’esprit philosophique en France”;42 however, the situation is actually more complex than his words may suggest. Especially in publications intended for mass circulation, “medieval” perspectives on the Apostate endured well beyond the fall of Constantinople not only in the Orthodox cultural sphere, but also in Western Europe after the Enlightenment.43 It would likewise be possible to refer to other examples of authors who, as late as the 20th century, associate Julian with human sacrifices and the killing of non-existent martyrs.44 But such examples coexist with a wave of pro-Julian narratives, which over the past two centuries has proven so strong that even Pope Benedict XVI, in his encyclical Deus Caritas est, which is to say in an official document of the Church, displays no ill feelings towards the Apostate.45 Likewise, the appearance of an explicit reassessment of Julian in the work of Pomponius Laetus, while no doubt reflecting the Renaissance’s cultural atmosphere, is also one of the long-term outcomes of the conscious choice of Italian “medieval” communes to look up to the ancient Roman Republic, and hence to the pre-Lombard past of the Italian peninsula. This praising of the Roman past, in either implicit or explicit contrast to the period of barbarian invasion and domination, could also be extended to those emperors who in medieval hagiography were condemned as persecutors of Christianity. The anti-Julian wave of the Middle Ages was therefore associated, in the Italy of communes and the late medieval period, with what can be described as a pro-Roman tendency which foreshadowed and paved the way for the re-evaluation of the Apostate. This tendency clearly emerges in the Divine Comedy, where no Roman emperor is placed in Hell, which instead houses several popes. The rediscovery of Ammianus Marcellinus’ History in the 15th century is another leading factor behind Pomponius Laetus’ explicitly pro-Julian stance. Ammianus portrays the Roman Empire as a fortress besieged by barbarians, and the Apostate as one of its most valorous defenders. Significantly, at the beginning of the Julian section of his work, Ammianus (XXVI.4.5) presents the Roman world as characterised by the din of war trumpets and by the incursions of numerous barbarian peoples from Europe, Africa, and Asia; and according to Ammianus (XXII.9.1), among Julian’s many successes one should include securing the Roman borders, which during his lifetime no barbarian had dared cross. Pomponius, who often quotes the ancient historian word-for-word, also borrows this aspect of his praise for the Apostate.46 Already Petrarch had combined admiration for Imperial Rome – expressed in De gestis Cesaris – with very explicit

242  Beyond Byzantium anti-barbarian rhetoric (for example, in Canzone all’Italia); but this aspect had become even more deeply felt in Italian culture after the wars that, between 1494 and 1559, made Italy a battleground for the Spaniards, Landsknechte, Swiss, and French. Thus, towards the end of his Prince, Machiavelli calls for a liberator to free Italy from “barbarian acts of cruelty and insolence” and from “barbarian rule”, while (in Istorie fiorentine I.4), idealising Theodoric as he who “contained within their borders […] all barbarians” and freed Italy “from many barbarian invasions”. This oft-repeated call was evidently deemed to be an effective slogan. The men of letters of this period were therefore often influenced by Ammianus, and an anonymous reader of a copy of the 1500 edition of the Romanae Historiae Compendium annotated only one sentence from the Julian chapter: the above-mentioned statement about the inviolability of the Roman Empire’s borders during the Apostate’s lifetime47 – confirming the widespread attention given to this topic during the Renaissance. During the Palaiologan period, Byzantine men of letters found themselves in a somewhat similar situation to that of Italian scholars during the Renaissance. For example, Nikephoros Gregoras paid close attention to the comparison between Greekness and barbarism.48 However, in addition to the more “medieval” character of Palaiologan culture following the hesychasts’ victory, there are other significant differences that account for the lack of a Byzantine counterpart to Pomponius. First of all, an important role is played by Gregory of Nazianzus and John Chrysostom’s considerable popularity and hence of their polemics against the emperor, whereas in Latin Christendom no late-antique author had attacked him with such virulence. Julian’s attempt at a pagan restoration had given rise to greater tensions in the eastern part of the Empire, which was the more Christianised one. Moreover, in the case of late-antique Latin historians such as Eutropius and Ammianus, praise of the Apostate does not translate into glorification of his anti-Christian policies. For although these authors are pagans, they do not openly criticise the new religion; their representation of Julian as a valorous emperor and a defender of Rome against barbarian invasions was therefore easier to accept than that of the Greek historian Zosimus, who attributed the decadence and barbarisation of the Empire to its rejection of the traditional religion, and hence praised Julian by contrasting him with the impious and revolutionary Constantine. Besides, the other Greek historians recounting the last pagan emperor’s reign were Christians; so it was harder for the Byzantines to retrieve a positive image of Julian from Zosimus than it was for Pomponius on the basis of Ammianus and Eutropius. Instead of accepting a view of cultural history as an ineluctable march forward, in which Byzantium’s role is simply to preserve the Apostate’s literary works and then pass them on to the Renaissance, it is perhaps more intriguing to envisage the alternation of several possible options destined to disappear, slip into the background, or gain circulation, depending not only on the cultural atmosphere of each epoch, but also on specific contingent

Beyond Byzantium  243 factors – such as the divergence just mentioned between Latin and Greek late-antique authors when it comes to their attitude towards the Apostate. From this perspective, the Byzantines’ imaginary Julian was unique and could not be reproduced after the fall of the Eastern Roman Empire. The history of the Apostate’s posthumous reception in the Latin medieval world and in modern Europe from the Renaissance onwards is fascinating because of the different outlooks and cultural orientations it reveals49 – but even more so is its reception in Byzantium. Only in that civilisation could Julian be seen, from so many perspectives (documented in this book), according to three profiles: as a legitimate emperor of the Roman res publica, which was still in existence; as the author of works written and transmitted for generations in a language which was still used by men of letters, the Church, and the State administration; and finally – and most notably – as the declared enemy of Christianity, the religion which throughout the millennium in which the Empire continued to exist constituted an inextricable unity with it.50

Notes 1 Mistrust in the traditional ideology was one of the reasons why several Byzantines chose to abandon Orthodoxy. Significant in this respect is the question of why God allowed the Byzantine Empire to fall into a state of neglect that was addressed to Gregory Palamas in 1354 (Philippidis-Braat 1979, 145). Some of the intellectuals most aware of Byzantium’s crisis (such as Demetrios Kydones, Isidore of Kiev, and Bessarion) turned to the Church of Rome; Pletho instead abandoned Christianity altogether. 2 Saffrey/Segonds (2001, 41). 3 See Mazzarino (1973, 154–158) on the antithesis between the two gospels. The beginning of a new era in the Classical world was often connected to the concept of a new beginning: for example, some eras were connected to the liberation of a city (Hannah 2005, 147). See Wilson (1996, 37): “The most interesting, but not necessarily the most widely publicised, indication of pagan sentiment is found in Marinus’ Life of Proclus […] as if the accession of the apostate were regarded as the start of a new era”. According to Di Branco (2006, 157), this was envisaged as a kind of Athenian era. 4 Athanassiadi (1999, 276). 5 According to Von Haehling (1980, 95 n. 95), placing Julian on the same level as someone like Lucius or Flavius Zeno – who, according to Damascius, imitated Julian’s project of polytheistic restoration – must have struck pagans as a farce. 6 See Von Haehling (1980, 94–95). On Damascius, see the different interpretation provided by Di Branco (2006, 178–179). On Julian and the last Neoplatonist philosophers more generally, see Célérier (2013, 435–482). 7 Saffrey/Segonds (2001, 47). 8 Giangrande (1956, 59). 9 Giangrande (1956, 67–68). 10 For example, in the early 12th-century satirical dialogue Timarion (see Kaldellis 2012, 275–287), in Chapters 27 and 29 Christians are called “Galilaeans” ­(Romano 1974, 74 and 75) – an evident allusion to Julian’s polemic. 11 A symbolic date is 1354, the year of the first Turkish conquest in Europe (Gallipoli), a crucial event in Byzantine and Balkan history (see Nicol 1979, 121 and

244  Beyond Byzantium

12

13

14 15 16

17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

25 26 27 28

1996, 163). A letter which Demetrios Kydones addressed to Bishop Simon Atumano in 1364 warns of the risk of Constantinople falling into Turkish hands and hence of “barbarian” attacks on Italy and Germany (Loenertz 1956, 128; concerning Kydones’ letters on the Turkish peril, see Ryder 2010, 154–155). However, as early as the first half of the 14th century, Theodore Metochites “was the first Byzantine intellectual on record to regard the Empire as just another ­political entity and to envision its impending collapse”, according to Ševčenko (1984, 149). For example, in the second half of the 14th century, the former emperor John Kantakouzenos repeated the traditional criticism of evoking the attempt to rebuild the Temple of Jerusalem (Contra Mahometem disputatio II in Förstel 2005, 310). According to Hladký (2014), the paganism charges levelled at Pletho were unfounded; however, I tend to agree with the conclusions reached by Siniossoglou (2017, 649), according to whom Pletho had “a life-experience and intellectual thought-world at odds with Christianity that was ostensibly in a dormant state since Julian’s time”. Mohler (1942, 458–460). See Siniossoglou (2011, 18–19, 42, 165, 185, 190–192, 216, 230 and 262). Generally speaking, Pletho distinguishes himself from Julian in two aspects: philosophical rationalism and intolerance towards Christianity (see Siniossoglou 2017, 648 and 652). Furthermore, regarding ancient Greece and Rome, Pletho preferred the former, whereas Julian laid claim to both, albeit with some fluctuations (see Bouffartigue 1992, 662–664). See Hladký (2014, 170–172, 175–176, and 179) and Siniossoglou (2011, 198, 236, 263, and 268). Jugie (1935, 152). See Trovato (2013, 166) and Monfasani (2002, 270), according to whom in a letter Theodore of Gaza “attacked Pletho obliquely by criticizing the followers of Celsus and Julian who used philosophy to subvert religion”. According to Bacchelli (2007, 144), the author is probably Demetrios Raoul Kavakes; according to Siniossoglou (2011, 147), it is Kavakes or Michael Apostoles. Alexandre (1858, 410). Annotations published in Dain (1942, 8 and 10). Monfasani (2005, 459–461) has suggested 1454 as the year of Pletho’s death (a hypothesis rejected by Blanchet 2008, 178 n. 44). This annotation has been attributed to Kavakes by Monfasani (2005, 459) and Bacchelli (2007, 143 n. 39). Bacchelli (2007, 134–135). Concerning Kavakes, see Lamers (2015, 44–45) and Bacchelli (2007, 129–187), esp. pp. 156 and 158 about Julian’s influence on him (but see also p. 161 on his private notes, in which he seems to distance himself from some of the emperor’s statements, in one case with a polemical tone). See Monfasani (2005, 459–463). Contra Blanchet (2008, 178, n. 44). The pre-Metaphrastean Vita Athanasii BHG 185 also gives the date of 26 June (PG 25, CCXLIV). See Blum (1988, 33–35). This hypothesis seems more likely: as already noted, the information about the date of Pletho’s death is only recorded in manuscript annotations by his followers, and not in any works intended for public circulation. Pletho’s opponents, who were eager to stress any negative aspect of the philosopher’s teaching and life, do not mention the remarkable coincidence between the date of his death and that of the Apostate’s death, which might lend support to the hypothesis that the date in question was invented by Pletho’s followers. Concerning the issue of the date of the philosopher’s death (see Trovato 2013, 165–173).

Beyond Byzantium  245 29 For example, see his letters (30–31 Mohler) on the need to preserve the Greek cultural heritage (Cattaneo 2020, 107–109). See Lamers (2015) concerning Byzantine exiles in Italy and their self-representation as heirs of the ancient Hellenes, in place of traditional Byzantine claims to the heirship of ancient Rome. 30 Lamers (2015, 150). 31 Cod. Gr. Z. 366 (=919) of the Marciana Library. 32 The deed of transfer has been published by Labowski (1979, 188–189). 33 See Ronchey (2006, 368–370 and 376–379) on the role played by Bessarion in this wedding. 34 Lamers (2015, 116). 35 Bacchelli (2007, 149–150). 36 This and other praise for Pletho may be found in Ep. 22 Mohler (Cattaneo 2020, 95). 37 See Zorzi (1987, 47) for this definition of Bessarion’s book collection. 38 26 June became a national celebration in Venice (see Renier Michiel 1827, 115), in honour of the saints of that day: John and Paul, martyrs under Julian. On 26 June 1656, with the Battle of the Dardanelles, the Venetians inflicted “the worst naval defeat the Turks could remember since Lepanto” (Setton 1981, 182–183). 39 See Zorzi (1987, 80–82). 40 On Julian and Pomponius (see Trovato 2002–2003, 799–836). 41 See Bouffartigue (1981, 84), concerning the “modification radicale” of the emperor’s posthumous fate in the 19th century, when he lost “sa position d’éternel accusé”, as “les prises de position en sa faveur cessent d’être subversives”. 42 See Boch (2013, 503–687) concerning Diderot and the French Enlightenment thinkers’ opinion on Julian. 43 See Trovato (2009, 537–538 n. 53). 44 See e.g. Martelli (1981, 322) and Quacquarelli (1986, 17–18 and 42). 45 See Trovato (2010–2011, 18–19). 46 Trovato (2002–2003, 827). 47 On c. K ii recto, the annotator writes: “Imperante Juliano, populi Romani hostes intra suos fines semper tenuerunt” (the annotated copy of the 1500 edition printed by Bernardino de Vitali in Venice is held in Venice: Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana, Misc. 1056). 48 See Ducellier (1975, 80). 49 As far as British culture is concerned, see e.g. Smith (2020, 223–285). 50 In the Orthodox civilisations of “Byzantium after Byzantium”, traces of the Byzantine image of Julian survive, of course: for example, one hagiographer referred to a Romanian prince as a “new Julian” (see Pippidi 2001, 158), while a Russian czar received regalia portraying, among other subjects, St Mercurius striking the Apostate (see Tchentsova 2020). However, the Third Rome and the Romanian principalities were not the Roman res publica, so their Julian was not the multifaceted and complex one of the Byzantines.

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List of Abbreviations

AASS Acta Sanctorum, Antverpiae (later Bruxelles) 1643-. AB «Analecta Bollandiana». BHG  F. Halkin, Bibliotheca Hagiographica Graeca, Tom. I-III, Bruxelles, Société des Bollandistes, 1957. BHG Auct.  Halkin, François, Novum Auctarium Bibliothecae Hagiographicae Graecae, Bruxelles, Société des Bollandistes, 1984. BHL  Bibliotheca Hagiographica Latina antiquae et mediae aetatis. Tom. I-II, Bruxellis, Ediderunt Socii Bollandiani, 1898–1901. BHO  Bibliotheca Hagiographica Orientalis, Bruxellis, Ediderunt Socii Bollandiani, 1910. BS Bibliotheca Sanctorum, Roma, Città Nuova. BZ «Byzantinische Zeitschrift». CHAD Catholicisme hier aujourd’hui demain. CHAP  P. Van Nuffelen – L. Van Hoof (eds.), Clavis historicorum antiquitatis posterioris An Inventory of Late Antique Historiography (A. D. 300–800), Turnhout, Brepols, 2020. Costantino I  Costantino I. Enciclopedia Costantiniana sulla figura e l’immagine dell’imperatore del cosiddetto editto di Milano 313–2013, vol. 2, Roma, Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 2013. CPG Clavis Patrum Graecorum, Tournhout, Brepols, 1974–1998. CPL Clavis Patrum Latinorum, Tournhout, Brepols, 1995³. DHGE Dictionnaire d’Histoire et de Géographie Ecclésiastiques. DOP «Dumbarton Oaks Papers». EC  E nciclopedia cattolica, Citta del Vaticano, Ente per l’Enciclopedia cattolica e per il libro cattolico, 1948–1954. EEBS «Ἐπετηρὶς Ἑταιρείας Βυζαντινῶν Σπουδῶν». JOB «Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik». LTK Lexicon für Theologie und Kirche. PG Patrologia Graeca, Paris, J.-P. Migne, 1857–1866. PL Patrologia Latina, Paris, J.-P. Migne, 1878–1890.

306  List of Abbreviations RE  Realencyclopädie der klassischen Altertumswissenschaft, Stuttgart, 1893–1980. REB «Revue des Études byzantines». RSBN «Rivista di studi bizantini e neoellenici». TM «Travaux et Mémoires».

Index

Note: Page numbers followed by “n” denote endnotes. Abgar (Bishop) 125n204 Abudemius 179 Acts of St Mercurius 132, 145n53 Aemilianus 50, 55, 57, 77n80, 94, 95, 183, 187, 188; passion of 185 Agathias 24, 122n157; Historiae 32n9 Alamundaros 100 Alexander the Monk 153, 182 Alexios Komnenos 10, 26–27 Ammianus Marcellinus 33n19, 65, 85n169, 230n69, 241, 242 Anastasius Sinaita 3, 6, 18n66 Andreas Lopadiotes 29–31; Lexicon Vindobonense 29, 30 Andrew of Crete 7, 128n230 Andronikos II Palaiologos 223 Anonymus Florentinus 29 anti-Christian actions 57 anti-Christian cultural policies 23 anti-Christian measures 64 anti-Christian mime 190n28 anti-Christian plans 213 anti-Christian polemic 238 anti-Christian policy 1, 39, 52, 59, 67, 68, 95, 97, 100, 102, 105, 109, 131, 178, 192n40, 200, 224, 242 anti-Christian riots 52 anti-Christian school legislation 222 anti-Christian treatise 100, 125n202 anti-Christian violence 73n10 anti-Julian wave 241 Antiochene chroniclers 60–65 anti-pagan acts of provocation 75n48 anti-pagan polemical literature 156 anti-pagan polemics 92 anti-pagan zeal 74n39 Apologia contra Arianos 24

Apophthegmata patrum 127n228, 128n228, 130 Arianism 1, 51, 197, 218 Aristotle 27 Artemii passio 153–159, 161, 166n43, 166n44, 170n71, 171n75, 219 Artemius 40, 58, 75n48, 77n71, 181; intervention in favour of Eugenius and Macarius 167n46; Julian against 153–156; passion of 166n41, 166n42; passions of 102; sacred images 168n66 Athanasius of Alexandria 24, 53, 130 Atticus of Constantinople 191n31 Bahram V 116n95, 117n95 Barlaam of Calabria 11 basileus 60, 185 Basil of Ancyra 181 Basil the Great 1, 2, 9–10, 61, 69, 113n55, 114n60, 114n62, 133, 142n37, 173n86, 224 Benedicta 103, 104 Bessarion 239, 240 BHG 33e 185 BHG 169 102, 153, 154 BHG 560 17n57, 62, 68, 81n122, 97, 115n79, 116n88, 145n48, 180, 185, 186, 205n32, 227n16 BHG 561 97, 185, 186 BHG 561a 185, 186 BHG 640e 183, 186, 177n128, 194n78 BHG 1023 41, 99, 116n95, 117n95, 117n96, 117n102, 119n120, 129 BHG 1024 2, 14n18, 14n21, 41, 99, 116n95, 117, 186, 235n66 BHG 1024e 186 BHG 1430 115n77, 186n6

308 Index BHG 1768 135, 148n69, 148n70, 148n71, 148n73, 148n74, 221 BHG 2126 102, 113n55, 120n140, 165n33, 165n37, 193n66 BHG 2127 102, 113n55, 120n137, 120n141, 165n33, 193n66 BHG 2133 187, 189n13 BHG 2248 39, 95, 112n49, 189n7 BHG 2250 39, 95, 112n49, 112n50, 189n7 BHG 2425 17n57, 39, 66, 81n122, 86n189, 86n196, 87n198, 114n75, 129, 190n28, 234n51, 235n166 Bishop of Constantinople 134 Bishop of Edessa 227n10 Bishop of Moglena 227n10 Bulgarian texts 165n34 Buzandaran Patmut’iwnk’ 137n4 Byzantine Christendom 152 Byzantine chroniclers 88n213 Byzantine chronicles 173n89, 215; Julian representation in 43; studies on 46n17; tradition 213, 214 Byzantine civilization 26, 240; Christianity as ideological foundation of 31 Byzantine culture 23, 178 Byzantine exorcism 109 Byzantine hymnography 153 Byzantine imperial tradition 240 Byzantine literature 3, 160 Byzantine tradition 93, 123n170, 140n27; development in 130; of hagiographical texts and chronicles 45 Byzantium, epithets in 68 Caligula 115n76 Callistus 129 Capitolinus 112n38 Carrhae, human sacrifices in 109 Christian church, destruction of 71 Christian fundamentalism 20n102 Christianity 9, 10, 66, 114n60; after war, Julian's plans to destroy 128n228; Apostate as enemy of 12; civilisation ideologically founded on 237; as divine religion 57; enemies of 68, 69; history of 210; as ideological foundation of Byzantine civilization 31; issue of triumph 124n189; martyrdom for 53; mass conversion to 207n54; persecution against 58; polemical passages against 23; vicissitudes of 43; victory of 151

Christophilopoulou A. 81n125 Christ statue in Paneas 156 Chronicle 170n69 chronicles, black legend in 104–109 Chronicon 196–200 Chronicon paschale 38, 131, 132, 234n145 Chronographia 104, 106, 123n173, 123n174 Chronological History 63 Chrysippus of Jerusalem 148n69 Church of the Holy Apostles in Constantinople 198 Clementianus 104 Column of Julian 22n126 Commentariolus Byzantinus 24 Compernass J. 191n31 condemnation 91–94 Constantine I 11, 21n115, 23, 25, 26, 33n22, 38, 40, 151, 157, 158, 167n58, 213; Julian against 153–156 Constantine V 7, 26, 108, 140n27, 176n106, 200 Constantine VI 10 Constantine VII 4, 12, 24, 25, 160, 176n110 Constantine IX Monomachus 208n88 Constantine Akropolites 136 Constantine Manasses 44, 45, 218, 219, 231n82 Constantinople 41, 62, 65, 69; Church of the Holy Apostles in 198; fall of 92; saint invented for glory of patriarchate of 58–60 Constantinopolitan Synaxarion 5, 42, 46n12, 92–97, 102, 104, 129, 160, 178–183, 185, 188, 233n139 Constantius Chlorus 157–160, 175n95, 175n96, 175n100 Constantius II 1–3, 24, 25, 42, 52–54, 63, 67, 82n136, 86n194, 87n209, 92, 94, 105, 113n55, 115n76, 127n218, 131, 141n30, 154–156, 174n95, 178, 189n6, 202, 211, 214, 215, 217, 218, 220; accusations against 168n62; death of 70; Julian war against 100 Copres 98, 120n135, 182 Cyriacus: Greek passion of 164n19; Hebrew words 163n13; legend of 151–153; passion of 163n11 Cyril of Alexandria 11, 26, 31, 168n65; Contra lulianum 11, 219 Cyril of Heliopolis 57, 95 Cyril of Jerusalem 178, 189n10

Index  309 Damascius 237 Demetrios Drimos 23 Demetrios Kydones 244n11 Dianius (Bishop) 74n39 Didymus of Alexandria 130 Diocletian 38, 115n76 Dionysius Periegetes 29 distortion 2, 3, 12, 38, 39, 70, 114n74, 172n82; historical 160; negative 54; polemical 214 Dometius 62, 97, 115n79, 180, 183, 186, 189n6; texts on 185 Dometius the Phrygian 184 Dorotheus of Tyre 58–60, 80n115, 105, 186; hagiographical texts on 39 Ecumenical Council of Chalcedon 93 Egyptian traditions 147n60 Egypt, legend of Mercurius in 134 Elpidius 181 Emperor Zeno 9 Ephrem 218, 231n96 epic passion 38, 39 Epimachus 184 Epiphanius: Historia Tripartita 88n220 Epitome of Ecclesiastical Histories 70–72, 105–108, 196 Eugenius 101, 102, 113n55, 154; Artemius intervention in favour of 167n46; passions of 193n66 Eunapius 23, 27, 32n4, 65; Vitae sophistarum 238 Eupsychius of Caesarea 120n135, 180, 183, 191n31 Eusebius (Bishop) 113n55 Eusebius of Caesarea 59 Eusebius of Nicomedia (Bishop) 214 Eusebius of Samosata 130, 132, 141n34, 187, 189n13 Eusignius 40, 157–160, 180; passion of 129, 159, 173n84, 186 Eustathius of Thessalonica 29, 36n65; Commentarii 29 Eustochius of Antioch 174n95 Eutropius 61, 63–65, 84n160, 223, 242 Euzoius 51, 65–66 Excerpta Constantiniana 27 Excerpta de Legationibus 32n4 Excerpta Salmasiana 65 exorcism 16n49 fifth-century Church historians 54–58 first-degree Epitome B 197–198

First Syriac Novel 119n120 Flacitus, Bishop of Antioch 66 Galilaeans 68, 98, 154, 156, 211 Gallus 42, 46n12, 70, 71, 88n19, 107, 154, 161, 167n54, 187, 212, 214, 227n15 Gaza: Hilarion fled from 110n5; pagans of 91 Gelasius of Caesarea 53, 125n200 Gemellus 181 Gennadius II, Patriarch of Constantinople 25, 238 George of Cappadocia 30, 55, 56 George of Trebizond 27 George the Monk 44–45, 107–109, 126n210, 127n223, 128n231, 160, 176n115, 197, 212, 217–219, 228n35, 231n81; innovation compared to Epitome 127n218; transmission of anecdote 111n34 Georgios Scholarius 25, 238–239 Georgius Gemistus Pletho 25, 27, 238–240, 244n13, 244n16, 244n28 Glykas M. 6, 40, 45, 138n18, 219–220, 224, 232n119; Chronicle 170n69 Golgotha Cross 151 Gordian 123n161, 184, 188n5 Greek-Italian codex 153 Greek translations, of Latin passions 102–104 Gregory Kamateros 27 Gregory of Cappadocia 50 Gregory of Nazianzus 8, 14n17, 14n18, 25, 29, 40, 41, 45, 51, 53, 55, 56, 59, 68, 70, 71, 73n8, 94, 95, 99, 101, 105, 108, 114n62, 125n204, 129, 133, 135, 136, 140n27, 148n76, 161, 179, 186, 192n47, 197, 210, 211, 215, 218, 219, 223–226, 229n56, 242; faithfulness to 100; invective against Julian 48; invectives against Apostate 136; people responsible for tragic deeds 49; physical portrayal of Julian 199; reception of 1–7, 39 Gregory Palamas 11, 21n108, 243n1 Gregory the Great 111n34 Gregory the Presbyter 4 Guidi-vita 158–160, 175n99, 176n114 Hagia Sophia, collapse of 212 Hagioelita, Johannes 39 hagiographer 114n72, 114n74, 120n139, 223

310 Index hagiographical literature 42–43; topoi of 211 hagiographical text 38–41, 43, 45, 66, 122n145, 134, 153, 165n34 hagiographical tradition 40, 54, 92, 95, 147n65, 178, 184 hagiography 40, 66, 77n69 Halkin-vita 158, 159, 175n100, 205n31 Hellenic traditions 168n65 Hellenism 200, 209n92 hidden persecution 6, 8, 38–40, 49, 52, 59, 108, 131, 135, 136, 148n73, 179, 186 Hilarion 75n43, 91, 111n35 Hildebert: De inventione Sanctae Crucis 164n19 historians 220–223 Historia syntomos 6, 45, 199–204 History of the Church of Alexandria 134, 142n36, 146n57 Homer 29 Homoean Christians 24; and Orthodox Christians, internal conflict between 49 Homoean Church 49, 51, 74n39, 94, 102, 113n55, 178, 191n31 Homoean martyrs 49–52 Homoean milieus 51, 78n99 Homoeans 13n1; 4th century, between Orthodox and 48–54 Homoean source 51–53, 80n115, 106, 115n76, 124n191, 131; and legends in Paschal Chronicle 69 Homoean tradition 38, 50, 52, 67, 68, 74n34, 75n44, 141n30, 184 iconoclasm 10, 26, 128n230, 140n27, 155, 156, 171n80, 189n8 imitatio Iuliani 10 imperial mausoleum 198 Imperial Menologion 42, 60, 95, 97, 136, 185–188, 194n78 intolerance 208n91, 244n16 Isaac I Comnenus 203 Isidore of Kiev 37n97 Ivan III 240 Joel 43, 47n20 John and Paul 102–103 John Chrysostom 2, 14n17, 17n54, 38, 53, 55, 76n66, 135, 170n75, 180, 225, 233n144, 242 John Hagioelites 96, 113n57 John Kantakouzenos 11

John Lydus 24, 32n9 John Malalas 44, 46n17, 60–65, 68, 76n66, 81n128, 96, 129, 132, 142n36 John Mauropous 10, 23, 136 John of Antioch 44, 46n17, 63–65, 83n152, 89n234, 197, 216, 217 John of Damascus 132, 169n67, 220; De Imaginibus 169n67 John of Ephesus 10 John of Rhodes 169n67 John of Thessaloniki (Bishop) 9; De Christi resurrectione 9 John Rufus 19n91, 60–65; Vita Petri Hiberi 12,62 John Tzetzes 36n63; Historiae 28–29 John VII Grammatikos 189n8 John Xiphilinus 5, 6 John Zonaras 3, 15n41, 43, 44, 200, 203, 213–216, 228n36, 229n56 Jovian 24 Julian 11, 12; across ages and places 7–13; ambiguous presence 23–26; angrily reacts to Basil’s hospitality gift 144n45; anti-Christian polemic 238; anti-Christian policy 52, 97, 100, 105, 131, 224; apostasy/apostates 11, 27, 52, 66, 94, 107, 156, 178, 179; against Constantine and Artemius 153–156; Contra Galilaeos 26, 27, 31, 68, 232n119; Contra Heracleum 28, 29, 140n27, 155, 167n60; divine punishment and prophecies about death 129–130; Egyptian saints 98–99; faith under reign 48; gesture and utterance of 216; Gregory of Nazianzus 48, 136; human sacrifice in Carrhae 58; with human sacrifices 241; instrumental equation with 9; Misopogon 8, 29–31, 35n59, 37n97, 71, 106; Nikephoros Gregoras and 223–226; obsessive presence of 12; pagan encyclical 28; parabates 23, 27, 29, 60, 63, 69, 81n122, 91, 107, 114n75, 178, 180; paranomos 189n8; peculiarity of policies 40; personality 38; plans to destroy Christianity after war 128n228; portrayal in Orthodox liturgical books 42; psycho-physical portrait of 196; and reception of Gregory 1–7; representation in Byzantine chronicles 43; restoration for Palestinian Christianity 91; return to order and normalising of portrait 160–161; rewritings between history

Index  311 and legend 94–97; right to regular burial 26; rise to power 52; saints exiled to desert 101–102; skill and versatility 97; slayer of dragon-slayer 101; sophos in wickedness 14n18; in St Mercurius legend 132–134; Theophylact’s hostility towards 211; Thesaurus orthodoxae fidei 1–2; transfer of 34n25; victory in Persia 99; violation of ius gentium 99–101; as violent persecutor 54; war against Constantius II 100; as writer 26–32 Julian Sabas 58 Juvenal, the Patriarch of Jerusalem 8 Juventinus 38, 51, 53, 57, 61, 81n128, 121n143, 147n67, 180; execution of 62 Kavakes, Demetrios Raoul 239, 240, 244n20 Kedrenos 212, 213, 217, 228n27, 228n35 Kekaumenos 24, 25 kollyba legend 40, 134–136, 223 Latin hagiographical texts 87n198, 102 Latin passion 121n143; of St Eustochia 193n50; translations of 122n145 Leo III the Isaurian 7, 178 Leo V the Armenian 7, 19n76, 178, 189n8 Leo VI 8 Leo Choirosphaktes 8 Leo Paraspondylos 202, 203, 208n81 Leoquelle 44, 196, 197, 230n64, 231n82 Libanius 129, 236n184 Life of Macarius Romanus 132, 143n38 liturgical books 38, 160, 183; Constantinopolitan Synaxarion 178– 182; Imperial Menologion 185–188; Menologion of Basil II 181–185 Liutprand of Cremona 160, 173n89 logos historikos 153 Macarius 101, 102, 113n55, 154; Artemius intervention in favour of 167n46; passions of 193n66 Marcus Aurelius 201 Marinus 237 Maris (Bishop) 12, 52, 71, 107, 181, 184, 212, 215 Mark of Arethusa 48, 49, 51, 57, 74n40, 95, 112n49, 189n7, 215; tale of 187 Martin of Tours 92, 93 martyrdom, for Christians 53 Martyrius (Bishop) 12, 22n124, 125n199

Mauritanian tradition 102, 120n139 Maximinus 38, 51, 53, 57, 58, 61, 81n128, 121n143, 180; execution of 62 Maximinus Daia 38 Maximus the Cynic 25 Meletian tradition 75n44 Meletius (Bishop) 57 menologion 41, 42, 45, 92, 96, 102, 104, 154, 157, 161, 177n128, 183, 184, 188n1 Menologion of Basil II 39, 104, 181–186, 188, 188n4 Mercurius of Caesarea 40, 43, 45, 226; Greek fragment on 147n60, 147n64; Julian in St Mercurius legend 132–134; legend in Egypt and Nubia 134; origins of legend as Julian’s killer 130–132; tradition of Julian’s divine punishment and prophecies about death 129–130 Michael Cerularius 7, 200, 203; Accusatio 201; characterisation of 202 Michael Choniates 23 Michael Psellos 8, 28, 45, 208n75, 210, 217; echoes of Leoquelle after 212–219; Historia syntomos 199–204; Historia Syntomos 6 Michael VI 8, 201 Michael VII 199 Michael VIII 7 mistrust 243n1 al-Mundhir III 100, 119n120 Neophytos of Cyprus 92, 110n12 Nicephorous 187 Nikephoros Chrysoberges 6, 10 Nikephoros Gregoras 223–226, 235n166, 235n171, 242; Elogium Mercurii 42, 223–224 Nikephoros Kallistos Xanthopoulos 4, 42, 45, 46n9, 80n115, 115n76, 141n36, 221–223, 233n127, 233n144; Ecclesiastical History 220 Nikephoros Ouranos 135 Niketas Choniates 1 non-Homoean Christians 1 non-Orthodox Christians 92 Nubia, legend of Mercurius in 134 oblivion 91–94 obscurantism 64 Opitz-vita 158, 160, 171n81, 175n96, 175n98, 176n115

312 Index Orthodox: 4th century, between Homoeans and 48–54; tradition 1 Orthodox Christianity 42 Orthodox Christians 1; internal conflict between Homoean Christians and 49 Orthodox Church 38, 75n43 Orthodox civilisations 245n50 Orthodox liturgical books 40; Julian’s portrayal in 42 Pachomius 134 paganism 9, 26, 212 paideia 28 Palaeologan era: historians 220–223; Nikephoros Gregoras and Julian 223–226 Palestinian Christianity 91 Palestinian martyrs of Diocletian 184 Palladius: Historia Lausiaca 54 Paschal Chronicle 49–52, 68, 69, 123n176, 124n191, 125n200 Passio Martyrum XV Tiberiopolis 26, 42, 43, 210 Patermutius 98, 120n135, 182 Patriarchate of Alexandria 1 Patriarchate of Constantinople 9, 10, 25, 164n17 Persian war 61, 175n106 Peter Mongus 237 Petitiones Arianorum 33n13 Philostorgius 54, 167n53, 168n62, 171n75, 171n81, 213, 234n145 Philoteus Kokkinos 11 Photius 77n69 Pomponius Laetus 240–241; Romanae Historiae Compendium 240, 242 Pope Benedict XVI 241 Pope Eusebius 131, 151–153 Pope John I 59 Pope Paul II 240 Porphyrios the Mime 179, 183, 191n28 Porphyry 8 post-Metaphrastic life 92 pre-Metaphrastean passion 100, 116n95; of Manuel, Sabel, and Ismael 117n102, 129 Priscus 171n81 Proteus 6 pseudo-Amphilochian text 143n44, 145n52 Roman Martyrology 178

Samos translation 91 Saturninus 96 second-degree Epitome B 197–199 Sergius 129, 180 Severus of Antioch 115n77, 146n57, 152 Socrates 3, 6, 55–59, 63, 70, 71, 74n34, 77n80, 88n219, 88n220, 137n4, 148n76, 210, 221–223 somatopsychogrammata 206n44 Souda lexicon 23, 27–29, 31 Sozomen 3–5, 14n25, 26, 55, 56, 58, 66, 67, 70–72, 74n34, 74n39, 75n43, 77n80, 77n81, 88n220, 89n230, 95, 96, 106, 110n5, 118n106, 127n215, 129, 130, 158, 168n65, 190n19, 190n28, 191n31, 220, 222, 236n183 Stephen the Deacon: Vita Stephani iunioris 7, 19n74 St Jerome 91 St Kyrion 131 sub Iuliano 57, 58, 67, 80n115, 99, 101, 109, 112n55, 115n76, 157, 181, 184, 185, 188 Sulpicius Severus 92, 93, 110n22 Symeon Logothete 65, 204n17, 213; Chronicon 196–200; and tradition of Epitome 196–197 Symeon the Metaphrast 41, 42, 45, 91, 99, 135, 136, 148n76, 154, 161, 185, 199; BHG 1024 2, 14n18, 14n21, 41, 99, 116n95, 117, 186, 235n66 synaxarion 178–183, 185, 188n1, 190n19; compiler of 192n47; recension of 190n21 Syriac Romance 68, 86n189, 115n77, 130, 132, 139n27, 152, 168n61, 182 Syriac text BHO 233 162n6 Themistius 25 Theodore Daphnopates 12 Theodore Metochite 15n41 Theodore Prodromos 4 Theodore Skoutariotes 220; Synopsis 3 Theodore Spudaeus: Hypomnesticon 8 Theodore the Studite 7 Theodore the Tyro 40, 41, 134–136, 148n76, 187 Theodoret of Antioch 5, 17n57, 39, 55–57, 114n62, 179, 221; passion of 17n57, 39, 66, 81n122, 86n189, 86n196, 87n198, 114n75, 129, 190n28, 234n51, 235n166

Index  313 Theodoret of Cyrrhus 38, 50–51, 55, 57, 59, 70, 72, 77n81, 95, 97, 112n38, 126n215; accidental executioner in passion of 65–69; Ecclesiastical History 166n41; Historia ecclesiastica 90n238, 108, 138n23, 189n13; portrayal of Julian 58; source of information about Publia 179 Theodorus Lector 70, 72, 88n220, 129; Historia tripartita 70, 88n220, 123n176 Theodosius II 45, 55 Theognostus 6 Theophanes 3, 7, 44, 59, 104–108, 112n38, 118n120, 123n175, 123n176, 125n199, 125n200, 125n204, 160, 218, 227n8, 228n35; and passage by Michael the Syrian 124n181 Theophilus 134 Theophilus Patriarch of Alexandria 138n19 Theophylact, Archbishop of Ohrid 10, 27, 31, 210–212, 227n8; In Defence of Eunuchs 210; hostility towards Julian

211; late-antique sources 226n4; Passio Martyrum XV Tiberiopoli 42, 43 Timothy of Prusa 101, 119n124, 180 tolerance 75n48, 214 topoi 100, 101, 104, 131, 133, 151, 156, 159, 176n111, 179, 184; of hagiographical literature 211 Trajan 111n34 Valerian 42, 122n157 violent persecution 69, 135, 154, 179 Vita Basilii 132–134, 234n159 Vita Constantini 223 Vita Dometii 97, 205n32 Vita Euthymii Sardensis 8 Vita Gregorii 25 Vita Martini 92 zelos 184 Zoe Palaiologina 240 Zosimus 5, 32n4, 223, 237, 242; New History 23 Zusatzquelle 197 Zwillingsquelle 213, 216–217, 228n27, 228n35, 229n43, 230n64, 230n69