Framing Power in Visigothic Society: Discourses, Devices, and Artifacts 9789048543595

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Framing Power in Visigothic Society

Late Antique and Early Medieval Iberia Scholarship on the Iberian Peninsula in late antiquity and the early Middle Ages is burgeoning across a variety of disciplines and time periods, yet the publication profile of the field remains disjointed. ‘Late Antique and Early Medieval Iberia’ (LAEMI) provides a publication hub for high-quality research on Iberian Studies from the fijields of history, archaeology, theology and religious studies, numismatics, palaeography, music, and cognate disciplines. Another key aim of the series is to break down barriers between the excellent scholarship that takes place in Iberia and Latin America and the Anglophone world. Series Editor Jamie Wood, University of Lincoln, UK Editorial Board Andrew Fear, University of Manchester, UK Nicola Clarke, Newcastle University, UK Inaki Martín Viso, University of Salamanca, Spain Glaire Anderson, University of North Carolina, USA Eleonora Dell’Elicine, University of Buenos Aires, Argentina

Framing Power in Visigothic Society Discourses, Devices, and Artefacts

Edited by Eleonora Dell’ Elicine and Céline Martin

Amsterdam University Press

Cover illustration: Golden ring of Teudericus, found at Romelle (Samos, Lugo). End of 6th to 7th century. Madrid, M.A.N, Inventory Number 62193 Cover design: Coördeisgn, Leiden Lay-out: Crius Group, Hulshout isbn 978 94 6372 590 3 e-isbn 978 90 4854 359 5 doi 10.5117/9789463725903 nur 684 © E. Dell’ Elicine, C. Martin / Amsterdam University Press B.V., Amsterdam 2020 All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the written permission of both the copyright owner and the author of the book. Every effort has been made to obtain permission to use all copyrighted illustrations reproduced in this book. Nonetheless, whosoever believes to have rights to this material is advised to contact the publisher.



Table of Contents

List of Illustrations

7

1. Texts, Discourses, and Devices: Reading Visigothic Society Today

9

Eleonora Dell’ Elicine and Céline Martin

2. Presence of Augustine of Hippo in Isidore of Seville: Some Provisional Remarks

23

3. The Bishop and the Word: Isidore of Seville and the Production of Meaning

51

4. Unearthing Peasant Societies: Historiography and Recent Contributions in the Archaeology of the Rural World during Visigothic Times

75

Jacques Elfassi

Dolores Castro

Carlos Tejerizo

5. Excolentes sacra fontium vel arborum: Pagan Cults, Kinship, and Regimes of Sacralization in the Visigothic Kingdom of Toledo 109 Eleonora Dell’ Elicine

6. Ervig and Capital Penalties: The Way of Exile

133

7. ‘Put All Your Trust in Ansemundus’: A Look at Distrust in Visigothic-Byzantine Diplomatic Relations

159

Céline Martin

Margarita Vallejo

8. Visigothic Currency: Recent Developments and Data for Its Study 181 Ruth Pliego

Index

217

List of Illustrations Plates Pl. 1. Pl. 2. Pl. 3. Pl. 4. Pl. 5. Pl. 6. Pl. 7. Pl. 8. Pl. 9. Pl. 10. Pl. 11. Pl. 12. Pl. 13. Pl. 14. Pl. 15. Pl. 16. Pl. 17. Pl. 18. Pl. 19.

Julio Martínez Santa Olalla, pictured with a snake. Originally from the Museo Arqueológico Nacional. Distribution map of ‘Visigothic’ funerary context (Palol, 1966). Cuarto de las Hoyas (Fabián, et al., 1985). Extensive excavations at Ladera de los Prados (Strato, 2002a). Silos at the site of Carratejera (Strato, 2003). Distribution of rural sites in the valley of the Eresma and the Voltoya (province of Segovia). Spatial distribution of features in Ladera de los Prados. Metal tools from the context of La Mata del Palomar (Strato, 2002b). Tremissis issued by Liuvigild with Victoria-cicada type on the reverse and mention to the Toleto mint. Private collection, Seville. New tremissis issued by Hermenegild. Auctioned by José A. Herrero S.A. (7-5-2015) 219. Tremissis issued by Reccared I in Arofre. Auctioned by Numismatica Genevensis S.A. (27-11-2012) 1245. Tremissis issued by Gundemar in Inceio. Private collection. Tremissis issued by Wittiza in Eliberri. Auctioned by Aureo & Calicó S.L. (17-10-2018) 1080. Tremissis issued by Egica in Tarracona. Pliego Archive. Tremissis issued by Wittiza in Egitania. Pliego Archive. Tremissis issued by Wittiza in Emerita. Auctioned by Aureo & Calicó S.L. (8-3-2018) 1063. Tremissis issued by Chintila in Tarracona. Hoard of Los Pedroches (Pliego Archive). Tremissis issued by Tulga in Tucci. Hoard of Los Pedroches (Pliego Archive). Tremissis issued by Recesswinth in Bracara. Pliego Archive.

Figures Fig. 1. Graphic representation of the number of coins in each hoard (sometimes the figure is only approximate), and the number of coins registered in the corpus. Fig. 2. Comparison of the number of isolated finds published and the number represented in the corpus.

82 83 85 87 90 91 93 96 185 187 188 189 190 190 191 191 192 192 193

200 201

Fig. 3. Fig. 4. Fig. 5. Fig. 6.

Isolated finds, hoard-related finds, and total number of known coins, grouped by monarch. Known Visigothic coins according to monarch and province. Number of hoards and isolated finds by province. Number of specimens found in relation to hoards and isolated finds.

Tables Table 1. Synoptic table of Visigothic coinage issued by Liuvigild and Hermenegild. Table 2. Quantitative representation of Visigothic kings in the monetary corpus. Table 3. Visigothic monetary hoards. Table 4. Isolated finds by reign. Table 5. Visigothic monetary finds (hoards and isolated finds) and their impact on the monetary corpus.

202 205 206 207

186 196 198 201 203

1.

Texts, Discourses, and Devices: Reading Visigothic Society Today Eleonora Dell’ Elicine and Céline Martin

Abstract This volume examines how power was framed in Visigothic society and how a culturally diverse population was held together as a single kingdom. Through this dynamic process a new early medieval society emerged. This transformation involved the deployment of an array of political and cultural resources: the production of knowledge; the appropriation of Patristic literature; controlling and administering rural populations; reconceptualizing the sacred; capital punishment and exile; controlling the manufacture of currency; and defining Visigothic society in relation to other polities. This volume brings together researchers from a variety of disciplines to rethink frameworks of power in the Peninsula in both historical and archaeological as well as anthropological terms, offering a new understanding of Iberian society as a whole. Keywords: Late Antiquity, Early Medieval, Visigothic Spain, Power, Society, Interdisciplinarity

Around 582, King Leovigild summoned Bishop Masona of Mérida to his court at Toledo. After trying unsuccessfully to get him to embrace Arianism, he demanded that Masona hand over the precious tunic of Saint Eulalia of Mérida to him, so that it could be kept in an Arian basilica in Toledo. But the bishop refused to hand over the relic, which he had concealed by wrapping it around his stomach, under his clothes. Suddenly, the clear sky resounded with God’s thunder, causing Leovigild to fall from his throne onto the ground. Enraged, the king sentenced Masona to exile and ordered that he leave on an untamed horse, in the hope of seeing the holy bishop fall ‘and give him a great spectacle.’ But Masona mounted the horse with

Dell’ Elicine, E. and C. Martin (eds), Framing Power in Visigothic Society. Discourses, Devices, and Artefacts. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2020 doi 10.5117/9789463725903_ch01

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ease, which the Lord had made ‘like a gentle lamb’ for him and he rode off into exile without suffering any mishap.1 This confrontation between the Arian Visigothic king and the most powerful Hispanic bishop of the time can be read, in a rather traditional fashion, as a conflict between the church and the state, or between the spiritual and secular powers, or otherwise between ‘centre and periphery’.2 Yet, there are still more ways to understand the story and to frame the conflict between Masona and Leovigild without confronting ‘church and state’ or ‘centre and periphery’. Both characters held power over the people: they were able to influence people to behave in one way or another, each within a different sphere, bearing in mind that, before the Gregorian Reform, both spheres were not watertight compartments; each of them could even exert a certain pressure on the course of action of the other. In the case discussed, they vied to control an artefact – a tunic – whose holiness was both a magnet for pilgrims and a means to enhance the authority of its possessor. Masona’s careful concealment of the tunic upon his stomach was also a way for him to identify with the martyr Eulalia, who had allegedly borne it in the same way centuries before;3 and identifying with a martyr amounted to characterizing Leovigild as a tyrant, that is, to disauthorizing him. 4 From another perspective, power is classically made visible through processes such as elevation, in this case, onto a throne or a horse. In the story, Leovigild fell from his throne but Masona did not fall from his horse; a legitimizing transcendence determined who was meant to fall and who was not. Finally, whatever one’s position on the Linguistic Turn, no contemporary scholar can overlook the fact that the story itself is a discourse of power produced by the see of Mérida during the following century, years after the death of both characters: the sentence of exile issued by the king must thus be seen as a discourse of power within a discourse of power of a different nature and scope. All these ways of addressing the anecdote are valid, complementary, and by no means exhaustive. In this vein, the present volume intends to provide an overview of the potential new insights into power in Visigothic society. The first collections of essays on Visigothic studies, offering complementary and often multidisciplinary approaches, date back to the 1970s and 1 Vitas Sanctorum Patrum Emeretensium, V, 6, pp. 65-70. 2 A milestone for this last approach was Collins, ‘Mérida and Toledo’. 3 A striking illustration of the point made by Brown, The Cult of the Saints; see also Collins, ‘Mérida and Toledo’, p. 197. 4 In describing the confrontation between Leovigild and Masona, the hagiography closely followed the model of the Passiones: see Maya, ‘De Leovigildo perseguidor’.

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1980s. In 1971, a special issue of the journal Anales toledanos,5 dedicated to the Visigothic realm, was published: it included thirteen contributions by leading philologists, historians, archaeologists, and numismatists of the time. Two colloquiums followed and were published soon after in 1980 and 1981, respectively: Visigothic Spain: New Approaches6 and the more modest Innovación y continuidad en la España visigótica.7 The collective works on Visigothic Spain then reached their apogee. In 1986, a special issue of Antigüedad y Cristianismo8 included the proceedings of an International Visigothic Conference with a diverse set of approaches and 40 different contributions. In 1989, the III Council of Toledo of 589 was commemorated with an official symposium,9 numerous contributions (out of a total of 41 in the scientific section)10 to which are key among the Visigothic literature of the twentieth century. Several months later, another International Visigothic Conference was held in Madrid. As multidisciplinary as the previous encounters and still ambitious in its dimensions (29 contributions), it was only released in 1998.11 Subsequently, Visigothic scientific activity shifted to northern Europe, with two collective volumes published almost simultaneously in 1999,12 and then apparently waned. Since the turn of the century, only one more collection of Visigothic matter has been published, although the protagonism had to be shared with the Lombards: nine of the sixteen contributions to this multidisciplinary colloquium held in Rome in 1997 were Visigothic.13 Nearly twenty years later, there has not been another Visigothic compilation published in print, in Spain or in any other country. Admittedly, we can celebrate the recent (2016) launch of an online series of Visigothic Symposia, which has been rallying many international specialists in the field around different general themes14 and a special issue of Antiquité tardive dedicated 5 Estudios sobre la España visigoda. 6 James, ed., Visigothic Spain. 7 Gonzálvez Ruiz, Innovación y continuidad. 8 Los Visigodos. Historia y civilización. 9 Concilio III de Toledo. 10 In the words of Peter Linehan, the volume is ‘prefaced by 200 pages of preliminary matter which will chiefly be of interest to students of the Spanish church in the late 1980s,’ Linehan, ‘Review’, p. 333. 11 Méndez Madariaga et al., eds, Jornadas Internacionales. 12 Ferreiro, ed., The Visigoths; and Heather, ed., The Visigoths. 13 Visigoti e Longobardi (2001). 14 Of the series of five scheduled ‘Visigothic Symposia’, directed by Michael Kelly and Dolores Castro, the following have been released so far: ‘Visigothic Symposium 1 (2016-2017), “Law and Theology”’; ‘Visigothic Symposium 2 (2017-2018); “Iberian Spaces, Iberian Identities”’; ‘Visigothic Symposium 3 (2018-2019); “Communication and Circulation”’; and ‘Visigothic Symposium 4 (2018-2019); “Manuscripts and Edition”’.

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to the times of Isidore of Seville.15 Paradoxically, scholarship on the matter has never been so vibrant: the publishing of new scientific editions, notable since the 1990s, has increased16 and several recent monographs confirm a renewed interest in the period.17 It is, therefore, high time for this present volume, which will be dedicated specifically to power. In Visigothic historiography, the issue of power is examined in two main ways. The first one focuses on the subjects of power, studying the ways in which it was displayed by kingship, church, aristocracy, or even peasantry. This approach foregrounds the constitution of social bounds on the broad scale of the kingdom, perceiving Visigothic society as the result of a display of key forces. Moreover, this perspective clearly reveals social inequalities: it exposes a society in which power was poorly distributed. However, what still remains difficult to understand in this approach is how authority was built in the Visigothic society; that is to say, the ways in which particular forces managed to impose conditions on others. Broadly speaking, power is perceived as the force exerted by an existing subject on another subjugated one. According to this point of view, the articulation of authority is conceived as chronologically and logically preceding the real exercise of power. The other way to examine power in Visigothic historiography – itself largely developed – focuses on techniques, practices, and artefacts. Topics such as law, taxation, monetary circulation, monuments – to name just a few examples – are considered valuable access roads for exploring concrete forms of power. This approach unveils particular mechanisms, highly codified procedures for exercising power in certain fields. Its major concerns are not large-scale or society as a whole, but the protocols deployed by a singular device in order to achieve its aims. This standpoint specifically reveals the energy invested in a particular detail, in only one tool, figure, or device that allows power to circulate, to move from one point to another, increasing in strength as it does so. Such an approach to the exercise of power helps us to observe that force is certainly not some sort of vector applied on a subject or an object. Instead, power may be seized as an amount of social energy that can only be put into action through complex devices involving several 15 Isidore de Séville et son temps. 16 Braulio of Saragossa, Epistulae (2018); Chronica Hispana (2018); Isidore of Seville, Synonyma (2010); Iuliani Toletani episcopi Opera II (2014); Martin of Braga, Oeuvres morales (2018). 17 Barroso Cabrera, Etnicidad vs. Aculturación (2018); Buchberger, Shifting Ethnic Identities (2017); Chavarría, A la sombra (2018); Cordero Ruiz, El Territorio Emeritense (2013); Díaz, El reino suevo (2011); Dell’Elicine, En el principio (2013); Fernández, Aristocrats and Statehood (2017); Pérez Martínez, Tarraco (2012); Riess, Narbonne (2013); Vallejo Girvés, Hispania y Bizancio (2012); Valverde Castro, Los viajes (2017); Wood, The Politics of Identity (2012).

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agents. Moreover, these devices are ones that allow the subject controlling them to gain authority: even practices such as war – frequently associated with pure violence – are complex social codes. Consequently, the standpoint that favours the study of techniques, practices, or artefacts shows that the exercise of power cannot be fully separated from the construction of its authority. Command is exerted from a recognized authority and, conversely, command brings authority up to date. From this perspective, the subject does not lose relevance or dissolve into the object, rather it is conceived as one of the forces managing social constructions, trying to direct them and constantly holding them to its aims. We can consider, for instance, the analyses of the punishment of exile performed by Martin, or the study of the bishop’s role examined by Castro, both included in this volume: the interventions of the subjects accommodate practices in force, updating them in each case according to the aims they define. Considering this concern paid to a particular technique or practice, this point of view tends to suspend the consideration of other devices that are being deployed simultaneously. This is an in-depth approach centred on the complexity and refinement of one of a number of ways of exerting power. As its title reveals, the present volume also shines light on practices, devices, and artefacts, and its chapters certainly favour the second approach outlined above: topics as varied as pastoral texts (Elfassi); techniques of exegesis (Castro); peasant communities (Tejerizo); alternative cultic practices (Dell’ Elicine); penal sanctions (Martin); currency (Pliego); and international relations (Vallejo) are all examined as social constructions articulating forces and exercising power in Visigothic society through specific and highly sophisticated mechanisms. In this sense, the volume as a whole can be approached in two different and not mutually exclusive ways. The first one, more evident and familiar, is a reading direction that fosters an update on topics as manifold as philology of Visigothic texts, numismatics, diplomacy, archaeology, legal history, etc. As already noted, each of these fields demands a high degree of specialization and the review of an immense number of works, making it materially arduous for a non-specialist to monitor all these topics. Paradoxically, at the same time, the rate of discoveries and new developments in each specialty compels scholars to become acquainted with the major debates ongoing in the wider field; otherwise their personal research would become obsolete. In this challenging context, the present volume intends to expose meaningful – albeit brief and swift – discussions around certain topics, posing ideas and lining up the essential bibliography on the issue. The intended readership is certainly varied: experts on Visigothic society, but also readers interested

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in the functioning of other medieval societies or, broadly speaking, in the ways pre-modern communities frame their social bonds. A second approach to the volume intends to benefit from the rich diversity of topics that this book is made up of. Even if not providing a thorough record – an almost insurmountable endeavour for sure – this book collates significantly different ways of framing power in Visigothic society and unfolds them in a simultaneous and probably overlapping way. The clearest example of the superposition examined in this text is territory: far from being the clean and neatly boundaried surface shown in maps, the territory held by the Visigoths was defined by the king in various ways, including by: repeatedly confronting the Byzantines (Vallejo); by marking off centralities and distances whenever he sentenced anyone to exile (Martin); or by promoting various monetary circuits (Pliego). Concurrently, the aristocracy played its role in defining territory since it distributed population, enhancing some areas and relegating others (Tejerizo). The peasantry performed their part as well while settling and producing value (Tejerizo); not to forget cultic practices disclosing different powers frequently confronted (Dell’ Elicine). In the territory, the various powers established refined mechanisms in order to exert force. Such a cross-reading of the contributions collected here allows us to ponder the complexity of the powers at stake, their close-knit relationship, paving the way for conceiving the objects themselves – in this case, the territory – as relationships of power in Visigothic society. The idea of complexity maintains its ability to dismantle certain prejudices still rooted in some current discourses on medieval societies, all of them firmly established in daily speech by videos, movies, or school books, which frequently associate these experiences with darkness, primitiveness, and even with a return to nature. Yet, for medievalists, this discussion provides little novelty to the ongoing debates. By contrast, complexity understood as the exercise of powers acting simultaneously helps to conceive Visigothic society not only as a dynamic frame that experiences change over a period of time, but as the social bond resulting from the overlap of different undertakings. As already noted, such a global scale can perfectly be grasped by focusing on the subjects of power, at the expense of describing power relationships as unidirectional. Understanding pastoral texts, currency, particular techniques as exegesis, legal practices, diplomacy, cultic rites, human settlements – all issues examined in this book – as powers exercised simultaneously enables us to comprehend Visigothic society as a dysfunctional functioning; in turn, a similar formula can be employed to understand each one of these devices. We note its ‘functioning’ dimension because Visigothic society definitely was a social experience that worked

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and bonded. At the same time, we qualify it as ‘dysfunctional’ since it was not the result of central powers integrating many parts into a harmonious whole, but rather the ever-precarious effect of changing forces controlling many overlapping devices. Even if functioning in a dysfunctional way is not necessarily an exclusive feature of Visigothic society, the ways in which this social experience dealt with disarrangement were distinct. Thinking of the simultaneity of powers helps us to conceive the historicity of Visigothic society. This functional dysfunctionality, which we posit as characteristic of the Visigothic experience, unequivocally retained central powers. Most studies related to the first point of view summarized here confirm centrality and explore the scope and ranges of these powers, but they leave this issue ultimately unexplained: according to this standpoint, kingship and church displayed a wide range of powers precisely because they were central. For their part, studies that favour the second point of view tend to account for centrality examining the refinements of a single device of power. In order to grasp the historicity of Visigothic society, though, we should start by exploring the conditions these powers had to control in order to exercise pre-eminence over other forces during a given period of time. Even though the list of devices analysed in this volume is limited, studying them one by one may help some preliminary ideas emerge that will facilitate our thinking through of this question. We can simply start by focusing on those objects examined here that were controlled by central powers: pastoral texts (Elfassi); exegesis (Castro); currency (Pliego); legal practice (Martin); and diplomacy (Vallejo). All of them, in one way or another, resort to writing in order to convey a command, even if writing did not play a major role, as in the cases of currency, diplomatic rites, or the judicial apparatus as a whole. In Visigothic society, writing did more than express power: it widened social distances. And although this could be achieved in a variety of ways (for example, by raising monuments or building cities), writing was one of the most powerful techniques for doing so. A subject in Visigothic society could thus only aim to become central if it relied on writing, at least with respect to the main devices it controlled. The second condition that allowed for centrality and that can be observed from this limited series of objects was institutionalization, ensured to a certain extent by the capability of the subject to rule itself. In fact, texts, currency, the legal apparatus, and even diplomacy were controlled by subjects provided with mechanisms of self-regulation: kingship by means of the law, the church through canon law and monastic rules. The higher the level of institutionalization, the better opportunities for controlling various devices, even with the

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presence of other opposing forces.18 In Visigothic society, centrality was not a given position, but rather was the result of the work of different forces. It was based on the accumulation of mechanisms of power, on the control of writing, and to a larger degree, on institutionalization. The list exposed here certainly does not account for all the conditions that enabled a force to become central, but it prompts readings to reach an understanding of the whole. In sum, these powers did not open social distances in Visigothic society because they held a central position; instead, they held a central position because they exerted control over the conditions examined above. Whereas kingship and church mastered these conditions quite effectively, the different aristocratic groupings, who controlled fewer self-regulatory mechanisms, managed with varying degrees success or only temporarily. Further, we know that Visigothic society included other forces that opened social distances and were not central. The list of devices examined in this volume allows for fewer explorations at this level, only providing some glimpses of general tendencies. Let us begin with the analysis Tejerizo devotes to peasant communities. According to the author, peasantry was a full social subject in Visigothic society and therefore a force that held power, in turn liable of being ruled by other forces. Although it controlled some self-regulatory mechanisms – silos, for instance – many other relevant ones were beyond its command and made the peasantry vulnerable to, for example, laws of inheritance or war, just mention just a few. The peasant community was in fact a power relation in itself, criss-crossed by other powers. As analysed by Tejerizo, some of these powers relocated populations, moving them in order to colonize new areas. Their force consisted of recruiting, gathering, and bringing people together. A similar phenomenon can be detected in the exploration of so-called idolatric cults by Dell’ Elicine. One of the ways in which powers made themselves visible was precisely by reinforcing already existing groups (groups of relatives, of neighbours, clientes, etc.) with new identitary bonds, or by promoting new ones. As we can see, both contributions recall the same performances: recruiting, gathering, and bringing people together. Yet, these actions were not limited to minor powers; simply put, they were the ways in which powers manifested themselves in Visigothic society. In fact, minor powers worked similarly, but were not able to control self-regulatory mechanisms thoroughly and, moreover, had erratic access to writing.19 18 For this topic, see Humfress, ‘Institutionalisation’. 19 For the purposes of this preliminary introduction, we prefer the adjective ‘minor’ rather than ‘local’ – generally employed in most specialized works and the texts of Tejerizo and Dell’Elicine

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To conclude, reading heterogeneous objects through the lens of simultaneity, as we have been doing here, allows us to highlight some perspectives conducive to the examination of Visigothic society as a whole. Firstly, it helps us not only to recognize its complexity, but also to think it through; secondly, it enables us to identify more accurately its gestures of power; and finally, it contributes to locating the study of particular devices in the broader frame of the forces at play. Such a perspective entailed considering all the devices concerned in this volume comprehensively. Having sketched some common guidelines, we can now explore some other topics of interest rising from different ways of clustering the same texts. In this section, we attempt to bind together some of the contributions to this volume that may transversely share particular issues relevant to the exercise of power in Visigothic society. Without losing the perspective of simultaneity, our intention is to focus on the topics or points of view shared by some of the texts, but not necessarily present in others, which can, nevertheless, provide, even in a fragmentary and biased way, interesting glimpses into the examination of forms of power. These are just a few readings from the many possible, considering that any other grouping would highlight many more issues than the ones pointed out here. The two opening contributions, those of Jacques Elfassi and Dolores Castro, direct their attention to written texts, that set of operations that was in itself – as we have already pointed out – a device of power. With characteristic precision, Elfassi examines the set of texts and forms through which Isidore of Seville read Augustine of Hippo. He points out two of them: firstly, a careful review of the corpus of Saint Augustine known by Isidore; secondly, a reconsideration of his ways of approaching authority. According to Elfassi, Isidore employed Augustinian texts in three different registers: as proof of truth; as a reserve of technical terms; and as an aesthetic reference, a Christian model of discursive elegance. For her part, Castro’s perspective on Isidore’s texts is sociological rather than philological: her aim is to examine the several uses this bishop conferred on biblical exegesis in many of his works. In Castro’s opinion, Isidore’s exegetic approach strove to settle orthodoxy, to educate the clergy, and to promote Hispalis as a major centre of knowledge. As can be seen, both texts reflect on the ways an authority collected here –to highlight a weaker intensity of power than that of the forces able to organize the broader social bond. The topic of territory would demand a longer development than the scope of this introduction permits.

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(in this case, the bishop of Hispalis) made use of another (Augustine of Hippo, Patristics, the Bible). Writing was a device – typically ecclesiastic and episcopal – for promoting oneself as the fair heir to a tradition, the means by which a certain see or even an ethnic church claimed their place in the spiritual heritage of the new religion. This place conferred or aimed to confer a deep identitary mark onto the group. Orienting oneself authoritatively in the Bible, in Patristics, and particularly in Augustine was charged with special meanings according to the community of readers: some meanings worked for the clergy of Hispalis, others for the broader Visigothic clergy, for the Roman prelacy, for the Franks, or even for imperial readers. In any case, using an authoritative text was a claim of privilege, a hallmark of distinction. In turn, Tejerizo’s and Dell’ Elicine’s chapters do not focus on texts, but rather on powers acting in the territory. As mentioned above, Tejerizo’s contribution outlines peasantry as a subject of power established in new residential frames, the villages. Material remains indicating the presence of villages since the fifth century give us a glimpse of territorial stability, of some direct control over production, social cohesion policies, and internal inequalities. Dell’ Elicine’s work also brings into focus rural environments, examining the development of cults penalized by the church. According to her, a wide variety of groupings convened around these cults, helping to strengthen powers of all types. Tejerizo and Dell’ Elicine both advocate for a change of frame that would allow us to grasp power relations in a renewed way. The former, building on the ‘archaeological turn’ disclosed by Escalona, resolutely moves from an archaeology of the early medieval rural world to an archaeology of peasantry, thereby revealing the so far unseen social dimension and the power relations encapsulated in the rural territory. The latter discusses alternative cultic practices through practically the only written evidence left – legislation; yet, her main focus on normative discourse is not on its prohibitive, negative aspect, but on the efficient, positive technologies of power made visible hereto. Finally, both authors agree that ethnicity, traditionally presented by scholarship, is not an essential feature of identity in the societies under study; other criteria, such as vicinity or kinship, appear to be more relevant. Village as well as idolatric cults, insofar as they were power relationships in themselves, could give birth to social bonding, for example, in the cemetery, and simultaneously to vertical links that would reinforce the power of the lord or patron. Finally, the contributions by Martin, Vallejo, and Pliego emphasize the mechanisms and strategies of power carried out by the Visigothic

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monarchy, a topic often discussed by scholars. Martin and Pliego examine the production of coins and legal rules respectively, showing how royal power projects itself into the territory through monetary emission and the statement of the law. Vallejo considers the issue of mutual recognition in the brave new world of post-Roman Late Antiquity. In all three cases, the strategy of power deployed is also one of authority: it aims at achieving practical results as well as constructing an appropriate image for the Visigothic monarch. Adopting a numismatic approach, Pliego’s work unveils new insights into some specific moments in the Visigothic period, for instance, Leovigild’s policy to confront his rebellious son, or the shift of the centre of power to the south under Chintila and Tulga and, once again, in the last years of the realm, under Wittiza. Although strongly denying the feasibility, within current knowledge, of a study of monetary circulation, she exposes how royal power, through monetary emission, articulated the Iberian territory, seeking to control the flow of wealth and to project the royal image. Likewise, in Martin’s study, legal discourse given in the king’s name – not only legislation, but also judicial practice – retains a double edge: while serving to contain a restless aristocracy, it produced, depending on the circumstances, a fearsome or a merciful monarch. Finally, beyond the state level, Vallejo shows how the uncertain Visigothic-Byzantine diplomacy of the time also sought practical results – to arrange a peaceful, if temporary, cohabitation in the Iberian Peninsula – while appearing, in a more abstract way, as a credible interlocutor. Far from being the feeble force many traditional works describe, the Visigothic monarch retained several and very different devices in order to achieve his aims. As mentioned above, these basic guidelines to the present volume are just some of the envisaged possibilities. Their aim is not to summarize the content of the following contributions. More than twenty years after the publishing of the last compilation on Visigothic society, there has been a significant increase in research; new topics, new sources and a large number of different historical perspectives make the exercise of simply carrying on from where the field left off unfeasible. In our opinion, undertaking a collective volume today must necessarily have new aims and meanings: not resuming but facilitating dialogues between particular f ields, and most of all stimulating comprehensive approaches that can be the key to locating and to reconsidering specialized research in broader and updated perspectives.

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Works cited Arce, Javier and Delogu, Paolo, eds, Visigoti e longobardi. Atti del Seminario (Roma, 28-29 aprile 1997) (Firenze: All’Insegna del Giglio, 2001). Barroso Cabrera, Rafael, Etnicidad vs. Aculturación: Las necrópolis castellanas de los siglos V-VI d.C. y el asentamiento visigodo en la Península Ibérica. Una mirada desde la meseta sur (Oxford: Archaeopress, 2018). Braulio of Saragossa, Epistulae, Confessio uel professio Iudaeorum ciuitatis Toletanae, ed. by Ruth Miguel Franco and José Carlos Martín = CCSL 114B (Turnhout: Brepols, 2018). Brown, Peter, The Cult of the Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Christianity, (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, The Haskell Lectures on History of Religions, 1982). Buchberger, Erica, Shifting Ethnic Identities in Spain and Gaul, 500–700: From Romans to Goths and Franks (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2017). Chavarría Arnau, Alejandra, A la sombra de un imperio. Iglesias, obispos y reyes en la Hispania tardoantigua (Bari: Edipuglia, 2018). Chronica Hispana saeculi VIII et IX, ed. by Juan Gil = CCCM 65 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2018). Collins, Roger, ‘Mérida and Toledo: 550-585’, in Visigothic Spain. New Approaches, ed. by Edward James (Oxford: Clarendon, 1980), pp. 189-219. Concilio III de Toledo: XIV Centenario: 589-1989, (Arzobispado de Toledo: Toledo, 1991). Cordero Ruiz, Tomás, El Territorio Emeritense durante la Antigüedad Tardía (Siglos IV–VIII). Génesis y evolución del mundo rural Lusitano = Anejos del Archivo Español de Arqueología, 66 (Mérida: CSIC, 2013). Díaz, Pablo C., El reino suevo. 411-585 (Madrid: Akal, 2011). Dell’ Elicine, Eleonora, En el principio fue el Verbo. Políticas del signo y estrategias del poder eclesiástico en el reino visigodo de Toledo (589-711) (Cádiz: Universidad de Cádiz, 2013). Estudios sobre la España visigoda, special issue of Anales toledanos, 3 (1971). Fernández, Damián, Aristocrats and Statehood in Western Iberia (c. 300-600 CE) (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2017). Ferreiro, Alberto, ed., The Visigoths. Studies in Culture and Society (Leiden-Boston: Brill, The Medieval Mediterranean, 20, 1999). Gonzálvez Ruiz, Ramón, ed., Innovación y continuidad en la España visigótica (Toledo: Instituto de estudios visigótico-mozarabes de San Eugenio, 1981). Heather, Peter, ed., The Visigoths. From the Migration Period to the Seventh Century. An Ethnographic Perspective (San Marino: Boydell Press, Studies in Historical Archaeoethnology, 2003).

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Humfress, Caroline, ‘Institutionalisation between Theory and Practice’, in Diverging Paths? The Shapes of Power and Institutions in Medieval Christendom and Islam, ed. by John Hudson and Ana Rodríguez (Leiden-Boston: Brill, 2014), pp. 16-29. Isidore de Séville et son temps, special issue of Antiquité tardive, 23 (2015). Isidore of Seville, Synonyma, ed. by Jacques Elfassi = CCSL 111B (Turnhout: Brepols, 2010). Iuliani Toletani episcopi Opera II Liber anticinem. Elogium Ildefonsi. Felicis Toletani episcopi Vita Iuliani. Iuliani Toletani episcopi Fragmenta II. Pseudo-Iuliani Toletani episcopi Ordo annorum mundi, ed. by José Carlos Martín and Valeriano Yarza Urquiola = CCSL 115 A-B (Turnhout: Brepols, 2014). James, Edward, ed., Visigothic Spain. New Approaches (Oxford: Clarendon, 1980). Linehan, Peter, ‘Review: El Concilio III de Toledo. XIV Centenario. 589-1989’, pp. 885 incl. numerous ills. ‘Toledo: Arzobispado de Toledo/Caja Toledo, 1991’, The Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 44: 2 (1993), p. 333. Los Visigodos. Historia y civilización (Actas de la Semana Internacional de Estudios Visigóticos. Madrid-Toledo-Alcalá de Henares, 21-25 octubre de 1985, special issue of Antigüedad y Cristianismo, 3 (1986). Martin of Braga, Oeuvres morales et pastorales, ed. by Guy Sabbah = SC 594 (Paris: Cerf, 2018). Maya, Antonio, ‘De Leovigildo perseguidor y Masona mártir’, Emerita: Revista de Lingüística y Filología clásica, 62: 1 (1994), pp. 167-186. Méndez Madariaga, Antonio, Montoro, Teresa, and Sandoval León, Maria Dolores, eds, Jornadas Internacionales “Los visigodos y su mundo”: Ateneo de Madrid, noviembre de 1990 (Madrid: Comunidad de Madrid, Consejería de Educación y Cultura, Dirección General del Patrimonio Cultural, 1998). Pérez Martínez, Meritxell, Tarraco en la Antigüedad Tardía. Cristianización y organización eclesiástica (siglos III a VIII) (Tarragona: Arola Editors, 2012). Riess, Frank, Narbonne and its Territory in Late Antiquity: From the Visigoths to the Arabs (Ashgate: Farnham-Burlington, 2013). Vallejo Girvés, Margarita: Hispania y Bizancio. Una relación desconocida (Madrid: Akal, 2012). Valverde Castro, Rosario, Los viajes de los reyes visigodos de Toledo. 532-711 (Madrid: La Ergástula, 2017). Visigothic Symposium 1 (2016-2017), Law and Theology. https://visigothicsymposia. org/symposia/ (Accessed on 14 August 2019). Visigothic Symposium 2 (2017-2018), Iberian Spaces, Iberian Identities. https:// visigothicsymposia.org/symposia/ (Accessed on 14 August 2019). Visigothic Symposium 3 (2018-2019), Communication and Circulation. https:// visigothicsymposia.org/symposia/ (Accessed on 14 August 2019).

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Visigothic Symposium 4 (2018-2019), Manuscripts and Edition. https://visigothicsymposia.org/symposia/ (Accessed on 14 August 2019). Vitas sanctorum patrum Emeretensium, ed. by Antonio Maya Sánchez = CCSL 116 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1992). Wood, Jamie, The Politics of Identity in Visigothic Spain. Religion and Power in the Histories of Isidore of Seville (Leiden: Brill, 2012).

About the authors Eleonora Dell’ Elicine is Senior Lecturer in Ancient History at Universidad de General Sarmiento (Argentina) since 2011. Her research field is the political, intellectual, and social history of Europe in the Early Middle Ages, with particular interest in the Visigothic Kingdom in the seventh century. She focuses on the semiotic ways in which the Visigothic Church managed to communicate authority – specially liturgy, chronicles, and miracles. Since 2014, she has been working on the problem of superstition and idolatrous practices. Eleonora has authored a number of books and published several articles in academic journals related to her field of interest both in Spanish and English. Céline Martin is Senior Lecturer in Medieval History at the University of Bordeaux-Montaigne (France) and a member of Ausonius (UMR 5607, CNRS). She holds a PhD in Medieval History (2000) from the EHESS (Paris) and is a former student of the ENS Fontenay Saint-Cloud. Prior to arriving at Bordeaux, she was Senior Lecturer at Lille-3 (2001-2007). As a specialist in sixth/seventh-century Spain, her research deals mostly with political theory and practice, and particularly focuses on the normative corpus of Visigothic leges and concilia. She publishes in French and Spanish and has been collaborating in several international projects.

2.

Presence of Augustine of Hippo in Isidore of Seville: Some Provisional Remarks Jacques Elfassi

Abstract Augustine of Hippo is the most quoted author by Isidore of Seville. Isidore uses Augustine in all his works, without exception, and he knows at least 53 of Augustine’s works. However, Augustine’s presence in Isidore has rarely been studied, probably because scholars were discouraged by the extent of the task. It was only in 2013 that J.C. Martín published two general surveys on the subject, but in spite of their richness they are very brief (four pages each). In this chapter, I outline some lines of research: I give some details about the works of Augustine known to Isidore and I examine some unexpected ways in which the Sevillian used the works of his predecessor. Keywords: Isidore of Seville, Augustine of Hippo, Sources, History of Texts

It is a commonplace to say that Augustine of Hippo is the greatest of the Fathers of the Latin Church. It is no less a commonplace to assert that Isidore of Seville is the most important author of the writers of Visigothic Spain. If we add that Isidore expresses the greatest admiration for Augustine, that he quotes him in all his works, without exception, and that he knows more than 50 of his works, we might expect that the links between these two giants have already been widely studied. In fact, if we except some specific studies,1 Augustine’s presence in Isidore has almost never been studied, probably because researchers have been discouraged by the magnitude of the task. It 1

Such as Pellegrino, ‘Le “Confessioni” di s. Agostino’, or Robles, ‘La presencia de san Agustín’.

Dell’ Elicine, E. and C. Martin (eds), Framing Power in Visigothic Society. Discourses, Devices, and Artefacts. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2020 doi 10.5117/9789463725903_ch02

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was only in 2013 that José Carlos Martín-Iglesias published two major studies on the subject; but, despite their richness, they are very brief (four pages each).2 There is still much to be done. José Carlos Martín-Iglesias has nonetheless achieved an essential task: he has cleared a huge field of research that is still almost virgin. My work aims to continue this clearing. I would like to complete and specify the list of Augustine’s works known to Isidore, and I would also like to outline some unexpected aspects of Isidore’s use of his predecessor.3

Augustine’s works known to Isidore: Some additions I shall begin with the list of Augustine’s works known to Isidore, taking as a starting point José Carlos Martín-Iglesias’s list. 4 A few corrections should be made: – Six books should be added: Contra Secundinum; De dialectica; De inmortalitate animae; De magistro; De octo Dulcitii quaestionibus; and Expositio epistulae ad Galatas. – Conversely, six books are to be excluded: Contra duas epistulas Pelagianorum; De diuinitate daemonum; De fide et symbolo; and De Genesi ad litteram imperfectus. Let us begin with the additions. 1) Contra Secundinum I have already analysed the presence of Contra Secundinum in Isidore, but only in Etym. VII, 2, and 13,5 and I mentioned the other texts briefly in a footnote.6 Here, I am going to summarize all the information. The presence of the Contra Secundinum in Isidore is all the more remarkable because this work was minimally diffused in the Middle Ages: no manuscript has been preserved till today.7 2 See Martín-Iglesias, ‘Isidore of Seville’, and ‘La biblioteca cristiana’, pp. 260-263. 3 This work is related to the Research Project ‘The Evolution of Knowledge and its Transmission in Latin Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages’ directed by José Carlos Martín-Iglesias and David Paniagua (University of Salamanca), and financed by the Spanish Ministry of Economy, Industry and Competitiveness (project FFI2016-76495-P). 4 See Martín-Iglesias, ‘La biblioteca cristiana’, pp. 260-263. 5 See Elfassi, ‘Les noms du Christ’, pp. 248-249. 6 See Idem, ‘Nuevas fuentes’, p. 107, n. 3. 7 The edition published by Joseph Zycha in the CSEL in 1892 is based on the manuscript Chartres BM 104, which disappeared in 1944. On the medieval diffusion of the Contra Secundinum, see Delmulle, ‘Un recueil augustinien’, pp. 313 and 319-320.

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a) C. Secund. 5 Augustine, C. Secund. 5:8 Ita fit, ut primas origines condendarum rerum de nihilo Deum fecisse fateamur, nisi quia forte ineffabilis ac sacratissimae maiestatis primogenitum Iesum Christum esse dixisti, non secundum susceptionem hominis, in qua per adoptionem uocatos, sicut apostolus dicit, et sicut catholica credit fides, fratres habere dignatus est quibus esset primogenitus, sed potius secundum ipsam diuinitatis excellentiam uis eum primogenitum intellegi. Isidore, Diff. II, 6, 14-15:9 Nam secundum diuinitatis excellentiam unigenitus est a Patre iuxta euangelium, quod dicit: ‘Et uidimus gloriam eius, gloriam quasi unigeniti a Patre, plenum gratia et ueritate’ [Io 1:14]. At uero secundum fraternam societatem primogenitus est uniuersae creaturae, iuxta id quod Apostolus ait: ‘ut sit ipse primogenitus in multis fratribus’ [Rm 8:29]. Est ergo unigenitus in substantia deitatis, primogenitus in susceptione humanitatis. Isidore, Etym. VII, 2, 13:10 Vnigenitus autem uocatur secundum diuinitatis excellentiam, quia sine fratribus; primogenitus, secundum susceptionem hominis, in qua per adoptionis gratiam fratres habere dignatus est, quibus esset primogenitus.

The presence of the Contra Secundinum in the Etymologies was indicated by Jean-Yves Guillaumin and Pierre Monat and, independently, by me.11 In the Differentiae, Isidore borrows relatively little from Augustine’s text: – secundum ipsam diuinitatis excellentiam > secundum diuinitatis excellentiam – secundum susceptionem hominis > in susceptione humanitatis – allusion to Rm 8:29 in Augustine: quote from Rm 8:29 in Isidore. The Etymologiae are closer to the source: primogenitum […] secundum susceptionem hominis, in qua per adoptionem […] fratres habere dignatus est quibus esset primogenitus > primogenitus, secundum susceptionem 8 CSEL 25, p. 911, l. 6-13. Here, as in the rest of the chapter, I shall cite the titles in abbreviated form (for example, here, ‘C. Secund.’) after providing the complete title (Contra Secundinum). Isidore’s work will be generally cited in abbreviated form (except sometimes within the body of the text): Alleg. = Allegoriae, Diff. = Differentiae, Eccl. off. = De ecclesiasticis officiis, Etym. = Etymologies, Quaest. = Quaestiones, Sent. = Sententiae. 9 CCSL 111A, p. 14, l. 3-9. 10 ALMA, p. 29, l. 1-5. 11 See Guillaumin and Monat, Isidore de Séville. Étymologies. Livre VII, p. 168 [= p. 16], n. 2, and Elfassi, ‘Les noms du Christ’, pp. 248-249.

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hominis, in qua per adoptionis gratiam fratres habere dignatus est, quibus esset primogenitus. The reference to Rm 8:29, explained in the Differences, is reduced in the Etymologies to the simple mention of the name of Christ Primogenitus. Furthermore, Isidore adds a second source in the Etymologies, for which he notably borrows the formulation unigenitus […] sine fratribus: the Dicta regis Trasamundi et contra ea responsiones of Fulgentius of Ruspe.12 b) C. Secund. 19 Augustine, C. Secund. 19:13 Deus quippe summe bonus atque incommutabiliter bonus, omnia non summe nec incommutabiliter bona. Isidore, Eccl. off. II, 24, 3:14 Deus summe et incommutabiliter bonus, creatura uero inferius et mutabiliter bona. Isidore, Etym. VII, 1, 28:15 Summe bonus, quia incommutabilis est. Creatura uero bonum, sed non summum est, quia mutabilis est. Et dum sit quidem bonum, non tamen esse potest et summum.

For Etym. VII, 1, 28, Jean-Yves Guillaumin and Pierre Monat propose two more references:16 1) Augustine, Sermo 156, 6:17 Deus ergo summe bonus est; anima magnum bonum, sed non summum bonum. 2) Augustine, Contra duas epistulas Pelagianorum II, 9, 21:18 Summe atque incommutabiliter bonus est. But no other confirmed borrowing from the Sermo 156 and from the Contra duas epistulas Pelagianorum is known by Isidore.19 The parallel that I propose with the Contra Secundinum is also uncertain, but the parallel with Eccl. off. II, 24, 3 is quite important; and if Isidore really exploited the Contra Secundinum in the De ecclesiasticis officiis, then it is plausible that he did the same in the Etymologiae. 12 On this second source, see Elfassi, ‘Les noms du Christ’, p. 248. 13 CSEL 25, p. 934, l. 24-25. 14 CCSL 113, p. 100, l. 31-33. 15 ALMA, p. 17, l. 15-18. 16 See Guillaumin and Monat, Isidore de Séville. Étymologies. Livre VII, p. 161 [= p. 16], n. 9. 17 CCSL 41Ba, p. 144, l. 157-159. 18 CSEL 60, p. 482, l. 26. 19 The parallel between C. epist. Pelag. I, 16, 32 and Etym. XIX, 22, 5 is very doubtful: see below § 2.1.

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2) De dialectica The Augustinian authenticity of this treaty has, on occasion, been disputed.20 Be that as it may, it seems to have been known to Isidore. Here are the two borrowings I have spotted. a) Dialect. 2 Augustine, Dialect. 2:21 Quamuis enim uerba coniuncta sint ‘homo festinans in montem’, tamen adhuc pendet oratio. Isidore, Eccl. off. II, 11, 2:22 Vt in distinctionibus sententiarum intellegat ubi finiatur iunctura, ubi adhuc pendeat oratio, ubi sententia extrema claudatur. Isidore, Etym. II, 18, 2:23 Intellectum sensui praestat; sed adhuc pendet oratio.

I am the first to point out these parallels. In the second book of the Etymologies, the whole of Chapter 18 is extracted from Diomedes, this sentence being one of the only additions by Isidore to his model. P.K. Marshall 24 sees a reminiscence of Quintilian (IX, 4, 70): quaedam etiam clausulae sunt claudae atque pendentes si relinquantur, but it seems doubtful because the two texts are distant. The most probable source seems to be the De dialectica of Augustine. The context in which the formula tamen adhuc pendet oratio is found is quite similar to that of Isidore: in both cases, the author refers to a phrase that can be understood, ‘yet the sentence is still left hanging’. The passage from the De ecclesiasticis officiis quoted above is inspired by Quintilian I, 8, 1,25 but the precise phrase ubi adhuc pendeat oratio is lacking in the Institutio Oratoria. b) Dialect. 6 Augustine, Dialect. 6:26 Capillus quasi capiti pilus. Isidore, Etym. XI, 1, 28:27 Capilli uocati quasi capitis pili. 20 See Dekkers and Gaar, Clauis Patrum Latinorum, p. 135 (CPL 361), who question the authenticity of the work; conversely, Gryson, Répertoire général, p. 211, judges that its authenticity is ‘probable’. 21 Augustine, Dialect. 2, p. 84 [p. 6], l. 1-2. 22 CCSL 113, p. 70, l. 10-12. 23 ALMA, p. 69, l. 8-9. 24 See Marshall, Isidore of Seville. Etymologies. Book II, p. 69, n. 103. 25 See Banniard, ‘Le lecteur’, p. 118, n. 139, who compares Eccl. off. II, 11, 2 with Quintilian I, 8, 1, and Eccl. off. II, 11, 5 with Quintilian I, 8, 2. In Lawson’s edition of the De ecclesiasticis officiis, the apparatus fontium of II, 11, 2 indicates: ‘Quintilianus, Inst. Orat. I, 8, 5’, but it must be a misprint for ‘I, 8, 1’. 26 Augustine, Dialect. 6, p. 96 [p. 11], l. 8. 27 ALMA, p. 23, l. 3-4.

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This borrowing has already been reported by Robert Maltby28 and Fabio Gasti.29 3) De inmortalitate animae Augustine, Inmort. an. 1, 1:30 Est enim recta ratiocinatio a certis ad incertorum indagationem nitens cogitatio. Isidore, Diff. I, 157 (490):31 Ratiocinatio autem rationabilis est subtilisque disputatio atque a certis ad incertorum indagationem nitens cogitatio.

I have already mentioned this borrowing in an earlier article.32 4) De magistro Augustine, Mag. X, 33:33 Non enim mihi rem, quam significat, ostendit uerbum, cum lego ‘et sarabarae eorum non sunt commutatae’ [Dn 3:94]. Nam si quaedam capitum tegmina nuncupantur hoc nomine, num ego hoc audito aut quid sit caput aut quid sint tegmina didici? Isidore, Etym. XIX, 23, 2:34 Sarabarae sunt fluxa ac sinuosa uestimenta, de quibus legitur in Danielo: Et sarabarae eorum non sunt inmutatae [Dn 3:94]. […] Apud quosdam autem sarabarae quaedam capitum tegmina nuncupantur, qualia uidemus in capitibus Magorum picta.

This borrowing was spotted by Miguel Rodríguez-Pantoja.35 5) De octo Dulcitii quaestionibus Isidore’s borrowings from the De octo Dulcitii quaestionibus have been identified by Almut Mutzenbecher and, more recently, by Jean-Yves Guillaumin and Pierre Monat.36 Nevertheless, I would like to add a clarification. 28 See Maltby, A Lexicon, p. 104. It must be recalled that Maltby’s Lexicon is an excellent instrument for the search of sources: see Elfassi, ‘Festus chez Isidore’, p. 158. 29 See Gasti, Isidoro di Siviglia. Etimologie. Libro XI, p. 22, n. 51. 30 CSEL 89, p. 102, l. 8-10. 31 ALMA, p. 164, l. 13-14. 32 See Elfassi, ‘Nouvelles sources augustiniennes’, p. 216. 33 CCSL 29, p. 192, l. 118-122. 34 ALMA, p. 193, l. 1-3 and 6-8. 35 See Rodríguez-Pantoja, Isidoro de Sevilla. Etimologías. Libro XIX, pp. 192-193, n. 246. 36 Mutzenbecher, Sancti Aurelii Augustini De diuersis quaestionibus octoginta tribus, pp. 252-252 (index scriptorum); Guillaumin and Monat, Isidore de Séville. Étymologies. Livre VII, pp. 195-196 [= p. 66], n. 10.

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As Guillaumin and Monat indicate, it is impossible to know, in the case of Etym. VII, 5, 23, whether Isidore exploited the De octo Dulcitii quaestionibus or the De diuersis quaestionibus ad Simplicianum, because both texts are identical: Augustine, Dulc. quaest. VI, 3: 37 Vnde Cherubim, cum sint caelestes potestates, fictae tamen ex metallo, quod imperauit Deus, super arcam testamenti magnae rei significandae gratia, non aliud quam Cherubim illa quoque figmenta uocitantur. Augustine, Quaest. Simpl. II, 3, 2:38 Vnde Cherubim, cum sint caelestes potestates, fictae tamen ex metallo, quod imperauit Deus, super arcam Testamenti magnae rei significandae gratia, non aliud quam Cherubim illa quoque figmenta uocitantur. Isidore, Etym. VII, 5, 23:39 Ipsa sunt illa duo animalia super propitiatorium arcae ficta ex metallo, propter significandam angelorum praesentiam, in quorum medio ostenditur Deus.

What is certain, however, is that Isidore had access to the De octo Dulcitii quaestionibus independently of the De diuersis quaestionibus ad Simplicianum, because some of his borrowings are peculiar to the first treatise: Augustine, Dulc. quaest. VI, 2:40 Hoc a me beatae memoriae Simplicianus Mediolanensis episcopus aliquando quaesiuit. Isidore, Quaest. in I Reg. 20, 2: 41 De qua quaestione beatae memoriae Augustinus episcopus Simpliciano Mediolanensi episcopo ita scripsit. Augustine, Dulc. quaest. VI, 5: 42 Haec sunt quae tunc de pythonissa et Samuele rescripsi. Isidore, Quaest. in I Reg. 20, 12: 43 Haec sunt quae tunc de pythonissa et Samuele scripsit beatus Augustinus.

Conversely, Isidore takes several passages from Quaest. Simpl. that are not included in Dulc. quaest.: – Quaest. Simpl. II, 1, 4 and 11 > Quaest. in I Reg. 8, 1-4; 37 38 39 40 41 42 43

CCSL 44A, p. 284, l. 59-62. CCSL 44, pp. 83-84, l. 58-61. ALMA, p. 67, l. 12-15. CCSL 44A, p. 282, l. 3-4. PL 83, col. 407, l. A 11-13. CCSL 44A, p. 287, l. 120. PL 83, col. 410, l. A 8-10.

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– Quaest. Simpl. II, 1, 7 and 9–10 > Quaest. in I Reg. 14, 1-5; – Quaest. Simpl. II, 2, 3 > Diff. I, 36 (499). 44 6) Expositio epistulae ad Galatas Augustine, Exp. epist. ad Gal. 51, 3:45 Fornicatio est amor a legitimo connubio solutus et uagus explendae libidinis consectando licentiam. Isidore, Diff. I, 116 (263):46 Adulterium est coniugalis tori coinquinamentum, fornicatio uero amor legitimo coniugio solutus et uagus, explendae libidinis consectando licentiam.

As in the case of the De inmortalitate animae, I have already mentioned this borrowing in an earlier article. 47

2.

Augustine’s works probably not known to Isidore

1) Contra duas epistulas Pelagianorum We have already seen the Contra duas epistulas Pelagianorum in § 1.1b: Jean-Yves Guillaumin and Pierre Monat have indicated this treatise as a possible source of Etym. VII, 1, 28,48 but there is another possible source, the Contra Secundinum, whose presence is well attested in Isidore. However, José Carlos Martín-Iglesias includes the Contra duas epistulas Pelagianorum in his list, relying on another passage, in the book XIX of the Etymologies. We must therefore examine this passage: Augustine, C. epist. Pelag. I, 16, 32: 49 Neque enim sibi tunicas, ut totum corpus tegerent post peccatum, sed succinctoria consuerunt. […] Graecus περιζώματα posuit, quibus non teguntur nisi pudendae corporis partes […] uel sicut alii melius ‘campestria’ nominarunt. Ex illo quippe hoc nomen est, quod pudenda iuuenes tegebant antiquo more romano, quando nudi exercebantur in campo. 44 These borrowings are reported by Mutzenbecher, Sancti Aurelii Augustini. De diuersis quaestionibus ad Simplicianum, pp. 117-118 (index auctorum), except for the third (Diff. I, 36) that I spotted myself. 45 CSEL 84, p. 127, l. 16-18 46 ALMA, p. 144, l. 7-10. 47 See Elfassi, ‘Nouvelles sources augustiniennes’, pp. 216-217. 48 See Guillaumin and Monat, Isidore de Séville. Étymologies. Livre VII, p. 161 [= p. 16], n. 9. 49 CSEL 60, p. 448, l. 21-22; p. 448, l. 26-p. 449, l. 1; and p. 449, l. 3-6.

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Isidore, Etym. XIX, 22, 5: 50 Vestis antiquissima hominum fuit perizomatum, id est subcinctorium, quo tantum genitalia conteguntur. Hoc primum primi mortales e foliis arborum sibi fecerunt, quando post praeuaricationem erubescentes pudenda uelarunt; cuius usum quaedam barbarae gentes, dum sint nudae, usque hodie tenent. Haec et campestria nuncupantur, pro eo quod eisdem iuuenes, qui nudi exercentur in campo, pudenda operiunt.

Actually, Miguel Rodríguez-Pantoja indicates two other possible sources:51 Augustine, De nuptiis et concupiscentia II, 30, 52:52 Erubuerunt in paradiso, qui pudenda texerunt. […] Succinctoria quippe sibi de foliis ficulneis, non uestimenta fecerunt, quae succinctoria graece περιζώματα nuncupantur. Quid autem cooperiant perizomata, omnibus notum est, quae nonnulli latini campestria sunt interpretati. Quis autem ignorat qui campestrantur quas partes corporis contegant? Has enim tegebant Romani iuuenes, quando nudi exercebantur in campo. Augustine, De ciuitate Dei XIV, 17:53 Porro autem ‘campestria’ Latinum quidem uerbum est, sed ex eo dictum, quod iuuenes, qui nudi exercebantur in campo, pudenda operiebant.

These two sources seem plausible, especially Ciu. Dei XIV, 17 which is also in the background of Sent. II, 40, 5.54 On the contrary, the extract of the Contra duas epistulas Pelagianorum adds nothing to them. 2) De catechizandis rudibus José Carlos Martín-Iglesias indicates in his list the presence of the De catechizandis rudibus in the Allegoriae: it is based on the unpublished thesis of Dominique Poirel, duly mentioned in the bibliography.55 Since then, Martín-Iglesias has personally reviewed the sources of the Allegoriae and has come to the conclusion that the De catechizandis rudibus is not part 50 ALMA, p. 171, l. 12-13, and p. 173, l. 1-6. 51 See Rodríguez-Pantoja, Isidoro de Sevilla. Etimologías. Libro XIX, pp. 172-173, n. 212. 52 CSEL 42, p. 309, l. 2 and 6-11. 53 CCSL 48, p. 440, l. 39-41. 54 See Cazier, Isidorus Hispalensis. Sententiae, p. 177 (apparatus fontium). There is no real textual coincidence between Sent. II, 40, 5 and Ciu. Dei XIV, 17, but the reference to the gimnici recalls the gymnosophistae evoked by Augustine; and the link between Etym. XIX, 22, 5 and Ciu. Dei XIV, 17 confirms Cazier’s intuition. 55 See Martín-Iglesias, ‘La biblioteca cristiana’, p. 283.

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of them.56 Nothing further need to be said: since Poirel has left his work unpublished, without revising it, it would be both useless and inelegant to criticize it. We can also mention, for the record, Jacques Fontaine’s rapprochement between Sent. III, 13, 1 and Augustine, Catec. rud. 6, 10.57 As Fontaine correctly points out, it is a mere ‘association of ideas’, without any textual parallel, and what is more, about a ‘cliché’.58 3) De diuinatione daemonum Pierre Cazier, in his edition of the Sententiae, proposed, cautiously, to relate Isidore, Sent. I, 10, 17, and Augustine, De diuinatione daemonum III, 7.59 I have already shown in an earlier article that the source of the Sententiae here is rather Augustine, De Genesi ad litteram II, 17, 37.60 4) De fide et symbolo This case is similar to the previous one: a sentence in the Sententiae is related to an Augustinian text that is unknown elsewhere in Isidore; in fact, both passages are quite distant and the identification of the true source almost certainly eliminates the supposed source. Here is the sentence from the Sententiae: Isidore, Sent. I, 14, 18:61 Sedet Christus ad dexteram Patris, non ut dexteram corpoream habeat Pater, sed dextera Patris beatitudo est sicut sinistra miseria.

And here is the source proposed by Pierre Cazier (note, however, that he prefaces it with a ‘cf.’): Augustine, De fide et symbolo 7, 14:62 Credimus etiam, quod sedet ad dexteram Patris. Nec ideo tamen quasi humana forma circumscriptum esse Deum Patrem arbitrandum est, ut de illo cogitantibus dextrum aut sinistrum latus animo occurrat. […] Ad dexteram ergo intellegendum est dictum esse ‘in 56 See Idem, ‘Las fuentes de las Allegoriae’. I thank the author for sending me his article before publication. 57 See Fontaine, Isidore de Séville et la culture classique, p. 786, n. 2. 58 See Ibid., p. 1154 (addition to p. 786, n. 2). 59 CSEL 41, pp. 603-605. There is no value in copying Augustine’s text here, which, in any case, is too long. 60 See Elfassi, ‘New Sources of Isidorian Angelology’, p. 44, where an error (repeated on p. 54 and in summary p. 1) should be corrected: read diuinatione, not diuinitate (same error in MartínIglesias, ‘La biblioteca cristiana’, p. 261). 61 CCSL 111, p. 51, l. 111-113. 62 CSEL 41, p. 16, l. 11-14, and p. 16, l. 21-p. 17, l. 4.

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summa beatitudine’, ubi iustitia, pax et gaudium est, sicut ad sinistram haedi constituuntur, id est in miseria, propter iniquitatis labores atque cruciatus.

Admittedly, there are several parallels between the two passages: sedet ad dexteram Patris; dexteram […] beatitudine > dextera […] beatitudo; sinistram […] miseria > sinistra miseria. But there is also a text that is even closer: Augustine, De agone christiano XXVI, 28:63 Nec eos audiamus, qui negant ad dexteram Patris sedere filium. Dicunt enim: numquid Deus pater habet latus dextrum aut sinistrum sicuti corpora? Nec nos hoc de Deo patre sentimus; nulla enim forma corporis Deus definitur atque concluditur. Sed dextera Patris est beatitudo perpetua, quae sanctis promittitur; sicut sinistra eius rectissime dicitur miseria perpetua, quae inpiis datur.

The parallels are even clearer: ad dexteram patris sedere filium > sedet Christus ad dexteram Patris; sicuti corpora […] forma corporis > corpoream; dextera Patris est beatitudo > dextera Patris beatitudo est; sicut sinistra […] miseria > sicut sinistra miseria. We can add that the same passage of Augustine is exploited even more literally by Isidore in the De ecclesiasticis officiis:64 Isidore, Eccl. off. I, 33, 2:65 Dextera autem patris ad quam idem filius sedere creditur non est corporea, quod nefas est de Deo sentire, sed dextera patris est beatitudo perpetua quae sanctis in resurrectione promittitur, id est uniuersae ecclesiae quae est corpus Christi; sicut et sinistra eius recte intellegitur miseria et poena perpetua quae impiis dabitur.

5) De Genesi ad litteram imperfectus liber a) Gen. litt. imp. I, 3, 3 Augustine, Gen. litt. imp. I, 3, 3: 66 Esse autem omnia quae fecit Deus bona ualde: mala uero non esse naturalia; sed omne quod dicitur malum 63 CSEL 41, p. 128, l. 6-12. 64 The source is indicated in Lawson’s edition of the De ecclesiasticis officiis (CCSL 113, p. 38, apparatus fontium). 65 CCSL 113, p. 38, l. 14-19. 66 CSEL 28.1, p. 460, l. 6-11 and 16-22.

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aut peccatum esse aut poenam peccati nec esse peccatum nisi prauum liberae uoluntatis adsensum, cum inclinamur ad ea quae iustitia uetat et unde liberum est abstinere; id est non in rebus ipsis, sed in usu earum non legitimo. […] Poena uero peccati est, cum ipsis creaturis non sibi seruientibus cruciatur anima, cum Deo ipsa non seruit: quae creatura illi obtemperabat, cum ipsa obtemperabat Deo. Itaque non esse ignem malum, quia creatura Dei est; sed tamen uri eo inbecillitatem nostram ex merito peccati. Dici autem peccata naturalia, quae necesse est committi ante misericordiam Dei, postquam in hanc uitam per peccatum liberi arbitrii lapsi sumus. Isidore, Eccl. off. II, 17, 2:67 Paenitentia autem nomen sumpsit a poena qua anima cruciatur et mortificatur caro. Isidore, Sent. I, 11, 2:68 Quia enim boni sumus naturaliter conditi, culpae quodammodo merito contra naturam sumus effecti.

The rapprochement with Eccl. off. II, 17, 2, indicated by A.C. Lawson,69 is based on three common words: poena and anima cruciatur. But this parallel is inconclusive and both texts are otherwise very different. The rapprochement with Sent. I, 11, 2 is proposed by Pierre Cazier with caution,70 but both texts are very far apart. b) Gen. litt. imp. XV, 51, 3 Augustine, Gen. litt. imp. XV, 51, 3:71 Vt uesperae uocabulo significetur informis materia, quae quamuis ex nihilo facta est, est tamen et habet capacitatem specierum atque formarum. Isidore, Diff. II, 11, 30:72 Sed materia facta est de nihilo. Mundi autem species de informi materia. Isidore, Sent. I, 8, 7:73 Materia ex qua caelum terraque formata est, ideo informis uocata est, quia nondum ex ea formata erant quae formari restabant. Verum ipsa materia ex nihilo facta erat.

67 CCSL 113, p. 80, l. 15-16. 68 CCSL 111, p. 39, l. 16-17. 69 It should be noted that while the De ecclesiasticis officiis was edited by C.M. Lawson, the source study is due to his father, A.C. Lawson. 70 See Cazier, Isidorus Hispalensis. Sententiae, p. 39 (apparatus fontium). 71 CSEL 28.1, p. 495, l. 23-25. 72 CCSL 111A, p. 22 l. 10-11. 73 CCSL 111, p. 21, l. 33-35.

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I proposed relating the Isidorian texts and the Augustinian one in an article published in 2011,74 but I retracted the following year.75 I had suggested this comparison because of the parallel with the phrase informis materia […] ex nihilo facta est. But Isidore could have found the expressions informis materia and especially ex nihilo facta est in many other Augustinian texts. In fact, for Diff. II, 11, 30, there is only one essential source:76 Augustine, Confessiones XIII, 33, 48:77 Nam cum aliud sit caeli et terrae materies, aliud caeli et terrae species, materiem quidem de omnino nihilo, mundi autem speciem de informi materia, simul tamen utrumque fecisti, ut materiam forma nulla morae intercapedine sequeretur.

Isidore takes up the text of the Confessions almost verbatim: materiem quidem de omnino nihilo, mundi autem speciem de informi materia. For Sent. I, 8, 7, the source had already been spotted by Pierre Cazier:78 Augustine, Confessiones XII, 28, 39:79 Qui autem intellegunt in nominibus caeli et terrae adhuc informem materiam, de qua formaretur caelum et terra.

Laureano Robles suggests another source:80 Augustine, De Genesi contra Manichaeos I, 6, 10 and 7, 11:81 Et ideo Deus rectissime creditur omnia de nihilo fecisse, quia, etiamsi omnia formata de ista materia facta sunt, haec ipsa tamen materia de omnino nihilo facta est. […] Informis ergo illa materia quam de nihilo Deus fecit appellata est primo caelum et terra.

74 See Elfassi, ‘La création du monde’, pp. 189 and 191. 75 See Idem, ‘Chronique isidorienne II’, p. 41. 76 I have already reported this source in Elfassi, ‘Chronique isidorienne II’, p. 41 (it was mentioned neither by Pellegrino, ‘Le “Confessioni” di s. Agostino’, nor by Andrés Sanz, Isidori Hispalensis Liber Differentiarum [II]). 77 CCSL 27, p. 271, l. 8-12. 78 See Cazier, Isidorus Hispalensis. Sententiae, p. 21 (apparatus fontium). A detail correction must be added: Cazier indicates that Conf. XII, 29, 40 is a common source of Sent. I, 8, 6-7: in fact, Conf. XII, 29, 40 is rather the source of Sent. I, 8, 6 and Conf. XII, 28, 39 the source of Sent. I, 8, 7. 79 CCSL 27, p. 238, l. 25-27. 80 See Robles, ‘La presencia de san Agustín’, p. 117. 81 CSEL 91, resp. p. 76, l. 1-3, and p. 77, l. 1-2.

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Augustine’s text is quite far from Isidore, but the number of parallels between chapter I, 8 of the Sentences and the beginning of the De Genesi contra Manichaeos makes this connection plausible. 6) De XVI quaestionibus in Matthaeum Augustine, Quaest. in Matth. 15:82 Intellexistis haec omnia? Dicunt ei: etiam. Ait illis: ideo omnis scriba doctus in regno caelorum similis est homini patri familias, qui profert de thesauro suo noua et uetera [Mt 13:51–52]. Vtrum ista conclusione exponere uoluit quem dixerit thesaurum in agro absconditum, quoniam sanctae scripturae intelleguntur, quae nomine duorum testamentorum, noui et ueteris, concluduntur. Isidore, Alleg. 165:83 Paterfamilias, proferens ‘de thesauro suo noua et uetera’ [Mt 13:52], Christus est, proferens de impenetrabili sapientia sua gemina testamenta.

This source, indicated by José Carlos Martín-Iglesias,84 seems doubtful to me. We find the same exegesis of Mt 13:52 at the very beginning of the De Genesi ad litteram: Augustine, Gen. litt. I, 1, 1:85 Omnis diuina scriptura bipertita est secundum id, quod Dominus significat dicens scribam eruditum in regno Dei similem esse patri familias proferenti de thesauro suo noua et uetera, quae duo etiam testamenta dicuntur.

One may object that the excerpt of Gen. litt. I, 1, 1 is no closer to Alleg. 165 than that of Quaest. in Matth. 15, but it is certain that Isidore knew the De Genesi ad litteram. Moreover, there is no trace elsewhere in Isidore of the De XVI quaestionibus in Matthaeum. 7) A note about the De libero arbitrio Augustine, Lib. arb. I, 7, 17:86 (Euodius) Optime omnino et cognouisti et explicasti sententiam meam, si tamen scientia mala esse numquam potest. – (Augustinus) 82 83 84 85 86

CCSL 44B, p. 138, l. 1-8. PL 83, col. 120, l. B 2-4. See Martín-Iglesias, ‘Las fuentes de las Allegoriae’, p. 164. CSEL 28.1, p. 3, l. 4-7. CCSL 29, p. 222, l. 62-66.

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Nullo modo arbitror, nisi cum translato uerbo scientiam pro experientia dicimus: experiri enim non semper bonum est, sicut experiri supplicia. Isidore, Diff. I, 149 (186):87 Inter experientiam et scientiam. Experientia in malo dici potest, ut poenas expertus, scientia autem in bono tantum.

Carmen Codoñer indicates this source with a certain caution: according to her, the text of the Differences ‘seems’ adapted from Augustine.88 For his part, José Carlos Martín-Iglesias does not list the De libero arbitrio among Isidore’s sources.89 I confess that I am a little hesitant, hence the addition of this paragraph. Indeed, it must be recognized that Isidore is close to Augustine in meaning and I have not found any other possible source. Yet, both texts share few words in common, and what makes me doubt the presence of the De libero arbitrio in the library of Seville is that there is no trace of this work elsewhere in Isidore. Ultimately, but with some doubt, I prefer to exclude this treatise from Isidore’s sources. 8) A list of Augustine’s works known to Isidore To conclude the f irst two parts of this chapter, below is a list of 53 of Augustine’s works known to Isidore. Like any list of its kind, this one is provisional, because other sources of Isidore may be discovered and some of my conclusions may be disputed. – Aduersus Iudaeos – Confessiones – Contra Adimantum – Contra Faustum – Contra Felicem – Contra Maximinum – Contra mendacium – Contra Priscillianistas et Origenistas – Contra Secundinum – De agone christiano – De baptismo – De beata uita – De ciuitate Dei – De consensu euangelistarum – De continentia 87 ALMA, p. 162, l. 1-3. 88 Codoñer, Isidoro de Sevilla, p. 352. 89 See Martín-Iglesias, ‘La biblioteca cristiana’, which does not include the De libero arbitrio.

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– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Jacques Elfassi

De cura pro mortuis gerenda De dialectica De diuersis quaestionibus ad Simplicianum De diuersis quaestionibus octoginta tribus De doctrina christiana De excidio urbis Romae De Genesi ad litteram De Genesi contra Manichaeos De haeresibus De inmortalitate animae De magistro De moribus ecclesiae catholicae et de moribus Manichaeorum De musica De natura boni De nuptiis et concupiscentia De octo Dulcitii quaestionibus De opere monachorum De ordine De peccatorum meritis et remissione De quantitate animae De sancta uirginitate De sermone Domini in monte De symbolo ad catechumenos De Trinitate De uera religione Enarrationes in Psalmos Enchiridion de fide, spe et caritate Epistulae Expositio epistulae ad Galatas In Iohannis epistulam ad Parthos tractatus In Iohannis euangelium tractatus Ordo monasterii Quaestiones euangeliorum Quaestiones in heptateuchum Regula tertia uel Praeceptum Retractationes Sermones Soliloquia

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The use of Augustine by Isidore: Some brief remarks

In the first two parts of this chapter, I have insisted on the works of Augustine that Isidore could have had at his disposal, because this is the prerequisite for any research concerning the links between both authors. But such an approach is likely to be misleading: insisting on works that Isidore cited only a few sentences from could give the impression that he knew many of his predecessor’s texts, but that he used them sparsely. In reality, Isidore borrowed heavily from Augustine: some works, such as De ciuitate Dei, Contra Faustum, or Enarrationes in Psalmos were crucially exploited.90 Having established the list of Augustine’s works known by Isidore, it is necessary to then determine the list of all the passages of Augustine cited by Isidore. This is an immense, but not impossible task: most of Isidore’s works, and in particular most of the Etymologies books, have been the subject of a critical edition accompanied by a systematic study of their sources. Furthermore, the job has already been done for some of Isidore’s sources, such as Festus or Tertullian.91 For Augustine, it is probably necessary to carry out the task work by work, as Michele Pellegrino did for the Confessions.92 Once this job is done, it may be possible to establish Isidore’s place in the stemma of some works of Augustine: this kind of research, which I myself carried out on Tertullian,93 is fascinating because it illuminates the textual history of the works. To date, this job has been undertaken only partially and for only two works: Augustine’s Epistula 55 in Isidore’s De ecclesiaticis officiis94 and Augustine’s De Genesi contra Manichaeos in Isidore’s Quaestiones in Genesim.95 Here again, there is a huge task, but it is not impossible if one proceeds work by work. In the same perspective of the history of texts, it is necessary to mention Pierre-Maurice Bogaert’s remarkable article, which showed that Isidore probably had access to an original collection of Augustinian sermons.96 Will it be possible to make other discoveries of this kind? To discover, for example, 90 See Idem, ‘Isidore of Seville’, p. 1194. 91 See Elfassi, ‘Festus chez Isidore’, and Capone, ‘Tertulliano e Isidoro di Siviglia’ (to be supplemented by Elfassi, review of Capone). 92 See Pellegrino, ‘Le “Confessioni” di s. Agostino’ (this article should be supplemented and corrected, but this is not the place here). 93 See Elfassi, review of Capone. 94 See Lawson, Sancti Isidori episcopi Hispalensis De ecclesiasticis officiis, p. *160. . 95 See Jakobi, ‘Die Überlieferung von Augustinus’. 96 See Bogaert, ‘Le tractatus’; see also Elfassi, ‘Nouvelles sources augustiniennes’, pp. 217-223.

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that Isidore had access to other Augustinian collections (not necessarily of sermons), some of which may have survived into medieval times? As long as the job has not been done, it is impossible to know. As a philologist and historian of texts, I am naturally mostly interested in the history of texts. But it is evident that Augustine’s presence in Isidore cannot be studied without regard to his doctrinal influence: Augustine had a decisive influence on Isidore’s theology and his biblical exegesis; on this issue, again, José Carlos Martín-Iglesias offers a first sketch, which requires more depth.97 However, I would like to emphasize one point: contrary to what one might think, Isidore does not cite Augustine only as a theological authority, he also uses his work to define many technical terms. I shall take some examples from the book XV of the Etymologies: (1) Augustine, De ciuitate Dei XV, 8, 2:98 Ciuitas, quae nihil est aliud quam hominum multitudo aliquo societatis uinculo conligata. Isidore, Etym. XV, 2, 1:99 Ciuitas est hominum multitudo societatis uinculo adunata. (2) Augustine, Enarratio in Psalmum 118/10, 6:100 Platea quippe de uerbo Graeco a latitudine nomen accepit, quoniam Graece πλατύ dicitur latum. Isidore, Etym. XV, 2, 23:101 Plateae perpetuae ac latiores ciuitatum uiae sunt, iuxta proprietatem linguae Graecae a latitudine nuncupatae; platus enim Graeci latum dicunt. (3) Augustine, Enarratio in Psalmum 101/1, 7:102 Parietinae dicuntur quas uulgo dicimus ruinas, ubi parietes stant sine tecto, sine habitantibus. Isidore, Etym. XV, 8, 3:103 Parietinas dicimus quasi parietum ruinas; sunt enim parietes stantes sine tecto, sine habitantibus. (4) Augustine, De opere monachorum 23, 27: 104 Apothecae autem uel horrea uerbum ex uerbo repostoria dici possunt. Isidore, Etym. XV, 5, 8:105 Apotheca autem uel horrea a Graeco, uerbum e uerbo repostoria uel reconditoria dici possunt.

97 See Martín-Iglesias, ‘Isidore of Seville’, p. 1195. 98 CCSL 48, p. 464, l. 66-67. 99 ALMA, p. 29, l. 24, and p. 31, l. 1. 100 CSEL 95.2, p. 108, l. 23-24. 101 ALMA, p. 37, l. 16-18. 102 CSEL 95.1, p. 34, l. 15-17. 103 ALMA, p. 65, l. 18-20. 104 CSEL 41, p. 573, l. 10-11. 105 ALMA, p. 59, l. 10-12.

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(5) Augustine, Confessiones IX, 12, 32:106 Visum etiam mihi est, ut irem lauatum, quod audieram inde balneis nomen inditum, quia Graeci balanion dixerint, quod anxietatem pellat ex animo. Isidore, Etym. XV, 2, 40: 107 Balneis uero nomen inditum a leuatione maeroris; nam Graeci balanion dixerunt, quod anxietatem animi tollat.

While it is relatively predictable that the definition of the city comes from the City of God (see example 1), it may a priori seem more surprising that Isidore uses exegetical comments to explain the name of the high street (platea), or the parietinae, ruined walls (examples 2 and 3). But as these two terms are attested in the Psalms, the use of Enarrationes in Psalmos can be understood. Conversely, it is wholly unexpected to see the De opere monachorum as the source of an encyclopaedia, let alone the Confessions (examples 4 and 5). I have had the opportunity, at various conferences, to present such borrowings. Regularly, my listeners ask me the following question: ‘How do you interpret such borrowings? How do you explain that Isidore quotes Augustine so anecdotally?’ I admit that the f irst time I was asked this question, I did not know have an answer. But today, I tend to think that, at least in some cases, we must abandon the obsession with interpretation that is at the heart of our literary studies. It is generally thought that when a writer quotes an earlier author, he wants to say the same thing as him, or at least to say something similar in a similar context. If this is not the case, we deduce that this difference is necessarily significant: did he not deliberately say something else, for polemical reasons? Or, more subtly, in order to show that behind the seeming lack of any link between what he says and what his predecessor said, there is a hidden, deep connection, which is precisely suggested by the use of the quote? For my part, I may be blind or insensitive to Isidore’s second degree, locked in a positivism that makes me incapable of any interpretative exegesis, but I think that if Isidore borrows a formula from a predecessor, then it is not always necessary to look for an ‘ideological’ explanation: the formula in question pleased him, it seemed to him adequate for what he wanted to say, he had it in mind when he wrote his text, and that is all. And in the opposite direction, we might have to ask ourselves questions about our own conception of borrowing, of re-use: why should a writer like Isidore not use a source in a ‘free’ or ‘anecdotal’ way? If we look closely at the examples given above, however, we find that even in the passages where Isidore copied his source almost literally (which is 106 CCSL 27, p. 151, l. 50-52. 107 ALMA, p. 43, l. 10-12.

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certainly not always the case) he removed or added some words, or replaced words with quasi-synonyms: conligata > adunata (1); repostoria > repostoria uel reconditoria (4); pellat > tollat (5). How can we interpret such corrections? In the past, I showed that when Isidore, in copying Placidus, changes crassum into absurdum (Etym. X, 26), he does so under the influence of Augustine and this correction is significant.108 In another case, Isidore replaces a relatively rare Augustinian word (contremiscere, which left no trace in the Romance languages) with a contemporary word (deponere, which is at the origin of Castilian deponer).109 But these cases are exceptional: most of the time, the changes made by Isidore are actually very difficult to explain. For example, in sentence (1), why did he replace conligata with adunata? Did he want to insist on the unity of the city? In sentence (5), did he hold that tollere (‘suppress’) had a stronger meaning than pellere (‘chase’)? It is possible, but I doubt it a little: the meaning of words is still very close. Again, our academic education prompts us to try to interpret everything; all literary works on intertextuality start from the assumption that, when an author takes up an earlier text, and a fortiori when he modifies it, even slightly, it is necessarily significant and we must therefore look for an interpretation. I realize that my statement goes against everything we learn in our literary studies, but it is perhaps our conception of borrowing, our obsession with interpreting any parallel textual reference as significant, which is anachronistic and which should be revised, at least for a writer like Isidore. There are, however, more problematic cases, when Isidore seems to make Augustine say the opposite of what he actually said. I shall give two examples. The first concerns the doctrine of Creation: in Sent. I, 8, 5, Isidore draws on the Confessions (XI, 10, 12), but the argument he uses in favour of the Christian doctrine of Creation – that the will of God is identical to his very being – was, according to Augustine, an argument of his objectors. According to Pierre Cazier, Isidore may have made a mistake ‘because of a poorly made reading record or an imperfect memory of reading.’110 This is not impossible, but we can give a more positive interpretation of this passage: the Sevillian may have deliberately modified the text of his model to show that the identity of the being of God and his will is not contradictory to the immutability of God, a doctrine that is faithful to that of Augustine.111 The paradox of this passage is that Isidore gives the 108 See Elfassi, ‘Nam beneuolentia absurdum sonat’, pp. 51-52. 109 See Idem, ‘La langue des Synonyma’, p. 94. 110 See Cazier, Isidorus Hispalensis. Sententiae, p. LVI. 111 See Elfassi, ‘La création du monde’, p. 182.

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impression of saying the opposite of Augustine, ultimately to demonstrate the same thing. Another passage is even more surprising: in Etym. VI, 4, 5, Isidore praises the Vulgate, but with the words that Augustine (Doctr. Christ. I, 15, 22) used to speak about the Itala.112 Again, it can be assumed that Isidore read Augustine too quickly or, better still, that he believed, in good faith, that the Itala version was identical to the Vulgate.113 I do not believe this: Augustine clearly states that the Itala is translated from Greek and Isidore knew very well that the Hieronymian Vulgate was translated from Hebrew. Is Isidore trying to criticize Augustine? I do not believe that either: he does not particularly practice irony, this weapon that consists of using the words of others to better denounce them, and he has too much respect for his predecessor. In reality, I believe that the problem must be framed differently: for Isidore, an authority cannot be false, but it may be out of date.114 I am convinced that Isidore did not intend to contradict Augustine: he simply updated him. And he surely thought it was the way to be the most faithful to him. The reception of Augustine by Isidore is therefore multifaceted and sometimes it takes on unexpected aspects. Analysing Augustine’s presence in Isidore more precisely will be a considerable task. But such a survey is valuable because it will shed new light on two giants of Late Antiquity. And it is not an impossible task: we have the means today to conduct such an investigation, for at least two reasons. On the one hand, most of Isidore’s works have been the subject of a critical edition accompanied by a systematic study of their sources. On the other hand, this field of investigation has begun to be cleared, principally by José Carlos Martin-Iglesias: this work has tried, too, to contribute to such a clearing. Additional note: Since submitting this chapter to the editors, I discovered a new article by José Carlos Martín-Iglesias, ‘El tratado De haeresibus (CPL 1201) atribuido a Isidoro de Sevilla: notas en favor de una autoría discutida y primera edición completa del texto’, Filologia mediolatina, 25 (2018), pp. 139-174, which shows convincingly that the De haeresibus is probably authentic. He also indicates, among the ‘possible sources’ of this treaty, Augustine’s Contra academicos, De fide et symbolo, De XVI quaestionibus in 112 See Chaparro Gómez, Isidoro de Sevilla. Etimologías. Libro VI, p. 179, n. 4. 113 This hypothesis was advanced also in modern times by various scholars: see the works cited by Ayuso Marazuela, La Vetus Latina Hispana, I. Prolegómenos, p. 160. 114 See Inglebert, ‘Isidore de Séville’, p. 114: ‘It was hardly supposed in Antiquity that a tradition could be false. At best, it could be judged deformed or out of date.’

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Matthaeum and Sermo 156, but the parallels with these works seem doubtful to me. The source of DH 12, 2, rather than Serm.156, may be Augustine, En. in psalm. 73, 25 (source of Etym, VIII, 6, 15). Rather than from C. Acad., DH 12, 5 (scire – nihil) may come from Lactantius, Inst. III, 6, 20; as for the sentence Academici omnia incerta esse definiunt, it can have multiple sources, for example Lactantius, Inst. I, 6, 2, or Augustine, Ciu. IV, 30. I am more hesitant about Quaest. in Matth. and Fid. et symb., which really may have inspired DH 6, because I have not found any other likely source of this paragraph; but the parallels with both Augustinian works are quite limited. However, while I do not wholly agree with Martín-Iglesias about these hypothetical parallels, his article only confirms that the investigation in this area is far from being closed.

Abbreviations ALMA Auteurs Latins du Moyen Âge (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, since 1982) CCSL Corpus Christianorum. Series Latina (Turnhout: Brepols, since 1953) CSEL Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum (Vienna, by various publishers, 1866–2011, and then Berlin: De Gruyter, since 2014) PL Patrologia Latina (ed. Jacques Paul Migne, ed. prior, Paris: Migne, 1844–1864)

Works cited Andrés Sanz, María Adelaida, Isidori Hispalensis Liber Differentiarum [II] = CCSL 111A (Turnhout: Brepols, 2006). Augustine of Hippo, Contra Secundinum, ed. by Joseph Zycha, Sancti Aurelii Augustini opera. Sectio VI, pars 2. Contra Felicem… Contra Secundinum = CSEL 25 (Vienna: F. Tempsky, 1892). Augustine of Hippo, De Genesi ad litteram, ed. by Joseph Zycha, Sancti Aurelii Augustini opera. Sectio III, pars 2. De Genesi ad litteram…= CSEL 28.1 (Vienna: F. Tempsky, 1892). Augustine of Hippo, De Genesi ad litteram imperfectus liber, ed. by Joseph Zycha, Sancti Aurelii Augustini opera. Sectio III, pars 2. De Genesi ad litteram. De Genesi ad litteram inperfectus liber…= CSEL 28.1 (Vienna: F. Tempsky, 1892).

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Augustine of Hippo, De agone christiano, ed. by Joseph Zycha, Sancti Aurelii Augustini opera. Sectio V, pars 3. De fide et symbolo… De agone christiano…= CSEL 41 (Vienna: F. Tempsky, 1900). Augustine of Hippo, De diuinatione daemonum, ed. by Joseph Zycha, Sancti Aurelii Augustini opera. Sectio V, pars 3. De fide et symbolo… De diuinatione daemonum…= CSEL 41 (Vienna: F. Tempsky, 1900). Augustine of Hippo, De fide et symbolo, ed. by Joseph Zycha, Sancti Aurelii Augustini opera. Sectio V, pars 3. De fide et symbolo…= CSEL 41 (Vienna: F. Tempsky, 1900). Augustine of Hippo, De opere monachorum, ed by Joseph Zycha, Sancti Aureli Augustini opera. Sectio V, pars 3. De fide et symbolo… De opere monachorum…, CSEL 41 (Vienna: F. Tempsky, 1900). Augustine of Hippo, De nuptiis et concupiscentia, ed. by Karl Franz Urba and Joseph Zycha, Sancti Aureli Augustini Hipponensis episcopi opera. Sectio VIII, pars 2. De perfectione iustitiae hominis… De nuptiis et concupiscentia ad Valerium comitem = CSEL 42 (Vienna: F. Tempsky, 1902). Augustine of Hippo, Contra duas epistulas Pelagianorum, ed. by Karl Franz Urba and Joseph Zycha, Sancti Aureli Augustini Hipponensis episcopi opera. Sectio VIII, pars 1. De peccatorum meritis et remissione… Contra duas epistulas Pelagianorum = CSEL 60 (Vienna: F. Tempsky, 1913). Augustine of Hippo, De ciuitate Dei, ed. by Bernhard Dombart and Alfons Kalb, Sancti Aurelii Augustini De ciuitate Dei = CCSL 47-48 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1955). Augustine of Hippo, De diuersis quaestionibus ad Simplicianum, ed. by Almut Mutzenbecher, Sancti Aurelii Augustini De diuersis quaestionibus ad Simplicianum = CCSL 44 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1970). Augustine of Hippo, De libero arbitrio, ed. by William McAllen Green, in William McAllen Green and Klaus Detlef Daur, eds, Sancti Aurelii Augustini Contra academicos… De libero arbitrio = CCSL 29 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1970). Augustine of Hippo, De magistro, ed. by Klaus Detlef Daur, in William McAllen Green and Klaus Detlef Daur, eds, Sancti Aurelii Augustini Contra academicos… De magistro…= CCSL 29 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1970). Augustine of Hippo, Expositio epistulae ad Galatas, ed. by Johannes Divjak, Sancti Aureli Augustini opera. Sectio IV, pars 1. Expositio quarundam propositionum ex epistola ad Romanos. Epistolae ad Galatas expositio… = CSEL 84 (Vienna: Hoedler-Pichler-Tempsky, 1971). Augustine of Hippo, De dialectica, ed. by Belford Darrell Jackson and Jan Pinborg, Augustine. De dialectica (Dordrecht: D. Reidel, 1975). Augustine of Hippo, De diuersis quaestionibus octoginta tribus, ed. by Almut Mutzenbecher, Sancti Aurelii Augustini De diuersis quaestionibus octoginta tribus…= CCSL 44A (Turnhout: Brepols, 1975).

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Augustine of Hippo, De octo Dulcitii quaestionibus, ed. by Almut Mutzenbecher, Sancti Aurelii Augustini De diuersis quaestionibus octoginta tribus. De octo Dulcitii quaestionibus = CCSL 44A (Turnhout: Brepols, 1975). Augustine of Hippo, De XVI quaestionibus in Matthaeum, ed. by Almut Mutzenbecher, Sancti Aurelii Augustini Quaestiones euangeliorum, cum appendice Quaestionum XVI in Matthaeum = CCSL 44B (Turnhout: Brepols, 1980). Augustine of Hippo, Confessiones, ed. by Luc Verheijen, Sancti Augustini Confessionum libri XIII = CCSL 27 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1981). Augustine of Hippo, De inmortalitate animae, ed. by Wolfgang Hörmann, Sancti Aurelii Augustini opera. Sectio I, pars IV. Soliloquia. De inmortalitate animae…= CSEL 89 (Vienna: Hoedler-Pichler-Tempsky, 1986). Augustine of Hippo, De Genesi contra Manichaeos, ed. by Dorothea Weber, Sancti Augustini opera. De Genesi contra Manichaeos = CSEL 91 (Vienna: Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1998). Augustine of Hippo, Sermo 156, ed. by Gert Partoens, Sancti Aurelii Augustini Sermones in epistolas apostolicas. I, Sermones CLI-CLVI = CCSL 41Ba (Turnhout: Brepols, 2008). Augustine of Hippo, Enarrationes in Psalmos 101-109, ed. by Franco Gori with the collaboration of Claudio Pierantoni, Sancti Augustini Opera. Enarrationes in Psalmos 101-109 = CSEL 95.1 (Vienna: Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2011). Augustine of Hippo, Enarrationes in Psalmos 110-118, ed. by Franco Gori, Sancti Augustini Opera. Enarrationes in Psalmos 110-118 = CSEL 95.2 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2015). Ayuso Marazuela, Teófilo, La Vetus Latina Hispana. I, Prolegómenos, introducción general estudio y análisis de las fuentes (Madrid: CSIC, 1953). Banniard, Michel, ‘Le lecteur en Espagne wisigothique d’après Isidore de Séville: de ses fonctions à l’état de la langue’, Revue des Études Augustiniennes, 21 (1975), pp. 112-144. Bogaert, Pierre-Maurice, ‘Le tractatus “De filio Abraham ducto ad sacrificium” dans un antique recueil de sermons d’Augustin utilisé par Isidore de Séville’, in Amicorum Societas. Mélanges offerts à François Dolbeau pour son 65e anniversaire, ed. by Jacques Elfassi, Cécile Lanéry, and Anne-Marie Turcan-Verkerk, Millennio Medievale 96, Strumenti e studi n. s. 34 (Florence: SISMEL-Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2013), pp. 69-87. Capone, Alessandro, ‘Tertulliano e Isidoro di Siviglia’, in Auctor et Auctoritas in Latinis Medii Aevi Litteris. Proceedings of the VIth Congress of the International Medieval Latin Committee (Benevento-Naples, November 9-13, 2010), ed. by Edoardo D’Angelo and Jan Ziolkowski, MediEVI 4 (Florence: SISMEL-Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2014), pp. 157-198. Cazier, Pierre, Isidorus Hispalensis. Sententiae = CCSL 111 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1998).

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Chaparro Gómez, César, Isidoro de Sevilla. Etimologías. Libro VI. De las Sagradas Escrituras = ALMA (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2012). Codoñer, Carmen, Isidoro de Sevilla. Diferencias, libro I = ALMA (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1992). Dekkers, Eligius and Aemilius Gaar, Clavis Patrum Latinorum, 3rd ed. (Steenbrugge: in Abbatia Sancti Petri, 1995). Delmulle, Jérémy, ‘Un recueil augustinien utilisé par Sedulius Scottus’, Aevum, 91 (2017), pp. 311-342. Elfassi, Jacques, ‘La langue des Synonyma d’Isidore de Séville’, Archivum Latinitatis Medii Aevi (Bulletin du Cange), 62 (2004), pp. 59-100. Elfassi, Jacques, ‘La création du monde chez Isidore de Séville. Quelques remarques sur le c. XI du second livre des Différences et le c. I, 8 des Sentences’, in La Création chez les Pères, ed. by Marie-Anne Vannier, Recherches en littérature et spiritualité 19 (Bern: Peter Lang, 2011), pp. 177-197. Elfassi, Jacques, ‘Chronique isidorienne II (2010-2011)’, Eruditio Antiqua, 4 (2012), pp. 19-63. Elfassi, Jacques, ‘Les noms du Christ chez Isidore de Séville (Etym. VII, 2)’, in La christologie et la Trinité chez les Pères, ed. by Marie-Anne Vannier (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 2013), pp. 241-272, esp. pp. 248-249. Elfassi, Jacques, ‘Nam beneuolentia absurdum sonat (Isidore de Séville, Etym. X, 26): une question de prononciation?’, Eruditio Antiqua, 5 (2013), pp. 47-54. Elfassi, Jacques, ‘Festus chez Isidore de Séville’, Eruditio Antiqua, 6 (2014), pp. 153-214. Elfassi, Jacques, review of Capone, ‘Tertulliano e Isidoro di Siviglia’, in ‘Chronica Tertullianea et Cyprianea 2014’, no. 57, Revue d’études augustiniennes et patristiques, 61 (2015), pp. 357-360. Elfassi, Jacques, ‘New Sources of Isidorian Angelology (Sententiae I.10)’, Visigothic Symposium 1 (2016-2017), Law and Theology, pp. 38-56, https://visigothicsymposia. org/jacques-elfassi/ (Accessed on 14 August 2019). Elfassi, Jacques, ‘Nouvelles sources augustiniennes dans le premier livre des Différences d’Isidore de Séville’, in Formas de acceso al saber en la Antigüedad Tardía y la Alta Edad Media. La transmisión del conocimiento dentro y fuera de la escuela, ed. by David Paniagua and María Adelaida Andrés Sanz, Textes et Études du Moyen Âge 84 (Barcelona-Rome: Fédération internationale des instituts d’études médiévales, 2016), pp. 211-226. Elfassi, Jacques, ‘Nuevas fuentes en la biblioteca de Isidoro de Sevilla’, in Latinidad medieval hispánica. Actas del VI Congreso internacional de latín medieval hispánico, La Nucía (Alicante), 20-23 de noviembre de 2013, ed. by Juan Franciso Mesa Sanz, MediEVI 14 (Florence: SISMEL-Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2017), pp. 107-116. Fontaine, Jacques, Isidore de Séville et la culture classique dans l’Espagne wisigothique, 2nd ed., 3 vols, Collection des Études Augustiniennes. Série Antiquité, 100-102 (Paris: Études augustiniennes, 1983).

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Gasti, Fabio, Isidoro di Siviglia. Etimologie. Libro XI. De homine et portentis = ALMA (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2010). Gryson, Roger, Répertoire général des auteurs ecclésiastiques latins de l’Antiquité et du haut Moyen Âge, Vetus Latina: Die Reste der Altlateinischen Bibel 1/1, 5th ed. (Freiburg: Herder, 2007). Guillaumin, Jean-Yves and Pierre Monat, Isidore de Séville. Étymologies. Livre VII. Dieu, les anges, les saints = ALMA (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2012). Inglebert, Hervé, ‘Isidore de Séville en son monde : lieux, peuples, époques’, Antiquité Tardive, 23 (2015), pp. 109-122. Isidore of Seville, Allegoriae, ed. by Jacques Paul Migne, PL 83 (Paris: Migne, 1850) [= Faustino Arévalo, Sancti Isidori Hispalensis episcopi Hispaniarum doctoris opera omnia, t. 5 (Rome: typis Antonii Fulgonii, 1802)]. Isidore of Seville, Quaestiones in Vetus Testamentum, ed. by Jacques Paul Migne, PL 83 (Paris: Migne, 1850) [= Faustino Arévalo, Sancti Isidori Hispalensis episcopi Hispaniarum doctoris opera omnia, t. 5 (Rome: typis Antonii Fulgonii, 1802)]. Isidore of Seville, Etymologiae. Liber II, ed. by Peter K. Marshall, Isidore of Seville. Etymologies. Book II. Rhetoric = ALMA (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1983). Isidore of Seville, De ecclesiasticis officiis, ed. by Christopher M. Lawson, Sancti Isidori episcopi Hispalensis De ecclesiasticis officiis = CCSL 113 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1989). Isidore of Seville, Differentiae. Liber I, ed. by Carmen Codoñer, Isidoro de Sevilla. Diferencias, libro I = ALMA (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1992). Isidore of Seville, Etymologiae. Liber XIX, ed by Miguel Rodríguez-Pantoja, Isidoro de Sevilla. Etimologías. Libro XIX. De naves, edificios y vestidos = ALMA (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1995). Isidore of Seville, Sententiae, ed. by Pierre Cazier, Isidorus Hispalensis. Sententiae = CCSL 111 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1998). Isidore of Seville, Differentiae. Liber II, ed. by María Adelaida Andrés Sanz, Isidori Hispalensis Liber differentiarum [II] = CCSL 111A (Turnhout: Brepols, 2006). Isidore of Seville, Etymologiae. Liber XI, ed. by Fabio Gasti, Isidoro di Siviglia. Etimologie. Libro XI. De homine et portentis = ALMA (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2010). Isidore of Seville, Etymologiae. Liber VII, ed. by Jean-Yves Guillaumin and Pierre Monat, Isidore de Séville. Étymologies. Livre VII. Dieu, les anges, les saints = ALMA (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2012). Isidore of Seville, Etymologiae. Liber XV, ed. by Jean-Yves Guillaumin with the collaboration of Pierre Monat, Isidore de Séville. Étymologies. Livre XV. Les constructions et les terres = ALMA (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2016). Jakobi, Rainer, ‘Die Überlieferung von Augustinus, De Genesi contra Manichaeos’, Augustinianum, 44 (2004), pp. 437-442.

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Lawson, Christopher M., Sancti Isidori episcopi Hispalensis De ecclesiasticis officiis = CCSL 113 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1989). Maltby, Robert, A Lexicon of Ancient Latin Etymologies = Arca 25 (Liverpool: F. Cairns, 1991). Marshall, Peter K., Isidore of Seville. Etymologies. Book II: Rhetoric = ALMA (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1983). Martín-Iglesias, José Carlos, ‘Isidore of Seville’, in The Oxford Guide to the Historical Reception of Augustine, ed. by Karla Pollmann, 3 vols (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), II, pp. 1193-1196. Martín-Iglesias, José Carlos, ‘La biblioteca cristiana de los Padres hispanovisigodos (siglos VI-VII)’, Veleia, 30 (2013), pp. 259-288. Martín-Iglesias, José Carlos, ‘Las fuentes de las Allegoriae quaedam sanctae scripturae (CPL 1190) de Isidoro de Sevilla’, Euphrosyne, n. s. 46 (2018), pp. 143-179. Mutzenbecher, Almut, Sancti Aurelii Augustini. De diuersis quaestionibus ad Simplicianum = CCSL 44 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1970). Mutzenbecher, Almut, Sancti Aurelii Augustini De diuersis quaestionibus octoginta tribus. De octo Dulcitii quaestionibus = CCSL 44A (Turnhout: Brepols, 1975). Pellegrino, Michele, ‘Le “Confessioni” di s. Agostino nell’opera di s. Isidoro di Siviglia’, in Isidoriana. Estudios sobre San Isidoro de Sevilla en el XIV Centenario de su nacimiento, ed. by Manuel Cecilio Díaz y Díaz (León: Centro de estudios ‘San Isidoro’, 1961), pp. 223-270. Robles, Laureano, ‘La presencia de san Agustín en las Sentencias de Isidoro de Sevilla, Estudios de Metafísica, 1 (1970-1971), pp. 109-122. Rodríguez-Pantoja, Miguel, Isidoro de Sevilla. Etimologías. Libro XIX. De naves, edificios y vestidos = ALMA (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1995).

About the author Jacques Elfassi is Senior Lecturer in Classics at the University of Lorraine (France) and member of the Research Center Écritures (EA 3943). He is a former student of the ENS Ulm and was a member of the Casa Velázquez (Madrid) in 2000-2002. He received his PhD in Latin Philology in 2001 from the ÉPHÉ (Paris), where he was supervised by Professor François Dolbeau, and holds a Professorial Thesis from Paris-IV (Sorbonne) since 2014. A specialist of History of Texts, Patristics, Late Latin, and Roman Erudition, his research deals mainly with Isidore of Seville. Among numerous publications, he authored the first critical edition of Isidore’s Synonyma; most of his current research deals with Isidore’s works.

3.

The Bishop and the Word: Isidore of Seville and the Production of Meaning Dolores Castro

Abstract This chapter examines modes of exercising power in the early Middle Ages, focusing on the figure of the bishop in the Visigothic Kingdom of Toledo. It explores several aspects of the study and interpretation of the Bible during that period, with the aim of establishing the bishop’s role in the task of interpreting, communicating, and controlling the sacred message. The chapter focuses on the work of Isidore of Seville, bishop c. 600–636. It examines methods of reading, interpreting, and teaching biblical texts adopted and elaborated in Isidorian writings in order to assess the scope of the bishop’s authority, especially his role in the production of meaning and the construction of truth – two processes on which seventh-century episcopal power rested. Keywords: Isidore of Seville, Church, Bible, Education

In the early seventh century, Bishop Isidore of Seville (d. 636), immersed in the political and religious concerns arising from the reality of Spain under Visigothic rule, exhibited in a variety of writings of different genres the importance of Scriptures and their correct interpretation. Whilst extensive and complex exegetical commentaries are not found among the works of Isidore, as Jacques Fontaine1 previously noted, there remained a profound interest in achieving a true understanding of the biblical text that ran through his entire life and ecclesiastical career. More precisely, this central concern constituted a key element of the pastoral and pedagogical 1 See Fontaine, ‘Isidore de Séville, pédagogue’ and Fontaine, Isidoro de Sevilla. Génesis y originalidad.

Dell’ Elicine, E. and C. Martin (eds), Framing Power in Visigothic Society. Discourses, Devices, and Artefacts. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2020 doi 10.5117/9789463725903_ch03

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activity of Isidore, which also encompassed the education of clerics and the homogenization of practices regarding the administration of sacraments and liturgical rites performed in the churches throughout the peninsula. Indeed, a clergy instructed in the divine Word, capable of guiding the flock, and interpreting the will of God on earth, was considered indispensable in order to achieve the difficult and uncertain path to salvation. The exegetical activity of Isidore is thus framed in this set of concerns that made the communication of the biblical message not only a pastoral need, that of a bishop at the head of his congregation, but also a political one, consolidating Hispalis as a centre of indisputable power within the Hispanic context of the seventh century. This essay will explore several aspects involved in the study and interpretation of the Bible during the Visigothic period – techniques and methods of work, interpretative principles, and reading practices – with the aim of establishing the crucial role of the bishop in the task of interpreting, communicating, and controlling the sacred message. More specifically, such a study will reveal a great deal about the significant place of the Bible in the pastoral programme of Isidore of Seville, deeply intertwined with pedagogical concerns related to the instruction of churchmen and the apprehension of the essential teachings of the Word.2 As Fontaine once again highlighted, the main feature of Isidore’s exegetical work was the creation of tools that encouraged and enhanced the transmission of a biblical knowledge aimed at a heterogeneous audience, mostly of clerical background.3 Given the absence of extensive biblical commentaries in the Isidorian repertoire, this perspective will explore how the Isidore-exegete, while operating and moving through the interstices of different genres and registers, provided the reader with the revealed Word channelled in a wide variety of forms, combining biblical content and patristic tradition, which profoundly connected his pastoral mission to the particular needs of his community. 2 On the education of bishops in Late Antiquity, see Rapp, Holy Bishops, pp. 178-183. 3 Fontaine, ‘Isidore de Séville, pédagogue’, p. 423: ‘Il a pourtant créé un genre nouveau de manuels élémentaires de pédagogie biblique et exégétique. Et il a poursuivi, dans la plupart de ses autres ouvrages, une réflexion qui élargit la notion même d’exégèse, en montrant que celle-ci reste d’abord – selon le sens antique du mot une activité intellectuelle fondamentale, commune à toutes les formes de culture’. (‘However, he has created a new genre of basic guidelines of Biblical and exegetical pedagogy. He has sought, in most of his other works, a reflection that would enlarge the notion of exegesis itself, showing that it is – according to the ancient meaning of the word— an essential intellectual activity, shared by every form of culture’).

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Rooted in the patristic tradition (from Origen to Gregory the Great)4 and at the head of the episcopal seat of Hispalis, Isidore, in his works, updated ancient models in order to communicate the Word and strengthen religious unity around the Nicene creed, recently achieved and officialized at the III Council of Toledo (589). In this context, barely a decade after the events that led to the definitive abandonment of Arianism in the peninsula, Hispalis, metropolis of Baetica since the middle of the fifth century, became one of the most important centres of orthodoxy of the period. Moreover, during the episcopate of Isidore, the city consolidated its role as a major producer and circulator of manuscripts and functioned on different occasions as the seat of provincial synods in which the bishop played once again a leading role. In so doing, Isidore was also following closely the steps of his elder brother, Leander of Seville, whom he had succeeded in the episcopal office around the year 600. Endowed with great biblical and patristic erudition, Leander, who was himself a tireless defender of the Catholic doctrine, left a living imprint on his younger brother: the image of an expert, that of a true doctor ecclesiae (‘doctor of the Church’).5 4 The ancient exegetes have left an undoubted stamp in the exegetical and theological thought of Isidore of Seville. Although it is not an aim of this study to focus on the patristic sources, it is noteworthy to indicate the most important inf luences on Isidore, namely, Augustine of Hippo, Jerome, and Gregory the Great. Fontaine ‘Isidore de Séville, pédagogue’, p. 426: ‘Du premier, l’exégèse des Psaumes et de la Genèse, sans compter l’exégèse dispersée en de grands traités polémiques et doctrinaux comme le Contre Fauste et la Cité de Dieu. Du second, les commentaires sur petits et grands prophètes, et parfois aussi bien des lettres de consultations exégétiques. Cette prédominance d’Augustin et de Jérôme explique en partie le caractère équilibré de l’exégèse isidorienne, aussi attentive à la visée pastorale qu’à la précision intellectuelle et quasi technique. Le ‘troisième grand’ de ces auctores repérables dans les oeuvres non exégétiques d’Isidore est Grégoire le Grand, qui accentua l’augustinisme du Sévillan en un sens à la fois moral et spirituel.’ (‘From the f irst of them, the exegesis of the Psalms and the Genesis, besides the exegesis scattered in major polemic and dogmatic treaties such as Against Faustus and The City of God. From the second one, the commentaries on minor and major prophets, and also maybe many letters of exegetic inquiries. Such predominance of Augustine and Jerome explains to a large extent the balanced nature of Isidore’s exegesis, as attentive to the pastoral dimension as to displaying an intellectual and nearly technical accuracy. The “third major f igure” of these auctores apparent in Isidore’s non-exegetical works is Gregory the Great, who enhanced Isidore’s Augustinism both in moral and spiritual terms’). Since this last contribution, scholars have continued to explore the f ield. For further studies see: Martín, ‘La biblioteca cristiana’ and Elfassi, ‘Connaître la bibliothèque’. 5 According to Isidore, who, in his De viris illustribus, dedicates an entry to his brother, Leander would have composed a series of works mainly concerned with the controversy regarding the Arian heresy and the liturgy, in addition to his letters and the treatise addressed to his sister Florentina.

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However, the control of mechanisms involved in the elucidation of the mysteries of faith constituted only one element of a much broader and complex web that connected the elites of the Visigothic kingdom: the regulation of the divine message – its forms of transmission and of correct interpretation – meant to intervene in the perception of the world and its history, of man and his ultimate destiny. Therefore, the communication and teaching of the Word took different forms according to specific purposes, interests, and concerns: methods of work; literary genres; and rhetorical strategies were combined in different ways in the exegetical practice of the Visigothic clergy.

Guidelines and methods: Notes on the biblical exegesis of Isidore of Seville Ever since the first centuries of Christianity, the interpretation of what is now known as the Old Testament embodied for Christian theologians and exegetes the hermeneutic problem par excellence. Several attitudes towards Old Testament writings emerged, which oscillated between radically different forms of acceptance and absolute rejection. Even among those who admitted the Jewish heritage, different interpretative streams appeared, which established the need to define a Christian doctrine and, at the same time, a closed corpus of canonical texts. Throughout Late Antiquity, the interpretation of the Hebrew texts had been at the centre of theological and exegetical thinking and a wide variety of techniques and procedures of different origin were adapted for that purpose. However, despite the patristic efforts to forge and establish a unique Christian reading of the Jewish Bible, this issue remained an area of great concern. In order to counteract and exhaust all kinds of questions regarding the Old Testament interpretation, Isidore dedicated a chapter of the Sententiae6 to explaining the difference between both testaments. With brevity, a distinguished feature of his style,7 the Bishop of Hispalis summarized his thoughts in three main points. 6 For date of Sententiae, see: Martín, ‘Une nouvelle’. 7 Brevity was a constant feature in the work of Isidore; moreover, the brief nature of some of his works responded to the specific interests of a bishop dedicated to transmitting biblical truths to a wide audience, which included both clergy and laity. Likewise, the task of communicating the wisdom of the ancients was also a testimony to the capacity of Isidore, who thus exhibited his exceptional skill in understanding the Sacred Scriptures, based on a joint work on the biblical text and on the knowledge of the Christian authors. In short, Isidore behaved like a true doctor,

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First, he rejected the position of those who refused to accept the Old Testament8 since, he argued, the wisdom of God had ordered and disposed all things according to what was appropriate to each moment.9 This statement rested primarily on a scriptural basis, and Isidore made use of a set of biblical passages in order to illustrate his ideas. He also opposed the injunction of marriage ordered by Mosaic Law to the virginity advised in the Gospel (as read in Mt. 19:10-12 and 1 Cor. 7:38), and the ancient penalty of talion (synthesized in the rubric ‘an eye for an eye’) to the ‘turning of the other cheek’, as taught in Mt. 5:38-39.10 It should be noted, though, that at no time did Isidore attempt to define or identify those ‘others’ who entered into the misinterpretation of the Hebrew books.11 He sought to correct and teach the true position instead. Second, he described those who received an authorized mediator of tradition. On brevity and its role in the modes of communication of Late Antiquity, see Wood, ‘Brevitas’. 8 According to González Salinero, in Hispania, positions of this nature can be traced back to the fourth century. In this period, the anti-Jewish tradition developed by the ancient Fathers took root strongly in the peninsula, where authors like Prudentius appropriated, as tradition had already done, the biblical Jewish past. González Salinero, ‘La polémica antijudía’, p. 126: ‘[…] Es cierto que al compartir unas mismas Escrituras Sagradas, la “disolución” del judaísmo exigía de la Iglesia una dialéctica diferente que salvaguardara, en cualquier caso, la continuidad del Antiguo Testamento en el Nuevo para evitar, frente al paganismo, cualquier sospecha de novedad en el credo cristiano. Prudencio debe seguir en este punto las huellas dejadas por la tradición cristiana y construir, a partir del uso alegórico de las Escrituras, un discurso apologético que permitiera reafirmar la identidad religiosa del nuevo pueblo de Israel a partir de la llegada de Cristo.’ (‘[…] Admittedly, sharing the same Scriptures, the ‘dissolution’ of Judaism required from the Church a different dialectic, able to safeguard the continuity of the Old Testament in the New One, so as to avoid before Paganism any suspicion of novelty in the Christian Creed. Prudentius in this regard has to follow the traces left by Christian tradition and, based on the allegorical use of the Scriptures, has to build up an apologetic discourse reasserting the religious identity of the new People of Israel since Christ’s arrival’). 9 Isidore, Sententiae I, 20, 1, p. 71. All Latin references are to the critical edition by Pierre Cazier, Isidorus Hispalensis Sententiae. 10 See Isidore, Sententiae I, 20, 1, pp. 71-72. Quidam ideo non recipiunt uetus testamentum, pro eo quod aliud in tempore prisco, aliud agatur in nouo, non intellegentes quod Deus quid cuique congruerit tempori magna quadam distributione concesserit, sicut in lege imperat nuptias, in euangelio uirginitatem; in lege oculum pro oculo auferri, in euangelio alteram praebere percutienti maxillam. (‘Certain people do not accept the Old Testament, because of the fact that something is done one way in ancient times and differently in the new, not understanding that God will grant in a certain great providence that which is appropriate to each time, as for example, in the law, he commands marriage [cf. Dt. 25 5-10]; in the Gospel, virginity [cf. Mt. 19, 12]; in the law that an eye be offered for an eye [cf. Ex. 21-24; Dt 19-21]; in the Gospel that one offer the other cheek to the one striking [cf. Mt. 5: 38-39]’). Trans. Knoebel, p. 73. 11 In the catalogue of Christian heresies that Isidore elaborates in Etymologiae, the Severians and the Manichees are the only sects accused of not accepting the Old Testament. See Isidore, Etymologiae VIII, v, 24-31, Barney trans., p.176.

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the old precepts as a fragile people ( fragilis populus) in contrast to the perfect people, recipients of the Gospel. Third, he claimed that in the Old Testament sins implied less responsibility, because the Truth had not yet been revealed. Therefore, certain actions, such as fornication, were either allowed or did not suppose the same degree of gravity.12 From this perspective, Isidore, by insisting on the need to accept the Old Testament, perpetuated the principle of the unity of the Scriptures, as observed in the patristic tradition. However, he was fully aware that the patristic teachings, both in message and meaning, were not entirely perceptible or self-evident for everyone. Therefore, a particular effort was required to achieve true interpretation and to recognize the signs that had announced the coming of Christ. Isidore evoked the same principle in his Etymologiae, in which he affirmed that ‘The Old Testament is so called because it ceased when the New came.’13 With these words, the Bishop defined the aforementioned relationship between both alliances and taught one of the fundamental pillars of the Christian tradition. The importance of the New Testament was thus understood in a temporal and hermeneutical key, since only in the light of the New Testament could the Ancient be fully apprehended: the meaning of Old Testament characters, events, and institutions was modified in their entirety through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.14 In other words, the Old and New Testaments were necessarily connected, forming a unity in Christ, a unity that showed the continuity of God’s work. Still, important questions remained about how to grasp the true meaning of the biblical texts and how to apprehend the Divine Word through the language of men. In the Sententiae, Isidore indicated that there were three senses or ways of interpreting the Sacred Scripture: historical or literal meaning; metaphorical or moral; and mystic or spiritual sense.15 But none of these was thoroughly described or explained. This is noteworthy for several reasons. As previously remarked, Isidore was addressing an audience, mostly 12 The difference between the Old and the New Testament is also noted in his work Differentiae. See Isidore, Differentiae II, XXXI, Andrés Sanz, ed., Liber Differentiarum (II), p. 79. 13 Isidore, Etymologiae VI, i, 1, Barney trans., p.135. 14 On the relationship between the Old and the New Testaments, see de Lubac, Exégèse, pp.305-363, and Young, Biblical Exegesis, among others. 15 See Isidore, Sententiae I, 18, 12, p. 64: Lex diuina triplici sentienda est modo: primo ut historice, secundo ut tropologice, tertio ut mystice intellegatur. Historice namque iuxta litteram, tropologice iuxta moralem scientiam, mystice iuxta spiritalem intellegentiam. (‘Divine Law should be understood in a threefold manner: first, it ought to be understood as historical, second as tropological, third as mystical. Historically it is understood in a literal sense; tropologically as a moral knowledge; mystically as an spiritual understanding’). Trans. Knoebel, p. 69.

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of clerics, who were probably already aware of this classification. Indeed, the Bishop himself had referred to this enumeration of biblical senses in other works,16 rendering unnecessary further instructions. It is also likely that Isidore wanted to avoid intricate thoughts that may confuse potential recipients. However, Isidore knew that such a complex intelligence could only be achieved by a few, since the codification of multiple intelligences admitted the existence of multiple layers contained in the biblical text, whose elucidation was necessary to apprehend the revealed message. Hence, the definition of an adequate procedure constituted in itself the index of an elaborated expertise. Despite the fact that a hermeneutical method was indeed necessary to study the sacred texts, Isidore acknowledged that a true interpretation could only be achieved by exercising faith in Christ. This represents a key aspect of the Isidorian thought, since, as implied, an authentic exegesis of the divine message could be fully apprehended only within the Christian church.

The Bible and the pedagogical programme of Bishop Isidore of Seville In the Sententiae, Isidore dealt with the treatment of exegetical principles mainly in two chapters entitled De Lege (‘On Law’) and De septem regulis legis (‘On the seven rules of Law’),17 both included in the first book of the work, devoted to basic doctrinal knowledge. However, a larger set of chapters aimed at exhorting, regulating, and disciplining the act of reading the Scriptures are found in the third and last section. By organizing this set of guidelines, Isidore taught not only how to read or approach the sacred page, but also 16 Isidore addresses these three levels of exegesis with greater depth in his work De fide catholica contra iudaeos. See Drews, The Unknown Neighbour, pp. 70-82. In the Differentiae, he also displays a classification of three levels. Isidore, Differentiae II, XL, ed. by Andrés Sanz, pp.100-101. 17 In this chapter, Isidore mentions the exegetical rules of Tyconnius. Therefore, the biblical interpretation appears as a practice governed by a series of specif ic guidelines, linking the exegetical task with a small sector capable of identifying and understanding the divine message. Beyond the content, the mere existence of rules helped to channel the interpretation of the sacred texts. The method itself establishes a division and recognizes the existence of a few who, guided by Isidore, embark on the path of interpreting the Scriptures. The explanation of specific aspects of the Word reflects Isidore’s interest in providing guidelines aimed at creating homogeneous approximations to the biblical text and thus avoiding erroneous interpretations, which were sometimes the product of ignorance or the absence of adequate instruction.

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attempted to define mechanisms that could, ultimately, regulate the access to divine truths. In sum, in the Sententiae, Isidore revealed the importance of the mediation of words among other contemporary ways of accessing divine knowledge. The search for truth was thus inscribed simultaneously in specific spaces and subjects and required specific practices and procedures. In other words, at the same time that Isidore delineated the formal aspects needed for a correct interpretation of the Word, he also sought to regulate practices and habits, ordering bodies and shaping behaviours. In this context, both the monastery and the episcopal palace were consecrated as the spaces par excellence, dedicated to the task of unravelling the divine mysteries, by affirming themselves as places of study and spiritual perfection. More specifically, the monastic enclave fulfilled a dual purpose: it protected man from evil and contained the danger represented by the uncontrolled circulation of people who, outside the hierarchical structure of the Church, sought to forge a different, and unmediated, relationship with the divine. In the Sententiae, Isidore pictured the Law as the path that must be followed to reach Christ.18 Once again, he turned to a biblical image to illustrate his message: the high mountains as the place where the just find an inexhaustible source of food. Thus, the soul of the faithful are nurtured through Scripture but, as Isidore remarked, where the uiri perfecti (‘perfect men’) find sublimia intellegentiae (‘elevated understanding’), the simplices (‘simple men’) would only be able to discover modest thoughts.19 A fundamental principle follows directly: the Scripture is one, but there are different ways in which man can have access to it, because the divine language, as Isidore pointed out, agrees with the intellective capacity of individuals. And, according to this belief, while the humble and illiterate adhere to the historical sense, the wise ones discover the mysteries instead.20 This distinction according to intelligence, therefore,21 made possible, on the 18 Isidore, Sententiae I, 18, 1, p. 62: Item uia per quam itur ad Christum lex est, per quam uadunt ad Deum hii qui[bus], ut est, intellegunt eum. (‘Likewise, the road by which one goes to Christ is the law, by which they, who understand Christ as he is, go to God’). Trans. Knoebel, p. 67. 19 Isidore, Sententiae I, 18, 3. 20 Ibid., 4, p. 62: Scriptura sacra infirmis et sensu paruulis, secundum historiam, humilis uidetur in uerbis; cum excellentioribus autem uiris altius incedit, dum eis sua mysteria pandit, ac per hoc utrisque manet communis et paruulis et perfectis. (‘In its narrative, Sacred History seems humble in its words to those who are weak and limited in mental capacity; but for more superior men, when it opens up to them its mysteries, it ascends higher, and through this it remains meaningful for the little ones and the perfect ones’). Trans. Knoebel, p. 68. 21 Gregory the Great had already expressed his concern about similar issues, especially about the ‘problema del rapporto fra oralità e scrittura e fra destinatari dell’una e dell’altra forma

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one hand, a universal path to Scripture allowing every man and woman access to the biblical message. On the other hand, however, it required the mediation and the exclusive expertise of doctors, namely, the educated experts capable of deciphering the dark passages and unravelling the hidden meanings. In fact, darkness could become a cause of heresy, as Isidore himself pointed out in the Sententiae.22 Achieving a correct interpretation of the Scriptures therefore involved much more than the application of a host of rules for exegesis. Although certain precepts were recognized and accepted as essential, especially those inherited from the patristic tradition, other elements came into play in the search for Truth. First, the message to be deciphered was embedded within the ecclesiastical framework. The relationship between the Bible and the Church was an inseparable one, since the Church had defined a canon and a way of reading the biblical books. Furthermore, the one responsible for decoding and teaching the message embedded in the sacred text could not be anyone other than an expert in the field, a man of the Church (preferably a bishop), who, in addition, had to observe the Christian precepts with righteousness. Therefore, the ultimate access to an understanding of the divine mysteries was not within the reach of ordinary men. Only the trained servant, capable of applying with wisdom the normative compendium, and whose life was adapted to the Christian moral principles, was the adequate person to discern the biblical mysteries. A similar concern was also exhibited in the council records of Toledo IV, held in 633 in the urbs regia (‘royal city’) and presided over by Isidore himself. As canon XXV ordained, bishops had to know both the Scriptures and the collection of canons: Ignorance, the mother of all errors, must be avoided most of all in the bishops of God, who received the office of teaching the peoples. The Sacred Scriptures admonish the bishops to read, when Apostle Paul says to Timothy: ‘Devote yourself to reading, to exhortation, to teaching, and di comunicazione: se i contenuti furono sostanzialmente gli stessi e se l’uso sistematico di exempla poteva rendere più facilmente comprensibile il messaggio morale e spirituale.’ (‘[…] problem of the connection between orality and writing, and between the addressees of either way of communication: if the contents would basically be the same, and if the systematic use of exempla could give insight to the moral and spiritual message’). See Boesch Gajano, Gregorio Magno, p. 82. 22 Isidore, Sententiae I, 16, 8, p. 57: […] Vis uero per quam sit obscuritas est diuinarum scripturarum, in qua caligantes heretici aliud quam se res habet intellegunt. (‘[…] The power of faith is shown, for example, through that which may be an obscurity of the divine Scriptures, in which the mistaken heretics understand something other than that which it really contains’). Trans. Knoebel, p. 65.

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persist in these tasks’. And know, therefore, the bishops the Holy Scripture and the canons, so that all their work consists of preaching and doctrine, and edifies all both by the science of faith and by the discipline of works.23

The same document also enacted other dispositions that regulated the reading of biblical books within the Visigothic Church. One stands out in particular: canon XVII exhorted the acceptance of the Book of Revelation and promoted its reading during the liturgical calendar.24 Given that a heated controversy about its acceptance within the canon arose in the East in recent centuries, the fact that the Visigothic clergy received this book favourably made a strong imprint within the Christian world. These observations gained greater force within a wider set of canons aimed at achieving uniformity in both the administration of sacraments and the liturgical customs, and at regulating the life of bishops, deacons, and priests throughout the kingdom. It should be remembered, however, that other councils prior to Toledo IV had already expressed the need to encourage the reading of the Holy Scripture, as attested by the collection of canons of Toledo III, held in 589. In this case, idle conversations were condemned and, instead, the reading of biblical books during episcopal services was vigorously encouraged.25 23 Tol. IV, XXV, Martínez Diez and Rodríguez, eds, p. 215: Ignorantia mater cunctorum errorum maxime in sacerdotibus Dei uitanda est, qui docendi officium in populis susceperunt. Sacerdotes enim legere sancta scriptura admonet, Paulo apostolo dicente ad Timotheum: ‘Intende lectioni, exhortationi, doctrinae; semper permane in his.’ Sciant igitur sacerdotes scripturas sanctas et canones ut omne opus eorum in praedicatione et doctrina consistat atque aedificent cunctos tam fidei scientia quam operum disciplina. 24 Tol. IV, XVII, Martínez Diez and Rodríguez, eds, pp. 205-206: Apocalipsin librum multorum conciliorum auctoritas et synodica sanctorum praesulum Romanorum decreta Iohannis euangelistae esse praescribunt et inter diuinos libros recipiendum constituerunt. Et quia plurimi sunt qui eius auctoritatem non recipiunt atque in ecclesiam Dei praedicare contemnunt, si quis eum deinceps aut non receperit aut a pascha usque ad pentecosten missarum tempore in ecclesia non praedicauerit, excommunicationis sententiam habebit. (‘The authority of many councils and the synodal decrees of the holy Roman bishops state that the Apocalypse is by John the Evangelist and it must be accepted among the divine books. And because many do not recognize its authority and refuse to preach it in the church of God, if anyone, from now on, does not accept or does not preach it at the mass from Passover to Pentecost, he will be excommunicated’). 25 Tol. III, VII, Martínez Diez and Rodríguez, ed., p. 115: Pro reuerentia Dei sacerdotum id uniuersa sancta constituit synodus, ut quia solent crebro mensis otiosae fabulae interponi, in omni sacerdotali conuiuio lectio scripturarum diuinarum misceatur. Per hoc enim et animae aedificantur ad bonum et fabulae non necessariae prohibentur. (‘For reverence of God, the Holy Synod of bishops stipulated that, because it is very common to waste time at the table with idle talks, divine scriptures must be read in every episcopal feast. In this way, the souls would be edified to achieve good and idle conversations will be prevented’).

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Similarly, monastic rules also collected a set of indications on the reading of biblical texts. The Rule of Isidore, for example, urged the monks to read the Scriptures after the office of Vespers and it added: ‘Lessons of the Old and New Testaments should be recited every day at the hour of office. On Saturday and Sunday, however, only the New must be prayed.’26 Likewise, monks were ordained not to read the pagan or heretical authors, since: ‘it is preferable to ignore their pernicious doctrines than to fall into the trap of their error by own experience.’27 Similar concerns regarding the duties of priests also took root in the Sententiae. A brief chapter is dedicated to the ignorance of bishops,28 which, as mentioned, constituted a major concern for Isidore. It is worth noting that, in chapters 33 to 35, Isidore used the Latin word praepositi to refer to the Iberian episcopate, thus stressing the divine operation by which they were called to occupy a distinguished role as leaders of the Christian Church and highlighting their responsibility before God. The praepositi were those placed before or in front of the Christian community; by using this term, Isidore was also drawing the attention to the bishops’ task of leading and teaching the people of God. Since ignorant and inexperienced clergy, as well as both sinners and wicked priests, were not capable of correcting the errors of the faithful and teaching the true doctrine (because they did not know it), they should, according to Isidore, be separated from the priestly office. Once more, Isidore turned to Scripture and provided his audience with an illustrative passage from Matthew (Mt. 15:14): ‘The ignorance of the prelates certainly does not suit the life of the subjects: If a blind man leads a blind man, both will fall into a pit.’29 Moreover, the Bishop warned that ignorant clerics would not be able to defend the people entrusted to them against evil.30 26 Isidore, Regula VI, Campos Ruiz and Roca Meliá, eds, p. 102: Lectiones autem ex uetere nouoque testamento tempore officii cotidianis diebus recitentur. Sabbato autem uel dominico die ex nouo tantum pronuntientur. 27 Isidore, Regula VIII, Campos Ruiz and Roca Meliá, eds, p. 103: Melius enim est eorum perniciosa dogmata ignorare quam per experientiam in aliquo laqueo erroris incurrere. 28 See Isidore, Sententiae III, 35. 29 Ibid., 1b, pp. 275-276: Ignorantia quippe praesulum uitae non congruit subiectorum: Caecus enim si caeco ducatum praebeat, ambo in foueam cadunt. 30 Isidore, Sententiae III, 35, 2, p. 276: Sacerdotes indoctos per Esaiam prophetam Dominus inprobat: Ipsi, inquit, pastores ignorauerunt intellegentiam, et iterum: Speculatores caeci omnes, id est inperiti episcopi, nescierunt, inquit, uniuersi canes muti, non ualentes latrare, hoc est plebes commissas non ualentes resistendo malis per uerbum doctrinae defendere. (‘The Lord reproves unlearned priests (bishops) through Isaiah the Prophet: “the shepherds also have no understanding” [Isa 56:11], and again he says: “Israel’s sentinels are blind”, that is, unlearned bishops “are

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In another chapter, Isidore also affirmed that everyone who does not live according to the norms of the Christian profession or teaches differently is an Antichrist.31 Therefore, the knowledge of the Holy Scripture, and the collection of canons, meant for Isidore the basis of an adequate exercise of the ecclesiastical office.

Reading instructions: How to read the sacred page Various ways of reading Scripture, of approaching and interpreting the multiple biblical meanings, coexisted side by side during the period studied. Along with read-aloud techniques, other methods of addressing written texts prevailed, without this having implied the disappearance of ancient models inherited from Antiquity.32 The strategies of reading both in silentio (‘in silence’) and in a low voice (or ruminatio) developed mainly in the monasteries, with important spaces dedicated to study and contemplation.33 Oral reading, on the other hand, survived and was circumscribed fundamentally to liturgical worship, where the Bible was read out loud, reaching a large audience that otherwise could not have had access to scriptural content. Both reading and prayer constituted, for Isidore, key aspects of the education of the clergy. Descriptions about how and when to read the Scriptures are repeatedly found in his works. However, my focus here will be on a set of guidelines gathered by Isidore in the Sententiae, which dealt with the regulation of both activities. At the beginning of his chapter De lectione (‘On reading’), Isidore outlined: ‘Prayer purifies us, reading instructs us; both are good when they are possible; but, if not, it is better to pray than to read.’34 Undoubtedly, this statement sought to transcend the literate public, endowed with the knowledge and expertise to undertake the reading of the Sacred Scriptures. Instead, he intended to include both preachers and parishioners who, unable to read all without knowledge, they are silent dogs that cannot bark’’ [Isa 56: 10], that is, they are not able to defend the common people untrusted to them from resisting evil through the word of doctrine’). Trans. Knoebel, p. 186. 31 See Isidore, Sententiae I, 25, 1, p. 79. Omnis qui secundum professionis suae normam aut non uiuit aut aliter docet, Antichristus est. (‘Everyone who either does not live according to the norm of his profession of faith or teaches otherwise, is the antichrist’). Trans. Knoebel, p. 77. 32 See Cavallo and Chartier, Storia della lettura, pp. 18-19. 33 See Petrucci, ‘Lire au Moyen Âge’, p. 604. 34 Isidore, Sententiae III, 8, 1, p. 228: Orationibus mundamur, lectionibus instruimur; utrumque bonum, si liceat; si non liceat, melius est orare quam legere.

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the biblical texts assiduously, found the principal means of edification and salvation in prayer.35 Concerning specif ically the reading of the Bible, Isidore mentioned fundamental aspects. He annotated, first, that the act of reading would be extremely helpful in keeping men separated from worldly vanities, because it instructed knowledge and led to God.36 Understanding and communication were thus included in the study of Scripture.37 Hence, understanding was regarded as a necessary condition, and a prior step, in order to transmit what had been learned previously through reading. Therefore, the Bishop of Hispalis recommended an assiduous reading as the only adequate method for grasping the meaning of Scripture and reaching a greater understanding of its content. However, he also observed that not all men could apprehend the divine mysteries in the same way. Rigorous behaviour was regarded as an indispensable condition, defined by a complete renunciation of the cares of the secular world and the cultivation of constant reading and meditation. Such a requirement, while not limiting access to the reading of the Scriptures per se, did circumscribe their ultimate understanding within a very small circle. Lectio (‘reading’) and meditatio (‘meditation’) were complementary exercises that took place mainly in monastic environments devoted to the reading and meditation of celestial truths, in which the servants of God undertook the path of spiritual perfection, the search for divine truths, and the inexhaustible task of fighting evil. In this constant struggle, prayer and reading constituted defensive as well as offensive weapons necessary to face the manifold threat and deception of the devil and his agents, who repeatedly attempted to divert men from the path of virtue.38 35 In other sections of the Sententiae Isidore had manifested a similar attitude. See, for example, Isidore, Sententiae I, 21, 1, p. 73. 36 Isidore, Sententiae III, 8, 4, p. 229: Geminum confert donum lectio sanctarum scripturarum, siue quia intellectum mentis erudit, seu quod a mundi uanitatibus abstractum hominem ad amorem Dei perducit. (‘Reading the Sacred scriptures confers a double gift: it teaches the intellect of the mind and it leads the person drawn away by the vanities of the world back to the love of God’). Trans. Knoebel, p. 160. 37 Isidore, Sententiae III, 8, 5, p. 229: Geminum est lectionis studium: primum quomodo scripturae intellegantur secundum qua utilitate uel dignitate dicantur. Erit enim antea quisque promptus ad intellegendum quae legit, sequenter idoneus ad proferendum quae dicit. 38 Isidore himself began his Regula with a chapter dedicated to the monastery in which he highlighted the valuable role of closure in the face of the tireless threat posed by the devil. See Isidore, Regula I, Campos Ruiz and Roca Meliá, eds, p. 91: Inprimis, fratres karissimi, monasterium uestrum miram conclauis diligentiam habeat ut firmitatem custodiae munimenta claustrorum exhibeant; inimicus enim noster diabolus sicut leo rugiens circuit ore patenti quaerens unumquemque nostrum quem deuoret. (‘Above all, dear brothers, it is critical that your monastery has utmost

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In the Sententiae, Isidore not only defined reading practices, but also different types of readers. Underlying this classification are two important concerns regarding Isidore’s pedagogical thought: correction and discipline. The practice of reading was thus channelled and directed towards the true purpose. In so doing, Isidore sought to prevent it from being used contra fidem (‘against faith’). On the one hand, he advised against the superbi (‘the proud ones’), who, instead of using the knowledge to glorify God, used it for personal benefit. Isidore affirmed that although the divine Word was indeed accessible to them through reading, its secrets would only be discovered by the humble, to those who approach God with righteousness.39 In other words, the act of reading did not in itself imply the automatic discovery of the divine mystery. This could only be achieved by carrying out behaviour according to Christian precepts, a specific ethos focused on humility and discipline. Furthermore, arrogance represented for Isidore an obstacle that threw the reader into darkness instead of being enlightened by the truth of Scripture. On the other hand, another chapter dealt with carnal and heretical readers. According to Isidore, this type of reader approached the law in a purely carnaliter (‘according to the flesh’, or ‘literally’) way; namely, they held to the letter and not to the spirit. Both Jews40 and heretics were included among them. From this perspective, the absence of a spiritual interpretation of the Scriptures impeded the knowledge of its most recondite enigmas and favoured instead error and heresy. Therefore, these doctores errorum (‘doctors of errors’) posed a threat to the unity of the ecclesia for several reasons. First, as a result of the misunderstanding of the Scripture, they exposed themselves to the error of false interpretation, 41 deluding also diligence regarding the enclosure so that the protective structure will exhibit the strength of its defense; our enemy, the devil, prowls around like a roaring lion with an open mouth looking for someone to devour’). 39 See Isidore, Sententiae III, 11, 3, p. 234: Diuinae legis penetrabilia humilibus et bene ad Deum intrantibus patent; prauis autem atque superbis clauduntur. Nam quamuis diuina eloquia in lectione adrogantibus sint aperta, in mysterio autem clausa atque oculta sunt. (‘Things that can be understood regarding the divine law disclose themselves to the humble and those who are approaching God in a fitting manner, they are kept closed, however, to the perverse and proud. Although the divine statements are available to the arrogant ones who are seeking them through reading, they are closed and hidden in mystery’). Trans. Knoebel, p. 163. 40 The carnaliter (carnal) reading associated with Jews is developed in extenso mainly in De fide catholica contra Iudaeos. See González Salinero, Las conversiones forzosas and Drews, The Unknown Neighbour. 41 Isidore, Sententiae III, 12, 4, p. 235: Scripturas heretici sano sensu non sapiunt, sed eas ad errorem prauae intellegentiae ducunt; neque semetipsos earum sensibus subdunt, sed eas peruerse ad errorem proprium pertrahunt. (‘Heretics do not understand the Scriptures in a wholesome

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their listeners, whom they convinced by means of fraudulent arguments. Moreover, they were accused of falsifying the doctrine by usurping the name of the Catholic doctors or by introducing suae blasphemiae (‘their blasphemies’) into the books. In addition, two other operations were attributed to heretical readers: mixing the bad and the good; the false and the true; and infecting the healthy things with the virus of their error.42 In another section of the Sententiae, Isidore once again emphasized the disaggregating behaviour of the heretics when they were assimilated into the ‘broken cisterns’ mentioned in the Book of Jeremiah (Jer. 2:13) and into the formation of a multitude of regional communities as opposed to the unity emanating from the Catholic Church. 43 In the face of this constant threat, Isidore exhorted those who undertook the task of reading to proceed cautiously and with prudent judgement, in order to be able to distinguish between right and wrong and to prevent expressions contrary to the truth. However, if reading was considered utilis ad instruendum (‘useful for instruction’), according to Isidore, it would better fulfil its objective if it was complemented with the spiritual colloquium or conlatio, since, as the sense, but they lead them into the error of a wicked understanding: nor do they subject themselves to their meanings, but they force them perversely into their own proper error’). Trans. Knoebel, p. 163. 42 Isidore, Sententiae III, 12, 6, p. 235: Tanta est hereticorum calliditas ut falsa ueris malaque bonis permisceant, salutaribusque rebus plerumque erroris sui uirus interserant, quo facilius possint prauitatem peruersi dogmatis sub specie persuadere ueritatis. (‘So great is the cunning of the heretics that they mix together falsehoods with the truth and bad things with the good; they frequently sow the poison of their error among salutary things, by which they are able more easily to present in a persuasive manner the depravity of false teaching under the appearance of truth’). Trans. Knoebel, p. 164. 43 See Isidore, Sententiae I, 16. However, unlike the Visigothic councils held during the seventh century, no explicit references to concrete heresies are found throughout this Isidorian work. The Council II of Seville is of particular interest here, since it shows the presence in Hispania ex haerese Acefalorum (‘of acephalous heresy ’). In this assembly, the canons dealt mostly with issues of ecclesiastical discipline, such as the fate of deserters within the clergy (III), irregular ordinations (IV, V, and VI) and competences of presbyters regarding the administration of sacraments (VII). In the conciliar meeting of 633 similar concerns were also observed, which crystallized in numerous decrees destined to standardize the liturgical rites and sacraments that seemed to exhibit discrepancies at the time of their execution. One of the most acute points to be discussed in the council was the practice of baptism, in particular the question of triple or simple immersion. While both uses were considered correct, the assembly opted for the simple immersion in order to avoid the scandal of schism and the use of heretical dogma (Tol. IV, VI). And those who fell into heresy (those who are known to have been baptized into heresy or re-baptized) were likewise deprived of episcopal ordination (Tol. IV, XIX). Both the conciliar documents and the Sententiae visualized the heterogeneity of practices and beliefs that, in the eyes of the bishops, threatened the political and religious unity of the kingdom.

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bishop indicated, it was better to confer (conferre) than to read (legere).44 In the colloquium, different mechanisms intervened, namely, the formulation of questions and the confrontation and comparison of ideas. It also involved the use of rhetorical figures, who were necessary to grasp opaque concepts and to resolve the difficulties that, in some cases, arose in the biblical letter. 45 The colloquium, in addition, was contrary to the dispute: while the former was aimed at instruction, the latter, a characteristic of heresies and schisms, had the purpose of destroying the truth, through blasphemy and the distortion of faith. Isidore had more to add on reading practices. First, he addressed the role of memory within the reading process, defined as a requirement that could be perfected and increased by means of reflection and reading. 46 Second, he considered that a brief reading was more beneficial since it allowed the reader to think on what has been read and to avoid erasing from memory what has been previously acquired. 47 Finally, Isidore encouraged silent reading, because, as he annotated, the understanding was better instructed when the voice of the reader rested and the tongue moved in silence. 48 As 44 Isidore, Sententiae III, 14, 1, p. 239: Cum sit utilis ad instruendum lectio, adhibita autem conlatione maiorem intellegentiam praebet; melius est enim conferre quam legere. (‘Although reading is beneficial for instruction, making use for discussion offers greater understanding; it is better to confer than [only] to read’). Trans. Knoebel, p. 166. 45 Isidore, Sententiae III, 14, 3, p. 239: Multum prosunt in conlatione figurae. Res enim quae minus per se aduertuntur, per conparationem rerum facile capiuntur. Nam saepe sub specie alia scripturae diuinae spiritales causas insinuant; et nisi per aliqua euidenti ostensione, uix apparent occulta legis mysteria. (‘Many examples are brought forth in conferring with others. Things that are less well perceived by themselves are easily grasped when they are compared to other things. Often spiritual matters of Sacred Scripture make themselves known under another representation; and except through some manifest demonstration, hidden mysteries of the law would scarcely appear’). Trans. Knoebel, p. 166. 46 Isidore, Sententiae III, 14, 7, p. 240: Lectio memoriae auxilium eget; quod si fuerit naturaliter tardior, frequenti tamen meditatione acuitur ac legendi adsiduitate collegitur. (‘Reading needs the assistance of memory; and if the memory has become slower by nature, it is sharpened by frequent meditation and is strengthen by the constant practice of reading’). Trans. Knoebel, p. 166. 47 Isidore, Sententiae III, 14, 8, p. 240: Saepe prolixa lectio longitudinis causa memoriam legentis oblitterat. Quod si breuis sit, submotoque libro sententia retractetur in animo, tunc sine labore legitur, et ea quae lecta sunt recolendo memoria minime exciduntur. (‘Often reading that is extended wipes out the memory of the reader because of its length. But if the reading is short, then it is read without difficulty and, when the book is removed, the meaning will be retained in the mind, and those things that have been read, recalled by the memory, are less likely to be forgotten’). Trans. Knoebel, p. 166. 48 Isidore, Sententiae III, 14, 9, p. 240: Acceptabilior est sensibus lectio tacita quam aperta; amplius enim intellectus instruitur quando uox legentis quiescit et sub silentio lingua mouetur. Nam clare legendo et corpus lassatur et uocis acumen obtunditur. (‘It is more acceptable to the

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shown, different operations materialized in the practice of reading: from memory and reflection to the movement of lips and tongue, all senses were involved in this process. And, since reading was meant to record the words in the faithful hearts, a necessary and also direct relationship was revealed between Bible and body. Silent reading was aimed at a specific audience; at the same time, it implied specific spaces, requirements, and practices. First, it was oriented towards a small group of men who had decided to dedicate themselves thoroughly to the contemplative life. It was also carried out within monasteries, churches, or places destined to Christian devotion or teaching and limited to the Bible and other writings strictly linked to religious and spiritual growth. This practice, therefore, defined a specific way of inhabiting certain spaces and favoured an individual behaviour towards the text. Second, this type of reading was focused on specific purposes, that of knowledge and approximation to God. With these guidelines, the Bishop encouraged reading practices that incorporated specific behaviours of the body, a discipline49 that required the study and repetition of words. From the beginnings of monasticism, silence50 had been a central component of ascetic behaviour. In leaning towards a silent reading, Isidore invoked previous models that had made silence a valuable aspect of the contemplative life.51 In this sense, Isidore warned his audience about the evils senses that reading be done silently rather than loud; for the intellect is instructed more fully when the voice of the reader is quiet and the tongue is moved in silence. By reading out loud the body is wearied and the sharpness of the voice is weakened’). Trans. Knoebel, pp. 166-167. 49 The obligations and occupations of monks are also addressed in other Isidorian writings such as De ecclesiasticis officiis and the Regula monachorum, e.g. Isidore, Regula V, Campos Ruiz and Roca Meliá, ed., p. 99. Moreover, he advised the monks to turn to the abbot in case they did not understand what was read (See Isidore, Regula VIII). 50 Regulations related to silence are observed, e.g. in the Benedictine Rule (Chapter VI). However, let us remember that the aforementioned rule never reached a predominant position throughout the Visigothic period. Strictly speaking, no rule managed to play a hegemonic role in that period. On the formation of a corpus regularum in Visigothic times, see Velázquez Soriano, ‘Reflexiones en torno de la formación de un Corpvs Regvlarum de época visigoda’, p. 539: ‘Es a partir de Isidoro, con la redacción de su Regula (RI) cuando parece establecerse el núcleo definidor del Corpus regularum visigótico, al que hay que añadir la Regla de Fructuoso (RF) y la Regula Communis (RCO), antiguamente atribuida a éste también y que figura en algunos códices como segunda regula de este autor.’ (‘It is from Isidore on, with the drafting of his Regula (RI), when the defining core of the Visigothic Corpus regularum seems to have been settled. The Regla de Fructuoso (RF) and the Regula Communis (RCO) – previously attributed to Isidore as well, and listed in some codices as a second rule of this same author – should be added to this Corpus’). 51 Bruce, Silence and Sign Language, p. 13: ‘Monastic silence did not entail the complete suppression of human speech, however, as the term implies in its modern sense. Rather, it involved the regulation of the desire to utter words that were harmful to the disciplined development

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caused by excessive conversation, idle and vain words, and also by excesses of language and eloquence.52 Although these warnings were addressed not only to monks, it was likely that they had integrated an important part of the intended recipients. It should be noted, finally, that reading aloud, an experience inherited from ancient models, did not disappear at the time, but was inscribed in specific spaces, mostly connected to liturgical activity. For example, in De ecclesiasticis officiis, Isidore included among the duties and responsibilities of the lector (‘reader’) the task of reading aloud a written text, mainly the Scriptures, ‘so that a largely illiterate congregation take knowledge of the message contained in the Scriptures.’53 This reading practice had a very different purpose than other techniques and it also required special preparation. As Banniard has explained, the lector exercised a pivotal role combining two different dynamics: the limited and restricted access to Scriptures and the transmission of that content to a heterogeneous and wide audience.54 The persistence of the intoned word was also visible in the task of the psalmist,55 which entailed a diversity of hymns, prayers, and supplications that gained true strength in the field of liturgy, rite, and celebration of faith. Moreover, hymns were held in esteem among the Visigothic clergy, as shown in the council records of Toledo IV. In this case, the members of the episcopal body spoke in favour of the use of hymns in the liturgy, often rejected by those who claimed not to find scriptural or canonical basis in such practices. To counter these objections, the council provided biblical examples that clearly demonstrated the value of psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs.56 of the individual monk and the prayerful purpose of the entire coenobium. In accordance with this, early medieval monks were instructed to renounce any spoken words that mired their thoughts in the world and distracted their attention from God.’ 52 See Isidore, Sententiae II, 29. 53 My translation from the original French. See Banniard, ‘Le lecteur’, p. 113: ‘pour qu’une assemblée de fidèles en grande partie analphabète prît connaissance du message contenu dans les Écritures.’ 54 See Banniard, ‘Le lecteur’, p.117. 55 See Isidore, De ecclesiasticis officiis II, XII, Lawson, ed., p. 71; and Banniard, ‘Le lecteur’, p. 130: ‘Isidore exige du psalmiste non seulement des qualités positives, mais aussi des vertus négatives : il le met en garde contre les attitudes théâtrales, contre un art trop plastique et l’invite à conserver “une simplicité chrétienne, jusque dans la modulation même”.’ (‘Isidore demands from the salmist not only positive attributes but also negative virtues: he warns him against theatrical attitudes, against a too plastic art, and invites him to retain “Christian simplicity, even in the modulation”’). 56 Tol. IV, XIII, Martínez Diez and Rodríguez, ed., pp. 201-203.

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Words that cannot be read The role played by Isidore of Seville regarding pagan literature and its transmission in the Western Christian world became widely known, largely thanks to the influential works of Jacques Fontaine, who investigated the rôle de médiateur57 exercised by Isidore throughout his life, especially during his pontificate in Hispalis, and his instruments and methods of work and culture. In the Sententiae, Isidore dedicated a chapter, entitled De libris gentilium (‘On the books of the Gentiles’), to summarizing his perspective on pagan authors. This section began with a categorical restriction: ‘Therefore, the Christian is forbidden to read the fictions of the poets, because through the delight of their useless fables they provoke the incentive of lust.’58 Moreover, Isidore gave pronounced warnings to those readers who preferred pagan literature, due to its ‘emphatic and neat style,’ to the simple language of the Holy Scriptures. The Bishop reinforced this point, acknowledging that this external and particular form of the Scripture in fact concealed the divine mysteries, unlike the sentences of the Gentiles, which did not exhibit any wisdom once they had been stripped of the brilliance of their eloquence. In addition, that feature of biblical writings was closely aligned with the purpose of the sermo humilis (‘humble speech’), aimed at approaching faith by ‘the manifestation of the spirit,’ rather than by the word of wisdom.59 Therefore, during the reading process – Isidore remarked – truths should be appreciated and not merely words. Once again, Isidore opposed the truthful simplicity that emanated from the Scripture, believing it to be the artificial falsehood product of linguae ornamenta (‘ornaments of speech’) that led to error and deception.60 Thus, according to the Bishop, to read 57 Fontaine, Isidore de Séville, p. 13: ‘Ce rôle médiateur apparaît capital, si l’on considère que dans la culture médiévale les cadres du trivium et du quadruuium se sont transmis intacts des écoles monastiques du Haut Moyen Âge aux Facultés des arts. En ce domaine, l’influence d’Isidore a été particulièrement décisive sur les écoles de la renaissance carolingienne.’ (‘ This intermediary role stands out as essential, if considered that in medieval culture the patterns of trivium and quadrivium were transmitted unchanged from the monastic schools of the Early Middle Ages to the Faculties of Arts. In this domain, Isidore’s influence has been particularly decisive on the schools of the Carolingian renaissance’). 58 Isidore, Sententiae III, 13, 1, p. 236: Ideo prohibetur christianus figmenta legere poetarum quia per oblectamenta inanium fabularum mentem excitant ad incentiua libidinum. 59 Isidore, Sententiae III, 13, 5, pp. 236-237: Ideo libri sancti simplici sermone conscripti sunt, ut non in sapientia uerbi, sed in ostensione spiritus, homines ad fidem perducerentur. 60 Isidore, Sententiae III, 13, 8, p. 237: In lectione non uerba sed ueritas est amanda. Saepe autem repperitur simplicitas ueridica, et conposita falsitas quae hominem suis erroribus inlicit et per linguae ornamenta laqueos dulces adspargit.

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the libri gentilium provoked the exaltation of man’s spirit, arrogance, and conceit, aspects of behaviour contrary to that of a true servant of God, who encountered his maximum realization in the renunciation of the self. Isidore clarified what he meant by gentilium dicta (‘words of the Gentiles’) using different terms, but without specifying authors or works. Among the terminology used, several references appeared, such as ‘fictions of the poets,’ ‘doctrines’, or ‘mundane sciences’ and ‘grammatical art.’61 However, Isidore adopted an ambiguous position concerning grammar. Despite his attack against grammarians, he regarded them in a better light than heretics, since the latter – warned Isidore – persuaded men with deadly juice, whereas the teachings of grammarians may even be useful for life, if reserved for better uses.62 This assessment, however, imposed some conditions: this field of knowledge could only be mediated by an expert, who, knowing the doctrine in depth, enabled a use of grammar oriented towards divine truths. This is not a novel thought if we consider other Isidorian works. Already in the Etymologiae, Isidore had defined grammar as follows: ‘Grammar is the knowledge of speaking correctly, and is the origin and foundation of liberal letters.’63 From this perspective, the art of grammar played a fundamental role in the pedagogical thought of the Bishop,64 but the purpose of such knowledge was always expected to be religious.

Conclusions Following the steps of Augustine in De doctrina christiana, Isidore displayed a method of reading and understanding the Holy Scripture, defining a specific 61 See Isidore, Sententiae III, 13, I; 13, 2; 13, 9; 13, 10. 62 Isidore, Sententiae III, 13, 11, p. 238: Meliores esse grammaticos quam hereticos; heretici enim haustum letiferi sucus hominibus persuadendo propinant; grammaticorum autem doctrina potest etiam proficere ad uitam, dum fuerit in meliores usus adsumpta. (‘Grammarians are better than heretics: heretics provide drafts of deadly drink to people; the teaching of grammarians, however, can also profit for life when it is pursued for better purposes’). Trans. Knoebel, p. 165. 63 Isidore, Etymologiae I, v, i, Barney et al., trans., The Etymologies of Isidore of Seville, p. 42. 64 Concerning the Christianization of profane knowledge prior to Isidore, see Fontaine, Isidoro de Sevilla. Génesis y originalidad, p. 122: ‘Ya desde comienzos, Agustín había recomendado a los cristianos adquirir la mayor parte de sus conocimientos profanos, y en especial las siete “artes”, como una preparación indispensable para la comprensión de la Sagrada Escritura; de manera particular en su tratado De doctrina christiana, carta magna de la “cultura cristiana” o más bien “de la enseñanza del cristianismo”.’ (‘From the beginning, Augustine had recommended Christians to acquire a good deal of profane knowledge, and particularly the seven “arts” as a basic training to the understanding of the Sacred Scriptures; specifically, in his treatise De doctrina christiana, a major source of the “Christian culture”, or rather, of the “teaching of Christianism”.’).

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path comprised of stages and instructions aimed at achieving not only wisdom but true interpretation. Ultimately, the existence of a method – the implementation of specific techniques and procedures – was regarded by Isidore as a true index of authority that, at the same time, delimited a body of experts in the sacred letter. The knowledge of the biblical truths constituted a fundamental pillar within Isidore’s pastoral and pedagogical programme. Moreover, the Bible and Church shared an inseparable link insofar as the only valid interpretation of the message of God was that imparted by the Church united in the faith of Christ. However, despite having indicated, as seen in the Sententiae, a set of exegetical guidelines aimed at retracing the divine mysteries, Isidore acknowledged that such mysteries could not be properly unveiled without divine grace. As Isidore implied, those truths could be apprehended only by those who led a life according to Christian doctrine, guided by the pillars of faith and humility. In outlining reading instructions, the Bishop of Hispalis also defined a specific attitude towards written materials, in mediating the access and interpretation of the biblical text. Hence, at the same time that he put into practice experiences centred on the written word, he also hierarchized the access to divine truths and their understanding. However, as already mentioned, this understanding was not tied only to the ability or training of prudent readers, but depended on humble behaviour, in accordance with the precepts of Christ. From this perspective, if reading emerged as a medium for perfecting the spirit and deciphering the biblical mysteries, its effectiveness was limited to those who lived according to the Christian example. This warning was addressed to the monks in the monasteries, but also to the priests and bishops, who were called upon to lead and instruct parishioners, so that no one could claim access to divine knowledge outside of what was established by the Church and the orthodox tradition. Shortly after the conversion to Nicene Christianity, within the context of religious and territorial unification, the devices for communicating the Christian message throughout the Visigothic kingdom had to be expanded and diversified. But that message must remain unified. To this end, Isidore played a fundamental role in the deployment of resources and instruments aimed at intervening in the reinforcement of religious identity and, ultimately, in the avoidance of disruption and divine judgement. Hence, the safeguard of the kingdom was intrinsically connected to the education of the religious leaders, who were given the task of correcting misguided actions, preserving religious unity, and guiding the flock, and the entire kingdom, to salvation.

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Within a hierarchical episcopal structure, Hispalis became one of the most important centres of power within the kingdom, in which the production and dissemination of major doctrinal works took place. In this context, the centrality of the bishop was based on manifold factors: administration of lands; control of regional ecclesiastical networks; and connection with local aristocracies and magnates, among others. Within this competitive background, the control of the means by which the biblical message was interpreted and transmitted favoured the consolidation of the episcopal authority, and made clear that the divine message – and, ultimately, the access to salvation – was a matter reserved purely for the specialized clergy. In the regulation and interpretation of the Word, the Church found true weapons of recognition and legitimacy: nobody but the ecclesiastical hierarchy had the necessary competence to deal with the delicate matters of faith.

Abbreviations BAC CCSL CSIC MGH SRM

Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos Corpus Christianorum – Series Latina Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas Monumenta Germaniae Historica – Scriptores Rerum Merovingicarum

Works cited Banniard, Michel, ‘Le lecteur en Espagne wisigothique d’après Isidore de Séville: De ses fonctions à l’état de la langue’, Revue d’Études Augustiniennes et Patristiques, 21 1-2 (1975), pp. 112-144. Boesch Gajano, Sofia, Gregorio Magno. Alle origini del Medioevo (Rome: Viella, 2004). Bruce, Scott, Silence and Sign Language in Medieval Monasticism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007). Campos Ruiz, Julio and Ismael Roca Meliá, eds, Santos Padres Españoles II. San Leandro, San Isidoro, San Fructuoso. Reglas monásticas de la España visigoda. Los tres libros de las «Sentencias» = BAC 321 (Madrid: Católica, 1971). Cavallo, Guglielmo and Roger Chartier, eds, Storia della lettura nel mondo occidentale, (Rome-Bari: Editori Laterza, 1995). De Aldama, José, ‘Indicaciones sobre la cronología de las obras de S. Isidoro’, in Miscellanea Isidoriana (Rome: Universidad Gregoriana, 1936), pp. 57-89. De Lubac, Henri, Exégèse médiévale. Les quatre sens de l’Écriture (Paris: Aubier, 1959).

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Drews, Wolfram, The Unknown Neighbour: The Jew in the Thought of Isidore of Seville (Leiden: Brill, 2006). Elfassi, Jacques, ‘Connaître la bibliothèque pour connaître les sources: Isidore de Séville’, Antiquité Tardive, 23 (2015), pp. 59-66. Fontaine, Jacques, Isidore de Séville et la culture classique dans l’Espagne wisigothique (Paris: Études Augustiniennes, 1959). Fontaine, Jacques, ‘Isidore de Séville, pédagogue et théoricien de l’exégèse’, in Stimuli: Exegese und ihre Hermeneutik in Antike und Christentum. Festschrift für Ernst Dassmann, ed. by G. Schöllgen and C. Scholten (Münster: Aschendorff, 1996), pp. 423-434. Fontaine, Jacques, Isidoro de Sevilla. Génesis y originalidad de la cultura hispánica en tiempos de los visigodos (Madrid: Encuentro, 2002). González Salinero, Raúl, Las conversiones forzosas de los judíos en el reino visigodo (Rome: CSIC, Escuela Española de Historia y Arqueología, 2000). González Salinero, Raúl, ‘La polémica antijudía en la Hispania tardoantigua y visigoda: resultados y perspectivas de una línea de investigación consolidada’, Mainake, 31 (2009), pp. 123-129. Isidore of Seville, De ecclesiasticis Officiis, ed. by Christopher Lawson, Sancti Isidori episcopi Hispalensis. De ecclesiasticis officiis = CCSL 113 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1989). Isidore of Seville, Sentences, ed. by Pierre Cazier, Isidorus Hispalensis Sententiae = CCSL 111 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1998). Isidore of Seville, Differentiae, II, ed. by María Adelaida Andrés Sanz, Isidori Hispalensis episcopi Liber Differentiarvm II = CCSL 111-A (Turnhout: Brepols, 2006). Isidore of Seville, Etymologies, ed. by Stephen Barney, W.J. Lewis, J.A. Beach and Oliver Berghof, The Etymologies of Isidore of Seville (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006). Isidore of Seville, Sententiae, trans. by Thomas L. Knoebel (New York: Newman Press, 2018). Martin, Céline, La géographie du pouvoir dans l’Espagne visigothique (Lille: Septentrion, 2003). Martín, José Carlos, ‘Une nouvelle édition critique de la Vita Desiderii de Sisebut, accompagnée de quelques réflexions concernant la date des Sententiae et du De viris illustribus d’Isidore de Séville’, Hagiographica, 7 (2000), pp. 127-80. Martín, José Carlos, ‘La biblioteca cristiana de los Padres Hispanovisigodos (siglos VI-VII)’, Veleia, 30 (2013), pp. 259-288. Martínez Diez, Gonzalo and Félix Rodríguez, eds, La colección canónica hispana. V. Concilios hispanos, segunda parte (Madrid: CSIC, 1992). Petrucci, Armando, ‘Lire au Moyen Âge’, Mélanges de l’École française de Rome. Moyen âge et temps modernes, 96, 2 (1984), pp. 603-616.

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Rapp, Claudia, Holy Bishops in Late Antiquity (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2005). Velázquez Soriano, Isabel, ‘Reflexiones en torno de la formación de un Corpvs Regvlarum de época visigoda’, Antigüedad y Cristianismo, 23 (2006), pp. 531-568. Vives, José, ed., Concilios visigóticos e hispano-romanos (Barcelona-Madrid: CSIC, 1963). Wood, Jamie, ‘Brevitas in the Writings of Isidore of Seville’, in Early Medieval Spain. A Symposium, ed. by Alan Deyermond and Martin Ryan (London: Papers of the Medieval Hispanic Research Seminar, 2010), pp. 37-54. Wood, Jamie, The Politics of Identity in Visigothic Spain (Leiden: Brill, 2012). Young, Frances, Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997).

About the author Dolores Castro has recently received her PhD in History under the supervision of Professors Eleonora Dell’ Elicine and Céline Martin from Universidad de Buenos Aires (Argentina). She holds a doctoral scholarship from the National Scientific and Technical Research Council (CONICET) since 2013. Her research explores the fields of Biblical exegesis, religion, and political power in the Visigothic Kingdom with particular focus on the works of Isidore of Seville. She has participated in several collective projects centred on Law and Theology in the Middle Ages and collaborated in numerous workshops and conferences.

4. Unearthing Peasant Societies: Historiography and Recent Contributions in the Archaeology of the Rural World during Visigothic Times Carlos Tejerizo Abstract Until very recently, the analysis of Visigothic peasant societies has remained a pending task. This was mainly due to the lack of historical sources for tackling the issue, which generated an extremely dark perspective on peasantry, based on the idea of isolated and miserable societies. In recent decades, however, the excavation of hundreds of peasant archaeological contexts all over the Iberian Peninsula has enabled the reformulation of the role of these communities in the conf iguration of post-Roman economics and politics. In this chapter, I critically consider the most significant contributions of archaeology to the analysis of post-Roman peasantry in the light of the latest studies. Furthermore, the chapter proposes an academic agenda for advancing this topic in coming years. Keywords: Early Medieval Archaeology, Peasantry, Rural Villages

Introduction1 In 1986, L.G. Moreno wrote: 1 This research was supported by the project ‘Peasant Agency and Social Complexity in North-Western Iberia in the Medieval Period’ (Spanish Ministry of Economy, Industry and Competitiveness AEI/FEDER UE HAR2016-76094-C4-2R), the Research Group in Heritage and Cultural Landscapes (Government of the Basque Country, IT1193-19), and the Group of Rural Studies (Unidad Asociada UPV/EHU-CSIC), and a postdoctoral grant financed by the Xunta de Galicia. I would like to thank Eleonora Dell’ Elicine for the invitation to contribute to this

Dell’ Elicine, E. and C. Martin (eds), Framing Power in Visigothic Society. Discourses, Devices, and Artefacts. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2020 doi 10.5117/9789463725903_ch04

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If we translate these f igures to the f ifth-seventh centuries Iberian Peninsula,2 there immediately comes out a panorama of subsistence agriculture, permanently threatened by the spectre of hunger following any natural mishap. All of which will be reflected in the low standard of living and the poor nutritional condition of the peasant population, and also in the low rate of seigniorial rents paid by the dependent peasantry.3

Even though this narrative was ‘of its time’ – inasmuch as it was the product of the scant sources available at the time – it clearly reflects an intrinsic pessimism when analysing the condition of the early medieval Iberian peasantry. Within this frame, peasants are presented as passive agents, constrained by low levels of technological development and natural forces, which led them to a Malthusian struggle against pests, famines, and plagues. This apocalyptic vision of peasantry is, in fact, one of the strongest myths to have fed the commonly held (both academically and socially) view of the ‘Dark Ages’. In fact, this was not the only perspective regarding early medieval peasantries inferred from the documentary sources and, certainly, there has been great development in the analyses in the last thirty years. Traditional topics related to post-Roman and early medieval peasantries – addressing questions such as rural legal categories, rural political movements (mainly the bagauda), or rural settlements (vici, pagi, villae)4 – have now been complemented with deep insights into the social, economic, and political conditions of these rural communities.5 Not only have there have been revisions of well-known texts of the period – a recent example being the ongoing project on the Liber Iudiciorum6 – but there has also been a progressive incorporation of new documentary sources into the discussion

volume and all the help she and her family provided for me during my stay in the Universidad Nacional de Catamarca. 2 He was referring, in the context of the text, to Duby’s calculation of yield within the Carolingian monastic centres. 3 García Moreno, ‘El campesino hispanovisigodo’, p. 173. Personal translation: ‘Si estas cifras las trasladamos a la Península ibérica en los siglos V-VII de inmediato se nos presenta el panorama de una agricultura de subsistencia, perpetuamente amenazada por el espectro del hambre ante el menor contratiempo natural. Todo lo cual se reflejará en el bajísimo nivel de vida y estado de mal-alimentación de la población campesina, y en el bajo índice porcentual de las rentas señoriales pagadas por el campesinado dependiente’. 4 A general synthesis on these topics in Arce, Bárbaros y romanos; Arce, El último siglo. 5 Martín Viso, Asentamientos y paisajes. 6 Kelly, ‘Recceswinth’s Liber’.

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– as is the case, for example, with the famous ‘Visigothic slates’.7 New studies addressing rural communities from the documentary sources have clearly acknowledged the complexities of these societies,8 nuancing those pessimistic standpoints that, despite these efforts, remain quite extended and even hegemonic. It is within the field of archaeology, however, where greater advances have been achieved in the study of the Iberian early medieval peasantry. The development of medieval archaeological methods and theoretical frames and the impressive amount of new data obtained have given room to what has been called a ‘silent revolution’.9 Moreover, the increase in archaeological studies dealing with rural communities during the Visigothic period has led scholars such as J. Escalona to describe it as an ‘archaeological turn’. In 2009, he wrote: ‘The most important development that can be anticipated in the immediate future, as far as early medieval Castilian peasant studies are concerned, is not as much related to the objectivism-subjectivism controversy or to a defence of the value of socio-economic research, as it is to the very recent take-off of the archaeology of early medieval rural communities.’10 This assertion, written almost ten years ago, proved to be completely right and now there is a consensus on the fundamental contribution of archaeology to the study of early medieval rural communities.11 Once acknowledged, this ‘archaeological turn’, the historiographical processes, and the inner history of the development of peasant studies within archaeology in the Iberian Peninsula remains obscure. Even though some major works tackling the historiography of Iberian medieval archaeology – some of the most recent in the context of the thirtieth anniversary of the constitution of the discipline12 – have been produced, there remains a lack of a historiographical reflection on the emergence of peasant studies within the field of medieval archaeology in the Iberian Peninsula.13 The historiographical analysis that unfolds in the first part of this paper will argue not only that rural studies – better than ‘peasant studies’ – were a substantial part of the discipline since its very beginning, but also that they show a development from an archaeology of the artefacts and monuments 7 Martín Viso, ‘Tributación y escenarios’; Velázquez, Las pizarras visigodas. 8 Portass, The Village World. 9 Quirós Castillo and Bengoetxea Rementeria, Arqueología III. 10 Escalona Monge, ‘The Early Castilian Peasantry’, p. 120. 11 Martín Viso, Asentamientos y paisajes. 12 Quirós Castillo, ed., Treinta años de Arqueología. 13 Some particular exceptions in Ariño Gil, ‘El hábitat rural’; Kirchner, ‘Sobre la Arqueología’; Quirós Castillo, ‘Las aldeas de los historiadores’; Vigil-Escalera Guirado, ‘Los últimos 30 años’.

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in the rural world – which draws an image of passive peasantries – to an archaeology of an active peasantry and its discourses through materiality. Furthermore, the analysis will take a contextual and genealogical approach, which will relate the external social and political contexts to the internal development of the discipline itself. This historiographical analysis is, in my opinion, crucial not only to understanding how the objective and subjective image of the historical subject of early medieval peasantry was constructed and articulated, but also the constraints and possibilities of current studies on the topic. Consequently, it may shed some light on the most important contributions to the study of early medieval peasantry, which will be the object of exposition in the second part of the paper. In my opinion, there are four: the archaeological evidence of the emergence of early medieval peasant societies; the contribution of the study of peasant landscapes and social relations; the study of social identities; and the detailing on the complex issue of social inequalities within rural communities. In the end, both analyses are willing to contribute to proposing an agenda for the study not only of these communities, but also of their contribution in terms of discourse formation in the complex articulation of power in the Visigoth period. Studying peasantry is not only paying attention to those who were the majority of the population in those times, but also focusing on the material bases that articulated and reproduced power and domination over the period.14

A critical historiography of early medieval peasantry Historiography, contrary to the norm, should not be a long descriptive list of studies dealing with an object/subject of analyses, but rather a critical analysis of how they were represented and constructed by different individuals and groups, in which the scientific academia is only one of them.15 For this purpose, it is necessary to understand the scientific construction of these objects or subjects as a dialectical – thus a historically situated – process of the inner dynamics of a discipline within the whole scientific field 16 and its articulation within a wider social and political context, which limits and enables the horizons of possibility of the field.17 Consequently, the emergence 14 Daflon, ‘Tumultos e clamores’. 15 Collingwood, Idea de la historia; Marin Suárez, ‘Historiografía de la Edad del Hierro’. 16 Bourdieu, El campo científico, pp. 82-86. 17 Merton, La sociología del conocimiento.

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of an archaeology of peasantry as a subject of study should respond to a particular set of characteristics of the field within a particular context. In this section, I will argue that the construction of early medieval peasantry from the field of medieval archaeology relates to the wider socio-political context of Spain from the second half of the nineteenth century onwards and, from the 1980s, to the incorporation of the European Union as a new political arena, which allowed for international academic and social connections. Due to the space limitations, this analysis will necessarily be brief and partial. Its aim is not to construct a whole historiography of the topic, but to give a general overview of the process, critically highlighting its main milestones in order to better contextualize that ‘archaeological turn’ of the last decade.18 One further remark should be made here. As stressed by recent historiographical proposals on Iberian medieval archaeology, one of its particularities is the presence of different traditions within the discipline, with the contraposition between the historiography of the ‘Christian’ north of medieval Spain and the ‘Islamic’ south being one of the most remarkable.19 With the number of archaeological analyses of the Visigothic period being higher for the centre and northern half of the Iberian Peninsula, I will primarily refer to these areas. The ‘Prehistory’ of the archaeology of early medieval peasantry. Nationalism, ethnicism and positivism As a sub-field of medieval archaeology, the archaeology of early medieval peasantry is closely related to the emergence of European national bourgeoisies and the processes of construction of nation states. The creation of new national political structures required a parallel process of construction of ‘new’ national identities and traditions,20 in which selected passages of the past were the object of interest and research by new scientific disciplines such as history, art history, or archaeology.21 Within this general European process, Spain offered some particularities, two of which are worth highlighting: on the one hand, is the weakness of the central government along with the development of strong regionalisms in key industrial areas such 18 A more extensive analysis can be found in Tejerizo García, Arqueología de las sociedades campesinas. 19 García-Contreras Ruiz, et al., ‘Cruzando miradas’; Quirós Castillo, ‘The Future of Medieval Archaeology’. 20 Hobsbawn, ‘La fabricación en serie’. 21 Díaz-Andreu and Champion, ‘Nationalism and Archaeology’; Trigger, ‘Romanticism, Nationalism and Archaeology’.

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as Catalonia or the Basque Country, which developed their own identities and traditions; on the other hand, is the late institutionalization of social sciences. This has led to talk of a ‘weak’ Spanish nationalism that affected the constitution of archaeology as a national science.22 Medieval times did not play an important role in this process. Spanish nationalism privileged classical times (the Roman Empire, Greek colonization, pre-Roman indigenous resistances…) in the construction of a national identity; or Prehistory in the case of Basque or Galician nationalisms. 23 The consequence was a very weak development of medieval archaeology in general and Early Middle Age archaeology compared to other nation states, in particular in the Iberian Peninsula. The discoveries of the Guarrazar treasure in 1859 and the one in Torredonjimeno in 1928 were very significant and attracted the attention of many intellectuals, but they did not give rise to organized research on the Early Middle Ages.24 However, the progressive institutionalization of archaeology in Spain in the first decades of the twentieth century produced a proliferation of archaeological findings and excavations, including those of early medieval rural contexts. Thus, the Regional and Provincial Museums were important agents in the excavation of these contexts, mainly cemeteries.25 The analysis of rural Visigothic churches by scholars like M. Gómez Moreno or L. Torres and the work of German scholars such as H. Schlunk –future director of the German Archaeological Institute – and his disciples (with special mention to Th. Hauschild) also played a key role in the constitution of medieval archaeology as a discipline.26 These early founding works were fundamental to increasing scientific attention for the period and the topic of the rural world from an archaeological standpoint. Yet, they were highly positivistic, both in methodology and (lack of) interpretation, and did not prompt any particular narratives on the post-Roman rural world itself beyond the description of artefacts and monuments.27 Some exceptions are worth mentioning, such as the work of scholars like B. Taracena, who highlighted the connections between Roman and Visigothic times within the rural world, without particularizing the 22 Díaz-Andreu, ‘Archaeology and Nationalism’, p. 39. 23 Ibid.. 24 Salvatierra Cuenca, ‘La primera arqueología medieval española’. 25 This was the case for cemeteries like Carpio de Tajo (Toledo), Simancas, Renales y Palazuelos (Guadalajara), Daganzo de Arriba, Herrera de Pisuerga, Pamplona, Piña de Esgueva, or those excavated in Soria by B. Taracena. 26 Quirós Castillo, ‘Introducción a la Arqueología Medieval’, p. 53. 27 Olmo, ‘Ideología y Arqueología’.

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latter.28 At the time, however, the vision of the post-Roman rural world was commonly framed by the historical narrative derived from the documentary sources, so that archaeological data were often related to the instability of the Barbarian invasions, which entirely dismantled the Roman world. Hence, it was the ‘roman-ness’ or the ‘barbarian-ness’ of the objects, more than the social identities of their bearers, that was at the centre of the archaeological interest. The Spanish Civil War (1936-1939) and the consequent Francoist Regime (1939-1975) were a lacuna in the social sciences and forced a total reorganization of the field of archaeology.29 The ideological emphasis of the Regime on the unity of Spain and its strong connections with Nazi Germany gave rise to increasing attention for Visigothic times, considered to be the founding moment of Spain.30 Julio Martínez Santa-Olalla was the key – and extremely controversial – figure in this process, focusing the majority of this production on the ‘Visigothic cemeteries’, and thus on the rural world, as material representations of the movements of Visigoths during the Barbarian invasions (Pl. 1). Hence, the rural world was read through the paradigm of German Culture History and ethnicity.31 Ethnic identities of cemeteries found in the rural world were the primary objective of the archaeological research, obliterating any other aspects of potentially post-Roman peasantries. Thus, exceptional excavations like that at Lancha de Trigo (Diego Álvaro, Ávila), one of the earliest post-Roman rural contexts known in the Iberian Peninsula – and the first to provide us with the so-called Visigothic slates – did not prompt any analysis of the rural world, beyond cultural discussion, from archaeology.32 On rare occasions, scholars under Santa-Olalla’s influence produced some deeper considerations on the rural landscapes, but always related to the question of ethnicity and the relations between Romans and Barbarians. In his study of the Visigothic settlement pattern, the German scholar W. Reinhart underlined the distance between these cemeteries and the living populations, but always within the frame of post-Roman instability and the impact of ‘Germanic’ material culture in everyday life: ‘it is possible that some settlements or clusters of hamlets stood by them [the cemeteries], if we take into account the custom of the time of building houses in wood and the abundance of forests there.’33 28 Taracena Aguirre, ‘Excavaciones’. 29 Gracia Alonso, La arqueología del primer franquismo. 30 Olmo, ‘Ideología y Arqueología’. 31 Tejerizo García, ‘Identidad nacional y Arqueología’. 32 Gutiérrez Palacios et al., ‘Excavaciones’. 33 Reinhart, ‘Sobre el asentamiento’, p. 135. Personal translation: ‘Puede ser que hubiera poblaciones o agrupaciones de caseríos junto a aquéllos, si tenemos en cuenta la costumbre en aquel tiempo, de construir las casas de madera, y los abundantes bosques que allí había’.

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Pl. 1. Julio Martínez Santa Olalla, pictured with a snake. Originally from the Museo Arqueológico Nacional.

The end of World War II caused significant changes in archaeology that directly affected the analyses of the rural world during Visigothic times. In 1954, Santa-Olalla was expelled from his position and, thus, the development

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Pl. 2. Distribution map of ‘Visigothic’ funerary context (Palol, 1966).

of early medieval studies within the academia decelerated.34 However, Santa-Olalla’s influence in Visigothic studies was strong enough to remain virtually unchanged in terms of methodology and theoretical background.35 There were, nonetheless, some significant changes in the interpretation as scholars like P. de Palol strongly focused on Christian and Byzantine influences on the post-Roman rural world, as reflected in his monumental synthesis of the post-Roman funerary world (Pl. 2).36 These influences interacted with the ethnic basis of rural populations, creating original forms of rural cultures.37 Notwithstanding these advances, the idea of a passive and impoverished rural population – almost never called peasant – that received those influences and lived in a turbulent and unsteady world continued to be hegemonic in the field of archaeology until the 1980s. 34 Olmo, ‘Ideología y Arqueología’. 35 Tejerizo García, ‘Arqueología y nacionalismo’. 36 Palol, ‘Demografía y Arqueología’. 37 Palol and Ripoll, Los godos.

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The emergence of medieval archaeology and the beginning of the archaeology of early middle age villages The death of Franco in 1975 and the constitution of a parliamentary monarchy in Spain implied major institutional changes that also affected the scientific field of archaeology. Two of the most relevant features were the reorganization of college education and the establishment of the Autonomous Communities as one of the main administrative and political frames. The reorganization of college education supposed both an increase in investment and the creation of new public universities, which tried to meet the increased demand for higher education programmes. This meant a consequent increase in academic staff and the organization of new study plans. In this context, the 1980s saw the birth of the first medieval archaeology courses. There was also an increase in the investment in scientific research that was very beneficial for archaeology in general and, specifically, for medieval archaeology.38 These external changes in the field, nonetheless, did not correlate with a significant increase in the available archaeological data, at least in the interior of the Iberian Peninsula. Just to reinforce this idea, in the five Congresses of the Spanish Medieval archaeology (1985-1999), which amount to more than 600 papers, less than fifteen (nearly two per cent) dealt with early medieval rural contexts. However, there were some important exceptions with the documentation and/or excavation of relevant early medieval rural sites like Cuarto de las Hoyas (Pelayos, Salamanca), La Huesa (Cañizal, Zamora), or the shrine of Valdezate.39 This lack of archaeological data in the Douro basin regarding the rural world contributed to the preservation of most of the paradigms previously constructed (Pl. 3). This storyline has a turning point in relation to the progressive incorporation of some Western European debates into historiography, prompted by an expansion of academic international relations in the 1970s and 80s in the context of the Spanish integration into the European Union, made official in 1986.40 Specifically, the paradigm of the birth of the village (‘naissance du village’) developed by R. Fossier was extremely influential in the archaeology of the rural world.41 From this framework, rural landscapes before the eighth century were characterized as ephemeral and dispersed, based on little 38 Quirós Castillo, ‘La (incompleta) construcción’. 39 For Cuarto de las Hoyas, see Fabián, et al., Los poblados hispano-visigodos; Storch de Gracia, ‘Avance de las primeras actividades’. For La Huesa, Fernández González, ‘Pago de “La Huesa”’. For the shrine of Valdezate, see Reyes Téllez, Población y sociedad. 40 Tejerizo García and Quirós Castillo, ‘Treinta años de Arqueología’. 41 Quirós Castillo, ‘Las aldeas de los historiadores’, p. 69.

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Pl. 3. Cuarto de las Hoyas (Fabián, et al., 1985).

hamlets related to an underdeveloped productive system. 42 Thus, rural settlements between the fifth and the eighth centuries were commonly described as ‘proto-villages’, unstable hamlets built with perishable materials according to the necessities of highly mobile societies during the Barbarian invasions. 43 This idea of the early medieval rural world ran deep in the Spanish academy through the influence of major scholars like A. Barbero and M. Vigil or J.A. García de Cortázar, who characterized the settlement pattern in the early eighth century – and hence the seventh century too – by its instability, social disarticulation, and demographic weakness. 44 However, in the 1990s and the early twenty-first century, the increasing archaeological works on the topic and the influence of European paradigms prompted innovative works by scholars such as M. Fernández, E. Pastor, E. Ariño, J.L. Quiroga, or F. Reyes. 45 These pioneering studies not only intro42 Fossier, La infancia de Europa, pp. 51-53. 43 Chapelot and Fossier, Le village, pp. 133-135. 44 Barbero and Vigil, Sobre los orígenes sociales. García De Cortázar, ‘Las formas de organización’, pp. 16-23. 45 Within these European influences, one of the most significant was the Italian one, mainly in the figures of R. Francovich, G.P. Brogiolo or M. Valenti, among others. Further discussion on these works in Tejerizo García, Arqueología de las sociedades campesinas, pp. 45-50.

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duced new methodologies of work – such as the archaeology of landscapes or aerial photography – but also established the basis for the constitution of archaeology of the early medieval rural world. Even though they are quite different in their theoretical background and objectives, they are generally characterized by the interpretation of this rural world as a period of transition, subaltern to both Late Roman and medieval times. The former emphasized the connections of the early medieval rural landscape to the Late Roman Empire – in, for example, the continuation of the Roman villa system. By contrast, the latter highlighted the significance of the imposition of Feudalism and the Seigniorial Regime on the constitution of Iberian rural landscapes. In both cases, and as a clear move forward, the early medieval rural world gained a particular space within the discussion. However, only since the ‘silent revolution’ of the last twenty years can we talk of the consolidation of the archaeology of medieval peasantry. Commercial archaeology and the transition to the archaeology of early medieval peasantry The enactment of the Heritage Law in 1985 was the starting point for commercial archaeology in Spain, which supposed the end of the hegemony of the universities and research teams in relation to archaeology and the implementation of new archaeological methodologies, with special reference to large-scale excavations. This allowed for the studying of sites and landscapes in a comprehensive and global form. 46 Commercial archaeology and its bureaucratic institutionalization introduced a factor of randomness into the scientific field that produced unexpected effects.47 This ‘involuntary archaeology’48 became one of the causes of the discovery of early medieval villages. In the last twenty years, hundreds of early medieval rural contexts have been excavated in the Iberian Peninsula.49 Paradoxically, the destruction of cultural heritage in unprecedented quantities was the catalyst for changing the view of early medieval peasantry (Pl. 4). The incorporation of this huge amount of data into research generated a true archaeology of early medieval villages in the Iberian Peninsula.50 46 Fernández Ugalde, Metodología, p. 6; Hamerow, Rural Settlements; Nissen-Jaubert, ‘Le haut Moyen Âge’, p. 145. 47 Feyerabend, Contra el método. 48 Riera I Frau, ‘Planeamiento urbanístico’, pp. 47-48; Vigil-Escalera, Los primeros paisajes. 49 However, it is not possible to even estimate the exact number, which supposes a strong setback in the discipline (Quirós Castillo, ‘Medieval Archaeology in Spain’). 50 Kirchner,‘Sobre la Arqueología’.

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Pl. 4. Extensive excavations at Ladera de los Prados (Strato, 2002a).

Moreover, the analyses of so-called common pottery allowed for a better dating of the contexts.51 Perhaps the most relevant contribution of this process was to finally articulate a specific set of historical problems and the scientific methodologies to confront them, constructing a new object of study within the discipline. In 2006, J.A. Quirós and A. Vigil-Escalera underlined not only the importance of early medieval villages and peasantry in the restructuration of post-Roman landscapes, but also the complexities of its inner organization, even in earlier times, a vision far from instability, primitivism, and social simplicity of the ‘naissance du village’ or ethnic paradigms that characterized the discussion at the time. This line of thought proved to be a landmark in the International Congress The Archaeology of Early Medieval Villages in Europe, which took place in Vitoria-Gasteiz in 2008, where the basic agenda for the next decade was proposed.52 Founded on these contributions, the last decade has seen the transition from an object of study, the archaeology of early medieval villages, to a subject of study, the early medieval peasantry, whose principal aim is not 51 Vigil-Escalera Guirado, ‘Los últimos 30 años’, pp. 277-278. 52 Quirós Castillo, ed., Treinta años de Arqueología.

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partial aspects of the archaeological record – such as buckles – or of the social realm – such as ethnic identities – but the social relations as a whole developed in early medieval villages. This has also been contextualized by an increasing global interest in the peasantry from the 1990s, which has contributed to greater investment in research dealing with the European rural world.53 Therefore, the comprehension of the complexities of the early medieval age village as a space of social relations, and also the recognition of medieval peasantry as an active historic subject, caused an expansion of scientific perspective in archaeological academic research in Spain. New methodologies adapted to this particular set of aims, like large-scale excavation and the introduction of landscape archaeology, have allowed an approximation to other peasant structures beyond domestic architecture, for example, agrarian and productive spaces.54 Moreover, the introduction of bioarchaeological analyses – such as the analyses of pollen, stable isotopes, and fauna – have not only expanded the overall comprehension of the Iberian early medieval peasantries in aspects like diet, economic structures, or mobility, but also the redefinition of old problems, like ethnicity.55 Some of the most important contributions will be described in the next section.

Analyses of the Iberian early medieval peasantry: Some contributions from archaeology The prior historiographical analyses have delved into the genealogic process of the emergence of an archaeology of the Iberian early medieval peasantry, showing not only the scientific construction of the subject, but also the sociopolitical context that framed those studies. Now, we will briefly focus on what I consider to be the most relevant contributions of that ‘archaeological turn’ in the last decade. They do not exhaust the topic, but can be considered some of the most relevant and a foundation from which a research agenda for the future can be built. The first one is the recognition of the emergence of the early medieval peasant societies. As seen, one of the key ideas that determined the analyses 53 Van der Ploeg, The New Peasantries. 54 Fernández Mier, et al., ‘The investigation’; Kirchner, Por una Arqueología agraria. 55 Some key studies would be Grau Sologestoa, ‘Livestock management’; Loza Uriarte and Niso Lorenzo, ‘Resultados preliminares’; Sirignano et al., ‘Animal husbandry’; Vigil-Escalera, ‘Comunidad política aldeana’.

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of early medieval peasantry was that the origins of medieval peasant villages can be dated within the general context of the ‘Feudal Revolution’ of the tenth-eleventh centuries, as a consequence of a top-down process of integration of the rural population into the Seigniorial Regime. Consequently, villages before that period were something else, i.e. ‘proto-villages’, characterized by dispersion, instability, and precariousness. Archaeologically, this would be materialized by some sets of evidence, for example the presence of ‘new’ buildings in perishable raw materials – such as huts or Grubenhäuser in the extended German term – or the presence of squatter occupations in the latter phases of the Roman villas.56 However, the excavation of a significant amount of early medieval contexts has confronted these assertions. Regarding the former, the archaeology of early medieval domestic architecture has clearly surpassed the idea of its precariousness, showing a varied building panorama in which the Grubenhäuser are considered mainly as the auxiliary features of rural domestic units.57 Moreover, what the archaeological record shows is the close relationship in the post-Roman rural world with prior construction techniques, underlining a process of continuation and adaptation to a new social and economic environment more than strict rupture.58 In terms of the latter, new excavations at Late Roman villas, which also considered the surrounding sectors, such as Vilauba (Camós, Girona) or Horta da Torre (Alenteio, Portugal), demonstrate the complexities of the phenomenon of re-occupation during the fifth century.59 More than an occupation by foreigners, archaeological data points to the possibility of a social and economic reorganization of the villas by local communities. Furthermore, what has emerged from the archaeological record is the presence of a new rural landscape that can be dated from the fifth century onwards. In areas like Madrid – e.g. at the site of El Soto (Barajas, Madrid) – or the Duero basin – at the site of Carratejera (Navalmanzano, Segovia) – a significant number of a new type of rural settlements is clearly documented (Pl. 5).60 These settlements are characterized by the extensive use of sunken-featured buildings – among which, the use of silos as the main form of surplus management should be underlined – and by an internal organization of space. New forms of cemeteries, which have been named 56 Chavarría Arnau, El final de las villae; López Quiroga, Arqueología del hábitat rural. 57 Tipper, The Grübenhaus. 58 Vigil-Escalera, ‘Arquitectura de tierra’. 59 Carneiro, ‘O final das villae’; Castanyer Masoliver and Tremoleda Trilla, ‘La villa romana’. 60 Tejerizo García, ‘The End of the World’; Vigil-Escalera, ‘Apuntes sobre la genealogía’.

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Pl. 5. Silos at the site of Carratejera (Strato, 2003).

‘post-imperial’, are also related to these contexts.61 All these elements show the emergence, from the fifth century onwards, of specific forms of rural socialization that will expand in subsequent centuries. In other words, what archaeology is demonstrating is the emergence of discernible early medieval peasant identities in the immediate aftermath of the dismantling of the Roman Empire. This idea is perfectly coherent with what C. Wickham affirmed in a study of village identity between the Rhine and Seine rivers: ‘En ce sens, on peut affirmer que les villages existaient durant le haut Moyen Âge entre Seine et Rhin […]’ – and he continues: ‘mais il convient également de souligner qu’ils n’étaient pas encore très “forts”.’62 (‘In that sense, it can be said that villages did exist during the Early Middle Ages between Seine and Rhine […], but it should be noted that they were not yet very “strong”.’) So, it is crucial to underline the particularities of these forms of post-Roman social identities, different from what was to come.63 The second contribution of archaeology to these debates is the deep analyses of what are the main components of a peasant landscape: the 61 Vigil-Escalera, Los primeros paisajes. 62 Wickham, ‘L’identité villageoise’, p. 150. 63 Zadora-Rio, ‘Le village des historiens’.

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Pl. 6. Distribution of rural sites in the valley of the Eresma and the Voltoya (province of Segovia).

farmsteads and villages. One of the most common and persistent ideas in relation to the Iberian early medieval peasantry, as previously seen, is its precariousness. The dismantling of the Roman Empire, the context of the Barbarian invasions, and the pre-eminence of natural constraints over social management of risks would frame a poor and even miserable peasant condition. Documentary sources based on strict lectures on authors such as Hydatius have been widely used to argue for this idea. This precariousness would materialize in a landscape characterized by settlement dispersion, temporal occupational sites, and a low level of economic development.64 The increase in archaeological data in the last decade and recent studies on the topic have overtly criticized this vision in favour of a more complex scenario. In those areas where studies have been in-depth, they clearly show the presence of articulated networks of rural farmsteads and villages.65 In the area of Madrid, for example, survey field work and archaeological excavations have determined that there is an early medieval rural site 64 Ariño Gil, ‘El hábitat rural’; Olmo Enciso and Castro Priego, ‘La época visigoda’, pp. 63-64. 65 Roig Buxó, ‘Asentamientos rurales’; Vigil-Escalera and Quirós Castillo, ‘Un ensayo de interpretación’.

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– farmstead or village – every 2-4 kilometres, a situation that replicates in other territories all along the northern half of the Iberian Peninsula.66 These networks are characterized precisely by their stability – the common sequence of occupation covers 150-200 years, as shown in almost every known example – and their inner social organization of space, based in the domestic unit as the main axis for production and reproduction. Villages such as Ladera de los Prados (Aguasal, Valladolid) or La Mata del Palomar (Nieva, Segovia) show the presence of specialized areas for different tasks such as management, production, or habitation (Pl. 7). For its part, the village of Gozquez shows the presence of plot units for each domestic unit.67 So, what seemed an exception of post-Roman landscapes became the norm, displaying the anthropological presence of traditional and complex peasant societies during Visigothic times.68 Moreover, bioarchaeological analyses carried out in different sites in Madrid, Catalunya, and the Basque Country have shown a complex economic panorama for these networks of farmsteads and villages. The correlation of carpological and faunal studies has demonstrated the diversif ication of economic strategies within early medieval peasant societies, in order to confront risks in the mid-term.69 As for diet and alimentary studies, even though in their initial phases, they reveal a panorama far from the precarious vision lodged in traditional views on the period, although particular interpretations of the changes between Roman and post-Roman times are still under debate.70 Thus, the traditional ‘apocalyptic’ view gave way to a frame of local adaptation, resilience, and mid-term economic strategies. Another important contribution of archaeology is its critical contribution to the issue of early medieval identities. It is beyond doubt that the ethnic discussion has been crucial in the historiography of western European Early Middle Ages in general and the Iberian Peninsula in particular. Ethnic conflicts in the times of the Barbarian invasions, as important as they were, acted as a deus ex machina of the interpretation of the archaeological record: every object – with special regard to personal adornment – was considered a representation of the bearer’s ethnic identity and, consequently, Gothic 66 Vigil-Escalera, ‘Granjas y aldeas’. 67 Vigil-Escalera, ‘Formas de parcelario’; Vigil-Escalera and STRATO, ‘El registro arqueológico’. 68 Edelman, ‘What is a Peasant?’; Shanin, Peasants and Peasant Societies. 69 Grau Sologestoa, ‘Livestock management’; Quirós Castillo, Arqueología del campesinado; Vigil-Escalera et al., ‘Comunidad política aldeana’. 70 García-Collado, ‘Food Consumption Patterns’; López-Costas and Muldner, ‘Fringes of the Empire’.

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Pl. 7. Spatial distribution of features in Ladera de los Prados.

invasions became traceable through the archaeological record.71 However, this deterministic view of the archaeological record has been the object 71 It is highly interesting to notice how this line of interpretation rapidly showed its contradictions and flaws. In his well-known book The Goths in Spain, E.A. Thompson wrote that, ‘It if we

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of deep criticism in the last decade.72 Even though this is still a highly controversial issue, it has prompted new discussions and insights into the topic of early medieval rural identities. Recent archaeological analyses on early medieval funerary spaces have questioned the uniqueness and centrality of ethnicity as the main layer of identity in early medieval rural societies. Excavation of new funerary contexts all over the Iberian Peninsula have shown a highly complex panorama in which ‘Visigothic cemeteries’ – those in which the presence of ‘Gothic’ personal adornments is higher, but never reaching more than 10-15 per cent of the burials – is the exception to a general rule.73 What archaeological analysis of these rural cemeteries is suggesting is, again, the pre-eminence of the community and the domestic unit in the shaping of social identities over ethnicity.74 These proposals, evidently, do not obliterate ethnicity as a significant layer of self and communal identification, but they clearly contextualize it in the field of social relations of power at different scales.75 Moreover, the application of new methodologies, with special regard to stable isotopes (mainly strontium), has shown the weaknesses of a deterministic relation between archaeology and identities. Even though these studies are nascent, preliminary results clearly show that there is not such a direct relation between, for example, personal adornments and ‘foreign’76 individuals.77 Conversely, what these studies are showing is precisely the complexities of early medieval rural identities, in which multiple layers like gender, status, age, or religion play a part in shaping the ways rural communities conceptualize their social relations.78 Finally, archaeology has contributed in-depth to delving into the question of social inequalities within early medieval peasant societies. The passage from an archaeology of rural settlements to an archaeology of peasantry has had to rely on archaeology alone we should never guess that Spain was ruled by Germans in the seventh century.’ (Thompson, The Goths, p. 152). 72 Halsall, ‘Two Worlds’; Pohl and Reimitz, eds, Strategies of Distinction. 73 Tejerizo García, ‘Etnicidad, identidad y poder’. 74 Martín Viso, ‘El espacio del más acá’. 75 Escalona Monge and Reynolds, eds, Scale and Scale Change. 76 The use of the word ‘foreigner’ and its derivatives is not neutral and it may drive to highly ideological conclusions. In isotope analysis terms, a ‘foreigner’ within a cemetery may be a person born in central Germany or a person coming from the next valley, depending, in many cases, more on the scholar’s interpretation than the empirical data (Hakenbeck, ‘Potentials and limitations’, pp. 113-114). 77 Quirós Castillo et al., ‘Identidades y ajuares’. 78 López-Costas and Muldner, ‘Fringes of the Empire’; Montgomery et al., ‘Continuity or Colonization’; Mundee, Exploring Diet.

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developed new suggestive topics, such as discussions on the very nature of relations and social inequalities within rural communities.79 This is a topic that has already been discussed from the documentary sources, usually in relation to the status of rural population and its transformation during post-Roman times.80 Maybe one of the most complete theoretical attempts in this regard has been C. Wickham’s proposal in his monumental Framing the Early Middle Ages,81 in which he developed the idea of the Peasant Mode of Production as a particular way – evidently, from a Marxist perspective – of conceptualizing early medieval rural communities. This concept has received much attention, support, and criticism,82 but it has undoubtedly become embedded into rural communities themselves, questioning the ways social inequalities are created and normalized within them. Wickham’s proposal establishes that early medieval peasant societies within the Peasant Mode of Production are ‘seldom egalitarian units.’ 83 While they are by no means utopian communities without any social differentiation, they are societies in which inequalities are more subtle and expressed in different forms and through various and interconnected levels of identity. 84 Although slightly nuanced, this is a very approximate approach to what is documented in the archaeological record. Excavations at farmsteads and villages show an apparent equality in the economic and social capacity of the rural domestic units. This is what emerges from the study of variables like domestic architecture, pottery assemblages, or productive features. 85 However, it is precisely in the funerary contexts where subtle social differences have been regionally attested. We have already mentioned the presence of personal adornments that, in some cases, mark deep social differences in the capacity of capital accumulation for some individuals and/or families. 86 Furthermore, the presence of some particular burials in silos have been interpreted as dependent individuals excluded from the normalised ritual, showing a complex social articulation and presence of hierarchies in rural communities. 87 79 Quirós Castillo, ‘Inequality and Social Complexity’. 80 Ariño Gil and Díaz, ‘El Campo’. 81 Wickham, Framing. 82 Astarita, ‘Peasant-Based Societies’. 83 Wickham, Framing, p. 537. 84 Ennew et al., ‘Peasantry’. 85 Ariño Gil, ‘El hábitat rural’. 86 Ventola et al., ‘Visigothic Jewellery’. 87 Roig Buxó and Coll Conesa, ‘Esquelets humans’; Vigil-Escalera,‘Comunidad política aldeana’.

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Pl. 8. Metal tools from the context of La Mata del Palomar (Strato, 2002b).

The idea of social inequality and complexity within early medieval peasant societies has been a significant topic in the field of archaeology in recent years. Studies dealing with different materialities have shown the

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presence of subtle inner social inequalities, as can be the case of diet,88 metal production,89 or pottery.90 Moreover, the comparative analysis of these communities from a regional perspective is showing the presence of different forms and types of rural societies in terms of social complexity (Pl. 8). For example, some studies in Portugal and western Iberia suggest the presence of more self-governed rural societies,91 while in the north-west the articulation of rural communities in supra-local entities and the influence of elites on them may be deeper.92

Beyond the archaeological turn of early medieval peasantries Ten years have passed since J. Escalona wrote about the archaeological turn that contributed to a renewal of early medieval peasant studies. What was just a suggestion ten years ago has now become consensus. In his recent synthesis on the medieval rural world, I. Martín Viso affirms that ‘the consequence is that archaeology has become a basic source, against the traditional contempt with which it has been addressed from medieval studies.’93 Throughout this chapter, I have proposed a historiographical analysis that attempts to contextualize how the archaeological field has articulated the object/subject of study of early medieval peasantries. I have also presented those that, in my opinion, are its main contributions to the comprehension of Iberian Early Middle Ages as a whole. However, there is still much room for discussion and some aspects may well be proposed to set the agenda of research in the years to come. Perhaps the most pressing issue in relation to early medieval peasantry is to go beyond the general characterization into the nuances and particularities in regional terms. Farmsteads and villages, which were once considered exceptional, are now a recognized reality in the field, even though the relative role they played in the configuration of early medieval landscapes is something still discussed. However, once the reality is recognized, it is time to delve into its complexities through the analysis of the regional and 88 García-Collado, ‘Food Consumption Patterns’. 89 Larreina-García and Quirós Castillo,‘Ironworking Technology’. 90 Grassi et al., ‘State Formation’. 91 Tente,‘Viver em autarcia’. 92 Sánchez Pardo, Power and Rural Landscapes. 93 Martín Viso, Asentamientos y paisajes, p. 11. Personal translation: ‘La consecuencia es que la arqueología se convierte en una fuente básica, frente al tradicional desdén con el que se la ha tratado desde el medievalismo.’

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local patterns of peasant-based societies – something that is characteristic of these types of societies.94 The dismantling of the Roman Empire caused a regionalization of social processes, which was one of the main characteristics of medieval times in Western Europe until the nineteenth century,95 and so must be reflected in the varied ways peasant societies locally and regionally adapted. This is something that, as I have discussed, is present in the archaeological record but not analysed in detail. Regional comparative studies through an increase of the empirical base and the application of the already mentioned new methodologies should drive the field in the future, not only within the limits of the Iberian Peninsula but in the European context as well.96 Even though the contribution of archaeology to the study of early medieval peasantry is recognized, even by those scholars analysing the documentary sources, there is still a lack of dialogue between both types of sources.97 In this respect, Andalusian historiography is a good example of how archaeology and written sources may establish bridges of dialogue in order to construct solid narratives of the time.98 It is true that the quantity of written sources dealing with peasant societies in Visigothic times is not as great as desired, but there is much space for discussion.99 Some topics are perfect for testing the validity of this interdisciplinary approach, such as the transition from the Roman landscape into the post-Roman settlement pattern through changes on the villa system and the legal categories of rural population attached to them.100 Finally, one of the most suggestive topics related to early medieval peasantry is its insertion into and articulation of those networks of power beyond the farmsteads and villages. As discussed, concepts such as Wickham’s use of the Peasant Mode of Production have been very useful for highlighting the importance of peasant-based societies during post-Roman times. However, a common criticism is, precisely, its limits in terms of articulating these societies with the elite construction of power and the emergent post-Roman 94 Dobrowolski, ‘Peasant Traditional Culture’; Shanin, Peasants and Peasant Societies. 95 Wickham, The Inheritance. 96 Hamerow, Early Medieval Settlements; Klapste and Nissen-Jaubert, ‘Rural Settlement’; Loveluck, Northwest Europe. 97 As some scholars have repeatedly suggested, this is partly caused by inner historiographical tendencies driven by structural and departmental dynamics (Vigil-Escalera Guirado, ‘Los últimos 30 años’). 98 García Porras, ‘Treinta años’. 99 Daflon, ‘Tumultos e clamores’; Martín Viso, Asentamientos y paisajes. 100 Arce, Esperando a los árabes; Vigil-Escalera, Los primeros paisajes.

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states.101 As studies are suggesting, social inequalities within early medieval peasantry are subtle but still present. Archaeology should face the challenge not only of tackling the particularities of these inequalities, but also of how power and dominion were articulated within them. This is a suggestive terrain into which some significant studies have already delved from an archaeological perspective,102 but also with a high potential for development. As I have tried to argue, the historiographical development since the beginning of the twentieth century onwards has resulted in a relative consensus both on the importance of peasant societies in the constitution of Early Middle Ages in the Iberian Peninsula and the active role they played in its articulation. Even though the current economic and social situation is not exactly a panacea for the development of these types of studies,103 there is no reversing the incorporation of archaeology and the active role of peasantries in the configuration of Iberian Early Middle Ages. Without doubt, this, will contribute to new and interesting narratives –both academically and socially –on a crucial period of Western European History.

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Barbero, Abilio, and Vigil, Marcelo, Sobre los orígenes sociales de la reconquista (Barcelona: Ariel, 1997). Bourdieu, Pierre, ‘El campo científico’, in Intelectuales, política y poder, ed. by Pierre Bourdieu (Madrid: Eudeba, 2012), pp. 81-118. Carneiro, André, ‘O final das villae na Lusitânia romana. O exemplo da Horta da Torre (Fronteira)’, Urbs Regia, 2 (2017), pp. 56-59. Castanyer Masoliver, Pere, and Tremoleda Trilla, Joaquim, ‘La villa romana de Vilauba (Girona) durante la Antigüedad Tardía: continuidad o ruptura’, Saldvie, 2 (2001-2002), pp. 159-176. Collingwood, Robin, Idea de la historia (México: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 2004). Chapelot, Jean, and Fossier, Robert, Le village et la maison au Moyen Âge (Paris: Hachette, 1980). Chavarría Arnau, Alexandra, El final de las villae en Hispania (siglos IV-VII d.C), (Turnhout: Brepols, 2007). Daflon, Eduardo, ‘Tumultos e clamores: assembleias rurais e resistência camponesa na Hispânia Visigoda (séculos VI-VIII)’, Brathair, 15, 2 (2015), pp. 132-167. De Palol, Pedro, ‘Demografía y Arqueología hispánicas de los siglos IV-VIII’, Boletín del Seminario de Estudios de Arte y Arqueología, XXXII (1966), pp. 5-66. De Palol, Pedro and Ripoll, Gisela, Los godos en el occidente europeo (Madrid: Ediciones Encuentro, 1988). Díaz-Andreu, Margarita, ‘Archaeology and Nationalism in Spain’, in Nationalism, Politics, and the Practice of Archaeology, ed. by Philip Kohl and Clare Fawcett (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), pp. 39-56. Díaz-Andreu, Margarita, and Champion, Timothy, ‘Nationalism and Archaeology in Europe: an Introduction’, in Archaeology and Nationalism in Europe, ed. by Margarita Díaz-Andreu and Timothy Champion (London: UCL Press, 1996), pp. 1-23. Dobrowolski, Kazimierz, ‘Peasant Traditional Culture’, in Peasants and Peasant Societies, ed. by Teodor Shanin (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books,1971), pp. 277-298. Edelman, Marc, ‘What is a Peasant? What Are Peasantries? A Brief ing Paper on Issues of Definition’, paper presented at the Intergovernmental Working Group on a United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Peasants and Other People Working in Rural Areas, Geneva, 15-19 July 2013, https://www.ohchr. org/Documents/HRBodies/HRCouncil/WGPleasants/Edelman.pdf (Accessed on 14 August 2019). Ennew, Judith, Hirst, Paul Q., and Tribe, Keith, ‘“Peasantry” as an Economic Category’, The Journal of Peasant Studies, 4, 4 (1977), pp. 295-322. Escalona Monge, Julio, ‘The Early Castilian Peasantry: An Archaeological Turn?’, Journal of Medieval Iberian Studies, 1, 2 (2009) pp. 119-145.

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Escalona Monge, Julio, and Reynolds, Andrew, eds, Scale and Scale Change in the Early Middle Ages. Exploring Landscape, Local Society, and the World Beyond (Turnhout: Brepols, 2009). Fabián, José, Santonja, Manuel, Fernández, Antonio, and Benet, Nicolás, Los poblados hispano-visigodos de Cañal, Pelayos (Salamanca). Congreso de Arqueología Medieval Española, Vol. I, (Huesca: Diputación General de Aragón, 1985), pp. 187-201. Fernández González, Jorge, ‘Pago de “La Huesa” (Cañizal)’, Arqueología, 83 (1985), 137-194. Fernández Mier, Margarita, Fernández Fernández, Jesús, Alonso González, Pablo, López Sáez, José Antonio, Pérez Díaz, Sebastián, and Hernández Beloqui, Begoña, ‘The Investigation of Currently Inhabited Villages of Medieval Origin: Agrarian Archaeology in Asturias (Spain)’, Quaternary International-Journal of the International Union for Quaternary Research, 346 (2014), pp. 41-55. Fernández Ugalde, Antonio, Metodología para el conocimiento de yacimientos extensos. Actas de las primeras jornadas de Patrimonio Arqueológico en la Comunidad de Madrid (Madrid: Consejería de Cultura y Deportes, 2005), pp. 39-53. Feyerabend, Paul, Contra el método (Barcelona: Ariel, 1975). Fossier, Robert, La infancia de Europa. Siglos X-XII (Barcelona: Editorial Labor, 1984). García-Collado, Maite, ‘Food Consumption Patterns and Social Inequality in an Early Medieval Rural Community in the Centre of the Iberian Peninsula’, in Social complexity in Early Medieval Rural Communities. The North-Western Iberia Archaeological Record, ed. by Juan Antonio Quirós Castillo (Oxford: Archaeopress, 2016), pp. 59-78. García-Contreras Ruiz, Guillermo, Tejerizo García, Carlos, and Aparicio Martínez, Patricia, ‘Cruzando miradas. Historiografía de la (joven) arqueología altomedieval en la Península Ibérica’, in Actas de las V Jornadas de Jóvenes en Investigación Arqueológica. Arqueología para el siglo XXI. Santiago de Compostela, mayo de 2012 (Madrid: JAS Arqueología, 2013). García De Cortázar, José Ángel, ‘Las formas de organización social del espacio del valle del Duero en la Alta Edad Media: De la espontaneidad al control feudal. Despoblación y colonización del valle del Duero. Siglos VIII-XX’, in IV Congreso de Estudios Medievales (León: Fundación Sánchez Albornoz, 1995), pp. 13-44. García Moreno, Luis, ‘El campesino hispanovisigodo entre bajos rendimientos y catástrofes naturales. Su incidencia demográfica’, in Los Visigodos. Historia y civilización (Actas de la Semana Internacional de Estudios Visigóticos. MadridToledo-Alcalá de Henares, 21-25 octubre de 1985, special issue of Antigüedad y Cristianismo, 3 (1986), pp. 171-187. García Porras, Alberto, ‘Treinta años de una nueva arqueología de al-Andalus’, in Treinta años de Arqueología Medieval en España, ed. by Juan Antonio Quirós Castillo (Oxford: Archaeopress, 2018), pp. 95-122.

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Gracia Alonso, Francisco, La arqueología del primer franquismo (1939-1956), (Barcelona: Bellaterra, 2009). Grassi, Francesca, Quirós Castillo, Juan Antonio, Ortega, Luis Ángel, Alonso, Ainhoa, and Fornacelli, Cristina, ‘State Formation in Early Medieval Castile: Craft Production and Social Complexity’, Antiquity. Project Gallery 91, 358 (2017), https://www.antiquity.ac.uk/projgall/grassi358. (Accessed on 14 August 2019). Grau Sologestoa, Idoia, ‘Livestock Management in Spain from Roman to PostMedieval Times: A Biometrical Analysis of Cattle, Sheep/Goat and Pig’, Journal of Archaeological Science, 54 (2015), pp. 123-134. Gutiérrez González, José, ‘Fortificaciones tardoantiguas y visigodas en el norte peninsular (ss. V-VIII)’, in Las fortificaciones en la tardoantigüedad. Élites y articulación del territorio (siglos V-VIII d.C.), ed. by Raúl Catalán Ramos, Patricia Fuentes Melgar and José Carlos Sastre Blanco (Madrid: La Ergástula, 2014), pp. 191-214. Gutiérrez Palacios, Arsenio, Díaz, Manuel, and Maluquer De Motes, Jordi, ‘Excavaciones en la Lancha del Trigo, Diego Álvaro (Ávila)’, Zephyrus, IX (1958), pp. 59-78. Hakenbeck, Susanne, ‘Potentials and Limitations of Isotope Analysis in Early Medieval Archaeology’, Post-Classical Archaeologies, 3 (2013), pp. 109-125. Haldon, John, ‘Framing the Early Middle Ages’, Historical Materialism, 19, 1 (2011), pp. 47-72. Halsall, Guy, ‘Two Worlds Become One: A “Counter-Intuitive” View of the Roman Empire and “Germanic” Migration’, German History, 32, 4 (2014), pp. 515-532. Hamerow, Helena, Early Medieval Settlements: The Archaeology of Rural Communities in North-West Europe 400-900 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002). Hamerow, Helena, Rural Settlements and Society in Anglo-Saxon England (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012). Hobsbawn, Eric, ‘La fabricación en serie de tradiciones: Europa, 1870-1914’, in La invención de la tradición, ed. by Eric Hobsbawn and Terence Ranger (Barcelona: Crítica, 2002), pp. 273-318. Kelly, Michael, ‘Recceswinth’s Liber Iudiciorum: History, Narrative and Meaning’, Visigothic Symposium 1 (2016-2017), Law and Theology, pp. 110-130, https://visigothicsymposia.org/michael-j-kelly-liber-iudiciorum/ (Accessed on 14 August 2019). Kirchner, Helena, Por una arqueología agraria: perspectivas de investigación sobre espacios de cultivo en las sociedades medievales hispánicas (Oxford: British Archaeological Reports, BAR International Series: 2010). Kirchner, Helena, ‘Sobre la Arqueología de las aldeas altomedievales’, Studia Histórica: Historia Medieval, 28 (2010), pp. 243-253. Klapste, Jan, and Nissen-Jaubert, Anne, ‘Rural Settlement’, in The Archaeology of Medieval Europe. Vol. 1. Eighth to Twelfth Centuries AD, ed. by James

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Vigil-Escalera, Alfonso, and STRATO, ‘El registro arqueológico del campesinado del interior peninsular en época altomedieval’, in El poblamiento rural de época visigoda en Hispania. Arqueología del campesinado en el interior peninsular, ed. by Juan Antonio Quirós Castillo (Bilbao: Universidad del País Vasco, 2013), pp. 289-328. Vigil-Escalera, Alfonso, Moreno García, Marta, Peña-Chocarro, Leonor, Llorente Rodríguez, Laura, Sabato, Diego, and Ucchesu, Mariano, ‘Productive Strategies and Consumption Patterns in the Early Medieval Village of Gózquez (Madrid, Spain)’, Quaternary International, 346 (2014), pp. 7-19. Wickham, Chris, Framing the Early Middle Ages (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005). Wickham, Chris, The Inheritance of Rome: A History of Europe from 400 to 1000 (London: Penguin, 2009). Wickham, Chris, ‘L’identité villageoise entre Seine et Rhin, 500-800’, in Autour du « village ». Établissement humains, finages et communautés rurales entre Seine et Rhin (IVe-XIIIe siècles), ed. by Jean-Marie Yante and Anne-Marie Bultot-Verleysen (Louvain-La-Neuve: Université Catholique de Louvain, 2010). Zadora-Rio, Elisabeth, ‘Le village des historiens et le village des archéologues’, in Campagnes médiévales: L´homme et son espace. Études offertes à Robert Fossier, ed. by Elisabeth Mornet (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 1995).

About the author Carlos Tejerizo is a post-doctoral researcher at the Institute of Heritage Sciences (Incipit-CSIC, Spain). His main line of research is the study of the archaeology of peasant societies in the longue durée and, more specifically, of the archaeology of early medieval peasant societies in the Iberian Peninsula. He has deeply analysed different archaeological records of peasant societies including domestic architecture, funerary contexts, and pottery analysis. He has recently published a book on the topic and several papers both in Spanish and international journals. He is now investigating the archaeology of resistance and the resilience of peasant societies during the emergence of new state powers.

5.

Excolentes sacra fontium vel arborum: Pagan Cults, Kinship, and Regimes of Sacralization in the Visigothic Kingdom of Toledo Eleonora Dell’ Elicine Abstract In the case of the Visigothic realm, information about tree and fountain ‘pagan’ cults is particularly terse, limited to a handful of conciliar canons and scarce allusions in scientific treatises and hagiographies. In any event, the existence of some non-ecclesiastical regimes of sacralization can be detected. They activate other ways of promoting religious authority and other cultic actors. These regimes of sacralization uphold memories and powers of parental or local communities that locate effective points of articulation in the soil and its signs. In this chapter, I explore the regimes of sacralization instituted by these actors and examine which logics they could be articulating through their practices. Keywords: Idolatry, Regimes of Sacralization, Central Powers, Local Powers

In 693, during Egica’s rule, the bishops congregated in the sixteenth council of Toledo claimed: On the subject of idol worshippers: it is manifest that the enemy of the human race, according to the words of the Apostle, runs around the world roaring and seeking whom he may devour, since using various tricks and distortions and deceiving many fools, he never ceases to ensnare them in its ties; and even though the Lord commands that you shall not make any sculpture for yourself, nor any image of what is in heaven above or on the earth below, etc., and still in another part: ‘Thou shalt not make

Dell’ Elicine, E. and C. Martin (eds), Framing Power in Visigothic Society. Discourses, Devices, and Artefacts. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2020 doi 10.5117/9789463725903_ch05

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any idol nor sculpture, nor raise sanctuaries, neither shalt thou place a distinguished stone in your land to adore it’, and later: ‘Thou shalt fear the Lord thy God, and serve Him only’, these fools, deceived by various persuasions, become idol worshippers, stone devotees, torch igniters, and they worship sources and trees as holy places, they become seers or enchanters, and many other things that would be very lengthy to tell.1

This text is one of the meagre sources of information that we have regarding practices considered ‘idolatric’ in Visigothic times. In contrast with other regions, such as Britain and Gaul, the hagiographic, epigraphic, and archaeological documentation related to parallel cults in seventh-century Iberia is lean and oblique. In response to this scarcity, a frequent practice is to resort to extrapolations, decontextualizations, and generalizations of the available data. The obvious bias carried by textual sources is yet another barrier that can be added to this shortage of information.2 As is usually the case with the legislation related to these parallel cults, the enumeration of practices standardized different rites regardless of their nature, origin, or functions.3 Visigothic jurists certainly defined idolatry by extension: for seventh-century learned Bible readers, the convergence of all these practices in the same textual space def initely connoted folly, 4 rebellion,5 and the kingdom’s imminent danger caused by Jahve’s wrath.6 1 Tol. XVI, 2, ed. Vives: II: De idolorum cultoribus: Manifestissime liquet quod hostis humani generis, ut Apostolus narrat, per mundum rugiens currat quaerens quem devoret, nam diveso tergiversationis suae astu quamplurimos insipientium decipiens suis eos decipulis inretire non cessat: et cum Dominus praecipiat: ‘Non facies tibi sculptile neque omnem similitudinem quae est in caelo desuper et quae in terra deorsum’, et reliqua; et iterum: ‘Non facietis idolum et sculptile nec titulos erigetis nec insignem lapidem ponetis in terra vestra ut adoretis eum’; rursumque ‘Dominum Deum tuum adorabis et ipsi soli servies’; illi diversis suadellis decepti cultores idolorum efficiuntur, veneratores lapidum, accensores facularum, excolentes sacra fontium vel arborum, auguratores quoque seu praecantatores, multaque alia quae per longum est enarrare. 2 Díaz Martínez & Torres, ‘Pervivencias paganas’, p. 236; Ando, ‘Praesentia Numinis’, p. 62; Martin, La géographie du pouvoir, p. 273; Fernández, ‘Property, Social Status, and Church Building’, p. 513. 3 Another example of an enumeration of practices in the civil law in LV VI, II, 4. 4 E.g. the treatment of idols and stones in Wis. 13, 10. Thompson looks over the legal information on this topic (Thompson, The Goths, p. 51-56). 5 In 1S 15, 23 – for instance, sorcery is qualified as a sin of rebellion, inasmuch as it puts at risk Saul’s continuity on the throne. 6 In 2K 17, 7 idolatric practices as the erection of pagan shrines, veneration of statues and stones, burning incense, human sacrifices and sorcery kindled Jahve’s wrath and caused the end of the Kingdom of Israel.

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In spite of their weak descriptive intention, these sources can be used to study the so-called idolatric cults focusing as much as possible on their context of production, writing aims, and the actors they involved.7 Although the substance of these devotions is most difficult to grasp, the available data is sufficient to suggest that these cults were informal mechanisms of constitution and consolidation of various groupings, and that these practices established a self-referential type of locality. According to this hypothesis, the idolatric practices would not be surplus ingredients or mere colourful features, but particular devices of community-making in such a fluid and open society.

Reorganizing society: Conciliar laws against idolatry Let us reflect on the proceedings of the second canon of the sixteenth council of Toledo. We know that Egica led a strongly centralized policy8 promoting, simultaneously, anti-Jewish canons,9 measures against suicide,10 as well as sodomitic practices.11 The anti-idolatric laws were consonant with this strategic move, forming an expeditious way of keeping landlords, judges, and bishops in line.12 As we can infer from the canon, Egica’s measures primarily took aim at local lords. The anti-idolatric penalties they imposed ignored any privilege of ‘gender or condition’, punishing a slave, an inferior, or a nobleman in equal terms. In this avenging crusade, no role at all was assigned to local lords, and in case they refused to cooperate, they would be made to repay the Treasury three pounds of gold. If the norm were not devoutly fulfilled, then the public officials in charge of carrying out the eradication of such a sacrilege – namely, judges, bishops, and priests – would also be punished with one year’s penance and replaced. These measures clearly show that Egica sought to bring all the local hierarchies in line under the idolatric 7 In examining the transition from pagan places of worship to Christian churches, Hahn, Emmel & Gotter come to a very similar conclusion concerning the possibility of analysing pagan cults from Christian sources (Hahn, Emmel & Gotter, From Temple to Church, p. 2). 8 Factual information about the period in Orlandis Rovira, Historia de España, pp. 264-5; Díaz Martínez, Martínez Masa & Sanz Huesma, Hispania tardoantigua y visigoda, p. 602; Barbero de Aguilera & Loring García, ‘The catholic visigothic Kingdom’, p. 365. 9 Tol. XVI, 1; in the civil law LV XII, 2, 18. 10 Tol. XVI, 4. 11 Ibid., 3. 12 Ibid., 2.

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issue, proposing unprecedented gatherings using the argument of that it was a serious and urgent problem. In terms of idolatric cults, the treatment given to local landlords by the sixteenth council was severe, but not novel.13 It followed on from the measures already taken by Ervig, mentor and rival of Egica, at the twelfth council some years before. In fact, canon XI of this synod granted the landlords only a minor part in the eradication of idolatry, restricting them to monitoring the conduct of those slaves who had already been punished by public authorities. Certainly, such an anti-idolatric measure also sought to override the power of the lord, but at least it acknowledged his secondary role in its agenda of order.14 In turn, this canon dialogued with a norm from many decades earlier: canon XVI of the third council of Toledo. That meeting, a real cornerstone of the Visigothic Kingdom, endowed the lord with the legal authority to discipline his rebellious dependents, simultaneously threatening him with excommunication if he did not achieve this pastoral assignment.15 As we can observe, these three anti-idolatric measures pushed against the power of the local lords, and the pretence of the authority of kings and metropolitan bishops certainly rose from one council to the next. Our sixteenth synod, the terminal stage of a growing escalation, plainly circumvented privileges afforded to local lords. This brief inspection exposes the leading role gained by the council for the persecution of idolatric cults in the Visigothic society. In other historical contexts, the ecclesiastical hierarchy made use of the council while, at the same time, reserving for itself other tools that circumvented the civil system. One example is that of Martin of Braga: the prominent Suevic bishop certainly mobilized the conciliar tool, meanwhile sketching 13 The first mention of the role accomplished by the landlords in relation to religious offerings in the Iberian synods is canon LX of the Council of Iliberris, celebrated around 300-306. Here, Christians are commanded not to consider those rents provided to the idols as part of their regular income. Admittedly, the context is conspicuously different from the one examined in this paper, since its Christian project – at this point, both the one of the hierarchy and the possessores – is not expansive but, quite the opposite, it tries to consolidate an identifying distance (see Sotomayor Muro, ‘Cristianismo primitivo’, pp. 178-9). Regarding Visigothic councils, see Orlandis Rovira, ‘La problemática conciliar’; Orlandis Rovira & Ramos Lissón, Historia de los concilios; Sánchez Herrero, ‘Concilios y sínodos hispanos’; Stocking, Bishops, Councils and Consensus; Harries, ‘Dispute settlements’; Gusmão, ‘The Role of the Bishop’, Díaz Martínez, ‘Concilios y obispos’, among many others. 14 A still fine overview of Ervig’s measures against Idolatry in King, Derecho y sociedad, p. 170. 15 A particular reference to the role played by Toledo III in Velázquez Soriano, ‘Leges in Confirmationem Concilii’, pp. 58.

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in his De correctione – drafted precisely in the context of Braga II – other ways of intervention that involved the clergy only. 16 In contrast with their Suevic precedent, the Visigothic bishops relied on the council and therefore on the alliance with the monarchy to weigh in on the idolatric issue. The reasons for this strategy were manifold. Firstly, for the Visigothic bishops – as well as for the kings – the guidelines established by Toledo III were an unavoidable reference, a source of legitimacy for all political actions, and a guarantee of the balance of powers. An equally significant reason was that, in spite of the expansion documented by archaeology,17 the bishops did not deem the network of rural parishes sufficiently dense to promote Christianization, and, crucially, they did not exercise enough control over clerical appointments due to the multiplication of proprietary churches.18 Some circumstantial reasons can also explain why the council became the main clerical intervention device concerning idolatry in different junctures. In the twelfth council of Toledo, the strengthening of royal power carried out by Ervig favoured the authority of the bishops in the territory. Some years later, in the sixteenth Toledo, Egica’s centralist project reinforced the distance between the metropolitan and the diocesan bishops: this whole set of reasons sheds light on why, with respect to idolatry, the Visigothic clergy considered the council to be instrumental in gaining a foothold in the territory. We can also observe that the council promoted some typical procedures guaranteed by their written nature. The mere presence of an authoritative text rearranged cultic practices completely, since it imposed general 16 In fact, De correctione is an opuscule written in order to guide bishops and clerics in their pastoral undertaking. This is what Martin points to at the beginning (Mart. Brac., De Correctione 1). For the Suevic Church, see Díaz Martínez, El reino suevo, p. 218; Sánchez-Pardo, ‘Organización eclesiástica’; Ubric, ‘The Church in the Suevic Kingdom’. Concerning the particular expansion of the clerical structure in Braga, Fontes, ‘Powers, Territories, and Architecture in North-West Portugal’. 17 Related to Iberia, Chavarría Arnau, ‘Churches and aristocracies’; idem, ’Tumbas e iglesias en Hispania’; Sánchez-Pardo, ‘Las iglesias rurales’, idem, ‘Iglesias y dinámicas sociopolíticas’; idem, ‘Organización eclesiástica’; Quirós Castillo & Santos, ‘Founding and Owning Churches’; Martínez Jiménez, Sastre de Diego, and Tejerizo García The Iberian Peninsula between 300 and 850, p. 218, among many others. 18 Concerning proprietary churches in Iberia, Torres, ‘El origen del sistema de ‘iglesias propias’; Martínez Diez, ‘El patrimonio eclesiástico en la España visigoda’; Loring García, ‘Nobleza e iglesias propias’; Fernández, ‘Property, Social Status, and Church Building’. For the eleventh and twelfth centuries Pérez, ‘Proprietary churches’. Essential in the field, Wood, Proprietary Churches, p.19. A comparative approach from the archaeological point of view in Sánchez-Pardo and Shapland, Churches and Social Power.

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parameters on facts that were inseparable from their context of production.19 The council’s message stripped the condemned practices of their particular temporal regimes and enrolled them as hindrances to the divine plan. As far as we can perceive, the conciliar canon primarily attempted to remove grounds and sense from the rites it denounced, and its written character largely helped to strengthen the central-power imprint of the council.20 Up to this point, we have been able to verify that the legislative sources available for examining idolatry are inseparable from the programme of social reorganization propelled by central forces. Conditioned by these circumstances, the available sources do not facilitate a linear reading of the cultic practices, but they allow us to inspect, in the opposite direction, the transformations they attempted to apply, and to explore the functions of the cults denounced. Such scant information must be interpreted in the context of the forces that generate it, resulting in a markedly fluid and changing picture.

The idolatric cults: A way to act upon the territory In order to explore these practices, we will go back to the list detailed by the sixteenth council: idol worshipping; stone veneration; torch lighting; devotion to sources and trees; and the performance of omens and enchantments. The insertion of the magic arts into the current list highlights the strained character of this enumeration: for the whole set of practices listed here, with the exception of magic arts, location is paramount.21 The canon, in fact, draws together practices of completely different provenances, traditions, and structures under the shared figure of ‘idolatry’. Our list begins with idol worshipping and stone veneration, i.e. iconic and non-iconic ways of evoking the divine.22 In rural areas of seventh-century Iberia, it is highly likely that non-iconic veneration was more widespread 19 Goody, La cultura escrita, p. 12; Innes, ‘Memory, Orality and Literacy’; Keller, ‘Oralité et écriture’; Ferrari, ‘Potere, publico e scrittura’. 20 Chartier and Madero, ‘Poderes de escritura’, p.147. 21 Sporadically persecuted by Roman emperors since Tiberius, magic arts considered procedure more relevant than location. See Caseau, ‘Late Antique Paganism’, p. 113; Kieckhefer, Magic in the Middle Ages, p. 41. An examination of the issue from the end of the Republic in Rives, ‘Control of the Sacred’. 22 An interesting argument about the problem of iconicity in the Roman religion in Ando, who stresses the difference between ‘figuration’ and ‘resemblance’ (Ando, ‘Praesentia Numinis Part 2: Objects, p. 57; also in Stewart, Statues in Roman Society, p. 44).

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than the worship of statues, since everything indicates that, from the fifth century onwards, and for complex reasons, statues became private property and were later discarded, broken, and buried, as a result of having lost their place as objects of veneration.23 In the seventh century, the inclusion of the veneration of statues in the idolatry index may have served the purpose of becoming attached to biblical catalogues far more than accounting for current rites. Regarding Visigothic law, the consecration of an object was principally the responsibility of the bishop, and this ritual act ensured public recognition, immediate transfer to the ius ecclesiasticum, as well as management and alienation rules.24 The object of idolatric worship was obviously outside these rules, therefore its ways of consecration, stability, and public status were different. In an attempt to scorn idolatric cults as rustic and primitive, our sources do not specify which kind of relationship bound together the object of worship – statue, stone, water source, or tree – with the divine. This ambiguity suggests that idolatric worshippers identified the object of devotion with the deity itself or with its residence.25 We could expect the sources to have adopted an animism stance; however, considering the spread of cultic 23 Ando acutely questions the consideration of statues as sacred objects in the Roman religion, at least from the Republic onwards. He distinguishes a ‘cultural action’ from an ‘honorific’ one, placing behaviour towards statues into the latter category (Ando, ‘Praesentia Numinis Part 3: Idols, p. 66). An examination of the ambiguous condition recorded for Roman statues in Christian times in Ribeiro Machado (‘Religion as antiquarianism’, p. 351). A nod to the practice of showing ancestors statues during a funeral in rural environments in Sulpicius Severus, Vita Martini 12, 2. 24 When, while providing a commentary of Gaius in Brev. Al., Gaii Inst. II, I, the Alarician jurists tie divine law to churches, they are not referring only to their architectural foundations, but rather to templa Dei, uel ea patrimonia ac substantiae. Buildings, patrimony and substantiae (riches) accommodate as a whole in the ius diuinum, insomuch as they belong (quae pertinent) to the ecclesiasticum ius. The jurists do not pause to specify what the ecclesiasticum ius is. The concept comes closer to the ancient category of ius templorum (see for this, for example, C. Th. X,1,8), which supposes the juridical institution of the temple as a persona ficta, and therefore the temple’s competency over its own building, lands and patrimony. This arrangement requires a natural person for its supervision. For instance, in the case of the ecclesiasticum ius, the adjective metonymically references a singular persona ficta, the Church as a whole, and, while addressing personae fictae, an episcopal manager as well. If episcopal consecration did not mediate in fact, the cultic building could be erected but it would be considered ius priuatum, no authoritative mark distinguishing it initially from the rest of its founder’s patrimony (see for instance Braga II, V). Concerning the juridical treatment of sacred places see Lér. III, celebrated in 546. 25 In this case, using Peirce’s categories, the cultic object would be an index of the deity (Peirce, Semiotica, p. 102, n. 8). A utilization of Pierce’s Semiotics in order to study the relationship between divinity, community and cultic object in Ando, ‘Praesentia Numinis Part 2: Objects’, p. 68; idem, ‘Praesentia Numinis Part 3: idols’, p. 64.

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authorities that characterizes the period, we cannot rule out the possibility that some of these cults posited a physical relationship between the object and the divine. In any case, animism implies a focused relationship with the territory. The object-god or his/her residence is concentrated in one place: that is to say, the cultic object is situated. The statue, stone, water source or tree, could have given way to a more sophisticated theological design. Specialists in these cults in Roman religion directly contest the oversimplification that involves considering these worships as animisms, arguing that, in the Roman era, they constituted positive ways of gaining access to deities difficult to comprehend from a single aspect.26 It is probable that sixth- and seventh-century idolatric cults also involved this symbolic kind of relationship with the divine. We can observe that this tie assumed a focused relationship with the territory as well, since the object imbued itself with the bond with the worshipped divinity. As can be observed, by assuming a physical or a symbolic relationship, the object of idolatric cults marked the territory and became a spatial referent.27 Its sacrality was awarded by rite and not by law.28 In turn, this was echoed in the ways of structuring spaces: firstly, this system of topographical signals was quite unstable, given that the sacred nature of the object endured only as long as its effectiveness or the will of the cultic groups. Secondly, the effect of this way of referencing the territory was complex, a result of the overlap of different sacralizations and bonds to the sacred. Finally, the acknowledgement of the signals did not depend on boundary markers, or on any other technology supported by public law, but rather on the experience and memory of the worship community. A practice quoted by the conciliar list still remains to be considered: the lighting of torches.29 We know that in Roman religion this practice was a domestic rite that marked the daily shift from daylight to darkness. In treaties such as Isidore’s De natura rerum or in Sisebut’s poem, issues related to light, solar rhythm, eclipses, and the celestial vault are major concerns, despite the fact that our list does not mention any other rite related to this agenda.30 Were it so, we would have enough information to observe more accurately other ways of orientation, local and astral. 26 See Rüpke, On Roman religion, p. 52; Hunt, Reviving Roman Religion, p. 237; Ando, ‘Praesentia Numinis Part 2: Objects’, p. 68. 27 Smith, To take place, p. 25. 28 Ando, ‘Praesentia Numinis Part 2: Objects’, p. 66. 29 Bowes, Private Worship, p. 83; processions in Dowden European Paganism, pp. 83, 107. 30 See, for instance, Isid. De Nat., XVII; Ep. Sis. 19 and ff., ed. Fontaine.

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With the available data, it is safe to assert that the idolatric cults did set up ways of territorial reference. Certainly, they were not the only systems of marks. Over the last few years, for instance, Iñaki Martín Viso has repeatedly argued that the arrangement of graves could be a particular way of marking land in rural environments, tied to an oral record and to groups f irmly established in the land.31 These tombs dug in the earth would unfold their own code as well: family control over an area in some cases, community sovereignty in the allocation of the territory in others. Idolatric references would overlap with this system, partaking in oral recognition and adding new marks to the territory. In any event, as we can see, the kind of locality that emerged from these intricate ways of marking the earth did not have to coincide with the districts drawn by the central powers. Fundamentally, these ways of marking were self-referent, they submitted to no territorial hierarchies organized by the king. Idolatric worship was a local pattern upon which to act within the territory.

A talking space: Sacrality, cultic groups, and local chiefdoms As noted, the action that consecrated an idolatric object was the rite itself. The cultic group highlighted a single object among many others for different reasons: an extraordinary feature; a past event that remained associated to the object; or a combination of both. Many scholars tend to explain these particular ways of vesting an object with sacrality by positing that idolatric rites of the sixth and seventh centuries sprang from old Roman cults or even from pre-Roman devotions. Seminal texts in this field, such as McKenna’s or more recent experts like Filotas, Jiménez Sánchez, and Sánchez Andújar, hold that after the fifth-century invasions there was a return to ancestral practices. They base their argument on information wrenched from its context of production and arranged in series as manifestations of the same figure.32 Firstly, placing the origin of idolatric cults of the sixth and seventh centuries in the Celtic religion challenges the information we have, since the archaeological and epigraphic sources that record syncretism barely 31 Martín Viso, ‘Tumbas y sociedades’, p. 32; idem, ‘Enterramientos, memoria social’, p. 3; idem, ‘Paisajes sagrados’, p. 134; idem, ‘A place for the ancestors’, p. 228. 32 McKenna, Paganism and Pagan survivals, p. 129; Filotas, Pagan survivals, p. 29; Jiménez Sánchez, ‘La legislación civil’, p. 76; Sánchez Andújar, ‘Pervivencias paganas’, p. 10.

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reach the third century AD, as Toutain perceived.33 Since then, identities have tended to make reference to themselves through objects that do not portray a local indigenous past.34 Conversely, if we placed the origin of these cults in the Roman religion, we would find that the available sources evidence significant changes between the end of the fourth century and the fifth. In fact, legal sources,35 pagan temples,36 and statues37 point rather 33 Toutain, Les cultes païens, pp. 2-155. In McKenna, one of these dates proposed by Toutain (McKenna, Paganism and Pagan survivals, p.11). 34 In Hispania Epigraphica, there are 214 records listed under the heading ‘indigenous divinities’. Setting aside false inscriptions, 89.27% of the texts cannot be dated with certainty. The remaining 10.73% of these inscriptions belong to the first and second centuries a.D., and only a few examples to the third century (record 448 from Lusitania, for instance, in which one C. Iunius Silanus offers a shrine dedicated to a divinity of Celtic name -Coso? Udunnaeco?-). See http://eda-bea.es/pub/search_select.php (Accessed on 14 August 2019). 35 Since the reigns of Constantine and especially his son Constans, some measures standardizing and constraining sacrifice and divination were progressively implemented according to three leading orientations: rules commanding the closure of temples (e.g. C. Th. XVI, 10, 4 enacted in 346), laws expelling experts of divination from the cities (C. Th. IX,16, 12 bestowed in 409 by Valentinian, Theodosius and Arcadius), measures hindering access to the army and to public positions (C.Th. XVI, 10, 21 given in 416). Even though there would be many ways of sidestepping or mitigating the application of the law, this expertise turned to be personally risky and socially unattractive for the well-to-do classes in terms of two or three generations at most. These new circumstances fostered a retreat of the whole activity into safer places. The Breviary of Alaric collects a Theodosian Novella against the ‘nefarios sacrificiorum ritus et funestae superstiones errores occultis exercere quodammodo solitudinibus dedignentur’ (BA, Novellarum Divi Theodosii Liber I, III, 8, eds Rodríguez Gil et al.). For the legislative activity of the Christian emperors in this field, Gaudemet, ‘La législation religieuse’; Salzman, ‘Superstitio in the Codex Theodosianus’; Watts, Religion in Late Roman Britain, p. 25; Rives, ‘Magic, Religion and Law’; idem, ‘Control of the Sacred’. 36 Concerning temples, towards the end of the fourth century one can observe in Iberia – as in the rest of the provinces of the Empire – a reuse of the sacred places for residential purposes, removals, spolia, etc. (López Quiroga & Martínez Tejera, ‘El destino de los templos paganos’, p. 134; Arce, ‘Fana, Templa, Delubra’, pp. 205-6; Ripoll and Arce, ‘De los cultos paganos’, p. 349; Martínez, Sastre de Diego, and Tejerizo García, The Iberian Peninsula, p. 79; Buenacasa Pérez, ‘La decadencia y cristianización de los templos paganos, p. 28; general for the Empire, Lavan and Mulryan, The Archaeology of Late Antique ‘Paganism’; with a particular focus on the Eastern part, Hahn, Emmel, and Gotter, From Temple to Church). Some examples as the case of the Temple at Claudio Marcelo Street in Corduba show an even earlier abandonment (Carrillo et al., ‘Córdoba’, pp. 33-4 in fact propound a disuse since the late third century; some years after, the same research team even thinks about a fall into disuse from the end of the second century; see Murillo et al., ‘El templo de la c/ Claudio Marcelo’, pp. 83-4). Despite the fact that civic temples – according to our sources – have not been the setting for the cults we are examining, this change of location is precisely reflecting a remodelling of the ritual performances. 37 Concerning statues, as already observed, evidence shows dismissals or concealments from the end of the f ifth century, the last stage of a long process started a century before with the dismantlement of temples and the re-appropriation of statues as aesthetic objects

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to a large-scale reorganization of the religious practice. According to the information we have, there is no evidence in sixth- and seventh-century Hispania for the persistence of Roman cults. Moreover, and in contrast to the information we have about Britannia (Romano-Celtic temples, postmortem rites),38 in Iberia there is no particular basis for postulating an ethnic identification of religious practices. In the Visigothic realm, idolatry responded to situations related to local and immediate junctures. To explore in that direction, we must start with the only piece of information we have: the social actors mentioned by the sources. The councils, in fact, involve two different juridical statuses: slaves and ingenui. The sixteenth Council of Toledo begins by alluding to slaves, an evident way to tense the foundations of the local lords’ power, as well as to heavily establish the association between idolatric cult and servile practices. In spite of this, the content of the canon may well account for an empirical participation of slaves, since their skills and knowledge in relation to the sacred could position them better in the delicate balances that afffected the household.39 The existence of domestic lararia in kitchens and areas associated with servile tasks is recorded in Roman houses very early, confirming the control of some domestic rites already exercised by slaves during the Principate. 40 In (Ribeiro Machado, ‘Religion as antiquarianism’, p. 351; Caseau, ‘Religious intolerance’, p. 491). As Garriguet Mata implies by studying the mutilation of Roman sculptures in the city of Corduba, the fact that by the end of the fourth century –in this case – statues were reused, broken, or hidden, suggests a deactivation of the power of these cultic objects, which allows to posit a crucial religious shift (Garriguet Mata, ‘Imágenes sin poder’, p. 101). Undeniably, laws and archaeology come together in undermining the idea of a continuity of ritual practices throughout the period between the fourth and seventh centuries, at least in their Roman development. 38 In Brittania, the items of information that patently indicate an ethnic identification with a pre-Roman substratum are the Romano-Celtic temples (Horne, ‘Roman or Celtic temples?; Watts, Religion in Late Roman Britain, p. 7), some rites like post-mortem decapitation (Watts, Religion in Late Roman Britain, pp. 44, 74), burials with horses (Watts, Religion in Late Roman Britain, p. 46), etc. For Celtic religion, see Cunliffe, The Ancient Celts, p. 258; Santos Cancellas, ‘Las identidades de la religión castreña’. 39 Concerning the issue of slavery in the Visigothic society, see Castellanos, ‘Terminología textual’; Osaba, ‘Reflexiones’, 63; Córcoles Olaitz, ‘The manumission’. For a broader scope concerning imperial slavery, Scheidel (Scheidel, ‘Slavery’, p. 90). 40 Regarding servile involvement in the domestic religion in Rome, see Kaufmann-Heinimann, ‘Religion in the House’, p. 198; Bowes, Private Worship, p. 30. Once again, the council of Iliberris takes us back to the religious bond between the domini and the slaves of their households. In that circumstance, we may remember, the bishops highly recommend striking down the idols

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Roman society, a slave’s scope for action was restricted by a distinct hierarchy of cultic authorities: not only their lords, but also agents of public religion like priestly colleges, competent officers, etc. 41 After being dismantled, since the Christian clergy had not fully achieved a territorial monopoly of the sacred, the lord’s authority was practically the only effective control on servile cultic initiatives. Displaying alternative rites, slaves participated in domestic matters such as fertility, health, fortune, memory of the dead, perpetuation of the Name, etc.42 These practices helped to strengthen domestic bonds: it is patent in this case that idolatric rites reinforced an existing social framework. However, the same rites directed the opposite way could be used to cause harm or endanger domestic stability, strengthening factions or contributing to the dissolution of the residential/parental bond. In this situation, the idolatric cult acted upon conflicts. In any case, whether in their cohesive or in their conflicting aspects, idolatric cults were mechanisms that gave identity and dynamics to the domestic unit. The involvement of the servile familia in idolatric cults immediately activated a lord’s authority. Regardless of whether he would promote these devotions actively or only permit them, reject them, or plainly ignore their existence, the idolatric rite showed on a local scale the kind of power exercised by the head of the household – its intensity, its actual extent, its strategies inside and outside the family, the lord’s ties to the central powers, etc.43 Rather than a history, the idolatric cult activated information about existing powers. In fact, these powers created their own genealogy by displaying cultic rites. Idolatric cults set up complex political ciphers that could only be recognized on a local scale, engraving it onto the territory through the cultic object. Up to this point, the household emerges as the main reference of idolatric cults in the Visigothic society: this explains why local parameters are preferred to ethnic explanations. However, local groupings could be manifold: from the houses; at any event preventing situations of conflict and even violence on the part of the slaves (see also Sotomayor, ‘Cristianismo primitivo’, p. 179). 41 Horster, ‘Living on Religion’; North, ‘The pontifices’; Curchin, ‘The role of civic leaders’. For Republican times, see Rosenverger, ‘Republican Nobiles’. 42 Sarabia Bautista, ‘La casa romana’; Gutiérrez Lloret, ‘Casa y casas’; Bowes, Private Worship; Houses and Society. For the concept of ‘House’ or of ‘domestic unit’ in the way used here, see Huebner, ‘Household’, pp. 76-7; Lévi-Strauss, ‘Histoire et Ethnologie’, p. 1224; Lamaison, ‘La notion de maison’; Gillespie, ‘When is a House’; González-Ruibal, ‘House societies’; Nevett, ‘Family and Household’. 43 An interesting discussion about the power of local domini during the Late Roman Empire in Bowes, Houses and Society, pp. 70-80.

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patronage networks; clusters of friends and allies; nets of relatives; communities of residence; and even regional factions. The idolatric cult could either reinforce all these existing frames, or, to the contrary, it could bring together conflicts and resistance, giving rise to new groupings and factions. While qualified slaves could participate in them, such groupings required legal capacity in order to achieve membership. As stated previously, the conciliar rules of the sixth and seventh centuries also mention the involvement of some ingenui in the banned devotions. To a large extent, the ability of these groups to exercise pressure depended upon the social position of their free members: consequently, monitoring these networks could turn into political capital within the territory. 44 In summary, three elements can be retained from this discussion. Firstly, idolatric rite was an informal device ready to cement different types of groupings at a local level. Due to its flexibility, this practice could reinforce existing bonds or direct conflicts and invigorate new ones. In Visigothic society, units like households, communities, or kinship were highly dynamic settings, continuously defining and redefining themselves through devices of that kind. Secondly, idolatry was in contact with the powers of local lords and heads of households. This tie was not a simple one, since the ritual action could raise awareness of weakness and even of unskilfulness at exercising authority. The ritual action bore marks to be interpreted about this power, opportunities to test its intensity and strategies. The cultic object would store these signals for those involved in these frames of power, and eventually even for those who would report them in the future. In this way, a sacred topography – in parallel to the Christian one in the process of being introduced – stored detailed references about lords, ways of commanding, participants, conflicts, etc. Thirdly, it is evident that the idolatric rites cannot be explained as resistance to a colonizing power or as expressions of popular support persisting over time. The deployment of these cults, as we have seen, put practitioners of heterogeneous statuses in positions of social recognition.45 Regular attendance to the cults, either by the lord, or by other free men or even by slaves, involved strategy and calculation in order to add prestige and power to the groups of reference. Idolatric cults were supported because they took an active role in the construction of the current bond of power forces on a local scale. 44 Fernández, Aristocrats and Statehood, p. 20. 45 Fifth- and sixth-century Paganism as a way to explore alternative efficacies in Harl (Harl, ‘Sacrifice’, p.18).

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Taken together, all these remarks lead us to ask ourselves whether, in Visigothic society, the definition of locality was unequivocal, or whether there was more than one way of understanding the small scale.

Locus, central powers, and ways of understanding the small scale: A conclusion This paper began by highlighting the centralist character of the anti-idolatric measures taken by the sixteenth Council of Toledo: centralist because they sought vertical alignments in the territory, centralist because they reinforced constraints against local lords, centralist because of their written and legal character. Central powers in the Visigothic realm utilized a distinct vocabulary in order to organize the territory. Céline Martin describes it in La géographie du pouvoir: Territorium, conventus, dioecesis, commissum, parochia, provincia – words that, in their entirety, associated the territory with the institutional framework;46civitas, urbs, castrum, castellum, vicus, villa, and locus, to single out different kinds of settlements. 47 In both cases, they were reference systems, i.e. words that gained meaning when connected to others, arrangements that organized territories and settlements hierarchically relating all of them to a central focus. Even locus – a minor settlement, as the Vita Aemiliani, the Lex Visigothorum, or the slates show48 – was a relative category, in as much as it echoed a hierarchy of residential settlements and a power that organized the territory. The type of locality founded by the idolatric rites – and by the territorial arrangements, rock graves in this case – was largely different. Primarily, it was a spatial experience, the result of small-scale practices; it did not depend on the design of a central power. Secondly, as a consequence of those movable, oral, and manifold practices, the resulting forms of organizing the territory were complicated: they juxtaposed criteria and were only intelligible for those directly involved in them. Lastly, this kind of locality 46 Martin, La géographie du pouvoir, pp. 62- 84. 47 Ibid., pp. 32- 40. 48 VE, 30, 2; 37, 2, ed. Oroz. Martin considers that this territorial unit is bivalent: according to her, locus would refer concurrently to a center of production and to a residential area (see Martin, La géographie du pouvoir, p. 39). The civil law alludes to the presence of public powers (see LV VI, II, 4 already quoted, for instance). Examples of slates referring to loci en sl. 40 postica; 140. Concerning the sixth century, Dipl. 23, Cartula testamenti, ed. Canellas López.

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was a self-referenced spatial experience; that is to say, none of the marks it relied on, either graves or cultic objects, referred to an external, centralized focus. This is a regime of spatialization brought together through the action of the groups serving in it. In this way of organizing the territory, the land was marked by men and not vice versa. In the Visigothic realm, these forms of experiencing locality were in incessant contact with the centralized ways of putting the territory in order. In fact, the juridical system, the central administration, the expanding rural parishes, the exchange networks, and even the lords themselves were all committed to bringing these localities into a broader framework. In this particular display of forces, central powers sought to overlook the local lords, who, in turn, sought to reserve a mediating role for themselves. Considering this, idolatric cults did not endure because they were carrying an ancestral burden: they lived on because, as a whole, they were an issue up for negotiation.

Abbreviations CNRS Conseil National de la Recherche Scientifique CSIC Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas MGH LL Nat. Germ Monumenta Germaniae Historica – Leges Nationum Germanicarum Sett. Sp. Settimane di studio del Centro italiano di studi sull’alto Medioevo

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Sánchez Herrero, José, ‘Concilios y sínodos hispanos e historia de la Iglesia española’, Hispania. Revista Española de Historia, 175 (1990), pp. 531-552. Sánchez-Pardo, José, ‘Las iglesias rurales y su papel en la articulación territorial de la Galicia medieval (ss. VI-XIII). Un caso de estudio’, Mélanges de la Casa de Velázquez, 40-1 (2010), pp. 149- 170. Sánchez-Pardo, José, ‘Iglesias y dinámicas sociopolíticas en el paisaje gallego de los siglos V-VIII’, Hispania. Revista Española de Historia 73, nº. 243 (2013), pp. 11-50. Sánchez-Pardo, José, ‘Organización eclesiástica y social en la Galicia tardoantigua. Una perspectiva geográficoarqueológica del Parroquial Suevo’, Hispania Sacra, 66 (2014), pp. 438-480. Sanchez-Pardo, José and Shapland, Michael, Churches and Social Power in Early Medieval Europe. Integrating Archaeological and Historical Approaches (Turnhout: Brepols, Studies in the early Middle Ages, 2015). Santos Cancelas, Alberto, ‘Las identidades de la religión castreña: propuesta de estudio’, Revista Historia Autónoma, 5 (2014), pp. 13-26. Sarabia Bautista, Julia, ‘La casa romana como espacio de conciliación entre el ámbito doméstico y la representación socio-económica del dominus: Algunos casos de estudio del conventus carthaginiensis’, in De la estructura doméstica al espacio social. Lecturas arqueológicas del uso social del espacio, ed. by Sonia Gutiérrez Lloret and Ignasi Grau Mira (Alicante: Publicaciones de la Universidad de Alicante, 2013), pp. 169-190. Scheidel, Walter, ‘Slavery’, in The Cambridge Companion to the Roman Economy, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), pp. 89-113. Sisebutus rex, Epistula, ed. by Jacques Fontaine, Isidore de Seville, Traité de la Nature suivi de l’Épître en vers du roi Sisebut à Isidore (Bordeaux: CNRS, Bibliothèque de l’École des Hautes-Études hispaniques, fasc. 28, 1960). Smith, Jonathan, To Take Place. Toward Theory in Ritual (Chicago, IL and London: The Chicago University Press, Chicago studies in the History of Judaism, 1987). Sotomayor Muro, Manuel, ‘Cristianismo primitivo y Paganismo romano en Hispania’, Memorias de Historia Antigua, 5 (1981), pp. 175-185. Stewart, Peter, Statues in Roman Society. Representation and Response (Oxford: Oxford University Press, Oxford Studies in Ancient Culture and Representation, 2003). Stocking, Rachel, Bishops, Councils and Consensus in the Visigothic Kingdom (589633) (Michigan, MI: University of Michigan Press, History, Languages and Culture of the Spanish and Portuguese Worlds, 2000). Sulpicius Severus, Life of Martin, ed. by Pablo Saez, Sulpicio Severo. Vida de san Martín de Tours (Victoria: ECUAM, Nepsis, 1990). Theodosiani libri XVI cum constitutionibus Sirmondianis et leges novellae ad Theodosianum pertinentes, 2 vols, ed. by Theodor Mommsen and Paul Krueguer

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(Berlin: Weidmann, Königlich Preussische Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin, 3a ed., 1962). Thompson, Edward A., The Goths in Spain (Oxford: Oxford Clarendon Press, 1969). Torres López, Manuel, ‘El origen del sistema de “iglesias propias”’, Anuario de Historia del Derecho Español, 5 (1928), pp. 83-217. Toutain, Jules, Les cultes païens dans l’Empire Romain. Première partie: Les provinces latines. Tome 3: Les cultes indigènes nationaux et locaux: Afrique du Nord, Péninsule Ibérique, Gaule (Paris: Leroux, 1920). Ubric Rabaneda, Purificación, ‘The Church in the Suevic Kingdom (411-585 a.D.)’, in Culture and Society in Medieval Galicia. A Cultural Crossroads at the edge of Europe, ed. by James D’Emilio (Leiden-Boston, MA: Brill, The Medieval and Early Modern Iberian World, 2015), pp. 210-243. Velázquez Soriano, Isabel, Documentos de la época visigoda escritos en pizarras, siglos VI-VIII, 2 vols. (Turnhout: Brepols, Monumenta Palaeographica Medii Aevi, series hispanica, 2000). Velázquez Soriano, Isabel, ‘Leges in Confirmationem Concilii: The Relationship between the Monarchy and the Church in Visigothic Hispania’, Visigothic Symposium 1 (2016-2017), Law and Theology, pp. 57-80, https://visigothicsymposia. org/isabel-velazquez/ (Accessed on 14 August 2019). Vives, José, Marin Martínez, Tomás, and Martínez Diez, Gonzalo, eds, Concilios visigóticos e hispano-romanos (Barcelona-Madrid: CSIC, Instituto Enrique Flórez, 1963). Watts, Dorothy, Religion in Late Roman Britain. Forces of Change (London-New York: Routledge, 2002). Wood, Susan, Proprietary Churches in the Medieval West (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006).

About the author Eleonora Dell’ Elicine is Senior Lecturer in Ancient History at Universidad de General Sarmiento (Argentina) since 2011. Her research field is the political, intellectual, and social history of Europe in the Early Middle Ages, with particular interest in the Visigothic Kingdom in the seventh century. She focuses on the semiotic ways in which the Visigothic Church managed to communicate authority – specially liturgy, chronicles, and miracles. Since 2014, she has been working on the problem of superstition and idolatrous practices. Eleonora has authored a number of books and published several articles in academic journals related to her field of interest both in Spanish and English.

6. Ervig and Capital Penalties: The Way of Exile Céline Martin

Abstract The legal system of the Visigothic Kingdom was significantly indebted to Roman law, and for a long time it preserved the Late Roman capital penalties of death and deportation. Yet, Ervig’s reign appears to be marked by a turning point, at the end of the seventh century: his laws ended the coexistence of both penalties in the Visigothic penal system, leaving exile as the only punishment incurred by political and religious offenders. Such a reform needs to be carefully weighed: was it a real break with prior penal practice? Can it be interpreted as a Christian reform of the civil law? And what about the seemingly increasing confusion between exile and servitude? Keywords: Romano-Germanic Law, Death penalty, Exile, Seventh Century, Visigothic kingship

Research on Visigothic history is severely constrained by the paucity of available evidence.1 In many areas, historians are all but blind and will probably remain so in the future unless new sources turn up unexpectedly, as has recently happened.2 Most of the documentation on which scholars can ground their historical discourse is normative, and to a lesser extent narrative, hence indicating that some avenues of research are easier to explore than others. Penal history is one such avenue. In the Visigothic realm, as in other geographical areas, it has been traditionally addressed mainly by 1 I would like to thank warmly Roger Collins and Capucine Nemo-Pekelman for reading a draft of this chapter and considerably improving it; the remaining imperfections and errors are mine alone. 2 Four previously unknown sixth-century charters from the Pyrenean monastery of Asán have just been edited by Tomás Faci and Martín Iglesias, ‘Cuatro documentos inéditos’.

Dell’ Elicine, E. and C. Martin (eds), Framing Power in Visigothic Society. Discourses, Devices, and Artefacts. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2020 doi 10.5117/9789463725903_ch06

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jurists; yet, historians, too, have something to say about legal history, as has been made plain by recent (and not so recent) developments in scholarship concerning the Later Roman Empire. In the Visigothic kingdom of Toledo, royal power relied on the law both to ensure its own legitimacy and to exercise political control over the elites; accordingly, studying political power involves an awareness of legal history and especially the history of punishment. Fines apart, Visigothic penalties affected convicts either physically or in their legal capacity.3 The loss of some or all civil rights (the latter involving confiscation) could be compounded by decalvatio4 (itself a supplementary penalty), flogging, exile, enslavement, or death. I will focus here on exile, which was inherited from Roman law in several forms. Exile originally was a capital penalty,5 a simple circumvention of death, designed as a privilege for the few. By the end of the Roman Empire, it could be inflicted in the form of deportatio (lifelong assignment to a harsh place of living with loss of citizenship, which entailed confiscation of all or part of one’s estate and incapacity to make a will), the milder and more flexible relegatio (temporary or permanent assignment to some place, with or without confiscation), or banishment (prohibition from staying in a particular city or province); unlike deportatio, the latter two were not considered capital punishments. Banishment was usually labelled exilium in the documentation, although the term could actually refer to any of the known forms of exile, and even to the harsher sentence of forced labour in the mines (metalla).6 Leaving aside the monastic world, there is no evidence for the existence of prison sentences for free persons in the Visigothic penal system,7 which would make a case for Mommsen’s views on this topic.8 3 See Petit, ‘Crimen y castigo’, pp. 42-60, who correctly adds spiritual penalties to the list from the seventh century on, and somewhat questionably labels all deprivations of civil rights as infamia. 4 This problematic late antique penalty consisted of either cutting the scalp or merely shaving the head. It was recently addressed by Crouch, ‘The Judicial Punishment’ and Dumézil, ‘La peine de décalvation’. 5 See Dig. 48.1.2. 6 On the various forms of exile in the Late Roman Empire, see: Delmaire, ‘Exil, relégation, déportation’ and Rivière, ‘L’interdictio aquae et igni’. 7 Díaz, ‘Las cárceles en la Hispania visigoda’. 8 According to Mommsen, imprisonment as a punishment did not exist in Roman criminal law: Mommsen, Römisches Strafrecht, pp. 960-963. Debate about the genesis of prison as a penalty is still lively. See Pavón Torrejón, La cárcel y el encarcelamiento, pp. 171-208 and more recently Hillner, Prison, Punishment and Penance, pp. 119-150 (pace Mommsen, she asserts that such a penalty did exist in practice in the Roman Empire); conversely, Rivière, Le Cachot et les fers (who

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Admittedly, the difference between exile with assignment to a monastery (usually including ecclesiastical penance) and imprisonment can be tenuous, and the former probably evolved into the latter.9 Still, symbolically, the two meant opposing things. Exile was about exclusion from the community, not about reclusion. It put the onus not so much on the place where the convict was to stay as on the place where he was not to stay. It has been argued that in the seventh-century Visigothic realm, prison and exile had already merged;10 that theory needs to be fully reviewed, but I shall not address that specific point here. Instead, I shall examine the general development of the different forms of exile in the Visigothic kingdom, with a special focus on King Ervig’s penal reform of 681. Firstly, it should be pointed out that Visigothic exile was no longer a privilege of the elite. Offenders of any status were liable to that punishment: clerics and laymen; potentes and pauperes; and even slaves.11 Yet, it was reserved for the most serious crimes: the Liber Iudiciorum12 decrees exile only for political crimes (LV II, 1, 6 and 8), sexual crimes (LV, III, 5 and 7), certain homicides (LV, VI, 5, 12 and 18), and for military (LV IX, 2, 8 and 9) and religious offences (LV XII, 2 and 3).13 Furthermore, it retained the character of a substitute punishment: in most of these cases, the norm was the death penalty, which had progressed again from the third century onwards at the expense of exile.14 The different forms of exile are not easy to detect in the sources as their terminology is often chaotic: not only is the simple word exilium equivocal, but the terms relegatio and deportatio were used indistinctly even before Visigothic times, sometimes even within the same document (in the redaction of an imperial constitution).15 An illustration of this problem, already in sixth-century Iberia, is the fact that the chronicler John of Biclaro relates with the same words the fate of the lay plotter Segga (who apparently suffered deportation) and the Arian Bishop Sunna of Mérida

claims that Mommsen’s dogmatic assertions have now been demonstrated by archaeological, legal and literary studies). 9 See the important study by Hillner, Prison, although she did not discuss the Visigothic realm. 10 Prego de Lis, ‘La pena de exilio’. 11 Petit, ‘Crimen y castigo’, p. 58. 12 Further abbreviated LV (for Leges Visigothorum, the title chosen by Zeumer for his edition in the Monumenta). 13 See the table below. 14 Callu, ‘Le jardin des supplices’, and Grodzynski, ‘Tortures mortelles’, for whom punishment became harsher mostly in the fourth century. 15 Delmaire, ‘Exil’, p. 115; Vallejo Girvés, ‘In insulam deportatio’, p. 157, n. 44.

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(who was banished).16 Did the increasing confusion of legal terminology observed in post-classical law and thereafter necessarily bring about an equivalent conceptual confusion? Or, conversely, might later jurists have intellectually kept alive legal differentiations that their language reflected ever more poorly? These are ambitious questions, and it may be wiser to try to answer them issue by issue than comprehensively.17

Forms of exile in the Visigothic sources On the specific point addressed here, Roland Delmaire underlined the necessity for historians to be mindful, beyond the lack of precision of late antique sources, of the distinction between the three main forms of exile.18 Heeding that warning,19 an attempt can be made to distinguish between them on the basis of context (mentions of mutilations, flogging, chaining or other marks of public humiliation of the convict) and of tell-tale adjectives like arduus (hard), artus (tight, severe) or districtus (strict), sometimes used in the superlative. All seemingly hint at deportation, although the word itself does not appear in the Visigothic sources. These are the criteria followed in the table below for the choice of ‘relegation’, ‘deportation’, or ‘exile’ (when unclear), regardless of the Latin words employed in each case. The fact that exile is labelled ‘perpetual’ does not necessarily mean deportation (relegation could be perpetual too); nor does deprivation of property, which is not equivalent to confiscation if the law mentions its passing on to the convict’s heirs; besides, a relegated convict could suffer confiscation too. Accordingly, in some instances, I have just recorded ‘exile’ without being more specific. Our table lists references to the penalty of exile found in civil law sources only: according to these, deportation was apparently the most common, as was the case in the Later Empire.20 There are some probable cases of mere relegation in the narrative sources, but it can be suspected they sometimes originated from the king’s own will rather than from sentences passed by tribunals. One of these cases concerned John of Biclaro himself, who was 16 John of Biclaro, Chronicon, 87. See Martin, ‘L’évêque dans un petit navire’, pp. 48-50. 17 For a definite no to the second question when applied to Visigothic law, see Marey, ‘Уголовное и гражданское право’; for a much more balanced view, King, Law and Society, p. 87ss. 18 Delmaire, ‘Exil’, p. 132. 19 This was also the approach followed by Vallejo Girvés, ‘Los exilios de católicos y arrianos’, in studying the reigns of Leovigild and Reccared. 20 Carbasse, ‘Le droit pénal romain’, p. 72.

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exiled to Barcelona for ten years under King Leovigild, until c. 588.21 Although a native of Lusitania, he subsequently founded the monastery of Biclaro in the region of Tarragona, before becoming Bishop of Gerona. This suggests that during his exile he enjoyed good relations with the local catholic clergy. Another case is Count Bulgar, relegated by King Witteric (603-610) to Narbonne, in the custody of Bishop Sergius, who, according to Bulgar himself, treated him in a dignified way (digna susceptione) regardless of royal orders.22 Bulgar was clearly a member of an aristocratic faction hostile to the king; back at court, he witnessed Witteric’s murder during a banquet in 610 and openly rejoiced at his death.23 At the end of the seventh century, the exile of Theudefredus, Ruderic’s father, was another case of aristocratic strife. According to the tenth-century Chronicle of Alfonso III, Egica ordered Theudefredus to be blinded and expelled from Toledo; he then settled in Córdoba and married the highborn Ricilo.24 Such a marriage suggests he had conserved his conubium (right to marry), speaking in Roman legal terms, or at least his aristocratic status (dignitas). In any case, deportation would not have allowed him to make an aristocratic marriage, and so this can be understood as a mere relegation. On the contrary, when, several decades earlier, as reported by the Chronicle of Fredegar, Chindaswinth had harshly put down his aristocratic opponents, he took charge of their wives and daughters and married them off to his own followers.25 This must mean 21 Hunc supradictum rex, cum ad nefandae haeresis credulitatem compelleret, et hic omnino resisteret, exilio trusus, Barcinona relegatus, per decem annos multas insidias et persecutiones ab arrianis perpessus est (Isidore of Seville, De Viris Illustribus, 31: ‘As that king had compelled him to adopt the faith of the wicked heresy and he had resisted in every respect, he was made an exile in Barcelona and for ten years had to endure numerous attacks and persecutions by the Arians’). 22 Bulgar, Epistolae, XIII. 23 Ibid, XIII and XIV. 24 Teodefredo oculos euellere precepit. Qui a regia urbe expulsus Corduba adiit habitandus, ibique sortitus est ex magno genere huxorem nomine Ricilone, et ex eis natus est filius iam ditus Rudericus (Chronicle of Alfonso III, 6 [Rotense version]: ‘He ordered Theudefredus to have his eyes removed. But he, expelled from the royal city, settled in Córdoba, where he got a spouse of high origin named Ricilo, from whom he had a son, the mentioned Roderic’). 25 Cumque omnem regnum Spaniae suae dicione firmassit, cognetus morbum Gotorum quem de regebus degradandum habebant, unde sepius cum ipsis in consilio fuerat, quoscumque ex eis uius uiciae prumtum contra regibus qui a regno expulsi fuerant cognouerat fuesse noxius, totus sigillatem iubit interfici aliusque exilio condemnare eorumque uxoris et filias suis fedelebus cum facultatebus tradit. (Chronicle of Fredegar, IV, 82: ‘And then, having made sure of his power throughout the Spanish kingdom and knowing the Gothic weakness for dethroning their kings (for he had often been involved with them in such conspiracies), he ordered the killing, one by one, of all those whom he knew to have been compromised in rebellion against kings who had

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the victims who were still alive had lost their family rights, and especially, their manus (power of a father or a husband) on their womenfolk: hence their exile must have been a deportation.26 On the whole, we do not have enough data to determine whether between the sixth and seventh century deportation increased at the expense of relegation or vice versa. It is noteworthy, however, that after the case of bishop Sunna (a. 587) there is no further evidence of banishment in the Visigothic sources,27 although Recceswinth’s imprecisely worded law against heretics (LV XII, 2, 2) might still have referred to banishment.28

Ervig’s reform of penal law In January 681, three months after assuming royal power, King Ervig proceeded to amend the Liber Iudiciorum, with the help of the fathers of the Twelfth Council of Toledo. The new version of the code included 34 new laws and amended in some way or another 80 of the previous ones.29 On that occasion, Ervig removed from the law the death sentence for political and religious offences. Death certainly remained the theoretical sentence for other offenses, such as homicide30 or the marriage of a free woman to one of her own slaves,31 so he cannot be credited for having abolished the death penalty as such. Still, Ervig’s legislation did show a frequent concern to avoid the culprit’s death.32 Since political and religious offences were been dethroned. Others he condemned to exile, and gave their wives, daughters and inherited possessions to his followers.’, transl. by Wallace-Hadrill, p. 70). 26 Although little information is available, Roman family law seemed to survive quite well in Gothic polities. See Arjava, ‘The Survival of Roman Family Law’. 27 Martin, ‘L’évêque’, pp. 54-55. 28 A heretical cleric, ‘having parted with his place and dignity honour, will be liable for a perpetual fault’ (amisso loci et dignitatis honore, perpetuo reatu erit obnoxius); a heretical layman, ‘removed from his honour and place, will be deprived of all property’ (et honore solutus et loco, omni rerum erit possessione nudatus). See the table below, law no 9. 29 King, Law and Society, pp. 19-21. 30 See the table below, law no 4 on parricide. Besides, for homicide in general, Ervig added to the extant law, which ordered death (LV VI, 5, 16), the delivery of the culprit to the victim’s parents if he had sought asylum in a church: that could suggest it was a most common case. 31 LV, III, 2, 2. 32 An instance, not reported in the table below, is Ervig’s amendment of LV, VI, 5, 18 (law no4) replacing exile of the parricide by his delivery to the victim’s relatives in cases of church asylum (a treatment paralleled in his amendment of homicide in general, see note 30). It is specified they may do anything to him, ‘provided his soul be safe’; the same expression appears in other corrections by Ervig.

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closely related in Visigothic Iberia,33 it makes sense to examine their penal treatment in law simultaneously. This treatment can be summarized in the following way. Before Chindaswinth, a political offence (equivalent to the quite fuzzy Late Roman crime of maiestas, high treason)34 was probably punishable under a law of Euric, now lost,35 and that Leovigild may have amended at the end of the sixth century. According to Isidore of Seville, during his reign, Leovigild variously inflicted death or exile on political offenders.36 In 643, one year after his own coup, Chindaswinth issued a new law on this matter: it decreed death – or, as an act of clemency, blinding – for betrayal, sedition, or an attempt to overthrow the king.37 That law was amended by Ervig in 681: instead of death or blinding, he now imposed exile for all political criminals: […] although he will not undergo death or blinding as was so far decreed in law, [the culprit] will suffer decalvatio and be flogged a hundred times, then endure the most severe and perpetual exile; besides, he will never be able to recover the dignity of palatine office, but, changed into a king’s slave and brought under his power by the chain of a perpetual servitude, he will be subjected to an eternal relegation into exile.38

The humiliating decalvatio and flogging, as well as the permanent loss of dignity faced by the convict, make it likely that here Ervig had deportation in mind. Yet, the use of the words seruus (slave) and seruitus (servitude) is striking: is the law about exile or penal enslavement? I shall return to this issue at the end of this paper. In any event, from Ervig onwards, political criminals in the Visigothic realm were no longer liable to death as they had been since Leovigild and most probably since Euric. 33 Although in recent years this point has nearly become a commonplace, see primarily Petit, ‘“Iustitia” and “Iudicium”’, pp. 910 ff. 34 Carbasse, ‘Le droit pénal romain’, pp. 58-59. On the gradual broadening of maiestas from the Republic to the Later Empire, Garnsey, ‘Why Penalties become Harsher’, p. 145. 35 This lost Eurician law was supposedly the common source for the extant Lex Baiwariorum, II, 1 and Edictus Rothari, c. 1 and 4. See Zeumer, ‘Geschichte der westgothischen Gesetzgebung II’, pp. 59-61. 36 Isidore of Seville, Historia Gothorum, 51. 37 See the table below, law no 6. 38 […] et si nulla mortis ultione plectatur aut effosionem perferat oculorum, secundum quod hac hucusque in lege fuerat constitutum, decaluatus tamen C flagella suscipiat et sub artiori uel perpetuo erit religandus exilio pene et insuper nullo umquam tempore ad palatini officii reuersurus est dignitatem, sed seruus principis factus et sub perpetua seruitutis catena in principis potestate redactus, eterna tenebitur exilii religatione obnoxius (LV II, 1, 8, Ervig’s version).

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In the religious sphere, the Visigothic penal system traditionally distinguished between heretics and Jews. We have little evidence about heretics before the enactment of the Liber Iudiciorum. As seen above, in 587, Arian Bishop Sunna was subjected to banishment, as had often been the case for heretics since the time of Theodosius.39 In 654, together with the Liber, Recceswinth issued a new law on heresy: it prescribed exile with confiscation for all, additionally depriving clerics of their office and laymen of their honours.40 In contrast, before Ervig, Jewish offenders were generally liable to execution. Admittedly, we don’t know what penalty Sisebut threatened Jews with to force baptism on them, since his decree (c. 615) is lost: for some authors it was death, for others, exile.41 But his law on Christian slaves did sentence their Jewish owners to death if they tried to convert them; and thirty years later, King Chindaswinth undoubtedly decreed ‘a most ugly death’ (turpissima mors) for any judaizing Christian (LV XII, 2, 16). Likewise, Recceswinth sentenced ‘apostate’ Jews (which means, forced converts who would keep on practicing Judaism) to a very humiliating death, by stoning or burning, inflicted by the other members of the ‘Jewish people’ (gens iudaeorum).42 This was the common penalty for all offenders listed in a series of anti-Jewish laws simultaneously issued by Recceswinth,43 although it permitted execution to be commuted to enslavement. All these previous laws on religious dissidence were further reviewed by Ervig. He added to the Liber a new libellus (booklet) that stands, in his version, as the third chapter of Book XII, and closely parallels the Recceswinthian laws of the second chapter. Some of the previous laws were confirmed and restated, while many of them were amended. Strikingly, the one establishing a common death penalty for Jewish convicts was explicitly abrogated: Hence the law entitled On the penalty by which Jewish transgression should perish, since ‘God does not desire death, nor does He delight in the perdition of the living’, owing to the fact it consists in the destruction of the dying, will no longer retain validity. 44 39 See Escribano Paño, ‘El exilio del herético en el s. IV d.C.’. 40 LV XII, 2, 2 (see n. 28 and the table below, law no 9). That law did not apply to Jews, but to heretics only: see Martin, ‘Les juifs visigothiques’, pp. 328-329. 41 For a review of opinions on this matter, see González Salinero, Las conversiones forzosas, pp. 29-30. 42 LV XII, 2, 11 (see the table below, law no 14). The two types of death penalty draw on a constitution of 329 by Constantine (C. Th. XVI, 8, 1). 43 LV XII, 2, 4 to 10. 44 Unde lex ipsa, que inscribitur De pena, qua perimenda sit transgressio Iudeorum [= LV XII, 2, 11], quia ‘Deus mortem non uult’, ‘nec letatur in perditione uiuorum’, pro eo, quod in se peremptionis continet morientium, in nullo uere ualetudinis retinebit statum. […] (LV XII, 3, 1).

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With such an abrogation, Ervig equated the penal treatments of heresy and of Jewish contumacy. Henceforth, the penalty for the latter, detailed in each of his new laws, would most often be deportation with flogging and decalvatio, and confiscation of all of the culprit’s property. 45 To sum up, in issuing his new code, Ervig suppressed the use of the death penalty for plotters and all political criminals, as well as for religious dissidents. How may we interpret such a transformation of the Visigothic penal system?

Legal reform and practical change To start with, we should be careful not to exaggerate the extent of the change produced by Ervig’s penal reform. While dealing with Antique or Early Medieval law, it is essential to keep in mind the distinction between legal theory and judicial practice. 46 In other words, the harsher penalties provided for by the law were not necessarily implemented, either because the judge, in his sentence, would follow a milder interpretation, or because its enforcement was impractical. As it turns out, there are grounds for arguing that religious and political criminals could frequently escape the death penalty in the Visigothic realm, even before Ervig’s times. Let us return to Chindaswinth’s law against betrayal and sedition. 47 As seen above, it provided for the death penalty or for blinding as a form of leniency and did not seem to allow scope for exile. Yet, its last sentence mentions the possibility of an act of mercy by the king: the culprit would then receive some landed property valued, at most, at a twentieth of his previously confiscated belongings, but in no case drawn from them. 48 Although there is no explicit reference to exile here, such a geographical exclusion necessarily means that the beneficiary of the king’s leniency would have to move from his prior dwelling place. Even if the Chronicle of Fredegar is usually ill-informed on Peninsular affairs, it may be no accident that it actually 45 See table below, laws no 15. 46 At this point, I must acknowledge my debt to Garnsey, ‘Why Penalties become Harsher’, who built his whole argument about penal change in Roman times and grounded part of his conclusions on such a distinction. 47 LV II, 1, 8, on table below law no 6. 48 Nam si humanitatis aliquid cuicumque perfido rex largiri uoluerit, non de facultate eius, sed unde placuerit principi tantum ei solumodo concessurus est, quantum hereditatis eiusdem culpati uicesima portio fuisse constiterit (Ibid., ed. by Zeumer, p. 57: ‘For if the King, for the sake of humanity, should like to bestow any goods to one treacherous, they shall not be drawn from his [prior] property, but only from where the prince shall fancy, and their value shall not exceed a twentieth of it’).

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describes Chindaswinth’s repression of the aristocracy in terms of violent death and exile.49 Moreover, in 646, a conciliar canon added an ecclesiastical component to the extant secular law, making explicit reference to it: it decreed excommunication, along with the existing confiscation of property, for all lay political offenders, and it established a punishment for clerics convicted of the same charges.50 There is little sense in excommunicating an already dead culprit, so we must surmise the beneficiaries of the king’s leniency were numerous enough to justify an additional penalty by the Church, only a few years after Chindaswinth’s allegedly fierce repression. Another case of application of Chindaswinth’s law against sedition was the uprising against King Wamba in Narbonensis and Tarraconensis. After suppressing the revolt in 673, Wamba proceeded to judge the rebels. Among the documents compiled by Julian of Toledo, narrator of the revolt and its suppression (Historia Wambae), features an account of the trial51 stating that the culprits were condemned on the grounds of a conciliar canon (Conc. Tol. IV, c. 75) and the law under consideration here.52 The sentence mentioned by the Iudicium was issued ‘on the instruction of the canon’, which condemned political criminals to a perpetual anathema,53 and was meant to punish them in their body and property according to secular law, inasmuch as the conciliar fathers had already chastened them in their soul.54 Paul and 49 See above, n. 25: the chronicler claims Chindaswinth cracked down on ‘all that he knew had caused harm to the kings who had been expelled from the throne’ (quoscumque […] contra regibus qui a regno expulsi fuerant cognouerat fuesse noxius). Being explicitly retroactive, LV II, 1, 8 was to be applied immediately after being issued (642/3), on the ground of charges going back to Chintila’s reign (636–639). 50 Conc. Tol. VII, c. 1, in Colección Canónica Hispana, vol. V, pp. 338-347. 51 Iudicium in tyrannorum perfidiam promulgatum, ed. by Levison. 52 His excursis atque perlectis, canonum est prolata sententia ex concilio Toletano era LXXV […]. Deinde legis est relata sententia in libro II, titulo I, era VI, ubi ad locum sic dicit: Quicumque ex tempore reuerendae memoriae chintilani principis usque ad annum, Deo favente, regni nostri secundum uel amodo et ultra […] (Iudicium, 7, ed. by Levison, p. 534: ‘These texts having been examined and read through, the sentence of the Council of Toledo, canon 75 was quoted […]. And after that the sentence of the law in Book 2, title 1, chapter 6 was referred to, where it reads: “Whoever, from the time of King Chintila of revered memory to – God granting – the second year of our reign, henceforth and in future”, etc.’, transl. by Martínez Pizarro, pp. 238-239). On the whole procedure, see Petit, ‘Rex iudex’, pp. 43-44. 53 De commonitione plebis ne in principes delinquatur (Conc. Tol. IV, c. 75, in Colección Canónica Hispana, vol. V, pp. 256-257). This important canon has been the subject of many comments by historians and jurists. See Petit, ‘Rex iudex’, p. 45. 54 Cuius sacri canonis praeceptione instructi, non ultra nobis est dubitandum, ut illos paueamus iuxta legis huius sententiam et in corpore et in rebus temporali puniri censura, quos iam patres illi perpetuo anathemate tam terribili iudicio damnauerunt in anima. (Iudicium, 7, ed. by Levison, p. 534: ‘Taught by the precept of these holy rulings, we could no longer hesitate or fear to chastise

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his supporters were therefore to undergo a ‘most loathsome death’ and the confiscation of all their belongings, saving their lives only if the King decided to grant them clemency, whereby they would be blinded.55 However, some years later, we hear about them again: Ervig, who was undoubtedly close to their aristocratic faction, having recently come to power, decided on a judicial amnesty, which was enacted at the Thirteenth Council of Toledo.56 In 683, the plotters of 672 thus recovered their aristocratic status, along with some of their former properties to maintain it. This obviously means they were still alive, and we must understand that, after the judicial sentence of death was issued in Nîmes, Wamba had spared the lives of, at least, some of the convicts, as Chindaswinth probably had done several years before. In sum, it seems as though kings prior to Ervig were reluctant to carry out the death penalty laid down by the law against political opponents. The nature of the evidence makes it impossible to reconstruct the Visigothic judicial practice regarding contumacious Jews. Yet, it does seem strange that, if spectacular capital punishments inflicted on Jews by their own people through burning or stoning actually did take place in the Iberian seventh century, no source should mention them. Anyway, it will be wise in their bodies and properties with temporal punishment according to this sentence of the law those whom the fathers had already damned in spirit with the eternal condemnation of such a terrible judgement.’, transl. by Martínez Pizarro, p. 239). 55 […] ut idem perfidus Paulus cum iam dictis sociis suis morte turpissima condemnati interirent, qualiter casum perpetuae perditionis uidentur excipere, qui et euersionem meditati sunt patriae et principis interitum conati sunt eximere. Quodsi forsam eis a principe condonata fuerit uita, non aliter quam euulsis luminibus reseruentur, ut uiuant. Res tamen omnes eiusdem Pauli sociorumque eius in potestate gloriosi nostri domni persistendas esse decernimus, qualiter, quicquid de his agere uel iudicare elegerit serenitatis suae clementia, potestas illi indubitata permaneat, ut seditiosorum nomen funditus a terra dispereat et lugubrem eorum memoriam his titulis denotatam sequutura saecula imitari refugiant (Ibid., p. 535: ‘[…] that this same traitor Paul with his aforementioned associates should be condemned to a most shameful death, in the same way that those who have planned the overthrow of their country and the murder of their ruler are known to be sentenced to eternal damnation. And if by any chance their lives were to be granted to them by the king, they should not be allowed to live except with their eyes gouged out. We decreed also that all the possessions of Paul and his associates should remain in the power of our glorious lord, so that his royal clemency may have undisputed authority to command or to do with them whatever it may choose, and so that the name of these plotters may disappear entirely from the earth and future centuries may shrink from imitating their wretched example, which bears such titles of honor.’, transl. by Martínez Pizarro, p. 239). 56 De reddito testimonio dignitatis eorum quos profanatio infidelitatis cum Paulo traxit in societatem tyrannidis (Conc. Tol. XIII, c. 1, in Colección Canónica Hispana, vol. VI, pp. 228-230). As indicated in Martin, ‘Hiérarchie et service’, pp. 338-339, the abrogation of Wamba’s military law was only a first step in Ervig’s dismantling of Wamba’s repression of the opposite aristocratic faction: the work was completed by the Thirteenth Council of Toledo.

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to reserve judgement on that matter and stick to the political field, where, obviously, the practice previous to Ervig’s reform was milder than the letter of the law. It appears therefore that his reform might have been no more than fine-tuning to align legislation with previous practice, as was probably the case when, on a completely different matter, King Leovigild had removed the ban on intermarriage between Goths and Romans.57 Thus, alongside the reasons for Ervig’s reform stands an additional and related issue: why was the standard practice in punishing political offences milder than the punishment stipulated by law?

The meaning of the reform First, I would like to address a common argument about Christian influence bringing about a gradual humanization of the Late Antique and Byzantine penal system.58 Indeed, the Ervigian reform is remarkably similar to the reform carried out by the Isaurian emperors some years later. As we know, on a number of occasions the Ecloga, issued in 741, replaced the death penalty by various kinds of mutilations and corporal punishment.59 In a similar way to the Visigothic developments just discussed, those changes in the nature of punishments were not actually new: Patlagean has identified a common trend in imperial judicial practice going back to the fourth and especially the sixth century whereby, instead of culprits being killed, pain was inflicted on some part of their body or else they were merely fined.60 Still, even without rejecting it entirely, scholarship has been reluctant for some years now to admit Christianization as the main cause of legal change in Late Antiquity and Byzantium.61 In our case, the idea of a Christian influence seems to be supported by the primary justification Ervig gave for abolishing the death penalty previously faced by all Jewish offenders (LV XII, 2, 11): ‘God does not desire death’.62 He also adduced that death prevents any possible rank-ordering of punishment depending on the seriousness of the offence and supported his argument with a biblical quote (Deut. 25: 2). His 57 LV III, 1, 1. 58 For an exposition of the standard view, see Schulz, Principles of Roman Law, ch. 10, pp. 189-222. 59 See Humphreys, Law, Power, and Imperial Ideology, pp. 122-125. 60 Patlagean, ‘Byzance et le blason pénal du corps’. 61 See, for instance, Garnsey, ‘Why Penalties Become Harsher’, pp. 154-156; Arjava, Women and Roman Law, pp. 230-245; Beaucamp, ‘La christianisation du droit’; Harries, Law and Empire, pp. 139-152. 62 LV XII, 3, 1. See above, n. 44.

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subsequent speciales leges (special laws) on Jews strive indeed to establish a kind of scale of penalties, although in the table below I have selected those that decree exile only.63 Let us just mention the introduction of castration (for men) or nose cutting (for women) for the charge of circumcision, which Sisebut had decreed to be punishable by death.64 The mere idea of such a scale, and the justification taken from Deuteronomy are not unrelated to tariffed penance, as opposed to the canonical penance. Admittedly, although there is evidence for early insular influences in the Iberian Peninsula in this matter,65 all the indications are that they did not take root in Visigothic times.66 Yet, the strict opposition between ‘public’ and ‘private’ penance appears somewhat outdated nowadays, and the side-lining of what was once a ‘Grand Narrative’ of the ecclesiastical treatment of sin in the Early Middle Ages should leave scope for thinking that the application of Visigothic penance was not so rigid as is currently believed.67 It remains perfectly possible that the idea of proportionality within retribution somehow developed in seventh-century Iberia; to label such a change in thinking ‘Christian’ would be an oversimplification. However, Christian influence is actually noticeable when scrutinizing the functions of Visigothic penal law. As was made plain by Jill Harries, the two traditional values of penal law inherited from the Early Empire were retribution and deterrence, whereas Christian thinkers urged the legislator to leave scope for reforming the culprit.68 This is enough to account for the discrepancy between the letter of the law and the actual fate of those sentenced to capital punishment in the seventh century: whereas the law sentenced them to death, thus fulfilling its deterrent function (for deterrence is achieved through terror),69 judicial practice and potential amnesty by the king allowed for punishment to be reversed. 63 See table below, laws no 15. 64 Ervig’s law: LV XII, 3, 4; previous law by Sisebut: LV XII, 2, 14. 65 Conc. Tol. III, c. 11 condemned existing practices of tariffed penance as early as 589. 66 Martínez Díez, ‘Algunos aspectos de la penitencia’. 67 De Jong, ‘Transformations of Penance’. 68 Harries, Law and Empire, pp. 136 ss. 69 Ibid., pp. 144-145. According to Isidore, within Christian society (intra ecclesiam), secular power and ecclesiastical power should pursue the same goals, the latter, through the use of the Word (sermo), the former, through terror: Principes saeculi nonnumquam intra ecclesiam potestatis adeptae culmina tenent, ut per eandem potestatem disciplinam ecclesiasticam muniant. Ceterum intra ecclesiam potestates necessariae non essent, nisi ut, quod non praeualet sacerdos efficere per doctrinae sermonem, potestas hoc imperet per disciplinae terrorem. (Isidore of Seville, Sentences, III, 51-4: ‘Secular rulers sometimes retain within the Church the heights of the power they have received so that they might defend ecclesiastical discipline through their power. Otherwise

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The reversibility of punishment is a key notion, and it does not have the same implications in both the political and religious fields. Firstly, it should be pointed out that exile was always reversible, even if considered a capital penalty and labelled ‘perpetual’. Although Roman deportatio was meant to be perpetual, this form of exile was always subject to a possible uenia or indulgentia (pardon) from the emperor. The pardoned criminal could then recover his place of living, his ius ciuitatis (citizenship), his capacity to make a testament, his dignitas or rank, and at least a part of his belongings: the emperor’s will overcome the force of the res iudicata.70 Visigothic kings retained the same power to pardon criminals whatever the sentence they served, and with a possible retroactive effect. Such a future political amnesty by some successor was what King Chindaswinth sought to avoid. He thought he could secure the immutability of the punishments he had inflicted on his opponents by extorting an oath to that effect from all of the bishops and nobility; yet his son Recceswinth requested and obtained from the Eighth General Council of Toledo a breach of this oath as soon as the old king died, in December 653, making him free to administer to all exiles ‘the remedy of pardon’ (ueniae remedium).71 Admittedly, Recceswinth did not repeal his father’s corresponding law, That princes should reserve piety to be merciful, but promulgated it the following year in the Liber Iudiciorum: from then on, the king would not be able to concede his uenia to political convicts without the consent of all bishops and grandees (cum adsensu sacerdotum maiorumque palatii).72 The law recalled that the king may pardon any other kind of offender without asking for an agreement (which accounts for the title), but what was really new here was the limitation of his display of pietas towards political convicts. The ambiguity of Recceswinth’s position, maintaining his father’s legacy while rejecting it, illustrates the pragmatic function of reversing sentences in the political field. Visigothic successions were sometimes violent; kings allied with certain aristocratic factions and confronted others; but in the end, aristocratic elites proved to be more stable than the alliances themselves, and to kill an adversary was to deprive oneself of a potential ally for the future. Ervig actually applied Chindaswinth’s law on pardon when in 683 he strove to annul Wamba’s political sentences through the Council of Toledo: the powerful would not be necessary within the Church, except so that they might command through the terror of discipline what the bishop is not able to accomplish through his words of teaching’, transl. Knoebel, p. 203, amended). 70 See Rivière, ‘L’interdictio aquae et igni’, p. 110. 71 We know about this oath through the tomus handed over by Recceswinth to the assembly (Conc. Tol. VIII, Tomus regius, in Colección Canónica Hispana, vol. V, p. 375). 72 LV, VI, 1, 6-7 (De seruanda principibus pietate parcendi).

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the General Council, as a gathering of all the bishops and the lay seniores palatii selected by the king, was the usual expression of consensus in the Visigothic kingdom.73 Yet, Ervig had previously issued his own law on pardon, admittedly limited to the religious field: That princes should retain the power to pity those who truly converted to Christ’s faith,74 a title that closely followed the title of Chindaswinth’s law and was fully compatible with it, since, as seen above, it admitted uenia for all non-political charges. Ervig declared the king could grant his uenia to the Jews in the event of their genuinely proven conversion and that the king alone would be entitled to recall them from exile and return their belongings to them. To sum up, the new legal framework implemented by Ervig put the Jews on the same footing as other religious offenders, namely heretics, insofar as pagans had not been the subject of civil legislation since the Breviary of Alaric.75 Here, the most economical interpretation seems to be that the authorities now really expected a possible conversion of the Jews, both baptized and not baptized,76 just as they always had expected a possible conversion of heretics. That was what reversibility stood for in the religious field: saving souls by avoiding killing impenitent sinners.77 Putting Jews on a par with heretics in this way is noticeable in Book XII of the Liber Iudiciorum, which was imposed on them all through leges generales and speciales. ‘General laws’, like Ervig’s LV XII, 3, 1 applied to heretics in a broad sense, meaning to all non-orthodox persons;78 ‘special laws’ applied either to heretics in a narrow sense (e.g. LV XII, 3, 2), or to the Jews (the rest 73 On the significance of conciliar consensus and the conflicts it could nevertheless conceal, see Stocking, Bishops, Councils and Consensus; on the selection of lay nobles for the conciliar assembly, Martin, ‘Hiérarchie et service’, pp. 333-335. 74 LV XII, 3, 27 (De reseruata principibus miserendi potestate in his, qui conuersi ad fidem Christi ueraciter fuerint). 75 That is, if considering paganism separately from maleficium and divination. The latter two were traditionally prosecuted by Roman law even before Christian emperors, and their jurisdiction was shared, in Visigothic times, by royal and canonical legislation; idolatry, by contrast, came under the exclusive jurisdiction of the councils. See Martin, ‘De sacrilegiis extirpandis’, esp. pp. 291-292. 76 Insofar as Ervig decreed a new forced baptism on Jews (LV XII, 3, 3, no13 on the table below) under penalty of exile, his legislation applied to all Visigothic Jews, baptized and not baptized alike. 77 As an illustration, Ervig provided for an addition to another law, consisting in avoiding the death penalty for adulterers: saluas tamen animas, que ad lamenta penitentie pietatis indulgentia reseruamus (‘provided their souls will be safe, since, moved by a pious leniency, we reserve them for the laments of penance’ (LV, III, 4, 13, ed. by Zeumer, p. 154). 78 Such a broad use of the term ‘heretic’ for ‘non-orthodox’ is evidenced as well in the Codex Justinianus. See Mathisen, ‘The Citizenship and Legal Status’.

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of his new libellus). I have even argued that, through conflation of the two meanings of ‘heretics’ in seventh-century Iberia, Jews may have come to be considered a variety of flawed Christians.79 This change of mindset may be related to the modification of anti-Jewish legislation from 681 onwards: the nuanced Isidorian doctrine about the responsibility of the Jews for being faithless gave then way to the assumption that their unbelief was due to their exclusion from grace, which means, willed by God80; and God could have mercy on them someday. Like any other heretics, Jews were not to be put to death for their religious dissidence for some centuries, reflecting a wider absence of the use of death penalty on religious grounds in the West.81 To conclude, Ervig’s reform led to an adjustment of theory (the law) and practice (judicial sentences and royal amnesty of convicts), at least for political crime, possibly for religious offences as well, although the latter cannot be established from the extant evidence. It certainly removed from the law a considerable part of its deterrent function; however, it increased the law’s credibility (from then on, the judge would stick more closely to its letter) and contributed to the depiction of the Visigothic king as a Christian one, clemens and pius (lenient and dutifully respectful), and not just fearsome.

A merging of exile and enslavement? The final years of the seventh century may have witnessed a further development in Visigothic penal policy: some elements hint that exile was merging with enslavement. The two penalties were once clearly separate, since deportatio removed ciuitas from the culprit, that is, all his civil rights, but not his libertas (freedom), which was lost only if he was made a slave. We saw above that Ervig’s law on political crime suggested such confusion: the offender, ‘changed into a king’s slave and brought under his power by the chain of a perpetual servitude’ was meant to suffer ‘an eternal relegation into exile.’82 Was he meant to suffer exile, or servitude, or both at once? Or had the two penalties converged? The latter option seems odd, inasmuch as only ten years before, Wamba’s military law did draw a clear distinction 79 See Martin, ‘Les juifs visigothiques’, esp. pp. 330-331. 80 The key Isidorian text on this matter is Conc. Tol. IV, c. 57 (Colección Canónica Hispana, vol. V, pp. 235-236). See Nemo-Pekelman, ‘Divine Justice and Freedom’. 81 As François Bougard recently remarked, the burning of the Orléans heretics in 1022 was the first death penalty imposed on heretics since Priscillian in 385 (Bougard, ‘Le feu de la justice’, p. 432). 82 LV II, 1, 8, Ervig’s version (ed. by Zeumer, p. 55): see above, n. 38.

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between them, according to the ordo of the person accused of not resisting an enemy attack. Bishops, priests, and deacons were to be exiled unless they could answer from their own goods for the resulting damage, whereas the lay and minor clerics would be enslaved and their belongings transferred to the fisc or to the victims.83 Fortunately, we have one literary record, albeit quite a thorny one, of the application of Ervig’s new legal treatment for political offenses. It can be found in the anonymous Chronicle of 754, in a passage relating to King Wittiza (694-702).84 Although the passage is notoriously abstruse, I venture the following translation. Egica and his son Wittiza, whom he had made his heir and associated on the throne, retain the Kingdom of the Goths. The latter, succeeding to his father although insolently [petulanter], but also most leniently, reigns for fifteen years. And not only does he recall to his mercy those, maintained in exile, who had been condemned by his father, but he also remains helpful [clientulus manet]85 in their restoration. Indeed, those who had been oppressed by [Egica] under a rigorous yoke he made recover their earlier delight, and those whom the former had deprived of their own residence he compensated through a pious gift. Lastly, having congregated all of them, he publicly burns in a well-deserved fire the acknowledgments of debt [cautiones] his father had deceitfully extorted from them, and not only does he clear them, if you will, from an indissoluble bond, but also, having returned their property to them [rebus propriis redditis], he restores them to the palatine office; even those who had been enslaved to the fisc long ago [et olim iam fisco mancipatis].86 83 LV IX, 2, 8, ed. by Zeumer, pp. 371-372: see table below, law no 7. 84 On the dates of Wittiza’s rule see Collins, Visigothic Spain, p. 108. 85 This expression has puzzled the successive editors of the text, who strove to understand clientulus in an institutional sense, e.g. ‘vassal’. López Pereira chose to consider the sentence to implicitly enclose a change of the grammatical subject, from Wittiza (the ‘patron’, who could not decently be a ‘vassal’) to the pardoned aristocrats (Chronicle of 754, ed. by López Pereira, p. 217, n. 4). In contrast, Gil correctly identified here a new acceptation of the word clientulus, proposing ‘kind’, ‘thoughtful’ (ed. by Gil, p. 491, n. 391). A search through sources of the eighth and ninth centuries (Cixila, Vita sancti Hildefonsi, 1; Stephen II, Epistolae, VIII, 88 and IX, 96; Eulogius of Córdoba, Liber apologeticus martyrum, 9) effectively suggests the meanings of ‘servant’ (including a rhetorical one) or ‘disciple’; in other words, anyone prepared to help; hence ‘helpful, obliging’. 86 Egica in consortio regni Uuittizanem filium sibi heredem faciens Gothorum regnum retemtant. Hic patris succedens in solio quamquam petulanter, clementissimus tamen, quindecim per annos extat in regno. Qui non solum eos quos pater damnauerat ad gratiam recipit temtos exilio, uerum etiam clientulus manet in restaurando. Nam quos ille graui oppresserat iugo, pristino iste reducebat

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Contrary to the usual translation, my proposal separates the ablative absolute rebus propriis redditis from mancipatis, a keyword that I consider to be a dative and to refer to the same object as quos and innoxios, that is, to the beneficiaries of Wittiza’s mercy. Thus, relating to persons and not to belongings, it must mean enslavement. Besides, fisco is usually considered an ablative of agent without an ab. It is much more logical for it to be a dative here, as the recipient of the enslaved culprits.87 If we are to rely on this translation, the political convicts of Egica’s reign had suffered exile and confiscation of their belongings, and had been enslaved to the royal fisc. Ultimately, this excerpt points to a simultaneous application of exile and enslavement to those sentenced for political crime under Ervig’s law. Without going into details, one may remember that the last penalty imposed on all Hispanic Jews, in 694, was also internal exile with enslavement, an apparently unprecedented punishment depriving them of all their civic rights and of their freedom.88 It was decreed by the Seventeenth Council of Toledo, not under civil law;89 but it may be no accident that, in the final years of the seventh century, we again come across a combined application of exile and enslavement. This is not to say that the two penalties had necessarily merged; but at the end of the Visigothic realm they were certainly closely matched. To inquire into the reasons for such a recurring combination would involve addressing the related issues of control and confinement; and that, as stated at the outset, will have to be another study. In closing, it can be assumed that Ervig’s reform was meant more to impress itself on minds than to radically transform the Visigothic penal system in practice. From then on, the common punishment prescribed by law for political treason and religious offences was harsh exile, which was probably very close to Roman deportatio. Although it relied on the common notion of the reversibility of punishment, it presumably retained a very different meaning in the political and religious spheres: not to kill aristocratic opponents was a matter of political prudence, whereas not to kill contumacious Jews was one of faith in God’s mercy. Lastly, there are in gaudio et quos ille a proprio abdicaberat solo, iste pio reformans reparabat ex dono. Sicque conuocatis cunctis postremo cautiones, quas pater more subtraxerat subdolo, iste in conspectu omnium digne cremat incendio et non solum quia innoxios reddet, si uellet, ab insoluuili uinculo, uerum etiam rebus propriis redditis et olim iam fisco mancipatis palatino restaurat officio (Chronicle of 754, ed. by López Pereira, 44). 87 I am very grateful to José Carlos Martín for his help in unravelling the construction of the last sentence. For what it is worth, the final interpretation is mine. 88 See Martin and Nemo, ‘Les juifs et la cité’, esp. pp. 241-245. 89 Conc. Tol. XVII, ed. in Patrologia Latina 84, col. 51.

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some hints that, by the end of the seventh century, exile was becoming increasingly similar to enslavement, or at least was often associated with it. It seems as though a new capital punishment, forced displacement with loss of all civic rights and submission to the fisc or to a private master, was coming to replace the death penalty. The penalty of exile in the laws of the Liber Iudiciorum Law (reference and date90)

Offence

1. LV III, 5, 5 (643-649) 2. LV III, 5, 7 (after 693)

incest with a former partner deprivation of all property, passed on of one’s father or brother to heirs, perpetual exile with penance sodomy in compliance with Conc. Tol. XVI, c. 3 (693): 1) superior clerics: perpetual exile and destitution 2) inferior clerics and laymen: castration, deportation with decalvatio, excommunication, and flogging killing one’s own slave perpetual exile with penance, deprivation of all property, passed on to heirs Parricide 1) death 2) or, in case of asylum in a church: perpetual exile and deprivation of all property, passed on to the victim’s heirs relegation, deprivation of all honours (penalty clause) attempt and offices, and of half of property to ever amend this law on royal property

3. LV VI, 5, 12 (643-649) 4. LV VI, 5, 18 (antiqua = before 589) 5. LV II, 1, 6 (653)

6. LV II, 1, 8 (642/3: Chindaswinth) .….. (681: Ervig) ……………….. 7. LV IX, 2, 8 (673)

8. LV IX, 2, 9 (681)

Penalty

betrayal and sedition

………death or blinding

failure to join the army in the event of attack from abroad

………deportation with decalvatio and flogging, and/or servitude (unclear) 1) superior clerics: deportation if not able to make for the damages 2) inferior clerics and laymen: servitude

failure to join the army in the event of internal sedition failure to join the army for a military campaign

(all) exile and confiscation of all property 1) powerful laymen: exile and confiscation of all property 2) inferiores: flogging, decalvatio, and fine of 1 gold pound; if insolvent, servitude

90 Since most laws are undated, the date given is sometimes approximate. I have done my best to review the whole Liber, but some references may be missing.

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Offence

Penalty

9. LV XII, 2, 2 (654: Recceswinth)

heresy

perpetual exile (banishment?), deprivation of all honours and property (and, if cleric, destitution) exile (now deportation? with penance) will be inflicted only after failure of an instruction by a priest or bishop

10. LV XII, 3, 1 (681: heresy Ervig)

heretic preaching

11. LV XII, 2, 14 (612) 12. LV XII, 3, 2 (681) 13. LV XII, 3, 3 (681) 14. LV XII, 2, 11 (654: Recceswinth) 15. LV XII, 3, 3-5; XII, 3, 11; XII, 3, 13 (681: Ervig)

marriage between a non-converted Jew and a Christian blasphemy against the Trinity resistance to the forced baptism of Jews religious crimes by ‘converted’ Jews

exile (now deportation? with penance) may be reverted in the event of conversion perpetual exile of both spouses

deportation with flogging and decalvatio, confiscation of all property deportation with flogging and decalvatio, confiscation of all property death by stoning or cremation, or servitude without possible mercy deportation with flogging and decalvatio, confiscation of all property

Abbreviations CCCM CCSL CISAM CSIC Dig

Corpus Christianorum – Continuatio Mediaevalis Corpus Christianorum – Series Latina Centro Italiano di Studi sull’Alto Medioevo Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas Digesta (in Corpus Iuris Civilis, vol. 1, ed. by Theodor Mommsen, Berlin: Weidmann, 1872) EFR École Française de Rome HAMA Haut Moyen Âge MGH LL Nat. Germ Monumenta Germaniae Historica – Leges Nationum Germanicarum MGH SRM Monumenta Germaniae Historica – Scriptores Rerum Merovingicarum PL Patrologia Latina Sett. Sp. Settimane di studio del Centro Italiano di Studi sull’Alto Medioevo

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Works cited Arjava, Antti, Women and Law in Late Antiquity (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996). Arjava, Antti, ‘The Survival of Roman Family Law after the Barbarian Settlements’, in Law, Society, and Authority in Late Antiquity, ed. by Ralph Mathisen (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), pp. 33-51. Beaucamp, Joëlle, ‘La christianisation du droit à Byzance: l’exemple du statut des femmes’, in Cristianità d’Occidente e Christianità d’Oriente (secoli VI-XI) = Sett. Sp. 51 (Spoleto: CISAM, 2004), pp. 917-955. Bougard, François, ‘Le feu de la justice et le feu de l’épreuve, IV-XIIe siècle’, in Il fuoco nell’alto Medioevo = Sett. Sp. 60 (Spoleto: CISAM, 2013), pp. 389-432. Bulgar, Epistolae, ed. by Juan Gil, Miscellanea Wisigothica (Seville: Universidad de Sevilla, 1972), pp. 37-40. Callu, Jean-Pierre, ‘Le jardin des supplices au Bas-Empire’, in Du châtiment dans la cité. Supplices corporels et peine de mort dans le monde antique (Rome: EFR, 1984), pp. 313-359. Carbasse, Jean-Marie, ‘Le droit pénal romain’, in Histoire du droit pénal et de la justice criminelle (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 2006), pp.33-82. Chronicle of 754, ed. by J. Eduardo López Pereira, Continuatio Isidoriana Hispana. Crónica mozárabe de 754 (León: Caja España de Inversiones y Archivo Histórico Diocesano de León, 2009). Chronicle of 754, ed. by Juan Gil, Chronica Hispana saeculi VIII et IX = CCCM 65 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2018), pp. 325-382. Chronicle of Alfonso III, ed. by Juan Gil, Chronica Hispana saeculi VIII et IX = CCCM 65 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2018), pp. 383-433. Chronicle of Fredegar, ed. by Bruno Krusch in MGH SRM 2 (Hannover: xx, 1888), pp. 1-193. Chronicle of Fredegar, trans. by John M. Wallace-Hadrill, The Fourth Book of the Chronicle of Fredegar: With Its Continuations (London: Nelson, 1960). Collins, Roger, Visigothic Spain. 409-711 (Oxford: Blackwell, 2004). Council XVII of Toledo, ed. by Jacques Paul Migne, PL 84 (Paris: Garnier, 1850), col. 551-562. Crouch, Jace, ‘The Judicial Punishment of Decalvatio in the Visigothic Realm: A Proposed Solution Based on Isidore of Seville and the Lex Visigothorum’, The Mediterranean Review, 3:1 (2010), pp. 59-77. De Jong, Mayke, ‘The Transformations of Penance’, in Rituals of Power. From Late Antiquity to the Early Middle Ages, ed. by Frans Theuws and Janet Nelson (Leiden: Brill, 2000), pp. 185-224. Delmaire, Roland, ‘Exil, relégation, déportation dans la législation du Bas-Empire’, in Exil et relégation : Les tribulations du sage et du saint durant l’Antiquité romaine et chrétienne (Ier-VIe siècle après J-C), ed. by Philippe Blaudeau (Paris: De Boccard, 2008), pp. 115-132.

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Díaz, Pablo C., ‘Las cárceles en la Hispania visigoda’, in Castigo y reclusión en el mundo antiguo, ed. by Sofía Torallas Tovar and Inmaculada Pérez Martín (Madrid: CSIC, 2003), pp. 193-207. Dumézil, Bruno, ‘La peine de décalvation dans l’Espagne wisigothique’, in Anthropologie, mythologies et histoire de la chevelure et de la pilosité. Le Sens du Poil, ed. by Bertrand Lançon, Marie-Hélène Delavaud-Roux (Paris: L’Harmattan, 2011), pp. 135-147. Edictus Rothari, ed. by F. Bluhme in Leges Langobardorum, MGH Leges 4 (Hannover, 1868), pp. 3-90. Escribano Paño, María Victoria, ‘El exilio del herético en el s. IV d.C. Fundamentos jurídicos e ideológicos’, in Vivir en tierra extraña: Emigración e integración cultural en el mundo antiguo. Actas de la reunión realizada en Zaragoza los días 2 y 3 de junio de 2003, ed. by Francisco Marco Simón, Francisco Pina Polo and José Remesal Rodríguez (Barcelona: Universitat de Barcelona, 2004), pp. 255-272. Garnsey, Peter, ‘Why Penalties Become Harsher: the Roman Case, Late Republic to Fourth Century Empire’, Natural Law Forum/American Journal of Jurisprudence, 13 (1968), pp. 141-162. González Salinero, Raúl, Las conversiones forzosas de los judíos en el reino visigodo (Rome: CSIC, 2000). Grodzynski, Denise, ‘Tortures mortelles et catégories sociales. Les summa supplicia dans le droit romain aux IIIe et IVe siècle’, in Du châtiment dans la cité. Supplices corporels et peine de mort dans le monde antique (Rome: EFR, 1984), pp. 361-403. Harries, Jill, Law and Empire in Late Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009). Hillner, Julia, Prison, Punishment and Penance in Late Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015). Humphreys, Michael, Law, Power, and Imperial Ideology in the Iconoclast Era, c. 680-850 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015). Isidore of Seville, De Viris Illustribus, ed. by Carmen Codoñer (Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca, 1964). Isidore of Seville, Historia Gothorum, ed. by Cristóbal Rodríguez Alonso (León: Archivo Histórico Diocesano de León, 1975). Isidore of Seville, Sentences, ed. by Pierre Cazier, Isidorus Hispalensis Sententiae = CCSL 111 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1998). Isidore of Seville, Sentences, trans. by Thomas L. Knoebel, Isidore of Seville Sententiae (New York: Newman Press, 2018). Iudicium in tyrannorum perfidiam promulgatum, ed. by Wilhelm Levison in MGH SRM 5 (Hannover-Leipzig, 1910) pp. 529-535. Iudicium in tyrannorum perfidiam promulgatum, trans. by Joaquín Martínez Pizarro, The Story of Wamba (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2005).

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John of Biclaro, Chronicle, ed. by Carmen Cardelle de Hartmann, Victoris Tunnunensis Chronicon cum reliquiis ex consularibus caesaraugustanis et Iohannis Biclarensis Chronicon = CCSL 173-A (Turnhout: Brepols, 2001). King, Paul D., Law and Society in the Wisigothic Kingdom (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1972). Lex Baiwariorum, ed by Ernst von Schwind, MGH LL Nat. Germ. 5-2 (Hannover, 1926). Liber Iudiciorum, ed. by Karl Zeumer, Liber Iudiciorum siue Lex Visigothorum, MGH LL Nat. Germ. 1-1 (Hannover-Leipzig: Hahn, 1902), pp. 33-456. Marey, Alexander, ‘Уголовное и гражданское право в Вестготской правде (Книге приговоров)’ [Criminal and civil law in the Lex Visigothorum (Liber Iudiciorum)], in Lex Visigothorum (Liber Iudiciorum). Textum latinum. Interpretatio rossica. Studia. Вестготская Правда (Книга Приговоров). Латинский текст. Перевод. Исследование, ed. by Oleg V. Aurov, Alexander V. Marey (Moscow: Русский Фонд Содействия Образованию и Науке (Исторические источники), 2012), pp. 134-151. Martin, Céline, ‘Hiérarchie et service dans le monde visigothique : la militia des laïcs’, in Hiérarchie et stratification sociale dans l’Occident médiéval (400-1100) = HAMA 6, ed. by Dominique Iogna-Prat, François Bougard and Régine Le Jan (Turnhout: Brepols, 2009), pp. 325-341. Martin, Céline, ‘L’évêque dans un petit navire. Bannissement et relégation dans les Vies des Saints Pères de Mérida’, in Échanges, communications et réseaux dans le haut Moyen Âge. Études et textes offerts à Stéphane Lebecq = HAMA 14, ed. by Alban Gautier and Céline Martin (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011), pp. 45-56. Martin, Céline, ‘De sacrilegiis extirpandis. Interpretar la legislación contra el paganismo en la Hispania de los siglos VI-VII’, in La Iglesia como sistema de dominación en la Antigüedad Tardía, ed. by José Fernández Ubiña, Alberto J. Quiroga Puertas and Purificación Ubric Rabaneda (Granada: Universidad de Granada, 2015), pp. 273-292. Martin, Céline, ‘Les juifs visigothiques, un peuple hérétique’, in Les juifs et la nation au Moyen Âge, special issue of Revue de l’histoire des religions, 234-2 (2017), pp. 315-335. Martin, Céline, ‘Exclure le pair et l’intrus : exil et conf iscation en Hispanie visigothique’, in La richesse, la pauvreté et l’exclusion – de la christianisation à la chrétienté en Occident (IVe-XIIe siècle), ed. by Sylvie Joye and Régine Le Jan (Turnhout: Brepols, forthcoming). Martin, Céline and Nemo, Capucine, ‘Les juifs et la cité. Pour une clarification du statut personnel des juifs de l’Antiquité tardive à la fin du royaume de Tolède (IVe-VIIe siècles)’, Antiquité tardive, 16 (2008), pp. 223-246. Martínez Díez (Gonzalo), ‘Algunos aspectos de la penitencia en la Iglesia visigodomozarábica’, La patrología toledano-visigoda. XXVII Semana Española de Teología. Toledo, 25-29 sept. 1967 (Madrid: CSIC, 1970), pp. 121-134.

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Martínez Díez, Gonzalo and Felix Rodríguez, eds, Colección Canónica Hispana, 6 vols (Madrid: CSIC, 1966-2002). Mathisen, Ralph, ‘The Citizenship and Legal Status of Jews in Roman Law during Late Antiquity (ca. 300-540 CE)’, in Jews in Early Christian Law. Byzantium and the Latin West, 6th-11th centuries, ed. by John V. Tolan, Nicholas de Lange, Laurence Foschia, and Capucine Nemo (Turnhout: Brepols, 2014), pp. 35-53. Mommsen, Theodor, Römisches Strafrecht (Leipzig: Duncker & Humblot, 1899). Nemo-Pekelman, Capucine, ‘Divine Justice and Freedom: On Canon 57 of the Fourth Council of Toledo (633)’, Visigothic Symposium 1 (2016-2017), Law and Theology, pp. 150-168, https://visigothicsymposia.org/capucine-nemo-pekelman/ (Accessed on 14 August 2019). Patlagean, Évelyne, ‘Byzance et le blason pénal du corps’, in Du châtiment dans la cité. Supplices corporels et peine de mort dans le monde antique (Rome: EFR, 1984), pp. 405-427. Pavón Torrejón, Pilar, La cárcel y el encarcelamiento en el mundo romano (Madrid: CSIC, 2003). Petit, Carlos, ‘Crimen y castigo en el reino visigodo de Toledo’, in Recueils de la société Jean Bodin: La peine, 56-2 (Bruxelles: De Boeck Université, 1991), pp. 9-71. Petit, Carlos, ‘“Iustitia” y “Iudicium” en el reino de Toledo. Un estudio de teología jurídica visigoda’, in La giustizia nell’alto medioevo (sec. V-VIII) = Sett. Sp. 42 (Spoleto: CISAM, 1995), pp. 843-932. Petit, Carlos, ‘Rex Iudex. El momento judicial del rey de Toledo’, in Procesos, inquisiciones, pruebas: Homenaje a Mario Sbriccoli, ed. by Emanuele Conte and Marta Madero (Buenos Aires: Manantial, 2009), pp. 39-75. Prego de Lis, Augusto, ‘La pena de exilio en la legislación hispanogoda’, Antigüedad y Cristianismo, 23 (2006), pp. 515-529. Rivière, Yann, Le Cachot et les fers : détention et coercition à Rome (Paris: Belin, 2004). Rivière, Yann, ‘L’interdictio aquae et igni et la deportatio sous le Haut-Empire romain’, in Exil et relégation : Les tribulations du sage et du saint durant l’Antiquité romaine et chrétienne (Ier-VIe siècle après J-C), ed. by Philippe Blaudeau (Paris: De Boccard, 2008), pp. 47-114. Schulz, Fritz, Principles of Roman Law (Oxford: Clarendon, 1936). Stocking, Rachel, Bishops, Councils and Consensus in the Visigothic Kingdom, 589-633 (Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press, 2000). Tomás Faci, Guillermo, and Martín Iglesias, José Carlos, ‘Cuatro documentos inéditos del monasterio visigodo de San Martín de Asán (522-586)’, Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch, 52 (2017), pp. 261-286. Vallejo Girvés, Margarita, ‘In insulam deportatio en el siglo IV d. C. Aproximación a su comprensión a través de causas, personas y lugares’, Polis, 3 (1991), pp. 153-167.

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Vallejo Girvés, Margarita, ‘Los exilios de católicos y arrianos bajo Leovigildo y Recaredo’, Hispania Sacra, 55 (2003), pp. 35-48. Zeumer, Karl, ‘Geschichte der westgothischen Gesetzgebung II’, Neues Archiv der Gesellschaft für ältere deutsche Geschichtskunde, 24 (1899), pp. 39-122.

About the author Céline Martin is Senior Lecturer in Medieval History at the University of Bordeaux-Montaigne (France) and a member of Ausonius (UMR 5607, CNRS). She holds a PhD in Medieval History (2000) from the EHESS (Paris) and is a former student of the ENS Fontenay Saint-Cloud. Prior to arriving at Bordeaux, she was Senior Lecturer at Lille-3 (2001-2007). As a specialist in sixth/seventh-century Spain, her research deals mostly with political theory and practice, and particularly focuses on the normative corpus of Visigothic leges and concilia. She publishes in French and Spanish and has been collaborating in several international projects.

7.

‘Put All Your Trust in Ansemundus’: A Look at Distrust in VisigothicByzantine Diplomatic Relations Margarita Vallejo

Abstract The phrase in the title comes from a letter sent by the Visigoth king Sisebut to the Byzantine Patrician Cesarius on the occasion of the exchange of emissaries in order to achieve a peace treaty. It is the first time we have directly documented diplomatic contacts between Visigoths and Byzantines in the 70 years of the Byzantine presence in the Iberian Peninsula; the fact remains that the letter reveals initial mutual mistrust. Previous documents concerning pacts between Visigoths and Byzantines provide the same perception. This contribution examines the relations and diplomatic correspondence between Sisebut and Cesarius and the possible covenants made by them, bearing in mind those previously signed between Visigoths and Byzantines. Keywords: Early Medieval Diplomacy, Visigothic Kingdom, Byzantine Empire, Iberian Peninsula

The collection of manuscripts known as the Epistulae Wisigothicae informs us about the content of part of the epistles exchanged by the Byzantine Patricius Caesarius, probably Governor of Byzantine Hispania, c. 612-617, and King Sisebut, on the occasion of the negotiations concerning a peace agreement between both realms, the Visigothic Kingdom and the Byzantine Empire, ruled at that time by Emperor Heraclius.1 Three Byzantine epistles 1 Bibliographical references prior to 2012 concerning the conflicts between Visigoths and Byzantines are collected in Vallejo Girvés, Hispania y Bizancio. We will refer to this book and

Dell’ Elicine, E. and C. Martin (eds), Framing Power in Visigothic Society. Discourses, Devices, and Artefacts. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2020 doi 10.5117/9789463725903_ch07

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are preserved, written by Caesarius, and a Visigothic one by Sisebut; yet their text reveals that the latter could still have sent one more to the former.2 The quote heading the present study is extracted from the only epistle we preserve sent by King Sisebut to the Patricius Caesarius.3 In it, the Visigoth agreed to start negotiations in order to sign a peace treaty between both powers; this corroborates a situation already suggested by other sources: by that time, they were militarily confronted. 4 A peace agreement seems to have been repeatedly requested by the Emperor, according to the first epistle sent by Caesarius to Sisebut. As can be deduced from its content and from the previously mentioned epistle by the Visigothic King, Sisebut was the one who refused to start such negotiations. Nonetheless, at some point, he agreed to come to terms. Precisely for that reason, the way in which Sisebut introduced his legate Ansemundus is so meaningful to us. Sisebut asked Caesarius to trust Ansemundus, to receive him without prejudice, fear or suspicion.5 This clearly shows that, despite the imperial request, there must still have been hesitation concerning Sisebut’s decision. This reiterates how strenuous the relations between Visigoths and Byzantines were.6 In any event, the mentioned epistles reveal that the aim of the negotiation was to achieve a peace agreement, as can be perceived in Sisebut’s epistle and in the last two letters from Caesarius. Although we have no solid evidence that such a treaty finally became a reality, from the text of the last epistle of Caesarius we can infer that it was so.7 to the pages where they are traceable. In this chapter, we will only cite specific bibliographic references on the issues of distrust, diplomatic matters, and the emperor’s involvement. For an analysis of the negotiations between Visigoths and Byzantines, particularly for this period, see Wood, ‘Defending Byzantine Spain’, although he primarily deals with the period prior to the negotiations between Sisebut and Caesarius addressed here, which he mentions but does not examine in full detail. 2 The Epistulae II, IV, and V are those sent by Caesarius; the III is from Sisebut (Miscellanea Wisigothicae Gil, ed.). Although, in this chapter, they are translated into English, all the translations of these epistles, as well as Brunhilda’s and Gregory the Great’s derive from the Spanish translation made by Martín-Iglesias, Hispania en la Antigüedad, forthcoming. I express my gratitude to Dr. Martín-Iglesias for his translations, since they allowed me to resolve several issues posed by these texts. In all cases, all readings based on his translations are my sole responsibility. 3 Epist. Wisigoth. III, 5: Ansemundo fiducialiter crede (Gil, 10 ed.). See PLRE IIIB, 1157-1158, sub ‘Sisebutus’ and PLRE IIIA, 258-259, sub ‘Caesarius 2’; See Vallejo Girvés, Hispania y Bizancio, pp. 351-353. 4 Isid., HG 61; Isid., Chron. 415; Fredeg., Chron.IV, 33; Moz. Chron. of 754, 13. See Vallejo Girvés, Hispania y Bizancio, pp. 334-344. 5 Epist. Wisigoth., III, 33-34: Ansemundo fiducialiter crede, suspensa cabillatione recipe, remota suspicione quod iusseris in eius pectore mitte (Gil, 10 ed.). 6 For this, see Vallejo Girvés, Hispania y Bizancio, passim. 7 See below.

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Where did this aforementioned suspicion come from? One could argue it arose even before the Byzantines entered Hispania; namely in Ceuta when, according to Isidore of Seville, c. 548, after the troops of the Visigothic King Theudis had conquered this stronghold, the Byzantines ignored Sunday rest and seized Ceuta, defeating the Visigoths.8 However, since many sources point out that the Byzantines considered Sunday as a day when no action should be taken, not even military, presumably the Sevillian bishop –who wrote at least fifty years after this incident– used this argument in order to excuse the Visigothic defeat.9 Certainly, the Visigothic distrust would have started shortly after the Byzantines entered Iberia to help Athanagild in his conflict with King Agila, c. 522.10Albeit through indirect evidence, we understand that, in order to receive such assistance, Emperor Justinian demanded that the Visigothic commander cede a part of the peninsular territory to the Empire.11 For that very reason a first covenant would be signed; nevertheless, the Byzantines would not limit their occupation to the ceded territories, but would occupy much more.12 This Byzantine ‘exceedance’, together with King Agila’s weakness, could have provided the motives that, ironically, led Athanagild to the throne. It may also explain why, once established, the new Visigothic King would undertake actions against the territories lost to Byzantine control.13 Thanks to the correspondence exchanged between the Visigothic King Reccared and Pope Gregory the Great from 594 to 599, we have it on good authority that a second agreement was reached when Athanagild was already king and Justinian Byzantine emperor. This event must have taken place between 555 and 565.14 In a previous study, we set out to prove with solid arguments that the motives for this second agreement were propelled by internal difficulties experienced by both parties.15 Justinian needed to send troops to those areas that were most at risk: Italy, Africa and, of course, the East; moreover, according to Agathias, by that time, the emperor was more willing to negotiate than to wage war.16 For his part, Athanagild, having 8 See Isid., HG 42 (long version). 9 Vallejo Girvés, Hispania y Bizancio, pp. 117-123. 10 Jord., Get. LVIII, 303; Greg. Tours, Hist. IV, 8; Isid., HG 47; Isid., Chron. 399; cf. Fredeg., Chron. III, 47. 11 Cf.Greg. Tours, Hist. II, 48; Fredeg., Chron. III, 48. 12 See Vallejo Girvés, ‘The Treaties’. 13 Greg. Tours, Hist. IV, 8; Isid., HG 46-47. See Vallejo Girvés, Hispania y Bizancio, pp. 125-164. 14 Greg. Mag., Epist. IX, 229. 15 Vallejo Girvés, ‘The Treaties’, pp. 215-217. 16 Agath., Hist. V, 14, 1; cf. Corip., In Laud. Iust. 260-271.

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defeated Agila, had to strengthen his power and eradicate the rebellious bastions in Baetica.17 It is highly likely that this second covenant agreed on territorial boundaries between the Visigothic and the Byzantine possessions in the Iberian Peninsula, as well as on a non-aggression pact.18 It would have been an agreement to reinforce the territories under discussion controlled by each of them at the moment of settlement. This status quo may have been broken by Athanagild, taking advantage of the succession crisis caused by Justinian’s death in 565.19 In any case, the literary sources enable us to affirm that Leovigild, second successor to Athanagild, did refuse to observe what had been settled in the second pact. For many years, this Visigothic king carried out an offensive against the southern part of the peninsular territory, grabbing strategical areas from the Byzantines.20 Therefore, at one time or another, both powers decided to violate what had been mutually consented. The mentioned epistle from Caesarius to Sisebut reveals a Visigothic king wary of the Byzantines’ intentions. The suspicions were probably Byzantine as well, although we cannot prove it, given that the literary sources scarcely refer to Byzantine opinions on the Hispanic struggle.21 Such facts as, for instance, Leovigild managing the betrayal of a Byzantine officer –viz in the fortress of Assidona– lead us to firmly consider this idea.22 Shortly after this episode, some Visigothic factions started to rely again on the assistance Byzantines could provide for their aspirations to the throne of Toledo, in return for – as is patent – new cessions of territory in the peninsula. This certainly was the case for Hermenegild, who, in his attempt to expel his father from the Visigothic throne, asked the Byzantine commanders in Hispania for military help.23 Moreover, Hermenegild deputed Leander, bishop of Seville, who travelled straight to Constantinople to negotiate the details of the request and the potential compensations with the leaders of the Empire – by that time headed by Emperor Maurice.24 However, we know through Gregory of Tours that, shortly after, Leovigild managed to 17 Ps. Chron. Caesar. ad a. 568. 18 See Vallejo Girvés, ‘The Treaties’, p. 217. 19 Cf. Ps. Chron. Caesar. ad a. 568. See Vallejo Girvés, Hispania y Bizancio, pp. 199-202. 20 John Bic., Chron. ad a. 569.2; 570. 1-3; 571. 1-3; Isid., HG 49. See Vallejo Girvés, Hispania y Bizancio, pp. 208-222. 21 We have examined this situation in Vallejo Girvés, ‘¿El Umbral del Imperio?’. 22 John Bic., Chron. ad a. 571. 3. 23 Greg. Tours, Hist. V, 38 and VI, 18. 24 Greg. Mag., Mor. In Iob. Praef.

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inhibit the Byzantine military in the conflict with his son by buying it for 30,000 golden solidi.25 The chronicles are clear: the negotiations between Leovigild and the Byzantines weakened Hermenegild’s forces, and he finally surrendered to his father.26 Such a Byzantium attitude only confirms the observations made when they provided assistance to Athanagild: Byzantine commitments were neither reliable, nor long-lasting. But, as we shall examine next, from a different perspective, Hermenegild’s issue contributed to supporting Visigothic feelings about the volatility of the Byzantines. A little Athanagild had been born from Hermenegild’s marriage to Ingunda, a Merovingian princess – daughter of Brunhilda and Sigibert of Austrasia, and sister to King Childebert II – and he was still a child when Hermenegild was defeated.27 Even though the latter was captured by Leovigild, Ingunda and her son were not. If we understand the sources properly, Ingunda and Athanagild attempted to get from Baetica – where most clashes between their respective troops had taken place – into Gallia, where they sought refuge and help from their relatives. Yet, Byzantine soldiers finally seized and transferred them to safer imperial territories.28 Ingunda passed away during the journey; not so little Athanagild, who was taken to Constantinople,29 probably to be used as a bargaining chip for the imperial ambitions of by-then-Emperor Maurice in the West, that is to say, on the Italian-Gallic and Hispanic frontiers.30 Literary texts inform us that Leovigild tried to keep mother and son in Visigothic territory,31 aware that, should they fall into other hands, they could turn into a source of instability for him. Having failed to do so, however, there is no evidence he endeavoured to get his grandson back from the emperor. Certainly, Athanagild’s custody in the imperial city must have been a further element that helped to extend, from the Visigothic perspective, the long list of controvertible Byzantine attitudes, since that boy was the son of the man who had qualified to be king: he could be used to undermine Visigothic stability if the Empire deemed it necessary. 25 Greg. Tours, Hist. VI, 43. 26 John Bicl., Chron. ad a. 584. 3. See Wood, ‘Defending Byzantine’, pp. 311-312; Vallejo Girvés, Hispania y Bizancio, pp. 235-256. 27 John Bicl., Chron.ad a. 579. 2; cf. Greg. Tours, Hist. V, 38. 28 Greg. Tours, Hist. VI, 40 y VIII, 28; Fredeg., Chron. III, 87, 10-12; Paul. Diac., HL 21. 29 Greg. Tours, Hist. VIII, 28; Paul. Diac., HL 21, since both mention a different place for Ingunda’s death. 30 Athanagild’s hostage status is patent in the epistles sent from Austrasia, particularly by Brunhilda and Childebert II, to several personalities of the court at Constantinople (Epist. Austras. 27-28 and 43-45). For more details, see Vallejo Girvés, ‘Un asunto de chantaje’. 31 Greg. Tours, Hist. VI, 43.

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In our opinion, these questionable Byzantine attitudes induced Reccared some years later to wonder about whether the Byzantines were keeping to the terms of the second pact between Athanagild and Justinian. It is worth addressing this issue in greater detail, as the hostilities between Visigoths and Byzantines continued after Reccared succeeded Leovigild, his father.32 Among the correspondence exchanged between Gregory the Great and Reccared’s court, is a key epistle for Visigothic Hispania – number IX, 229 of the Pope’s Registrum Epistolarum – addressed to this Visigothic king. It is the response from Gregory the Great to a previous letter sent by Reccared, in which the king officially informed the Bishop of Rome about his people’s conversion and his own, as well as the causes of his delay in communicating such news.33 In epistle IX, 229, the Pope responded – albeit many years after the Visigothic reception – expressing his joy at the abandonment of Arianism and at the king’s policy against the Jews of his realm. In the same epistle, Gregory the Great notified Reccared of the bestowal of the pallium to Leander of Seville.34 Nothing in the content of the epistle explains what follows. After concluding the above-mentioned matter, the Pontiff addressed a completely different one, unconnected to any religious issue. Turning to a purely political subject, Gregory allowed himself to dispense advice on how to tackle the relations between Visigoths and Byzantines. The beginning of the epistle’s brief colophon is simple yet enigmatic: ‘On the occasion of the rereading’:35 Which text did the Pontiff reread? It could not have been Reccared’s epistle informing him of the conversion because its text is preserved and there is no mention of it. Presumably, in reviewing the text of his letter to the Visigoth, the Pontiff would remember a request made in the past. Gregory I did not respond until the time the epistle IX, 229 was composed. In his epistle, the Pope reminded Reccared that, some time ago, the king had requested his mediation before the emperor so this would provide the particulars of the covenants previously signed by Visigoths and Byzantines, ‘so you could know through them which obligations to you he should fulfil.’36 Reccared did not make this request in writing, but rather through a young Neapolitan, who must have done it in his own voice.37 Beyond the reasons 32 Isid., HG 54; CIL II, 3420 = ILS 835; ICERV 362; cf. Leandr., Reg. 875-878. 33 Reccared., Epistula ad Gregorium papam (CPL 1714)= Greg. Mag., Epist. IX, 227. 34 Greg. Mag., Reg. Epist. IX, 229. 35 Ibid.: ‘In anagnostico’ p. 810, (Norberg, ed.). 36 Greg. Mag., Reg. Epist. IX, 229: ut ex his colligeret qui duobis seruare debuisset, p. 810 (ed. by D. Norberg). 37 Greg. Mag., Reg. Epist. IX, 229.

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for Reccared choosing this legate to convey such a sensitive issue to the Pontiff, the viva voce (‘oral’) transmission of the Visigothic request is not itself a particular sign of distrust. Conveying messages and instructions viva voce was customary in diplomacy at that time. It did not necessarily involve distrust between the receiver and the transmitter, but it did demonstrate great trust in the person in charge of communicating the message, in this case the young Neapolitan. During Late Antiquity, the diplomatic usage of this kind of message transmission is thoroughly documented. Many epistles exchanged between various political powers, confronted or not, provide information in this regard. In such cases, the epistles themselves do not contain enough information for us to know in detail the topic discussed. In fact, letters were simply a way of introducing their sender to the receiver, informing them of who the person in charge of transmitting the minutiae (‘details’) of the matter was, as well as of the fact that he would utter the message verbally.38 The reason for such practice may lie in the fact that, were this issue to be exposed in writing, it could fall into the wrong hands and result in a misuse of the information concerned. Oral transmission, at least a priori, would lessen that undeniably real risk. As has been pointed out by E.Nechaeva, the justification provided by a Varia of Cassiodorus addressed from King Theodahad to Emperor Justinian supports this assumption:39 ‘But, because a letter cannot include everything, I have entrusted some material to be brought verbally to your sacred notice.’40 In another Varia, addressed in this case from King Theodorich to the Frank Clovis: ‘There are, indeed, some things which I have thought of for your benefit: these I have entrusted to the bearers to be delivered to you by word of mouth, that thus you may be made more prudent, and steadily obtain the full results of your longed-for victory.’41 Furthermore, in another Varia sent by King Witigis to the same emperor, this method of transmission was supported by arguing that a verbal explanation could provide more particulars than a written one: ‘But the 38 Gillet, Envoys and Political Communication, pp.210, 237; Cf.Dumézil, ‘Les vrais-faux messages’, p. 23. 39 Nechaeva, Embassies-Negotiations-Gifts, p. 45. 40 Cass., Var. 10, 22. 3, 32-34: Sed quia epistularis series continere non poterat uniuersa, aliqua sacris sensibus verbo insinuanda commisimus (ed. by Å. J. Fridg., 92). English translation by Barnish, p. 140. On Diplomacy in Variae, see Gillet, Envoys, pp. 174-190, and particularly for oral messages, pp. 180, 210 and 237. 41 Cass., Var. 2, 41, 3, 29-30: per harum portitores uerbo uobis insinuanda commisimus, ut cautiores effecti optata possitis uictoria constanter expleri (ed. by Å. J. Fridg., 92). English trans. by Barnish, Cassiodorus, p. 44.

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rest I have entrusted to the aforementioned envoys to be delivered by word of mouth, so that the brevity of a letter may touch on some matters, while those who report to you will advise you more fully of my case.’42 This issue is exemplified not only by models of letters of this kind from the Merovingian Kingdoms – such as Marculf’s Formula I, 9, a model of ‘Letter of recommendation to another King, when an embassy is sent and presents a verbal communication’43 – but also by instances almost contemporary to the mentioned dialogue between Reccared and Gregory the Great. Such is the case of the epistle that Queen Brunhilda addressed to Emperor Maurice. Having made the introductions de rigueur and having summarily defined the issue, she pointed out that the conveyors of the letter would expose viva voce Austrasia’s proposals: ‘The bearers of the presents are directed to your Clemency to whom we have committed what should be proffered orally about certain subjects to your Serenity.’44 We can observe a similar situation a decade after Reccared’s death in the epistolary of Bulgar, Governor of the Gothic province of Septimania. Although not expressed as in the above cases, it seems to allude to the practice of using letters as an introduction for legates and emissaries. 45 For all these reasons, it may come as a surprise that, in addressing Reccared, the Pope did not use the same device, but instead put in writing a piece of advice that, quite obviously, could result in exacerbating the conflict with the emperor. 46 That said, we should acknowledge that his way of communicating his opinions or judgements, even on thorny issues, was usually in writing, as attested by his vast epistolary corpus. 47 Turning to the issue in question, Reccared’s utilization of oral communication to request a mediation from Gregory the Great is not, therefore, a sign of distrust. What certainly could indicate distrust towards the Empire, 42 Cass., Var 10, 32, 4, 32-35: Reliqua uero per legatos praedictos serenitati uestra e uerbo insinuanda commisimus, ut et aliqua epistularis breuitas perstringeret et causas nostras suggerentes plenius intimarent (ed. by Å. J. Fridg, p. 416). English trans. Barnish, Cassiodorus, p. 144. Cf. Gillet, Envoys, p. 221. 43 Marculf, Form. I, 9: Inde colum ad alium regem, cum legatio diregitur et uerbis suggerit, commendatium, Zeumer ed. p. 48. English translation by Rio, The Formularies, pp. 141-142. 44 Epist. Austr. 26: praesentium latores ad Clementiam Vestram directi sunt, quibus de certis titulis Vestrae Serenitatis uerbo proferenda conmisimus, Gundlach, ed., p. 139. English translation by Ferrante, https://epistolae.ctl.columbia.edu/. 45 Epist. Wisigoth. XII. 46 On the defence of Italy against the Lombards, the vindication of the Roman primacy facing the claims of the Patriarch of Constantinople and other topics, see Greg. Mag., Epist. I, 73; V, 36; VIII, 105; XI, 29 or XIII, 49. See Conte, Chiesa e Primato. 47 Greg. Mag., Reg. Epist.

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however, is the argument that,according to the Pontiff, the king put forward to ask for papal intercession before the imperial leaders: ‘That he should write to the most merciful Emperor in order for the latter to seek in his archives the covenants settled in the past between Prince Justinian, of pious memory, and the laws of your domain,so he will know through them which obligations to you he should fulfil.’48 The reason that Reccared needed to know the text of that or those covenants kept by the Byzantines has been the subject of considerable debate. A first possible explanation is that the copy of the text kept by the Visigoths had been lost: suffering in those years a situation of open military confrontation, 49 the Visigothic king wished to know exactly the rights and obligations agreed at the time by the signatories, i.e. Justinian and Athanagild.50 In his reply, the Pontiff – besides failing to provide the whole of the information requested – urged him to make peace. For that reason, we can assume that, pondering the war that Iberia was experiencing, Reccared would have been eager to check whether the Byzantines had altered the content of the agreement. It is true that, in his request to Gregory the Great, Reccared did not report the rupture of the covenants but only wished to ascertain what had been agreed; but from our perspective, the sentence ‘which obligations to you he [the Emperor] should fulfil,’51 was an elegant way of expressing his suspicions about the emperor’s soldiers not abiding by the agreement.52 Considering the key used in this chapter to examine the diplomatic relationship between Visigoths and Byzantines, namely distrust, we come to assume that Reccared could have made such a request to the Pontiff because the previous Visigothic experience related to the Byzantine observance of the agreements had been troublesome. Hence the Visigothic king now intended to make sure that the Byzantines were respecting the pacts convened three decades before and was wary of the empire, since the precedents had been harmful for the Visigoths. In spite of this, according to Gregory the Great, those hesitations were unfounded because – as far as he knew from the 48 Greg. Mag., Reg. Epist. IX, 229: ut piis imo imperatori scriberem, quatenus pacta in cartofilacio requireret, quaedudum inter piae memoriae Iustinianum principem et iura regni uestri fuerant emissa, ut ex his colligeret, quid uobis seruare debuisset. (ed. by D. Norberg, p. 810). 49 Cf. supra n. 32. 50 Vallejo Girvés, Hispania y Bizancio, pp. 284-287. 51 Greg. Mag., Reg. Epist. IX, 229: ‘ut ex his colligeret, quid uobis seruare debuisset’ (ed. by D. Norberg, p. 810). 52 See Claude, ‘Die diplomatischen Beziehungen’, pp. 18-19; Wood, ‘Defending Byzantine’, p. 317; Vallejo Girvés, Hispania y Bizancio, pp. 268-284.

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text of the agreement – the pact did not benefit Reccared, but rather the Emperor, given the current state of forces.53 From Reccared’s reign up to the f irst years of Sisebut’s rule, warlike confrontations over peninsular territory characterized the relationship between Visigoths and Byzantines, a fact the written sources are clear about.54 At the beginning of his reign, Sisebut was particularly active and successful, conquering from the Byzantines important regions and cities, including probably Málaga.55 It is against this concrete background that the Byzantines requested the settlement of a covenant, as attested in the epistles of Patricius Caesarius and Sisebut.56 Thus, we must conclude this work by examining how the negotiations could have evolved and how, despite tensions, both parties wanted to trust each other so to foster peace. Before starting this analysis, it is worth noting that Caesarius’s ‘enterprise’ is in consonance with the Byzantine diplomatic typology of the sixth and seventh centuries. The negotiations were carried out by the emperor’s legate – Caesarius – and a sovereign – Sisebut.57 One might wonder why, after so many years of open war, Caesarius repeatedly asked Sisebut for the opening of negotiations in order to reach a peace treaty. The answer can be found in the complex situation the empire was dealing with in its oriental territories: even if Phocas’s usurpation (602-610) had finally been overcome with Heraclius’s access to the throne, its consequences were extremely serious for Byzantine territorial integrity: the Sassanids conquered nearly the whole of Syria, Egypt, and Palestine, the highest point being the occupation of Jerusalem in 614. In addition, these defeats occurred while a large part of the imperial army was stationed in those territories, leaving the western regions of the empire and particularly the Hispanic ones considerably unprotected.58 This context must have been leveraged by the successive Visigothic kings Witteric, Gundemar, and Sisebut to start an offensive of territorial conquest. The first two kings did 53 Greg. Mag., Reg. Epist. IX, 229. 54 Isid., HG 58-59; Chron. Pseud. Isid. Hisp. 15-16. See Vallejo Girvés, Hispania y Bizancio, pp. 316-329. 55 Isid., HG 61 (LV); Isid., Chron. 415; Fredeg., Chron. IV, 33; Cont. Isid. Hisp. 13. About Málaga, cf. II Conc. Hispal. c. I (in ed. J. Vives, Concilios visigóticos, pp. 163-164). See Vallejo Girvés, Hispania y Bizancio, pp. 334-344. 56 See also, albeit in less detail, Claude, ‘Die diplomatischen’, p. 22; Wood, ‘Defending Byzantine’, p. 318. 57 Nechaeva, Embassies, pp. 79-80; a practical application in Fernández Delgado, De Re Diplomatica, p. 534. 58 Vallejo Girvés, Hispania y Bizancio, pp. 316-326 and 330-334.

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well,59 but the greatest achievements were made by Sisebut, coinciding with Emperor Heraclius’s greater dedication to the eastern front.60 Even though it is a statement formulated as a means to negotiate peace in the battlefield, we agree with Jamie Wood, who rightly considered pertinent to the Visigothic-Byzantine conflict the affirmation of the Anonymous Byzantine Treatise on Strategy, according to which ‘negotiating for peace may be chosen before other means, since it might very well offer the best prospect for protecting our own interests.’61 If we ponder this, as well as the harassment the Byzantines experienced during the initial years of Sisebut’s rule, it follows that this was precisely the reason for Caesarius requesting a peace covenant: he was ‘protecting his own interests’. The content of Caesarius’s first epistle not only informs us about his reiterated request for peace and Sisebut’s refusal to negotiate, but it also presents us with a Byzantine legate who was perfectly aware of the king’s pious feeling. According to Isidore and Fredegarius, the monarch freed the many captives taken by the Byzantines;62 the latter even depicted Sisebut’s regret for such numbers of dead and casualties: ‘The slaughter of the Romans by his men caused the pious Sisebut to exclaim: “Woe is me, that my reign should witness so great a shedding of human blood!”’.63 Consequently, after reminding Sisebut of the many occasions on which he had requested peace, Caesarius conveyed to him that he hoped the pain caused by violence, war, and captives would make the King change his point of view64 – a gesture of goodwill intended to keep at bay the suspicions Visigoths would certainly feel about any Byzantine action in Hispania. Sisebut’s rejection of repeated Byzantine requests for peace is a clear sign of this, even if we consider that the Visigothic king could allow himself to do so: he must have been in a clear position of strength after having seized territories and cities. Chronicles reflect Sisebut taking and later releasing numerous captives.65 Despite their reduced forces, the Byzantines also took prisoners: among them, an important dignitary of the Visigothic Kingdom, bishop Caecilius 59 Isid., HG 58-59; Chron. Pseud. Isid. Hisp. 15-16. 60 Isid., HG 61; Isid., Chron. 415; Fredeg., Chron. IV, 33; Cont. Isid. Hisp. 13. 61 See Three Byzantine Military Treatises, 6, Dennis, ed., p. 310, and cf. J. Haldon, ‘Blood and ink’, p. 283. 62 Isid., HG 61; Fredeg., Chron. IV, 33. 63 Fredeg., Chron. IV, 33: Cumque Romani ab exercito Sisebodi trucidarentur, Sisebotus dicebat pietate plenus: ‘Eu me misero, cuius tempore tante sanguis humanae effusio fietur’ (ed. by B. Krusch, 133). English translation by Wallace-Hadrill, pp. 21-22. 64 Epist. Wisigoth. II, 11-14. 65 Isid., HG 61 (LV); Fredeg., Chron. IV, 33.

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of Mentesa. In the first epistle, Caesarius explicitly stated that he had freed him as a proof of his good will –‘festinantes sanare omnibus boluntatem absoluimus’ [‘ready to show our good will in every issue’] – as he remarked to the Visigothic King.66 This was, most likely, the sign that finally persuaded Sisebut of the sincerity of the Byzantine request to conclude a peace agreement. Besides the goodwill gesture, scholars studying the conflict between Visigoths and Byzantines have wondered about the arguments asserted by Caesarius to persuade Sisebut, who must have been in a strong position at that time, of the advantages for both sides of a ceasefire and the concluding of a covenant. There is virtual unanimity in thinking that the reason may lie in the large number of casualties and captives caused by the recent clashes between them, but also, perhaps, in the shock to Christianity following the Persian conquest of the holy city of Jerusalem in 614.67 Although there is no consensus in considering Caesarius the governor of Byzantine Hispania, the coincidence of his title of Patricius being the same as that of the best-known Byzantine governor in Hispania, Comentiolus,68 is, in our opinion, solid evidence for asserting that he was responsible for ruling, in the name of Emperor Heraclius, the Byzantine territories of Hispania, either peninsular, African, or Balearic. Comentiolus was dux and Magister Militum Hispaniae, a rank and position that probably would have been the same as those held by Caesarius. This is significant for us to understand the ins and outs of the negotiation and signing of the peace treaty we are examining. Although negotiating peace treaties and truces was the responsibility of the emperor, the extent of territories controlled from Constantinople made it imperative for the emperor to delegate the initial stages of the negotiations to his highest officials, the governors of territories or disputed areas. Aitor Fernández Delgado recently demonstrated that in the second half of the sixth century, Magistri Militum per Tracias and per Illyricum respectively held broad diplomatic powers due to the high levels of conflict at the time in the area, seized by Avars and Slavs.69 We posit that, during the nascent rule of Heraclius, the situation of Byzantine Hispania – steadily attacked by the Visigoths, without great chances of regaining lost territories, and far-removed from the imperial 66 Epist. Wisigoth. II, 21-23: ‘Concerning blessed Caecilius, our father, who was retained by our army, we have already freed him considering God and Your Majesty, ready to show good our will in every issue’. 67 See Vallejo Girvés, Hispania y Bizancio, pp. 344-351. 68 PLRE IIIA, 323, sub ‘Comentiolus 1’ and 329, sub ‘Comitiolus 2’; cf. Vallejo Girvés, Hispania y Bizancio, pp. 294-296. 69 Fernández Delgado, De Re Diplomatica, 547-548.

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government’s focal point – should have compelled the court to confer onto Caesarius the same prerogatives of negotiation on behalf of the emperor that the Magistri Militum per Thracias and per Illyricum would have had. This is evidenced by the opening of Caesarius’s epistle to Sisebut: ‘we have submitted a request to your Eminence,’70 and by other passages, such as, ‘I do not renounce to urge your Eminence between pleas not to despise my humble person, to listen to my supplication,’71, but particularly by the one in which he explicitly affirms that he would defend before the emperor the items negotiated with a view to signing the peace treaty: ‘your Eminence will confirm that We shall at any time act as a guarantor before the Serene Lord of the city, your father, with the greatest advantage on your behalf. Thus, we shall fulfil the responsibilities of the duty that is expected from Us.’72 This last statement takes us back to Caesarius’s attempt to overcome the great doubts the Visigothic leaders – Sisebut, at this time – would have had about believing any promise made by the Byzantines and, moreover, any approach or engagement signed by them. The matter is patent, as Caesarius presented himself as a defensor of the treaty to be signed before the emperor: the Byzantine governor was offering the very highest guarantee that could be offered to an enemy’s leader. Sisebut’s piety, the humility and good will gestures of Caesarius would have pushed the former – in addition to the other reasons examined above – to consent to starting the negotiations that would end in the peace the Byzantines desired so much. This is what lies behind the single extant epistle from Sisebut. In it, albeit in a less direct way, the king alluded to those recurrent cross-purposes with the Byzantines that had previously prevented him from attending to the Byzantine request. At least, this is how we interpret the phrase: ‘set aside the impediments of the circumstances, shunt the negotiations on lost causes, removed the ambiguities of the delays.’73 But the epistle also evinces that loyalty was the distinguishing mark of the Christians, and in it he grounded his 70 Epist. Wisigoth. II, 1: nostra frequens postulatio aput eminentiam tuam fuit‘. (Ed. by J. Gil, p. 6). 71 Epist. Wisigoth. II, 12-13: non sileo uestram eminentiam mea propulsare obsecratione, ut humilitatem non spernas, preces audias […](ed. by J. Gil, p. 7). 72 Epist. Wisigoth. II, 30-34: Quod si in sua obsecratione tristis nostra uolumtas non remanserit, apud serenissimum urbis dominum patrem uestrum auctorem nos sue maxime utilitati uestra agnoscebit in omnibus existere eminentia. Debiti a nobis officii iura persoluimus (ed. by J. Gil, p. 8). 73 Epist. Wisigoth. III, 4-5: Expulsa retinacula occasionum, expulsa negotia peruntium causarum, expulsis ambagibus morarum (ed. by J. Gil ed., p. 9).

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willingness to negotiate. This is indicated by the king’s phrases such as ‘If loyalty is valuable for Christians, accept our treaty,’74 or ‘I swear by God that with His help I shall keep this promise in any event and that I shall observe with constancy this vow made by means of a sacred oath.’75 In this case, both Caesarius and Sisebut expressly wanted to use their common Christian faith as an element of union and a basis of trust for negotiations.76 This is a significant shift considering that, just a quarter of a century before, derogatory and negative qualifiers were the usual keynotes in Visigothic literary sources and in Byzantine public documents:77 as has been noted, in the sixth and seventh centuries, ‘l’éthique chrétienne vient juste de faire son entrée dans le champ de la diplomatie’ (‘Christian ethics have just burst into the f ield of diplomacy’).78 Caesarius’s and Sisebut’s common plea for a peace desired by God that could not be rejected by men is a clear example of the point made by Bruno Dumézil. Moreover, the eschatological atmosphere surrounding the Sassanid advance towards the Holy Land would not only help diplomacy becoming pervious to this Christian ethics, but it also made easier the negotiations between the Visigoths and Byzantines.79 In this context, the Visigothic king introduced Ansemundus to Caesarius, requesting that he should show no suspicion and should trust the sincerity of what the legate would tell him. We can see here once again the diplomatic use of the verbal transmission of messages. This is how we understand Sisebut’s statement that he had communicated his instructions to Ansemundus, presented as his servant, and scarcely gifted at eloquence. The end of the phrase is evidence of the verbal use of the diplomatic message: ‘I have faith you will trust in his sincerity and I hold, my beloved friend, as if I were there present, everything that he could not pose elegantly […]. He had been instructed in such a meticulous way that I am certain that, 74 Epist. Wisigoth. III, 11-12: Si fides Xpianis adibetur, suscipe federa (ed. by J. Gil, p. 9). 75 Epist. Wisigoth. III, 13-15: Profiteor coram Deo ipso propitiante promissionem meam in omnibus conseruare et sacre deuotionis propositum intemerata mente tenere (ed. by J. Gil, p. 9). See on this matter Dumézil, ‘Ubi est pax et caritas’, p. 102, who examines specifically Sisebut’s position and his use of the argument about the Christian bloodshed. 76 On the use of the negotiations carried out by the Empire before other political powers see Fernández Delgado, De Re Diplomatica, p. 565. 77 Isid., HG 54 (LV): contra romanas insolentias [‘Against Roman insolence’] (ed. by C. Rodríguez Alonso, p. 264), although we have to take into account that Isidore wrote c. 620 or 630 referring to events occurred in times of Reccared; CIL II, 3420 = ILS 835; ICERV 362: Visigoths as ‘hostes barbaros’ [Barbarian enemies]. 78 Dumézil, Ubi est pax et caritas, p. 107 and cf. 108. 79 See Vallejo Girvés, ‘Sensaciones bizantinas’.

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whatever your Clemency would ask him, he would give you a thoroughly adequate reply.’80 This epistle from Sisebut and what Ansemundus would communicate to Caesarius should have facilitated the beginning of the negotiations. Although all the epistles that they would have exchanged have not been preserved, given the content of what was being discussed, the second and the third epistles of Caesarius, respectively, present us with a completely different setting. In the second one, the Patricius informed the Visigothic king of the arrival in the Hispanic Byzantine territory of the entire embassy, sent by the emperor, presumably to convey the text of the treaty.81 Considering that it was extremely unusual for imperial legacies to travel with the legacies of the party with whom they would negotiate,82 this joint Visigothic-Byzantine embassy ought to be considered, from our point of view, as another gesture by the emperor designed to reassure the Visigoths that all the arrangements in the peace treaty would be honoured. In spite of Caesarius’s great prerogatives to negotiate with the Visigothic king, ultimately Heraclius was the one responsible for confirming the agreement made by his legate; hence it was necessary for the details of the arranged text to get through to Constantinople.83 However, even before the returning embassy reported to him, Caesarius hastened to inform Sisebut that he was sure that everything previously agreed between them would be confirmed by the emperor. This hints at Heraclius putting all his trust in the Patricius to achieve peace with sufficient guarantees for Byzantine interests.84 The embassy must have remained in Constantinople longer than expected.85 Even if one of the keynotes of Byzantine diplomacy was the dilation of diplomatic negotiations,86 that interval in the imperial city should not be 80 Epist. Wisigoth. III, 34-39: noster etenim est, etsi inpolitus eloquio, no[n] puritatis studio; ego enim affectione sincera illi qua conpetunt delegabi, qua uidentur instruxi, ut potui expolibi, unde eius sinceritatem tibi gubernandam conmitto et qu[i]a minus compte fuerit consecutus, per te, mihi karissime, ut hic me presente defendo […]; 41-43: Hic autem lator ita est in cunctis instructus et sic finaliter ordinatus, quatenus quidquid uestra clementia ab illo quesierit, opinor plenissimum uobis dare responsum (ed. by J. Gil, p. 10). 81 Epist. Wisigoth. IV, 9-13. 82 Cf. Nechaeva, Embassies, 85 and n. 78, 138, mentioning the rare cases where those joint embassies took place: one related to the conflict with Attila (Prisc., fr. 11.2); and two connected to the Byzantine conflicts with Turks and Avars respectively, during the second half of the sixth century (Men. Protect. 10.3; Theoph. Sim. 1.6.4). 83 See Fernández Delgado, De Re Diplomatica, pp. 534-535 and 548. 84 Epist. Wisigoth. IV, 13-17. Cf. Fernández Delgado, De Re Diplomatica, p. 548. 85 Epist. Wisigoth. IV, 12-13. 86 See Shepard, ‘Information, Disinformation and Delay’, p. 251.

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read as evidence of Heraclius’s disregard for the signature of the covenant. In fact, the delay was probably caused by the emperor’s more urgent concern about Avar attacks in Tracian territory, not far from the imperial city.87 Conversely, the gifts offered to the legates by the emperor – or by the officium of his Magister Officiorum, who was responsible for such matters88 – are an indication of his intention to fulfil the engagement.89 Moreover, according to Caesarius’s last epistle, not only did the Emperor assent – indeed, he enacted several rescripts probably ratifying the covenant – but, as proof of the importance he attached to the pact, he even wrote some sentences in his own hand, annotating paragraphs of particularly significance to him.90 Heraclius’s decision to write in his own hand in the documents prepared by the scrinium of the Magister Officiorum or of the Magister Epistolarum – such was the current use of the imperial administration91 – should be considered another gesture towards the Visigoths, since the inclusion of the emperor’s manus propria (own hand) added authority to the document and conferred his express agreement to what had been recorded in it. Moreover, the emperor wrote with purple ink and with particular ligatures, which provides further, incontrovertible evidence of the authenticity of the document.92 A similar prerogative is documented during the times of Theodosius II, who wrote some words of gratitude in his own hand, with purple ink, in a papyrus letter to a governor of the Egyptian area of Assuan.93 It was regulated by Emperor Leo I, who prescribed severe penalties for whoever may violate that precept.94 It is on this basis that we consider that ‘the hand of the Emperor’ in the rescripts sent to Sisebut would have been written with the same kind of ink.95 Heraclius’s and Caesarius’s last gesture to dispel distrust from Sisebut’s mind was to send back to Toledo not only the Visigothic legate Theoderic – who must have been, after Leander of Seville and Licinianus of Cartagena,96 87 Pohl, Die Awaren, p. 244; Kaegi, Heraclius, p. 89. 88 Epist. Wisigoth. IV, 12. 89 Nechaeva, Embassies, pp. 26-27. 90 Epist. Wisigoth. V, 1-5. 91 Fernández Delgado, De Re Diplomatica, p. 544. 92 Hörandner, ‘Ink’, p. 995; cf. Reinhold, History of Purple. 93 Pap. Leiden II Z; cf. Kaldellis, A Cabinet of Byzantine Curiosities, p. 89. 94 CI I, 23, 6 and 6.1: ‘Imp. Leo A. Hilariano magistro officiorum et patricio (a. 471) (Corpus Iuris Civilis II, (Krueger, ed., p. 76). See Hermanowicz, ‘Textual Adventures’, p. 98; Elliott, ‘Purple Past’, p. 184. 95 The sixth- and seventh-century Merovingian kings used a similar appeal in order to authenticate what was written under their name (Dumézil, ‘Les vrais-faux messages’, p. 21, and particularly Ibid., ‘La Chancellerie Mérovingienne’, pp. 480-481). 96 See supra and Isid., De Viris. Ills. XXX.

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the third highest ranked Visigothic official to visit the court of Constantinople – but also Presbyter Amelius, agent of the Byzantine Patricius before the emperor.97 It is important to bear in mind that Caesarius gave this instruction because it was ‘the Emperor’s command.’98 Consequently, the Visigothic king would not only obtain information about the particulars of Theoderic’s stay in Constantinople, but this would be confirmed by the Byzantine legate who had accompanied him. The argument Caesarius gave Sisebut for the king to receive not only Theoderic, but also Amelius is a new example of the reiterated Byzantine gestures aimed at dispelling Visigothic suspicions: ‘Certainly, they can set forth to you the whole matter with trusted words and a vivid account, since their prestige is proficient, their sincerity copious and their zeal definitely reliable.’99 The Byzantine finished his epistle requiring from Sisebut the completion of the agreement confirmed by the emperor in his rescript:100 this can only have been the stipulation of the peace covenant. All these events indicate the end to conflict between Visigoths and Byzantines. We can suppose that, by signing the covenant, Sisebut accepted – as Athanagild had done in his time – the legality of the imperial presence in part of the Iberian territory. However, Suinthila, successor to Sisebut, expelled the Byzantines militarily. He was probably the one that conquered and levelled what seemed to be their capital, Carthago Spartaria.101 There is insufficient information to assert whether the Visigoths implemented the imperial rescripts. What is evident, however, is that, ultimately, the Byzantines – militarily focused on their conflicted eastern territories – relied on the fact that the peace treaty would be observed by the Visigoths. It is also obvious that, for their part, the Visigoths acted the same way as the Byzantine soldiers did when entering Iberia between 552- 555, i.e. taking advantage of the weakness of those with whom they had signed a non-aggression pact. In doing so, they managed to nullify Byzantine sovereignty in Hispania. Thence, Isidore of Seville could say that after Suinthila ‘had ascended to the summit of royal dignity, he waged war and obtained all the remaining cities which the Roman army held in Spain.’102 97 Epist. Wisigoth. V, 8-14. 98 Ibid., 10: preceptionem imperatoris (ed. by J. Gil, p. 13). 99 Ibid., 14-16: Isti denique queunt uobis omnia fidelibus uerbis hac eloquiis pandere uiuidis, quorum fides habetur hidonea, sinceritas copiosa, industria nimis cauta (ed. by J. Gil p. 13). 100 Ibid., 18-21. 101 Isid., HG 62; Isid., Etym. XV, 1, 67. 102 Isid., HG 62 (LV): Postquam uero apicem fastigit regalis conscendit, urbes residuas, quas in Hispaniis Romana manus agebat, proelio conserto obtinuit (ed. by C. Rodríguez Alonso, p. 276); English translation by Wolf, Conquerors and Chronicles, p. 87; Isid., Chron. 416b).

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Abbreviations BAC CIL II. CSIC ICERV ILS MGH AA MGH SRL

Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum. Hispania Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas Inscripciones Cristianas de la España Romana y Visigoda Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae Monumenta Germaniae Historica – Autores Antiquissimi Monumenta Germaniae Historica – Scriptores Rerum Langobardicarum et Italicarum MGH SRM Monumenta Germaniae Historica – Scriptores Rerum Merovingicarum The Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire PLRE Settimane di studio del Centro italiano di studi Sett. Sp. sull’alto Medioevo

Works cited Agathias, Histories, ed. by Joseph Frendo, The Histories (Berlin and New York: De Gruyter,1975). Agathias, Histories, ed. by Begoña Ortega Villaró, Agatías. Historias (Madrid: Gredos, 2008). Campos Ruiz, Julio, and Roca Meliá, Ismael, eds, Santos Padres Españoles II. San Leandro, San Fructuoso, San Isidoro. Reglas monásticas de la España Visigoda. Los tres libros de las “Sentencias” = BAC 321 (Madrid: Católica, 1971). Cassiodorus, Variae, ed. by Åke J. Fridg, Magni Aurelii Cassiodori Variarum Libri XII = CCSL 96 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1973). Cassiodorus, Variae, ed. and trans. by Sam Barnish, Cassiodorus. Variae, translated with notes and introduction (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1992). Chronica Caesaraugustana (Pseudo-), ed. by Carmen Cardelle de Hartmann and Roger Collins, Victoris Tunnunensis Chronicon cum reliquiis ex Consularibus Caesaraugustanis et Iohannis Biclarensis Chronicon = CCSL 173A (Brepols: Turnhout, 2001). Chronica Pseudo-Isidoriana, ed. by Theodor Mommsen, Chronica Minora II, MGH AA 11 (Berlin: Weidmann, 1894), pp. 377-388. Claude, Dietrich, ‘Die diplomatischen Beziehungen dem Westgotenreich und Ostrom (475-615)’, Mitteilungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung 104 (1996), pp. 13-25. Conte, Pietro, Chiesa e Primato nelle lettere dei papi del secolo VII. Con appendice critica (Milano: Vita e Pensiero, 1971).

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Corippus, In Laudem, ed. and trans. by Serge Antès, Corippe (Flavius CresconiusCorippus). Eloge de l’Empereur Justin II (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1981). Corippus, In Laudem, ed. and trans. by Antonio Ramírez de Verger, Flavio Cresconio Coripo. El Panegírico de Justino II (Sevilla: Universidad de Sevilla, 1985). Corpus Iuris Civilis, ed. by Paul Krueger, Corpus Iuris Civilis II, Codex Iustinianus (repr. Frankfurt am Main: Kristand KG, 1967). Dumézil, Bruno, ‘Les vrais-faux messages diplomatiques mérovingiens’, in Épistolaire politique. 2. Authentiques et autographes, ed. by Bruno Dumézil and Laurent Vissière (Paris: PUPS, 2006), pp. 19-34. Dumézil, Bruno, ‘“Ubi est pax et caritas, ibidem est Dei pietas”: Paix de Dieu et paix des hommes dans les royaumes barbares (VIe-VIIe siècles)’, in Idees de pau a l’Edat Mitjana, ed. by Flocel Sabaté i Curull and Maite Pedrol (Lérida: Pagès Editors, 2010), pp. 101-121. Dumézil, Bruno, ‘La chancellerie mérovingienne au VIe siècle’, in Le corti nell’alto medioevo = Sett. Sp. 62 (Spoleto: CISAM, 2015), pp. 473-502. Elliott, Charlene, ‘Purple Past: Color Codification in the Ancient World’, Law and Social Inquiry 33, 1 (2008), pp. 173-194. Epistolae Austrasicae,ed. by Wilhelm Gundlach, Epistolae Merowingici et Karolini Aevi I, MGH Epistolarum 3 (Berlin: Weidmann, 1892). Epistolae Wisigothicae, ed. by Juan Gil, Miscellanea Wisigothicae. Editio altera lucis opera impresa (Sevilla: Servicio de Publicaciones de la Universidad de Sevilla, 1991). Epistolae Wisigothicae, ed. by José Carlos Martín-Iglesias, Hispania en la Antigüedad a través de sus fuentes epistolares. Del Imperio Romano al Reino Visigodo-Católico (ss. IV-VII), in press. Epistolae Austrasicae, trans. by Joan Ferrante, Epistolae. Medieval Women’s Letters, Columbia Center for New Media Teaching and Learning, https://epistolae.ctl.columbia.edu/ (Accessed on 14 August 2019). Fernández Delgado, Aitor, De Re Diplomatica cum Barbaris. Legados, legaciones y evolución de los procesos diplomáticos del Imperio Romano de Oriente en relación a su limes septentrional durante la segunda mitad del siglo VI (Universidad de Alcalá, Tesis doctoral, 2017). Fredegar, Chronica, ed. by Bruno Krusch, Fredegarii et aliorum Chronica. Vitae Sanctorum, MGH SRM 2 (Hannover: Hahn,1888). Fredegar, Chronica, trans. by John M. Wallace-Hadrill, The Fourth Book of the Chronicle of Fredegar: With its Continuations (New York: Nelson, 1960). Gillett, Andrew, Envoys and Political Communication in Late Antique West (411-533), (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003). Gregory of Tours, Ten Books of Histories, ed. By Bruno Krusch, Gregorii episcopi Turonensis libri historiarum X, MGH SRM 1 (Hannover: Hahn, 1937).

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Gregory of Tours, Ten Books of Histories, trans. by Robert Latouche, Histoire des Francs (Paris, Les Belles Lettres, 1999). Gregory the Great, Epistles, ed. by Dag Norberg, S. Gregorii Magni Registrum Epistolarum Libri VIII-IX, Appendix = CCSL 140A (Turnhout: Brepols,1982). Gregory the Great, Moralia in Job, ed. by Marcus Adriaen, S. Gregorii Magni Moralia in Iob = CCSL 143-143B (Turnhout: Brepols, 1979-1985). Haldon, John, ’”Blood and Ink”: Some Observations on Byzantine Attitudes Towards Warfare and Diplomacy’, in Byzantine Diplomacy. Papers from the Twenty-Fourth Spring Symposium of Byzantine Studies. March 1990, ed. by Jonathan Shepard and Simon Franklin (Aldershot: Routledge, 1992), pp. 287-294. Hermanowicz, Erika, ‘Textual Adventures: A Brief History of the Theodosian Code’, The Classical Outlook 79 (2002), pp. 97-103. Hörandner, Wofram, ‘Ink’, in Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium, 3 vols,vol. 2 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991), p. 995. Isidore of Seville, Etymologies, ed. by Wallace M. Lindsay, Isidori Hispalensis episcopi Etymologiarum siue originum libri XX, 2 vols (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1911). Isidore of Seville, De Viris Illustribus, ed. by Carmen Codoñer, Isidoro de Sevilla, De Viris Illustribus. Estudio y edición crítica (Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca, 1964). Isidore of Seville, Histories of the Goths, ed. by Cristóbal Rodríguez Alonso, Isidoro de Sevilla. La Historia de los godos, vándalos y suevos. Estudio, edición crítica y traducción (León: Centro de Estudios e Investigación ‘San Isidoro’, 1975). Isidore of Seville, Chronica, ed. by José Carlos Martín-Iglesias, Isidori Hispalensis Opera. Chronica = CCSL 112 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2003). John of Biclar, Chronica, ed. by Theodor Mommsen, Chronica minora saec. IV. V. VI. VII., MGH AA 11 (Berlin: Weidmann, 1894). John of Biclar, Chronica, ed. by Julio Campos, Juan de Bíclaro, Obispo de Gerona. Su vida y su obra. Introducción, texto crítico y comentarios (Madrid: CSIC, 1960). John of Biclar, Chronica, ed. by Carmen Cardelle de Hartmann and Roger Collins, Victoris Tunnunensis Chronicon cum reliquiis ex Consularibus Caesaraugustanis et Iohannis Biclarensis Chronicon = CCSL 173A (Brepols: Turnhout, 2001). Jordanes, Getica, ed. by Theodore Mommsen, MGH AA 5, 1 (Berlin: Weidmann, 1882 [reimp. Münich 1982]). Jordanes, Getica, ed. by José María Sánchez Martín, Jordanes. Origen y gesta de los godos (Madrid: Cátedra, 2001). Kaegi, Walter, Heraclius, Emperor of Byzantium (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003). Kaldellis, Anthony, A Cabinet of Byzantine Curiosities (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017).

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Leander of Seville, Regula, ed. by J. Campos Ruiz, San Leandro, San Isidoro, San Fructuoso. Reglas monásticas de la España Visigoda = BAC 320 (Madrid: Católica, 1971). Marculf, Formulae, ed. by Karl Zeumer, Formulae Merowingici et Karolini Aevi, MGH Legum Sectio V. Formulae (Hannover: Hahn, 1886). Marculf, Formulae, trans. by Alice Rio, The Formularies of Angers and Marculf. Two Merovingian Legal Handbooks. Translated with an introduction and notes (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2008). Menander, Histories, ed. and trans. by Roger Blockley, The History of Menander the Guardsman. Introductory Essay, Text, Translation and Historiographical Notes (Liverpool: Francis Cairns, Arca. Classical and Medieval Text, Papers and Monographs 17, 1985). Mozarabic Chronicle of 754, ed. and trans. by José Eduardo López Pereira, Continuatio Isidoriana Hispana. Crónica Mozárabe de 754. Estudio, edición crítica y traducción (León: Centro de Estudios e Investigación ‘San Isidro’, 2009). Nechaeva, Ekaterina, Embassies-Negotiations-Gifts. Systems of East Roman Diplomacy in Late Antiquity (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2014). Papyrus Leiden II Z, in Franz Dölger, Facsimiles Byzantinischer Kaiserurkunden (München: Mittel- und neugriechisches Seminar der Universität München, 1931). Paulus Diaconus, History of the Lombards, ed. by Ludwig Bethmann and Georg Waitz, Pauli Historia Longobardorum, MGH SRL Saec. VI-IX, (Hannover: Hahn, 1878). Paulus Diaconus, History of the Lombards, trans. by Pedro Herrera Roldán, Historia de los Longobardos (Cádiz: Universidad de Cádiz, 2006). Pohl, Walter, Die Awaren: Ein Steppenvolk in Mitteleuropa 567-822 n. Chr. (Munich: C. H. Beck, 2nd edition, 2002). Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire, ed. by Arnold H.M. Jones, John Martindale and John Morris, 3 vols. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971-1992): vol. IIIA – IIIB. Reccaredus Rex, Epistula ad Gregorium, in ed. L. Hartmann, Gregorii I papae Registrum Epistolarum Libri VIII-XIV, MGH Epistolarum 2 (Berlin: Weidmann, 1899). Reinhold, Meyer, History of Purple as a Status Symbol in Antiquity (Brussels: Latomus, 1970). Shepard, Jonathan, ‘Information, Disinformation and Delay in Byzantine Diplomacy’, Byzantinische Forschungen: Internationale Zeitschrift fur Byzantinistik X (1985), pp. 234-293. Theophylact Simocatta, Historiae, ed. by Karl de Boor, Theophylacti Simocattae Historiae (Leipzig: Teubner, 1887; reed. by Peter Wirth, Stuttgart, 1972). Theophylact Simocatta, Historiae, ed. by Michael Whitby and Maria Whitby, The History of Theophylact Simocatta (Oxford: Clarendon Press,1986).

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Three Byzantine Military Treatises, ed. and trans. by George Dennis (Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks,1985). Vallejo Girvés, Margarita, ‘The Treaties between Justinian and Athanagild and the Legality of Byzantium’s Peninsular Holdings’, Byzantion 66, Nº1 (1996), pp. 208-218. Vallejo Girvés, Margarita, ‘”Un asunto de chantaje”: la familia de Atanagildo entre Metz, Toledo y Constantinopla’, POLIS. Revista de ideas y formas políticas de la Antigüedad 11 (1999), pp. 261-279. Vallejo Girvés, Margarita, ‘¿El Umbral del Imperio? La dispar fortuna de Hispania y las Columnas de Hércules en la literatura de época justinianea’, Erytheia. Revista de estudios bizantinos y neogriegos 23 (2002), pp. 39-75. Vallejo Girvés, Margarita, ‘Sensaciones bizantinas: las dos caídas de Jerusalén en la literatura del siglo VII’, Erytheia. Revista de estudios bizantinos y neogriegos 27 (2006), pp. 43-72. Vallejo Girvés, Margarita, Hispania y Bizancio. Una relación desconocida (Madrid: Akal, Colección universitaria, 2012). Vives, José, ed., Concilios visigóticos e hispano-romanos (Barcelona: CSIC, 1963). Wolf, Kenneth, Conquerors and Chronicles of Early Medieval Spain (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, second edition, 1990). Wood, Jamie, ‘Defending Byzantine Spain: Frontiers and Diplomacy’, Early Medieval Europe, 18 (2010), pp. 292-319.

About the author Margarita Vallejo Girvés is Professor of Ancient History at the University of Alcalá (Spain). Her main line of research is Visigoth-Byzantine relations, to which she has devoted her doctoral thesis, published various articles and chapters of books and, in 2012, a monograph: Hispania y Bizancio. Una relación desconocida, which has received excellent reviews. Her second line of research is the experience of exile in the Mediterranean during Late Antiquity. She has received funding for a number of research projects, published articles, and chapters in specialized journals and publishers of international prestige, and she has been invited to deliver lectures in various European universities.

8. Visigothic Currency: Recent Developments and Data for Its Study Ruth Pliego

Abstract Ten years after the publication of La moneda visigoda (2009), it is now possible to retrospectively analyse its data and present new developments that have taken place. The corpus has expanded with isolated archaeological findings, besides the new monetary treasure from Toledo and the detailed study of the treasure of Seville. The vast material mobilized by the numismatic market and the opportunity to view specimens in private collections are also highly important. All this is likely to substantially shift the panorama on Visigoth coinage: the number of known pieces, the issuing workshops and, moreover, the chronology of certain emissions. This chapter provides a full update of our current knowledge of Visigoth currency, including statistical data to facilitate projects of other disciplines. Keywords: Numismatics, Monetary Circulation, Visigothic Coinage, Coin Finds, Gold Coins, Tremissis

Introduction One of the most salient characteristics of Visigothic coinage is its scarcity, especially in comparison with that from other historical periods. The relatively small size of the available repertoire, however, only makes for a more attractive research subject, especially since it goes hand in hand with another important aspect: the large number of known dies, and thus of typological varieties, in proportion to the total number of specimens. As a result, new types are being discovered constantly and the repertory needs to be regularly updated.

Dell’ Elicine, E. and C. Martin (eds), Framing Power in Visigothic Society. Discourses, Devices, and Artefacts. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2020 doi 10.5117/9789463725903_ch08

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In the decade that followed the publication of La moneda visigoda,1 many new discoveries have occurred, increasing the number of known coins and providing new evidence concerning the issuing mints and the chronology of certain series. Some of these recent developments are the result of archaeological work, which has become more efficient in the discovery of coins through the use of metal detectors and it is possible to highlight the hoard identified on La Vega Baja site in Toledo.2 Also important have been developments in the numismatic market, which has brought forth some exceptional specimens, hitherto hidden from scholarly research in private collections. Especially significant in this regard is the Valle de Los Pedroches Hoard (Córdoba).3 The decade has also witnessed renewed interest in topics that lay almost forgotten, such as the early stages of Visigothic coinage, with the detailed study of the Calle Cuna Hoard, found in Seville in 19724 and its comparison with the hoard found at Zorita de los Canes (Guadalajara).5 Similarly, recent research is paying growing attention to money circulation in the Visigothic period, a topic that will be thoroughly examined in the present chapter.6 On the other hand, this same period has also witnessed the emergence of increasingly conclusive evidence of the use of bronze minimi coins and their production in the south and southeast of the Iberian Peninsula,7 including very recent archaeological finds in Levante.8 Similarly, archaeological finds in the northeast have raised the hypothesis that silver coinage may have been in circulation in the region during the Visigothic period, but more work is needed before this idea can be taken further.9 On a personal level, these years have given me the perspective to understand the needs of researchers, who, when engaging with the Visigothic period, are not familiar with its coinage; topics such as identity, power, authority, and symbolism have gained in prominence.10 Similarly, the growing interest in the transition period between the Visigoths and al-Andalus 1 Pliego, La moneda visigoda. 2 Caballero et al., El oro de los visigodos. 3 Pliego, ‘A Visigothic Hoard’. 4 Idem, ‘A Hoard of Late Roman’. 5 Bartlett et al., ‘Weight, Fineness’. See also Pliego, ‘La amonedación visigoda’. 6 Castro, ‘La circulación monetaria’ and ‘Absent Coinage’. Martin-Esquivel and BlázquezCerrato, ‘Hallazgos monetarios’. 7 Pliego, ‘The circulation of copper coins’. Martín et al., Numismática bizantina. Pliego, ‘Rethinking the minimi’. 8 Pliego and Caldés, ‘Nuevos hallazgos de monedas’. 9 Crusafont et al., ‘La Sèrie de plata’ and ‘Silver Visigothic Coinage’. 10 Pliego, ‘Tracing the social identity’; Pliego ‘Coins as symbol’. See also Steinbach, Imitation, Innovation und Imperialisierung.

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has led me to examine the coinage from these years in detail, sometimes in cooperation with researchers who specialize in the early Andalusi period.11 This chapter aims to summarize these recent developments. I shall proceed chronologically, outlining the most significant aspects of each period of Visigothic coinage. In addition, I present contemporary ideas, not only with regard to coinage, but from broader historiographical perspectives, and I use statistical data to facilitate the integration of numismatic information with other forms of historical evidence.

Recent developments concerning the early stages of Visigothic coinage: The reign of Leovigild Although, as previously noted, some advances have been made, the fact remains that the study and classif ication of Visigothic coinage before Leovigild is still a work in progress. The lack of a specific, in-depth study has contributed to some unwarranted ideas being adopted by certain – but not all – sectors of research.12 The main problem is that, since most coins are imitations – or pseudo-imitations, that is, the so-called pseudo-imperial series13– that still bear the effigy and name of the Roman emperor, the accuracy in the reporting of finds is especially critical and, to date, this has generally been lacking. Little evidence has emerged in recent years concerning these early series, the corpus of which is currently in preparation.14 The earliest coin series issued by Leovigild carried the transition between the previously noted ‘pseudo-imperial’ types – Leovigild’s very earliest types still followed this trend – and the Visigothic royal types. The changes were 11 Idem, ‘El tremis’; Pliego and Ibrahim, ‘La Ciudad’. 12 In this regard, French research has played a significant role by establishing typological criteria to distinguish Visigothic coins from those of other peoples, but basing these criteria in mixed hoards found in France which are often an inaccurate representation of broader realities. See Pliego, ‘La amonedación visigoda’, pp. 124-126. For the relationship between the ‘pectoral cross’ and Visigothic coinage see Pliego ‘Tracing the Social Identity’. 13 This expression was coined by Grierson and Blackburn (Medieval European Coinage I, p. 39) to refer to Visogothic tremisses with Victory with Palm and Crown on reverse. Cf. Steinbarch, Imitation, Innovation und Imperialisierung, p. 38. 14 Old material, for instance the essential collections hosted by the Bibliothèque Nationale de France and the American Numismatic Society – originally held at the Hispanic Society of America – as well as more recent evidence, such as the aforementioned hoards of Reccopolis (Guadalajara) and Calle Cuna (Seville), is currently being revised. Meanwhile, alongside Vincent Geneviève (INRAP, Toulouse), I am planning to re-examine the French hoards, especially the coin assemblage found in Roujan, Funding applications for this project are currently under review.

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visible from an early stage. For example, no Visigothic solidi carrying the name of Justin II (565-578) appear to have been struck. This corresponds to the reign of Liuva I (567-572), with Leovigild as co-regent from c. 568, and of Leovigild as only monarch from c. 572. The most radical changes to the tremissis came once Leovigild was sole ruler. With the exception of the reform undertaken by the king around 584, in the aftermath of the civil war against his rebel son Hermenegild, the evidence suggests that changes were being introduced haphazardly, rather than as a result of a systematic policy. Putting these unsystematic series into some sort of order involves the joint examination of several hoards, especially those from Reccopolis (Zorita de los Canes, Guadalajara)15 and Mérida,16 as well as isolated finds. Both of these hoards are very descriptive: the Reccopolis hoard, dated to c. 579, presents a clear picture of the moment when Leovigild decided to put his own name on coins – the first radical move away from the pseudo-imperial series – in what can be regarded as a test run for his monetary policy. This was followed by the stabilization of his coinage, with the introduction of types that bear the legend Rex Inclitus in the reverse. In this regard – and not counting the latest series – the Reccopolis hoard is unique and no similar specimens have been incorporated into the Visigoth corpus. Another characteristic feature of this hoard is that none of the coins in it present the type ‘cross on steps’ on the reverse or carry the name of the mint. In contrast, all the coins in the Mérida hoard present the type ‘cross on steps’ on the reverse and carry the name of their respective mints, with the exception of a single coin, which still carries the legend Rex Inclitus, which had come to replace the traditional legend Victoria Augg. This rare example, with the new reverse – ‘cross on steps’– and an obsolete legend – Rex Inclitus – may have been the result of the tardiness of a mint in adopting the new legends, which now included the name of the mint. The Mérida hoard is dated to c. 582, the date given by the Vitas Patrum Emeritensium for the ‘reconquest’ of Emerita by Leovigild and confirmed by the introduction of the type ‘cross on steps’ by Emperor Tiberius II (578-580) in his own coinage. The period between 579 and 582 led to the beginning of Hermenegild’s rebellion in Seville and Leovigild’s reaction, when he went to the capital of Baetica after taking control of Emerita, which had sided with the rebel. The mints represented in the Mérida hoard seem to trace Leovigild’s movements: Reccopolis; Toleto; Elvora; and Emerita, the latter being represented by the 15 Cabré, El tesorillo visigodo. 16 Mateos et al., ‘Un tesoro de tremises visigodos’.

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formula Emerita Victoria. However, the lineal sequence of events, marked by the emission of coin series and seemingly reflected in the hoard, should not be assumed for the entire Iberian Peninsula. This linearity becomes muddled by the presence of coins carrying Leovigild’s name and the Victoria-cicada type on the reverse, along with the name of the mint. Traditionally, only one such specimen from Toleto was known, mentioned for the first time by E. Flórez; this coin was part of his private collection and is now lost. The Victoria-cicada plus mint combination was also represented by two coins struck in Cesaragusta, which were published in the late twentieth century.17 However, recently, and almost by chance, I came across an exceptional example bearing the Victoria-cicada type and carrying the name of the Toleto mint (Pl. 9).18 In addition to having great sentimental value for the owner’s family, the coin can play a role in solving some of this complicated puzzle, while confirming E. Flórez’s reference.19

Pl. 9. Tremissis issued by Liuvigild with Victoria-cicada type on the reverse and mention of the Toleto mint.

Table 1 illustrates these early Visigothic issues. The last column indicates the percentage of the coins issued by each king presenting a given typology. However, any attempt to systematize the evolution of the types, as has sometimes been undertaken, can only lead to distorted conclusions not representing reality. Issues of all these type/legend combinations are known, but these ratios cannot be extrapolated to the whole of the Iberian Peninsula, as there are substantial regional differences. For instance, the series Curru – and probably the earliest of Leovigild’s coins carrying the 17 See Pliego, La moneda visigoda, II, nº 26 a-b. 18 As illustrated, the coin was mounted in a pendant, so its weight, 2.75 g, is not significant. 19 This specimen is not part of a larger collection, and its owners are not collectors, being instead an isolated heirloom kept by a Sevillian family whose origins are in the province of Jaén. The grandfather of the current owner gave this coin as a gift to his wife before marching to the front during the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939). The coin is mounted as a pendant, which has remained in possession of the family since then. I want to thank the owner for his authorisation to take a photograph of this piece.

186 Ruth Pliego Table 1. Synoptic table of Visigothic coinage issued by Liuvigild and Hermenegild. King

Observe

Reverse

Type

Type

Liuvigild

Hermenegild

Legend

Liuvigild

%

Emperor name Justin II Dn Ivstinvs

Victoria Augg

c. 568

–

–

Pseudo-legend (CVRRV)

Pseudo-legend (CVRRV)

c. 572

–

–

King name + title Ermenegildi Regis

Title + royal epithet Rex Inclitus

579

8

–

14

4.91%

22

7.72%

Emperor name Justin II Dn Ivstinvs

Profil bust

Legend

Start date Nº coins

VPW

King name + title Livvigildvs Rex (or Regis)

King name + title Leovigildvs Rex

King name + title Leovigildvs Rex

King name + title Leovigildvs Rex

Victoria Augg

4

1.40%

King name + title Leovigildvs Rex

Mint: Toleto/ Cesaragusta

4

1.40%

King name + title Leovigildus Rex

Title + royal epithet Rex Inclitus

47

16.49%

King name + title Leovigildus Rex

Title + royal epithet Rex Inclitus

1

0.35%

King name + title Leovigildus Rex

Mint: Cesaragusta, Barcinona, Tirasona, Toleto, Recopoli, Elvora

c. 581/2 74

25.96%

Mint with message: Emerita, Roda, Elisa, Ispali, Italica

582/3?

Mint + royal epithet

c. 584

119

41.75%

CSG

King name + title Leovigildus Rex Facing King name + title bust Leovigildus Rex

FB

c. 579/580?

c. 580/1?

legend Rex Inclitus – appear to have originated in the southern mints which, in my opinion, explains why Hermenegild’s coins began carrying the king’s name – in this case, the rebel king’s – even before Leovigild’s series did; I add another coin carrying Hermenegild’s name to the already known corpus (Pl. 10). According to this interpretation, Hermenegild’s daring forced his father to put his name on his own coin series.20 The multiple monetary changes introduced by Leovigild came to a head around 584, with the end of the civil war against Hermenegild. At this time, 20 This interesting period will be examined in Pliego, ‘The Numismatic Testimony.’ Recently, Steinbach (Imitation, Innovation und Imperialisierung, p. 87) has agreed with this idea, although, in my view, he supports it based on an inexistent numismatic evidence: ‘Today, however, not least due to the results of modern treasure investigations, it can be considered relatively certain that it was probably not Leovigild, but the rebellious Hermenegild who first put his name on the coins […].’

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Pl. 10. New tremissis issued by Hermenegild.

Visigothic coinage finally began to develop its own character. The following innovations belong to this prolific period of Visigothic royal series.

New and old Visigothic mints The title of this section refers to a common occurrence when dealing with the dynamic realities of Visigothic coinage: the emergence of hitherto unknown mints. The discovery of coins that carry the name of a new Visigothic mint, which may or may not be related to a known settlement, is not rare. My 2009 work already added at least eight new names to G. Miles’s classic list.21 It is, however, more common for new coins to provide evidence for the, hitherto uncertain, activity of a known mint during the reign of a given monarch. Although the former type may be found in any province within Visigothic Spain – e.g. Labeclosa, in Tarraconensis; Iliocrici in Carthaginensis; and, Karmona, in Baetica – most of these coins come from the provinces of Gallaecia and northern Lusitania. This region has its own characteristics, not least the large number of known mints, many of which, especially in Gallaecia, are not always easy to relate to a modern city. Among the latest to join the corpus, I would like to highlight those from Arofre, with a coin issued by Reccared I, and Vada, with a coin by Suinthila (Pl. 11). Concerning the latter, I have already suggested several hypotheses as to the location of the mint, including the Portuguese fregresías of Sao Tomé and Sao Pedro de Vade, both in Ponte da Barca, Viana do Castelo District, near Bracara. On the other hand, the section ‘Voces gallegas antiguas’, in Martín Sarmiento’s Catálogo de voces y frases de la lengua gallega, written between 1745 and 1755, reproduces the sentence ‘In ipso molino qui stat in ribulo Tomeza citra Mollia Vada prope villam de Ponteveteri’ (‘In the mill that is on the river Tomeza, on this side of Mollia Vada near the 21 Miles, The Coinage.

188 Ruth Pliego

Pl. 11. Tremissis issued by Reccared I in Arofre.

town of Ponteveteri’) from a document dated to 1220. The term ‘Mollia Vada’, which Martín Sarmiento relates to Mollavau, (modern Mollabao) refers, as the document clarif ies, to an urban area in the province of Pontevedra (Spain). Similarly, the term Arofre can be associated with two different towns called Arufe, one in the district of Porto, northern Portugal, and the other in the parish of Loureiro, in the modern province of Pontevedra. Machado’s22 onomastic dictionary suggests that the word Arufe is Germanic, probably Suebi, in origin. According to J.A. Correa,23 the word is an anthroponym in genitive in -i, common in the Germanic toponymy of the Iberian Peninsula, which latter evolved into -e, but he is uncertain concerning the Germanic name to which it could be related. Although Correa admits that, in theory, it is possible for Arufe to have evolved from Arofre, he thinks that the natural evolution of the toponym would be Arofri,24 Arofre being too advanced for Reccared I’s period. However, in my opinion, Visigothic coins cannot be expected to follow strict rules differentiating an -e from an -i, and the legend in the coins cannot, therefore, be used as evidence that the change in the toponym has taken place according to these rules.25 Recently, I have also published a tremissis issued by Gundemar in the mint of Inceio, in Gallaecia (Pl. 12).26 The novelty in this case lies with the issuing king, for the mint has been known for a long time through a single known coin issued by Sisebut and found in Castro de Tintinolho, a fortified settlement 22 Machado, Diccionário onomástico. 23 I want to thank J. A. Correa for his assistance in deciphering the complex Visigothic toponyms. 24 In Correa’s opinion, the -o would have closed in -u through the influx of the -i, and the second -r would have disappeared by dissimilation with the first. In his opinion, the key of the matter is the lack of a record for the anthroponym Arofrus, out of which, in his opinion, the toponym would have evolved. 25 The oscillation between the -i and the -e is usual especially in the reigns that range from Leovigild to Sisenand (Correa, ‘El latín de las monedas visigodas’, p. 224; see also Pliego, La moneda visigoda, I, p. 125). 26 Pliego, ‘Inceio, ceca visigoda’.

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occupied between the Iron Age and the Visigothic period.27 J. Elias Garcia interpreted the legend on the reverse as In Celo, having followed a formula used in other Galician mints (e.g. Tude – In Tvde Victor) – thus identifying the coin with Celio, a church under the authority of Bracara’s diocese, in the concelho of Celorico de Basto.28 Mateu y Llopis pointed out that, in fact, the coin seems to carry the legend Inceio, suggesting, correctly in my opinion, that this refers to O Incio, a village in the province of Lugo.29 G. Miles mentions that he never saw the coin, so he did not have the means to decide between these hypotheses.30 In my opinion, however, had he seen it, he could not have failed to appreciate the similarities between this coin and the one issued by Sisebut in Lugo’s mint, to the point that it could be argued that the dies had been made by the same hand.31

Pl. 12. Tremissis issued by Gundemar in Inceio.

I have already pointed out the importance of coins currently in private collections. A few years ago, I had the chance to study a coin issued by Reccared I (586-601) in Dertosa32 (Tortosa, Tarragona). Although the existence of this mint has been known from at least the times of E. Flórez, the whereabouts of many of the specimens mentioned in older works have long remained unknown.33 Eventually, however, many of these coins find their way into 27 See recently Tente, Martín Viso, ‘O Castro do Tintinolho’. 28 A municipality located in the south end of the Braga district, in the area between the Douro and Trás-os-Montes, which has also been identif ied as Ptolemy’s Celiobriga (II, 5). See Elias Garcia, ‘Un triente inédito’. See Celio, in Parochiale Sueuum, p. 28. 29 Mateu y Llopis, ‘Recensión a E. A. García’. This settlement is found between the Monforte depression and the O Courel hill range, its location adjacent to one of the few sources of limestone in Galicia. The settlement was known of old for its marble quarries. See also Pliego, La moneda visigoda, I, pp. 136-137. 30 Miles, The coinage, pp. 131-132. 31 Despite these discussions around the toponym, recently Castro (‘Absent Coinage’, p. 37) and Martín-Esquivel and Blázquez-Cerrato (‘Hallazgos monetarios’, p. 166, fig. 8) record the legend as Celo. 32 Pliego, ‘Dertosa, ceca visigoda’. 33 Flórez, Medallas de las Colonias, p. 210.

190 Ruth Pliego

auction catalogues. The most important novelty in this regard is a coin issued by Wittiza in the mint of Eliberri, the activity of which during this king’s reign was hitherto unknown, which has recently been published in the catalogue of a Spanish auction house (Pl. 13).34 Many iconographic types and legends are known through coins that have come to light in similar circumstances. In this regard, it is possible to highlight a series of hitherto unknown types, including a coin issued by Egica in Tarracona (Pl. 14) and two coins issued by Wittiza in Egitania (Pl. 15) and Emerita (Pl. 16).35 Concerning legends, attention must be paid to a coin issued by Chindaswinth in Cordoba, one issued by Tulga in Barbi, and one issued by Suinthila in Tirasona. Some of these coins greatly enrich the existing corpus, for they fit old descriptions that are only imperfectly drawn or not illustrated at all. This is, for example, the case with a coin issued by Chindaswinth in Cordoba36 and another issued by Egica and Wittiza in Ispali,37 whose descriptions are included in the catalogue of the Museo Arqueológico Nacional’s old collection, which was greatly diminished during the Civil War.38

Pl. 13. Tremissis issued by Wittiza in Eliberri.

Pl. 14. Tremissis issued by Egica in Tarracona.

34 Áureo and Calicó 318 (17-10-2018) 1080. 35 Idem 305 (8-3-2018) 1063. 36 Pliego, La moneda visigoda, vol. II, no. 539 h.1. The following reference corresponds to an example presented in a 1949 work by F. Mateu y Llopis about the mint of Córdoba. The identification of the coin is uncertain, although, based on the image, it could be the same coin found in that work. 37 Pliego, La moneda visigoda, vol. II, no. 742 e.1. 38 Mateu y Llopis, Catálogo de las Monedas.

Visigothic Currenc y: Recent Developments and Data for Its Study

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Pl. 15. Tremissis issued by Wittiza in Egitania.

Pl. 16. Tremissis issued by Wittiza in Emerita.

New Visigothic hoards and isolated finds The last decade has witnessed the discovery of multiple Visigothic coin assemblages. In the appendix to my 2009 work, I examined the already mentioned hoard, dated to the reign of Chintila, found near Toledo in 2006.39 Now, I want to focus on a closed hoard from the reign of Tulga found in the Pedroches Valley, in the province of Córdoba. 40 These hoards have greatly increased the coin repertoires for their respective periods; as previously noted, these kings’ short rules had, hitherto, yielded only a limited number of coins. In addition to the increase in the absolute number of coins, the new hoards include types that were previously unknown. The most significant novelty is a coin issued by Chintila in Tarracona, a mint whose activity during the rule of this monarch was unknown until the discovery of the hoard (Pl. 17). On the other hand, that coin ensemble confirms the accuracy of the description of a series of peculiar pieces dated to the reigns of Chintila and Tulga, recorded 39 This hoard was found in Vega Baja, Toledo, in 2006, and consists of coins ranging from the reign of Sisebut (621-631) to that of Chintila (636-639) (Caballero et al., El oro de los visigodos). See also Pliego, ‘La moneda visigoda: Anexo I’. 40 Pliego, ‘A Visigothic Hoard’. The circumstances of the find are unknown. It is only known that the hoard was found in the 1940s or 1950s, and that, until now, it has remained in the possession of the same family from Córdoba.

192 Ruth Pliego

as part of the La Grassa hoard, found in 1816 in Constantí (Tarragona). 41 Although a small number of the coins included in this hoard found their way to the collection of the Real Academia de la Historia, most of the specimens were lost, and the record of the hoard is the only known evidence for their existence. A series issued by Tulga in Tucci (Baetica), for instance, was known only, through the description of one specimen included in the hoard found in La Grassa42 prior to the examination of the Los Pedroches hoard (Pl. 18).

Pl. 17. Tremissis issued by Chintila in Tarracona.

Pl. 18. Tremissis issued by Tulga in Tucci.

As noted, the most recent pieces belong to the reign of Tulga, who was appointed co-regent by his father Chintila in 639, in defiance of the royal appointment rules enacted by the fourth Council of Toledo during the reign of Sisenand. 43 Despite his short rule, Tulga had time to issue coinage in several mints. Exceptionally, most of the known examples (fifty) were struck in Cordoba, which, in this regard, was well ahead of other important mints such as Emerita, Toleto, and Ispali44 (11, 11, and 9, respectively), which generally feature as the most active mints in any given reign. It has been argued that the Visigothic court did not have a fixed seat45 which, in addition 41 See idem, La moneda visigoda, vol. I, p. 241-245. 42 In addition to an unconfirmed reference to another example in the Hermitage, St. Petersburg. 43 Fredegar, Chron., 82. 44 See Pliego, La moneda visigoda, vol. II, p. 37. 45 García Moreno, España, 702-719, p. 130.

Visigothic Currenc y: Recent Developments and Data for Its Study

193

to the appointment of Tulga as co-regent with his father, 46 might lead us to think that Tulga could have had his court in Cordoba, or at least that this city played an especially prominent role in his reign. 47 Concerning isolated finds, they are not abundant, but some of the most recent must be mentioned, including: the discovery, during the excavation of the necropolis of El Soto (Illana, Guadalajara),48 of a coin issued by Egica in Toleto, currently in the Museum of Guadalajara; a coin found in the necropolis of El Carpio (Toledo) issued by Chindaswinth in Toleto; and a coin issued by Reccared I in Cesaragusta, found in Castrillón (Asturias).49 In recent years, the discovery in Alameda (Malaga) of a rare coin issued by Recceswinth in Bracara has also been reported. This interesting piece, which unfortunately was found out of context, presents a type that, until this discovery, was not known to have been issued by this king at the Bracara mint (Pl. 19).50 All these finds are being examined in the framework of a project51 that aims to record all known Visigothic coins and that will, hopefully, result in a comprehensive publication. For now, the data provided by these isolated finds will be incorporated in the arguments to be discussed in the following sections.

Pl. 19. Tremissis issued by Recesswinth in Bracara.

46 Generally, these coregencies involved a division of the territory; as such, Liuva and Leovigild separated the Gallic and Iberian Visigothic territories, while Egica, according to some sources, made Witiza co-ruler in charge of the province of Gallaecia. 47 This city, which was to play an important role in the history of the Visigothic kingdom, may have increased in importance during this period to the detriment of Emerita. The road that linked Córdoba and Toleto, according to the Antonine Itinerary, which went through Mérida, must have had a more direct and practical alternative, perhaps hinted at by the Exquisitio milliarium civitatum, which probably explains the prosperity of the territory traversed by the latter (see Gozalbes Cravioto, ‘Una aproximación’). 48 The excavation was directed by C. Vara Izquierdo and J. Martínez Peñarroya. CASTRVM patrimonio histórico S.L. Published in Pliego, ‘La presencia de tesoros’, p. 525. 49 To date, this f ind has only been reported in the media (see, for instance. http://www. arqueologiamedieval.com/noticias/8899/una-moneda-de-recaredo-en-gauzon-castrillonasturias) (Accessed on August 14, 2019). 50 I want to thank J. M. Compaña Prieto for providing me with information about this piece. 51 The project is Framing in the Late Antiquity and Early Medieval Economy (FLAME) (Princeton University).

194 Ruth Pliego

Update on the coin corpus from the Kingdom of Toledo The previous sections bear witness to the new discoveries that are constantly increasing the Visigothic monetary corpus. In 2009, I calculated that there were approximately 7413 Visigothic coins on record,52 a considerable increase with regard to G. Miles’s 1952 tally (c. 3500) which, for its part, recorded substantially more coins than E. Flórez and A. Heiss.53 Barely two years after the publication of La moneda visigoda, I published a first appendix54 that, along with well-known types, included peculiar specimens, such as a tremissis issued by Hermenegild – of whom only seven coins were hitherto known –55 and information about several new mints. However, the most significant contribution of this appendix was the one concerning the aforementioned hoard of La Vega Baja, Toledo, which was very rich in numismatic novelties,56 as well as data pertaining to the collection of Visigothic coins in the Mérida museum; overall, this added 130 coins to the corpus.57 More recently, the most important addition concerns the also mentioned hoard of Los Pedroches (Córdoba).58 Between 2009 and 2016, the Visigothic monetary corpus increased by approximately 140 specimens,59 bringing the total to 7553, and since 2016 the tally has gone up to 7720 coins, 4.14% more than in 2009. Although the proportional representation of each king has barely changed – coins that name Suinthila (1762; 70 coins were found in 2018) and Sisebut (1076; 44 found in 2018) are still the most common – the greatest increase from 2009 concerns Chintila (25.62% increase) and Tulga (16.16%), because the hoards of La Vega Baja (Toledo) and Los Pedroches (Córdoba) were, as noted previously, buried during the reigns of these kings. The known coins of Agila II have recently been increased by two new specimens – from fourteen to 52 In La moneda visigoda, vol. II, 46 the tally was a little higher (7434), as it accepted several unconfirmed reports as valid. 53 Flórez, Medallas de las Colonias; Heiss, Description générale des monnaies. In 2006 J. Vico, Mª C. Cores and G. Cores published the Corpus Nummorum Visigothorum (from now, CNV) which, despite its title, is but a catalogue of types. On the confusion between corpus and catalogue of types, see note 79. 54 Pliego, ‘La moneda visigoda: Anexo I’. 55 Ibid., p. 217, numbers 62 b.2. 56 Caballero et al., El oro de los visigodos. Ver Pliego, ‘La moneda visigoda: Anexo I’, p. 210-212. 57 Actually, the number of new additions could be argued to be 131, but I must discard a coin allegedly issued by Chindaswinth in Eliberri, which turned out to be a modern fake (see Pliego, ‘La moneda visigoda: Anexo I’, p. 231, nº 1136A). 58 Pliego, ‘A Visigothic Hoard’. 59 Some of the new additions were published in Pliego, ‘La presencia de tesoros y hallazgos’.

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195

sixteen – and those of Hermenegild has gone up by one, after one specimen was found in 2017, bringing this king’s grand total to nine. No additions have been made to the repertoires of Reccared II, Iudila, Suniefred, and Roderic. On the other hand, the discovery of the major Baetican hoards has had a considerable impact in the overall picture, as I shall show shortly. Finds of this sort are but one of the reasons why extreme caution should be exercised; it is unwise to indulge in excessively categorical conclusions on the basis of the scanty Visigothic material on record. Although there is no doubt that many Visigothic coins will have escaped the academic radar, the Visigothic monetary corpus is, as illustrated in Table 2, not excessively large, but very dynamic, as the changes undergone by the distribution of these coins since 2009 indicate. In this sense, in a recent work in which I tried to organize the confusing monetary evidence of the last years of the regnum,60 the imprecision implied by the enumeration of the active mints under a certain reign was noted. Considering the period following the death of Wittiza in 710: the majority of coins have been found in Baetica, with 72 coins, 31.17% of all Wittiza coins (231); Cordoba was the most widely represented mint (45 coins; 19.48%), followed by Emerita (37 coins; 16.02%) and Toleto (27 coins; 11,69%). The picture presented by G. Miles in 1952 was totally different. At that time, the most represented province was Tarraconensis (25 coins; 30.86%), but Toleto was the most common mint (18 coins; 22.22%), followed by Gerunda and Emerita, (12 coins each; 14.81%). In contrast, Baetica had yielded only 16.05% of the total (13 coins) and Cordoba 8.64% (7 coins).61 Interpretations concerning mint activity during the reign of Wittiza have been turned upside-down in little more than half a century. Despite this, attempts have been made to draw conclusions from hoards and isolated finds, concerning coin circulation and, by inference, economic issues such as money supply, fiscal policies and commercial networks, among others.62 Recent years have witnessed a renewed interest in coin circulation in different areas of the regnum,63 so here this matter will be briefly addressed. 60 Idem, ‘El tremis de los últimos años’. 61 See ibid., ‘El tremis de los últimos años’, Fig. 15. Now here, updated data. 62 See on this, Pliego, La moneda visigoda, vol. I, chapter VIII. More about taxation in Martin Viso, ‘La moneda y la articulación política’; from another perspective, see Fernández, ‘Statehood, Taxation’. 63 Basically, the central and north-western regions. See Castro, ‘La circulación monetaria’ and ‘Absent Coinage’; Martín-Esquivel and Blázquez-Cerrato, ‘Hallazgos monetarios en el área lusitana’.

1032

40

35

201

0

660

442

Sisebut (612-621)

Reccared II (621)

Suintila (621-631)

Sisenand (631-636)

3458

9

Agila II (711-714)

Total

1

80

Witiza (702-710)

12

216

E&W (695-702)

Sunifredus (711?)

168

Egica (687-702)

Roderic (711)

131

172

Wamba (672-680)

247

Recceswinth (653-672)

Erwig (680-687)

13

Ch&Recc (649-653)

7413

13

13

2

211

505

314

282

232

378

22

268

99

48

152

Tulga (639-642)

Chindaswinth (642-649)

121

58

Chintila (636-639)

3

2

Iudila (632)

598

1692

182

339

130

Witteric (603-610)

Gundemar (610-612)

675

109

40

7

276

441

7

Hermenegild (579-584)

Reccared I (586-601)

193

Liuvigild (572-586)

Total 2009

Liuva II (601-603)

Total 1952

King

7553

15

13

2

218

512

320

283

236

380

22

270

101

130

3

611

1730

40

1063

184

341

111

681

8

279

Total 2012-2016

7721

16

13

2

231

535

327

284

241

386

23

275

115

152

3

622

1762

40

1076

185

341

113

685

9

285

Total 2018

–

0,18%

0,18%

0,03%

2,85%

6,81%

4,24%

3,80%

3,13%

5,10%

0,30%

3,62%

1,34%

1,63%

0,04%

8,07%

22,82%

0,54%

13,92%

2,46%

4,57%

1,47%

9,11%

0,09%

3,72%

% 2009

Table 2. Quantitative representation of Visigothic kings in the monetary corpus.

–

0,20%

0,17%

0,03%

2,89%

6,78%

4,24%

3,75%

3,12%

5,03%

0,29%

3,57%

1,34%

1,72%

0,04%

8,09%

22,90%

0,53%

14,07%

2,44%

4,51%

1,47%

9,02%

0,11%

3,69%

% 2012-2016

–

0,21%

0,17%

0,03%

2,99%

6,93%

4,24%

3,68%

3,12%

5,00%

0,30%

3,56%

1,49%

1,97%

0,04%

8,06%

22,82%

0,52%

13,94%

2,40%

4,42%

1,46%

8,87%

0,12%

3,69%

% 2018

4263

7

1

1

151

319

159

112

110

139

10

123

67

94

1

180

1102

40

875

150

211

73

244

2

92

Increase Since 1952 (Nº coins)

123,28%

77,78%

8,33%

100,00%

188,75%

147,69%

94,64%

65,12%

83,97%

56,28%

76,92%

80,92%

139,58%

162,07%

50,00%

40,72%

166,97%

-

435,32%

428,57%

162,31%

182,50%

55,33%

28,57%

47,67%

Increase Since 1952 (%)

196 Ruth Pliego

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The impact of hoards and isolated finds in the Visigothic monetary corpus Before continuing, it is worth briefly reviewing the numismatic material available, concerning both hoards and isolated finds. To date, 20 hoards dating between the reigns of Leovigild and Agila II have been recorded (Table 3). I have taken into consideration the hoards found in La Hermida (Santander) and El Real de La Jara (Seville), as belonging to the reign of Leovigild, despite the fact that their composition is only very imperfectly known,64 the present whereabouts of most of the coins being a mystery; in addition, it must be taken into consideration that for most of the Visigothic period, including the reign of Leovigild, Santander fell outside the areas over which the Visigoths had effective control.65 In this category, I have also included coins found in associated contexts in El Bovalar (I, II and III) and Tolmo de Minateda (ten coins in Bovalar I, five in Bovalar II, four in Bovalar III, and also four in Tolmo de Minateda). Lone coins found in these sites have been included as isolated finds. I have not included the hoards of Bordeaux and Mons, not only because they were found in France and Belgium, respectively, but because they involve mixed hoards with a predominance of Frankish coins.66 Also not included are the Portuguese hoards of Braga and Rio Maior, and those from Almonte (Huelva) and Seville II, because their composition is almost completely unknown – at most, there is an uncertain reference to a single piece.67 As illustrated in Table 3, the sizes of these hoards vary widely; the biggest ones are those found in Fuentes de Andalucía and La Capilla, followed by the ones found in La Grassa, Sotiel Coronada, and El Abusejo.

64 See Barral La circulation, pp. 82-86. 65 The hoard of La Hermida owes its name to the village, belonging to the Cantabrian municipality of Peñarrubia, where it was found. The hoard of Real de la Jara was found in the vicinity of that Sevillian town, Monesterio in Badajoz and Santa María de la Zapatera in Huelva. Composed by 15 or 20 tremisses to name of Leovigild and Justinus II, of them only two could be studied, both of Leovigild (see Barral La circulation, pp. 82-86). 66 Moreover, the canonical composition of the Bordeaux hoard is, in fact, but a reconstruction by Lafaurie (‘À propos de la trouvaille de Bordeaux’), and a peculiar one at that, ranging in chronology from the reign of Leovigild to that of Egica and Wittiza (see Pliego, La moneda visigoda, vol. I, pp. 246-248). 67 Braga (Reccared I); Rio Maior (Suinthila); Almonte (Chindaswinth) and Sevilla II (Sisenand), The latter and the La Capilla hoard (Carmona, Seville) could be the same. See Pliego, La moneda visigoda, vol. I, 234-241.

198 Ruth Pliego Table 3. Visigothic monetary hoards. Hoards

Dates

Hermida - Santander Recópolis - Guadalajara Mérida Garrovillas - Cáceres Jerez de los Caballeros - Badajoz Fuentes de Andalucía - Sevilla La Capilla - Carmona, Sevilla Mauleón - France Vega Baja - Toledo

Liuvigild (572-586)

Valle de los Pedroches - Córdoba La Grassa - Constantí, Tarragona Sotiel-Coronada - Huelva Zaragoza Toledo I Abusejo - Salamanca La Condenada - Cuenca Tolmo de Minateda Hellín, Albacete Bovalar I - Serós, Segriá, Lérida Bovalar II - Serós, Segriá, Lérida Bovalar III - Serós, Segriá, Lérida Total

Province Find Outside ant. 579 c. 578-579 Carthaginensis c. 582-583 Lusitania Lusitania Lusitania

Discov. Nº coins Nº coins Date (approx.) registered in the corpus 1910 1946* 2003* 1731 1829

15 90 20 21 24

2 11 20 5 7

Baetica

1980s

4000

83

Baetica

1891

1000

765

Outside 1896? Carthaginensis 2006*

5 31

5 31

Baetica

2017

46

46

Tarraconensis 1816

800

124

Baetica

1816

300

1

Witiza (702-710)

Tarraconensis Carthaginensis Lusitania Carthaginensis Carthaginensis

1794 1957 1932 2002* 2003*

35 8 111 15 4

22 8 110 15 4

Agila II (711-714)

Tarraconensis 1980*

10

10

Tarraconensis 1983*

5

5

Tarraconensis 1984*

4

4

6544

1278

Reccared I (586-601) Suintila (621-631) Sisenand (631-636) Chintila (636-639) Tulga (639-642) Recceswinth (653-672) Wamba (672-680) E&W (695-702)

* in date: retrieved in archaeological excavations.68

40% of these hoards were found in the course of archaeological excavations, but these are generally small in size, with the exception of the Reccopolis hoard, which is composed of approximately 90 pieces. In general, more recent discoveries are better known, although this is not an infallible rule, as illustrated by two Baetican hoards: while a large number of the pieces found in connection with the La Capilla hoard, discovered in 1891, have

68 Not necessary in stratigraphy.

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been preserved,69 the Fuentes hoard was sold in different European auction houses between the late 1980s and early 1990s. Only 24.04% of coins found within hoards have been securely recorded, the proportion dropping sharply with regard to some of the major hoards: Fuentes de Andalucía, La Grassa and Sotiel-Coronada. As such, about a signif icant number of hoards is known, most of which are dated to the final years of the regnum, about which, as noted, I had the opportunity to write at length a few years ago.70 As illustrated in Table 3, of a total of 6544 coins reported as being found in connection with Visigothic hoards, only 1278 are duly recorded in the corpus; this figure includes not only known specimens, but uncertain reports from old hoard inventories, for example in relation to the La Capilla and La Grassa hoards71 (see the graphic representation of this discrepancy in Fig. 1). In comparison to hoards, the contribution made by isolated finds to the overall corpus is puny. Both my 2009 work and the 2012 appendix recorded isolated finds,72 although even then I had strong reservations, not only because of their scarcity, but especially because of the very uncertain circumstances surrounding their discovery. On the other hand, although the number of coins found as a result of archaeological excavation has grown, it is still low, so most known Visigothic isolated finds correspond to old references, especially those recorded by X. Barral.73 This last work, however, is ridden with problems, quite apart from the fact that it is not up to date. Without wishing to question its value, Barral’s work aptly illustrates many of the problems that must be faced today when studying Visigothic coinage: while the examination of hoards can be coherently arranged, this is not the case concerning isolated finds. Most references are old and hard to check. It is also remarkable that many descriptions are accompanied by illustrations of fake coins, some of which are crudely made and have been known to be fakes for a long time.74 This leads me to think that the author was not familiar with Visigothic coinage, something that is easily amended 69 It was purchased by A. Huntington, who deposited it in the Hispanic Society of America, where it was, luckily, reconstructed by G. Miles. 70 Pliego, La moneda visigoda, vol. I, chapter IX. 71 With the only exception of the Reccopolis hoard which, despite being known in its full extent, only the pieces of Leovigild’s series in its name have been included. 72 Pliego, La moneda visigoda and ‘La moneda visigoda: Anexo I’. 73 Barral, La circulation. 74 For instance, the author records six coins from the reign of Leovigild (numbers 46-51), with three illustrations, two of which represent fakes, the third being but a drawing (see Barral, La circulation, pp. 176-177, esp. XXIV, 46, 48, 51). Concerning Hermenegild, the situation hardly improves; three references are recorded in Barral’s book, which are illustrated by two photographs, both of which depict fakes (Barral, La circulation, p. 177, esp. XXV, 53-54).

200 Ruth Pliego

Fig. 1. Graphic representation of the number of coins in each hoard (sometimes the figure is only approximate), and the number of coins registered in the corpus.

when dealing with hoards, but is a problem when analysing isolated finds. That work also over-represents finds from Lusitania, probably because Visigothic coins have traditionally attracted more interest in Portugal than they have in Spain. This distortion severely hampers the interpretation of the data, as it shall be shown (see Fig. 5). Table 4 presents data about isolated finds and Fig. 2 presents how many of these references have resulted in corpus entries (81.54%), which is much higher than for hoard-related finds, despite the fact that the provenance of many of the isolated finds is uncertain and that they are often imperfectly described. It is worth noting that the most widely represented Visigothic king, Reccared I, features in the list with barely 30 coins. The aggregate of isolated finds and hoard-related corpus entries is still a fraction of the total number of known Visigothic coins; the rest having been found in circumstances that have escaped the academic scrutiny. Fig. 3 presents the comparison of the number of coins known to have been found either in isolation or as part of hoards, grouped by ruler and with the total number of coins known for each monarch. Table 5 expands this data further. Based on these f igures, it is clear that hoards offset the benchmark for Visigothic repertoires, especially between the reigns of Suinthila and Sisenand, both concerning pieces that can be securely associated with hoards and those that are less certain. Suinthila and Sisebut are the most widely represented Visigothic kings (1762 and 1076 coins respectively, i.e. 22.82% and 13.94% of the total), which can be explained by the magnitude of two major hoards found in the province of Seville (La Capilla and Fuentes de Andalucía). Another example of the impact of hoards on the corpus is the

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Table 4. Isolated finds by reign. King Liuvigild (572-586) Hermenegild (579-584) Reccared I (586-601) Liuva II (601-603) Witteric (603-610) Gundemar (610-612) Sisebut (612-621) Reccared II (621) Suintila (621-631) Sisenand (631-636) Iudila (632) Chintila (636-639) Tulga (639-642) Chindaswinth (642-649) Ch&Recc (649-653) Recceswinth (653-672) Wamba (672-680) Erwig (680-687) Egica (687-702) E&W (695-702) Witiza (702-710) Sunifredus (711?) Roderic (711) Agila II (711-714) Total

Nº isolated coins

Nº of registered isolated coins

7 1 27 3 4 1 9 0 15 4 0 3 6 8 2 14 7 10 22 24 16 1 4 7 195

3 0 19 2 4 1 8 0 14 4 0 1 5 8 2 10 4 9 19 24 11 1 3 7 159

Fig. 2. Comparison of the number of isolated finds published and the number represented in the corpus.

202 Ruth Pliego

Fig. 3. Isolated finds, hoard-related finds, and total number of known coins, grouped by monarch.

substantial presence of the rather brief king Sisenand (636-639), represented by as many as 622 coins (8.06%), fourth in the list, behind Suinthila, Sisebut, and Reccared I (8.87%), owing to his heavy presence in the La Capilla hoard and the lucky circumstances that led to its preservation in the collection of the American Numismatic Society.75 Other hoards were not so fortunate: e.g. the La Grassa hoard (Constantí, Tarragona), dated to the mid-seventh century, which was reported to contain around 800 coins; and the SotielCoronada hoard (Calañas, Huelva), dated to Wamba’s reign and made up, according to the most reliable reports, of approximately 300 coins, only one of which has been securely identified.76 On the other hand, these hoards are the only numismatic evidence for the ephemeral rule of Reccared II and that of the usurper Iudila; in fact, all the known coins by the former were part of the Fuentes de Andalucía hoard, and the three known coins by the latter were part of La Capilla hoard. Concerning those coins the provenance of which is known, and with the exception of the last two kings,77 Suinthila is again at the top of the list, with 32.36% of all references – although this amounts to only 6.02% of the total of specimens registered in the corpus (see Table 5). It is illustrative that the 75 Paradoxically, despite the high number of known specimens, Sisenand’s coins are very rare among collectors because most of the known specimens are in the collection held by the Numismatic Society. 76 Engel, ‘Godet de noria’. See a piece of this hoard in Macías et al., ‘Minería antigua en SotielCoronada’, p. 39, fig. 13. 77 All of whose coins have a known provenance, with the aforementioned caveats.

7721

16

Agila II (711-714)

Total

2

231

Witiza (702-710)

13

535

E&W (695-702)

Roderic (711)

327

Egica (687-702)

Sunifredus (711?)

241

284

Wamba (672-680)

386

Recceswinth (653-672)

Erwig (680-687)

23

Ch&Recc (649-653)

0,21%

0,17%

0,03%

2,99%

6,93%

4,24%

3,68%

3,12%

5,00%

0,30%

3,56%

1,49%

115

275

Tulga (639-642)

Chindaswinth (642-649)

1,97%

0,04%

8,06%

22,82%

152

622

Sisenand (631-636)

Chintila (636-639)

1762

Suintila (621-631)

0,52%

3

40

Reccared II (621)

13,94%

2,40%

4,42%

1,46%

8,87%

0,12%

3,69%

Iudila (632)

185

1076

341

Witteric (603-610)

Gundemar (610-612)

113

Liuva II (601-603)

Sisebut (612-621)

685

9

285

1437

13

3

1

38

97

58

39

9

22

2

85

23

36

3

337

465

40

53

6

17

5

46

0

39

0.90%

0.21%

0.07%

2.64%

6.75%

4.04%

2.71%

0.63%

1.53%

0.14%

5.92%

1.60%

2.51%

0.21%

23.45%

32.36%

2.78%

3.69%

0.42%

1.18%

0.35%

3.20%

0.00%

2.71%

Total coins % over Total nº coins % coins by king total with origin with origin

Reccared I (586-601)

Hermenegild (579-584)

Liuvigild (572-586)

King

6284

3

10

1

193

438

269

245

232

364

21

190

92

116

0

285

1297

0

1023

179

324

108

639

9

246

Total nº coins without origin

0.05%

0.16%

0.02%

3.07%

6.97%

4.28%

3.90%

3.69%

5.79%

0.33%

3.02%

1.46%

1.85%

0.00%

4.54%

20.64%

0.00%

16.28%

2.83%

5.16%

1.72%

10.17%

0.14%

3.92%

81.25%

23.08%

50.00%

16.45%

18.13%

17.74%

13.73%

3.73%

5.70%

8.70%

30.91%

20.00%

23.68%

100.00%

54.18%

26.39%

100.00%

4.93%

3.26%

4.99%

4.42%

6.72%

0.00%

13.68%

% coins without % coins with origin by king origin by over total king without origin

18.75%

76.92%

50.00%

83.55%

81.87%

82.26%

86.27%

96.27%

94.30%

91.30%

69.09%

80.00%

76.32%

0.00%

45.82%

73.61%

0.00%

95.07%

96.74%

95.01%

95.58%

93.28%

100.00%

86.32%

% coins without origin by king

Table 5. Visigothic monetary finds (hoards and isolated finds) and their impact on the monetary corpus.

18.61%

0.17%

0.04%

0.01%

0.49%

1.26%

0.75%

0.51%

0.12%

0.28%

0.03%

1.10%

0.30%

0.47%

0.04%

4.37%

6.02%

0.52%

0.69%

0.08%

0.22%

0.06%

0.60%

0.00%

0.51%

81.39%

0.04%

0.13%

0.01%

2.50%

5.67%

3.48%

3.17%

3.01%

4.72%

0.27%

2.46%

1.19%

1.50%

0.00%

3.69%

16.80%

0.00%

13.25%

2.32%

4.20%

1.40%

8.28%

0.12%

3.19%

% coins % coins with origin without over total origin over total

2.06%

0.09%

0.04%

0.01%

0.14%

0.31%

0.25%

0.12%

0.05%

0.13%

0.03%

0.10%

0.06%

0.01%

0.00%

0.05%

0.18%

0.00%

0.10%

0.01%

0.05%

0.03%

0.25%

0.00%

0.04%

% incidence of isolated findings in the corpus

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203

204 Ruth Pliego

provenance of only 26.39% of Suinthila’s coins is relatively securely known, especially considering that this king leads the ranking in this regard. In order to summarize this issue, attention must be paid to the last columns in Table 5, which present data concerning registered specimens; those of which the provenance is known only amount to 18.61% of the corpus. To make matters worse, and despite a recent upward trend, coins found in the course of archaeological excavation only amount to 18.86% of the total.78 For this reason, as far as isolated findings are concerned, we are still heavily reliant on old references which, as repeatedly noted, are ridden with difficulties. All this notwithstanding, whenever approaching the matter of coin circulation, it must be taken into account that isolated finds only amount to 2.06% of all registered coins.

About coin circulation in the Visigothic period Monetary circulation studies aim to better understand money supply in a given region, based on isolated numismatic finds. In order for the conclusions to be reliable, the sample population must be ample, and evenly distributed.79 A quick glimpse at the tables presented in the previous section suffices to demonstrate that any such study concerning the Visigothic kingdom would be an unrealistic endeavour. However, some existing studies analyse not only isolated finds, but also hoards, and are worth examining in more detail. As noted, hoards tend to present a biased characterisation of the corpus, and the same applies to its geographical distribution. Fig. 4 presents data concerning known coins, divided by reign and province. Coins issued by Sisebut (612-621) and Sisenand (631-636), for instance, are concentrated in Baetica, which can again be explained by the size of the major Baetican hoards, dated to the reigns of Sisebut, Suinthila, and Sisenand. The potential for wrong conclusions to be drawn out of such biased data is obvious. In a work about coin circulation in the Visigothic kingdom of Toledo, M. Castro interprets a figure which is analogous to my Fig. 4, as evidence that, following a period that saw little money emission, a new phase started with Gundemar (610-612) in which ‘money production increased […] until Sisenand’s reign (631-636), during which the activity of the mints peaked.’ This conclusion leads the author to state that ‘the reasons that led to an 78 Data regarding coins found during an excavation after the publication of X. Barral’s work. 79 See for instance, for Roman imperial coinage, García Vargas, ‘Aspectos económicos’, p. 19.

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Fig. 4. Known Visigothic coins according to monarch and province.

increase of money circulation in the first third of the 7th century are still unknown’ and that ‘the southern mints were especially active.’80 I think it is obvious that the Baetican hoards sufficiently account for both of these issues. More recently, this author has also used the data to suggest a void in the central regions of the Iberian Peninsula.81 The argument presents several flaws. First, although his analysis allegedly focuses on Carthaginensis, finds from other regions, including Lusitania and the Ebro River in Tarraconensis, are also examined, even though each of these regions presents different characteristic features. No mints have been detected in the central areas of Carthaginensis, with the exception of Toledo and Reccopolis, but in all 80 M. Castro’s work leads me to another issue, which I have already mentioned (see note 53). Over the years, I have detected confusion among some researchers –including numismatists– between the notion of corpus and that of typological catalogue. In this regard, Castro (‘La circulación monetaria’, p. 226, note 1) claimed that his statistics are based on the specimens presented by the CNV and by Marques et al. (Ensaios sobre Historia Monetaria). It is worth mentioning that there is no way these f igures can be reached using Castro’s avowed sources, because one of them is a typological catalogue and the other is an essay that accounts for only 238 coins. It is possible to illustrate this discrepancy with an example: G. Miles recorded 157 coins by Suinthila in Emerita (The coinage, pp. 293-295, no. 235 a-n) and I brought the tally to 325 (Pliego, La moneda visigoda, vol. II, pp. 260-266, no. 393-396); meanwhile, the CNV displays 23 entries, and gives references to 15 coins (see CNV, pp. 398-399, nº 327 1-22). However, the profile of Castro’s Fig. 1 (2011, p. 227) – about on the Volume and evolution of the money supply – is very similar to mine, and the figures of coins divided according to monarchs coincide with those published in my 2009 work (Pliego, La moneda visigoda, vol. II, chapter I). The same may be said concerning weights, metal content and even the map of Visigothic mints. 81 ‘The extent of continued circulation of late antique coinage in the 6th to 8th centuries in the interior of the Iberian Peninsula remains unknown’ (Castro, ‘Absent coinage’, p. 51; see also Castro, ‘El sistema monetario visigodo’).

206 Ruth Pliego

Fig. 5. Number of hoards and isolated finds by province.

other respects – hoards and isolated finds – the panorama in the province is not dissimilar to that found elsewhere, with the exception of the isolated finds of Lusitania which, as noted, is a special case (Fig. 5). The conclusion is especially tendentious if the number of coins found in relation to hoards in this province is taken into account (Fig. 6); this is illustrative, because Castro’s work is based on the combination of data from isolated finds and hoards,82 in contradiction to established numismatic methodology for showing known anomalies in the result.83 Recently, I argued that isolated Visigothic finds should not be regarded only as lost coins, in contrast with other periods in which coinage was more abundant. In the Visigothic period, a single tremissis could be a substantial amount of wealth, well worth hiding in case of danger. At any rate, these finds must be interpreted on a case by case basis: major hoards such as the ones found in La Capilla and Fuentes, and small assemblages with four or five coins, such as the ones discovered in Tolmo and Bovalar, call for very different interpretations. Chronology may be an important factor in this regard; towards the end of the Visigothic kingdom, the loss of quality of coins must have made them more versatile, leading to smaller hoards 82 See for instances, Reece, ‘Coins as minted’. 83 An outstanding case, although from a very different period, would be the anomalous monetary circulation shown in Dacia in Roman times, which was due to its interpretation based on two treasure fragments (Găzdac, Monetary Circulation in Dacia, pp. 7-8).

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Fig. 6. Number of specimens found in relation to hoards and isolated finds.

which, in this period, also begin to appear in domestic arenas, for instance in Tolmo and Bovalar. In any case, the important thing is for numismatists to continue distinguishing not only between different types of hoard but, crucially, between hoards and isolated finds.84 In their recent work, A. Martín-Esquivel and C. Blázquez-Cerrato have also made this methodological mistake. In order to analyse money circulation in Lusitania, they have relied on 43 numismatic assemblages ranging in chronology from 423 to 711. In their own words, these are ‘mostly isolated finds, with the exception of three hoards and four coins-finds found during excavation, three in Conimbriga and one in Alcáçova de Santarém.’85 The material is not only disparate, but sometimes very doubtful, for instance the hoard found in Menoita, Guarda (post 553). Although the authors do not say how many coins are included in the hoard, they admit that its interpretation is problematic since it includes coins ranging from Republican denarii to a decanumium by Justinian I. The provenance of the hoard is uncertain, and for instance J. Ruivo has suggested that the coin ensemble of Menoita may be the result of the accidental collation of different groups of coins in the Museum of Guarda.86 This notwithstanding, Martín-Esquivel and Blázquez-Cerrato do not hesitate to say, based on the presence of a single 84 See a recent characterisation of different kinds of hoards in Arslan, ‘Alla fine dell’impero romano d’Occidente’, pp. 64-66. 85 Martín-Esquivel and Cruces Blázquez-Cerrato, ‘Hallazgos monetarios’, p. 150. 86 Ruivo, ‘Recensão a João Parente’.

208 Ruth Pliego

Byzantine piece, that ‘regardless of amounts and dates, the presence of Byzantine coins is reflective of contacts and the permeability of Visigothic borders.’ In addition to these hoards, their study includes other hoards which can, more securely, be dated to the Visigothic period, such as the Rio Maior hoard – concerning which, as noted, nothing is known other that it was probably buried during the reign of Suinthila (621-631) – and the Abusejo hoard, in Salamanca, made up of 111 coins. Martín-Esquivel and Blázquez-Cerrato try to compensate for the paucity of their evidence with material found in connection with this hoard, the contents of which are deconstructed and treated as though the pieces were isolated finds, while, confusingly, being simultaneously interpreted as part of a hoard: they said that probably ‘the Abusejo [hoard] was initially collated in Baetica, near Carthaginensis, and was hid sometime after AD 702-710.’87 As I noted, while the presence of mints from Carthaginensis, Baetica and Lusitania – especially Emerita – is to be expected, given the location in which hoards were found, by contrast, the large proportion of pieces from Tarraconensis is much more surprising.88 Moreover, these coins belong to the reigns surrounding the date of burial: ten coins by Egica and Wittiza and nine by Wittiza alone, of which only twenty specimens are known. Coins issued by Wittiza are most common in Tarraconensis, including five specimens from Narbonne; Gallaecia, despite its geographical proximity to the location of the find, has only yielded two pieces issued by Wittiza as sole ruler. On the other side, the isolated f inds considered by Martín-Esquivel and Blázquez-Cerrato include imitation solidi, pseudo-imperial tremisses, the famous Suebi siliqua, and Visigothic coins. The number of coins with which the authors work is not provided, for the focus of the text is soon directed towards the known mints and the presentation of statistical data produced on the basis of this mixed material. In their interpretation which is, unsurprisingly, heavily reliant on the composition of the Abusejo hoard, they argue for ‘a flow of coinage from the centre and south of the Iberian Peninsula towards the centre and the north west.’ It is hard to evaluate the accuracy of these conclusions, especially when the economic-monetary model which they allegedly apply is not explained, but I must stress once more the methodological error committed in the joint analysis of hoards and isolated finds. Finally, I should clarify that the occultation of a hoard

87 Martin-Esquivel and Blázquez-Cerrato, ‘Hallazgos monetarios’, p. 154. 88 See Pliego, La moneda visigoda, vol. I, p. 250.

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in a place different from where it was collated is not indicative of monetary flow, but only of a person travelling with it. In all fairness, Martín-Esquivel and Blázquez-Cerrato state that ‘it is obvious that the scarce numismatic and archaeological evidence available to date does not allow for far-reaching interpretations about the scale and role of Visigothic coinage,’ which confirms my reservations concerning the statistical data presented. However, Martín-Esquivel and BlázquezCerrato insist that ‘it is essential to investigate hitherto neglected aspects, for instance the volume and not only the number of known series.’ Such an investigation requires evidence to be much more abundant than is the case in their study, a fact that Martín-Esquivel and Blázquez-Cerrato state repeatedly throughout their article.89 In conclusion, the scarcity of isolated finds has forced researchers investigating coin circulation to work with very little data, and to combine evidence related to both hoards and isolated finds which, strictly speaking, demand different methodological approaches. If hoards do not hold valuable information concerning monetary circulation, conclusions based on isolated finds can often be ruled out as fictitious. Neat-looking statistics, figures and dispersion maps often conceal the poverty of the evidence on which conclusions are based. In my opinion, the available evidence does not allow for monetary circulation in the Visigothic kingdom to be examined with any success. In addition, the joint analysis of hoard and isolated finds related evidence is methodologically unsound. As such, conclusions concerning volume of emission, production curves, the relative weight of specific mints and regional ‘voids’ should be avoided, chiefly because this cannot be done without considering the economic model within which these conclusions should be framed. Observing general trends, on the other hand, is much more fruitful; they are, generally, self-evident, sparing the researcher a colossal task which, with the currently available evidence, can only yield poor results. *** 89 It must be kept in mind at all times that, for any conclusions concerning series volumes to be even moderately reliable, the statistical population must be very large. Visigothic dies have been analysed only rarely. In my own analysis of series issued by Sisebut in Ispali – the evidence available at the time did not allow for a broader study – I reached a pessimistic conclusion regarding the use of statistics, as they tend to largely focus on the productivity of the die, to the detriment of other crucial factors such as the availability of metal, as well as of other less central variables, such as the haste with which the issuing authority needed the series to be struck (see Pliego, La moneda visigoda, vol. I, pp. 196-198).

210 Ruth Pliego

In the previous pages, I have presented recent developments concerning Visigothic coinage from a variety of perspectives, regarding new coins, isolated finds, hoards and mints. I have not addressed many of the current research trends, something which will have to wait for another occasion.90

Abbreviations CCSL Corpus Christianorum – Series Latina MGH SRM Monumenta Germaniae Historica – Scriptores Rerum Merovingicarum

Works cited Arslan, Ermanno, ‘Alla fine dell’Impero romano d’Occidente. Il ripostiglio di San Mamiliano a Sovana (GR). 498 Solidi da Onorio a Romolo Augusto’, in Il ripostiglio di San Mamiliano a Sovana (Sorano – Gr): 498 solidi da Onorio A Romolo Augusto, ed. by Ermanno Arslan and Maria Angela Turchetti (Milano: Fondazione Centro Italiano di Studi sull’alto Medioevo, 2015). Barral i Altet, Xavier, La circulation des monnaies suèves et visigotiques. Contribution à l’histoire économique du royaume visigot (Zürich-München: Beihefte der Francia 4, 1976). Barroso, Rafael, Carrobles Santos, Jesús, Morín De Pablo, Jorge and Sánchez Ramos, Isabel María, Los Hitos Arisgotas-Orgaz, Toledo. De palacio a panteón visigodo. Los Hitos. Serie Histórica 2 (Madrid, 2015). Bartlett, Peter, Yoon, David and Pliego, Ruth, ‘Weight, Fineness, and Debasement in Visigothic Tremisses from Theudis to Leovigild: New Evidence from the Hoards of Seville and Reccopolis’, American Journal of Numismatics, 29 (2017), pp. 149-214, esp. 27-30. Caballero, Rafael, Maquedano, Bienvenido and Sánchez, Elena Isabel, El oro de los visigodos. Tesoros numismáticos de la Vega Baja de Toledo (Madrid: La Ergástula Ediciones, 2010). Cabré Aguiló, Juan, El tesorillo visigodo de trientes de las excavaciones del plan nacional de 1944-45 en Zorita de los Canes (Guadalajara) (Madrid: Informes y Memorias Ministerio de Educación Nacional 10, 1946). 90 Chiefly, these include the issue of Visigothic bronzes, which will be the subject of a monograph, currently in progress, and coin series that predate the reign of Leovigild, also currently under study.

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Castro Priego, Manuel, ‘El sistema monetario visigodo y su alcance regional: el ejemplo de la provincia Carthaginensis’, in Espacios urbanos en el occidente mediterráneo (S. VI-VIII), ed. by Alfonso García (Madrid: Toletvm Visigodo, 2010), pp. 285-294. Castro Priego, Manuel, ‘La circulación monetaria de los siglos VII-VIII en la Península Ibérica: un modelo en crisis’, Zona arqueológica, 15, 2 (2011), pp. 225-244. Castro Priego, Manuel, ‘Absent Coinage: Archaeological Contexts and Tremisses on the Central Iberian Peninsula in the 7th and 8th Centuries AD’, Medieval Archaeology, 60,1 (2016), pp. 27-56. Correa, José Antonio, ‘El latín de las monedas visigodas’, in Latin vulgaire-latin tardif. Actes du VIIème Colloque International sur le latin vulgaire et tardif (Seville, 2003), (Seville: Universidad de Sevilla, 2006), pp. 219-241. Crusafont, Manuel, Benages, Jaume, Noguera, Jaume, Ble, Eduard, Valdés, Pau, Cartes, Tomi, Sicart, Xavier and Vila, Joan Enric, ‘La Sèrie de plata de la monarquia visigoda’, Acta numismàtica, 45 (2015), pp. 71-80. Crusafont, Manuel, Benages, Jaume, Noguera, ‘Silver Visigothic Coinage’, The Numismatic Chronicle, 176 (2016), pp. 241-260. Engel, Arthur, ‘Godet de Noria (Canjilón de Noria) provenant des mines de Coronada’, Bulletin Hispanique, 1, 3 (1899), pp. 127-130. Fernández, Damián, ‘Statehood, Taxation, and State Infrastructural Power in Visigothic Iberia’, in Ancient States and Infrastructural Power: Europe, Asia, and America, ed. by Clifford Ando and Seth Richardson (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2017), pp. 243-271. Flórez, Enrique, Medallas de las Colonias, Municipios y Pueblos antiguos de España hasta hoy no publicadas, con las de los Reyes Godos, Vol. III, (Madrid: Imprenta de D. Antonio de Sancha, 1773). Fredegar, Chronica, ed. by Bruno Krusch, Fredegarii et aliorum Chronica. Vitae Sanctorum, MGH SRM 2 (Hannover: Societas Aperiendis Fontibus Rerum Germanicarum Medii Aevi, 1888). Garcia, José Elias, ‘Un triente inedito de Sisebuto’, Altitude, 4 (1942), pp. 129-130. García Moreno, Luís A., España, 702-719: la conquista musulmana (Seville: Editorial Universidad de Sevilla, 2013). García Vargas, Enrique, ‘Aspectos económicos de la moneda imperial’, in La moneda de l’Imperi Romà. VIII Curs d’Història Monetària d’Hispània, ed. by Marta Campo (Barcelona: MNAC, 2004), pp. 9-26. Găzdac, Cristian, Monetary circulation in Dacia and the provinces from the middle and lower Danube from Trajan to Constantine I (AD 106-337), Series Coins from Roman Sites and Collections of Roman Coins from Romania 7 (Cluj-Napoca: Mega Publishing House, 2010).

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Gozalbes Cravioto, Enrique, ‘Una aproximación al estudio de las vías en la Hispania visigótica’, in Actas del II Congreso Internacional de Caminería Hispánica, 2 vols, vol. 1, ed. by Manuel Criado de Val (Pastrana: AACHE Ediciones, 1994), pp. 85-94. Grierson, Philip and Blackburn, Mark, Medieval European Coinage, 17 vols, vol. 1, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,1986). Heiss, Aloïs, Description générale des monnaies des rois wisigoths d’Espagne (Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1872). Lafaurie, Jean, ‘À propos de la trouvaille de Bordeaux’, Revue numismatique, 14, series 5 (1952), pp. 229-236. Machado, José Pedro, Diccionário onomástico etimolôgico da língua portuguesa (Lisbon: Livros Horizonte, 2003, 1 1984). Macías Fortes, Rubén, Pérez Macías, Juan Aurelio and Carnero Ortiz, Félix, ‘Minería antigua en Sotiel-Coronada (Calañas, Huelva)’, De Re Metallica, 26 (2016), pp. 27-41. Mateos, Pedro, Pizzo, Antonio, and Pliego, Ruth, ‘Un tesoro de tremises visigodos hallado en el llamado “foro provincial” de Augusta Emerita’, Archivo Español de Arqueología, 78 (2005), pp. 191-192. Marques, Mario Gomes, Cabral, João M. Peixoto and Marinho, José Rodrigues, Ensaios sobre Historia Monetaria da Monarquia Visigoda (Porto: Sociedade Portuguesa de Numismática, 1995). Martín Escudero, Fátima, ‘Monedas que van, monedas que vienen… Circulación monetaria en época de cambios’, in De Mahoma a Carlomagno. Los primeros tiempos (siglos VII-IX). 39 Semana de Estudios Medievales de Estella (Navarra: Gobierno de Navarra. Fondo de Publicaciones, 2013), pp. 311-350. Martín Ruiz, Juan Antonio, Carcedo Rozada, Marcelino and García Carretero, Juan Ramón, Numismática bizantina del Bajo Guadalhorce (Málaga) (Málaga: Ediciones del Genal, 2016). Martín Viso, Iñaki, ‘La moneda y la articulación política del regnum gothorum’, in Identidad y etnicidad en Hispania: propuestas teóricas y cultura material en los siglos V-VIII, coord. by Juan A. Quirós Castillo and Santiago Castellanos García (Bilbao, 2015), pp. 101-124. Martín-Esquivel, Alberto and Blázquez-Cerrato, Cruces, ‘Hallazgos monetarios en el área lusitana situada entre el Duero y el tajo (siglos IV-VIII)’, Conimbriga, 57 (2018), pp. 139-168. Mateu y Llopis, Felipe, Catálogo de las Monedas Previsigodas y Visigodas del Gabinete Numismático del MAN (Madrid: Cuerpo Facultativo de Archiveros, Bibliotecarios y Arqueólogos, 1936). Mateu y Llopis, Felipe, ‘Recensión a E. A. García’ [‘Un triente inédito de Sisebuto’, Altitude, 4, pp. 129-130], Ampurias, VII-VIII (1945-1946), pp. 471-473.

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Metcalf, David, ‘Visigothic Monetary History, The Facts, What Facts?’, in The Visigoths. Studies in Culture and Society (The Medieval Mediterranean. Peoples, Economies and Cultures, 400-453, 20), ed. by Alberto Ferreiro (Leiden, Boston, MA and Cologne: Brill, 1999), pp. 201-217. Miles, George Carpenter, The coinage of the Visigoths of Spain (New York: American Numismatic Society, 1952). Parente, José, As moedas romanas do Museu da Guarda (Guarda: Instituto Português de Museus/Museu da Guarda, 2000). Parochiale Sueuum, ed. by F. Glorie in Itineraria et alia geographica = CCSL 175 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1965), pp. 412-420. Pliego, Ruth, La moneda visigoda, 2 vols (Seville: Universidad de Sevilla, 2009). Pliego, Ruth, ‘La moneda visigoda: Anexo I’, Spal, 21 (2012), pp. 209-233. Pliego, Ruth, ‘La amonedación visigoda del Reino de Tolosa (417-507)’, in Il ripostiglio di San Mamiliano a Sovana (Sorano–GR). 498 solidi da Onorio a Romolo Augusto, ed. by Ermanno Arslan and Maria Angela Turchetti (Milano: Fondazione Centro Italiano di studi sull’alto Medioevo, 2015), pp.123-137. Pliego, Ruth, ‘El tremis de los últimos años del Reino Visigodo’, in Monnaies du haut Moyen Âge: histoire et archéologie (péninsule Ibérique, Maghreb VIIe–XIe siècle) (Collection Villa 5), dir. by Phillipe Sénac and Sébastien Gasc (Toulouse: Presses Universitaires du Midi, 2015), pp. 17-58. Pliego, Ruth, ‘La presencia de tesoros y hallazgos monetarios visigodos en las colecciones de museos e instituciones’, in Actas XV Congreso Nacional de Numismática (Madrid, 28-30 octubre 2014), (Madrid: Museo Casa de la Moneda, 2015), pp. 517-528. Pliego, Ruth, ‘Dertosa, ceca visigoda bajo el reinado de Recaredo I’, Acta Numismàtica, 45 (2015), pp. 81-90. Pliego, Ruth, ‘The circulation of copper coins in the Iberian Peninsula during the Visigothic Period: new approaches’, in Les trouvailles de monnaies de bronze romaines en contexte médiéval, special issue of The Journal of Archaeological Numismatic, 5 (2015-2016), pp. 263-299. Pliego, Ruth, ‘A Hoard of Late Roman and Visigothic Gold’, The Numismatic Chronicle (2016), pp. 337-386, esp. 52-55. Pliego, Ruth, ‘A Visigothic Hoard from the Reign of Tulga’, The Numismatic Chronicle, 178 (2018), pp. 315-321, esp. 32-33. Pliego, Ruth, ‘Inceio, ceca visigoda’, Acta Numismàtica, 49 (2019), pp. 145-148. Pliego, Ruth, ‘Tracing the social identity of the Visigoths through their gold coinage’, in ‘Geld eint, Geld trennt 2’: Coinage, Regionalism and Identities, ed. by David Wigg-Wolf (German Archaeological Institute: series Menschen-Kulturen-Traditionen. Studien aus den Forschungsclustern des Deutschen Archaologischen Instituts, forthcoming).

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Pliego, Ruth, ‘Coins as symbol of authority and power’, in The Visigothic Kingdom of Toledo: Concepts and Forms of Power, ed. by Sabine Panzram (Amsterdam University Press, Series Late Antique and Early Medieval Iberia, forthcoming). Pliego, Ruth, ‘Rethinking the minimi of the Iberian Peninsula and Balearic Islands in Late Antiquity’, sent to Journal of Medieval Iberian Peninsula Studies, forthcoming. Pliego, Ruth, ‘The numismatic testimony of the rebellion of Hermenegild (579-584)’, forthcoming. Pliego, Ruth and Caldés Aquilué, Óscar, ‘Nuevos hallazgos de monedas de bronce visigodas procedente de València la Vella (Riba-Roja De Túria, Valencia)’, in Actas del XVI Congreso Nacional de Numismática, Museu Nacional d’Art de Catalunya (Barcelona 28-30 Noviembre 2018), forthcoming. Pliego, Ruth and Ibrahim, Tawfiq, ‘La Ciudad a través de las emisiones monetarias y sigilográficas’, in Entre civitas y madīna. El mundo de las ciudades en la Península Ibérica y en el norte de África (siglos IV-IX) = Collection de la Casa de Velázquez 164, ed. by Sabine Panzram and Laurent Callegarin (Madrid: Casa de Velázquez, 2018), pp. 135-151. Ruivo, José, ‘Recensão a João Parente [As moedas romanas do Museu da Guarda (Guarda: Instituto Português de Museus/Museu da Guarda, 2002)]’, Conimbriga, 41, pp. 290-294. Reece, Richard, ‘Coins as Minted and Coins as Found’, in Homenatge al Dr. Leandre Villaronga, special issue of Acta numismàtica, 21-22-23 (1991-1992-1993), pp. 57-62. Steinbach, Sebastian, Imitation, Innovation und Imperialisierung, Geldwesen und Münzprägung als wirtschaftshistorische Quellen zur ethnischen Identität und Herrschaftsorganisation des spanischen Westgotenreiches (ca. 572-714) (Geschichte und Kultur der Iberischen Welt, Band 11) (Berlin: LIT, 2017). Tente, Catarina and Martín Viso, Iñaki, ‘O Castro do Tintinolho (Guarda, Portugal). Interpretação dos dados arqueológicos como fortificação do período pós-romano’, in Los Castillos Altomedievales en el Noroeste de la Península Ibérica, ed. by José Antonio Quirós Castillo and José María Tejado Sebastián (Bilbao: Universidad del País Vasco/Euskal Herriko Unibertsitatea, 2012), pp. 57-75. Vico, Jesús, Cores Gomendio, María Cruz and Cores Uría, Gonzalo, Corpus Nummorum Visigothorum (Madrid: the authors, 2006).

About the author Ruth Pliego is currently a fellow at the Institute for Advanced Studies of Paris. She holds a PhD from the University of Seville (Spain) and is member of a research group of the Department of Prehistory and Archaeology, collaborating in a teaching programme for MA studies. Her main research

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focus is numismatics and the Early Medieval Spanish coinage, and she has published an extensive and comprehensive corpus entitled La moneda visigoda (2 vols, Seville, 2009) and also a large number of articles specifically on this subject. She has developed her research in the framework of several national and international research projects, mainly based at Seville and Málaga Universities but also in other institutions like Casa de Velázquez (with an Agence National de la Recherche’s project), among others. She is currently participating in a research project based at Princeton University entitled Framing the Late Antique and Early Medieval Economy, having been a Visiting Fellow in their Classics Department and having been granted an award by the Firestone Library. For several years, Ruth also worked for the Andalusian Institute of Historical Heritage and presently she is participating in the Tomares Hoard Project, a long-term project belonging to the Archaeological Museum of Seville.

Index adornment, personal: 92, 94-95 Africa: 161 Agathias, Byzantine chronicler: 161 Agila I, Visigothic king: 161-62, 194 Agila II, Visigothic king: 196-98, 201, 203 alimentary studies: 92; see also diet Amelius, Visigothic presbyter: 175 analyses, bioarchaeological: 88, 92 isotope: 88, 94 animism: 115-16 Ansemundus, Byzantine legate: 159-60, 172-73 archaeology: 13, 18, 75, 77-84, 86-90, 92, 94, 96-99, 113 ‘archaeological turn’: 18, 77, 79, 88, 97 archaeology of early medieval villages: 77, 86-87 archaeology of early medieval rural world: 18, 86 archaeology of landscapes: 86 archaeology of peasantry: 18, 79, 86, 94 archaeology, medieval: 75, 77, 79-80, 84 archaeology, commercial: 86 excavations: 80-81, 86-87, 89, 91, 95, 198 architecture, domestic: 88-89, 95 Arianism: 9, 53, 164 aristocracy: 12, 14, 19, 142 aristocratic groupings: 16 aristocratic status: 137, 143 Assidona: 162 Athanagild, son of Hermenegild and Ingunda: 163 Athanagild, Visigothic king: 161-64, 167, 174-75 Augustine, bishop of Hippo: 17-18, 23, 25-37, 39-44, 70 Austrasia: 163, 166 authority: 10, 12-13, 17, 19, 40, 43, 51, 71-72, 109, 112-13, 116, 120-21, 147, 174, 182, 189 authors, pagan: 69 Avars, the: 170, 174 Baetica: 53, 162-63, 184, 187, 192, 195, 198, 204, 208 bagaudae: 76 baptism: see sacraments: baptism Barcelona: 137; see also mints:Barcinona Barral i Altet, Xavier, Spanish art historian: 199 Basque country: 75, 80, 92 Bible: 18, 51-52, 54, 57, 59, 62-63, 67, 71; see also scriptures Bible Catalogue: 115 Bible readers: 110 Book of Jeremiah: 65 Book of Revelation: 60

Deuteronomy: 145 exegesis of the: 13-15, 17, 36, 40-41, 53-54, 57, 59 Gospels: 55-56 bishops: 10, 13, 51-52, 59, 72, 113, 115, 152; see also clergy; Church; ecclesiastical hierachy metropolitan: 112-13 bonds, social: 14, 16-18; see also households; kinship; family; domestic units identitary: 16 domestic: 120 Bracara/ Braga: 113 n.16, 187, 189, 197; see also hoards, Braga; mints:Bracara Britain/ Britannia: 110, 119 Brunhilda, queen of Frankish Austrasia: 163, 166 buckles: 88 Bulgar, count in Septimania: 137, 166 Byzantines, the: 14, 159-64, 167-72, 175 Byzantine Africa: 170 Byzantine coins: see coins: Byzantine Byzantine diplomacy: 19, 173 Byzantine emperor: 170-71, 173-74 Byzantine Empire/ Byzantium: 144, 159, 161, 163, 166-68 Byzantine Hispania: 159, 170 Byzantine Imperial government: 170-71 Byzantine influence: 83 Byzantine Italian-Gallic frontiers: 163 Byzantine Military: 162-63 Byzantine territories in Balearic Islands: 170 see also Byzantine Empire Caesarius, governor of Byzantine Hispania: 159-60, 162, 168-75 captives: 169-70 carpological studies: 92 Carthaginensis: 187, 198, 205, 208 Carthago Spartaria: 175 Cassiodorus, Senator: 165 Catalonia: 80 Celtic religion: 117 cemeteries: 18, 80-81, 89, 94 Carpio de Tajo, Toledo: 193 cemeteries, Visigothic: 81, 94 cemeteries, post imperial: 89-90 central powers/ central forces/ central government/ centrality: 15-16, 79, 109, 114, 117, 120, 122-23 centralist projects: 113 Ceuta: 161 Childebert II, Frankish king of Austrasia: 163 Chindaswinth, Visigothic king: 137, 139-43, 146-47, 151, 190, 193, 196, 201, 203

218  Chintila, Visigothic king: 19, 191-92, 194, 196, 198, 201, 203 Christianity: 54, 71, 170 Christian ethics: 172 Christian faith: 172 Christian influence: 144-45 Christians, the: 148, 171-72 Christianisation: 113, 144 chronicles: 163, 169 Chronicle of 754: 149 Chronicle of Alfonso III: 137 Chronicle of Fredegar: 137, 141 Church: 10, 12, 15-16, 18, 57, 59, 61, 65, 71-72, 142 Church, ethnic: 18 Church, Latin: 23 Church, Visigothic: 60 ecclesiastical districts; see also commissa; districts conventus: 122 dioeceses: 122 parochiae: 122 provinciae: 122 ecclesiastical hierarchy: 58, 72, 112; see also bishops; clergy; clerics; priests churches: see also parishes church buildings: 52, 151 churches, Visigothic: 80 proprietary churches: 113 circulation, monetary/currency: 9, 12-15, 19, 181, 204, 209 see also coins; exchange networks cities: 15, 41-42, 53, 59, 118-19, 134, 137, 163, 168-71, 173-75; see also urbes citizenship: 134, 146 Civil War, Spanish: 81, 190 clergy: 17-18, 52, 54, 60-62, 68, 72, 113, 120, 137 clergy, local: 137 clergy, Visigothic: 18 clerical appointments: 113 see also bishops; clerics; Church:ecclesiastical hierarchy; priests clerics: 52, 57, 61, 135, 140, 142, 149, 151 see also clergy; Church:ecclesiastical hierarchy Clovis, Frankish king: 166 coins/ coinage: 181-204, 206-10 coins:Byzantine: 208 coins:decanumia: 207 coins:denarii: 207 coins:fake: 199 coins:hoard-related finds: 200, 202 coins:isolated finds: 181, 184, 191, 193, 195, 197, 199-204, 206-10 coins:minimi: 182 coins:monetary corpus of: 194-96 coins:siliquae: 208 coins:solidi: 163, 184, 208 coins:tremisses: 181, 184-85, 187-94, 206, 208

Fr aming Power in Visigothic Socie t y

see also circulation, monetary/currency colloquium, spiritual: 65 Comentiolus, Byzantine governor in Hispania: 170 commissa: 122; see also Church:ecclesiastical districts; districts communication: 52, 54, 63 communication, oral/ verbal: 166 communities: 14, 52, 61, 65, 84, 94-95, 111, 116, 121, 135 communities, local: 89, 109 communities, readers: 18 communities, rural/ peasant: 13, 16, 76-78, 94-95, 97 communities, sovereignty: 117 communities/ settlements, residential: 121 Conimbriga: 207 consecration: 115; see also sacred Constantinople/ Imperial city: 162-63, 170, 173-75 construction, techniques: 89 Córdoba/ Corduba: 119 n.37, 137, 182, 190-94, 198; see also mints:Cordoba councils: see also synods conciliar canons /rules /laws: 109, 111, 114, 121, 142 councils, Suevic: councils, Suevic: Braga II of 572: 113, 115 n.24 councils, Visigothic: 112-14, 147 councils, Visigothic:Toledo III of 589: 11, 53, 112 councils, Visigothic:Seville II of 619: 197 councils, Visigothic:Toledo IV of 633: 59, 68, 192 councils, Visigothic:Toledo VIII of 653: 146 councils, Visigothic:Toledo XII of 681: 112-13, 138 councils, Visigothic:Toledo XIII of 683: 143, 146 councils, Visigothic:Toledo XVI of 693: 109, 111-12, 114, 119, 122 councils, Visigothic:Toledo XVII of 694: 150 court, Visigothic: 9, 137, 164, 192-93 see also monarchy, Visigothic creed, Nicene: 53, 71 cult: 16, 18, 111-12, 114-23 cultic authorities: 109-10, 115-16 cultic groups: 116-17 cultic practices/ rites: 13-14, 18, 109, 113-14, 120 see also devotions; idolatry; rites; veneration; worship decapitation, post-mortem rite: 119 n.38 deities/ divinities, pagan: 115

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devotions: 67, 111, 115, 121; see also cult; idolatry; rites; veneration; worship devotions, pre-Roman: 117 dies, monetary: 181, 189, 209 diet: 88, 92, 97; see also alimentary studies diplomacy: 13-15, 19, 159, 165, 172-73 districts: 117; see also commissa; Church:ecclesiastical districts; territoria divination: 118 n.35, 147 n.75 domestic units: 89, 92, 94-95, 120; see also bonds, social; kinship; family domini: 119 n.40 Douro, river: 84, 189

Gerona/ Girona: 89, 137; see also mints:Gerunda Gómez Moreno, Manuel, Spanish archaeologist and historian: 80 grammar/ grammarians: 70 graves: 117, 123; see also tombs rock graves: 122 Greek colonization: 80 Gregorian Reform: 10 Gregory the Great, pope: 53, 161, 164, 166-67 Gregory, bishop of Tours: 162 Gundemar, Visigothic king: 168,188-89, 196, 201, 203-04

Ebro, river: 205 Egica, Visigothic king: 109, 111-13, 137, 149-50, 190, 193, 196, 201, 203, 208 Egypt: 168 Assuan, Egyptian area: 174 emission, monetary: 19, 181, 185, 204, 209; see also coins epistles: 159-60, 162, 164-66, 168-71, 173-75 Ervig, Visigothic king: 112-13, 133, 135, 138-41, 143-44, 146 ethnicity/ ethnic basis: 18, 81, 83, 88, 94 ethnic conflicts: 92 ethnic Church: see Church ethnic explanations/ paradigms/ discussions: 87, 92, 120 ethnicism: 79 see also identities, ethnic Eulalia of Mérida, Saint: 9-10 Euric, Visigothic king: 139 exchange networks: 123 excommunication: 112, 142, 151; see also penance, ecclesiastical exegesis: 13-15, 17, 36, 40-41, 54, 57, 59

hamlets: 81, 85 health: 120 Heraclius, Byzantine emperor: 159, 168-70, 173-74 heresy: 59, 64, 66, 140-41, 152 heretics: 64-65, 70, 138, 140, 147-48, 152 heretics: Acephali: 65 n.42-43 Heritage Law: 86 Hermenegild, son of Leovigild: 162-63, 184, 186-87, 194-96, 201, 203 Hispalis: 17-18, 52-54, 63, 69, 71-72; see also mints:Ispali; Seville history: art history: 79 German Culture History: 81 legal history: 13, 134 Sacred History: 58 n.20 hoards: 182, 184-85, 191, 195, 197-200, 202-10; see also treasures Abusejo, Salamanca: 197-98, 208 Almonte, Huelva: 197 Bordeaux: 197 Braga: 197 Calle Cuna, Seville: 182, 183 n.14 El Bovalar, Serós: 197-98, 206-07 El Real de la Jara, Huelva: 197 Fuentes de Andalucía, Seville: 197-200, 202, 206 La Capilla, Seville: 197-200, 202, 206 La Grassa, Constantí, Tarragona: 192, 197-99, 202 La Hermida, Santander: 197-98 La Vega Baja,Toledo: 182, 191 n.39, 194, 198 Los Pedroches, Córdoba: 104, 182, 191-92, 194, 198 Menoita, Guarda: 207 Mérida 184, 198; see also Mérida; mints:Emerita Mons, Belgium: 197 Reccopolis: 183 n.14, 184, 198, 199 n.71, 205; see also hoards:Zorita de los Canes; mints:Recopoli/ Reccopolis Rio Maior, Portugal: 197, 208 Seville II: 197 Sotiel Coronada, Huelva: 197, 199, 202

family: 117, 120, 138 n.26, 185 see also kinship; households; domestic units; bonds, social farmsteads: 91-92, 95, 97-98 Florentina, sister of Isidore and Leander of Seville: 53 n.5 Flórez, Enrique, eighteenth-century Spanish erudite: 185, 189, 194 Franco Bahamonde, Francisco, Spanish general and dictator: 84 Francoist regime: 81 Franks, the: 18 Gallaecia: 187-88, 208 Gallia/ Gaul: 110, 163 gender: 94, 111 genealogy: 120 Germany: 81, 94 German Archaeological Institute, Madrid: 80 German scholars: 80-81

220  Tolmo de Minateda, Hellín: 206-07 Zorita de los Canes, Guadalajara: 182, 184; see also hoards:Reccopolis hoards, mixed: 183 n.2, 197 household, the: 119-21; see also bonds, social; kinship; family; domestic units Hydatius, bishop of Aquae Flaviae: 91 iconicity: 114 n.22 identities: 18, 80, 94-95, 118, 120, 182 Identity, early medieval: 92, 94 identity, ethnic/ ethnic identification: 81, 88, 92, 119; see also ethnicity identity, national: 79-80 identity, peasant: 90 identity, post-roman: 90 Identity, religious: 71 identity, social: 78, 81, 94 identity, village: 90 idolatry: 109-15, 119, 121 idolatric cults/practices/rites/references: 16, 18, 111-12, 114-23 idolatric objects/ idols: 117 idolatric worshippers: see worship:worshippers, idolatric see also cult; devotions; laws, anti-idolatric; rites; veneration incense, burning of: 110 n.6 inequalities, social: 12, 18, 78, 94-95, 97, 99 ingenui: 119, 121 Ingunda, wife of Hermenegild: 163 inscriptions: 118 n.34 epigraphic documentation/ sources: 110, 117 institutions, institutionalization: 15-16, 56, 80, 86, 215 invasions, Barbarian: 81, 85, 91-93, 117 Isidore, bishop of Seville: 12, 17, 23-37, 39-43, 51-59, 61-71, 116, 139, 161, 169, 175 isotopes: see analyses, bioarchaeological: isotope Israel, Kingdom of: 55 n.8, 61 n.30, 110 n.6 Italy: 161, 166 Iudila, Visigothic usurper: 195-96, 201-03 ius ius civitatis: 146 ius divinum: 115 n.23 ius ecclesiasticum: 115 ius privatum: 115 n.24 ius templorum: 115 n.24 Jerome of Stridon: 53 n.4 Jerusalem: 168, 170 Jews: 64, 140-48, 150, 152, 164 John of Biclaro, chronicler: 135-37 judges: 111, 141, 148 judicial apparatus: 15 judicial practices: 19, 141, 143-45 judicial sentences: 143, 148

Fr aming Power in Visigothic Societ y

Julian, bishop of Toledo: 142 jurists: 110, 115 n.24, 134, 136 Justin II, Byzantine Emperor: 184, 186 Justinian, Byzantine Emperor: 161-62, 164-65, 167, 207 kingship/ royal power: 12, 15-16, 19, 113, 134, 138 kinship/ relatives: 16, 18, 121, 138 n.32, 163 see also family; bonds, social landscapes: 78, 86, 88, 90-91, 97 post-Roman: 87, 92, 98 rural: 81, 84, 86, 89 see also archaeology of landscapes lararia, domestic: 119 law: 134, 139, 141-42, 144-45, 148; see also laws; legislation law, civil: 122 n.48, 136, 150 juridical system: 123 law, Mosaic: 55 law, penal: 138, 145 law, post-classical: 136 law, Roman: 134, 138 n.26, 147 n.75 laws: 17, 119 n.37, 136, 138-48, 150-52, 167; see also law; legislation laws, anti-idolatric: 111 laws, anti-Jewish: 140, 145 laws, military: 143 n.56, 148 Leander, bishop of Seville: 53, 162, 164, 174 legislation: 18-19, 110, 138, 144, 147-48; see also law; laws Leo I, Byzantine emperor: 174 Leovigild, Visigothic king: 9-10, 19, 137, 139, 144, 162-64, 183-86, 193 n.46, 197, 199 n.71-74, 201 Levante, the: 182 Liber Iudiciorum/ Lex Visigothorum: 76, 122, 135, 138, 140, 146-47, 151 Licinianus, bishop of Cartagena: 174 Liuva I, Visigothic king: 184, 193 n.46 Liuva II, Visigothic king: 201 localities: 111, 117, 122-23; see also settlements, small/ rural; sites, rural Lombards, the: 11, 166 n.46 lords/ landlords: 111-12, 119-23; see also patrons Lusitania: 118 n.34, 137, 187, 198, 200, 205-08 Madrid: 11, 89, 91-92 magister epistolarum: 174 magister militum: 170 magister officiorum: 174 manuscripts: 24, 53, 159 Marculf, Formulae: 166 marriage: 55, 137-38, 144, 152, 163 Martin, bishop of Braga: 112 Martínez Santa-Olalla, Julio, Spanish archaeologist: 81-83

221

Index

Marxist perspective: 95 material culture, ‘Germanic’: 81 Masona, bishop of Mérida: 9-10 Maurice, Byzantine emperor: 162-63, 166 meditation: 63, 66 memory: 42, 66-67, 116, 167 memory of the dead: 120 Mérida: 9-10, 135, 193 n.47, 194 see also mints:Emerita; hoards:Mérida Merovingians, the: 163, 174 n.95 Merovingian Kingdoms: 166; see also Austrasia metal: 96-97, 182, 205 n.80 Miles, George C., American numismatist: 187, 189, 194-95, 199 n.69, 205 n.80 mints: 182, 184, 186-95, 204-05, 208-10 mints:Arofre: 187-88 mints:Barbi: 190 mints:Barcinona: 186; see also Barcelona mints:Bracara: 193; see also Bracara/ Braga mints:Cesaraugusta: 185-86, 193 mints:Cordoba: 190, 192-93, 195; see also Córdoba mints:Dertosa: 189 mints:Egitania: 190-91 mints:Eliberri: 190, 194 mints:Elisa: 186 mints:Elvora: 184, 186 mints:Emerita: 185-86, 190, 192, 195, 208; see also Mérida; hoards:Mérida mints:Gerunda: 195; see also Gerona/ Girona mints:Iliocrici: 187 mints:Inceio: 188-89 mints:Ispali: 186, 190, 192, 209; see also Seville mints:Italica: 186 mints:Karmona: 187 mints:Labeclosa: 187 mints:Recopoli/ Reccopolis: 184, 186, 205; see also hoards:Reccopolis mints:Roda: 186 mints:Tarracona: 190-92; see also Tarragona mints:Tirasona: 186, 190 mints:Toleto: 184-86, 192-93, 195, 205; see also Toledo mints:Tude: 189 mints:Tucci: 192 mints:Vada: 187-88 monarchy, Visigothic: 19, 113 court, the: 9, 137, 164, 192-93 see also kingship/ royal power monasteries: 58, 62-63, 67, 71, 135, 137 monastic rules: 15, 61 Benedictine Rule: 67 Rule of Isidore: 61 monks: 61, 67 n.49, 68, 71 monuments: 12, 15, 77, 80

Narbonensis: 142; see also Septimania Narbonne: 137, 208 nationalisms: 79-80 Nîmes: 143 oath: 146, 172 orthodoxy: 17, 53 pallium: 164 Palestine: 168 Palol y Salellas, Pere de, Catalan archaeologist: 83 parishes: 113, 123, 188; see also churches Patristics: 18 patristic tradition 52-53, 56, 59 patrons: 18, 149 n.85; see also lords patronage networks: 121 Paul, general, Visigothic usurper: 142-43 peace treaty/ agreement/ covenant: 159-60, 168-73, 175 peasantry: 12, 14, 16, 18, 76-79, 81, 86-89, 91, 94, 97-99 peasant communities: 13, 16; see also communities, rural peasant studies: 77, 97 Peasant, Mode of Production: 95, 98 penalties: 111, 133-52, 174 blinding: 139, 141, 151 confiscation: 151-52 death penalty: 138, 140-41, 143-44, 147 n.77, 148, 151 decalvatio: 134, 138, 141, 151-52 enslavement: 134, 139-40, 148, 150-51 exile: 9-10, 13-14, 134-42, 145-52 banishment: 134, 138, 140, 152 deportatio/ deportation: 134-39, 141, 146, 148, 150-52 relegatio/ relegation: 134-39, 148, 151 flogging: 134, 136, 139, 141, 151-52 mutilations: 136, 144 penance, ecclesiastical: 111, 135, 145, 147 n.77, 151-52 penance: canonical: 145 penance: tariffed: 145 see also excommunication philology, philologist: 11, 13, 40 Phocas, Byzantine emperor: 168 photography, aerial: 86 pottery: 87, 95, 97 prayers: 62-63, 68 priests: 60-61, 71, 111, 149, 152; see also Church:ecclesiastical hierarchy; clergy priestly colleges: 120 property: 115, 136, 138 n.28, 141-42, 149, 151-52 reading: 42, 52, 54, 57, 59-71, 164 Reccared I, Visigothic king: 136 n.19, 161, 164-68, 172 n.77, 187-89, 193, 197 n.67, 198, 200-02

222  Reccared II, Visigothic king: 195, 201-02 Recceswinth, Visigothic king: 138, 140, 146, 152, 193, 198, 201 regionalization: 98 Reinhart, Wilhelm, German historian: 81 religion, domestic: 119 n.40 rents: 76, 112 n.13 resistances: 80, 121 Rhine, river: 90 Ricilo, wife of Theudefredus: 137 rites: 110, 114-15, 120; see also cult; devotions; veneration; worship domestic rites: 119 idolatric rites: 117, 120-22; see also idolatry liturgical rites: 52, 65 n.43 post-mortem rites: 119 rituals/ ritual actions/ acts/ practices: 115, 118-19, 121 Roderic, Visigothic king: 137 n.24, 195 Romans, the: 18, 30-31, 60 n.24, 81, 86, 89, 114, 116, 119, 139, 144, 169, 172, 183 Roman Empire: 80, 86, 90-91, 98, 134 Roman houses: 119 Roman law: see law, Roman Roman religion/cults: 114 n.22, 115 n.23, 116-19 Roman times: 141 n.46, 206 sacrality/ sacralization: 116-17; see also consecration; sacred, the sacraments: 52, 60, 65 n.43 sacraments: baptism 65 n.43 baptism, forced: 140, 147 n.76, 152 sacraments: ordination 65 n.43 sacred, the: 116, 119-20; see also sacrality/ sacralization sacred letter/ page/ texts: 57, 59, 71; see also Scriptures sacred objects: 115 n.23, 116 sacred places: 115 n.24, 118 n.36 sacred topography: 121 sacrifices, human: 110 n.6 sacrifice, Roman ritual: 118 n.35 Sassanids, the: 168, 172 Saul, Jewish king: 110 n.5 Scriptures: 51, 54 n.7, 55 n.8, 56-57, 59-64, 69-70 see also Bible; sacred: sacred letter/ page/ texts Segga, Visigothic usurper: 135 Seine, river: 90 Septimania: 166; see also Narbonensis Sergius, bishop of Narbonne: 137 sermo humilis: 69 settlements, small/ rural: 76, 85, 89, 91, 94, 122, 187-89; see also sites, rural; localities castella/ castra: 122 loca: 122 pagi: 76

Fr aming Power in Visigothic Societ y

vici: 76, 122 villae: 76 Horta da Torre, Portugal: 89 Vilauba, Girona: 89 Seville /Hispalis: 17, 18, 37, 52-54, 63, 69, 71-72, 182, 183 n.14, 197, 200, 215 see also mints:Ispali shrines: 84 shrines, pagan: 110 n.6, 118 n.33 Sigibert, Frankish king of Austrasia: 163 silence: 62, 66-67 silos: 16, 89-90, 95; see also sunken-featured buildings Sisebut, Visigothic king: 116, 140, 145, 159-60, 162, 168-75, 188-89, 191 n.39, 194, 200-01, 204, 209 n.89 Sisenand, Visigothic king: 188 n.25, 192, 197-98, 200-02, 204 sites, rural: 84, 86, 91; see also settlements, small/ rural Carratejera, Segovia: 89-90 Cuarto de las Hoyas, Salamanca: 84-85 El Bovalar, Seròs, Lérida: 197-98, 206-07 El Soto, Barajas, Madrid: 89 El Tolmo de Minateda, Albacete: 197-98, 206-07 Gozquez de Arriba, Madrid: 92 La Huesa, Cañizal, Zamora: 84 La Mata del Palomar, Segovia: 92, 96 Ladera de los Prados, Valladolid: 87, 92-93 Lancha de Trigo, Ávila: 81 Valdezate, shrine of: 84 slates, Visigothic: 77, 81, 122 slaves: 111-12, 119-21, 135, 138-40, 148, 151 see also penalties: enslavement Slavs, the: 170 sodomy /sodomitic practices: 111, 151 sorcery: 110, n.5-6 spatialization, regime of: 123 state, the: 19, 79, 108 statues: 110, 115, 118, 119 n.37; see also veneration of statues status: 94-95, 115, 119, 121, 135, 163 n.30 aristocratic status: 137, 143 Suebi, the: 208 suicide: 111 Suinthila, Visigothic king: 175, 190, 194, 200, 202, 204-05, 208 Suniefred, Visigothic usurper: 195 sunken-featured buildings: 89; see also silos Sunna, Arian bishop of Mérida: 135, 138 syncretism: 117 synods: 53, 60 n.25, 122; see also councils Syria: 168 Taracena Aguirre, Blas, Spanish archaeologist: 80 Tarraconensis: 142, 187, 195, 198, 205, 208

223

Index

Tarragona: 137, 189, 192, 198, 202; see also mints:Tarracona taxation: 12 temples: 118-19 territoria: 122; see also commissa; Church:ecclesiastical districts; districts territory: 14, 17-19, 113-14, 116-17, 120-23, 161, 163, 168, 173-75, 193 territorial boundaries: 122 territorial conquest: 168 territorial hierarchies: 117 Theodahad, Ostrogothic king: 165 Theoderic, Visigothic legate: 174-75 Theodorich, Ostrogothic king: 165 Theodosius I, Roman emperor: 140 Theodosius II, Roman emperor: 118 n.35, 174 Theudefredus, father of king Roderic: 137 Tiberius II, Byzantine emperor: 184 Toledo: 9, 137, 162, 174, 191, 205; see also mints:Toleto; hoards:Vega Baja tombs: 117; see also graves toponymy, Germanic: 188 torches, lighting of: 116 treasures: 186 n.20, 206 n.83; see also hoards treasures, Guarrazar: 80 treasures, Torredonjimeno: 80 Tulga, Visigothic king: 19, 190-94, 198, 201

types, monetary: 181, 183-87, 190-91, 193-94; see also coins/ coinage ‘cross-on-steps’ type: 184 ‘pseudo-imperial’ types: 183 ‘Victoria-cicada’ type: 185 urbes: 59, 122; see also cities veneration: see also cult; devotions; idolatry; worship of statues: 110 n.6; see also statues of stones: 110, 114-16 trees: 110, 115-16 water-sources: 115-16 violence: 13, 120, 169 Wamba, Visigothic king: 142-43, 146, 148, 198, 201-02 war: 13, 82, 167, 184, 186 Spanish Civil War: 81, 185 n.19 Witteric, Visigothic king: 137, 168, 201 Witigis, Ostrogothic king: 165 Wittiza, Visigothic king: 19, 149-50, 190-91, 193 n.206, 195, 197 n.66, 198, 201, 208 worship: 110-11, 115-17; see also cult; devotions; idolatry; rites; veneration worshippers, idolatric: 109-10, 115