Writing History in Late Antique Iberia: Historiography in Theory and Practice from the 4th to the 7th Century 9789048544974

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Writing History in Late Antique Iberia

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, but the publication profile of the field remains rather disjointed. No publisher focuses on this area and time-period and there is certainly no series devoted to the topic. This series will thus provide a hub for high-quality publications in the field of late antique and early medieval Iberian Studies. The series moves beyond established chronological dividing lines in scholarship, which segregated Muslim Spain from ‘barbarian’ Spain, and ‘barbarian’ Spain from late Roman Spain. We also seek to be geographically inclusive, encouraging scholarship which explores the north of the peninsula, southern Gaul, and northern Africa insofar as they were integrated administratively, politically and economically with Hispania in our period.

Series editors

Jamie Wood, University of Lincoln, UK Editorial Board Andy Fear, University of Manchester, UK Catarina Tente, Universidade Nova de Lisboa, Portugal Dwight Reynolds, UC Santa Barbara, USA Eleonora Dell’Elicine, Universidad de Buenos Aires, Argentina Glaire Anderson, University of Edinburgh, UK Inaki Martin Viso, Universidad de Salamanca, Spain Nicola Clarke, Newcastle University, UK Robert Portass, University of Lincoln, UK

Writing History in Late Antique Iberia Historiography in Theory and Practice from the Fourth to the Seventh Century

Edited by Purificación Ubric Rabaneda

Amsterdam University Press

The publication of this book is made possible by the research Project HAR2016-75145-P, ‘Para qué la Historia. La reflexion sobre el pasado en la Hispania tardoantigua’ (What is History for?: Reflection on the Past in Late Antique Hispania), funded by MCIN/AEI/ 10.13039/501100011033 and by ‘ERDF A way of making Europe’, in collaboration with the project ‘Libertad, convivencia e integración religiosa, social y cultural. Propuestas desde el cristianismo tardoantiguo’ (Freedom, coexistence and religious, social and cultural integration: Proposals from Late Antique Christianity), funded by the University of Granada.

Cover illustration: Diagram from BL Harley 2686. Image taken from f. 102v of Etymologies (index Etymologiae), with letters of correspondence between Isidore and Braulio (ff. 1-4). Image taken from https://picryl.com/media/diagram-from-bl-harley-2686-f-102v-fd34cf Cover design: Coördesign, Leiden Lay-out: Crius Group, Hulshout isbn 978 94 6372 941 3 e-isbn 978 90 4854 497 4 doi 10.5117/9789463729413 nur 684 © The authors / Amsterdam University Press B.V., Amsterdam 2022 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.



Table of Contents

1. Writing History in Late Antique Iberia: Theory and Praxis Purificación Ubric Rabaneda

2. Para qué sirve la Historia: Principios teóricos de la historiografía hispana tardoantigua Gonzalo Bravo

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3. From Christian Historiography to the Emergence of National Histories: Spanish Historiography between Romans and Visigoths 43 Immacolata Aulisa

4. Orosius: An Iberian Patriot’s History of Rome

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5. Orosius, Barbarians, and the Christian Success Story

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Andrew Fear

Maijastina Kahlos

6. Prophecies and Omens of the Fall of the Roman Empirein the Chronicle of Hydatius of Lemica Laura Marzo

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7. La dimensión política de los historiadores del reino visigodo de Toledo 117 Francisco Salvador Ventura

8. The Definitions and Uses of Historia in Isidore of Seville

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9. Bishops and Their Biographers: The Praxis of History Writing in Visigothic Iberia

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10. Local Powers and Construction of the Past in the Visigothic Kingdomof Hispania

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Hervé Inglebert

Jamie Wood

Santiago Castellanos

11. The Contemplation of the Past in the Libellus Precum of Faustinus(and Marcellinus)

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12. Orthodoxy and Heterodoxy: The Historiography of Hispania in Late Antiquity

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13. Expulsados de la Historia: El argumento histórico en la polémica antijudía hispana (siglos IV-VII)

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José Fernández Ubiña

Chantal Gabrielli

Raúl González-Salinero

14. Consideraciones sobre la temporalidad en las Vitae Sanctorum visigóticas 273 Pedro Castillo Maldonado

15. The Image of Leovigild as Arian Monarch in the ‘Vitas Patrum Emeritensium’: From Historical Reality to Hagiographical Deformation 293 Silvia Acerbi and Ramón Teja

Index 307

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Writing History in Late Antique Iberia: Theory and Praxis Purificación Ubric Rabaneda

Abstract This collective volume reflects on the motivations underpinning the writing of history in Late Antique Iberia, emphasising its theoretical and practical aspects and outlining the social, political, and ideological implications of the constructions and narrations of the past. The writing of History in Late Antique Iberia was penned by ecclesiastics, most of them bishops, linked to the privileged sectors of society and intimately connected to groups of episcopal, monastic and political power, who were also the main recipients of their writings. Their vision of History became one of the main propagandistic agents of the ideology of the elites in the final centuries of the Roman Empire and in the nascent barbarian kingdoms, especially in the Visigothic Catholic Kingdom of Toledo. Keywords: Historiography, Late Antique Iberia, Historian, Church, History Writing

In antiquity, there was no such figure as the professional academic historian as we understand it today. Transmission of and reflection on past or present was conceived of as a service to the state, society, God, or the Church.1 It was 1 On historiography in Antiquity, see, among others, Feldherrf and Hardy, The Oxford History; Liddel and Fear, Historiae Mundi; and in particular in Late Antiquity, Adler, ‘Early Christian Historians and Historiography’; Brunhölzl, Histoire de la littérature latine du Moyen Âge; Croke, ‘Latin Historiography and the Barbarian Kingdoms’; Deliyannis, Historiography in the Middle Ages; Inglebert, Les romains chrétiens and Interpretatio Christiana; Ghosh, Writing the Barbarian Past; Calderone, La storiografia ecclesiastica nella tarda antichità; Sánchez Salor, Historiografía latinocristiana; Milburn, Early Christian; Siniscalco, Il senso della storia; Rohrbacher, The Historians; Young, Ayres, and Louth, The Cambridge History of Early Christian Literature; Pohl and Wieser, Historiography and Identity I; and Heydemann and Reimitz, Historiography and Identity II.

Ubric Rabaneda, P. (ed.), Writing History in Late Antique Iberia: Historiography in Theory and Practice from the Fourth to the Seventh Century. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2022 doi 10.5117/9789463729413_ch01

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done by persons belonging to the elite, who utilised History as a source of social power. The writing of History in Late Antique Iberia was penned by ecclesiastics such as Hydatius of Lemica, John of Biclaro, Isidore of Seville or Julian of Toledo, among others; most of them bishops, linked to the privileged sectors of society and intimately connected to groups of episcopal, monastic, and political power, who were also the main recipients of their writings.2 According to their vision, God was the rerum actor of historical events. In line with this perception, the rerum gestarum scriptor became a passive figure, a mere transmitter of the divine incidence in human history.3 A careful examination of the historical works by ecclesiastics shows us, however, that the Christian rerum gestarum scriptor was not an impartial or passive emissary of the events of the past. On the contrary, his presentation and reflection on that past, which, on many occasions, was about his own present, was active and committed and obeyed particular political and ideological motivations and interests. In effect, these ecclesiastical writers did not act in the service of God – although most of them pretended to do so and even believed it in good faith – but in that of the established ecclesiastical and civil powers – the Roman Empire in the fourth and fifth centuries and the Visigothic kingdom in the sixth and seventh centuries – building and propagating an image of the past according to their own interests. This collective volume reflects on the motivations underpinning the writing of history in Late Antique Iberia, emphasising its theoretical and practical aspects and outlining the social, political, and ideological implications of the constructions and narrations of the past. It is the result of research Project HAR2016-75145-P – ‘Para qué la Historia. La reflexion sobre el pasado en la Hispania tardoantigua’ (What is History for?: Reflection on the Past in Late Antique Hispania) – funded by MCIN/ AEI/ 10.13039/501100011033 and by ‘ERDF A way of making Europe’, 4 in collaboration with the project ‘Libertad, convivencia e integración religiosa, social y cultural. Propuestas desde el cristianismo tardoantiguo’ (Freedom, coexistence and religious, social and cultural integration: Proposals from Late Antique Christianity), funded by the University of Granada. The contributions, which were discussed at an international workshop held in 2 On historiography in Late Antique Iberia, see, among others, Benito, ‘La historiografía en la Alta Edad Media española’; Carreras, ‘La historia universal en la España visigoda’; Domínguez del Val, Historia de la antigua literatura latina hispano-cristiana; Hillgarth, ‘Historiography in Visigothic Spain’; and Wood and Leonard, ‘History-Writing’. On groups of power, Fernández, Aristocrats and Statehood in Western Iberia. 3 Sánchez Salor, Historiografía latino-cristiana studies this conceptions in detail. 4 I thank these institutions for their support and for funding the publication of this volume.

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Granada, are borne of recognised specialists in the subject from Spain, Italy, the United Kingdom, Finland, Romania, and France. The volume includes general topics related to the writing of history, such as historiographical debates on writing history applied to Late Iberia historians (Bravo, Aulisa, Salvador), the praxis of history writing and the role of central and local powers in the construction of the past (Wood, Castellanos), the legitimacy of history (Ubiña), the exaltation of Christian history to the detriment of other religious beliefs (Kahlos, Gabrielli, Ubiña, Salinero, Acerbi, and Teja), and the perception of time in hagiographical texts (Castillo). Another point of interest in the volume is the specific studies on the historiographical culture; that is, the contextualisation of individual historians and their works. This is the purpose of the chapters by Fear and Kahlos on Orosius, Marzo on Hydatius, and Inglebert on Isidore’s def initions and uses of historia. All these issues are analysed from an innovative perspective that combines traditional subjects, such as the genres, characteristics, purposes, composition, principles, content, form, and style of Christian historiography, its novelties and singularities with respect to Greco-Roman historiography or the passage of classical Roman history to the ‘national’ histories of the barbarian kingdoms,5 with new historiographical topics, such as the configuration of historical discourse through another type of documentation like councils, hagiography, or legislation, not just historians and their writings. One of the main purposes of the book is understanding how historians in Late Antique Iberia balanced the varying demands of writing history in theory, context, and practice. This involves considering how the shifting historical context in which historians lived affected their praxis of writing history. Indeed, the complex and transformative historical context in which Late Iberia historians wrote, from the fourth to the seventh century, is crucial to understanding the great historiographical richness of their works. From the decline of Roman power and the emergence of the new barbarian powers, narrated by Hydatius, to the final stages of the Visigothic kingdom, recorded in Julian of Toledo’s History of King Wamba, the accounts of historians of Late Antique Iberia cover a wide range of events and reflections. During these centuries, historians of Late Antique Iberia witnessed the end of the Roman world and the emergence and consolidation of the Catholic Visigothic kingdom. It was a very conflictive period, in which historians had to adapt themselves and their writings to the new rulers, giving them 5 These issues are well known to us thanks to meritorious studies carried out by philologists, theologians, and historians, such as those cited in this volume.

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their full support, even in the alternative of Roman continuity offered by Byzantium. Another point covered in the volume is whether historians followed the existing theoretical parameters on the writing of history, or were forced to introduce some changes or particularities into their stories, why and how they did it (Wood). A very significant example in this sense is Isidore of Seville, who, as Inglebert remarks, not only reflected on historia, but also wrote historians’ works, a Chronicon in three forms and the stories of the Germanic peoples who settled in Iberia, Historia Gothorum, De origine Gothorum, Historia Wandalorum, and Historia Sueborum. According to their theoretical parameters, History had a teaching, moral, and providential purpose for historians of Late Antique Iberia. In effect, as Inglebert points out, the aim of history for Isidore was to preserve the memory of past events, allowing the experience of previous generations to be taught in the present. Similarly, Hydatius, at the beginning of his Chronicon, says that the purpose of his work is to pass on the knowledge of the events that led to the present decline to the next generations (Aulisa and Marzo). For his part, Julian of Toledo intends his History of King Wamba to serve as an example from which to draw useful reading and to become a source of information for future times (Salvador). As Inglebert shows for the case of Isidore, the educational objective justified the Christian use of classical and secular historians. Inglebert also underlines how the historian – as a trustworthy witness, an investigating author, or a transmitting historiographer – was supposed to tell the truth. Wood adds that, on many occasions, the moral goal of the historian implied that some episodes considered potentially uncomfortable for author and audience were obscured, modified, or suppressed. For their part, Bravo, Kahlos, and Salinero emphasise the providential role of History in their chapters, in which God, who traces the paths of history, is the main protagonist, through Christian triumphalism and history of salvation. Thus, as Salvador points out, historical writing results from intertwining disparate vectors, such as the exemplary intention with apologetic content and an undeniable political dimension. As Inglebert shows, knowledge of the past transmitted by historians of Late Antique Iberia is incomplete thematically and chronologically discontinuous. In effect, the events that were considered most important by historians and, therefore, worthy of being narrated and passed down, were those related to political and military aspects of history, where leaders and Christianity were the main protagonist. Thus, as Wood remarks, the models of historians were rulers, emperors, kings, and bishops.

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To write their history works, Late Antique Iberia authors used several historiographical genres, such us history, chronicle, biography, or monograph.6 The election of one genre or another determined and conditioned the type of historiographical discourse offered by the historian, as each genre had its advantages and its limitations. As Wood shows, historians were aware of these aspects and kept them in mind when writing their works. Thus, as Inglebert remarks, the Chronicon would be composed of a selection of military, political, or cultural events, religious aspects and prodigious events, while the Historia would be structured, above all, by the actions of kings. In almost all chapters, the works of historians of Late Antique Iberia are compared with classical historiography and also with Christian historiography, providing elements of innovation and continuity. Thus, as Aulisa points out, although Late Antique Iberian historians had many things in common with the ancient historiographical works and continued using already established models (such as that of Chronicon), they adapted these models to their particular objectives, interpreting ecclesiastical and political events according to a providential conception of history.7 Marzo studies the particular case of the prodigia in the work of Hydatius and their reminiscences with the thought of Livy. Bravo, for his part, analyses the prof ile of the historical discourse of this period: a moderate use of the rhetorical means, the desire for truthfulness, the ability to persuade to the reader, the instructional purpose of the writings, anonymous protagonists in the ‘great characters’ of the previous historiography, new scenarios of everyday life, and a new theologically based political theory, among others. In addition to the traditional historical writings, the volume also considers other sources for the historical analysis of Late Antique Iberia, such as councils, legislation, and apocryphal (Gabrielli), hagiography (Castillo, Acerbi, and Teja) and prophecies and omens (Marzo). Thus, hagiographic texts, which were long despised as a historical source, are valued by Salvador, Castillo, and Acerbi and Teja as a historical genre. Castillo shows some of their historical elements and peculiarities, for example, how hagiographical authors calmly confess whom they have copied and openly recognise that they do not reflect reality, but invention. For her part, Marzo underlines the importance of prophecies and omens, how they are used by Hydatius, and what they mean to him and what symbolism they reveal. 6 Thus, Salvador studies the various historiographical models that we find in historians of the Visigothic kingdom and their characteristics, which mainly imitate previous models. 7 In this sense, as shown in her chapter, Aulisa follows the modern historical criticism thesis.

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Based on these theoretical premises, the practice of history writing by Hispanic historians is approached in this volume from various perspectives. One of them is what episodes were narrated and why certain events were chosen over others. In effect, Late Iberia historians were first-hand witnesses of their time. Thus, their writings show, for instance, their perception of the end of the Roman Empire, of whom Orosius or Hydatius were loyal followers (Bravo, Aulisa, Fear, Kahlos, Marzo), or, in subsequent centuries, from the pen of Isidore of Seville, John of Biclaro, Julian of Toledo, or the anonymous authors of the Vitas Patrum Emeritensium (VPE), the emergence and consolidation of the Catholic Visigothic kingdom of Toledo (Salvador, Wood, Castellanos, Acerbi and Teja). At the same time, the writing of historical works is conditioned by the political context in which Late Antique Iberian historians wrote. Thus, although Hydatius intended to write a universal chronicle, he would be limited in his aspirations by the turbulent period in which he lived (Aulisa, Marzo). Orosius was also influenced by the events of his time that led him to write his Histories Against the Pagans, in which he tried to demonstrate Christian superiority over the pagan past (Kahlos). The writing of a work could also be motivated by relevant events experienced by the historian. Thus, John of Biclaro wrote his Chronicle to celebrate the conversion of the Goths to Nicene Christianity at the Third Council of Toledo in 589, and Julian of Toledo composed the History of King Wamba to record, in a manner clearly favourable to the monarch, Wamba’s triumph over the rebel Paul in the mid-670s, without any foreshadowing of the Visigothic kingdom’s imminent end (Aulisa, Salvador, and Wood). Particularly appreciated in Hydatius and Orosius is their vision on the barbarian peoples who invaded the territory in which they lived to become the new lords. From a Catholic Roman point of view, their perceptions differ from each other. Orosius presents barbarianism in a positive light, as a key point in the legitimation of the Christian success history, where the question of whether barbarians are Christians or not is fundamental (Kahlos). For Hydatius, by contrast, barbarians are hostile because they are the cause of the end of the Empire, even the Suevic Catholic King Rechiarius (Aulisa and Marzo). The historians who succeeded them totally changed their vision on barbarians, to the point of becoming – in the case of the Visigothic kingdom of Toledo – their main legitimators8 (Wood, Salvador, Inglebert).

8 An exhaustive analysis of the challenge that involved the transfer of Roman power to the barbarians, in particular for the aristocracy in Gaul, in Mathisen, Roman Aristocrats in Barbarian Gaul. Something similar would take place in Iberia.

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If circumstances or certain interests required it, historians sometimes also changed their accounts of history over time or narrated them in a particular way. This issue is analysed by Wood and Salvador. Specifically, they refer to the two redactions of Isidore of Seville’s Chronicle and Histories. The second version, where some passages were corrected and – in particular – added, was written in the aftermath of the expulsion of the Byzantines from Hispania. At other times, some historians rewrote the past in an interesting manner, emphasising the events most favourable events to their cause and silencing inconvenient aspects. This is the case of the Libellus Precum of Faustinus (and Marcellinus), analysed by Ubiña. Another issue discussed in the book is to what extent Hispanic authors were interested in events that concerned their territory or where they had broader interests that included their entire known world. Thus, the volume shows that historians of Late Antique Iberia wrote about Iberian issues, but also other events with a broader geographic scope. Orosius composed a universal history in seven books, Histories Against the Pagans, but, in the case of the Roman period, as Fear shows, he highlighted the events in which Hispanics intervened. Thus, Orosius paid special attention to incidents from the Iberian Peninsula, such as the siege of Numantia and the Cantabrian Wars, or to relevant Iberian characters, as Viriatus, or Emperors Trajan, Hadrian, and Theodosius to underline the importance of their local contributions to the empire, presenting his countrymen as morally – as well as martially – superior to their Roman opponents. From Fear’s point of view, the example of Orosius shows that the response of provincials to their membership of the Roman Empire was varied and wide. As mentioned above, Hydatius tried to write a universal chronicle of the events from 379 to 468 but his project remained wanting, as political circumstances did not afford him access to information beyond his nearby territory (Aulisa). It can be noted, however, that, even though he offers a local historiographical reconstruction, the prophecies and the warnings about divine punishment and the arrival of Judgement Day were addressed to all citizens of the empire (Marzo). In the case of Isidore’s De viris illustribus and Vitae, their characters were mainly chosen from his contemporary Hispanic background (Wood and Salvador). Furthermore, although John of Biclaro and Isidore of Seville considered events on a universal scale, they gradually gave significance and exaltation to the Visigothic kingdom of Toledo in their works (Salvador and Aulisa). For his part, Julian of Toledo, from a Hispano-Visigothic patriotic stance, tried to equate the history of the Visigothic Empire to that of the glorious Imperial Rome (Aulisa). Wood and Castellanos address another relevant topic, namely, how the discourse between the centre and the periphery was constructed by Late

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Antique Iberian authors. As Castellanos points out, the reconstruction of the past of the Visigothic kingdom by clerics, monks, and bishops in seventh century was done in the service of the ideology of the central power. Thus, Isidore of Seville and John of Biclaro narrated the conquest of peripheral territories by the Visigothic kingdom presenting them as a linear process, when nowadays we know – from archaeology and other sources – that this was a much more diverse process. For his part, Wood shows the way in which some histories were written with the purpose of reconciling potential tension between Visigothic royal power, focused on Toledo, and great cities elsewhere in the peninsula. Through a comparison of centralising writings like those of Isidore with other historical and hagiographical works focused on regional and local histories he shows that ‘history was written – and rewritten over time – as part of the struggle of elites to construct usable pasts for themselves and their communities’. Wood underlines the role that saints’ cults, liturgy, and other commemorative activities had in this process, reminding a local community of its own sacred past and tying it into the history of the universal church. Control of the saint’s cult therefore not only connected the community with the divine, but also with its own history. The study by Teja and Acerbi is a good example of this issue. In effect, they show that the fight between orthodox and heretical groups regarding Eulalia in Merida masked a more complex socio-political reality. Wood also remarks how historians obscured historical instances of disputation over episcopal office at the local level. Furthermore, he underlines the role played by the personalities that Isidore chose for his biographies in the consolidation of Toledo as a central point within a Hispano-Visigoth ecclesiastical organisation chart. In his individual study, Castillo combines present and past, analysing how the time idea was applied to hagiographical writings, where a historical and a hagiographic time coexist. Using examples taken from the lives of Desiderius, Emilianus, and San Fructuosus and the VPE, he shows how the Christian religion is essentially historical. For Christians, time always refers to something already lived, that is being lived or that is expected to be lived, everything is unrepeatable and connected. Consequently, past, present, and future have an absolute value. All these issues are very well reflected in martyrdom stories, where the past (the narrative of martyrdom itself) and the present (location of the relics and various celebrations) coexist. Thus, the present – with its witnesses – serves to credit the past, in the same way that the past gives legitimacy to the present. Moreover, the present does not forget the past: the festival is a commemoration, that is, a re-actualisation of the past, and the references to the locus reliquiarum are ultimately an

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aff irmation of the contemporary value of the past martyr in question. Current information is therefore intermingled with the account of past events, and confusion increases when past and present are identified: both are scenarios of the supernatural. Another aspect studied in the volume is the sources and resources that historians used to write their works. Thanks to them, as Wood suggests, it is possible to enquire about ‘the uses that our historians made of their sources, their ability to access information about past events, and compare their writings with those of others in order to gain a fresh perspective on how and why accounts might have differed’. In their writings, historians often mention the sources from which they extract the information they transmit. Thus, Hydatius drew his data from written sources, oral accounts, legates, and his first-hand experience of the events (Aulisa, Marzo). Other sources for historians were their own readings of other authors, whether contemporary or past, both Christian (such as Eusebius of Caesarea or Jerome) and pagan (Livy or Sallust), and sometimes, like John of Biclaro, the royal archives (Aulisa). As Inglebert points out, Isidore also uses a common and obvious knowledge that is unverifiable but which is supposed to be true; he refers to this as ‘the history’, ‘the stories’, or ‘a historian’. Wood, for his part, draws attention to the brevity of Isidore’s historical writings, not just those that referred to the distant past, but also to his own day. In effect, despite having a wide range of sources at his disposal, his works are all concise in the extreme and lack ‘facts’ and narrative detail. From Wood’s point of view, brief writing enabled the author to focus on what was most important in any particular subject and it aided communication with his various audiences. It also served to underline the didactic thrust of Isidore’s moral argument. As Salvador reveals, historians made use of a series of resources in their discourses of power. Among them are the inclusion of speeches, the use of emotion and drama, and, in the case of the History of Wamba, the contrast between the virtues of the monarch and his followers and the defects of his enemies. Orosius, for his part, as Kahlos remarks, employed different rhetorical techniques to challenge the traditional Roman view of the glorious Roman history. One of them was the use of the barbarian figure as a tool of contrast, providing both a negative and positive counterpoint to the Greeks and Romans. Hydatius, for his part, utilised prophecies and omens as a sign of the fall of Rome and the end of time – as Marzo points out. In addition, Salinero shows how Christian authors such as Juvencus manipulated concepts, terms, and proper nouns related to the essence of Judaism and applied them to what they wanted to communicate. Castillo, for his part, focuses on how some temporal indications appear in hagiographical

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texts with the purpose of accentuating the extraordinary character of the events. Along with the proliferation of proper nouns and ecclesiastical offices, reference to reliable men and geographical details, hagiographical authors introduce details that are apparently unnecessary but that lend credence to the narrative. Another of the volume’s aims is to underline how Late Antique Iberian historians, who were Catholic Christians, approached the specific question of other religious beliefs. The main topic they addressed in this sense was the relationship between orthodoxy, identified with their own creed, and those beliefs, in particular Arianism and Priscillianism, that were considered heterodox. Another point of analysis is how Christian authors conceived Jews and Judaism. Several chapters of the volume – Ubiña, Gabrielli, Acerbi and Teja, and Salinero – focus on this issue. Thus, Ubiña analyses the Libellus Precum of Faustinus (and Marcellinus); a document of minor importance but very revealing, which deals with some matters related to Hispanic clergy. He shows how their authors intentionally manipulated the historical past in order to explain their current situation, particularly the doctrinal rectitude of some Nicenist loyals who were unjustly persecuted by Catholic opportunists with the purpose of attracting imperial favour. Taking the case of Priscillianism in fourth and fifth centuries, Gabrielli shows how the image of orthodoxy and heterodoxy was built and how this view influenced the construction of Christianity. With this purpose, she analyses canons of councils, imperial legislation, and other types of ecclesiastical writings, including the Apocrypha. As Wood remarks, the central role of bishops acting corporately in councils under historical threat from heresy features in some of the bishops-writers’ work. In their chapter, Acerbi and Teja analyse the episode of the confrontation between Masona and Leovigild in the VPE, wondering what ‘historical truth’ may be behind a hagiographic text like this one. They compare the version of the VPE with what we know from other sources and from the most recent studies, reinterpreting the events in a new light. In their opinion, Leovigild was not the evil and persecuting king portrayed in the VPE, as his religious policy was characterised by tolerance; nor was Masona the victim of the persecutor king. For his part, Salinero focuses on how the Christian image of the history of salvation was built, by analysing the writings of several Late Antique Iberia authors. He underlines the Christian appropriation of Jewish history to justify their antiquity and to label themselves as Verus Israel. Thus, by establishing the coming of Christ at a certain moment in the past, Christianity was linked to an event situated in history. This allowed a distinctive chronological system to be established, dividing time into two eras from the

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birth of Christ as a point of temporal demarcation, which, in turn, favoured a theological and teleological reading of history. In this way, divine purpose was introduced into human discourse, subordinating historical facts to a purely religious dimension. In fact, history became ‘History of Salvation’, uniting the destiny of all men in the same direction and subjecting their lives to inscrutable divine purposes. For this reason, when approaching history, Christians paradoxically turned their gaze to the past with a view to the future, creating a vision in eschatological perspective that was both historical and metahistorical. Arguably, they wrote about history primarily for theological reasons, trying to ‘Christianise’ and harmonise the history of the Gentile peoples and the biblical history of the Jews as much as possible. They also introduced the idea of evolutionary change in history, overcoming the old Greek conception of cyclical time in the succession of empires. Finally, the book refers to the influence of historians of Late Antique Iberia on later historians. For example, Fear makes some observations about how Orosius’s vision influences the view of Spain in the Chronicle of Ambrosio de Morales. In sum, this volume shows that the ecclesiastics who wrote History in Late Antique Iberia did so with the purpose of sustaining the ideological perception of the dominant aristocratic elites, selecting and transmitting those facts or events that were most interesting to justify the past or their present. Thus, the vision of History of these authors became one of the main propagandistic agents of the ideology of the elites in the final centuries of the Roman Empire and in the nascent barbarian kingdoms, especially in the Visigothic Catholic Kingdom of Toledo. The historical legacy of these ecclesiastics, therefore, is essential to understanding the interests and debates, not only of their circles and more immediate times, but also of later ones, since they have constituted the basis for the reflection and subsequent reconstruction of the past.

Works cited Adler, William, ‘Early Christian Historians and Historiography’, in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies, ed. by Susan Ashbrook Harvey and David G. Hunter (Oxford–New York: Oxford University Press, 2008), pp. 584–602. Benito Ruano, Eloy, ‘La historiografía en la Alta Edad Media española’, Cuadernos de Historia de España, 17 (1952), 50–104. Brunhölzl, Franz, Histoire de la littérature latine du Moyen Âge. I, De Cassiodore à la fin de la Renaissance Carolingienne (Turnhout: Brepols, 1980).

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Calderone, Salvatore (ed.), La storiografia ecclesiastica nella tarda antichità. Atti del convegno di Erice (3–8 dicembre 1978) (Messina: Centro di Studi Umanistici, 1980). Carreras Ares, Juan José, ‘La historia universal en la España visigoda’, Revista de la Universidad de Madrid 6 (1957), 157–197. Croke, Brian, ‘Latin Historiography and the Barbarian Kingdoms’, in Greek & Roman Historiography in Late Antiquity: Fourth to Sixth Century A.D., ed. by Gabriele Marasco (Leiden–Boston, MA: Brill, 2003), pp. 349–391. Deliyannis, Deborah Mauskopf (ed.), Historiography in the Middle Ages (Leiden– Boston, MA: Brill, 2003). Domínguez del Val, Ursicino, Historia de la antigua literatura latina hispanocristiana (Madrid: Fundación Universitaria Española, 1997–1998). Feldherrf, Andrew, and Grant Hardy, The Oxford History of Historical Writing (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011). Fernández, Damián, Aristocrats and Statehood in Western Iberia, 300–600 C.E. (Philadelphia, PA: Penn Press, 2017). Ghosh, Shami, Writing the Barbarian Past: Studies in Early Medieval Historical Narrative (Leiden: Brill, 2016). Heydemann, Gerda, and Helmut Reimitz (eds.), Historiography and Identity II: Post-Roman Multiplicity and New Political Identities (Turnhout: Brepols, 2020). Hillgarth, Jocelyn N., ‘Historiography in Visigothic Spain’, Settimane di Studio, 17 (1970), 261–311 [reprinted in Jocelyn N. Hillgarth, Visigothic Spain, Byzantium and the Irish (London: 1985), III]. Inglebert, Hervé, Les romains chrétiens face a l’histoire de Rome. Histoire, christianisme et romanités en Occident dans l’Antiquité tardive (IIIe–Ve siècles) (Paris: Institut d’Études Augustiniennes, 1996). Inglebert, Hervé, Interpretatio Christiana. Les mutations des savoirs (cosmographie, géographie, ethnographie, histoire) dans l’Antiquité chrétienne (30–630 après J.-C.) (Paris: Institut d’Études Augustiniennes, 2001). Liddel, Peter, and Andrew Fear, Historiae Mundi: Studies in Universal Historiography (London: Duckworth, 2010). Mathisen, Ralph Whitney, Roman Aristocrats in Barbarian Gaul: Strategies for Survival in an Age of Transition (Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 1993). Milburn, Robert Leslie Pollington, Early Christian Interpretations of History (London: Adam and Charles Black, 1954). Pohl, Walter, and Veronika Wieser (eds.), Historiography and Identity I: Ancient and Early Christian Narratives of Community (Turnhout: Brepols, 2019). Rohrbacher, David, The Historians of Late Antiquity (London–New York: Routledge, 2002). Sánchez Salor, Eustaquio, Historiografía latino-cristiana. Principios, contenido, forma (Roma: L’Erma di Bretschneider, 2006).

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Siniscalco, Paolo, Il senso della storia. Studi sulla storiografia cristiana antica (Soveria Mannelli: Rubbettino, 2003). Wood, Jamie, and Victoria Leonard, ‘History-Writing and Education in Late Antique and Early Medieval Iberia’, in Historiography and Identity II: Post-Roman Multiplicity and New Political Identities, ed. by Gerda Heydemann and Helmut Reimitz (Turnhout: Brepols, 2020), pp. 237–267. Young, Frances, Lewis Ayres, and Andrew Louth (eds.), The Cambridge History of Early Christian Literature (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2004).

About the author Purificación Ubric Rabaneda is lecturer of Ancient History at the University of Granada. She has been visiting scholar at Oxford, Harvard, and Rome. Her main research interest lies in History of the Church and Barbarians in Late Antique Iberia. She has several publications and research projects on these subjects.

2.

Para qué sirve la Historia: Principios teóricos de la historiografía hispana tardoantigua Gonzalo Bravo

Abstract In recent years, Late Antiquity historiography has been analysed from different perspectives, although there is a growing interest in the comparison between ancient authors and modern historians. In this sense, authors and works present some common elements, which allow us to speak of a new way of writing history. The historical discourse of this period presents a new profile: a moderate use of the rhetorical means, the desire for truthfulness or, at least, the verisimilitude of the story, the ability to persuade to the reader, the instructional purpose of the writings, among others. But also some new elements, such as anonymous protagonists, new scenarios of everyday life and a new theological-based political theory. Keywords: Historiography, Epistemology, Christian historiography, Pagan historiography, Political theory

Para qué sirve la Historia (antigua) o tardoantigua no es una interrogante nueva, ni siquiera desde la vertiente historiográfica, pero sí de recurrente actualidad.1 Al contrario, es una ‘vieja’ cuestión de la epistemología histórica, que atañe, en principio, a la duda razonable sobre la utilidad o inutilidad de la Historia (Antigua) como instrumento gnoseológico, como saber, en la medida en que todo conocimiento – y el histórico tal vez más- no debería ser conside­ rado un fin sino precisamente un medio, un instrumento capaz de cambiar no sólo nuestra percepción del pasado sino también nuestra comprensión 1 Gruzinski, ¿Para qué sirve la historia?

Ubric Rabaneda, P. (ed.), Writing History in Late Antique Iberia: Historiography in Theory and Practice from the Fourth to the Seventh Century. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2022 doi 10.5117/9789463729413_ch02

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del presente. En definitiva, una actitud coherente con la conciencia crítica del mundo y la sociedad que se presume en el acervo del historiador, que no reconstruye el pasado de forma arbitraria sino mediante un conocimiento sujeto a reglas y métodos y, ante todo, con una hermenéutica peculiar para interpretar los testimonios del pasado y determinar su fiabilidad contrastados con otros coetáneos o posteriores y, en suma, para valorar los hechos en cuanto referentes válidos de un pasado meticulosamente analizado. Por eso una reflexión sobre los ‘principios teóricos’ que conforman el discurso historiográfico pasado y presente, antiguo o reciente, sobre la Hispania tardoantigua no puede limitarse a una mera descripción de contenidos o a una lista – si larga- de autores, obras, fechas de publicación y ediciones, sino que en todo caso debe intentarse una revisión crítica de los mismos que, en muchos casos puede y debe implicar una re-interpretación, en la línea del ‘historical rethinking’ anglosajón de K. Jenkins, por ejemplo, o del ‘pensar históricamente’ del francés P. Vilar, entre otros.2

Dos reflexiones previas: epistemología e historiografía Hoy quisiera añadir algunas nuevas reflexiones. La primera reflexión es de carácter epistemológico. Al principio de los años 60 del siglo pasado, se planteó de nuevo el problema de la utilidad o inutilidad de la historia, cuando en ámbitos académicos y científicos se discutía acerca de la identidad epistemológica de las ciencias.3 No estaba clara la divisoria gnoseológica que separaba a unas de otras, ni siquiera en términos de grupos: las experimentales de las especulativas, las formales de las reales, las humanas de las sociales, las factuales de las ideales, las abstractas de las concretas… Pero ya por aquellos años, en Francia se discutía acerca de los ensayos de Eric Dardel, un geógrafo francés que en un conocido ensayo de epistemología había definido la historia como ‘science du concret’, 4 un libro que se seguía leyendo y discutiendo en Francia hasta finales de los 80 y una acepción que hizo fortuna en Europa en las décadas siguientes; los filósofos de la historia insistían en la necesidad de ‘leer a Dardel, de nuevo’.5 En efecto, puede decirse que el ‘giro historiográfico’ moderno se produjo cuando 2 Especialmente Jenkins, Rethinking History; Vilar, Pensar históricamente. 3 Véanse, por ejemplo, Burston y Thompson, Studies in the Nature; White, Foundation; y, en general, Nagel, La estructura. 4 Dardel, l’histoire. 5 Especialmente, las reflexiones propuestas en un ensayo sobre Geografía y Filosofía de Besse, ‘Lire Dardel aujourd’hui’, pp. 43–46.

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la historia dejó de ser un debate sobre las ideas para convertirse en una discusión sobre los hechos, que ahora podían ser ‘medidos’, cuantificados y valorados cualitativamente en términos de relevancia histórica a partir de su dimensión espacial y temporal. Dicho de otro modo, al hilo de un ejemplo bien conocido: no puede haber sistema (esclavista) donde no hay esclavos (suficientes) que hagan rentable este sistema de explotación. Esta realidad social, por tanto, remite siempre a un contexto espacio-temporal que delimita claramente su relevancia. Pues bien, por aquellos años la Historia(Antigua) compartía el ‘objeto’ de conocimiento con otras ciencias humanas o sociales (como la Antropología, Psicología, Sociología), pero sobre todo con las llamadas ciencias ancilares, instrumentales o afines, tales como la Filología, Arqueología, Epigrafía, Numismática, etc., englobadas todas ellas – y la historia(antigua) también- en el grupo denominado de las ‘Altertumswissenschaften’, donde el ‘discurso historiográfico’ no iba más allá- salvo excepción- de una interpretación de un determinado tipo de fuentes: historiográficas, literarias, epigráficas, numismáticas, iconográficas. De ahí que las investigaciones se centraran en estudio de las obras de determinados autores, en documentos aislados o en los resultados de la Arqueología. Pero rara vez se asociaban – y aun menos se contrastaban- todos estos testimonios estableciendo un diverso grado de fiabilidad para unos y otros. La conjunción necesaria, el concierto conveniente vino después, cuando la Historia (Antigua) empezó a ser reconocida como una ‘disciplina historiográfica’ más sin perder por ello su ‘locus institucional’,6 es decir, su vinculación necesaria con las ciencias afines del estudio de la Antigüedad. Para que el ‘giro’ se consumara faltaba todavía que, en el campo epistemológico, se consolidara el concepto y práctica de la interdisciplinariedad de las ciencias, aun manteniendo la especificidad de sus métodos correspondientes. La difusión de esta nueva práctica contribuyó en gran medida a la configuración del ‘nuevo’ discurso historiográfico (antiguo) o (tardo)antiguo en el que nos encontramos desde hace tan sólo unas décadas; un discurso que cuestiona la prevalencia tradicional de los datos sobre la teoría y se aboga por una relación de interdependencia recíproca – si no en correspondencia necesaria- entre ambos elementos del discurso conforme a slogan epistemológicos bien conocidos y todavía muy discutidos: ‘no hay historia sin teoría’, ‘no hay historia sin documento’ (o ‘monumento’) que lo acredite.7 Este debate teórico ha generado al menos 6 Bravo, ‘Hechos y teoría’, p. 31. 7 Así, por ejemplo, Momigliano, ‘Le regole del giuoco’, pp. 15–24; también en la expresión ‘la historia se hace con documentos’ de Marrou, El conocimiento histórico, pp. 53 y passim.

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las bases de un ‘nuevo discurso historiográfico’, basado también en nuevos presupuestos teóricos: 1. Rechazo del eclecticismo metodológico a favor de una metodología selectiva adecuada al objeto;8 2. Frente al discurso marxista de las relaciones de clases sociales, el de las relaciones entre grupos (de status, identitarios, sociales);9 3. Frente al discurso positivista tradicional basado en el documento, el neopositivista referido a otros testimonios también (como el registro arqueológico, los modelos, sistemas, etc.).10 En definitiva, la sustitución de un ‘discurso pragmático’ – en la terminología de Topolsky, 1981- por uno ‘apragmático’, que no teorético.11 En definitiva, un discurso construido sobre la base de problemáticas, categorías analíticas, hipótesis de trabajo, teorías, modelos y, por qué no, también sobre leyes o regularidades y, en definitiva, un discurso en el que no desaparecen los hechos, sino que la constatación y descripción de estos se complementa con una reflexión crítica sobre su valoración a diversos niveles: particular, junto a la interpretación general; regional, junto a la valoración global; y contextual, junto al mero análisis textual aplicado a diversos tipos de fuentes y testimonios. No cabe duda que la aplicación de esta metodología en muchos campos de investigación de la (Tardo)antigüedad aportaría – y aporta ya ‒ nueva luz sobre muchas cuestiones. Pero una vez más las dudas persisten: ¿se trata de una ‘moda’ pasajera, efímera, o de una alternativa epistemológica seria, capaz de modificar incluso el discurso historiográfico tradicional? En cualquier caso, su consolidación significaría que, por fin, dejando atrás un pasado historiográfico todavía reciente, la Historia Antigua (Tardoantigua también) construye sus modelos de investigación de forma similar a como lo hacen desde hace ya algún tiempo el resto de las disciplinas historiográficas: con la ayuda de las ciencias sociales e incluso de las experimentales y abstractas. La segunda reflexión se refiere a la historiografía, o mejor dicho, a qué debe entenderse por tal. En el sentido que A. Momigliano dio a este término, esto es, comprender los discursos sobre el pasado en cuanto condicionados 8 Alföldy, ‘La Historia Antigua’, especialmente pp. 25, 41, 43 y 47; también Bravo, ‘Hechos y teoría’, p. 36, n. 80, sobre los ‘modelos’ propuestos por Alföldy. 9 La formulación más clara de esta alternativa a las tesis marxistas sobre el concepto de ‘clases sociales’ sigue siendo quizá la expuesta por Finley, La economía, especialmente pp. 46–67. 10 Sobre todo Hopkins, Conquistadores, como ‘intento de aplicación de determinados conceptos y técnicas sociológicas modernas a la historia romana’ (p. 5) y con una peculiar propuesta bibliográfica sobre ‘Historia romana para sociólogos y Sociología para historiadores de Roma’ (pp. 293–294), y una aplicación de estos principios en Hopkins, Death and Renewal. 11 En la terminología de modelos históricos de Topolsky, Metodología, especialmente pp. 38 y passim.

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por las problemáticas del presente histórico del autor (antiguo o moderno) que escribe sobre él,12 la historiografía no sería el conjunto de obras históricas, ni siquiera entendida como ‘la ciencia de la historia’,13 sino más bien una forma de ensayo, el historiográfico, que trata de ‘construir’ el pasado a partir de los testimonios disponibles en cada momento. En el mismo sentido, el ‘título’ de este capítulo es deliberadamente problemático y se fundamenta en la duda recurrente en la teoría epistemológica sobre qué entender por ‘historiografía’: 14 si sólo la producción escrita del pasado o algo más (la tradición oral, por ejemplo); si sólo la producción escrita del pasado (y no del presente); si también la producción escrita (y algo más) en tiempos posteriores al pasado, incluido el presente. En definitiva, si entendemos por tal las fuentes historiográficas del pasado (antiguo o tardoantiguo) o también la que se ha denominado ‘historia de la historia’, construida desde el presente histórico (antiguo, medieval, moderno, contemporáneo) en un sentido próximo al utilizado por A. Momigliano en sus célebres ensayos historiográficos. Para demostrar que estas alternativas no son meramente conceptuales, permítaseme que ilustre lo anterior con un ejemplo relativamente reciente: En diciembre de 1988 tuvo lugar en Madrid un Congreso Internacional de Historiografía, cuyas Actas fueron publicadas por el Ministerio de Cultura en 1991,15 en el que participó como ponente el insigne profesor de la Universidad de Oxford, Sir R. Syme. El título de la ponencia era ‘Unrecognised Authors from Spain’.16 Pero la sorpresa fue que Syme, sin justificación previa alguna, no habló allí de historiadores españoles, ingleses, franceses, alemanes o italianos (vivos o muertos), sino precisamente de siete autores de origen hispano de época imperial, a saber: Séneca de Corduba, Marcial de Bilbilis, Quintiliano de Calagurris, y otros menos conocidos como Curiatio Materno, el interlocutor del Diálogo de Tácito, Publio Manilio Vopisco, celebrado por Estacio (Silvae, 1.3) como poeta en Tibur, una ciudad ‘colonia’ de hispanos en el Lacio en esta época (flavia); el historiador Fenestella, de comienzos del siglo I a. C., conocido a través de la biografía de Craso de Plutarco; y, en fin, el mismo Valerio Máximo (el autor de los Memorabilia), que puede proceder de Hispania también. Y la posterior publicación de las Actas recogió fielmente aquella intervención del ‘maestro’ oxoniense, que constituye un auténtico ‘unicum’ 12 13 14 15 16

Sobre todo en Momigliano, Studies. Así Aróstegui, La investigación histórica, pp. 76–95. Para las diversas acepciones del concepto, Bravo, ‘Introducción’, pp. 7–26. Arce y Olmos, Historiografía. Ibid., pp. 15–18.

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en un Congreso sobre historiografía de los siglos XVIII al XX. Si Syme, con su sapiencia indiscutible, interpretaba el término ‘historiography’ en ambos sentidos: ¿con qué derecho ‘nosotros’, modestos seguidores, podríamos restringirlo en un sentido u otro? Por eso, sin caer en la tentación de invertir los términos de interpretación propuestos por Syme y, en consecuencia, tratar solamente sobre la historiografía española reciente que ha versado sobre aspectos de la Hispania tardoantigua, en esta ocasión he optado por usar ambas acepciones, de tal modo que hablaré tanto de algunos autores (tardo)antiguos en general y de algunos autores hispanos, en particular, como de algunas obras (‘history writings’) y autores modernos, que traten sobre la obra de aquéllos. Además, este concepto ‘lato sensu’ de historiografía permite referenciar toda la obra histórica como formas de construcción y/o reconstrucción del pasado histórico con independencia de su contenido,17 aun a sabiendas de que a menudo, en este tipo de estudios, se corre el riesgo de ‘escribir’ más sobre el ‘presente justificado’ que sobre el ‘pasado referenciado’18 y, en consecuencia, realizar una manipulación – a veces inconsciente, otras, no – del pasado (tardoantiguo) distorsionado y, casi siempre, idealizado o al menos descontextualizado, que sirva como justificación ideológica de una determinada construcción política o social moderna o contemporánea (sea un estado, un régimen político o, simplemente, un modelo de sociedad o una determinada concepción del mundo (‘Weltanschuung’), que pueda servir de modelo unas veces y de ‘contra-modelo’, otras, a construcciones políticas o sociales del presente histórico, sea este el siglo XXI, XX, XIX o XVIII incluso. Este instrumento analítico, con notable éxito ya en la historiografía actual se suele denominar ‘prefiguración histórica’ y se ha aplicado al estudio de algunos estados europeos – y aun americanos – comparados con los antiguos (y tardoantiguos) tomados como modelos de organización,19 con líderes políticos ‘en paralelo’, con discursos similares o inspirados en aquellos y tratados iniciales afines salvando las distancias. Ahora bien, un ensayo historiográfico debe partir siempre de un ‘marco teórico’ en el que ubicar -clasificar, si es posible- a autores y obras, con unos puntos de partida necesarios, que no son otros que las aportaciones anteriores (personales o ajenas) sobre el tema para ratificarlas o, en su caso, rechazarlas con nuevas propuestas de interpretación a la luz de la nueva documentación disponible o mediante la re-interpretación de los 17 Un buen ejemplo es la conocida obra editada en su día por Burke, Formas de hacer historia. 18 Bravo, ‘Otra forma de escribir’, pp. 137–144, especialmente p. 138, a propósito de Sancho Rocher, La Antigüedad. 19 En particular García de Quevedo, ‘La antigua Roma’, pp. 329–343, especialmente p. 331.

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testimonios ya existentes. Por eso este tipo de análisis conlleva siempre un esfuerzo de reflexión crítica sobre el concepto de historia (tardo-antigua) que los subyace y sobre los métodos utilizados por el autor en la construcción/ reconstrucción de los hechos históricos. Pero hay que tener en cuenta que en historiografía – como en la historia misma- no hay pensamiento con valor de panacea,20 que no sea criticable o que sea asumible ‘in toto’, porque en cualquier reflexión, aun basada en datos empíricos, hay siempre elementos discutibles (‘debatibles, en el sentido de que no son plenamente perceptibles’ ‒ en palabras de R. MacMullen ‒21 y, por tanto, su interpretación depende de múltiples factores: fuentes nuevas, otras formas de análisis, evaluación diferente de los resultados de la investigación, etc. En consecuencia, la percepción del mundo tardorromano (y, si se prefiere, por extensión tardoantiguo) está sujeta a los sucesivos cambios historiográf icos, que vienen marcados por la publicación de investigaciones y obras capaces de desvelar las claves – aún ocultas ‒ de hechos, procesos o fenómenos históricos aún no resueltos o de alumbrar otros nuevos en consonancia con la nueva documentación disponible o mediante la re-lectura o re-interpretación de los testimonios ya existentes. Pero sin olvidar que la historia (antigua) se construye con hechos ‒ no sólo con ideas ni tampoco sólo con datos ‒, que pueden inferirse de los documentos o de la interpretación de los restos de cultura material de la época en cuestión. Finalmente, libros como este demuestran una vez más que, más allá de las limitaciones propias que impone a menudo el academicismo dominante, hay otras alternativas; que es posible elaborar otros discursos historiográficos para comprender mejor la compleja realidad histórica de un pasado que a menudo se nos antoja demasiado lejano para ser referido como modelo, pero que, en muchas ocasiones, es el precedente histórico inmediato de nuestro presente.

La historiografía tardoantigua: autores antiguos y elementos básicos del discurso Como ha observado D. Rohrbacher, ‘la historiografía clásica [como la (tardo) antigua, añadiría yo] es (‘nace’, dice el autor), por naturaleza, polémica’:22 Heródoto vs. Homero; Tucídides vs. Heródoto…, como también: Sócrates 20 Véase un modelo de estudio en Bravo, ‘Historiografía europea’, pp. 1–11. 21 MacMullen, Paganism, pp. 1 y passim; 49 y passim. 22 Rohrbacher, The Historians, p. 153.

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(niceno) vs. Sabino (hereje); Sabino vs. Atanasio (niceno); Sócrates vs. Eusebio…y, en cierto sentido, Orosio vs. Agustín.23 Pero entre los historiadores del período hay también algunos elementos comunes. En general se observa la tendencia a huir del panegírico, aunque no renuncian a utilizar los recursos retóricos para conseguir el objetivo primordial: persuadir a los posibles lectores de la importancia de los hechos descritos aun ilustrándolos con vivencias personales que justificaban ciertas valoraciones: Amiano habla de su experiencia como soldado; Aurelio Víctor, de su esmerada educación; Sozomeno de su presunto origen noble (que remonta a la época de Juliano) y, en fin, Orosio, de las calamidades que soportó poco antes del ‘saqueo de Roma’ por Alarico en agosto de 410, vivencias que sin duda condicionaron su visión en exceso benévola y apenas creíble sobre los hechos que describe, otorgando a los visigodos una bondad sin límites por el hecho de ser cristianos y respetar a los romanos, sin apenas derramamientos de sangre, según el autor.24 En cualquier caso, en la historiografía (tardo)antigua hay que distinguir siempre entre al menos tres tipos de historiadores: los cronistas de su tiempo, como Eusebio, Jerónimo e Hidacio, entre otros; los historiadores que se refieren básicamente a acontecimientos del pasado romano o anterior e incluso remoto como Eutropio, Zósimo y especialmente Orosio; y los llamados historiadores de la Iglesia: Sócrates, Sozomeno, Teodoreto, entre otros.25 Aparte de los usos habituales y de los recursos de la retórica, la mayoría de estos historiadores remiten con frecuencia a autores u obras del mundo grecorromano, que el lector del siglo IV y V solía interpretar como prueba de nexo o continuidad entre ‘su mundo’ y el ‘mundo clásico’. Pero en la historiografía (tardo)antigua prevalece todavía la ‘Romanitas’ como idea de ‘centralidad’26 a pesar del recuerdo sobre el reciente desastre de Adrianópolis en la obra de Amiano,27 o el saqueo de Roma por Alarico en agosto del 410, en la de Orosio. En definitiva, los historiadores (tardo)antiguos presentan un discurso histórico a medio camino entre la retórica y la historia. Su objetivo es generalmente doble: uno, convencer al lector de que los hechos relatados son 23 Sobre estos últimos, vid. infra n. 50. 24 Orosio, Historias, VII, 39, 1; véase Bravo, ‘¿Muertes virtuales?’, p. 103, y sobre la coyuntura política de Occidente durante la primera década del siglo, ahora Bravo, ‘¿Traición al Imperio?’, pp. 79 y passim. 25 Sobre todos ellos, véase ahora Rohrbacher, The historians, passim; vid. infra n. 34. 26 Especialmente González Salinero, ‘La idea de Romanitas’, especialmente pp. 356–360. y también González Salinero, Infelix Iudaea, passim, especialmente pp. 118–124. 27 Amiano, Histoire, XXXI, ed. Sabbah.

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realmente importantes, para lo que utilizan varias formas de persuasión al presentar los hechos de forma verosímil aunque no sean verdaderos;28 dos, mostrar o demostrar su compromiso con la verdad (dicho explícitamente por Amiano y Eunapio, entre otros). Otro elemento de fiabilidad es la mención de las fuentes de información, tanto más fiables cuanto mejor conocidas. Sin embargo hay que distinguir claramente entre las noticias testimoniales (‘vistas u oídas’) y las de la tradición oral,29 a las que a menudo remiten en sus obras autores como Rufino, Sócrates, Sozomeno y Eunapio. E incluso algunos autores como Amiano y Orosio, haciendo alarde de una erudición no común, remiten a menudo a autores y obras de la literatura clásica grecorromana (como Tácito o Josefo), lo que implica que eran conocidos de los lectores de su época. En otras ocasiones, en cambio, la obra tiene un claro propósito moral, como en los casos de Eunapio y Teodoreto.30 Pero no hay que olvidar que, en el caso de los autores cristianos, las obras tenían además una finalidad aleccionadora en su afán de ganar adeptos a la causa cristiana, como en las obras de Orosio o Agustín. No obstante, algunos elementos del discurso historiográfico son recurrentes y compartidos por la mayor parte de estos historiadores de la Tardoantigüedad: 1. Señalar la importancia del relato histórico, generalmente ya en el prefacio de la obra, cuando esta parte se ha conservado, como en los casos de Eunapio, Teodoreto y Eutropio; en otros casos, como Amiano, Olimpiodoro y Prisco hay que recurrir a referencias indirectas o alusiones ajenas sobre la importancia que se otorga al autor. 2. Justif icar la importancia de su obra, bien exponiendo las fuentes utilizadas o bien mencionando a los destinatarios a los que iba especialmente dirigida, que suelen coincidir con los que aparecen mencionados en la dedicatoria del autor: Eutropio y Festo, a Valente; Rufino, a Cromatio, obispo de Aquileya; Orosio, a Agustín; Teodoreto, a Teodosio II; Eunapio, a Juliano; Sócrates, a Teodoro.31 Generalmente se trataba de líderes políticos, obispos, intelectuales o mentores, a los que les unía una estrecha relación de magisterio o amistad. 3. La naturaleza, a veces f icticia, de la documentación presentada, poniendo en boca de personajes de la época discursos imaginarios, cartas inventadas, arengas pensadas o simples documentos ficticios utilizados 28 Sobre todo, Brown, Power and persuasion, pp. 128 y passim.; y, en general, Bravo y González Salinero, Propaganda y persuasión. 29 Circunstancia resaltada por Rohrbacher, The historians, p. 154. 30 Ibid. p. 151. 31 Ibid., pp. 152–153.

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por el autor para enfatizar la credibilidad del relato. En muchas ocasiones, por tanto, no se trata de discursos reales, aunque se pongan en boca de sus auténticos protagonistas. Tal vez por ello, autores tan importantes como Amiano, en una obra tan extensa como su Historia o Res gestae, recurre tan sólo una docena de veces a interpolar discursos del emperador o jefes militares a sus soldados y sólo uno fuera del contexto militar.32 No obstante, sorprende que en general los historiadores de la Iglesia -a excepción de Sozomeno- no hayan seguido las pautas metodológicas trazadas por Eusebio y su Historia Ecclesiastica, que incluía ya verdaderas listas de testimonios escritos y que recurría a menudo a citar documentos eclesiásticos, como decisiones de sínodos y concilios, para justificar sus valoraciones.33 Pero el mayor compendio de material documental se incluye quizá en la obra de Teodoreto de Ciro34 hasta el punto que muchos pasajes de su obra son poco más que una lista de documentos donde la narración es realmente secundaria, en línea con el método eusebiano.

Un problema central: historiografía pagana vs. historiografía cristiana Aunque es cierto que el fenómeno de la cristianización afectó ante todo a las ciudades, en pocas décadas las comunidades cristianas aparecieron por doquier35 hasta el punto de que, a comienzos del siglo IV existían ya en Hispania al menos 19 sedes episcopales.36 No hay duda, sin embargo, de que la difusión del cristianismo en las provincias hispánicas había llegado ya a las grandes familias de las aristocracias locales o provinciales, como la del emperador hispano Teodosio, que pertenecía a la influyente aristocracia hispánica, probablemente cristiana (de ahí su nombre de Theo-dosius) 32 El emperador Juliano en su lecho de muerte: ibid., p. 160. 33 Ibid., p. 162: Sozomeno recopila documentos para su Historia hallados en palacios, iglesias, o colecciones privadas con un afán esencialmente didáctico, proporcionando materiales de ‘ayuda a las generaciones futuras’. 34 Véase ahora Teja, Historia de los monjes. 35 Un buen dossier acerca de este proceso de difusión en general, en Frend, The Rise, passim; también para el caso hispánico, en Santos y Teja, El cristianismo, passim. 36 El número de obispados propuesto es mínimo, ya que responde al de los obispos hispánicos que asistieron al Concilio de Iliberris (Elvira, Granada) hacia el 305. Aunque la mayoría de los asistentes eran de la Bética, también había obispos o presbíteros de otros ámbitos tales como Carthago Nova (Cartagena), Ebora (Evora, Portugal), Emerita (Mérida, Badajoz), Legio (León) y Toletum (Toledo), entre otros; un buen estado de la cuestión sobre el problema en Fernández Ubiña, ‘Le Concile’, pp. 309–318; también Bravo, Teodosio, pp. 171 y passim.

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y que había llegado a emparentar con algunos miembros de la poderosa aristocracia gala de la época.37 Pero la implantación del cristianismo en la sociedad romana no supuso, en principio, la configuración de una correspondiente historiografía cristiana sino que, por el contrario, esta es una realización tardía e incluso tardoantigua y, en todo caso, no anterior al siglo IV, siendo Eusebio de Cesarea su principal mentor, calificado en ocasiones como ‘el gran teórico del Imperio cristiano’.38 Hasta entonces los cristianos sólo tuvieron acceso a la historia a través de los autores paganos, que basaban sus relatos en las vidas de los hombres ilustres (de viris illustribus), personajes relevantes de la vida política, la sociedad o la cultura. En cambio, los autores cristianos propondrán como objeto histórico la vida de personas comunes, pero creyentes, que como ‘confesores’ (mártires), ‘defensores’ (obispos) o ‘difusores’ (santos y monjes) de la doctrina cristiana operando en escenarios nuevos, lejos de los campos de batalla o el senado, en ciudades, en el desierto o simplemente en ‘lugares santos’, porque fueron el ‘hogar’ de hombres y mujeres así proclamados por las jerarquías eclesiásticas.39 También son nuevos algunos de los campos temáticos elegidos por los primeros autores cristianos, como Actas de mártires, Passiones, Historia eclesiástica o vitae sanctorum, aunque no otros, como los panegíricos o las Historias universales, 40 pero todos ellos destinados a coexistir con la historiografía pagana, primero, y a competir con ella, después, hasta su práctica erradicación a lo largo del siglo VI, cuando se observa ya un claro predominio de los autores cristianos. 41 De hecho, ambas historiografías coexistieron entre los siglos III y V, aunque la historiografía cristiana tardoantigua, que compartía algunos presupuestos ideológicos con la historiografía pagana anterior, no se configuró como tal, como género propio, hasta comienzos del siglo IV, cuando se elaboraron las primeras obras de la nueva historiografía. 42 Pero es evidente que esta nueva concepción 37 Ahora Bravo, Teodosio, pp. 108 y passim. 38 Especialmente Arce, ‘Roma’, p. 209, especialmente, pp. 207 y passim., y Alba, Teología política, pp. 89 y passim.; sobre la importancia historiográfica de este autor conviene releer las reflexiones ya lejanas de Momigliano, ‘Historiografía pagana’, pp. 106 y passim. 39 Bravo, ‘¿Muertes virtuales?’, p. 98. 40 Ibid. pp. 99 y passim. 41 Ibid. p. 96. 42 A saber: la primera historia del cristianismo a partir del testimonio de los mártires (de Lactancio); la primera historia de la Iglesia (de Eusebio); la primera crónica cristiana (de Jerónimo, seguida después por Hidacio); la primera biografía imperial (de Constantino, por Eusebio); la primera hagiografía (de Atanasio sobre Antonio); y, en f in, la primera historia universal (de Orosio); véanse Sánchez Salor, Historiografía, passim; Bravo, ‘¿Muertes virtuales?’, especialmente pp. 99 y passim.

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de la historia, la cristiana, que empezó a adquirir fuerza con la teoría de la teología política de Eusebio y que culminaría en el providencialismo agustiniano de la ‘civitas dei’ algunos decenios después cuando estaba ya consolidada la unidad entre Estado e Iglesia, 43 tenía ante todo una clara dimensión religiosa, en la que los anteriores valores de la sociedad romana (políticos, militares, culturales) quedaban relegados ante la relevancia de los hechos religiosos de la Iglesia, cualesquiera que fueran: conversiones, confesiones de martirio, ascetismo, caridad, limosna. 44 No obstante, la nueva historiografía presenta rasgos de forma y contenido que la diferencian claramente del pragmatismo característico de la historiografía pagana, como el uso moderado -salvo quizá la excepción de Lactancio y Orosio- de los recursos retóricos, relegados generalmente frente al realismo de las situaciones concretas, bien delimitadas en tiempo y espacio, de los nuevos protagonistas de la historia. Pero quizá el rasgo más notable de la primera historiografía cristiana es la explícita intencionalidad aleccionadora, a modo de exempla ‒ a veces disuasorios también ‒ mediante los que opera la providencia divina.45 Se construye así un discurso histórico esencialmente nuevo dotado de un acusado dramatismo, mediante un uso equilibrado de los elementos descriptivos y los recursos retóricos para generar en el lector la predisposición ante el mensaje final, que no era sino aceptar los hechos como expresión de la voluntad de Dios, mientras que el historiador pasaba a segundo plano como mero instrumento, como mero ‘narrador de hechos’ (‘scriptor rerum’),46 de tal forma que Dios es el verdadero protagonista, el que marca los caminos de la historia. De este modo, en paralelo con el progresivo proceso de cristianización se fue gestando un nuevo discurso ‘entre literatura e historia’ que, como ha señalado justamente Sánchez Salor caracteriza a la primera historiografía cristiana’;47 un discurso que, si en la ‘forma’ sigue utilizando recursos retóricos similares a los de la historiografía pagana, en el ‘fondo’ cuestionaba a menudo la prevalencia tradicional del poder político sobre el poder eclesiástico emergente, por lo 43 Sobre todo Dumézil, Les racines chrétiennes, pp. 59 y passim.; también Bravo, ‘Sobre las relaciones’, pp. 323–334, y ahora también sobre la reelaboración del poder que se realiza a fines del siglo IV, Bravo, ‘Iglesia e Imperio’, pp. 23–40, especialmente pp. 31 y passim. 44 Sobre las precarias condiciones de vida en las primeras comunidades cristianas: Fernández Ubiña, ‘Le Concile d’Elvira’ passim. 45 Sobre esta fase inicial de la historiografía, vid. sobre todo Sánchez Salor, Historiografía, pp. 206 y passim., con un detenido análisis de los escritos de autores cristianos; también Bravo, ‘¿Muertes virtuales?’, especialmente pp. 98 y passim. 46 Bravo, ibid., p. 96. 47 Sobre todo Sánchez Salor, Historiografía, p. 206.

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que el poder imperial, antes intocable, fue también puesto en entredicho en cierto modo por algunos representantes de la jerarquía eclesiástica: Lactancio vs. los emperadores perseguidores, Eusebio vs. Constantino, Ambrosio vs. Teodosio. Pero quizá fue el presbítero hispano Orosio quien escribió la obra más ambiciosa, porque pretendía ser ‒ y lo fue de hecho ‒, la primera historia universal, cuyo primer libro se iniciaba con Adán hasta Rómulo (753 a. C.); continuaba la evolución desde éste a Cristo en cinco libros; y, finalmente, el libro VII abarcaba desde Cristo hasta su propio tiempo, las primeras décadas del siglo V, concretamente hasta los reinados godos de Ataúlfo y Walia en 417. 48 En este sentido, Orosio no sólo se apartaba de las limitaciones impuestas por Agustín en la planificación de su obra como una mera recopilación de un listado de desgracias, en cuanto ‘materiales’ para el desarrollo del modelo agustiniano de las ‘dos ciudades’, basado en la existencia de calamidades también en tiempos pre-cristianos, sino que Orosio reforzó sus tesis personales y elaboró su propia crónica histórica recurriendo a menudo a las fuentes clásicas latinas y griegas, basada en estos dos criterios primordiales: uno, demostrar que las desgracias han existido siempre, por lo que las calamidades de su tiempo no pueden imputarse a los cristianos por los paganos sino al contrario, debido a la degeneración moral a la que había llegado la sociedad romana pagana o quizá simplemente para descalificar las acusaciones paganas que hacían a los cristianos responsables del reciente saqueo de Roma por Alarico; dos, lograr la conversión al cristianismo de los reductos todavía paganos a pesar de los esfuerzos de la legislación teodosiana y de las jerarquías eclesiásticas, 49 preocupación por la conversión que es primordial también en la obra de este autor hispano:50 Pero dado que estos argumentos, aunque son veraces y contundentes, necesitan sin embargo caer en oídos de personas fieles y obedientes, y que mi discusión ahora va con incrédulos –no sé si después serán creyentes-, 48 Su obra ha sido def inida como ‘historia apologética’ y ‘mezcla de historiografía secular, triunfalismo eusebiano y numerología bíblica’: Rohrbacher, Historians, p. 12.; Sobre la personalidad de Paulo Orosio, vid ahora Vilella, ‘Biografía crítica,’ pp. 94–121; también Rohrbacher, Historians, pp. 135–149. 49 Principalmente MacMullen, Christianizing, pp. 86–101 (ch.10: ‘Conversion by Coercion’) y pp. 158–164. 50 El autor alude a ella expresamente: Traducción ed. E. Sánchez Salor, pp. 166–167. Este empeño de Orosio en convertir a los incrédulos le aparta, de hecho, del plan agustiniano y permite al historiador hispano elaborar su propia crónica incluyendo hechos políticos como la defensa de las Hispanias por Dídimo y Veriniano en 408, que pasaron inadvertidos a otros autores hispanos, como Hidacio: Escribano, ‘Usurpación y defensa de las Hispanias’ pp. 509 y passim.; y Sanz Serrano, ‘Aristocracias paganas en Hispania Tardía’ especialmente pp. 455 y 459 y passim.

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indicaré más bien aquellos argumentos que, aunque no quieran aceptar, tampoco pueden denegar (Orosio: HadP., VII, 1.5).

En definitiva, algunos autores hispanos de la Tardoantigüedad contribuyeron a reforzar la historia de corte providencialista, diseñada por Agustín de Hipona, en la que la Iglesia o, mejor dicho, las jerarquías eclesiásticas tenían la importante misión de tender puentes de conciliación con el poder político (imperial, primero; monárquico, después) hasta llegar a mimetizarse con él mediante el reconocimiento del cristianismo católico como religión oficial del Estado por parte de las autoridades civiles y la incorporación de los ideales tradicionales de la Romanitas pagana a los presupuestos ideológicos de la Roma Christiana.51

Un problema regional: los bárbaros, Teodosio y los autores hispanos Desde la Germania de Tácito, si no antes, escrita a finales del siglo I, la visión del mundo bárbaro – más allá del limes imperii- es en exceso tributaria de la información de las fuentes romanas que, en muchos casos, son la única fuente conservada sobre los bárbaros.52 No obstante, desde hace algunos decenios, la arqueología ha suplido algunas de las lagunas de información existentes proporcionando nuevos datos, que han modificado sustancialmente la visión tradicional sobre estos pueblos en cuanto a su hábitat, sus formas de vida, organización política, social y militar.53 En cualquier caso, bárbaros y romanos convivieron como vecinos durante varios siglos sin confrontaciones importantes entre ellos. Pero las penetraciones de godos en el Imperio fueron frecuentes desde los periódicos cambios políticos del siglo III aprovechando la debilidad militar en las fronteras y la inestabilidad política derivada de las frecuentes luchas internas, rebeliones y usurpaciones en disputa por el control del poder imperial. En efecto, emperadores legítimos e ilegítimos (denominados ‘tyranni’ en la Historia Augusta, pero también en Orosio para los usurpadores de su tiempo)54 se alternaron durante unos cincuenta años en el gobierno imperial, más preocupados por la estabilidad de su poder que por la 51 Vid. González Salinero, Infelix Iudaea, pp. 121 y passim; también Bravo, Teodosio, passim. 52 Una buena recopilación de fuentes sobre aspectos de la vida cotidiana de los bárbaros en Balsdon, Romans and aliens. 53 Un análisis sobre base arqueológica en Wells, Granjas, aldeas y ciudades, y sobre todo Wells, The Barbarians Speak, passim; y para el caso hispánico, Arce, Bárbaros y romanos. 54 Vid. especialmente Escribano, ‘Tyrannus’, pp. 185–214.

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creciente presión de algunos pueblos bárbaros en las fronteras. Además, desde los gobiernos de Decio y Galieno hubo incursiones góticas en las fronteras del Imperio, atestiguadas por Zósimo,55 hasta que el emperador Claudio II derrotó a escitas y godos en Naissus, adoptando entonces el título de ‘Gothicus’.56 De nuevo, en 280, a la muerte de Aureliano, los godos aprovecharon las disensiones internas para invadir el Imperio mientras el nuevo emperador M. Aurelio Caro apenas podía retenerlos en el frente del bajo Danubio.57 Sin embargo, a comienzos del siglo IV se reanudaron las hostilidades con los godos, que no cesaron hasta que Constantino concertó un tratado romanogótico en 332, que estabilizó la situación con ellos durante los tres decenios siguientes. Entretanto, muchos godos y germanos fueron incorporados en el ejército de Roma, bien como tropas auxiliares, bien en los cuerpos de élite de los emperadores. Pero de 367 a 369, bajo el gobierno oriental de Valente, las acciones bélicas se reanudaron. Mientras el emperador estaba enzarzado en batallas periódicas con los persas en la frontera oriental, en la danubiana los visigodos (o ‘godos de Occidente’) lograban un pacto con las autoridades romanas para atravesar el Danubio y asentarse provisionalmente en tierras de Tracia, al otro lado del río. Desde entonces coexistieron dos grupos de bárbaros: uno externo, al otro lado del limes, y otro interno, parcialmente integrado en el sistema romano58 y asentado en la zona limitánea. Pero en 378 dos acontecimientos cambiaron radicalmente la situación. En primer lugar, a finales de agosto las tropas de Valente fueron derrotadas por una coalición de bárbaros dirigida por Fritigerno y Alavivo. Después, Teodosio fue reclamado por Graciano para solucionar el problema militar de Oriente y en enero de 379 fue proclamado por éste emperador en Sirmium. Comenzaban así los theodosiana tempora (379-450), durante los cuales los miembros de la dinastía teodosiana mantendrían el control sobre el gobierno del Imperio. Entretanto, Teodosio I había pasado ya a la historia como defensor a ultranza del catolicismo frente a paganos y herejes.59 No es de extrañar, por ello, que el hispano Hidacio, hacia 468 o 469, iniciara 55 Zósimo, Nueva Historia, 2–3; Véase ahora Kulikowski, Gothic Wars, pp. 18 y passim. 56 Jones et al., PLRE, I, p. 209: Claudius 11. 57 Aur. Vict., 38, 2; véase Kulikowski, Gothic Wars, p. 30. 58 Vid. MacMullen, Corruption, pp. 199–204: ‘App.A: Fourth-Century Barbarians in the Emperors` Service’. 59 Contra paganos y, en particular, frente a la resistencia a la conversión del influyente grupo pagano representado por la nobleza senatorial de la Roma de su tiempo encabezada por Q. Aurelio Símaco: vid. Bravo, ‘El trasfondo del conflicto’, pp. 45–58, con bibliografía actualizada; y contra herejes: Bravo, Teodosio, especialmente pp. 175 y passim., y ahora Cabañero Martín, Teodosio I, passim.

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su Chronica con el primer año de su gobierno, como ‘símbolo de los nuevos tiempos’.60 No obstante, la figura del emperador hispano es objeto de valoraciones contrapuestas tanto en los autores tardoantiguos como en la historiografía moderna y reciente.61 Mientras que el galo Drepanio Pacato adula sin rubor en su panegírico ante el senado de Roma en 389 la personalidad de Teodosio como paradigma de ‘buen emperador’,62 el historiador bizantino Zósimo, a finales del siglo V, describe al emperador con los atributos del ‘mal gobernante’, proyectando una imagen de Teodosio que es, ante todo, la de un avaro, además de otros atributos negativos de su perfil moral y político: glotonería, molicie (‘tryphé’), ira, desidia, que gobierna con desmesura, practicando la injusticia y en su provecho propio.63 Sin embargo, este juego de testimonios contrarios no obedece tanto a la personalidad contradictoria del emperador como a los condicionamientos ideológicos de los autores tardoantiguos, incapaces de valorar con imparcialidad la obra política de Teodosio, bien por proximidad a los acontecimientos (Pacato), bien por compromiso con la ideología pagana y en oposición a los notorios avances de la religión cristiana (Zósimo). Pero probablemente el objetivo primordial de Zósimo, como historiador, era situarse deliberadamente en el lado opuesto a la historiografía cristiana, más o menos contemporánea de los hechos descritos y exclusivamente aduladora de la figura del emperador hispano. Por esta razón, Zósimo remonta el origen del mal a la política religiosa de los primeros emperadores cristianos, Constantino y sus sucesores, o más exactamente ‘al momento en que Diocleciano renunció al poder’ (305).64 Pero no sólo a ella. Además, prosigue Zósimo, Teodosio acabó 60 ab anno primo Theodosii augusti: ed. Mommsen, en MGH, AA, 5, p. 14; también Bravo, p. 172. Téngase en cuenta también que la Chronica de Hidacio es presentada en la Antigüedad tardía como continuatio de la de Jerónimo (hasta 378): ed. Tranoy; ed. Burgess. 61 Un estudio historiográfico sobre Teodosio en Maraval, Théodose le Grand; una revisión de la cuestión teodosiana, incluida la prosopografía, en Bravo, Teodosio, passim. 62 Nixon, Pacatus, pp. 105 y passim; y ahora también Nixon and Saylor, In Praise of Later Roman Emperors, pp. 437–516. 63 Sobre estas valoraciones, vid. Lomas, ‘Teodosio, paradigma de príncipe cristiano’, pp. 149–166; sin embargo, la ‘imagen’ proyectada por Zósimo es sin reservas la de ‘mal gobernante’ o, si se prefiere, ‘mal emperador’, además de perezoso para la acción, propenso a los vicios, a la molicie y con escasos recursos de mando: vid. Escribano, ‘La tryphé de Teodosio en la Historia nea de Zósimo’, pp. 49–58; y también el ‘testimonio despiadado’ de Zósimo, en Bravo, Teodosio, pp. 173 y passim.; además, son numerosos los pasajes de esta obra, en los que Zósimo critica severamente la obra política de Teodosio: Ibid., IV, 43, 2: ‘Teodosio […], olvidando en parte su excesiva molicie y recatando su obsesión por los placeres’ (ed. Candau, Nueva Historia, p. 388); ibid. IV, 50, 1–2: ‘se dedicaba a los placeres […], a la molicie […], a la incuria en él ingénita’ (ibid., pp. 397–398). 64 Sobre Constantino, aunque sin mencionarlo expresamente: Zós. Nueva Historia, II, 7.1: ‘Pero cuando, al hacer Diocleciano cesión del trono, fue relegada la ceremonia [cultos paganos], poco

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con la financiación pública de los cultos paganos para dedicar dichos recursos a gastos militares.65 Al hacerlo así, Teodosio se mostró como un emperador antisenatorial y contrario a los intereses de la aristocracia romana, al ser el responsable de una política militar claramente nefasta y de consecuencias irreversibles: pérdida de la hegemonía tradicional en el exterior, barbarización del ejército romano en el interior y, en definitiva, ruina del estado. Además, el emperador es considerado como el verdadero responsable de la pérdida de capacidad defensiva del Imperio, debido a su equivocada ‘política gótica’ de conciliación con los bárbaros, mientras que éstos lo único que perseguían era adueñarse un día de él.66 Frente a esta imagen, esencialmente negativa, de Zósimo, contamos también con otra imagen positiva, pero no menos idealizada de Orosio. En efecto, el presbítero hispano, que, como Hidacio, había convivido durante algún tiempo con los bárbaros asentados en el noroeste hispánico, era consciente de las debilidades internas del Imperio romano tardío y, en consecuencia, propuso una serie de soluciones irreales sobre la problemática política y social de su tiempo. En varios pasajes de Historiae Adversus paganos Orosio aboga expresamente por la necesaria colaboración entre romanos y bárbaros, ahora que muchos bárbaros han dejado las armas por el arado.67 En otro pasaje de su obra Orosio propone una solución sin precedentes para los problemas políticos del Imperio: la conveniencia de constituir un Imperio cristiano romano-bárbaro, en el que se uniera la ‘Romania’ de Gala Placidia, con la ‘Gothia’, representada por el rey visigodo Ataúlfo.68 a poco [el Imperio] se vino abajo, e imperceptiblemente su mayor parte llegó a quedar en manos de los bárbaros’ (ed. Candau, p. 179). 65 Zós. Nueva Historia, IV, 59, 2: ‘Teodosio dijo que el Estado se veía abrumado por los gastos que ocasionaban ceremonias y sacrif icios y que quería sustituir todo aquello y que […] las necesidades del ejército exigían mayores recursos’ (ed. Candau, p. 409). 66 Expresamente Zós. IV, 30, 1: [Teodosio] ‘al ver el fuerte descenso experimentado por los contingentes militares, permitió que viniesen a él cuantos de los bárbaros transdanubianos lo quisieron […], y se mezclaron con los soldados albergando en su interior el propósito de hacerse […] con las riendas del Estado hasta quedar dueños de todo él’ (ed. Candau, 1992, p. 365), y también Ibid. IV, 33, 3: ‘[…] y a todos los acogió, hasta que de nuevo quedó la situación en manos de los bárbaros por causa de la estulticia del Emperador’ [Teodosio] (ibid., p. 371). 67 Oros. Hist. VII, 41, 7: ‘A pesar de todo eso, inmediatamente después de estos hechos, los bárbaros, despreciando las armas, se dedicaron a la agricultura y respetan a los romanos que quedaron allí poco menos que como aliados y amigos’ (ed. Sánchez Salor, p. 274). 68 Oros. Hist. VII, 43, 5–6): [contaba Ataúlfo] ‘que él, en un primer momento, había deseado ardientemente que todo el Imperio Romano […] fuese de hecho y de nombre sólo de los godos y que, por hablar en lengua corriente, lo que antes fue Romania ahora fuese Gothia […], pero que cuando la experiencia probó que ni los godos […] podían en absoluto ser sometidos a leyes ni convenía abolir las leyes del Estado, prefirió buscar su gloria mediante la recuperación total y el engrandecimiento del Imperio Romano con la fuerza de los godos’ (ed. Sánchez Salor, p. 279).

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Con esta pretendida unión Orosio se desvinculaba también de las teorías pesimistas de algunos autores paganos que criticaron duramente la política conciliadora de algunos emperadores con los bárbaros y, sobre todo, la diletante actitud de Teodosio.

Obras citadas Alba López, Almudena, Teología política y polémica antiarriana. La influencia de las doctrinas cristianas en la ideología política del siglo IV (Salamanca: 2011). Alföldy, Géza, ‘La Historia Antigua y la investigación del fenómeno histórico’, Gerión 1 (1983), 39–62. Amiano, vid. E. Galletier (ed.); vid. G. Sabbah (ed.). Arce, Javier, ‘Roma’, in Historia de la teoría política, ed. by F. Vallespín Historia de la teoría política, (Madrid: 1990), pp. 67–215. Arce, Javier y Ricardo Olmos (coords.), Historiografía de la Arqueología y de la Historia Antigua en España (siglos XVIII–XX),(Madrid, 13–16 diciembre 1988) (Madrid: 1991). Arce, Javier, Bárbaros y romanos en Hispania, A.D. 409–507 (Madrid: 2005). Aróstegui, Julio, La investigación histórica. Teoría y método (Barcelona: 1995). Balsdon, John P.V.D., Romans and Aliens (Londres: 1979). Besse, Jean-Marc, ‘Lire Dardel aujourd’hui’, L’Espace Géographique, 1 (1988), 43–46. Bravo, Gonzalo, ‘Hechos y teoría en Historia (Antigua). Cuestiones teóricas en torno a un modelo/patrón de investigación’, Gerión 3 (1985), 19–41. Bravo, Gonzalo, ‘Introducción’, in Santiago Montero Díaz, Estudios sobre pensamiento antiguo e historiografía (Lleida: 1988), pp. 7–26. Bravo, Gonzalo, ‘Sobre las relaciones Iglesia-Estado en el Imperio Romano’, Gerión 7 (1989), 323–334. Bravo, Gonzalo, ‘Historiografía europea sobre el Bajo Imperio romano. Tendencias recientes y modelos de investigación’, in Publicaciones del Instituto de Historia Antigua y Medieval, Buenos Aires: Sección Historia Antigua 4, 1 (2008), 1–11. Bravo, Gonzalo, Teodosio. Último emperador romano, primer emperador católico (Madrid: 2010). Bravo, Gonzalo, ‘El trasfondo del conflicto Senado-emperador a fines del siglo IV d. C. Estrategias de propaganda y persuasión’, in Propaganda y persuasión en el mundo romano, ed. by Gonzalo Bravo, and Raúl González Salinero (Madrid– Salamanca: 2011), pp. 45–58. Bravo, Gonzalo, ‘¿Muertes virtuales? La manipulación de la muerte en la primera historiografía cristiana’, in Formas de morir y formas de matar en la Antigüedad

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romana, ed. by Gonzalo Bravo, and Raúl González Salinero (Madrid–Salamanca: 2013), pp. 95–106. Bravo, Gonzalo, ‘Iglesia e Imperio como sistemas de dominación: confrontaciones y compromisos’, in La Iglesia como sistema de dominación en la Antigüedad Tardía, coord. by José Fernández Ubiña, Alberto Quiroga Puertas, and Purificación Ubric Rabaneda (coords.) (Granada: 2015), pp. 23–40. Bravo, Gonzalo, ‘Otra forma de escribir la Historia (Antigua)’, Historiografías 11 (2016), 137–144. Bravo, Gonzalo, ‘¿Traición al Imperio o deslealtad al Emperador? La coyuntura política de Occidente a comienzos del siglo V (401–411)’, in Tradimento e traditori nella Tarda Antichità, ed. by L. Montecchio (Perugia: 2017), pp. 79–92. Bravo, Gonzalo, and Raúl González Salinero (eds.), Propaganda y persuasión en el mundo romano (Madrid–Salamanca: 2011). Brown, Peter, Power and Persuasion in Late Antiquity: Towards a Christian Empire (Madison, WI: 1992). Burgess, Richard W. (ed.), The Chronicle of Hydatius (Oxford: 1993). Burke, Peter (ed.), Formas de hacer historia (Madrid: 1993). Burston, William H., and D. Thompson (eds.), Studies in the Nature and Teaching of History (New York: 1967). Cabañero Martín, Víctor M., Teodosio I contra los herejes (Segovia: 2017). Candau Morón, José María (ed.), Zósimo. Nueva historia (Madrid: Biblioteca Clásica Gredos, 1992). Dardel, Eric, L’histoire, science du concret (París: 1946). Dumézil, Bruno, Les racines chrétiennes de l`Europe (París: 2005). Escribano, María Victoria, ‘Tyrannus en las Historiae de Orosio. Entre brevitas y adversum paganos’, Augustinianum 36 (1996), 185–214. Escribano, María Victoria, ‘La tryphé de Teodosio en la Historia nea de Zósimo’, in La Hispania de Teodosio, I, ed. by Ramón Teja, and C. Pérez (Salamanca: 1998), pp. 49–58. Escribano, María Victoria, ‘Usurpación y defensa de las Hispanias. Dídimo y Veriniano (408)’, Gerión 18 (2000), 509–534. Eusebio, vid. A. Velasco Delgado (ed.). Fernández Ubiña, José, ‘Le Concile d’Elvira et l’esprit du paganisme’, en DHA 19, 1 (1993), 309–318. Finley, Moses I., La economía de la antigüedad (México: 1986). Frend, William H.C., The Rise of Christianity (Londres: 1986). Galletier, Édouard (ed.), Ammien Marcellin. Histoires (París: Les Belles Lettres, 1968). García de Quevedo, Diana, ‘La antigua Roma y la ideología de la revolución americana’, Gerión, 23.1 (2005), 329–343.

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González Salinero, Raúl, ‘La idea de Romanitas en el pensamiento histórico-político de Prudencio’, in Toga y Daga. Teoría y praxis de la política en Roma, ed. by Gonzalo Bravo, and Raúl González Salinero (Madrid: 2010a), pp. 349–361. González Salinero, Raúl, Infelix Iudaea. La polémica antijudía en el pensamiento histórico-político de Prudencio (Madrid: 2010b). Gruzinski, Serge, ¿Para qué sirve la historia? (Madrid: 2018). Hidacio, vid. Th. Mommsen (ed.); A. Tranoy (ed.); R.W. Burgess (ed.) Hopkins, Keith, Conquistadores y esclavos (Barcelona: 1981). Hopkins, Keith, Death and Renewal (Cambridge: 1983). Jenkins, Keith, Rethinking History (Londres: 1991). Jones, Arthur Hughe M., John Robert Martindale, and John Morris, The Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire, I, A.D. 260–395 (Cambridge: 1971). (= PLRE, I). Kulikowski, Michael, Rome`s Gothic Wars from the Third Century to Alaric (New York: 2013). Lomas Salmonte, Francisco Javier, ‘Teodosio, paradigma de príncipe cristiano’, SHHA, 8 (1990), 149–166. MacMullen, Ramsay, Paganism in the Roman Empire (Westford, MA: 1981). MacMullen, Ramsay, Christianizing the Roman Empire (A.D. 100–400) (Westford, MA: 1984). MacMullen, Ramsay, Corruption and the Decline of Rome (Princeton, NJ: 1988). Maraval, Pierre, Théodose le Grand. Le pouvoir et la foi (París: 2009). Marrou, Honoré-Irené, El conocimiento histórico (Barcelona: 1968). Momigliano, Arnaldo, Studies in Historiography (Londres: 1966). Momigliano, Arnaldo, ‘Le regole del gioco nello studio della storia antica’, in Storia e storiografia antica (Bolonia: 1987), pp. 15–24. Momigliano, Arnaldo, ‘Historiografía pagana y cristiana en el siglo IV’, in El conflicto entre el paganismo y el cristianismo en el siglo IV, (edic. orig. 1963), ed. by Arnaldo Momigliano (Madrid: 1989), pp. 95–115. Mommsen, Theodor, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Auctores Antiquissimi, 5 (Berlín: 1879). Nagel, Ernest, La estructura de la ciencia (Buenos Aires: 1981). Nixon, C.E.V., Pacatus: Panegyric to the Emperor Theodosius (Liverpool: 1987). Nixon, C.E.V., and Barbara Saylor (eds.), In Praise of Later Roman Emperors: ‘Latinius Pacatus Drepanius: Panegyric of Theodosius (389)’ (Berkeley–Los Angeles, CA: 2015), pp. 437–516. Orosio, vid. E. Sánchez Salor (ed.) Rohrbacher, David, The Historians of Late Antiquity (Londres: 2002). Sabbah, Guy (ed.), Ammien Marcellin. Histoire, III, Livres XXIX–XXXI (París: Les Belles Lettres, 1987).

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Sánchez Salor, Eustaquio (ed.), Paulo Orosio. Historias, 2 vols. (Madrid: Biblioteca Clásica Gredos, 1982). Sánchez Salor, Eustaquio, Historiografía latino-cristiana. Principios, contenido, forma (Roma: 2006). Sancho Rocher, Laura (coord.), La Antigüedad como paradigma. Espejismos, mitos y silencios en el uso de la historia del mundo clásico por los modernos (Zaragoza: 2015). Santos, Juan y Ramón Teja (eds.), El cristianismo. Aspectos históricos de su origen y difusión en Hispania, en Revisiones de Historia Antigua III (Vitoria–Gasteiz: 2000). Sanz Serrano, Rosa, ‘Aristocracias paganas en Hispania Tardía (s. V–VII)’ Gerión Extra (2007), 443–480. Teja, Ramón (ed.), Historia de los monjes de Siria. Teodoreto de Ciro (Intr., trad. y notas) (Madrid: 2008). Teodoreto, vid. R. Teja (ed.) Topolsky, Jerzi, Metodología de la historia, (Madrid: 1982). Tranoy, Alain (ed.), Chronique d’Hydace, 2 vols. (París: Sources Chrétiennes, 1974). Vallespín, Fernando (ed.), Historia de la teoría política (Madrid: 1990). Velasco Delgado, Argimiro (ed.), Eusebio de Cesarea. Historia Eclesiástica, 2 vols. (Madrid: Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, 1973). Vilar, Pierre, Pensar históricamente. Reflexiones y recuerdos (Barcelona: 1997). Vilella, Josep, ‘Biografía crítica de Orosio’, Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum 43 (2000), 94–121. Wells, Peter S., Granjas, aldeas y ciudades. Comercio y orígenes del urbanismo en la protohistoria europea (Barcelona: 1988). Wells, Peter S., The Barbarians Speak: How the Conquered Peoples Shaped Roman Europe, (Princeton, NJ: 2001). White, Michael, Foundation of Historical Knowledge, (New York: 1965). Zósimo, vid. J.M. Candau Morón (ed.).

About the author Gonzalo Bravo is Professor of Ancient History at the Complutense University of Madrid and currently serves as Professor Emeritus of this university. His lines of research often include historiographical and theoretical contents, referring – with exception – to late Roman society and the transition to the Middle Ages.

3.

From Christian Historiography to the Emergence of National Histories: Spanish Historiography between Romans and Visigoths Immacolata Aulisa Abstract Between the fifth and seventh centuries, the historiographical genre of Christian inspiration and Roman orientation gradually gave way to the national histories of the Roman-Germanic peoples settled in the pars occidentis of the empire. Because of their structure, national histories have many things in common with the ancient historiographical works but differ in their ideological foundation and interpretation of the episodes narrated. Christian authors combine ecclesiastical and political events, interpreting them according to a providential conception of history. This phenomenon can also be observed in Spanish historiography. The writings of Hydatius of Lemica, John of Biclaro, Isidore of Seville, and Julian of Toledo provide us with valuable insights into the various reactions to the invasions of Germanic peoples in the Iberian Peninsula and other events otherwise unknown. Keywords: Christian Historiography, National Histories, Romans, Visigoths

The proliferation of known ‘Ecclesiastical Histories’ should be located in the Greek-Byzantine world, where a theological-political reflection on the empire, conceived as universal and providential, made inroads. Eusebius of Caesarea is unanimously considered the founder of this Christian historiographic genre, which spread in later centuries in both the East and the West. Eusebius’s Chronici canones, in fact, radically transformed the formulation of Christian Chronography and he created a new literary genre

Ubric Rabaneda, P. (ed.), Writing History in Late Antique Iberia: Historiography in Theory and Practice from the Fourth to the Seventh Century. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2022 doi 10.5117/9789463729413_ch03

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with the Historia Ecclesiastica. This author conceived a new type of history, unconventional in outlook and methodological in approach, grounded in a new religion. He established and transmitted the notion that God’s plan of salvation realises itself through the centuries.1 Eusebius’s notion is characterised as a providential vision of history, devoid of free will. This is one of the key differences that would soon distinguish pagan from Christian historiography. The first was based on free judgement, which was a source of pride for ancient historians. Conversely, the other was grounded in scriptural authority.2 Concerning pagan historiography, Eusebius’s originality lies in the object of his history, namely, the church/ churches, which he characterises as the people or the Christian nation (ethnos). Indeed, the very title of his work, Historia Ecclesiastica, does not refer to the church as a theological and institutional entity.3 In this work, the word ‘church’ seldom appears in the singular, indicating the theological notion of a universal church intended as an assembly united by faith, feeling, and institutions. In general, the term is used in the plural to indicate ‘churches’, namely, widely scattered communities of the faithful. Even the term ‘Christian’ refers to an ethnos, a single people, albeit distinct, ‘because [it is] new and widely spread’. 4 Eusebius’s literary initiative was truly original.5 In his time, it was unthinkable for a pagan to compose the history of a religious community. Pagans regarded religion as a practice or a cult that had been handed down for centuries. Immutability was, therefore, one of the central elements of religious practice. One could describe mythological beliefs and cultural practices but could not tell their history. They had no history. As Manlio Simonetti suggests: ‘Eusebio ha avuto l’idea di scrivere una storia della chiesa cristiana, cioè di un movimento di carattere non politico ma religioso, perché ha avvertito che esso presentava caratteri che lo individuavano in modo specifico nel complesso delle religioni pagane e anche nei riguardi della religione giudaica’.6 One of the main features of incipient Christian historiography was its universality due to it being predicated on a historical-salvific event that 1 Siniscalco, ‘La storiografia nel Tardo Antico’, pp. 99–122; Siniscalco, ‘Storiografia cristiana’, p. 3319. 2 Momigliano, ‘Storiografia pagana e cristiana’, p. 102. 3 Prinzivalli, ‘Genere storico’, p. 74. 4 Hist. eccl. 1, 4, 2, ed. E. Schwartz and Th. Mommsen, Leipzig, GCS 9/2, p. 38. 5 Mazza, ‘Sulla teoria della storiograf ia cristiana’, pp. 335–389; La storia ecclesiastica di Eusebio. 6 Simonetti, ‘Tra innovazione e tradizione’, p. 53.

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concerned humanity as a whole. In this perspective, Christian historiography forwent one of the critical principles of Thucydidian history, which only dealt with contemporary history; it not only endeavoured to keep the memory of the past, but also projected itself into the future, insofar as it stemmed from a theological conception.7 Christian historiography presents itself as a universal history, both from a temporal (beginning with Adam) and spatial (the whole known world) point of view. The framework of the historical account continues to be the same, yet the nature of the narrated events and the episodes at the centre of the narrative are new.8 The kind of Christian historiography that developed from the beginning of the fourth century is mostly found in the Chronographs. These are characterised by a universal and providential conception of history, in light of the centrality that is given to Old and New Testament stories and the close link between the events of the historia salutis and those of secular history.9 Critics have long noted the commonalities between this literary genre and the pagan,10 but have also highlighted the specificity of each work. Such specificity is generally due to a series of factors, such as the personality of the author and the different historical and environmental circumstances in which they operated, particularly between the fifth and seventh centuries, a time of profound change in both the East and the West. In this period, Christian ecclesiastical historiography in Latin concerned itself with the multiple reactions to the unending series of invasions by Germanic tribes into the Western Roman Empire. These works are therefore of particular importance as they shed light on events otherwise unknown to us. The Christian historiographic genre, oriented to the ideals of Roman culture, was gradually replaced by the national histories of the RomanGermanic populations that had emerged in the pars occidentis of the empire and had been increasingly absorbed in the Latin-Christian culture of the time. Formally, national histories fall into the literary structure of ancient historiographic works; however, their ideological foundation and interpretative framework is different. Christian authors never refrained from displaying their identity, not only when combining ecclesiastical and political news, but also when it came to further bolstering this providentialist conception of history. In this light, each peoples’ history occurs according 7 Luiselli, ‘Indirizzo universale’, p. 526 and passim. 8 Simonetti, ‘Tra innovazione e tradizione’, p. 54. 9 Siniscalco, ‘Storiografia cristiana’, p. 3321; Siniscalco, ‘La Storia Ecclesiastica di Eusebio’, pp. 6–11. 10 Cf. Cracco Ruggini, ‘The Ecclesiastical Histories’, pp. 107–126; idem, ‘Universalità e campanilismo’, pp. 159–194; Siniscalco, Il senso della storia.

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to the way, and the order, it is determined by divine will. Expressions such as Deo iuvante or Deo iubente, with which these ancient authors begin their narrative, in addition to being a literary topos, often reflect a profound religious conviction.11 This shift can also be found in the Spanish historiography between the fifth and seventh centuries. In the context of the Western Roman Empire, the Iberian region was considered peripheral, both geographically and ethnically, as only Iberians lived in that region.12 As Jocelyn Nigel Hillgarth13 points out, Spanish historians of Late Antiquity did not create new models for their works but continued to abide by established models such as that of Chronicon, following celebrated authors such as Eusebius and Jerome or their students. Nevertheless, while it is undisputed that well-established models continued to be used, modern historical criticism pays attention to how such models were used and how Spanish authors adapted them to their objectives.

Hydatius of Lemica One of the most interesting historians of this period was Hydatius (400–470), the Bishop of Aquae Flaviae in Galicia, who was active during the barbarian invasion of Spain; a period of time in which Spain’s future had yet to be written. Hydatius’s Chronicon, albeit subject to mixed reactions,14 represents our primary and most important source in understanding the events that occurred on the Iberian Peninsula during this time. While most critics recognise the historical value of Hydatius’s work, some of the information in it is subject to close scrutiny as it unclear whether the work’s inaccuracies are the fault of the author or the copyists who may have modified or altered the original text.15 Some have even called Hydatius, ‘the best Latin historian to survive between Ammianus Marcellinus and Gregory of Tours, and probably the best in his genre in all of Late Antiquity’.16 The text, which deals with events from 379 to 468, continues Jerome’s work, maintaining its universalistic character. The stated goal of his Chronicon – to 11 Simonetti, ‘Tra innovazione e tradizione’, p. 60. 12 Luiselli, Storia culturale, p. 595; Blázquez, ‘La historiografía’, pp. 15–27. 13 Hillgarth, ‘Historiography’, p. 262. 14 Cf. Tranoy, Hydace, 7; García Penas, ‘A crónica do bispo Hidacio’; López Silva, A Crónica de Idacio de Limia; Bernárdez Vilar, Idacio Lémico; Candelas Colondrón, O mundo de Hidacio. 15 Cf. Courtois, ‘Auteurs et scribes’, p. 50; Burgess, The Chronicle, pp. 27–31. 16 Burgess, The Chronicle, p. 10.

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continue Jerome’s universal Chronicon17 – is, however, only partially realised. During the course of the narrative, it becomes clear that the information provided comes from his personal experience of the events that occurred in his country, as his report is predominantly focused on Spain, and Galicia in particular. As Hydatius himself claims at the beginning of his work, his information came from written sources, oral accounts, and his first-hand experience of the events, especially from 427, when he became a bishop.18 As Eusebius and Jerome before him, Hydatius understood contemporary events as an expression of the divine providence, but he had to juggle between the Roman Empire on one hand and the barbarians on the other: ‘He cannot trust either the Empire or the barbarians’.19 As mentioned above, no other Late Antiquity author exhibits more of an interest in diplomacy than Hydatius. However, neither his sources of inspiration, such as Eusebius and Jerome, nor other authors, such as Prosper, Marcellinus Comes, and Cassiodorus, appreciate diplomacy. Andrew Gillet20 has noted that Hydatius’s accounts of diplomatic interventions are almost double those of fifth- and sixth-century authors. Despite this, he does not seem to classify such episodes as isolated events or attempts by key figures to expand their prestige, preferring to discuss them in a broader and more articulated political framework to stress their significance.21 Similarly, if Hydatius was able to draw a rather complete picture of diplomatic activity taking place within the Iberian Peninsula, he almost entirely ignored the series of diplomatic interventions happening outside Spain’s purview. Hydatius stood by helplessly while major upheavals were taking place: in his work, he can only regretfully record the destruction caused by the barbarians and the chain of suffering and misfortune that befell his land. In line with earlier Christian tradition, he strives to connect contemporary events with episodes prophesied in the Old Testament. For instance, drawing from Ezekiel 14:21, Hydatius interprets the barbarian invasions as a form of divine punishment resulting from Priscillian’s heresy.22 17 Praef. 2–5, ed. Burgess, The Chronicle, pp. 72–74; cf. Nautin, ‘L’introduction d’Hydace’, pp. 143–153; Burgess, Studies in Eusebian; Fernández Conde, El providencialismo radical, p. 140; Wieser, ‘The Chronicle of Hydatius’, pp. 11–12. 18 Cf. Praef. 5–7, ed. Burgess, The Chronicle, pp. 72–74. On the sources used by Hydatius, cf. Gillet, Envoys, pp. 50–53. 19 Carreras Ares, ‘La historia universal’, p. 182. 20 Gillet, Envoys, p. 40. 21 Gelarda, ‘Guerre e diplomazia’, p. 295. 22 Chron., s.a. 409, ed. Burgess, The Chronicle, p. 82; cf. Tranoy, Hydace, 26. Hydatius describes human beings and ferocious beasts eating each other to survive, mothers driven to kill, cooking and eating their children. He then recalls Ezekiel’s four scourges, who, according to the Lord’s

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Hydatius’s work is important for better understanding the Roman-Iberian perspective on contemporary events, and also the relationship with the central power to which the Roman-Iberian elements remained loyal. They expected the central government to restore the conditions that existed prior to 409.23 It should be noted that Hydatius, a political and religious figure who was loyal to Rome through his loyalty to the Theodosians,24 felt part of the Roman Empire. His allegiance to the emperors and hostility towards usurpers were Hydatius’s way of affirming his Roman identity in the face of his country’s invasion.25 He believes that the end of the Theodosian dynasty heralds the collapse of the Roman West. Despite his great admiration for the imperial family, Hydatius is aware that Rome’s political and military power are no longer in the hands of the emperor, but in those of his generals.26 Hydatius does not shy away from critiquing Valentinian III’s unsuccessful military attempts in Spain,27 nor from expressing his approval for Aetius.28 In effect, Hydatius and Aetius share common political ideas on the barbarians and diplomacy.29 Additionally, in 431, Hydatius, along with other Galician bishops, went on a diplomatic mission to Aetius to resolve the conflicts between Galicians and Sueves. This diplomatic mission by Hydatius, who was chosen for his culture and connections, further confirms the limited presence of civil authorities in Galicia: bishops expressed the aristocracy’s and the Galicians’ needs; announcement, would strike the idolatrous people: the sword, the famine, the beasts of the earth, the plague. Hydatius’s allusion to Ezekiel’s prophecy of the four scourges sent by God to convert Israel, whose heart is hardened by her idolatry, suggests that Hydatius may have emphasised the description of these evils for confessional reasons. He may have considered them the deserved divine punishment for a recalcitrant people unable, or perhaps unwilling, to stop the heresies of their time. On this topic, cf. Vilella Masana and Maymó Capdevila, ‘Religion and Policy’, pp. 193–236; Lizzi Testa, ‘I vescovi, i barbari’, p. 38. 23 Gelarda, ‘Guerre e diplomazia’, p. 295. 24 Zecchini, Ricerche, p. 230. 25 For instance, Hydatius refuses to recognise Avitus as rightful emperor, as he considered him a king imposed by the Goths (cf. Chron., s.a. 455; s.a. 456–457, ed. Burgess, The Chronicle, pp. 104–108). 26 Tranoy, Hydace, 21. 59. 27 Valentinian III was guilty of murdering Aetius, the last stronghold of ‘Romanity’, but on several occasions, he showed that weapons were his favourite way to resolve the issues with barbarians in Spain and Gaul. Furthermore, his policy of alliances with the Italic aristocracy was clearly in opposition to the Gallo-Hispanic one. On this topic, cf. Molè, Uno storico del V secolo, p. 44; Gelarda, ‘Guerre e diplomazia’, p. 300. 28 Tranoy, Hydace, 59–60; Molè, Uno storico del V secolo, p. 54; Zecchini, Aezio, pp. 188–189; García Moreno, ‘Élites e Iglesia’, pp. 239–241. 29 Sirago, Galla Placidia, pp. 339–342; Zecchini, Aezio, p. 189.

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they were political mediators and key players in diplomatic activity.30 For example, Hydatius tells us that a renewed peace between the Sueves and the Galicians was concluded in 433, sub interventu episcopali:31 this peace, then ratified by Aetius in 438, was effectively reached as a result of the negotiations conducted by the Galician bishops in lieu of temporarily absent civil authorities. Roman authority was increasingly perceived as weak and detached, and ultimately unable to efficiently deal with the needs of the Iberian Peninsula.32 For Hydatius, the Goths were enemies of both his country and the empire, and even more dangerous than the militarily and politically stronger Sueves.33 He also considered Goths to be treacherous to the core, as they often pretended to intervene in line with Roman authority when they just wanted to expand their power and territorial influence. In this context, for Hydatius, Theodoric II became the epitome of ‘treachery’. Upon reaching Braga in 455, he pretended to act on behalf of Ravenna despite taking numerous Romans captive while desecrating and destroying Catholic churches. Hydatius is conscious of his role in defending the Orthodox faith and he is aware that heresies, particularly Manichaeism, Priscillianism, and Arianism, pose a greater danger to the Church than the barbarian invasions.34 In Hydatius’s work, cities seem to be highly resilient to barbarian invasions compared to rural areas, which fell under the invaders’ control.35 While Hydatius’s cherished desire, as declared at the beginning of his Chronicon, is to pass on knowledge of the events that led to the present decline to future generations,36 the epilogue of his work37 displays a less hopeful view. The description of ill-omened portents and the premonition of impending misfortune, a prelude to the end of the world, demonstrate Hydatius’s conception of a finis imperii and finis temporum.38 Scholars39 30 Tranoy, Hydace, II, 65. 31 Chron., s.a. 432, ed. Burgess, The Chronicle, p. 92. 32 García Moreno, ‘La iglesia’, p. 48. 33 Cf. Gelarda, ‘Guerre e diplomazia’, p. 304. 34 Fernández Conde, El providencialismo radical, p. 143. 35 Tranoy, Hydace, 45. 36 Chron., Praef. 6, ed. Burgess, The Chronicle, p. 74. 37 Chron., s.a. 468, ed. Burgess, The Chronicle, p. 122. 38 Zecchini, Ricerche, p. 232. 39 Fernández Conde, El providencialismo radical, p. 142; cf. also Mühlberger, The Fifth-Century; Cardelle de Hartmann, ‘Las lecturas de Hidacio’, pp. 241–256; idem, Philologische Studien; Arce, ‘El catastrofismo de Hydacio’, pp. 219–228; Bodelón García, ‘Idacio’; Burgess, ‘Hydatius’, pp. 321–332; García Moreno, ‘Expectativas milenaristas’, pp. 103–110; Candelas Colondrón, O mundo de Hidacio; Wieser, ‘The Chronicle of Hydatius’ and the contribution of Laura Marzo in this volume.

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have noted that the Chronicon displays apocalyptic and eschatological elements. The immanence of the parousia and the end of time, recognised as a consequence of the many ills of the Church and its time, represents another feature of Hydatius’s providentialist view. His writing is replete with references to the Scriptures, particularly the book of Daniel, from direct citations to allusions to biblical episodes and figures. Of particular importance are Hydatius’s allusions to important figures of saints, such as Ambrose, Martin of Tours, Augustine, Stephen, and Paulinus of Nola. It should be noted that saints are considered an essential part of the Sacred History. 40 As a whole, the figure of Hydatius embodies both ‘Romanity’ and Catholicism. 41 His conception of history has a ‘Romanocentric’ outlook and is overtly anti-barbarian. Barbarians are perceived as hostile elements as he considers them to be the root cause of the disintegration of the Roman state and the crisis of the Iberian-Roman system. Nevertheless, Hydatius continued to believe that the barbarians could integrate into the societas Romana by adopting a Roman and Catholic identity.

John of Biclaro The Catholic Goth, John of Biclaro (540–621), who became the Bishop of Gerona, wrote under different historical circumstances. He studied in Constantinople and, upon his return to Spain, witnessed not only the unification of Spain during the reign of Leovigild, but also the conversion of his son, Reccared I, to Catholicism. This event marked the fusion between Catholic and political power, which lasted throughout the seventh century until the Arab invasion. John of Biclaro framed his Chronicon42 according to a parallel series of Visigoth kings and Byzantine emperors, continuing the work of Victor of Tunnuna from the years 567 to 590. His work climaxes with the conversion of the Goths to Catholicism – an event of crucial significance and the kernel of his writing – and the peace treaty between Emperor Maurice and the Persians. John is aware of living in a Visigoth Spain and that the Roman 40 Cf. Fernández Conde, El providencialismo radical, p. 145. 41 Vilella Masana, ‘Idacio’, p. 40; Gelarda, ‘Guerre e diplomazia’, p. 295. 42 Chron., in MGH, Scipt. Ant. 11, pp. 211–220; Campos, Juan de Biclaro. The work, as we have it today, dates back to 602 and was probably copied by a monk working in the Benedictine monastery of Biclaro but was completed by the author in 590 (see Díaz y Díaz, ‘La transmisión’, pp. 57–76).

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elements of it are well integrated.43 It has been suggested that one can follow ‘the Byzantinisation of the Visigothic realm stage by stage’44 in his work. In John’s work, Byzantium is still seen as the greatest Christian power in the East, able to convert the barbarians to Christianity and conquer North Africa, the Saracens, and the various Caucasian tribes. In North Africa, for instance, he claims that several tribes were incorporated into the empire and converted to Christianity. 45 It could be argued that a young John saw Byzantium as the Eusebian vehicle of God’s action in the world. 46 Eusebius is mentioned in the praefatio to his work. 47 John may have become acquainted with the Eusebian vision of the empire from either his direct reading of Eusebius’s work or through f ifth-century Eastern ecclesiastical writers, or even through the work of his contemporary, Evagrius Scholasticus. 48 Juan José Carreras Ares argues that John’s Chronicon is ‘una historia imperial con un apéndice continuado de historia española’. 49 Albeit emphatic, Ares’s remark suggests that John’s interest in Spain is not paramount. In his work, however, the significance of Spain’s events gradually grows. Leovigild and his sons attempt to emulate Byzantium by adapting Roman policies in the West, especially in Spain. As with other historians and ‘men of the Church’ of the fifth and sixth centuries, John believes that Constantine is the starting point of the contemporary period of history. For him, Reccared I is the new Constantine. In his account of the Third Council of Toledo in 589, the king renews Constantine’s fight against Arianism and completes the task.50 John, therefore, celebrates the growing power of the Visigoth kingdom as if it were another Byzantium. However, his interest in the real Byzantium never wanes. He also makes use of biblical stories to interpret current events. Just consider the parallel he draws between Reccared I’s victory over Claudius, Duke of Lusitania, and Gideon’s victory over the Midianites in Judges 6:9.51 43 Simonetti, ‘Giovanni di Biclaro’, p. 1545. 44 Hillgarth, ‘Historiography’, pp. 266–267. 45 Chron., s.a. 569, 1; 575, 3; 576, 2, in MGH, Scipt. Ant. 11, pp. 212. 214. 46 Hillgarth, ‘Historiography’, p. 268. 47 Chron., Praef., in MGH, Scipt. Ant. 11, p. 211. 48 Cf. Downey, ‘The Perspective’, pp. 60–63; Kaegi, Byzantium, pp. 219–221. 49 Carreras Ares, ‘La historia universal’, p. 185. 50 Chron., s.a. 590, 1, in MGH, Scipt. Ant. 11, p. 219: Memoratus vero Reccaredus rex, ut diximus, sancto intererat concilio, renovans temporibus nostris antiquum principem Constantinum Magnum sanctam synodam Nicaenam sua illustrasse praesentia. 51 Chron, s.a. 589, 2, in MGH, Scipt. Ant. 11, p. 218.

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Even though both Hydatius and John of Biclaro continued the Chronica of previous authors, the historical picture they present is as different as the perspective they adopted to describe the events.

Isidore of Seville The most important figure in Spanish historiography between the sixth and seventh centuries is Isidore of Seville (560–636). He attempted to complete the national unif ication of the Kingdom of Toledo, which had become Catholic, and to renew the Spanish Church following two centuries of unrest and persecution.52 His Chronica53 is the result of an ambitious project, which is presented as a temporum summa,54 a ‘universal history’, moving from creation55 to the fourth year of Sisebut (615), in the first edition, and the tenth regnal year of King Suinthila (631), in the second.56 Following the historical periodisation scheme of the six ages of the world – first conceived by Augustine – and after drawing a distinction between history and annals,57 Isidore demonstrates knowledge of two seminal works of fourth-century Christian Chronica: those of Eusebius and his Latin translation of Jerome. At the request of King Sisebut, Isidore also wrote a historiographic work on Goths, Vandals, and Sueves. This work, however, is focused on the people who gave rise to the Kingdom of Spain, of which he was a subject: the Visigoths. The Historia Gothorum58 is more thorough than the Historia Vandalorum and the Historia Sueborum. The contrast between Sisenand’s expectations and Isidore’s interests can shed light on the Roman-Visigoth cross-cultural 52 On issues related to the transmission of Isidore’s texts, cf. Díaz y Díaz, Isidoriana; Veláquez, ‘Revisiones’, pp. 67–79. 53 Chron., in CCh 112. 54 Chron. 1, 2; 2, 2, in CCh 112, pp. 6–7. 55 On this, Isidore moves away from his predecessors: Eusebius, Jerome, Augustine starting from Adam. 56 Cf. Fontaine, Isidore de Séville. Genèse et originalité, p. 220. On the transmission of the work, cf. Velázquez, ‘Revisiones’, p. 72 and passim. 57 Etym. 1, 44, ed. W.M. Linsay: Annales sunt res singulorum annorum […] Historia autem multorum annorum vel temporum est, cuius diligentia annui commentarii in libris delati sunt. Inter historiam autem et annales hoc interest, quod historia est eorum temporum quae vidimus, annales vero sunt eorum annorum quos aetas nostra non novit. 58 Hist. Goth., in MGH, Scipt. Ant. 11, pp. 267–303. The only two extant versions of the work differ in terms of their content, sources and form: cf. Rodríguez Alonso, Las Historias; Fontaine, Isidore de Séville. Genèse et originalité, p. 224.

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encounter. The Romanised Visigothic king, Sisenand, commissioned Isidore to write a history of all the gentes that occupied Roman Iberia and, being both Hispano-Roman and pro-Visigoths, Isidore met the king’s expectations by focusing his attention on the Visigoths.59 National unification gave Isidore a positive view of the Visigothic Empire: Gothorum antiquissimam esse gentem certum est […] Nulla enim gens in orbe fuit, quae Romanum imperium adeo fatigaverit;60 Goths ought not to be considered Spain’s invaders, but, inheritors of the new Roman Empire, now Christian. Particularly instructive is the Laus Spaniae,61 which precedes the Historia. By drawing language and themes from Roman poetry, from Virgil to Prudentius, Isidore praises the Goths and celebrates a peninsular kingdom where both Hispano-Romans and Visigoths are called on to unite as the same people under the authority of Toledo’s kings. The Roman and Gothic ideological heritage of the kings of Toledo – successors of the Roman emperors in Spain – features prominently in Isidore’s tribute.62 In his account of the military events involving Goths and Romans, Isidore attempts to defend both traditions. The first, national, tradition underscores the Goths’ military prowess, which secured repeated victories for them. The second, Roman, tradition made it possible for Isidore to highlight the military capability of some Roman generals or emperors, whose victories he could not deny.63 His Historia Gothorum concludes with the ultimate triumph of the Gothic monarchy in the Iberian Peninsula. However, still evaluated their power with respect to Byzantium. For example, a ‘Roman’ (Byzantine) victory over the Goths is considered underserved because it resulted from deceit, as the Byzantines attacked on a Sunday.64 In his Historia Gothorum, Isidore celebrates Spain as a Visigothic land, open to the barbarian world. Along with the Chronica, Isidore traces Spain’s unfolding national history through a synopsis of universal chronology.65 The histories of a people and salvation are intertwined and patterned according to erstwhile Christian chronicles. By translating and completing Eusebius’s 59 Luiselli, Storia culturale, p. 591; Luiselli, La formazione della cultura europea, pp. 276–277. 60 Hist. Goth. 1–2, in MGH, Scipt. Ant. 11, p. 268. 61 Laus Spaniae, in MGH, Scipt. Ant. 11, p. 267. 62 Cf. Fontaine, Isidore de Séville. Genèse et originalité, pp. 361–377; Fontaine, ‘Un manifeste politique’, pp. 61–68. 63 Cf. Cazier, Isidore de Séville, pp. 17–18. 64 Hist. Goth. 42, in MGH, Scipt. Ant. 11, p. 284. 65 Fontaine, ‘Isidoro di Siviglia’, p. 1837 ; Rus Rufino, ‘Unidad y paz’, pp. 81–94.

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history, Jerome provided the first literary model in Latin. Isidore recovers the pagan literary tradition – that was typical of Spanish literature – and uses patristic sources.66 He is also the author of an original type of Christian literature in Spain. His De viris illustribus67 continues the works of Jerome and Gennadius of Massilia and concentrates on the key players of a province that turned into ‘a nation’. Isidore’s writings covey a sense of independence of  Visigothic Spain and affirm its value as compared with the ancient masters of the Mediterranean,68 now politically faded into the background. Furthermore, Isidore counts Justinian – whom he considers a heretic – among the greatest of the Byzantine emperors. In Isidore’s time, such a judgement communicated theological independence.69 Accordingly, as the Historia affirmed a kind of political independence, so the Chronica and De viris illustribus functioned as a public declaration of theological freedom. It should be stressed, however, that Isidore wrote a Historia Gothorum rather than a history of  Spain. There has been much discussion about whether there is a ‘nationalist’ sentiment in Isidore’s writings. Most interpreters caution against the use of the label ‘Hispano-Visigothic nation’, preferring to designate it a Catholic Gothic monarchy, to which Isidore expressed full membership. Isidore’s innovation does involve glorifying Spain, but by exalting the Goths. In the final analysis, Isidore did not write a national history but a royal one. For Isidore, Visigothic Spain is a new political, religious, and cultural entity. He contributed to its formation through his writings, his relationship with the kings of Toledo and the local representatives of the Visigothic administration, and, finally, through his exercising of ecclesial and conciliar responsibilities. Isidore often expressed and defended his multifarious identities, Roman and Western, Catholic and Latin, in the face of an Eastern, often heretic, ‘Romanity’. He supported the Catholic authority in Spain and considered it the legitimate successor to the Christian Empire of the West.70 66 Fontaine, Isidore de Séville et la culture classique; idem, Isidore de Séville. Genèse et originalité; Inglebert, ‘Isidore de Séville en son monde’, pp. 109–122. 67 On the transmission of the work cf. Codoñer Merino, El ‘De viris illustribus’. 68 Cf. Hist. Goth. 70, in MGH, Scipt. Ant. 11, p. 295: Sed postquam Sisebutus princeps regni sumpsit sceptra, ad tantam felicitatis virtutem provecti sunt, ut non solum terras, sed et ipsa maria suis armis adeant subactusque serviat illis Romanus miles, quibus servire tot gentes et ipsam Spaniam videt. 69 Madoz, ‘El concilio de Calcedonia’, pp. 189–204; Hillgarth, ‘Historiography’, p. 297. 70 Fontaine, Isidore de Séville. Genèse et originalité, p. 376.

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Julian of Toledo Julian of Toledo (642–690) wrote during a time when Spain was fully Catholic. Julian’s religious and political activity led to Toledo becoming the Iberian Church’s primary seat and he attended the councils held there (from the 12th to the 15th council). For Julian, the Roman Empire no longer existed. Now, the Franks were the enemies and he used all his rhetorical skills against them. The bishop firmly believed that the Spanish Church was a unique reality and Toledo was its primary seat. The formal approval of his Apologetic by the Spanish Church during the 15th Council of Toledo is an indication of the Church’s self-awareness. The consciousness of its own identity was enough to risk provoking Rome, despite unpredictable consequences.71 From 682, and fearing for the ecclesiastical unity of the Visigothic monarchy, Julian also tried to unify Spanish liturgy by establishing common norms and rituals. His Historia de Wamba72 narrates the crowning of the Visigothic king Wamba in 672, in the cathedral of Toledo. The account continues with the story of the infighting and insurrection that erupted in the Pyrenees and Septimania soon after Wamba’s coronation. Whereas the idea was conceived when the events were taking place, the literary work was only written down in 681. The author has a fresh style and endeavours to delve deeper into the characters’ psychology, as illustrious authors such as Tacitus, Livy, Sallust, Virgil, and Ovid73 had done before him, even including direct speeches.74 Julian’s choice to imitate classical historiography is probably connected to a lack of contemporary literary models, but could also represent a deliberate choice to equate the history of the Visigothic Empire to that of the glorious Imperial Rome.75 On the other hand, it is also not possible to easily determine whether Julian’s application of historiographic classical models to his writing is intentional or results from his direct reading of historical works, or whether 71 Cf. Mansi 12, pp. 10–17 and CCh 115, pp. 129–139. Cf. also Madoz, ‘Fuentes teológico-literarias’, pp. 399–417; Hillgarth, ‘El Prognosticon’, pp. 5–61; idem, ‘Las fuentes’, pp. 97–118; Díaz y Díaz, ‘Giuliano di Toledo’, p. 1611. 72 Hist. Wamb., in CCh 115, pp. 218–244; Díaz y Díaz, ‘Historia del Rey Wamba’, pp. 89–114; The Story of Wamba. On the work cf. de Jong, ‘Adding Insult’, pp. 373–402; Stancati, ‘Introduction’, pp. 113–119. 73 Madoz, ‘Fuentes teológico-literarias’, p. 411; Hillgarth, ‘Historiography’, p. 299; Stancati, ‘Introduction’, p. 118. 74 Cf., for example, Hist. Wamb. 9 (in CCh 115, pp. 224–226), when King Wamba speaks proudly against Basque and Gaul rebels (cf. Madoz, San Julián de Toledo, p. 42). 75 Cf., for example, Hist. Wamb. 1 (in CCh 115, p. 218), in which Julian shows young people the worth of glory, or the new triumphant king.

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it comes from other writings that Julian could access, such as Isidore of Seville, for example. The author also used first-hand materials, probably from the royal archives.76 Nevertheless, all these elements contribute to providing the picture of a highly knowledgeable young historian of the Visigothic Christian Empire, who was able to give historical authenticity and didactic value to the events he narrated. His entire narrative is characterised by a ‘patriotic’77 fervour coupled with didactical purposes designed to illustrate history’s role as ‘teacher of life’ and mentor.78 The work has therefore been defined as an example of classic historiography, but has also been considered a testimony to Spanish culture at the time of the author.79 The Historia de Wamba was probably never commissioned by the king, and yet it can be considered a kind of official history of a Visigothic domination period.80 From the narrative, one can gauge that the work was composed for political reasons. Some of its sections are fraught with propaganda aimed at underscoring the pre-eminence of the Church of Toledo in Spain.81 Julian saw a providential monarch in King Wamba, sent by God to safeguard the religious and political unity of the Iberian Peninsula.82 He praised the king not only as the Lord’s anointed, but also as an expression of national unity. More than the historiographic works of Julian’s predecessors, such as John and Isidore, the Historia de Wamba is an expression of Toledo’s royal court. Julian was particularly adept at giving his exegetical biblical skills and providentialistic conception of history to service the court, drawing from Old Testament lessons for his contemporary world.83 As a divinely called man, Wamba is identified by a miracle,84 and his story is embellished with references to the Psalms.85 76 Díaz y Díaz, ‘Scrittori della penisola iberica’, p. 113. 77 Cf. Rivera Recio, San Julián, p. 87; idem, Los Arzobispos de Toledo. 78 Stancati, ‘Introduction’, pp. 116, 118. 79 Madoz, San Julián de Toledo, p. 42; Stancati, ‘Introduction’, p. 116. 80 Hillgarth (‘Introduction’, in CCh 115, p. VIII) cannot exclude that the work: ‘may possibly have been commissioned by the king and certainly bears the stamp of official history’. 81 Díaz y Díaz, ‘Giuliano di Toledo’, p. 1612. 82 Julian’s attitude during the military campaign of King Wamba against Duke Paul and the other rebels of northern Spain is still debated. According to some historians, Julian did not support the king on this occasion, as some poorly understood and geographically imprecise reports seem to demonstrate. According to others, the bountiful information contained in the work can only be explained as the result of the direct participation of the author in the events (cf. Gonzálvez Ruiz, ‘San Julián de Toledo’, pp. 9–10; Stancati, ‘Introduction’, pp. 74–84. 504, n. 426). 83 Cf. Gonzálvez Ruiz, ‘San Julián de Toledo’, p. 11. 84 Hist. Wamb. 4, in CCh 115, p. 220. 85 Cf., for example, Hist. Wamb. 10. 25, in CCh 115, pp. 226–227. 239 (cf. Hillgarth, ‘Historiography’, p. 300).

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Just like Cassiodorus with the Ostrogoths, Julian labels all the populations antagonistic to the ruling ethnic group governing his land as ‘barbarians’. In this, he witnessed the efforts made by the Visigothic monarchy. As a result of the pastoral work of the Catholic Church, the cultural differences between barbarian customs narrowed. Displaying political and religious understandings, the keen-witted Visigothic monarchy abandoned the Arian heresy to embrace the Orthodox faith, decided to make Latin the official language of the imperial chancellery, and adopted the legislative and administrative model of the Roman Empire.86 The Iberian Peninsula remained anchored to its Hispano-Roman cultural and intellectual roots and never adopted a marked Visigothic character. Hispano-Romans and bishops are to be credited for producing doctrines and promoting important social-cultural programmes. In such a socio-cultural context, only a few can boast a truly theological understanding of history and Julian is one of them. His Historia de Wamba goes far beyond the simple narration of historical events. Julian the theologian seems to propose a kind of political-religious theory of the events he narrates. Even if Julian’s viewpoint in the Historia de Wamba appears too one-sided – displaying a marked Hispano-Visigothic patriotic stance – his work is of great importance nonetheless.

Conclusions The historiography of the centuries under consideration weaves between tradition and innovation. A moral sense of tradition can be especially observed in the emphasis placed on the accuracy of the historical research and in the persistent adoption of past historiographic models, often with the declared intention of connecting with illustrious forerunners. The innovation notably consisted of creating an ecclesiastical history, the history of God’s people, and His visible temporal incarnation. Such a history unfolded on two levels, extra-temporal and temporal, and, as such, posed theoretical and methodological problems. For authors such as Hydatius, universalism can be observed only in space and time and never in a truly global perspective, namely, an integral and universal interpretation of history. While the survival of the empire in the East enabled the persistence of a universal historiographic vision, attested by an annalistic structure 86 Stancati, ‘Introduction’, p. 5.

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and the appeals to a continuity with the Roman and biblical experiences for the evangelisation of the Slavic world, in the West, the Romanbarbarian kingdoms produced national-ethnographic histories. When in the Roman-barbarian West, historiography developed a national dimension and, more or less unbeknown to its authors, also developed on a broader international and, ultimately, ‘metahistorical’ stage. 87 It is in the seventh century in particular that historiography becomes increasingly provincialised, which focused on more circumscribed regional identities. If one considers the end of the Western Roman Empire and the reality of the Visigothic kingdom on the ground, the remoteness of the area bolstered the perception of being an autonomous region – separated from the rest of the Western Roman Empire – among Visigothic subjects and ended up feeding nationalistic pride. Most of the historiographic works of Visigothic Spain, such as the works of John of Biclaro, Isidore of Seville, and Julian of Toledo were inspired by the court of Toledo and should be considered a tool of royal propaganda. Reccared I’s decision to convert the Goths to the Catholic faith inevitably led the ‘men of the Church’ to seek an alliance with the monarchy. Church historians, therefore, played a crucial role in ensuring the political and religious unity of Spain. While they celebrated the victories over key external enemies, such as the Byzantines and the Franks, they often avoided discussing internal conflicts or disputes. The presentation of the Visigothic kings as God’s deputies – new figures comparable to Constantine – can be considered one of the most distinguished elements of the adoption of the Eusebian model in Spain.88 Just think of the identification of the Visigothic kings with Constantine in John of Biclaro or of Isidore’s extolling of Reccared I and Suinthila as saints;89 or of Julian’s descriptions of the host of angels protecting Wamba’s war.90 Spanish historiography, and specifically that of Isidore of Seville, is characterised by the feelings of allegiance of Christian writers towards their institutions. Their dialectic weaves between claims of unity and the cultural dignity and specificity of two peoples: the universalistic ambition of the old Eusebian model and the ethnic particularism of modern national histories. 87 88 89 90

Simonetti, ‘Tra innovazione e tradizione’, p. 65. Hillgarth, ‘Historiography’, p. 280. Hist. Goth. 55. 65, in MGH, Scipt. Ant. 11, pp. 290, 293. Hist. Wamb. 23, in CCh 115, p. 238.

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Works cited Arce, Javier, ‘El catastrofismo de Hydacio y los camellos de la Gallaecia’, in Los últimos romanos en Lusitania, ed. by Agustín Velázquez, ‎ Enrique Cerrillo, and ‎ Pedro Mateos (Merida: Museo Nacional de Arte Romano, 1995), pp. 219–229. Bernárdez Vilar, Xoán, Idacio Lémico. Chronica (379–469) (Santiago de Compostela: Xunta de Galicia, 2004). Blázquez, José María, ‘La historiografía sobre la edad antigua’, in Historia de la historiografía española, José Andrés-Gallego (coord.), José María Blázquez, Emilio Mitre Fernández, Fernando Sánchez Marcos, and José Manuel Cuenca Toribio (Madrid: Ediciones Encuentro, 1999), pp. 15–66. Bodelón García, Serafìn, ‘Idacio. Prodigios y providencialismo en su Crónica’, Memorias de historia antigua 17 (1996), 117–132. Burgess, Richard W., The Chronicle of Hydatius and the Consularia Constantinopolitana: Two Contemporary Accounts of the Final Years of the Roman Empire (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993). Burgess, Richard W., ‘Hydatius and the Final Frontiers in Late Antiquity’, in Shifting Frontiers in Late Antiquity, ed. by Ralph Whitney Mathisen, and Hagith S. Sivan. Paper from the First Interdisciplinary Conference on Late Antiquity (Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing, 1996), pp. 321–332. Burgess, Richard W., Studies in Eusebian and Post-Eusebian Chronography (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1999). Campos, Julio, Juan de Biclaro, obispo de Gerona. Su vida y su obra (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Cientificas, 1960). Candelas Colondrón, César, O mundo de Hidacio de Chaves. O último romano da Gallaecia (Santiago de Compostela: Universidad de Santiago de Compostela, 2006). Cardelle de Hartmann, Carmen, ‘Las lecturas de Hidacio de Chaves. Notas sobre la recepción literaria en la Gallecia del siglo V’, Minerva 6 (1992), 241–256. Cardelle de Hartmann, Carmen, Philologische Studien zur Chronik des Hydatius von Chaves (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1994). Carreras Ares, Juan José, ‘La historia universal en la España visigoda’, Revista de la Universidad de Madrid 6 (1957), 157–197. Cazier, Pierre, Isidore de Séville et la naissance de l’Espagne catholique (Paris: Beauchesne, 1994). Codoñer Merino, Carmen, El ‘De viris illustribus’ de Isidoro de Sevilla. Estudio y edición critica (Salamanca: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1964). Courtois, Christian, ‘Auteurs et scribes. Remarques sur la Chronique d’Hydace’, Byzantion 21 (1951), 23–54.

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Cracco Ruggini, Lellia, ‘The Ecclesiastical Histories and the Pagan Historiography: Providence and Miracles’, Athenaeum, n.s. 55 (1977), 107–126. Cracco Ruggini, Lellia, ‘Universalità e campanilismo, centro e periferia, città e deserto nelle Storie Ecclesiastiche’, in La storiografia ecclesiastica nella tarda antichità. Atti del convegno di Erice (3–8 dicembre 1978), (Messina: Centro di Studi Umanistici, 1980), pp. 159–194. de Jong, Mayke, ‘Adding Insult to Injury: Julian of Toledo and His Historia Wambae’, in The Visigoths from the Migration Period to the Seventh Century: An Ethnographic Perspective, ed. by Peter Heather (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 1999), pp. 373–402. Díaz y Díaz, Manuel C. (ed.), Isidoriana. Colección de estudios sobre Isidoro de Sevilla publicados con ocasión del XIV centenario de su nacimiento (León: Centro de Estudios ‘San Isidoro’, 1961). Díaz y Díaz, Manuel C., ‘La transmisión textual del Biclarense’, Analecta sacra Tarraconensia 35 (1962), 57–76. Díaz y Díaz, Manuel C., ‘Giuliano di Toledo’, in Dizionario Patristico di Antichità Cristiane, ed. by Angelo Di Berardino (Casale Monferrato: Marietti, 1983), II, pp. 1611–1612. Díaz y Díaz, Manuel C., ‘Scrittori della penisola iberica’, in Patrologia. IV. Dal Concilio di Calcedonia (451) a Beda. I Padri latini, ed. by Angelo Di Berardino (Genova: Marietti, 1996), p. 113. Díaz y Díaz, Pedro Rafael, ‘Historia del Rey Wamba: Traducción y notas’, Florentia Iliberritana 1 (1990), 89–114. Downey, Glanville, ‘The Perspective of the Early Church Historians’, Greek Roman and Byzantine Studies 6 (1965), 60–63. Eusebius/Rufinus, Historia ecclesiastica. Zweiter Band, Die Kirchengeschichte, ed. by E. Schwartz and Th. Mommsen, GCS, 2 vols. (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1903–1908). Fernández Conde, Francisco Javier, El providencialismo radical en el Cronicon de Hidacio, Anthologica Annua 6 (Roma: Iglesia Nacional Española, 2014), pp. 139–163. Fontaine, Jacques, Isidore de Séville et la culture classique dans l’Espagne wisigothique (Paris: Études Augustiniennes, 1983, II ed.), 3 vols. Fontaine, Jacques, ‘Isidoro di Siviglia’, in Dizionario Patristico e di Antichità Cristiane, ed. by Angelo Di Berardino (Casale Monferrato: Marietti, 1983), II, pp. 1835–1840. Fontaine, Jacques, Isidore de Séville. Genèse et originalité de la culture hispanique au temps des Wisigoths (Turnhout: Brepols, 2000). Fontaine, Jacques, ‘Un manifeste politique et culturel. Le ‘De laude Spaniae’ d’Isidore de Séville’, in Le discours d’éloge entre Antiquité et Moyen Age. Table ronde de l’Université de Nanterre, ed. by Lionel Mary and Michel Sot (Paris: Picard, 2001), pp. 61–68.

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García Moreno, Luis Agustín, ‘Élites e Iglesia hispanas en la transición del Imperio Romano al reino visigodo’, in La conversión de Roma. Cristianismo y paganismo, ed. By José María Candau, Fernando Gascó, and Antonio Ramírez de Verger (Madrid: Ediciones clásicas, 1990), pp. 223–258. García Moreno, Luis Agustín, ‘Expectativas milenaristas y escatológicas en la España tardoantigua (ss. V–VIII)’, in Spania. Estudis d’Antiguitat Tardana oferts en homenatge al professor Pere de Palol i Salellas (Barcelona: Abadía de Montserrat, 1996), pp. 103–110. García Moreno, Luis Agustín, ‘La iglesia y el cristianismo en la Galecia de época sueva’, Antigüedad y Cristianismo 23 (2006), 39–56. García Penas, Fernando, ‘A crónica do bispo Hidacio’, Compostellanum, 48 (2003), 317–358. Gelarda, Igor, ‘Guerre e diplomazia in Iberia nel Chronicon del vescovo Idazio’, ὅρμος. Ricerche di Storia Antica, n.s., 1 (2008/2009), 294–306. Gillet, Andrew, Envoys and Political Communication in the Late Antique West (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003). Gonzálvez Ruiz, Ramón, ‘San Julián de Toledo en el contexto de su tiempo’, Anales Toledanos 32 (1996), 7–22. Hillgarth, Jocelyn Nigel, ‘El Prognosticon futuri saeculi de S. Julián de Toledo’, Analecta Sacra Tarraconensia 30 (1957), 5–62. Hillgarth, Jocelyn Nigel, ‘Historiography in Visigothic Spain’, in La storiografia altomedievale. Atti della XVII Settimana di Studio (Spoleto, 10–16 aprile 1969), (Spoleto: Centro Italiano di Studi sull’Alto Medioevo, 1970), pp. 261–311. Hillgarth, Jocelyn Nigel, ‘Las fuentes de san Julián de Toledo’, Anales Toledanos, 3 (1971), pp. 97–118. Hillgarth, Jocelyn Nigel, ‘Introduction to the Critical Edition of the Works of Julian of Toledo’, in CCh 115 (Turnhout: Brepols 1976), VIII–LXXIV. Inglebert, Hervé, ‘Isidore de Séville en son monde. Lieux, peoples, époques’, Antiquité Tardive 23 (2015), 109–122. Isidore of Seville, Etymologiarum sive originum libri XX, ed. By W.M. Linsay (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1911). Kaegi, Walter Emil, Byzantium and the Decline of Rome (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1968). La storia ecclesiastica di Eusebio. Alle origini della storiografia cristiana. Giornata di studio, ed. by Lorenzo Perrone and Andrea Villani, Adamantius 16 (2010), 6–124. Lizzi Testa, Rita, ‘I vescovi, i barbari e l’impero di Roma’, in Potere e politica nell’età della famiglia teodosiana (395–455). I linguaggi dell’impero, le identità dei barbari, ed. by Isabella Baldini, and Salvatore Cosentino (Bari: Edipuglia, 2013), pp. 27–50.

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López Silva, José Antonio, A Crónica de Idacio de Limia, obispo de Chaves (Deputación Provincial de Ourense: Civitas Limicorum, 2004). Luiselli, Bruno, ‘Indirizzo universale e indirizzi nazionali nella storiograf ia latino-cristiana dei secoli V–VIII’, in La storiografia ecclesiastica nella tarda antichità. Atti del convegno di Erice (3–8 dicembre 1978), (Messina: Centro di Studi Umanistici, 1980), pp. 505–533. Luiselli, Bruno, Storia culturale dei rapporti tra mondo romano e mondo germanico (Roma: Herder, 1992). Luiselli, Bruno, La formazione della cultura europea occidentale (Roma: Herder, 2003). Madoz, José, ‘El concilio de Calcedonia en S. Isidoro de Sevilla’, Revista española de teología 12 (1952), 189–204. Madoz, José, ‘Fuentes teológico-literarias de San Julián de Toledo’, Gregorianum 33 (1952), 399–417. Madoz, José, San Julián de Toledo (Madrid: Facultades de Teologia de la Compania de Jesus en Espana, 1952). Mansi, Giovanni Domenico, Sacrorum Conciliorum nova et amplissima collectio 31 vols., Firenze-Venezia 1757–1798 (rist. an. Graz 1960). Mazza, Mario, ‘Sulla teoria della storiografia cristiana. Osservazioni sui proemi degli storici ecclesiastici’, in La storiografia ecclesiastica nella tarda antichità. Atti del convegno di Erice (3–8 dicembre 1978), (Messina: Centro di Studi Umanistici, 1980), pp. 335–389. Molè, Concetta, Uno storico del V secolo. Il vescovo Idazio (Catania: Facoltà di Lettere e Filosofia, 1978). Momigliano, Arnaldo, ‘Storiografia pagana e cristiana nel secolo IV d.C.’, in Il conflitto tra paganesimo e cristianesimo nel secolo IV (Torino: Einaudi, 1968), pp. 89–110. Mühlberger, Steven, The Fifth-Century Chroniclers: Prosper, Hydatius and the Gallic Chronicler of 452 (Leeds: Cairn, 1990). Nautin, Pierre, ‘L’introduction d’Hydace à sa continuation de la Chronique d’Eusebe et Jérôme’, Revue d’Histoire des Textes 14–15 (1984–1985), 143–153. Prinzivalli, Emanuela, ‘Genere storico. La storiografia di Eusebio di Cesarea’, in Costantino I. Enciclopedia costantiniana sulla figura e l’immagine dell’imperatore del cosiddetto Editto di Milano 313–2013, ed. by Alberto Melloni (Roma: Istituto dell’Enciclopedia Italiana, 2013), II, pp. 59–76. Rivera Recio, Juan Francisco, San Julián, arzobispo de Toledo (s. VII). Época y personalidad (Barcelona: Amaltea, 1944). Rivera Recio, Juan Francisco, Los Arzobispos de Toledo desde sus orígenes hasta fines del siglo XI (Toledo: Diputación provincial, 1973). Rodríguez Alonso, Cristóbal, Las Historias de los Godos, Vándalos y Suevos de san Isidoro de Sevilla. Estudio, edición crítica y traducción (Léon: Centro de Estudios e Investigación ‘San Isidoro’, 1975).

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Rus Rufino, Salvador, ‘Unidad y paz en el reino visigodo. Dos aspectos del pensamiento político de Isidoro de Sevilla’, Antiquité Tardive 23 (2015), 81–94. Simonetti, Manlio, ‘Giovanni di Biclaro’, in Dizionario Patristico di Antichità Cristiane, ed. by Angelo Di Berardino (Casale Monferrato: Marietti, 1983), II, pp. 1545–1546. Simonetti, Manlio, ‘Tra innovazione e tradizione. La storiografia cristiana’, Vetera Christianorum 34 (1997), 51–65. Siniscalco, Paolo, ‘La storiografia nel Tardo Antico’, in La cultura in Italia fra Tardo Antico e Alto Medioevo. Atti del Convegno CNR (Roma, 12–16 novembre 1979), (Roma: Herder, 1981), 99–122. Siniscalco, Paolo, ‘Storiograf ia cristiana’, in Dizionario Patristico di Antichità Cristiane, ed. By Angelo Di Berardino (Casale Monferrato: Marietti, 1983), II, pp. 3319–3326. Siniscalco, Paolo, Il senso della storia. Studi sulla storiografia cristiana antica (Soveria Mannelli: Rubbettino, 2003). Siniscalco, Paolo, ‘La Storia Ecclesiastica di Eusebio. Alle origini della storiografia cristiana’, Adamantius 16 (2010), 6–11. Sirago, Vito Antonio, Galla Placidia. La nobilissima (Milano: Jaca Book, 1966). Stancati, Tommaso, ‘Introduction’, in Julian of Toledo: Prognosticum futuri saeculi. Foreknowledge of the world to come. Translated, edited, and introduced by Tommaso Stancati (New York: Newman Press, 2010), pp. 1–269. The Story of Wamba: Julian of Toledo’s Historia Wambae Regis, translated with an introduction and notes by Joaquín Martínez Pizarro (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of American Press, 2005). Tranoy, Alain, Hydace. Chronique. Introduction, texte critique, traduction par A. Tranoy (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1974), 2 vols. Veláquez, Isabel, ‘Revisiones de autor y de copistas en las obras de Isidoro de Sevilla. A propósito de la Historia Gothorum’, Antiquité tardive 23 (2015), 67–79. Vilella Masana, Josep, ‘Idacio, un cronista de su tempo’, Compostellanum, 44 (1999), 39–54. Vilella Masana, Josep, and Pere Maymo i Capdevila, ‘Religion and Policy in the Coexistence of Romans and Barbarians in Hispania (409–589)’, Romanobarbarica 17 (2000–2002), 193–236. Wieser, Veronika, ‘The Chronicle of Hydatius: A Historical Guidebook to the Last Days of the Western Roman Empire’, in Apocalypse and Reform from Late Antiquity to the Middle Ages, ed. by Matthew Gabriele, and James T. Palmer (New York: Routledge, 2018), pp. 11–30. Zecchini, Giuseppe, Aezio. L’ultima difesa dell’Occidente romano (Roma: L’Erma di Bretschneider, 1983). Zecchini, Giuseppe, Ricerche di storiografia latina tardo antica (Roma: L’Erma di Bretschneider, 1993).

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About the author Immacolata Aulisa teaches at the University of Bari Aldo Moro. She is interested in the controversy between Jews and Christians, the Christianization of southern Italy, the spread of the cult of St. Michael, and the foundation of Christian shrines. She is director of the Centre for Micaelian and Garganic Studies.

4. Orosius: An Iberian Patriot’s History of Rome Andrew Fear

Abstract Even to this day, the history of ancient Rome, despite the size of her empire, is all too often exclusively considered through the eyes and reactions of metropolitan Romans. This chapter primarily uses the example of the Spanish writer Paulus Orosius to explore the response of provincials to their membership of the Roman Empire. It examines how Orosius, within his overall general history of antiquity, carefully uses incidents from the Iberian peninsula, such as the siege of Numantia and the Cantabrian Wars, at crucial moments in its development to underline the importance as he sees it of local contributions to the empire. The chapter develops these points to examine the growth of a Burkean Romanitas where local and broader forms of identity formed complimentary rather than competing roles. Keywords: Orosius, Burkean Romanitas, provincials, identity

In 2015, a Roman tombstone was unearthed in Cirencester in South West England. It bore a dedication to a 27-year-old woman named Bodicaca: a variant of the name Boudica. Though no firm dating is possible, the stone is likely to have been carved in the second century AD, some two generations after the uprising against Rome in South East England led by the Queen of the Iceni. Memories of the Queen lived on in Britain throughout the Roman period and beyond. The fifth-century author Gildas speaks of a ‘treacherous lioness’, leana dolosa, who butchered the rulers in Britain who had been appointed by Rome, and it is difficult not to see a gesture to the Icenian queen here.1 This reference is deeply hostile and there can be no doubt that 1 Gildas, De Excidio Britonum 6.

Ubric Rabaneda, P. (ed.), Writing History in Late Antique Iberia: Historiography in Theory and Practice from the Fourth to the Seventh Century. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2022 doi 10.5117/9789463729413_ch04

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it reflects Gildas’s own feelings. But these may not have been typical of his times. Gildas wrote to induce repentance in his audience and to do this he belittles the Britons at every opportunity, presenting them as a deeply flawed and ungrateful race who deserved to suffer. It is likely, therefore, that here he is deploying the rhetorical trope of refutatio: denigrating in advance an episode of history well known to his contemporary readers, which they would have used to counter his arguments. In short, the passage suggests that there was both a positive and a negative memory of Boudica in late-Roman and immediate post-Roman Britain. Certainly, other such memories of figures from the Roman past in Britain can be found. In what was, at the time, the kingdom of Gwynedd in North Wales, the name of the third-century breakaway emperor Carausius was perpetuated on a tombstone dating to the sixth/seventh century AD,2 and many early Welsh medieval kings attempted to create a bloodline that connected them to short-lived usurper Magnus Maximus, who is also the hero of the early medieval Welsh poem The Dream of Macsen Wledig.3 If the inhabitants of Roman Britain had grown fond of these individuals, it was in the face of the way they had been depicted in ‘official’ Roman history. Tacitus presents Boudica as a vengeful harridan whose uprising is ended by one of his heroes, Suetonius Paulinus. 4 In the third century, Dio embroiders Tacitus’s account to produce a Roman nightmare, dwelling on the atrocities carried out in the queen’s name in gruesome detail.5 Carausius is described in a panegyric addressed to the emperor Maximian as ‘a monster far more hideous’ than ‘a grotesque shepherd with three Heads’6 while Magnus is ‘a despoiler of the public’, publicus spoliator, with manus rapaces, ‘rapacious hands’.7 Such contrasts between the centre and the periphery of empire remind us that, all too often, we are apt to look at the Roman past through the eyes of metropolitan Rome. But the Roman world was a much larger place than the City of Rome and its history could present itself in rather different ways to its varied inhabitants. However, while failure to recognise such distinctions is a flaw, so is their naïve interpretation. Although Boudica was a native opponent of Rome, Carausius and Maximus were in no sense British. It is odd that the early Welsh kings, in what had been the least Romanised part of the principality, chose to legitimate their rule not through a native 2 Nash-Williams, The Early Christian Monuments, no.101. 3 Part of the Mabinogion cycle. 4 Tacitus, Annals 14.31–38. 5 Dio 62.2, 62.7. 6 Pan Lat. Vet. 10 (2), non pastorem trino capite deformem sed prodigium multo taetrius. 7 Pac. Pan. 43.2–4.

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tribal lineage, but rather an appeal to a Roman predecessor. Moreover, the notion of native resistance to Rome does not sit well with the adoption of Magnus Maximus, not a Briton but an Iberian Roman, as a Welsh national hero. Thus, simple hostility to Rome cannot be the main reason why these figures were embraced in Britain. A more credible alternative to the simple notion of resistance to Roman rule is to consider the phenomenon known in Latin American Studies as ‘creole nationalism’ in a Late Antique context. Creole nationalism involves the redeployment of features from a local culture but within an intellectual framework created by the colonial power to create a new hybrid, independent identity. This phenomenon was the inspiration of independence movements in the early nineteenth century across much of Latin America and quite possibly informed the Britain of the early fifth century AD. Those who rejected central Roman rule there were the Romanised curial class and, as such, by no means hostile to the cultural world of the Roman Empire, which informed both their lifestyle and manner of thinking, but rather simply to rule from the centre. The state they created thus drew upon Roman models and Roman local heroes to form a ‘creole’ identity of their own, much as early opponents of Spanish rule in Latin America drew upon European liberalism and Catholicism, not indigenous culture, for their vision which they then populated with local examples.8 Sadly, there has been a disproportionate focus on those ‘creole thinkers’ who chose to reject rule from the centre. We must remember that a substantial number of inhabitants of the colonial Spanish empire were proud of their pre-colonial past, but also deeply loyal to the colonial power.9 A good example is Inca Garcilaso de la Vega. Born to a conquistador father by an Inca princess and growing up with Quechua as his first language, Garcilaso was a loyal servant of Spain, serving in the campaigns against the moriscos of the Alpujarras in Andalusia and receiving the rank of capitan for his endeavours. A man of letters as well as action, in his writings he welcomes the subjugation of Peru by Spain and its consequent conversion to Christianity. At the same time, however, he stresses the courage and rationality of the Incas and their achievements, which he places on a par with those of ancient Rome. It is only the Christian beliefs of the conquistadores 8 The best example is perhaps the cult of the Virgin of Guadalupe in Mexico and its association with Psalm 147.20, ‘non fecit taliter omni nationi’, but examples of the portrayal of pre-Columbian heroes and scenes in the style of European neo-classical and romantic art can be found across Mexico. 9 This is a sentiment summed up in the modern slogan ‘En el vireinato eramos España, no eramos de España’.

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that make them superior to their foes. Aspects of Inca life that would repel his Spanish audience, such as those of human sacrifice, are carefully omitted from his account.10 Here, we see a state of mind that is happy to celebrate resistance to conquest in the past as a proof of virility, but whose wish now is to show readers that there is no longer hostility to the conquering power and thus that the conquered remain enemies, but rather to mark them as a particularly strong, virtuous addition to the empire into which they have been incorporated, thus making clear that the empire is all the better because of their presence.11 This phenomenon of a local pride, but one firmly anchored in a wider identity has been baptised ‘fidelismo’ in Spanish. It is apparent in Late Antique Gaul in Ausonius’s Commemoratio Professorum, in which the poet is happy to trace the ancestry of some of his subjects back to the Druids. Moreover, it is clear that this was no innovation on his part – there is a strong implication that family traditions had already begun to celebrate this Druidic past.12 The original druids were figures of horror and there would have been a time when no Gallic honestior worthy of the name would have wished to have any connection made to them. However, as the ages passed, danger and disgrace had transformed themselves into local colour and the Druids came to add a little local distinction to their descendants and happily provide the proof that Gaul had always produced intellectuals whose accomplishments exceeded those of other areas of the empire. From such fidelismo, a related set of emotions can also arise. This takes the form of disillusionment with the metropolitan centre, not on the grounds that it is an oppressive conqueror, but rather that it has become decadent and betrayed its own principles. This form of discontent provoked the rise of what is often called ‘military Romanitas’ in late antiquity; a phenomenon that can be seen in the work of Ammianus Marcellinus whose loyalty to Rome and, as he sees them, its values, is unquestionable. Ammianus openly styles himself a Graecus and is scathing about the way metropolitan Romans have betrayed the empire and that for which their ancestors stood.13 His complaints implicitly suggest that, by his day, it is the army, composed almost entirely of those born away from the city, which is the true bearer of Roman values.14 10 See Porras Berrenechea, El Inca, p. 15. 11 See in particular his Comentarios Reales. 12 See Comm., 10.20–30. 13 Amm. Marc., 31.16.9; 28.4. 14 See Williams, ‘Defining a Roman Identity’.

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The best fidelista tract from antiquity that shows both these tendencies is Orosius’s Seven Books of History Against the Pagans. This was written soon after Britain broke away from the Roman Empire, but if we can detect Creole nationalism in Britain, Orosius is an earnest fidelista. At the beginning of book two of his work, using The Book of Daniel as his template, he outlines a theory of history based on the rise and fall of four empires.15 The last empire is that of Rome, which is contrasted sharply, and to its credit, with the first empire, that of Babylon. Indeed, Orosius comes dangerously close, far too close for the tastes of the patron of his work, St Augustine, to identifying Rome with the kingdom of the Second Coming.16 In the History, Rome very much plays the role of the Biblical Jews (who have but a nugatory part in the work) as seen from a Christian perspective. The Jews are the bearers of God’s message in the Old Testament and are subjected to various trials and approbations to ensure their worthiness. Their national, though at the time very necessary, project is then superseded by the much wider message and mission found in the New Testament. In the same way, in the History, the Romans of the Republican period are tried and, while often found wanting, they are nevertheless led to establish a worldwide empire, in fulf ilment of God’s plans. After this necessary condition is fulf illed, the Roman mission too ceases to be a merely parochial phenomenon and becomes an all-encompassing evangelical project of the same kind that Inca Garcilaso, perhaps influenced by Orosius, saw as God’s purpose for the Spanish Empire of his own day. At the beginning of his fifth book, Orosius draws a stark contrast between the moral value of the two periods: For two hundred years [Hispania] watered her fields with her blood, being neither able to drive out or withstand her persistent foe who was forever at her gates. Their cities and fields in ruins, broken by the slaughter of war, starved by hunger in sieges, after killing their wives and children to put an end to their suffering they suffered themselves to attack one another and cut their throats, What was she then, to think about her condition?17 15 See Daniel 2 and 7. 16 Orosius, 2.1–3. 17 Orosius, 5.1.6: cum per annos ducentos ubique agros suos sanguine suo rigabat inportunumque hostem ultro ostiatim inquietantem nec repellere poterat nec sustinere, cum se suis diuersis urbibus ac locis, fracti caede bellorum, obsidionum fame exinaniti, interfectis coniugibus ac liberis suis ob remedia miseriarum concursu misero ac mutua caede iugulabant. Unless otherwise indicated, translations are my own.

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The question is, of course, rhetorical. The pagan Republican empire is one of selfish greed and infliction of suffering. There then follows a description of Orosius’s contemporary world: At the present, however, I feel no apprehension over the outbreak of any disturbance, since I can take refuge anywhere. Whithersoever I flee, there I find my homeland, my law, and my religion […]. The broad East, the vast North, the expanses of the South, and the largest, safest cities on the great islands, all have the same laws and nationality as I, for I arrive there as a Roman and Christian among Christians and Romans.18

The Incarnation has transformed the hell of the old empire into something evolving into being close to heaven on earth. Rome is truly ecumenical. We can see from the above rhetoric that Orosius, unlike earlier enthusiasts for the Empire, such as Aelius Aristides, or later ones, such as Gildas, regarded himself not as a subject of Rome, but as a fully fledged Romanus.19 Such a history could have been written anywhere by any Roman loyalist. However, Orosius’s history also contains a strong strand of local patriotism. Our author is proud of his homeland and, beneath his main message, sets out to persuade his readers that Iberia has played a – perhaps the – key role in bringing God’s plans to fruition and establishing, as he sees it, the contemporary happy state of affairs. In short, for Orosius, the peninsula was una unidad de destino en lo universal. This role is to be found in both phases of Rome’s development. During the pre-incarnation days of the Republic, Hispania both demonstrated the intrinsic, futile wickedness of the Roman Empire had it not been part of a deeper plan, and played a leading role in testing Rome and teaching her humility: true to his religious vocation, Orosius is eager to show that the pagan Rome for which his contemporary opponents harboured nostalgia was no better – indeed, it was often worse – than other nations. However, after the incarnation and establishment of the Principate (events carefully and deliberately synchronised by Orosius20), she is presented as bringing the establishment of a Christian empire to its successful culmination. This patriotic message is subtle. Orosius does not resort to obscuring parts of the Roman past to make his point, but carefully presents episodes of Rome’s past, which would have been familiar to readers 18 Orosius, 5.2.1–3. The key phrase is ad Christianos et Romanos Romanus et Christianus accedo. 19 Throughout his laudatory address to Rome, Aelius speaks of Rome as ‘you’ not ‘we’; for Gildas see De Excidio Britonum 15–19. 20 Orosius, 6.22.

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outside the Iberian peninsula, to imply that his native land was by far the best part of the empire. Thus, Orosius resists the temptation to embellish his geographical survey of the known world at the beginning of his work with a laus Hispaniae, though he does proudly note that the lighthouse at Coruna is a monument with few rivals.21 Rather, it is in Book Five that the special treatment of his homeland begins. The fall of Carthage in the third Punic War, the sack of Corinth, and siege of Numantia in the middle of the second century BC are often found as a triptych in the ancient histories of Republican Rome. Their treatment, a practice which perhaps began with Livy, is often one which suggests that they mark a decline in Rome’s moral fortunes. In particular, the fall of Numantia was seen to shame Rome. Orosius embraces this traditional approach with vigour. After having stressed the suffering caused by Rome’s Republican Empire, he also wishes to present Hispania not merely as a victim, but also as playing a key role in chastening pagan Rome. To do this, he uses Rome’s troubled campaigns in Celtiberia in central Spain. The History’s narrative follows closely that found in the earlier account of Florus. However, the two historians treat their source material in quite distinct fashions. Orosius carefully and deliberately edits what he has read to create for his readers a very different ethos to that found in Florus. Florus’s version of affairs is dryly impartial. He begins by telling us that all Celtiberia would have resisted Rome had Celtiberians’ leader, Olyndicus, not been killed through his own rash folly.22 Orosius suppresses this unflattering datum, and begins his account by drawing on the material found in Florus’s following paragraph, which deals with the successful campaigns of the Lusitanian guerrilla Viriathus against Roman arms. This allows him to present the Celtiberians in a better and much more successful light. His treatment of Viriathus himself is also of note. Orosius modifies Florus’s description of him as a huntsman who became first a brigand and then a general, calling him a homo pastoralis et latro, a shepherd and brigand.23 This slight change is not without thought, as it brings Viriathus very close to the traditional Roman picture of Romulus, thus making the Lusitanian a non-Roman Roman.24 It also reverses Rome’s own self-image as a nation of tough, no-nonsense countrymen, as here it is Rome’s rural-dwelling opponents who put her armies 21 Orosius, 1.2.71: Inter pauca memoranda operis. The phrase suggests that he was a native of Galicia. 22 Florus, 1.33.14. 23 Orosius, 5.4.1. 24 See Livy, 1.4.–5.

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to shame. This is particularly true in a vignette, found only in Orosius, where a solitary Lusitanian cows the Romans who had surrounded him to such a degree that he was simply able to walk away from them, as Orosius puts it, ‘at his ease in a contemptuous fashion’.25 Such a story in reverse would have been grist to a Roman historian’s mill,26 but here it is Rome’s opponents who act in a typically Roman way, while the Romans themselves behave in the way a Roman reader would expect of their adversaries. Orosius also carefully changes Viriathus’s motives for fighting. In Florus, the Lusitanians’ leader is depicted as a predator, who, after successfully defending his homeland, devastated the lands lying between the Ebro and the Tagus. Florus makes clear that this is no war of ‘liberation’ and speaks of Viriathus laying waste to the land with fire and sword, igni ferroque.27 While Orosius is happy to have Viriathus range over this enormous area, emphasising as it does his superiority over his Roman opponents, he drops all mention of Viriathus’s depredations, simply stating that he defeated the large Roman armies sent against him. His Viriathus fights a war of resistance not rapine. The Lusitanian leader’s end is also cast in quite distinct lights by the two historians. According to Florus, Fabius Maximus Servilianus was responsible for the Viriathus’s defeat, but his victory was spoilt by his successor, Popilius Caepio, who arranged for the Lusitanian leader’s assassination.28 In Orosius’s account, Fabius’s triumph is described in uncomplimentary detail: it was to receive the surrender of Buccia (along, Orosius admits, with that of ‘many castella’, though not oppida) and then, treacherously, to strike off the hands of 500 men after they had surrendered. Orosius aims to shock his readers here, describing this act of bad faith as one that would have appalled even the sensibilities of the furthest-flung Scythians (a byword for the worst sort of barbarian in late antiquity), let alone a Roman sense of honour, fides, and moderation.29 As with the image of the hardy farmer, Orosius again challenges a treasured aspect of the Romans’ self-perception: that of keeping fides. It is the Lusitanians who show fides, only to find themselves betrayed by their faithless Roman opponents. 25 Orosius, 5.4.6: contemptim atque otiosus abscederet. 26 Cf. Livy’s account of the meeting between Antiochus IV Epiphanes and Popilius Laena: Livy, 44.12. 27 Florus, 1.33.15: Non contentus libertatem suorum defendere […] omnia citra ultraque Hiberum et Tagum igni ferroque populatus. 28 Florus, 1.33.17, and Livy, Per 54, note that Fabius defeated Viriathus, but then made a treaty on equal terms with him. 29 Orosius, 5.4.12: fecit facinus etiam ultimis barbaris Scythiae, non dicam Romanae fidei et moderationi, exsecrabile.

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Orosius’s version of events deliberately challenges the previous normative version found in Valerius Maximus, where we are told, in a manner with which the reader is expected to agree, that Fabius was forced to abandon clementia and adopt severitas because he was facing a ferocissima tribe.30 In contrast to Florus, Viriathus’s death is directly attributed to his own people and it is made clear that the only noble thing Rome did was to refuse a reward to his assassins. In this way, even the somewhat tarnished victory found in Florus is denied her.31 This engineering of a moral victory for Rome’s Spanish opponents is also found in Orosius’s account of the campaigns at Numantia. As noted above, these campaigns had come to be an indicator of Rome’s decline after the Punic Wars.32 Orosius is happy to embrace this approach. He stresses the traditional link made in ancient historiography between the shame brought to Rome by the initial treaty made at Numantia by Mancinus and that made by the consuls of 321 BC, when Rome’s army surrendered to the Samnites at the Caudine Forks and was forced under the yoke.33 By Orosius’s day it had become customary to add Aulus Postumus’s surrender to, and similar humiliation by, Jugurtha in 110 BC in Numidia to the list of shameful surrenders.34 This addition is suppressed by Orosius, who wishes to highlight that it was in Spain that Republican Rome suffered her most humiliating defeat. The instant repudiation of the treaty struck by Mancinus with the Numantines also handed Orosius a further opportunity to present his countrymen as morally, as well as martially, superior to their Roman opponents. His narrative breaks out to apostrophise Rome herself, rebuking her for her faithlessness and urging her to learn of faith, justice, courage, and mercy from the Numantines.35 Here, Orosius’s list and number of virtues are a deliberate echo of those found in Augustus’s clipeus virtutum, a foundational document of the Roman state, which was still on display in the senate house in Rome in Orosius’s own day.36 Once again, the reader is invited to consider where true Romanitas lies. 30 Valerius Maximus, 2.7.11: In eadem provincia Q. Fabius Maximus ferocissimae gentis animos contundere et debilitare cupiens mansuetissimum ingenium suum ad tempus deposita clementia severiore uti severitate coegit. 31 Orosius, 5.4.14. 32 Florus, 1.34.3: Non temere, si fateri licet, ullius causa belli iniustior; cf. Appian, Iberice 97. 33 See, for example, Tacitus, 15.13. 34 See Eutropius, 10.17.2, and Ammianus Marcellinus, 25.9.11. 35 Orosius, 5.5.1–4. 36 Orosius’s virtues are justice, faithfulness, bravery, and mercy (iustitia, fides, fortitudo, misericordia), Augustus’s shield lists courage, justice clemency, and piety (virtus, iustitia, clementia, pietas).

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In his account of the war, Florus makes an aside that no Roman could bear to look a Numantinus in the eye or hear his voice. This is expanded by Orosius into the much more general statement that ‘the Roman soldier was so gripped by unreasoning fear that […] soon he fled simply on catching sight of an Hispanus’.37 Thus, the courage of one town becomes the courage of an entire people. Rome’s honour is saved by her appointment of Scipio Africanus to conduct the siege at Numantia, after which Florus tells us that a sight that no-one had ever hoped to see – the Numantines put to flight – came to pass.38 Again, Orosius gives this key moment a very different atmosphere, stressing that Rome’s success was only because Scipio was present and that, even so, initially it was the Romans who were put to flight and were then only shamed back to the battle line by the threats and rebukes of their commander: ‘It is difficult to believe the account – the Romans put the Numantines to flight and saw this while they themselves fled’. The delight Scipio felt at his victory is quickly tempered by the realisation that he dare not face the Numantines in battle again and, as a result, is forced to resort to the ignoble tactic of starving them into submission.39 Both Orosius and Florus tell us that the besieged Numantines were refused a second battle and, after being reduced to starvation, attempted one final sally upon whose failure the survivors committed suicide. Florus has the majority of the Numantines killed in their attempted break-out and we are told that the remainder would have fled had their wives not prevented them by cutting through the girths of their horses. 40 Orosius’s version of events is very different. Here, the last battle is long and bitter and it is the Romans who were placed in danger and would have fled had it not been, once again, for Scipio. 41 After failing to break through their besiegers’ lines, the Numantines, we are told, withdrew in good order. 42 There is no 37 Orosius, 5.5.15: quanta fuerit timoris amentia miles Romanus hebetatus, ut iam ne ad experimentum quidem belli cohibere pedem atque offirmare animum posset, sed mox conspecto Hispano specialiter hoste diffugiens uinci se paene prius crederet quam uideri. 38 Florus, 1.3411: quodque nemo visurum se umquam speraverat factum, ut fugientes Numantinos quisquam videret. 39 Orosius, 5.7.6–7: difficilis tunc in relatu fides: Numantinos et fugauere et fugientes uidere Romani […]. Scipio[…] ultra bello aduersum eos audendum non esse professus est. A parallel can be seen with Inca Garcilaso, who points out that the Spanish conquest of Peru only succeeded because their opponents were politically divided. For both him and Orosius, conquest does not show an intrinsic martial weakness in the conquered. 40 Florus, 1.34.14. 41 Orosius, 5.7.15: atrox diu certamen et usque ad periculum Romanorum fuit, iterumque Romani pugnare se aduersum Numantinos fugiendo probauissent, nisi sub Scipione pugnassent. 42 Orosius, 5.7.15: conpositis tamen ordinibus nec sicut fugientes in urbem reuertuntur.

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question the survivors abandoning their families; rather, in a ‘last frenzy of desperation’, they turn Numantia into one vast, heroic funeral pyre. Rome gains a hollow victory, the Numantines a moral one. ‘Even though Numantia had fallen they considered that Numantines had escaped from them rather than they had defeated them’ is Orosius’s comment. 43 Numantia came to be seen as ancient Spain’s finest hour and mediated, in particular, through Ambrosio de Morales’s Crónica general de España, it was to become an important part of the creation of a notion of Hispanitas in the Golden Age. Orosius’s portrayal of the siege at Numantia is not an insignificant part of that genesis. 44 Morales, a straightforward Spanish patriot, also finds much to praise in the Roman politician Sertorius and the uprising he led in Hispania against the Roman state, stressing the love shown towards him by his Spanish subjects. Orosius’s treatment of the episode provides clear proof that he is not interested in the rhetoric of resistance. He has no time for Sertorius as he has no sympathies with the populares of the late Republic, or those whom he perceives as rebels in general. This is how he styles Sertorius whom he further marks out as ‘steeped in treachery and arrogance’, dolo atque audacia potens and later as the ‘cruellest of all’, atrocissimum omnium, of Rome’s rebels. 45 Inevitably, he is forced to concede that Sertorius recruited an army in Spain, but he is careful not to stress any sympathy that may have existed between it and its commander. Instead, it is Sertorius’s atrocities against the local population, such the brutal destruction of Lauro and the enslavement of those who survived its sack, which are emphasised. 46 Orosius sees a parallel in Sertorius’s death by assassination with Viriathus’s demise, especially as, this time, the assassins, mindful of Rome’s reception of Viriathus’s killers, do not even seek a reward. Thus, it is not Rome who defeats Sertorius, and his death is one without glory.47 However, the parallel is turned on its head. Viriathus’s killers are castigated by Orosius – as we 43 Orosius, 5.7.17: neque enim euersa Numantia uicisse se magis Numantinos quam euasisse duxerunt. This is added to Florus’s, and thus Livy’s, comment that Rome found nothing of worth, not even, after the mass suicide, a single slave in Numancia. 44 See Schmidt, ‘The Development of “Hispanitas”’. 45 Orosius, 5.23.2; 5.24.16. We can see here a parallel with Inca Garcilaso’s legitimist attitude towards Atahualpa, who was also a usurper and is presented by the Inca as a cruel tyrant, Comentarios Reales 9.36–39. 46 Orosius, 5.23.7: Sertorius superato fugatoque Pompeio Lauronem captam cruentissime depopulatus est; reliquum agmen Lauronensium, quod caedibus superfuerat, miserabili in Lusitaniam captiuitate traduxit. 47 Orosius, 5.23.13: postremo ipse Sertorius decimo demum anno belli inchoati isdem quibus et Viriatus suorum dolis interfectus finem bello fecit Romanisque uictoriam sine gloria dedi.

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have seen, for him, Rome’s only honourable action in the whole affair was to refuse them a reward. This time, the assassins, who are implied to be Hispani, act for the good and do so selflessly as they seek no reward. Sertorius’s death is followed by ringing praise of Hispania, which, in Orosius’s words, ‘ever firm in its loyalty and might has given the best rulers to the state, but never, down to the present day, has sent it a usurper nourished there or let one who descended upon her from abroad live and flourish’.48 This may have had an important resonance with his contemporary readers given Constantine III’s attempted coup against the emperor Honorius and the subsequent breakaway coup in Spain, led by his field marshal Gerontius, who is singled out as a particularly loathsome individual.49 The attack on Gerontius shows that Orosius is anxious to show Spain as a victim of this coup, rather than a participant in it. Sadly, Orosius later gives his encomium the lie by noting that Galba, an emperor of whom he does not approve, successfully usurped the purple while governor of Spain.50 His comments, however, show how he saw Hispania’s role evolve over time. In the Republican period, Spain points to the selfish and inglorious nature of the pagan Roman empire and also demonstrates that the virtues that contemporary pagan Romans prided themselves upon were better exemplified by others. By contrast, in the Imperial period, when the Empire has a divine mission, Spain proves herself the best of the empire, a truly Roman nation. This transition to empire, which Orosius regards as positive and divinely ordained, poses an awkward problem, as it is precisely the time of Rome’s last great campaign in Spain – the Cantabrian War – which was initiated by one of Orosius’s heroes, the unifier of the world, Emperor Augustus. The war was of too great a magnitude simply to be ignored. Through careful editing of his source, Livy, Orosius tries to both celebrate Augustus’s victory, but also depict the bravery of his opponents. In our other extant account of the wars, that of Florus, who also draws on Livy, the campaigns are presented as a straightforward victory. A three-fold column envelops Cantabria in the way that a hunter’s net encloses its victims; indeed, Florus strengthens this metaphor by going out of his way to describe Augustus’s opponents as ‘bestial’.51 Orosius removes this insulting analogy from his account and 48 Orosius, 5.23.16: fortis fide ac uiribus semper Hispania cum optimos inuictissimos reges reipublicae dederit, nullum umquam tyrannorum ab initio usque dederit, nullum umquam tyrannorum ab initio usque in hodiernum diem uel de se editum misit uel in se extrinsecus incurrentem uiuum potentemue dimisit. 49 Orosius, 7.42.4: nequam magis quam probus, ‘more a wicked than a worthy man’. 50 Orosius, 7.8.1: Anno ab urbe condita DCCCXXIIII Galba apud Hispanias usurpauit imperium. 51 Florus, 2.33.48: amplexus efferam gentem ritum ferarum quasi quadam cogebat indagine.

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also adds a notion of urgency, which is absent in Florus, saying that the new emperor realised that all previous Roman campaigns in the peninsula would have been to no avail if the two ‘most valiant’, fortissimi, peoples of Spain, the Cantabrians and Astures, remained independent.52 Unlike in Florus, victory does not come easily. Orosius tells us that Augustus’s army often ‘toiled long in vain’ and was frequently ‘placed in danger’.53 The reader is meant to recall the struggle at Numantia and, once again, the war ends in a siege where Rome’s victory is an inglorious one with the Cantabrians committing mass suicide to avoid captivity. The following campaign against the Astures also brought ‘no little disaster to the Romans’ before it came to a close with a triumph, which again owed more to treachery than Roman prowess in arms.54 Nevertheless, a change in Orosius’s tone is detectable. He describes the Cantabrians as not merely defending themselves, but also indulging in aggression towards their neighbours. Here, he has departed from his approach to Viriathus and the Numantines and allows Rome to be seen as fighting a justifiable war. It is, after all, one fought in defence of an empire that God has ordained. Similarly, at the end of the Asturian campaign, the Asturians are referred to as ‘barbari’. While barbarus is not as strong a pejorative as barbarian in English, it nevertheless carries negative overtones and it is most unlikely that Orosius, who is normally scrupulous in his choice of words, has simply carelessly copied this term from Livy. Instead, it is a signal of disapproval as, like the Cantabrians, the Astures are fighting against the new empire which will help the growth of Christianity.55 Having dealt with the transition to the Principate, Orosius now presents the reader with a new breed of Spaniards, who gain credit not by opposing, but by giving important aid to, the new empire. His pride centres on three emperors in particular. The first is Trajan. For Orosius, it was God’s foresight (divina provisio) that inspired the elderly Nerva to appoint Trajan as his successor in order to save the state when it was in a time of troubles (adflicta respublica).56 His Spanish origins are proudly noted (he is genere Hispanus)57 and Orosius proceeds to list his conquests. Orosius often draws on Jerome’s 52 Orosius, 6.21.1: Caesar parum in Hispania per ducentos annos actum intellegens, si Cantabros atque Astures, duas fortissimas Hispaniae gentes, suis uti legibus sineret. 53 Orosius, 6.21.4; diu fatigato frustra atque in periculum saepe deducto exercitu. 54 Orosius, 6.21.10: non parua etiam Romanorum clade. 55 It is just conceivable that Orosius, who is likely to have been a Galician, cannot resist a minor jibe at his ancestral neighbours and enemies. 56 Orosius 7.11.1: reuera adflictae reipublicae diuina prouisione consuluit. 57 Orosius, 7.12.1.

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Latin version of Eusebius’s Chronicle for his Roman history, but here makes significant departures from it. While Jerome lists Trajan’s conquests, he says nothing of Trajan’s background and heaps no particular praise on him. He also notes that he was initially a persecutor of Christians, though after being ‘troubled’, commotus, by the Younger Pliny’s reports of their innocent activities, he ordered them not to be sought out, but punished if they were presented to him.58 This is an accurate summary of the surviving correspondence on the subject between the emperor and his governor.59 Jerome also notes the various natural disasters that occurred during Trajan’s reign, that Nero’s Golden House burned down in Rome as did the Pantheon after being struck by lightning, and that there was a major rebellion by the Jews. The fact that Trajan was a persecutor of Christians poses a problem for Orosius. It would have been counter-productive for him to attack an emperor who, rightly or wrongly, was still regarded by his contemporary target audience as the Optimus Princeps. Moreover, given his Spanish background, it would not have been his personal inclination to do so.60 His solution to this conundrum is to modify considerably what Jerome says. He concedes that Trajan was a persecutor, but also asserts that this was all a terrible mistake and that, as soon as he learnt from Pliny and the others he had appointed as their persecutors, that the Christians did nothing wrong, he immediately tempered his original edict.61 Nevertheless, his sin brings divine punishment, which was to be bereft of children.62 The implication that Orosius wishes to leave (and perhaps he himself believed) was that there was a lessening of persecution, but there is no evidence that this was the case. While disallowing hearsay evidence, the emperor is clear that confessing Christians are to be executed.63 While the disasters that occurred in Trajan’s reign are listed, the link Orosius normally makes between such occurrences and divine wrath is absent. The exception is the destruction of Nero’s Golden House where Orosius does see divine intervention. This occurred, he argues, ‘in order that it be understood that though this persecution was set in motion by another, punishment for it fell most heavily upon the buildings of the 58 Jerome, Chron. Trajan 11. 59 Pliny, Ep.10.96–97. 60 The wish of the senate for a new emperor was that he be more auspicious than Augustus and better than Trajan, Felicior Augusto, melior Traiano: Eutropius, 8.5.3. 61 Orosius 7.12.3: rescriptis ilico lenioribus temperauit edictum. 62 Understandably, Orosius suppresses Trajan’s homosexual tendencies (Dio 68.7), which may also explain his lack of children. 63 Pliny, Ep. 10.97.1–2, Actum quem debuisti, mi Secunde, in excutiendis causis eorum, qui Christiani ad te delati fuerant, secutus es. Conquirendi non sunt; si deferantur et arguantur, puniendi sunt.

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man who first began the persecution and who was the its real author’.64 Thus, the dead Nero becomes and, importantly, is seen by God as the true author of Trajan’s persecution. The Spanish emperor is allowed to escape, if not entirely guiltless, at least with heavy mitigation. The fact that there was a major Jewish revolt at the end of the reign could also have been interpreted by Orosius as a further sign of God’s wrath, but, in fact, he uses it to deflect criticism of the emperor, seeing it as presumptive evidence of the emperor’s worth as it was the Jews, God’s enemies, who rose up against him. It is also of note that Orosius suppresses Jerome’s list of the commanders sent against the Jews, mentioning only Hadrian, thus presenting his readers with a suitably pious preamble to Trajan’s successor. Orosius tells us that Hadrian was Trajan’s nephew and so wants his readers to infer that, as part of the close family, he, too, was a Spaniard, as was certainly the case.65 Remarkably, Orosius heaps far more praise on Hadrian than Jerome, describing him as ruling by ‘the most righteous of laws’.66 The foundation of this praise lies in his belief that Hadrian had strong Christian sympathies after being taught about the faith by two Athenian church fathers and also an imperial governor, Serenius Granus. Once again, Orosius has significantly modified his source. Jerome tells us that Serenius sent letters to Hadrian protesting that men should not be executed without proof of guilt, but Orosius goes much further, implying that Granus was a Christian sympathiser and that the letters he sent to the emperor were, in fact, Christian apologia.67 The consequence of this ‘education’ was a rescript to the governor of Asia, Fundanus, which forbade legal action to be taken against Christians without evidence. In reality, this seems to have been little more than a re-affirmation of Trajan’s rescript to Pliny.68 Orosius then elides two entries in Jerome, saying that Hadrian immediately received an unprecedented acclamation as pater patriae by the Senate.69 The reader is

64 Orosius 7.12.4: ut intellegeretur missa etiam ab alio persecutio in ipsius potissime monumentis, a quo primum exorta esset, atque in ipso auctore puniri. 65 Orosius, 7.13.1. Jerome, Chron. Hadr.1, explicitly states that Hadrian was born in Italica. 66 Orosius 7.13.3: iustissimis legibus. 67 Jerome’s account (Chron. Hadrian 9–10) Et Serenus Granius legatus, vir apprime nobilis, litteras ad imperatorem mittit, iniquum esse dicens, clamoribus vulgi innocentium hominum sanguinem concedi, et ullo crimine, nominis tantum et sectae reos fieri is transformed by Orosius 7.13.2 into per Serenum Granium legatum libris de Christiana religione conpositis instructus atque eruditus. 68 Evidence for it exists only in Christian sources – Orosius will have obtained the information from Jerome’s Chronicle which in turn draws on Eusebius, Eccl Hist. 4.8–9. 69 Jerome, Chron. Hadr. 11, 12. Jerome gives no indication that the two entries are linked. Orosius 7.13.3: idemque continuo pater patriae in senatu ultra morem maiorum appellatur

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thus led to believe that the award was for the emperor’s treatment of the Christian question. Hadrian is also praised for the suppression of the Jewish Bar Cochba rebellion and his forbidding Jews to enter Jerusalem, while permitting Christians access to the city. Indeed, despite the fact that Hadrian built an enormous pagan temple on the site of the Jewish temple, Orosius’s words could almost be read as implying that Jerusalem became a Christian city.70 These are again a substantial embroidering of Jerome’s account, which merely notes that Jews were forbidden from entering the city.71 We are left with an impression of a just ruler with a good understanding of Christianity and strong sympathies for it. This positive assessment of Hadrian is important as it is not based on a long-standing posthumous popularity of the sort Trajan enjoyed. Hadrian’s reputation was highly ambivalent in late antiquity. The author of SHA was clear that Hadrian was a naturally cruel individual who died ‘hated by all’. The anonymous author of the Epitoma de Caesaribus is equally hostile, seeing the emperor as a cunning dissimulator.72 There is also much in Jerome’s account of Hadrian that has been suppressed. This includes statements that Hadrian let many of Trajan’s conquests slip from the empire out of envy,73 that he was an unrestrained homosexual pederast who had his dead lover Antinous deified,74 that he was initiated into the pagan mysteries,75 and that he built the largest pagan temple ever seen at Rome: that of Rome and Venus.76 Also absent from Orosius’s account is one of his habitual markers of divine displeasure: natural disasters. In Jerome, we are told of catastrophic earthquakes in Nicomedia and Nicaea and flooding at Eleusis.77 In Orosius there is only silence. The only way to explain this favouritism is the emperor’s nationality. Orosius wishes to show that the first proto-Christian ruler of the Empire was a Spaniard. This is impossible with Trajan, so Hadrian is his candidate. To do this, he has been, by turns, extremely parsimonious and inventive with his sources. He shows a similar surprising partiality to another Spaniard, 70 Dio 69.12; Orosius 7.13.5: cui Iudaeo introeundi Hierosolymam esset licentia, Christianis tantum ciuitate permissa. For the Hadrianic city, see Balfour, Solomon’s Temple, pp. 88–91. 71 Jerome, Chron. Hadr. 18: Ex quo tempore etiam introeundi eis Ierosolymam licentia ablata, primum Dei nutu, sicut prophetae vaticinati sunt, deinde Romanis interdictionibus. 72 SHA Hadr. 24: invisusque omnibus sepultus est; Epitoma de Caesaribus 11: ingenium invidum triste lascivum et ad ostentationem sui insolens callide tegebat. 73 Jerome, Chron. Hadr. 1. 74 Ibid., Hadr. 2 and 13. 75 Ibid., Hadr. 9. 76 Ibid., Hadr. 15; cf. Dio 69.4. 77 Ibid., Hadr. 4 and 7.

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the hero of sub-Roman Britain, Magnus Maximus. Maximus, the governor of Britannia, launched a coup against the Empire in AD 383, which brought about the death of the emperor, Gratian. Usually, Orosius would have no time for such an individual, yet here, he adds an apologia: ‘he was a vigorous and able man, worthy of the office of Emperor had he not obtained it by usurpation contrary to his oath’.78 Maximus was born in Galicia, probably close to Orosius’s own place of birth. This is not mentioned in the text, as this would be to concede that Spain had produced rebels. Moreover, he also had executed the Spanish heresiarch Priscillian, who had particularly exercised the orthodox Orosius (again Orosius cannot explicitly mention this, as to do so would be to admit that heresy had flourished in Spain).79 Thus, Maximus’s place of birth and orthodox faith, two matters of the greatest concern to Orosius, bring him an exculpatory rather than a damning footnote. The hero of Orosius’s History is another Spaniard, Theodosius the Great. It is Theodosius who puts the capstone of God’s plans into place by creating an orthodox, Christian empire. After the catastrophe of Adrianople, Gratian, we are told in language that carefully parallels that previously used of Trajan, seeing the state in trouble and close to collapse (adflictum ac paene conlapsum) with that same foresight, eadem provisione, through which once Nerva had chosen a man of Spain (Hispanum virum), Trajan, by whom the state was restored, he too chose Theodosius, also a man of Spain (aeque Hispanum virum) and, as the state needed setting aright again, invested him with the purple at Sirmium.80

The foresight, provisio, used by Nerva was divinely inspired, so the reader must assume that, like Trajan, Theodosius is God’s choice of ruler and, in both cases, God looked to Spain to find the man he needed. The phrase used for the restoration of the state respublica restituenda harks back to Augustus’s restoration of the Roman World. Orosius’s choice of words and parallels is careful and intentionally suggestive. Theodosius is immediately linked to the two best emperors of the past and, like Augustus, founds Rome anew. 78 Orosius, 7.34.9: uir quidem strenuus et probus atque Augusto dignus nisi contra sacramenti fidem per tyrannidem emersisset. 79 See his Consultatio Sive Commonitorium Ad Sanctum Augustinum, ed. K–D. Daur = CCSL 49 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1985). 80 Orosius, 7.34.2: qui cum adflictum ac paene conlapsum reipublicae statum uideret, eadem prouisione, qua quondam legerat Nerua Hispanum uirum Traianum, per quem respublica reparata est, legit et ipse Theodosium aeque Hispanum uirum et restituendae reipublicae necessitate apud Sirmium purpura induit.

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However, Theodosius’s refoundation is by far the better of the two as it is Christian. Likewise, because of his faith Theodosius also outshines Trajan: In one respect Gratian had the better judgment; for while Theodosius was Trajan’s equal in all the virtues of our mortal life, he outstripped him beyond all compare in his devotion to the Faith and in his reverence for Religion. Now because the earlier emperor was a persecutor, and the later one, a propagator, of the Church, the former was not granted even a single son in whose succession he could rejoice, whereas the latter’s glorious progeny have ruled over both East and the West through successive generations down to our own day.81

Thus, the best of emperors was a Spaniard and Spaniards continue to rule the best of empires, down to Orosius’s own day, and shall do so for the foreseeable future. Orosius’s words are disingenuous: at the time he wrote, ‘successive generations’ were but one, namely, Theodosius’s two sons Arcadius and Honorius. In the West there were to be no more. For Orosius, his countryman Theodosius is the perfect Christian hero who put all his trust in his God with the result that he proved a greater and more courageous general than even the pagan hero Alexander the Great.82 He saves Rome from a reversion to paganism by crushing Eugenius’s attempt at usurpation at the battle of Lake Frigidus, where he has a Gethsemane-like experience prior to the battle and the aid of a divine miracle during the fighting.83 After delivering Rome from this grave danger, he dies. Orosius takes care to suppress anything that would harm his hero’s reputation. In particular, there is no mention of the massacre Theodosius ordered at Thessalonica in AD 390, nor his excommunication by St Ambrose, nor the enforced penance that followed as a result.84 For Orosius’s readers, Theodosius is an unstained paladin of the church. Orosius also praises Theodosius’s son Honorius for his ‘exceptional piety and good fortune’, optima […] religione et felicitate.85 He provides a rhetorical 81 Orosius, 7.34.3–4: in hoc perfectiore iudicio, quia, cum in omnibus humanae uitae uirtutibus iste par fuerit, in fidei sacramento religionisque cultu sine ulla comparatione praecessit; siquidem ille persecutor, hic propagator Ecclesiae. ita illi ne unus quidem proprius filius, quo successore gauderet, indultus est; huius autem orienti simul atque occidenti per succiduas usque ad nunc generationes gloriosa propago dominatur. 82 Orosius, 7.34.5. 83 Orosius, 7.35.14–19. 84 Ambrose, Ep. 51, Theodoret, HE 5.17. 85 Orosius, 7.42.15.

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tour de force that turns Alaric’s sack of Rome into a triumphal procession demonstrating the power of Christianity.86 The account of the sack, which Orosius says the metropolitan Romans hardly noticed because of their obsession with the games, is followed by a list of the other woes that beset the empire.87 The reader cannot fail to notice that it is only in Iberia where there was any defence of the legitimate order, it being led by two land owners, Didymus and Verinianus, who were patriotic enough to raise troops from their own lands and pockets.88 Orosius’s subsequent relentless optimism for the emperor Honorius has not weathered the storm of hindsight well. However, it is internally consistent and responds to his brief. The History’s vision of a divinely ordained Christian empire is important in itself, but it is also important as a fidelista tract that demonstrates that the existence, or indeed the appearance, of strong local identities within the empire by no means detracted from loyalty to the larger institution. For Orosius, the empire is a great institution, but a very special part of this institution is constituted by his homeland. In his eyes, he comes from the best part of the best empire and thus is both a regionalist and a Roman patriot. No doubt such sentiments were echoed, terris mutatis, across the Empire.89 In his two loves, Orosius not only reaches out to the fidelistas of the future like Inca Garcilaso, but also to an earlier Roman patriot whose homeland lay not in Rome, but in a village some sixty miles to its south. Like Jerome, whether he knew it or not, Orosius too was at heart a Ciceronian.90

Works cited Balfour, Alan, Solomon’s Temple: Myth, Conflict, and Faith (Chichester: Wiley, 2012). Davies, Sioned, The Mabinogion (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). 86 Orosius, 7.39. In terms of the structuring of the History, this passage must be contrasted with the equally rhetorically powerful description of the disastrous sack of 390 BC found in book 2.19.13–15. 87 Orosius 1.6.4: ut libere conclamaret, Si reciperet circum, nihil esse sibi factum, hoc est, nihil egisse Romae Gothorum enses, si concedatur Romanis spectare circenses, ‘they freely cried out that If the circus was brought back, nothing had happened to them. That is to say the swords of the Goths wrought nothing at Rome, as long as the Romans were allowed to watch their circuses’, cf. Orosius, 7.40.1. 88 Orosius 7.40.5–7. 89 By, for example, Synesius of Cyrene. 90 Jerome, Ep. 22.30. For Cicero’s theorising on two homelands see Laws 2–5. For his praise of Arpinum, see Tusc. Disp. 5.74 and Ad Q. f. 3.1.1. Cicero also wrote a now lost poem in praise of another famous son of Arpinum, Gaius Marius.

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Garcilaso de la Vega, Inca, Comentarios Reales, ed. by Enrique Pupo-Walker (Madrid: Ediciones Catedra, 2007). Nash-Williams, Victor E., The Early Christian Monuments of Wales (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1950). Porras Barranechea, Raúl, El Inca Garcilaso de la Vega (Lima: Lumen, 1946). Schmidt, Rachel, ‘The Development of “Hispanitas” in Spanish Sixteenth-Century Versions of the Fall of Numancia’, Renaissance and Reformation / Renaissance et Réforme N.S. 19,2 (1995), 27–45. Williams, Guy, ‘Defining a Roman Identity in the Res Gestae of Ammianus Marcellinus: The Dialogue between “Roman” and “foreign” (unpublished PhD thesis, University of Manchester, 2018).

About the author Educated at Lancaster RGS and New College, Oxford, Andrew Fear is a lecturer in Ancient History at the University of Manchester. His research interests include ancient military history, the development of early Christianity, and historiography. He has published an annotated translation of Orosius (in English) for Liverpool University Press.

5.

Orosius, Barbarians, and the Christian Success Story Maijastina Kahlos

Abstract In the course of the fourth and fifth centuries, Christian writers developed an interpretatio Christiana of the history of humankind. In Orosius’s construction of the past, this understanding was framed as the success story of Christianity. In his Histories Against the Pagans, Orosius perceived history as guided by divine providence. Consequently, the appearance of Christianity in the Roman Empire was held to be part of God’s divine plan for humankind. Christian success stories provided justification for the Christian church(es) in the past, present, and future. For his part, Orosius followed the ethos of the earlier Christian narratives in which the (alleged or real) triumph of the religious group functioned as legitimation of its being right. This chapter examines how the figures of barbarians function in Orosius’s narrative of Christian triumph. Keywords: Orosius, history, early Christianity, Late Antiquity, barbarians, Christian triumphalism

Introduction One of these was Christian, more like a Roman (unus Christianus propiorque Romano), and as events have proved, less savage in his slaughter through his fear of God. The other was a pagan and barbarian, a true Scythian (alius paganus barbarus et vere Scytha), whose insatiable cruelty loved slaughter for slaughter’s sake as much as glory and plunder.1 1 Orosius, Historiae adversus paganos (hereafter Hist.) 7.37.9: quorum unus Christianus propiorque Romano et, ut res docuit, timore Dei mitis in caede, alius paganus barbarus et vere

Ubric Rabaneda, P. (ed.), Writing History in Late Antique Iberia: Historiography in Theory and Practice from the Fourth to the Seventh Century. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2022 doi 10.5117/9789463729413_ch05

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This is how the Roman writer Orosius compares two Gothic warlords in the seventh book of his Histories Against the Pagans. Why is the leader of one attacking enemy group, Alaric, presented as propiorque Romano, ‘nearer to being Roman’, even though his troops sacked the city of Rome in 410? And why is Radagaisus, the leader of another attacking Gothic force, which devastated Italy in 405–406, described as a barbarian and vere Scytha, ‘a true Scythian’, as Goths were habitually called by Greco-Roman writers? What is the difference between the two Gothic leaders? Orosius describes Radagaisus as insatiably cruel and bloodthirsty, while Alaric is depicted as ‘less savage in his slaughter’ because of his Christianity. Furthermore, Orosius states that Alaric was a Christian and Radagaisus a pagan. Thus, in the late fourth and early fifth centuries, one criterion for being Roman, at least for the Christian writer Orosius, was religious adherence.2 Orosius’s decision to describe Alaric as a proper Roman becomes understandable in the context of his narrative of Christian success in world history. In this example, found in the middle of his exposition, it is expedient for Orosius to make a distinction between Romanness, which is characterised in terms of Christianity, and barbarity, which is characterised in terms of paganism. Orosius employs the ‘barbarian’ Alaric as an argumentative tool in his narrative. This passage is one of the instances in which Orosius uses the barbarian figure in order to enhance his narrative of Christian triumph. In this chapter, I will look at how the figures of barbarians function in Orosius’ triumphalist accounts and locate each of these examples in their narrative and rhetorical context.

The Christian success story In the fourth and f ifth centuries, several Christian writers developed Christian narratives of the history of humankind. In the evolving Christian Scytha, qui non tantum gloriam aut praedam quantum inexsaturabili crudelitate ipsam caedem amaret in caede, […]. Trans. Fear, Orosius, Seven Books, p. 398. Radagaisus and Alaric also appear in Augustine’s City of God 5.23. 2 Orosius was not the only writer to make this connection between being Roman and Christianity, and, at the same time, between the former civic religion and being un-Roman and even barbarian. Ambrose of Milan, for example, identified what is Christian with being Roman and, correspondingly, what is non-Christian (‘pagan’) with being barbarian. He stressed that pagan Rome had nothing in common with barbarians but idolatry, as both were ignorant of the one true divinity. Ambrose, Epistula 18.7 (= Epistula 72, CSEL 82.3). Liebeschuetz, Ambrose of Milan. Political Letters, p. 83.

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understanding of history, this meant re-evaluating and rearranging past events, ideas, and persons on the collective mental map of history. In Orosius’s (as well as several other writers’) constructions of the past, this understanding was a Christian success story. In his Histories Against the Pagans (Historiae adversus paganos), written in 416/417, Orosius perceived history as guided by divine providence. Consequently, the appearance of Christianity in the Roman Empire was held to be part of the divine plan for humankind. The Christian success stories provided justification for the Christian church(es) in the past, present, and future. For his part, Orosius followed the ethos of the earlier Christian narratives (as early as from the canonical Acts of Apostles onwards) in which the (alleged or real) triumph of the religious group functioned as legitimation of its being right.3 For example, metaphors of growth abound in Orosius’s narrative of the spread of Christianity. 4 Connected to this success story is Orosius’s enterprise to show that the traditional Roman view of the past as glorious and praiseworthy was false. Therefore, Orosius sets to the task of giving a systematic list of human miseries, from Creation until his own time, to show his audience that the (pagan) past had not been better than the Christian present and that, in fact, the Romans in the present were faring far better than people in the past. It is worth noting that Orosius does not make any naïve claims of absolute happiness or the total end of miseries in this world. It is a comparative perspective rather than an absolute one. In order to make an apologetic against the pagans’ claims of the glorious past, Orosius needs to emphasise the Christian success in this world. For example, in the very beginning of the Histories, he states that: ‘the days gone by were as fraught as the present, and all the more horribly wretched as they were further from the salvation of True Religion’.5 Orosius uses different rhetorical techniques to challenge the traditional Roman view of the glorious Roman history, and the use of 3 The most well-known representative of the Christian triumphalist narrative is Eusebius of Caesarea, who construed a victorious path for Christianity not only in his Church History (Historia ecclesiastica 9–10) but also in The Life of Constantine (Vita Constantini 2.26–27). On Eusebius’s triumphalism, see Kofsky, Eusebius of Caesarea, pp.148–149. 4 Van Nuffelen, Orosius, p.152 on metaphors of the rise of Christianity (for example sowing and growing). 5 Oros. Hist. 1. pr. 14: nanctus sum enim praeteritos dies non solum aeque ut hos graves, verum etiam tanto atrocius miseros quanto longius a remedio verae religionis alienos. Trans. Fear, Orosius, Seven Books, p. 33. The comparative perspective goes throughout the Histories Against the Pagans, but for apologetic and rhetorical reasons the end of Histories accelerates into high praise of the Christian triumph.

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‘barbarians’ is one of them. Let us look at how the term ‘barbarians’ functions in Orosius’ account of Christian success in his Histories.

The use of barbarians In his rhetorical and argumentative application of ‘barbarians’, Orosius follows a long tradition of Greek and Roman writers who used the barbarian f igure as a tool of contrast, providing both a negative and positive counterpoint to the Greeks and Romans. The manner of contrasting was fundamentally connected with the rhetorical and argumentative purposes of each writer. To mention the most famous examples, Tacitus and Salvian of Marseille praised Germani beyond the frontiers or as newcomers within the Empire, which functioned as a chastisement of their fellow Romans. Moreover, it is not always very fruitful to try to systematically define that an ancient author had such and such views of barbarians. In one context, the Constantinopolitan rhetorician Themistius depicts Romans as superior and Goths as inferior, being near to beasts; he stresses that what keeps ‘Scythians’ [Goths] separate from Romans is not any river or fortifications but fear, which is an unsurmountable obstacle once the enemy is ‘convinced that he is inferior’.6 In another context, the same Themistius generously advocates the policy of accommodation, by means of which Goths could become settled in Thrace and ‘share our offerings, our tables, our military ventures, and public duties’, that is, become Romans.7 In the case of Orosius, barbarians are harnessed to serve his teleological view of Roman and human history.8 When Orosius wants to undermine 6 Themistius, Oratio 10.138d (Schenkl and Downey, pp. 210–211): ‘It is not river, lagoon or parapet that keeps Scythians from Romans – for these can be broken down, sailed across and surmounted – but fear, an obstacle which no man has ever surmounted, once he is convinced that he is inferior’. Trans. Heather and Matthews, The Goths, p. 43. 7 Themistius, Oratio 16.211d. Trans. Heather and Moncur, Politics, p. 281. The oration was delivered after the peace treaty made by Theodosius I with the Goths in 382. Themistius praises Theodosius for his generosity (philanthropia) in accommodating the Goths rather than making corpses of them; in reality, Theodosius was forced to make a compromise and give semi-autonomous status to the Gothic groups in Thrace. For the context, see Lenski, ‘Initium mali’, pp.143–144 and Garnsey and Humfress, Evolution, p.101. 8 As Van Nuffelen, Orosius, p.171 argues, barbarians do not play an independent role in Orosius’ Histories. Therefore, looking for a consistent or coherent view is unproductive. Goetz, Geschichtstheologie, pp. 128–131 interpreted Orosius’s ambiguity towards barbarians as originating from a combination of Christian missionary optimism and traditional Roman contempt.

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the self-esteem of the Romans and their feeling of being something special and glorious in world history, he reduces or effaces the alleged distinction between Romans and barbarians, thereby challenging Roman feelings of supremacy. One example is Orosius’s reversal of Alexander of Macedon and the Roman conquerers, whom contemporary Romans admired as great empire-builders. Orosius represents them as destructive troublemakers and murderous enemies ‘when they made war on unknown, peaceful peoples’.9 Consequently, Orosius shows his readers the other side of the Roman conquests – that from the point of view of the conquered peoples, Roman glory meant only suffering. Part of this relativism is the way in which Orosius then compares the Romans of the past to the contemporary barbarians who: are now throwing into confusion as their enemies those whom, if they conquer them, and, may God not allow this to come to pass, they will endeavour to rule after their own fashion, and thus those whom we now regard as our most brutal enemies, will be considered as great kings by posterity.10

Barbarians and the civilising force of Christianity As I mentioned above, for Orosius, the Christian success story indicated the improvement of human life as compared with an earlier harsher time, not the end of wars and all human suffering in absolute terms. Thus, it did not mean complete peace but that the Christian era was superior to any other period in the past. The superiority of the Christiana tempora that Orosius writes about is in relation to its difference in degree.11 For example, due to God’s providence, the Roman Empire and Christianity together made the Mediterranean area a unity in which people as refugees could look for refuge in another region of the Empire (for example, as refugees after the sack of Rome found shelter in North Africa) and there was no difference 9 Oros. Hist. 3.20.11: Respondebitur: hoc et tunc toto orienti de Alexandro videbatur, talesque et Romani aliis visi sunt, dum bellis ignotos quietosque petiverunt. Orosius’s relativism is also apparent in 5.1.4, where he points out that the good fortune of Rome was a great misfortune to the entire world around it. 10 Oros. Hist. 3.20.12: […] et hi nunc hostiliter turbant quae – in quo non permiserit Deus – si edomita obtinerent, ritu suo conponere molirentur, dicendi posteris magni reges, qui nunc nobis saevissimi hostes adiudicantur. Trans. Fear, Orosius, Seven Books, pp. 141–142. 11 See Van Nuffelen, Orosius, pp. 159–161 on the difference in degree.

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of laws or religion. Thus, Romanisation was beneficial, but its impact was glorified and perfected by the Christian religion.12 For Orosius, as a result of God’s providence, barbarians arriving in the Empire as invaders were converted to Christianity and thereby tamed of their wild nature.13 They became moral and civilised agents. Thus, improved circumstances were the result of the civilising force of Christianity, Orosius argues. To support this view, especially at the very end of the Histories Against the Pagans, Orosius tells his readers about the imperial princess Galla Placidia and her marriage with Athaulf. Galla Placidia was taken captive during the sack of Rome. After Alaric’s death, Athaulf married her. Athaulf was a vigorous enemy of the Empire, who was first determined to ‘obliterate the name of Rome and make the Romans’ land the Goths’ empire in both word and deed’.14 He changed his mind when he learned that the wild barbarism of the Goths would need the Roman state and laws, and he then became the author of Rome’s renewal (Romanae restitutionis auctor).15 Orosius portrays Athaulf as influenced by the persuasive advice of Galla Placidia, who was truly virtuous in religion (religione satis probae).16 Likewise, it happened according to God’s providential will that Athaulf’s successor Vallia ended up making peace with the Romans, after becoming terrified of God’s judgement (territus maxime iudicio Dei) shown in the disasters that befell the Goths in their attempts to attack Africa (in 415) and Sicily (in 410).17 In the course of the Christiana tempora, Orosius concludes, many wars have ended, many usurpers have been put down, and even ferocious peoples have been defeated and restrained – and all these great achievements have taken place with very little bloodshed, without any battles, and almost without any killing (minimo sanguine, nullo certamine ac paene sine caede). In sum, 12 Oros. Hist. 7.41.4–5. Orosius states that barbarians even offered help when they were paid. For the totality and unity of the Christian Roman commonwealth that Christian discourse manifested in the fourth and fifth centuries, see Cameron, Christianity, pp.189–221 and Jacobs, Remains, p. 22. 13 Oros. Hist. 7.41.8–9. Cf. Prudentius, Contra orationem Symmachi 1.458–60; 2.578–618. 14 Oros. Hist. 7.43.5: Se inprimis ardenter inhiasse, ut oblitterato Romano nomine Romanum omne solum Gothorum imperium et faceret et vocaret essetque, ut vulgariter loquar, Gothia quod Romania fuisset et fieret nunc Athaulfus quod quondam Caesar Augustus, […]. 15 Oros. Hist. 7.43.6: […] at ubi multa experientia probavisset neque Gothos ullo modo parere legibus posse propter effrenatam barbariem neque reipublicae interdici leges oportere, sine quibus respublica non est respublica, elegisse saltim, ut gloriam sibi de restituendo in integrum augendoque Romano nomine Gothorum viribus quaereret habereturque apud posteros Romanae restitutionis auctor, postquam esse non potuerat immutator. 16 Oros. Hist. 7.43.7: […] praecipue Placidiae uxoris suae, feminae sane ingenio acerrimae et religione satis probae, ad omnia bonarum ordinationum opera persuasu et consilio temperatus. 17 Oros. Hist. 7.43.11–12.

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there was nothing comparable in human history to the Christiana tempora that resulted in such a degree of felicitas.18 Now we return to Radagaisus and Alaric mentioned at the beginning of this chapter. In Orosius’s view of the civilising influence of Christianity, Alaric is the proof of its impact. He depicts the sack of Rome as an event moderated by Christianity,19 with Christian belief even softening the barbarians’ style of warfare. This is why Alaric is emphatically framed as Christian and almost Roman. Radagaisus is the real barbarian (and depicted as acting in the savage manner that the real barbarian was supposed to act in the Roman view) because he is pagan. Furthermore, in his narrative of a Roman campaign against the Goths, Orosius uses the Goths’ Christianity to make another contrast. The comparison is made between the Goths, who ceased warfare on Easter because they respected religion (propter religionem), and a Roman pagan commander named Saul, who had no such respect for religion and led his troops against the Goths on the holy day. He is described as the real barbarian because he is pagan (cum barbaro et pagano duci).20 The real difference between Roman and barbarian thus follows the distinction of Christian and pagan, and Romanness is defined as a religious and/or cultural marker, not an ethnic one.

Wonderful times without bloodshed Orosius systematically aims to show that the Roman past was not only not better than the Christian present, but in all respects more miserable.21 18 Oros. Hist. 7.43.16–17: Ex quo utcumque concesserim, ut licenter Christiana tempora reprehendantur, si quid a conditione mundi usque ad nunc simili factum felicitate doceatur. Manifestavimus, ut arbitror, atque ostendimus non magis verbo paene quam digito innumera bella sopita, plurimos extinctos tyrannos, conpressas coangustatas addictas exinanitasque immanissimas gentes minimo sanguine, nullo certamine ac paene sine caede. 19 Oros. Hist. 7.39. On the sympathetic account of Alaric’s Goths, see Merrills, History, 41–43, 61–62. 20 Oros. Hist. 7.37.2: Taceo de infelicibus illis apud Pollentiam gestis, cum barbaro et pagano duci, hoc est Sauli, belli summa commissa est, cuius inprobitate reverentissimi dies et sanctum pascha violatum est cedentique hosti propter religionem, ut pugnaret, extortum est: cum quidem, ostendente in brevi iudicio Dei et quid favor eius possit et quid ultio exigeret, pugnantes vicimus, victores victi sumus. 21 Cf. Oros. Hist. 1. prol. 14: Nanctus sum enim praeteritos dies non solum aeque ut hos graves, verum etiam tanto atrocius miseros quanto longius a remedio verae religionis alienos: ut merito hac scrutatione claruerit regnasse mortem avidam sanguinis, dum ignoratur religio quae prohiberet a sanguine; ista inlucescente, illam constupuisse; illam concludi, cum ista iam praevalet; illam penitus nullam futuram, cum haec sola regnabit.

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Here again, he harnesses barbarians as a tool in his argumentation: even barbarians in the present are less destructive than in past times, as they (in this case, Goths) abandoned their swords and turned to the ploughs, treating the Romans as allies and friends.22 Similar optimism was voiced by Themistius, who advocated the policy of accommodation in which Goths could become settled in Thrace and ‘share our offerings, our tables, our military ventures, and public duties’.23 As mentioned above, Orosius emphasised that the Christiana tempora had all these great achievements with very little bloodshed, without any battles, and almost without any killing. He presented this wonderful image in order to provide contrast with the false glorious image of the Roman past, which Roman writers had cherished and which he had just deconstructed in the preceding books.24 In Christian times and under Christian emperors, even civil wars were handled nicely and neatly, such as when Emperor Theodosius I achieved almost bloodless victories over his enemies.25 This had been a frequently used topos in panegyrics in Antiquity: the triumphant ruler or general, depicted as achieving victory with a minimum cost of lives for the community. Likewise, in his laudatory narrative of Theodosius’s splendid emperorship,26 Orosius also remarked that in the civil war against the usurper Eugenius, Theodosius’s victory cost only two men’s lives, those of Arbogastes and Eugenius himself – excepting, of course, those ten thousand Goths who had fought on Theodosius’s side and died in battle, and whose demise the historian counts as an advantage rather than a loss.27

22 Oros. Hist. 7.41.7: Quamquam et post hoc quoque continuo barbari exsecrati gladios suos ad aratra conversi sunt residuosque Romanos ut socios modo et amicos fovent. 23 Themistius, Oratio 16.211d (Schenkl and Downey, p. 302). The oration was delivered after the peace treaty made by Theodosius I with the Goths in 382. For the context, see Lenski, ‘Initium mali’, pp.143–144 and Garnsey and Humfress, Evolution, p. 101. 24 Orosius (Hist. 1. prol. 9) disparages his fellow (pagan) Romans for their groundless and useless longing for the great past, stating that his opponents neither inquire into the future ( futura non quaerant) nor know (praeterita autem aut obliviscantur aut nesciant) about the past. In their ignorance, they complain about the present (praesentia […] tempora). 25 Oros. Hist. 7.35, esp. 7.35.5: incruentam victoriam Deo procurante; 7.35.6: Ecce regibus et temporibus Christianis qualiter bella civilia […] transiguntur. Oros. Hist. 7.35.8 argues that this was no coincidence. 26 Oros. Hist. 1.16.2 parallels Theodosius with Alexander of Macedon. The latter had avoided warfare with the Scythians, whom late antique writers connected with the Goths of their day. Theodosius is also positively contrasted with the heretical Valens and the pagan Julian, here in regard to the Persians. 27 Oros. Hist. 7.35.19: Eugenius captus atque interfectus est; Arbogastes sua sese manu perculit. Ita et hic duorum sanguine bellum civile restinctum est, absque illis decem milibus Gothorum quos

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Here, the attention is drawn to Orosius’s blunt remark. In this context, the barbarians have a completely different function than in the examples discussed earlier. Orosius does not care whether a myriad of Goths die in the battle as Theodosius’s allies – or, if he cares, it is seen as a good thing that this group of people perishes. The figure of the barbarian serves his purpose to minimise for his readers the loss of Romans, and he expects his readers to share this view. Therefore, the positive examples of barbarians in the civilising process (discussed above) and this example with the chilling attitude of ‘who cares what happens to the barbarians’ serve different argumentative purposes. Therefore, there is no use in trying to find any fixed, coherent perspective (for instance, on the axis of positive – negative – neutral). What is consistent is the fact that different frames from a repertoire of barbarian images can be used in various ways, depending on the argumentative purpose.

The sacks of Rome The sacks of Rome by the Gauls during the early republic in 390/387 BCE and then by the Goths in 410 provided Orosius with a useful comparison between military disasters in the distant pagan past and those in the recent Christian past. Understandably, in the Roman cultural context, the sack of Troy also hung in the background.28 All of these three were interconnected in the discussions of Orosius’s day, and he responded to these debates. The dispute over the sack of 410 colours Orosius’ entire work.29 As is well known, the more recent sack of Rome was depicted in his treatment as less catastrophic than the primeval one. The mythical sack of Rome by Gauls was a collective traumatic incident for Romans, frequently discussed in Roman literature,30 and thus it represented a carefully chosen point for praemissos a Theodosio Arbogastes delesse funditus fertur: quos utique perdidisse lucrum et vinci vincere fuit. 28 Oros. Hist. 2.18.4 connects the sack of Troy to his narrative by referring to Virgil’s Aeneid 2.361–362: Ecce parvissima pagina verbisque paucissimis quantos de tot provinciis populis atque urbibus non magis explicui actus operum, quam inplicui globos miseriarum. Quis enim cladem illius temporis, quis fando funera explicet aut aequare lacrimis possit dolores? 29 For contemporary reactions to the sack of 410, see McLynn, ‘Orosius’, pp. 323–333; Mathisen, ‘Roma’, pp. 87–102; Salzman, ‘Memory’, pp. 295–307. 30 On the importance of the sack of Rome by Gauls in the collective memory of Romans, see Kahlos, ‘Divine Wrath’, p. 185.

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comparison in Orosius’s argumentation. As he argues, the earlier defeat and siege of six months was far more detrimental to the Romans than the recent defeat and sack of three days.31 While his opponents did not ‘weigh equally the story of a past disaster with a calamity in the present’, for him the present scenario was deemed better: ‘Behold the times in comparison with which the present is weighed; behold the times for which our memory sighs’.32 As mentioned before, Orosius argues that the barbarians of his day – but only Christian barbarians – are less dangerous than the barbarians of the past, such as the Gauls who sacked Rome. As we saw earlier, Orosius stressed the Christianity of Alaric and his Goths. As Christians, they showed respect to churches as asylum and offered clemency for Romans who had fled into the churches; they even avoided warfare on the Christian feast day of Easter.

The providential role of barbarians According to Orosius, even the sack of 410 was part of God’s providential plan. In this regard, the role of barbarians was twofold: first, the Goths acted as God’s tool of punishment, and second, the sack eventually benefited the Empire. Because of it, the imperial princess Galla Placidia ended up in the hands of the Goths and married Athaulf, who in due course and influenced by her became the great friend of Romans and the protector of 31 See Oros. Hist. 2.19 on the sack of Rome by the Gauls. Cf. Hist. 2.19.12–15: En tempora, quorum conparatione praesentia ponderantur; en, de quibus recordatio suspirat; en, quae incutiunt de electa vel potius de neglecta religione paenitentiam. Revera pares sunt et conferuntur inter se hae duae captivitates: illa sex mensibus desaeviens et tribus diebus ista transcurrens; Galli exstincto populo urbe deleta ipsum quoque Romae nomen in extremis cineribus persequentes et Gothi relicta intentione praedandi ad confugia salutis, hoc est sanctorum locorum, agmina ignara cogentes; ibi vix quemquam inventum senatorem, qui vel absens evaserit, hic vix quemquam requiri, qui forte ut latens perierit. Recte sane conpararim, hunc fuisse ibi servatorum numerum, qui hic fuerit perditorum. Plane, quod re proditur, et fatendum est: in hac clade praesenti plus Deum saevisse, homines minus, cum, peragendo ipse quod illi non inplevissent, cur eos miserit demonstravit. Quippe cum supra humanas vires esset, incendere aeneas trabes et subruere magnarum moles structurarum, ictu fulminum forum cum imaginibus vanis, quae superstitione miserabili vel deum vel hominem mentiuntur, abiectum est, horumque omnium abominamentorum, quod inmissa per hostem flamma non adiit, missus e caelo ignis evertit. On this comparison, see Goetz, Geschichtstheologie, 33, p. 98. 32 Oros. Hist. 2.19.12: En tempora quorum conparatione praesentia ponderantur; en, quibus recordatio suspirat; en, quae incutiunt de electa vel potius de neglecta religione paenitentiam! 2.19.4: Cui cladi audeat quisquam, si potest, aliquos motus huius temporis conparare, quamvis non aeque pendat praeteriti mali fabulam praesentis iniuria!

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the Roman order.33 This all happened thanks to Christianity, according to God’s providence. Thus, just as Orosius used barbarians for his rhetorical purposes, in his narrative God also used barbarians for great purposes. They played a providential role. There is considerable tension in their twofold role as enemies and as potential Christians and Romans (or at least the allies of Romans). As the enemies of Romans, barbarians were God’s punishment for the sins of either Romans in general or specifically pagans or even wretched Christians34 – in Orosius’s argumentation, mainly pagan Romans.35 God allowed the Christian Alaric to act as his instrument and take over the city of Rome.36 Orosius admits that actually it was God who raged in the sack of Rome, humans less (Deum saevisse, homines minus).37 One sign for God’s wrath was a bolt of lightning that struck the Forum with its empty images of the old Roman gods, thereby showing the people why he had sent the Goths against Rome.38 The providential role of barbarians is also seen in Orosius’s explanation of the disasters during the reigns of Christian emperors, as these required some clarification as well: God let the Goths and the Huns arrive in the Empire to chastise the Romans because of their heresies. Catastrophes such as the Roman defeat at Adrianople in 378 were also punishments for heresy, especially Arianism. They were targeted specifically at Emperor Valens, who appropriately died in the battle at Adrianople.39 In his reasoning of divine vengeance and the providential role of barbarians in carrying out this retribution, Orosius followed the Late Antique trend, as many other 33 Oros. Hist. 7.40; 7.43. Halsall, ‘Funny foreigners’, pp. 99–102; Herzog, ‘Orosius’, pp. 316–317. 34 God’s justice: Oros. Hist. 7.1.2; cf. Augustine, Sermon 81.9; De excidio Urbis Romae tractatus 1. See Lacroix, Orose, p.100. 35 Throughout his work, Orosius attributes misfortunes to divine retribution for the sins of pagans: for example Oros. Hist. 7.22: pestilence and the defeat and capture of Valerian in the Persian War were all punishments for Valerian’s persecution of Christians; 7.8: the civil war between Galba, Otho and Vitellius was punishment for the persecution of Christians and the death of the Apostle Peter; 7.9: the destruction of Jerusalem represented punishment for the Jews. Therefore, Orosius (Hist. 2.8; 7.10) implies, people should just blame themselves and especially their own greed – not Christians, the gods, or fate for their miseries. 36 Oros. Hist. 7.37. God did not allow Radagaisus to proceed to Rome because he was pagan. 37 Oros. Hist. 2.19.14: Plane, quod re proditur, et fatendum est: in hac clade praesenti plus Deum saevisse, homines minus, cum, peragendo ipse quod illi non inplevissent, cur eos miserit demonstravit. 38 Oros. Hist. 2.19.14: […] ictu fulminum forum cum imaginibus vanis quae superstitione miserabili vel Deum vel hominem mentiuntur, abiectum est. 39 Oros. Hist. 7.33.10; 7.33.15–19. For the reactions to the demise in Adrianople, see Lenski, ‘Initium mali’, pp.129–168.

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Late Antique Christian writers in their works de providentia also interpreted the events of their day as the manifestation of divine will, and especially as chastisement sent by God. 40 In the twofold providential role of barbarians, their arrival in the Empire also served a missionary purpose. Orosius argues as a side remark that even if barbarians were allowed to enter the Roman Empire only for the reason that the church of Christ would be overwhelmed everywhere in the East and West by the Huns, Sueves, Vandals, Burgunds, and innumerable diverse peoples, even for that reason God’s great mercy would be evident. The spread of knowledge of the Christian truth (agnitionem veritatis) would have already been enough to explain the arrival of barbarians as part of God’s great plan. 41 This spread of Christianity was thus seen as Rome’s salvation. Orosius reasons in a rather mechanical manner that the more Christians there were in the Empire and its environs, the better morals there were (idolatry no longer) and, consequently, the more material to temper God’s wrath. He argues that in the middle of this turmoil, Rome was spared because of Christianity. It was thanks to the Christians that Rome did not face even more atrocious calamities and that God showed mercy on Rome. It was not a given that Rome could continue as an Empire; it was allowed to endure because of Christians and Christian emperors. Thus, Rome’s fate was conditional and depended on its inhabitants’ morals. 42

Conclusions In his Histories, Orosius aimed to challenge the Romanocentric perspective of the past in many ways. In this enterprise, barbarians served different 40 For example, the Carmen de providentia Dei, often attributed to Prosper of Aquitaine (Vigiliae Christianae Suppl. 10, ed. Marcovich); De perversis suae aetatis moribus epistola, sometimes attributed to Claudius Marius Victor (Patrologia Latina 61, col. 969–972); Salvian, De gubernatione Dei; and John Chrysostom’s De fato et providentia (Patrologia Graeca 50, col. 749–774). See Trompf, Early Christian Historiography, pp. 215–231 and Goetz, Geschichtstheologie, pp. 49–70. 41 Oros. Hist. 7.41.8: Quamquam si ob hoc solum barbari Romanis finibus inmissi forent, quod vulgo per orientem et occidentem ecclesiae Christi Hunis Suebis Vandalis et Burgundionibus diversisque innumeris credentium populis replentur, laudanda et adtollenda misericordia Dei videretur, quandoquidem, etsi cum labefactione nostri, tantae gentes agnitionem veritatis acciperent, quam invenire utique nisi hac occasione non possent. 42 Oros. Hist. 7.23.11–13; 7.41.7–8; 7.43.6; Rome’s fate postponed: 2.3.6–7. According to the Four Empire theory, Rome should have been in decline, but because of Christianity, God tempered his judgement, allowed it to continue, and postponed the decline (for example 6.1.27). For a discussion, see Van Nuffelen, Orosius, pp. 20–21, 50–53, 147–152, 188–199 and Adler, ‘Early Christian historians’, p. 597.

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roles. In his move to confront the Romanocentrism of pagan Romans, he nonetheless eventually enhanced it in many ways, first by defining the Roman Empire as unique among the past empires in human history because Christ had chosen to be born precisely there, 43 and second by stating that during the Christiana tempora, the church and Christian inhabitants with their better morals and lack of idolatry made the Roman Empire a special place. Within this scheme, barbarians confirmed Orosius’s argumentation. He made them act as performers in the Christian success story: they undermined Roman superiority, they verified the civilising force of Christianity, and they accomplished the providential plan of God. The traditional role that barbarians had throughout Roman history, which was continued in Late Antiquity, was to aid the Romans: they were the auxiliary forces in the warfare of the Roman elites and they were the auxiliary forces in the narratives and rhetorical battles of the elite writers. Taking them also in this way, Orosius was no exception.

Works cited Adler, William, ‘Early Christian historians and historiography’, in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies, Ed. by Susan Ashbrook Harvey and David G. Hunter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), pp. 584–602. Ambrose of Milan, Political Letters and Speeches, trans. intr. notes by J. H.W.G. Liebeschuetz with the assistance of Carole Hill (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2005). Cameron, Averil, Christianity and the Rhetoric of Empire: The Development of Christian Discourse (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press 1991). Garnsey, Peter, and Caroline Humfress, The Evolution of the Late Antique World (Cambridge: Orchard Academic, 2001). Goetz, Hans-Werner, Die Geschichtstheologie des Orosius, Impulse der Forschung (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1980). Halsall, Guy, ‘Funny Foreigners: Laughing with the Barbarians in Late Antiquity’, in Humour, History and Politics in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, Ed. by Guy Halsall (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), pp. 89–113. Heather, Peter, and John Matthews, The Goths in the Fourth Century (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1991). Herzog, Reinhart, ‘Orosius oder die Formulierung eines Fortschrittskonzepts aus der Erfahrung des Niedergangs’, reprinted in Reinhart Herzog, Spätantike: Studien 43 Oros. Hist. 6.22.6–8; the synchronism between pax Christi and pax Romana: 6.1.7–8.

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zur Römischen und lateinisch-christlichen Literatur (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2002), pp. 293–320. Jacobs, Andrew S., The Remains of the Jews: The Holy Land and Christian Empire in Late Antiquity (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2003). Kahlos, Maijastina, ‘Divine Wrath and Divine Favour: Transformations in Roman thought pattern in Late Antiquity’, in Der Fall Roms und seine Wiederauferstehungen in Antike und Mittelalter, Ed. by Karla Pollmann and Henriette Harich-Schwarzbauer (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2013), pp. 177–193. Kofsky, Aryeh, Eusebius of Caesarea Against Paganism, Jewish and Christian Perspectives Series 3 (Leiden: Brill, 2009). Lacroix, Benoit, Orose et ses idées (Montréal: Université de Montréal, 1965). Lenski, Noel, ‘Initium mali Romano imperio: Contemporary Reactions to the Battle of Adrianople’, Transactions of the American Philological Association 127 (1997), 129–168. McLynn, Neil, ‘Orosius, Jerome and the Goths’, in The Sack of Rome in 410 AD: The Event, Its Context and Its Impact. Proceedings of the Conference Held at the German Archaeological Institute at Rome, 4–6 November 2010, Ed. by Johannes Lipps, Carlos Machado and Philipp von Rummel, Palilia 28 (Wiesbaden: Reichert, 2013), pp. 323–333. Mathisen, Ralph W., ‘Roma a Gothis Alarico duce capta est. Ancient Accounts of the Sack of Rome in 410 CE’, in The Sack of Rome in 410 AD: The Event, Its Context and its Impact. Proceedings of the Conference Held at the German Archaeological Institute at Rome, 4–6 November 2010, Ed. by Johannes Lipps, Carlos Machado, and Philipp von Rummel, Palilia 28 (Wiesbaden: Reichert, 2013), pp. 87–102. Merrills, A.H., History and Geography in Late Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005). Orosius, Seven Books of History Against Pagans, Trans. with an introduction and notes by Andrew T. Fear (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2010). Salzman, Michele, ‘Memory and Meaning. Pagans and 410’, in The Sack of Rome in 410 AD: The Event, Its Context and its Impact. Proceedings of the Conference Held at the German Archaeological Institute at Rome, 4–6 November 2010, Ed. by Johannes Lipps, Carlos Machado, and Philipp von Rummel, Palilia 28 (Wiesbaden: Reichert, 2013), pp. 295–307. Themistius, Themistii Orationes Quae Supersunt, Ed. by Heinrich Schenkl, Glanville Downey, and Albert Francis Norman (Leipzig: Teubner, 1965). Themistius, Politics, Philosophy, and Empire in the Fourth Century: Select Orations of Themistius, Trans. with an introduction by Peter Heather and David Moncur (Liverpool, Liverpool University Press 2001).

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Trompf, Garry W., Early Christian Historiography: Narratives of Retributive Justice (London: Continuum, 2000). Van Nuffelen, Peter, Orosius and the Rhetoric of History (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012).

About the author Maijastina Kahlos has the title of docent at the University of Helsinki and is a visiting fellow at Clare Hall, University of Cambridge (2021-22), and from autumn 2022 onwards a principal researcher at the University of Lisbon. She is the author of Religious Dissent in Late Antiquity, Forbearance and Compulsion: The Rhetoric of Tolerance and Intolerance in Late Antiquity and Debate and Dialogue: Christian and Pagan Cultures, c. 360–430.

6. Prophecies and Omens of the Fall of the Roman Empirein the Chronicle of Hydatius of Lemica Laura Marzo

Abstract This chapter analyses the historical conception, which presents a strong apocalyptical connotation, of the Chronicle of Hydatius of Lemica. Eyewitness to the historical events of his time, Hydatius asserts that the end of the empire ( finis imperii), perceived as imminent, coincides with the end of times ( finis temporum) and the advent of Judgement Day, as the massive presence of prophecies and omens of the break-up of the Roman empire denotes. Particular attention will also be paid to the analysis of the quote of the apocryphal Apocalypse of Thomas, which influenced the catastrophic eschatology of Hydatius and his interpretation of the coeval historical course. Keywords: Hydatius, Chronicle, Iberian peninsula, Latin Historiography, Late Antiquity

In the unsettled socio-political and literary spheres of Late Antiquity, the Chronicle of Hydatius represents reliable and important evidence for the reconstruction of the political and military events that occurred in the Iberian peninsula during the fifth century.1 The Bishop of Aquae Flaviae (present-day Chaves in Portugal)2 pursues the previous historiographical 1 Among the most recent contributions regarded to the Chronicle of Hydatius, see: García, A crónica do bispo Hidacio, pp. 317–358; López Silva, A Crónica de Idacio de Limia; Candelas, O Cronicón de Hidacio; Bernárdez, Idacio Lémico. For philological studies on the Chronicle, see above all: Cardelle De Hartmann, Philogische Studien zur Chronik. 2 For the general biography of Hydatius and for his episcopate, see: Muhlberger, The FifthCentury Chroniclers, pp. 193–266; Vilella, ‘Idacio’, pp. 39–54.

Ubric Rabaneda, P. (ed.), Writing History in Late Antique Iberia: Historiography in Theory and Practice from the Fourth to the Seventh Century. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2022 doi 10.5117/9789463729413_ch06

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works of the ‘holy and very erudite Fathers’ (patres sancti et eruditissimi),3 Eusebius of Caesarea and Jerome, and traces a chronological period that goes from 379 to 468: with a dark stylistic expressionism and a marked pessimistic vein, he makes a detailed report about the salient episodes of the barbarian penetration beyond the Pyrenees, of the violent conflicts between the Sueves and the Goths, and the restless relationship between the barbarian tribes and the native population. 4 In that climate of uncertainty and precariousness, the Galician bishop developed a dramatic awareness of the demise of the empire: after having led an embassy to the general Aetius5, between 431 and 432, and after assuming, thanks to his personal prestige and his episcopal office, the role of political mediator between the claims of the Ibero-Roman communities and the court of Ravenna,6 Hydatius seems to be aware of the weakness of imperial power and the inability of the central authority to stem the barbarian invasions.

The historical-apocalyptic conception of the Chronicle It is not surprising, therefore, that Hydatius’s refined political knowledge, gained from the direct experience of leading diplomatic delegations, corresponds to an articulated historical conception, which, in some respects, presents very interesting elements of novelty. In this regard, Richard W. Burgess7 enthusiastically portrays Hydatius as one of the pioneers of the Latin chronograph genre. The interpretation suggested by the English scholar, however, appears to be overly emphatic: it seems more appropriate to adjust the interpretative tones in order to highlight, with more cautious consideration, some distinctive and particular characteristics of the semantic framework of the Chronicle. Indeed, a careful examination of the work reveals the unusual features of Hydatius’s historiographical vision: while his Chronicle, purports to be in line with the universalistic structure of its 3 Hydatius of Lemica, Continuatio Chronicorum Hieronymianorum ad a. CCCCLXVIII, [hereafter Chron.], Praef., 1. The critical reference edition is: Burgess (ed. and tr. by), The Chronicle of Hydatius and the Consularia Constantinopolitana. The translations of the Chronicle come from this edition. 4 About the salient historical, military and diplomatic episodes narrated in the Chronicle of Hydatius, see above all: Gillett, Envoys and Political Communication, pp. 36–46. 5 Hyd., Chron., 86: ‘As soon as the opportunity presented itself, the Sueves again violated the peace treaty which they had entered into with Gallaeci. Because of their pillaging, the bishop Hydatius undertook the embassy to the dux Aëtius who was conducting a campaign in Gaul’. 6 García Moreno, ‘Élites e Iglesia hispanas’, pp. 239–241. 7 Burgess, The Chronicle of Hydatius, pp. 6–7.

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reference models, Eusebius and Jerome,8 in reality it focuses more on a local reconstruction of the historical events of his time, especially those occurring in his natal region. This datum, which has been interpreted as an important indicator of the gradual transition from universalistic to national historiography,9 is closely connected with the attention – new in the Late Antique world – given by the Bishop of Aquae Flaviae to the diplomatic activity of the Iberian peninsula.10 However, rather than focus on the historiographical differences with Hydatius’s reference models, the purpose of the present chapter is to highlight his personal conception of historical time that hovers in the Chronicon: a strongly Roman-centric, Christian and apocalyptical vision.11 In fact, as Igor Gelarda12 notes, Hydatius perfectly embodies ‘the symbiosis between Romanism and Catholicism’ widely shared by Ibero-Roman elites. At the same time, he is also the mouthpiece of the profound anxieties of his age and his people. The Chronicle seems to reflect, in its historical conceptual setting, that lacerating sense of precariousness, which had to be widely diffused among the Roman-Hispanic groups during the pressing invasions of the barbarians, who, after having crossed the Pyrenees in 409, broke the Iberian political-military balance, changing its appearance forever.13 That historical works are often a mirror of the historical time in which they are composed is certainly not a literary novelty of the ancient world, but, in the Chronicle of Hydatius, what represents a stimulating cue is the almost total coincidence between the ‘end of the empire’ ( finis imperii) and the ‘end of times’ ( finis temporum): according to Hydatius, the end of the political-institutional existence of the Roman Empire coincides with the end of human time. Aware that restoring central power in the Iberian 8 Wieser, ‘The Chronicle of Hydatius’, pp. 11–-12. 9 Sánchez Alonso, Historia de la historiografia Espaňola, pp. 72–74; see also: Molè, Uno storico del V secolo, pp. 153–157. 10 Gillet, Envoys and Political Communication, p. 40; see also: Gelarda, ‘Guerre e diplomazia in Iberia nel Chronicon’, pp. 294–295. 11 The Roman-centric vision is a peculiar characteristic of the Christian historiography even in the models of Hydatius: in this regard, Malcolm Donalson, in his study of Jerome’s text, traces this Roman-centrism to Eusebius’s and Jerome’s notions of their chronicle ‘as a “Christian Roman history,” whose author is at once both Christian and Roman’. See: Donalson, A Translation of Jerome’s Chronicon, p. 16. 12 Gelarda, ‘Guerre e diplomazia in Iberia nel Chronicon’, p. 295. 13 Among the numerous studies on the political-military situation of Spain in the fifth century and on the barbarian invasions in the Iberian peninsula, see: Martín, La península en la Edad Media; Mitre, La España Medieval; Carr, Vandals to Visigoths; Arce, ‘Los Vàndalos en Hispania (409–429 A.D.)’, pp. 97–104.

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peninsula and seeing the triumph of Roman society were impossible, the Bishop of Aquae Flaviae seems to arrive at the conviction that his world had come to an inexorable conclusion and that Judgement Day was nigh. This conviction flutters throughout the Chronicle, which, as Giuseppe Zecchini14 highlights, is pervaded by a pessimistic and nostalgic historical vision of ‘what had been on the political level’ and which, instead, had come to an end in that ‘wretched age’ (miserum tempus). The coincidence between the ‘end of the empire’ ( finis imperii) and the ‘end of times’ ( finis temporum) and the bitter awareness of both the decline of empire (occasus imperii) and the proximity of the end of the world are declared by Hydatius in the concluding paragraph of the preface, which constitutes the fundamental starting point for a punctual reading of his historical thought: Non ignarus omnium miserabilis temporis aerumnarum, et conclusi in angustias imperii Romani metas subdidimus ruituras et, quod est luctuosius, intra extremam universi orbis Galleciam deformem ecclesiastici ordinis statum creationibus indiscretis, honestae libertatis interitum et universe propemodum in divina disciplina religionis occasum ex furentium dominatione permixta iniquarum perturbatione nationum.15

Firstly, this passage deserves a lexical consideration: Hydatius uses terms with a strong negative meaning, semantically connected with the ‘end of times’ ( finis temporum) and the ‘dissolution of the world’ (consummatio mundi). Such lexical choices, which frame an irreversible scenario of historical devastation and moral decay clearly heralds the ‘end of the empire’ (finis imperii) and are a clear warning of the imminent fall of the Western Roman Empire (which Hydatius vaticinated, but did not personally see, as he died before the deposition of Romulus Augustulus).16 In the above-mentioned passage, the author explicitly links the dissolution of the world/Empire to 14 Zecchini, Ricerche di storiografia, pp. 230–233. 15 Hyd., Chron., Praef., 6: ‘Not unknowing of all the calamities of this wretched age, I have enjoined [an account of] the frontiers of the narrowly confined Roman empire that are doomed to perish, and, what is more lamentable, [an account of events] within Gallaecia at the edge of the entire world: the state of ecclesiastical succession perverted by indiscriminate appointments, the demise of honorable freedom, and the downfall of virtually of all religion based on divine instruction, all a result of the domination of heretics confounded with the disruption of hostile [barbarian] tribes’. 16 Although the date of death of the Bishop of Chaves is not certain, the last year of the Chronicle’s historical narrative is 468; consequently, it is highly probable that Hydatius died between the end of 468 and 471; see: Tranoy, Hydace. Chronique, p. 16; Gelarda, ‘Guerre e diplomazia in Iberia nel Chronicon’, p. 297.

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the climax of an era of ethical misfortunes and atrocities in which he lives: the corruption of the ecclesiastical hierarchy, the loss of liberties and the disappearance of religion (note here that the author of the Chronicon uses the semantically more incisive and negative noun, such as occasus, which means ‘decline, death’). Presenting a historical and moral context that was so compromised and impious, Hydatius identifies its causes in two factors that are considered to be contingent and synchronic, namely, the affirmation of heretical currents, which were responsible for the moral and religious decadence, and the violent invasions of the barbarian tribes, which caused the socio-political decline of his time.

The influence of the apocryphal Apocalypse of Thomas In addition to a contemporary, objectively changing and bloody historical situation, another datum must have consistently influenced the formulation of the tragic historical perspective of Hydatius: it was, as Burgess17 pointed out, the reading of the apocryphal Apocalypse, written in the form of a letter from Christ to the Apostle Thomas, the Revelatio Thomae.18 The actual knowledge of this apocryphal source by the author of the Chronicon is testif ied to by a note written in the margin (opposite the eighteenth year of Tiberius, the year of crucif ixion), present in the codex optimus (Berlin, Deutsche Staatsbibliothek, Phillipps 1829, ca. 830), which states: In libro quodam [apocrifo] Thomae apostoli scriptum est dominum Iesum ad eum dixisse ab ascensu suo ad celum usque in secundum adventum eius novem iuboleos contineri quos ab hoc loco qui legis distinctos per annos invenies quinquagenos. Quinquaginta enim anni unius summa est iobolei.19

The quotation of this portion of the text of the apocryphal Apocalypse of Thomas seems to confirm the conviction of the Galician bishop, according 17 Burgess, The Chronicle of Hydatius, pp. 31–32. 18 The complex reconstruction of the transmission of Revelatio Thomae (and of the different versions in which it came) is exposed with accuracy by a recent essay written by Charles Wright, ‘Vercelli Homily XV and The Apocalypse of Thomas’, pp. 151–184. About the text of the apocryphal Apocalypse, see: Bihlmeyer, ‘Un texte non interpolé de l’Apocalypse de Thomas’, pp. 270–282. 19 This interpolation appears in Fotheringham’s apparatus: Fotheringham, The Bodleian Manuscript of Jerome’s Version of the Chronicle, p. 256 and it is slightly corrected by Burgess, The Chronicle of Hydatius, p. 32.

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to which the instability and violence of his age inevitably foreshadow the Parousia of Christ and the dissolution of the world (consummatio mundi): in accordance with Burgess,20 it is then possible to hypothesise that Hydatius, already during the composition of the Chronicon, was not only persuaded of the proximity of the end of the world, but, on the basis of the chronological references contained in Revelatio Thomae and cited within the codex optimus, could also date it with exactitude to Easter of 482 A.D. (the ninth Jubilee after Christ’s Ascension).21 The allusion to this dating can also be directly linked to a stylistic peculiarity of the Chronicon, considering that Hydatius himself adopts a mixed chronological system and adds references to the Jubilees both in his text and in the Chronici Canones, of which he is a prosecutor. In support of the hypothesis of the influence of the apocryphal text on Hydatius’s thought, there are some remarkable lexical correspondences between the two texts: firstly, in the second clause of the fragment 40r (Bihlmeyer) of the Apocalypse of Thomas, the author claims, with a stylistic and syntactic imprint that turns out to be very similar to the Chronicon, to have witnessed some fatal ‘signs’ (signa) that would have predicted the end of the world: Audi a me signa quae futura quae futura sunt in fine huius saeculi, quando implebitur finis saeculi et antequam exeant electi de saeculo.22 Afterwards, terrible calamities are announced, such as famine and pestilence, which resound as a warning about the misery that humanity will have to suffer (and that Hydatius will quote in his apocalyptic verdict). Finally, the apocryphal Apocalypse is articulated in the eschatological narration of portentous natural phenomena and supernatural presences descended from above in seven days; at the end of the description of each day, the following anaphora is recorded: Ista sunt signa (primae/secundae/ terciae/ and so on) diei.23 This expression also occurs in the Chronicle: Hydatius often uses the plural noun signa (‘signs’), or synonymic terms such as prodigia or portenta (‘prodigies’), and, when he describes these nefarious phenomena, he adopts a syntactic structure similar to the sentences of the apocryphal Apocalypse of Thomas, mentioning the circumstances and the days in which these fearsome and inauspicious signs would have been 20 Burgess, The Chronicle of Hydatius, p. 31. 21 About the exactitude of the date of Easter in the West in 482, see: Grumel, Traité d’études byzantines, p. 244; Irshai, ‘Dating the Eschaton’, pp. 149–150. 22 This paper mentions the edition of the short recension of the Apocalypse of Thomas that is taken from: Bihlmeyer, ‘Un texte non interpolé’, pp. 272–274. 23 Rev. Thomae, 16–17; 22–23; 28–29; 33; 39; 71; 76–77 (Bihlmeyer, ‘Un texte non interpolé’, pp. 274–276).

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sighted.24 Considering, moreover, the interpretative semantic level, the two eschatological texts present clear analogies, which confirm the undisputed pre-eminence of the ‘end of the century’ ( finis saeculi) and the proximity of Judgement Day. These considerations, which support the centrality of the ‘end of times’ ( finis temporum) in the historical conception of the Bishop of Aquae Flaviae, make it easier to understand both the attitude of bitter disillusionment and desolate pessimism that emerges as a leitmotif of the Chronicle and the massive presence of apocalyptic prophecies and omens that are harbingers of misfortune. Embracing the established Christian tradition,25 for which Parousia is the final event of the catastrophic end of the world, heralded by many warning signs,26 Hydatius enumerates famines, pestilences, and acts of anthropophagy that evoke the four plagues of Ezekiel against the idolatrous people27 and he heralds the destruction of mankind and the advent of Judgement Day: Fames dira crassatur, adeo ut humanae carnes ab humano genere vi famis fuerint devoratae; matres quoque necatis vel coctis per se natorum suorum sint paste corporibus; bestie, occisorum gladio, fame, pestilentia, cadaveribus adsuaetae, quosque hominum fortiores interimunt eorumque carnibus paste passim in humani generis efferantur interitum. Et ita quatuor plagis ferri, famis, pestilantiae, bestiarum ibique in toto orbe saevientibus, praedictae a Domino per prophetas suos annuntiationes implentur.28

The placement of this apocalyptic verdict within the text of the Chronicon is highly significant, since Hydatius writes this atrocious warning after having narrated, in relation to the year 409, the first invasions of Alans, Vandals, and Sueves in the Iberian peninsula and, in the following year, the 24 See, for example: Hyd., Chron., 143: Multa anno signa procedunt; Hyd., Chron., 209: In provincia Gallecia prodigiorum videntur signa diversa; Hyd., Chron., 247: Signa etiam aliquanta et prodigia in locis Galleciae pervidentur. 25 See in particular: Mc. 13. 26 Vorgrimler, Nuovo Dizionario Teologico, p. 503. 27 Ez. 14, 21. 28 Hyd., Chron., 40: ‘A famine ran riot, so dire that driven by hunger human beings devoured human flesh; mothers too feasted upon the bodies of their own children whom they had killed and cooked with their own hands; wild beasts, habituated to feeling on the bodies of those slain by sword, famine, or pestilence, killed all the braver individuals and feasting on their flesh everywhere became brutally set upon the destruction of the human race. And thus with the four plagues of sword, famine, pestilence and wild beasts raging everywhere throughout the world, the annunciations foretold by Lord through his prophets came to fulfillment’.

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plunder of Rome by Alaric, with the subsequent capture of the empress Galla Placidia.29 Moreover, even during the chronograph narration, the Bishop of Aquae Flaviae makes incessant recourse to terrible natural omens: precisely in the year of the death of Galla Placidia, in 451, he asserts that there were repeated earthquakes in Gallaecia and that, on the night of 4 April, the sky would have been dyed red ‘like fire or blood’ (sicut ignis aut sanguis), with brighter streaks in the shape of red glowing spears.30

Inauspicious omens in the history of the Roman Empire Some of the numerous deadly omens described minutely in the Chronicle deserve more careful reflection, since some of them are chronologically connected to salient historical events,31 interlacing real and supernatural events. The conspicuous number of portents narrated on the occasion of the death of the empress Galla Placidia is very interesting and in contrast to the absence of nefarious signs in conjunction with the murder of the son of Augusta, Valentinian III. In order to explain this apparent incongruity, it is necessary to focus on the historical-political position of Hydatius: as the scholars Zecchini32 and Molè Ventura33 noted, the Roman-centric conception of Iberian elites equated loyalty to Rome with loyalty to the Theodosides, an attitude that is constitutive of the mindset of the Galician bishop and that is palpable in the whole semantic frame of the Chronicle. However, according to Hydatius, a loyal attitude does not imply a passive acceptance of the political-historical course of the summit powers of the Roman Empire: on the contrary, on the one hand, he openly and critically manifests his perplexity regarding the inconclusive military policy adopted by Valentinian III in Spain;34 on the other, following the death of the last of the Theodosides, he expresses sorrow more for the end of the imperial dynasty,35 and for the imperial proclamation of Avitus,36 than for the 29 Hyd., Chron., 34–36. 30 Hyd., Chron., 141. 31 Wieser, The chronicle of Hydatius, pp. 14–15. 32 Zecchini, Ricerche di storiografia, p. 230. 33 Molè, Uno storico del V secolo, p. 54 34 About the military policy of Valentinian III, see: Zecchini, Aezio, pp. 174–176. 35 Gelarda, ‘Guerre e diplomazia nel Chronicon’, p. 298; see also: Tranoy, Hydace. Chronique, pp. 59–60. 36 The contempt of Hydatius towards the emperor Avitus, proclaimed Augustus by the will of the Goths, is evident: it is enough to remember that Hydatius does not insert his name in the

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departure of Valentinian III. Considering this datum, it is legitimate to hypothesise that Hydatius deemed Galla Placidia the last eminent exponent of the Theodosian dynasty, above all for her open support for Catholicism and for her unitary vision of the Roman empire:37 this supposition would motivate both the high number of nefarious omens registered in Gallaecia in the year 451 (in relation to the death of Galla Placidia) and Hydatius’s laconic silence, full of political regret, for the year 455 (when the murder of Valentinian III occurred).38 Another relevant historical episode is the pillaging of the Galician city of Bracara in 456, carried out by the king of the Goths, Theodoric II,39 with the approval of Emperor Avitus. Hydatius reports the raid of Bracara in great detail, emphasising how, although it was accomplished without bloodshed, it was a sacrilegious act: the Christian basilicas were taken by assault, the sacred altars were destroyed, the virgins of the city were kidnapped, the exponents of the clergy were humiliated with public denudation and all citizens – including children – who had sought refuge in the sanctuaries, were deported from the sacred places, which were violated and used as stables for cattle. 40 At the end of this description, the judgement expressed by the Bishop of Chaves resounds like a forewarning about the divine wrath: scripta super Hierusalem ex parte caelestis irae renovavit exempla.41 Making explicit mention of the ‘celestial wrath’ (ira caelestis) against Jerusalem and, consequently, an implicit reference to the passages of the Holy Scriptures, 42 Hydatius provides an interesting eschatological key to interpreting the pillage of Bracara, which, on the one hand, seems to recall the scenario of moral and religious corruption portrayed in the preface; on the other hand, it seems to prelude again, through a theological interpretation of the historical datum, Judgement Day and the Parousia. Once again, the Galician bishop manifests a dramatic awareness of the end of his world, through the coincidence of the ‘end of the empire’ ( finis imperii) and the numbering of the emperors and, in his Chronicle, passes from the 41st emperor Theodosius II to his successor Marcianus. 37 For the imperial regency of Galla Placidia and her policy of supporting the Church of Rome, see: Sirago, Galla Placidia, pp. 60–61. 38 Hyd., Chron., 157: Usque ad Valentinianum Theodosii generatio tenuit principatum. 39 It should be pointed out that the text of the Chronicle indicates that Theodoricus rex Gothorum is responsible for the sacking of Bracara; however, for obvious chronological reasons, this cannot be Theodoric the Great, but rather the king of the Visigoths Theodoric II, in charge from 453 to 466. 40 Hyd., Chron., 167. 41 Ibid. 42 Above all: 2 Re 23–26; Ez. 11,1–12; 23; 24, 1–14.

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‘end of times’ ( finis temporum). The tragic epilogue, which represents the crowning achievement of the historical-Christian vision of Hydatius, is an inevitable escalation of pillages by barbarians, impious murderers, palace intrigues, and political betrayals, which, from a stylistic point of view, and in the narrative structure of the Chronicon, are linked to an increase of ever more bloody and catastrophic prophecies. 43 This stylistic datum deserves careful reflection: although the Chronicon is littered with numerous omens, the first part of the text narrates mainly portentous phenomena of natural origin, especially eclipses, 44 comets, 45 and earthquakes; 46 only in the second part of the work, which covers a brief chronological span ranging from 456 to 468, the prodigies take gloomy and bloody tints. As the French scholar Tranoy47 pointed out, in the narration of the Chronicle, from the year 456 onwards, there is a notable increase in anecdotes of a markedly dramatic nature, whose presence is directly connected to a changed historical situation. Starting from the year 455, in fact, the policy of territorial expansion perpetrated by the Visigoths in Spain became more aggressive and less opposed by the central imperial authority, whose interventions became increasingly rare; in addition, within Gallaecia, Arianism became widespread, further fragmenting the precarious orthodox unity previously threatened by Priscillianism. 48 Therefore, the year 456 seems to be a turning point in Hydatius’s thought, since he elaborates a profound feeling of distressing discomfort that he pours into the conceptual formulation of the fall of the Roman Empire: by now, the tenuous hopes of the defence of the romanitas are broken, leaving only a conviction that the ‘end of times’ ( finis temporum) is approaching. There are numerous terrifying forewarnings that portend the advent of the Apocalypse: in 462, for example, Hydatius gives news of the destruction of Antiochia maior, which, failing to heed the divine warnings for its own salvation, would have sunk beneath the ground: the only survivors would have been the bishop of the city and a number of the faithful (obaudientes timori Domini).49 In March of the same year, in Gallaecia, a full blood 43 About the catastrophism of the thought of Hydatius, see: Arce, El catastrofismo de Hidacio, pp. 219–229; Bodelón, ‘Idacio: prodigios y providencialismo’, pp. 117–132. 44 Hyd., Chron., 56: Solis facta defectio die XIIII kal. Aug., qui fuit quinta feria. 45 Ibid., 118: Cometae sidus apparere incipit mense Decembri. 46 Ibid., 58; 141; 151. 47 Tranoy, Hydace. Chronique, p. 60. 48 Ibid., pp. 16, 60. 49 Hyd., Chron., 210.

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moon would be sighted;50 in June, lightning would set fire to the villas and burned live flocks, while scraps of human flesh would rain from the sky along with the rain.51 Finally, in the midst of the hostilities between the Sueves and the Visigoths, in the middle of the city of Toulouse, a jet of blood would explode from the ground and gush for a whole day.52 It also cannot be ignored that the Chronicle concludes with the description of other ominous prodigia seen in Gallaecia, so numerous that, according to Hydatius, it would be lengthy to remember them:53 it appears highly significant that the final image of the historiographical work is not entrusted to the story of war events, but to those multiple warning signs which, in line with eschatological interpretations,54 announced the proximity of the dissolution of the entire world (consummatio mundi). From a literary perspective, the centrality assumed by prodigia in the work of Hydatius is reminiscent of the thought of Livy:55 the story of the sighting of anomalous natural phenomena that have a strong connection with the course of human affairs is of great importance in the Livian historiographical narrative. Various passages of the Paduan historian’s monumental Ab urbe condita56 emphasise the importance of reporting those prodigious events that the indifferent common people used to ignore.57 Due to the lack of testimony it is not possible to assert that the Galician bishop directly consulted the Livian work; however, it is important to note that prodigia, by virtue of their divine origin, play a similarly pre-eminent position in the historiography works of both Livy and Hydatius, although they are treated and fathomed from two opposing perspectives, one pagan and the other providential. 50 Ibid., 209: In provincia Gallaecia prodigiorum videntur signa diversa. Aera D, VI nonas Martias pullorum cantu, ab occasu solis luna in sanguinem plena convertitur. 51 Hyd., Chron., 213. About the symbolic meaning of the bloody rain, see: Dutton, ‘Observations on Early Medieval Weather in General, Bloody Rain in Particular’, pp. 167–180. 52 Hyd., Chron., 238. 53 Ibid., 247. 54 Giunta, La coesistenza nel Medioevo, p. 29. 55 Tranoy, Hydace. Chronique, pp. 56–57. 56 Among the numerous passages containing the description of omens in the Livian historiographical work, those most similar to the prodigia narrated by Hydatius are the following: the lightning striking the temples, the sight of bloody ears of corn, the sighting of two suns, and the presence of light during the night hours in Tit. Livius, Ab Urbe condita, liber XXVIII, XI; the sight of the burning sky and a shower of blood in Tit. Livius, Ab Urbe condita, liber XLIII, XIII. 57 Tit. Livius, Ab Urbe condita, liber XLIII, XII: Non sum nescius ad eadem neclegentia, qua nihil deos portendere vulgo nun credant, neque nuntiari admodum ulla prodigia in publicum neque in annales referri.

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Conclusions In light of the topics analysed up to now, it is possible to draw some conclusions on the conceptual value of the coincidence between the ‘end of the empire’ ( finis imperii) and the ‘end of times’ ( finis temporum): it can be noted that Hydatius, even though he offers a local historiographical reconstruction, universalises his apocalyptic message. Indeed, the modern reader has the strong perception that, while the properly historiographic narrative relates in great detail to Hispanic military and diplomatic episodes, the prophecies and the warnings about divine punishment and the arrival of Judgement Day are addressed to all the ‘unfaithful’ (infedeles), in a tragic prediction universally valid for all citizens of the Empire. With high probability, both the reading of the Revelatio Thomae and the propagation of the heretical currents and the resurgent forms of paganism in the Iberian peninsula58 could have influenced and contributed to the construction of the apocalyptic vision of the Galician bishop. Moreover, even recourse to the prophecy of the four plagues of Ezekiel and to the numerous inauspicious omens can be read as a literarily expedient, for confessional purposes,59 to confirm the universal announcement of the end of the world. Ultimately, it is clear that the cornerstone of Hydatius’s historical Christian thought is his personal observation of the degeneration of the times, which constitutes the hyphen between historical and religious, real and supernatural elements: from the chronicle of Suevic raids, Gothic depredations, and the sufferings experienced by the local population, leaked the Galician bishop’s resignation and bitterness, caused by the witnessing of the partition of Iberian territory, in the face of weakening central Roman power. Even the presence of the omens appears to be functional to the historical conception formulated by Hydatius and to his perspective centred on the empire:60 in a providential key, as previously illustrated, prodigia are intimately connected to the historical events and they are recorded by the author with greater frequency when historical events – that were very significant, especially for the Iberian peninsula – took place. From this perspective, the Chronicon appears as a precious Latin testimony, which announces the end of its time: if the contemporary reader considers the ‘end of times’ ( finis temporum) not as a disappearance of a 58 Vilella and Maymó, ‘Religion and Policy’, pp. 193–236. 59 Regarding the confessional motivations of the Chronicon and the nefarious prophecies described in the work, see: Lizzi, ‘I vescovi, i Barbari e l’impero di Roma’, p. 39. 60 Cracco, ‘Universalità e campanilismo’, p. 180.

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civilisation, but as a conclusion of both the geopolitical balance and the identity values of the classical conception (primarily the sense of belonging to Roman society and the centrality of imperial power), the Chronicle reveals the Late Antique climate, characterised by anxieties and profound transformations, in the delicate phase of transition towards the imminent advent of the Visigothic kingdom.

Works cited Arce, Javier, ‘El catastrofismo de Hidacio y los camellos de la Galecia’, in Los últimos romanos en Lusitania, ed. by Agustín Velázquez Jiménez, ‎ Enrique Cerrillo, and ‎ Pedro Mateos Cruz (Mérida: Museo Nacional de Arte Romano, 1995), pp. 219–229. Arce, Javier, ‘Los Vándalos en Hispania (409–429 A.D.): Impacto, actividades, identidad’, in Das Reich der Vandalen und sein (Vor-)Geschichten, ed. by Guido M. Berndt, and Roland Steinacher (Wien: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2008), pp. 97–104. Bernárdez Vilar, Xoán, Idacio Lémico. Chronica (379–469) (Santiago de Compostela: Xunta de Galicia, 2004). Bihlmeyer, D.P., ‘Un texte non interpolé de l’Apocalypse de Thomas’, Revue Bénédictine 28 (1911), 270–282. Bodelón García, Serafìn, ‘Idacio. Prodigios y providencialismo en su Crónica’, Memorias de historia antigua 17 (1996), 117–132. Burgess, Richard W. (ed. And tr. by), The Chronicle of Hydatius and the Consularia Constantinopolitana: Two Contemporary Accounts of the Final Years of the Roman Empire (Oxford: Oxford Classical Monographs, 1993). Candelas Colodrón, César, O Cronicón de Hidacio. Bispo de Chaves (Noia: Editorial Toxosoutos, 2004). Cardelle De Hartmann, Carmen, Philogische Studien zur Chronik des Hydatius von Chaves (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1994). Carr, Karen E., Vandals to Visigoths: Rural Settlement Patterns in Early Medieval Spain (Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press, 2004). Cracco Ruggini, Lellia, ‘Universalità e campanilismo, centro e periferia, città e deserto nelle storie ecclesiastiche’, in AA.VV., La storiografia ecclesiastica nella tarda antichità. Atti del Convegno tenuto in Erice (3–8 XII 1978) (Messina: Centro di Studi Umanistici, 1980), pp.159–164. Donalson, Malcom D., A Translation of Jerome’s Chronicon With Historical Commentary (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 1996). Dutton, Paul, ‘Observations on Early Medieval Weather in General, Bloody Rain in Particular’, in The Long Morning of Medieval Europe: New Directions in Early

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Medieval Studies, ed. by Jennifer R. Davis, and Michael McCormick (New York: Routledge, 2008), pp. 167–180. Fotheringham, John K., The Bodleian Manuscript of Jerome’s Version of the Chronicle of Eusebius (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1905). García Moreno, Luis Agustín, ‘Élites e Iglesia hispanas en la transición del Imperio Romano al reino Visigodo’, in La conversión de Roma. Cristianismo y paganismo, ed. by José María Candau, Fernando Gascó, and Antonio Ramírez de Verger (Madrid: Ediciones Clásicas, 1990), pp. 223–258. García Penas, Fernando, ‘A crónica do bispo Hidacio’, Compostellanum 48 (2003), 317–358. Gelarda, Igor, ‘Guerre e diplomazia in Iberia nel Chronicon del vescovo Idazio’, ὅρμος I (2008/2009), 294–306. Gillet, Andrew, Envoys and Political Communication in the Late Antique West (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003). Giunta, Francesco, La coesistenza nel Medioevo. Ricerche storiche (Bari: Dedalo Libri, 1968). Grumel, Venance, Traité d’études byzantines. La cronologie (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1958), I. Irshai, Oded, ‘Dating the Eschaton: Jewish and Christian Apocalyptic Calculations in Late Antiquity’, in Apocalyptic Time, ed. by Albert J. Baumgarten (Leiden: Brill, 2000), pp. 113–153. Lizzi Testa, Rita, ‘I vescovi, i Barbari e l’impero di Roma’, in Potere e politica nell’età della famiglia teodosiana (395–455). I linguaggi dell’impero, le identità dei Barbari, ed. by Isabella Baldini, and Salvatore Cosentino (Bari: Edipuglia, 2013), pp. 27–50. López Silva, José Antonio, A Crónica de Idacio de Limia, bispo de Chaves (Deputación Provincial de Ourense: Civitas Limicorum, 2004). Martín, José Luis, La península en la Edad Media (Barcelona: Editorial Teide, 1976). Mitre Fernández, Emilio, La España Medieval. Sociedades, Estados, Culturas (Madrid: Istmo, 1988). Molè Ventura, Concetta, Uno storico del V secolo. Il vescovo Idazio (Catania: Tip. dell’Università, 1978). Muhlberger, Steven, The Fifth-Century Chroniclers: Prosper, Hydatius and the Gallic Chronicle of 452 (Leeds: Francis Cairns, 1990). Sánchez Alonso, Benito, Historia de la historiografía Española (Madrid: Consejo superior de investigaciones cientificas, 1947). Sirago, Vito A., Galla Placidia. La nobilissima (Milano: Jaca Book,1996; rist. 2017). Tranoy, Alain, Hydace. Chronique. Introduction, texte critique, traduction, commentaire et index, 2 vols. (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1974). Vilella Masana, Josep, ‘Idacio, un cronista de su tempo’, Compostellanum, 44 (1999), 39–54.

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Vilella Masana, Josep and Maymó i Capdevila, Pere, ‘Religion and Policy in the Coexistence of Romans and Barbarians in Hispania (409–589)’, Romanobarbarica 17 (2000/2002), 193–236. Vorgrimler, Herbert, Nuovo Dizionario Teologico, transl. and ed. By L. Marinconz (Bologna: EDB, 2004). Wieser, Veronika, ‘The Chronicle of Hydatius: A Historical Guidebook to the Last Days of the Western Roman Empire’, in Apocalypse and Reform from Late Antiquity to the Middle Ages, ed. by Matthew Gabriele, and James T. Palmer (New York: Routledge, 2018), pp. 11–30. Wright, Charles D., ‘Vercelli Homily XV and The Apocalypse of Thomas’, in New Readings in the Vercelli Book, ed. by Samantha Zacher, and Andy Orchard (Toronto: Toronto University Press, 2009), pp. 151–184. Zecchini, Giuseppe, Aezio. L’ultima difesa dell’Occidente romano (Roma: L’Erma di Bretschneider, 1983). Zecchini, Giuseppe, Ricerche di storiografia latina tardoantica (Roma: L’Erma di Bretschneider, 1993).

About the author Laura Marzo is a PhD in Ancient History, specialised in History of Early Christianity. Authoress and editor of different school volumes, she deals with Latin Christian historiography of the late antique period. Currently, she works as a teacher of Latin language and literature at a high school in Rome.

7.

La dimensión política de los historiadores del reino visigodo de Toledo Francisco Salvador Ventura

Abstract In the Visigothic Kingdom of Toledo, there are three ways of talking about the past: the chronicles, the lives of illustrious men, and national histories. The objective of this contribution is to make a journey through the period, which begins with the chronicler John of Biclar and ends with the historian Julian of Toledo, to verify the marked influence that the political context exerts on the contents of the works of these authors. In addition, and above all, such historical discourses contribute to the strengthening of this new political reality, appreciating a growing commitment on the part of those prelates who write about a past closer and closer to the present. Keywords: chronicles, lives of illustrious men, national histories, Visigothic policy

[…] pero, después que el príncipe Sisebuto tomó el cetro del reino, alcanzaron tan alto grado de esplendor que llegan con la presencia de sus armas no sólo a las tierras, sino al propio mar, y el soldado romano, sometido, les sirve y ve que les sirven tantos pueblos y la propia España. Isidoro de Sevilla, Historia de los Godos1

1 Isidoro de Sevilla, Historia de los Godos 70, en Rodríguez, Las historias de los Godos, pp. 286–287. Las traducciones al castellano de todas las obras citadas proceden de las ediciones referenciadas en la bibliografía del capítulo.

Ubric Rabaneda, P. (ed.), Writing History in Late Antique Iberia: Historiography in Theory and Practice from the Fourth to the Seventh Century. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2022 doi 10.5117/9789463729413_ch07

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Introducción. Historiografía tardoantigua y reino hispano-visigodo Se tiene cierta tendencia a establecer una clara línea divisoria entre la historiografía del Mundo Clásico y la elaborada durante la Antigüedad Tardía, por responder la génesis de esta última a una matriz de signo netamente cristiano. Una observación más atenta de los escritos históricos tardoantiguos descubre que, más bien al contrario, el panorama no es tan contrapuesto como en principio se suele dar por sentado.2 Con rapidez se advierte que existe una reconocible continuidad en su tipología, algo que no es contradictorio con la incorporación de los recursos necesarios para su inserción dentro de un nuevo universo religioso, cultural y por extensión también político, articulado en torno al cristianismo, la nueva religión triunfante. Al igual que ocurría en la historiografía grecorromana, el perfil de quienes elaboran los textos históricos sigue siendo el de personajes ubicados en la primera línea de la actividad pública, protagonistas directos o indirectos de los acontecimientos más relevantes, y la finalidad de su escritura resulta del entrecruzamiento de vectores dispares, como son, entre otros, la declarada intencionalidad ejemplarizante, abiertamente teñida de contenido apologético, y una innegable dimensión política, no siempre evidente a primera vista. Estos rasgos generales de la primera historiografía cristiana se encuentran también presentes en el periodo último de la Antigüedad Tardía, el correspondiente a los jóvenes reinos romano-germánicos, si bien las novedades que aparecen en los primeros tiempos tienden a profundizarse progresiva e insensiblemente. El caso del que se ocupa este trabajo está vinculado con el territorio concreto de Hispania, solar en el que, tras los convulsos años del siglo V y, sobre todo, de los dos primeros tercios del siglo VI parece haberse instalado finalmente la estabilidad, después de los éxitos obtenidos por el gran soberano Leovigildo con su política de reforzamiento del poder de la monarquía y de consecución de la unificación territorial.3 El fortalecimiento del reino visigodo llega a su culminación con la conversión al catolicismo de su hijo y sucesor Recaredo, acompañado por la mayor parte de la aristocracia goda, en el trascendental Concilio III de Toledo del año 589. 4 En esta asamblea se elimina la barrera previa de los diferentes credos 2 Croke, ‘Latin Historiography’, pp. 349–391; Young, Frances, ‘Classical genres in Christian guise’, pp. 251–258; Liebeschuetz, Decline and Change in Late Antiquity; Adler, ‘Early Christian Historians’, pp. 584–602. 3 García Moreno, Leovigildo. 4 De la entidad y signif icación de esta asamblea conciliar dan clara muestra los trabajos presentados en un congreso internacional celebrado en Toledo el año 1989 con motivo de su XIV Centenario, publicados en AAVV, XIV Centenario del Concilio III de Toledo (589–1989).

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religiosos en aras de alcanzar una auténtica integración de la minoritaria población visigoda con la mayoría hispanorromana católica, organizada a través de sus iglesias y representada por la jerarquía episcopal. A partir de ese momento, queda instaurado sin grandes fisuras el llamado reino hispano-visigodo de Toledo, por establecer su centro neurálgico en esta ciudad del valle del Tajo, situada dentro del territorio peninsular en una posición geográfica bastante central, circunstancia de relevancia simbólica no menor. Los múltiples conflictos que habían conducido a comprometerse con esta solución satisfactoria para todos, especialmente para la población católica, se explicitan en toda una serie de protocolos de colaboración entre la monarquía y la iglesia, que se hacen efectivos a partir de esa reunión conciliar y que más adelante tendrán como uno de sus hitos principales la celebración del Concilio IV de Toledo (633), presidido por un anciano y respetado arzobispo de Hispalis, Isidoro de Sevilla.5 El reino hispano-visigodo de Toledo nacido en este contexto gozará de una vida menos duradera de la que hacía presagiar la fortaleza surgida de los compromisos conseguidos. Teniendo como punto de partida la fecha de 589 y como final el año 711, año de la batalla de Guadalete y la consiguiente invasión musulmana, su periplo se extiende durante un periodo que abarca poco más de un siglo. Dentro de esa etapa compone sus escritos una serie de historiadores, quienes, como no podría ser de otro modo, desarrollan su labor en diálogo directo con su tiempo, algo que les hace ineludiblemente, y en diversa medida, contribuir a la consolidación y perduración de ese proyecto político recién construido. Todos ellos son protagonistas de su tiempo, por el hecho de estar emplazados en la posición de dirigentes de sus respectivas iglesias, y con sus escritos se erigen como agentes significados de esa entente de intereses entre monarquía e iglesia que, partiendo del final de los conflictos, se proyectará hacia el futuro, de manera que a la vez que dirigen sus iglesias están haciendo (in)disimuladamente política. Del grupo de historiadores hispano-visigodos destaca con claridad la figura omnipresente en su tiempo del influyente obispo Isidoro de Sevilla,6 en cuya prolija y variada obra se halla representada una gran parte de los subgéneros historiográficos del momento. No obstante, no es el único historiador del periodo, sino que existen otros destacados representantes que escriben también sus obras según los parámetros preponderantes entre los historiadores de su época, la de los reinos romano-germánicos. De este modo, se comprobará en adelante cómo se encuentran muestras significativas 5 Castellanos, ‘Isidoro de Sevilla’, pp. 519–531. 6 Fontaine, Isidore de Séville; idem, Isidoro de Sevilla.

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de diferente tipología: de la anterior historia universal con el ya extendido formato de crónica histórica, de las biografías cada vez más próximas al modelo hagiográfico con las vidas de hombres destacados y del más novedoso subgénero que suele ser denominado con el nombre genérico de historias nacionales. A abordar estos ejemplos se dedica el presente trabajo, con el objetivo de destacar cómo ellos en sus distintas variantes contribuyen de forma manifiesta e influyente al fortalecimiento de un proyecto político decantado tras numerosos conflictos, el reino hispano-visigodo de Toledo.

La Historia Universal como Crónica: Juan de Biclaro e Isidoro de Sevilla En primer lugar, es obligado referirse al conocido modelo de la historia universal, ya documentado en la Antigüedad desde la Grecia helenística. Con los inicios del cristianismo, sus características originales experimentaron una adaptación hacia el nuevo formato de la crónica, para conseguir desde el marco ecuménico remontarse en el tiempo hasta unos orígenes remotos de esa joven religión a la que sus adversarios criticaban como advenediza. La premura y la necesidad de demostrar ese pedigrí incuestionable cristalizan en la obra de Eusebio de Cesarea, considerado el padre de la historiografía cristiana,7 y su relato es actualizado con posterioridad por Jerónimo de Estridón, prolongando la narración hasta finales del siglo IV. Así pues, el modelo de la crónica es muy apreciado durante esta época, de manera que se encontrarán sucesivas crónicas que irán completando en cada caso la información transmitida en la anterior, de forma paralela al transcurso de los años. La secuencia se inicia con el escritor galo Próspero de Aquitania y pasa por múltiples autores de las más variadas procedencias. Al diverso origen territorial de sus autores se ha de adjuntar la premisa de la continuidad cronológica, construida a partir de la progresiva actualización de los contenidos de cada crónica, algo que constituye el rasgo principal de la identidad de este formato.8 En la segunda mitad del siglo VI, se escribe en territorio hispano9 la Crónica de Juan de Biclaro,10 un personaje escasamente conocido que ocupa 7 Salvador, ‘Eusebio de Cesarea’, pp. 135–151. 8 Sánchez Salor, Historiografía latino-cristiana, pp. 33–38. 9 Un estudio de las dos crónicas hispano-visigodas se encuentra en Galán, El género historio­ gráfico de la Chronica. 10 Campos, Juan de Biclaro.

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la sede episcopal de Gerona y cuya actividad literaria, en palabras de Isidoro de Sevilla, se concreta en la autoría de una regla monástica y de una serie de escritos que no han llegado a nosotros.11 Según la praxis habitual de entonces, su narración prosigue la realizada por el autor africano Víctor de Tunnuna12 y se extiende, por tanto, entre los años 566 y 591. Mantiene el uso de considerar los acontecimientos a escala universal, pero se aprecia de forma elocuente la centralidad que de manera progresiva va ocupando el reino hispano-visigodo de Toledo.13 Prueba manifiesta de ello es el sistema de doble datación que emplea, en el que se denomina el año tratado por el correspondiente al reinado del emperador de Oriente, añadiendo la significativa y expresiva novedad de incorporar el año del soberano visigodo reinante.14 Su Crónica está considerada como una fuente de primer orden para el conocimiento de estos años vitales en los que se ponen en práctica dos medidas de gran calado y cruciales para la ulterior fortuna del reino: la sistemática política unificadora de Leovigildo y la pragmática conversión visigoda al catolicismo con Recaredo. En concreto, se comprueba el protagonismo de la nueva situación política, ahora finalmente hispano-visigoda, culminada con la celebración del Concilio III de Toledo, a través de la gran y desigual extensión que ocupa en la Crónica la información sobre esa reunión conciliar, si bien una parte significativa del texto se dedica a descalificar a la herejía arriana.15 Un mérito más que añadir a esta obra del Biclarense, tan ajeno a su voluntad como oportuno a las novedosas claves políticas, consiste en que es bien conocida la frecuente utilización que de la Crónica de Juan de Biclaro realiza Isidoro de Sevilla en la redacción de su obra histórica.16 Pocos años después, pero bien entrada ya la nueva centuria, escribe Isidoro de Sevilla su Crónica Universal.17 Como era habitual, toma como modelo a Eusebio de Cesarea, a su continuador Jerónimo y a quienes van

11 Isidoro de Sevilla, De uiris illustribus XXXI. 12 El marco temporal al que se dedica parte del año 444 para llegar hasta el 566. 13 Galán, ‘La “Chronica” de Juan de Biclaro’, pp. 51–60. 14 A título de ejemplo, ésta es la forma de denominar el año 570, el primero en el que utiliza el doble sistema, fórmula que mantendrá en el resto de la obra: Juan de Biclaro, Crónica, a. 570, ‘En el año cuarto del emperador Justino, que es el segundo año del rey Leovigildo’. 15 Juan de Biclaro, Crónica, a. 590, ‘Pero en el Santo Concilio de Toledo, la perfidia de A ­ rrio, después de numerosos muertos y los asesinatos de católicos inocentes, fue condenada radicalmente por el empeño del rey Recaredo, de manera que no se extendiera más lejos y se diese la paz a las iglesias católicas […]’. 16 Rodríguez, Las historias de los Godos, Vándalos y Suevos, pp. 74–102. 17 Martín Iglesias, ‘La Crónica Universal de Isidoro de Sevilla’, pp. 199–239.

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completando sus obras con posterioridad.18 En ella se ocupa de prolongar los acontecimientos hasta esas fechas, en este caso el año 615, momento en el que se encuentra al frente del reino visigodo una persona bastante cercana al prelado hispalense, el rey Sisebuto.19 Llama poderosamente la atención el hecho de que en fechas tan avanzadas el prelado hispalense todavía mantenga la práctica de usar como fuentes de información a autores paganos junto a los cristianos.20 Se trata, pues, de una característica singular de esta obra, que habla sin duda de la importante (y ya no tan frecuente) formación de su autor y de la excelente biblioteca de la que podía disponer. Es conocido que existen dos redacciones de su obra: una data de 615/616, detrás de la que se ha visto la inspiración del propio soberano; y otra del año 626, en la que se han corregido y sobre todo añadido algunos pasajes, que la extienden en el tiempo hasta el reinado del siguiente soberano, el rey Suintila, y llevan a pensar en cierto interés-imposición real en que se incluyesen tales modificaciones.21 Lo cierto, y fundamental para el objetivo de este trabajo, es que Isidoro no se dedica en exclusiva a actualizar las reputadas crónicas anteriores, limitándose a incorporar como añadido solamente los años sucesivos a la de Juan de Biclaro, sino que lo que realiza es una crónica universal total y genuina, partiendo desde los inicios de los tiempos para llegar hasta el momento presente, en el que ahora tiene un claro protagonismo el reino hispano-visigodo de Toledo por fin unificado.22 Ello estaría hablando no sólo de que pretende colaborar en la consolidación del reino hispano, sino también de que se considera llegada la hora de desvincularse 18 Isidoro, Crónica, 1, ‘A continuación, Eusebio de Cesarea y Jerónimo, de santo recuerdo, dieron a conocer una historia universal a modo de tablas cronológicas ordenada al mismo tiempo en función de los reinos y de los años del mundo’. 19 Isidoro, Crónica, 2, ‘Nosotros, por nuestra parte, con la mayor brevedad con la que hemos podido, hemos escrito un resumen de estos tiempos desde el comienzo del mundo hasta el principado de Augusto Heraclio y del rey Sisebuto, añadiendo a un lado la línea descendiente de los años para que mediante esta indicación se conozca el cómputo del tiempo transcurrido’. 20 Fontaine, Isidore de Séville. 21 Martín Iglesias, ‘La Crónica Universal de Isidoro de Sevilla’, pp. 205–206. Prueba de ello se encuentra en varios pasajes de la crónica en los que aparece una segunda redacción como en el texto citado en la nota 19, donde se sustituye directamente el nombre de Sisebuto por el de Suintila: Isidoro, Crónica, 2 corregido, ‘Nosotros, por nuestra parte, con la mayor brevedad con la que hemos podido, hemos escrito un resumen de estos tiempos desde el comienzo del mundo hasta el principado de Augusto Heraclio y del rey Suintila, añadiendo a un lado la línea descendiente de los años para que mediante esta indicación se conozca el cómputo del tiempo transcurrido’. 22 Isidoro, Crónica, 416b, ‘Tras éste el muy religioso príncipe Suintila inició la guerra contra las restantes ciudades romanas y con una rápida victoria obtuvo el primero la monarquía de todo el reino unificado de Hispania’.

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de un relato con un universo concebido desde unas coordenadas imperiales, para situar como protagonista del relato histórico al reino hispano-visigodo. Dicho de otro modo, lo que redacta es una narración de la historia universal donde desde hace poco tiempo existe un actor nuevo reconocible y en una posición central, resultado de la hibridación de dos elementos anteriores, el mundo romano y el pueblo de los godos, que cristaliza en y se identifica con el territorio de Hispania.

La Biografía como ‘De viris illustribus’: Isidoro de Sevilla e Ildefonso de Toledo El segundo tipo a tratar entre las narraciones sobre el pasado elaboradas en esta época está relacionado con la hagiografía, hasta no hace mucho tiempo escasamente considerada como narración histórica, por no decir abiertamente despreciada y relegada, al colocarla sin más matices dentro de los relatos estigmatizados por su génesis e intencionalidad religiosas.23 Los textos hagiográf icos beben del modelo de la biografía antigua y adoptan durante la Antigüedad Tardía dos formas particulares, también heredadas de los primeros tiempos de la historiografía cristiana, si bien adquieren un desarrollo más que notable durante los tiempos de los reinos romano-germánicos: los De viris illustribus, vidas de hombres destacados en su trayectoria vital; y las Vitae, en este caso vidas de hombres conocidos por su santidad. De un lado, se reúnen las vidas de los hombres ilustres por su relevancia intelectual y, del otro, las vidas de individuos singulares por sus hechos, y en razón de ello dignos de ser imitados. Aquellos que están más directamente enraizados en el modelo antiguo son los primeros, los que llevan por título De viris illustribus. Se trata de compendios dedicados a varones ilustres, que ya habían sido cristianizados por Jerónimo de Estridón adaptando el modelo antiguo de Suetonio con el objetivo de elaborar una nómina de los hombres destacados del mundo intelectual en el primer cristianismo. 24 Este formato también se mantiene vigente durante los cuatro siglos de la Antigüedad Tardía 25 y va experimentando un progresivo escorzo, según el cual se tenderá a desplazar a los hombres ilustres en las letras a favor 23 Esta idea se está modif icando sensiblemente durante los últimos años como se puede comprobar en trabajos como Castillo, Cristianos y hagiógrafos. 24 Galán, ‘El género “De viris illustribus”’, pp. 131–142. 25 Siniscalco, ‘Due tradizioni storiografiche a confronto’, pp. 11–32.

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de los hombres modélicos por su rectitud moral y no necesariamente por su producción escrita. Siguiendo la estela de Jerónimo y de Gennadio, Isidoro de Sevilla se encarga de elaborar también su De viris illustribus, 26 en el que incluye una breve semblanza de treinta y tres personajes en su gran mayoría religiosos.27 A diferencia de lo que ocurría con Jerónimo, cuya intención manifiesta era demostrar una igualdad intelectual entre los hombres de letras paganos y los cristianos, Isidoro no se preocupa ya por este particular y selecciona individuos destacados solamente por su actividad religiosa. No parte de una cronología tan temprana como su modelo, puesto que su primer individuo destacado es Osio de Córdoba, llegando hasta la época en que la escribe, es decir, el arco temporal que se inicia directamente en el siglo IV y se prolonga hasta el VI, algo más de dos siglos. Se observa igualmente el creciente protagonismo de los varones ilustres hispanos, que en las últimas etapas son casi los únicos en ser recogidos. 28 Y no solamente destacan por su número, puesto que se advierte con rapidez cómo entre los personajes tratados de forma más extensa f iguran los nativos de Hispania. Tres sobresalen con claridad por la mayor atención que les presta. En principio, estaría como primer seleccionado el mencionado obispo Osio de Córdoba.29 Las otras dos figuras resultan señeras para la suerte de la historia de la iglesia en Hispania: el primero es el papa Gregorio Magno,30 trascendental para la de la iglesia en general, pero al mismo tiempo muy vinculado con Hispania; y el segundo su hermano y predecesor en la sede episcopal hispalense Leandro de Sevilla, figura crucial para la realidad eclesiástica y política hispana, por su responsabilidad directa en la conversión de los visigodos al catolicismo y por su protagonismo esencial en el Concilio III de Toledo.31 Se acepta como datación de la obra una fecha que se extiende entre los años 615 y 618, es decir, durante el reinado de Sisebuto ya mencionado con anterioridad. Por esa razón, su obra se inscribe en ese periodo de ‘colaboración’ auspiciado por el monarca visigodo, cuya inspiración parece caminar en la senda de generación de un 26 Codoñer, El ‘De viris illustribus’ de Isidoro de Sevilla. 27 Martín Iglesias, ‘El catálogo de los varones ilustres de Isidoro de Sevilla’, pp. 129–151. 28 A partir del Gregorio Magno son todos hispanos hasta el final: Leandro de Sevilla, Liciniano de Cartagena, Severo de Málaga, Juan de Gerona (de Biclaro), Eutropio de Valencia y Máximo de Zaragoza. 29 I. Osius Cordubensis ciuitatis episcopus. 30 XXVII. Gregorius Papa Romanae sedis apostolicae praesul. 31 XXVIII. Leander, genitus patre Seueriano, Carthaginensis prouinciae Hispaniae, professione monachus et ex monacho Hispalensis ecclesiae prouinciae Baeticae constitutus episcopus.

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discurso sobre el pasado que conduce a una época reciente y abiertamente contemporánea, en la que la nueva realidad política hispano-visigoda desempeña un papel protagonista. Entre los ‘discípulos’ de Isidoro se encuentra un prelado toledano que llega a elaborar una abundante producción escrita, merced a la cual se le sitúa entre las figuras más destacadas de las letras hispanas de época hispano-visigoda, el obispo Ildefonso de Toledo. De toda su obra, en este trabajo interesa particularmente un De viris illustribus32 que se inserta en esa tradición cristiana inaugurada por Jerónimo y que es compuesta en una fecha indeterminada durante su pontificado en la sede toledana, es decir, entre 657 y 667, casi medio siglo después. No obstante, sus características modifican en bastante medida el modelo original jeronimiano,33 porque los personajes seleccionados no van a responder tanto al patrón de escritores destacados en su tiempo, cuanto al perfil de hombres distinguidos por su rectitud moral y por su comportamiento ejemplar. Abundantes entre ellos son los miembros de comunidades monásticas,34 que salvo en un caso se convierten en obispos, circunstancia por la que no resulta extraño encontrar entre los elegidos a individuos totalmente ágrafos. A diferencia también de sus ‘predecesores’, el catálogo está conformado por personajes muy cercanos a su tiempo y está cargado de alusiones más o menos veladas a acontecimientos de su época, por lo que la obra está atravesada por contenidos históricos casi contemporáneos. Una nueva singularidad surge del hecho de que los trece varones ilustres sean todos hispanos, por lo que se colige sin dificultad que su ámbito de interés se circunscribe únicamente a la realidad hispano-visigoda. Necesario resulta subrayar que entre los seleccionados se encuentra un nutrido y mayoritario grupo de personalidades vinculadas directamente con la sede toledana, calificada como gloriosa sedes.35 Esta circunstancia en absoluto menor sería una muestra elocuente de la labor que se venía desarrollando para contribuir a la consolidación de Toledo no sólo como capital del reino de Toledo, sino sobre todo como punto central dentro de un organigrama 32 Codoñer, El ‘De viris illustribus’ de Ildefonso de Toledo. 33 Galán, ‘De viris illustribus’ de Ildefonso de Toledo’, pp. 69–80. 34 En su mayoría pertenecientes a la comunidad monástica de Agali, próxima a la ciudad de Toledo y de la que procedía buena parte de sus obispos. 35 Ildefonso, De uiris illustribus, Prefacio, ‘[…] al convertirme en sucesor de Eugenio II, de sagrada memoria, en la gloriosa sede de la ciudad toledana –y la llamo gloriosa, no por ser centro de atracción para innumerables hombres, pues que le da prestigio la presencia de nuestros gloriosos príncipes, sino porque entre los hombres temerosos de Dios es considerado lugar terrible para los injustos y para los justos digno de toda veneración […]’.

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eclesiástico hispano-visigodo,36 cada vez más vinculado y comprometido con la realidad política imperante.

La Historia Particular como ‘Historia Nacional’: Isidoro de Sevilla La progresiva instalación de los reinos germánicos a partir del siglo V y, sobre todo, en los siglos VI y VII, influye de manera importante en los modos de escribir historia, dando lugar a un modelo que ha sido denominado de diversas formas: historias nacionales, historias regionales, historias particulares.37 La inestable configuración política de estos reinos llevaría a situaciones múltiples y heterogéneas que, en diversa medida, están contempladas en estas historias complejas. Quienes están detrás de su autoría son en su tiempo personajes de gran relevancia, algunos de ellos obispos.38 La mayor parte tienen origen romano, sobre todo al principio, para ir vinculándose después cada vez más a una ascendencia germana. Y todos ellos están en diálogo más o menos crítico, en actitud más o menos constructiva, con estas jóvenes realidades políticas en cuyo seno transcurren sus vidas. Así pues, por lo que se acaba de exponer parece innegable aceptar como evidencia la existencia de diferencias reconocibles entre las obras que componen este grupo de historias particulares, patentes ya desde la misma lectura de los títulos que las encabezan. Pero al mismo tiempo se ha de reconocer también que con este formato diferenciado de historias, en el que conviven elementos propios de historia universal y local, de etnografía y de horografía, de monografía e historia contemporánea, de historia eclesiástica y crónica, se conforma un subgénero historiográfico con unas características definidas39 y, sobre todo, imbricado de manera incontestable en la complicada y singular dinámica de esos siglos. La principal contribución a la historia entre las realizadas por Isidoro de Sevilla se atiene precisamente a este modelo y es su Historia de los Godos, 40 36 ‘Su objetivo es ahora el de salvar del olvido a unos determinados varones, no a sus obras. Se trataría además de un objetivo encomiástico, dirigido a ensalzar, principalmente, a los obispos de la sede toledana, cuya presencia había sido nula en los De viris illustribus anteriores, cosa que contrastaba vivamente con la importancia que la sede toledana tenía en el momento en que Ildefonso era titular de ella’, Galán, ‘“De viris illustribus” de Ildefonso de Toledo’, p. 80. 37 Quetglas, ‘Las nuevas historias nacionales’, pp. 163–177; Martínez Pizarro, ‘Ethnic and National History’, pp. 43–89. 38 Salvador, ‘El obispo como historiador’, pp. 259–273. 39 Goffart, The Narrators of Barbarian History. 40 Rodríguez, Las historias de los Godos, Vándalos y Suevos.

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escrita el año 624 y dedicada con posterioridad al rey Sisenando. De ella, se han conservado dos redacciones del autor con escasos años de diferencia, 41 en las que aparecen como sendos apéndices, la Historia de los Vándalos y la Historia de los Suevos. La explicación de estos anexos tiene un sentido netamente geográfico, al ser estos dos los otros pueblos implicados en las invasiones germánicas que estuvieron también asentados en Hispania. De esta circunstancia derivaría una especial relación con los visigodos cuya historia aparece definitivamente asociada para este autor con el solar peninsular. Estos dos añadidos adolecen de un menor cuidado, porque resultan de la yuxtaposición de fuentes anteriores con un grado de reelaboración menos atento de lo que se aprecia en los otros pasajes. 42 El solar común que habían compartido temporalmente estos tres pueblos, Hispania, es de alguna manera el protagonista último de su historia como hace constar en su Laus Spaniae que sitúa al inicio del relato,43 en el que, siguiendo el esquema de los elogia de las provincias procedente del mundo romano, realiza una adaptación a este contexto con una evidente y reconocible carga política. Hispania queda ahora identificada como el territorio donde se asientan los visigodos y establecen su reino. Y por ello, con razón, hace tiempo que la áurea Roma, cabeza de las gentes, te deseó y, aunque el mismo poder romano, primero vencedor, te haya poseído, sin embargo, al fin, la floreciente nación de los godos, después de innumerables victorias en todo el orbe, con empeño te conquistó y te amó y hasta ahora te goza segura entre ínfulas regias y copiosísimos tesoros en seguridad y felicidad de imperio. 44

Como consecuencia de la adición de los tres relatos, esta obra de Isidoro de Sevilla es conocida con el título de Historia de los Godos, Vándalos y Suevos.45 Es una historia breve concebida para trazar un repaso a los avatares del pueblo godo con la intención de aplicar a su favor, como hiciera Eusebio con la religión cristiana, el argumento de la remota antigüedad y con el objetivo de apoyar 41 Ibid., pp. 24–25; Martín Iglesias, ‘La Crónica Universal de Isidoro de Sevilla’, pp. 199–207; Velázquez, ‘La doble redacción de la Historia Gothorum’, pp. 91–126. 42 Rodríguez, Las historias de los Godos, Vándalos y Suevos, p. 23. 43 De laude Spaniae, en Rodríguez, Las historias de los Godos, Vándalos y Suevos, pp. 168–171 y se inicia en los términos siguientes: ‘Tu eres, oh España, sagrada y madre siempre feliz de príncipes y de pueblos, la más hermosa de todas las tierras que se extienden desde el Occidente hasta la India’. 44 Isidoro de Sevilla, Alabanza de España, en Historia de los Godos, pp. 170–171. 45 Historia de regibus Gothorum, Vandalorum et Suevorum.

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la prosapia de ese pujante reino visigodo hispano ahora consolidado después de una centuria anterior agitada por los continuos conflictos. Para realizar las dataciones hace uso de un sistema cronológico triple, que incluye la llamada era hispánica, a la que sigue el año de reinado de los emperadores bizantinos y finaliza ubicando al rey visigodo correspondiente a esa fecha.46 La raza de los visigodos superaría a la de los romanos en antigüedad remitiéndolos bien a los escitas en la primera redacción,47 considerados el pueblo más antiguo de todos; o bien haciéndolos descendientes de Magog, hijo de Jafet y nieto de Noé en la segunda.48 Para los orígenes épicos del pueblo godo no parece que dispusiera de la abundante información que sí había tenido Casiodoro, cuya obra y la de Jordanes no debió de conocer. Entre las fuentes que utiliza se encuentran autores como Jerónimo, Orosio, Próspero o Hidacio, por citar algunos de los más destacados, además del anteriormente mencionado Juan de Biclaro.49 La forma de presentación no tiene grandes pretensiones, sino que se caracteriza por su sencillez, por cuanto se trata de una exposición continua organizada siguiendo la sucesión de los distintos reinados. Los visigodos son presentados como unos guerreros temidos ya por personajes tan señeros de la Antigüedad como Alejandro, Pirro o César y explica sus actuaciones en situaciones comprometidas para los romanos como la batalla de Adrianópolis o el saqueo de Roma, respecto del cual, siguiendo a Agustín y Orosio, señala su actitud respetuosa con las basílicas cristianas y las personas y los objetos religiosos.50 El foedus firmado con Roma el año 418 los convierte en aliados del Imperio y colaboradores con sus intereses. Continúa reconociendo su contribución a las leyes con la elaboración del Código de Eurico y, tras poner de manifiesto la actitud de tolerancia hacia los católicos que fue desarrollada durante el reinado de Amalarico, narra 46 A título de ejemplo se puede mencionar este pasaje sobre el rey Leovigildo: Isidoro, Historia de los Godos, 49, ‘En la Era DCVI, en el año tercero del imperio de Justino el Menor, Leovigildo, habiendo obtenido el principado de España y de la Galia, decidió ampliar su reino con la guerra y aumentar sus bienes’. 47 Historia de los Godos, 1. ‘Es cosa cierta que el reino de los Godos es antiquísimo, ya que surgió del reino de los escitas’. 48 Sobre el origen de los godos. 1. ‘El pueblo de los godos es antiquísimo. Algunos los creen descendientes de Magog, hijo de Jafet, por la semejanza de su última sílaba y, sobre todo, porque lo deducen del profeta Ezequiel; pero los antiguos eruditos acostumbraron a llamarlos más “Getas” que “Gog” o “Magog”’. 49 Rodríguez, Las historias de los Godos, Vándalos y Suevos, pp. 67–121. 50 15 ‘[…] Y así, después de esta promesa, cuando atacaron la ciudad, concedieron el indulto de la muerte y del cautiverio a todos los que se refugiaron en lugares sagrados, y también perdonaron con igual misericordia a los que se hallaban fuera de los templos martiriales y pronunciaron el nombre de Cristo o de los santos’.

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cómo el usurpador Atanagildo dio lugar con su rebelión a un conflicto que provocó la llegada de los bizantinos a Hispania.51 De relieve son puestas las victorias militares conseguidas en los distintos frentes por Leovigildo, a quien considera directo responsable de la consolidación de la monarquía en Hispania.52 Para ello, relata Isidoro que el soberano había contado con la baza de la acumulación de riquezas en el tesoro. Pero destaca como elemento simbólico de su empuje para fortalecer la monarquía visigoda la adaptación a este reino del ceremonial propio del imperio,53 en una señal manifiesta de equiparación con los bizantinos a partir de la emulación de los protocolos de su corte, por lo que se pone de relieve que estaba liberado de cualquier tutela simbólica o de facto de la autoridad imperial. Los modelos que destaca como dirigentes del pueblo godo y de los que elabora una breve apología son los tres monarcas próximos a su tiempo: Recaredo, Sisebuto y Suintila. El primero sobresale, como se ha señalado, por ser el responsable de la conversión al catolicismo del pueblo de los godos, y por mostrar una actitud menos guerrera e irreligiosa que su padre y predecesor.54 De Sisebuto traza un retrato idealizado desde la posición de un amigo con el que ha colaborado. Entre sus virtudes, además de ser un defensor de la ortodoxia católica, se encuentran las habilidades militares y el ejercicio de la clemencia con los vencidos.55 Y reconoce a Suintila la cualidad de ser el primero que reina sobre la totalidad de Hispania, tras haber conseguido culminar la conquista de las posiciones que aún conservaban los bizantinos en la península.56 En sus perfiles se trasluce una práctica 51 47 ‘[…] Este, que deseaba desde hacía tiempo privar a Agila del reino, que ya había usurpado, había pedido al emperador Justiniano tropas en su ayuda, que después no pudo echar de sus fronteras, a pesar de sus intentos’. 52 49 ‘[…] se apoderó de gran parte de España, pues antes la nación de los godos se reducía a unos límites estrechos’. 53 Era DCVIII ‘[…] y también fue el primero que se presentó a los suyos en solio, cubierto de la vestidura real; pues, antes de él, hábito y asiento eran comunes para el pueblo y para los reyes’. 54 52 ‘[…] Estaba dotado de un gran respeto a la religión y era muy distinto de su padre en costumbres, pues el padre era irreligioso y muy inclinado a la guerra, él era piadoso por la fe y preclaro por la paz; aquél dilataba el imperio de su nación con el empleo de las armas, éste iba a engrandecerlo más gloriosamente con el trofeo de la fe. Desde el comienzo mismo de su reinado Recaredo se convirtió, en efecto, a la fe católica y llevó al culto de la verdadera fe a toda la nación gótica, borrando así la mancha de un error enraizado’. 55 61 ‘Fue notable por sus conocimientos bélicos y célebre por sus victorias […] Se mostró tan clemente después de su victoria, que pagó un precio para dejar en libertad a muchos que habían sido hechos prisioneros por su ejército y reducidos a la esclavitud como botín de guerra, llegando incluso su tesoro a servir de rescate de los cautivos’. 56 62 ‘[…] alcanzó por su feliz éxito la gloria de un triunfo superior a la de los demás reyes, ya que fue el primero que obtuvo el poder monárquico sobre toda la España peninsular, hecho que

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muy común en la historiografía del mundo clásico consistente en el interés por caracterizar a los personajes, mostrando con este trato particular la circunstancia de que conocía personalmente a los tres monarcas. El relato finaliza con una recapitulación, en una posición simétrica a la alabanza dedicada a Hispania en el inicio, con la particularidad de que en esta ocasión los elogios van destinados al pueblo de los visigodos, tanto a sus cualidades físicas57 como a sus habilidades militares.58 Con esta obra Isidoro pretende construir el relato del pueblo sobre el que se ha erigido, después de casi dos centurias de conflictos más o menos abiertos, la realidad político-religiosa en el territorio hispano dentro de la que el prelado sevillano está viviendo.59 Ha tomado carta de naturaleza una nueva fórmula política diferente y distinguida de las reminiscencias imperiales, una construcción definitivamente ajena a las ambiciones e intentos bizantinos, en tanto que romanos, de restauración del Imperio en la totalidad del Mediterráneo. Para su elaboración no cabe duda de que había resultado definitiva la decantación por ella de la aristocracia hispanorromana católica, más o menos condicionada por las circunstancias de las varias décadas que duró el proceso. Dentro de ella destaca un episcopado hispano de extracción aristocrática, cuyas figuras más destacadas adquieren un protagonismo manifiesto en la apuesta por esa confluencia final de intereses y cuya representación se puede identificar en una figura tan señera como la del propio Isidoro de Sevilla.60 Y teniendo en cuenta que la función educativa constituye para Isidoro una razón primordial en la elaboración de sus escritos, no podía dejar de exponer y explicar los tiempos pasados con una reconocible ambición presentista. A su dimensión de historiador se pueden adscribir sin duda tres de sus obras: su Crónica Universal, su De viris illustribus y su Historia no se dio en ningún príncipe anterior’. 57 67 ‘Pueblos veloces por naturaleza, vivos de ingenio, confiados en la seguridad de sus fuerzas, poderosos por la fortaleza de su cuerpo, orgullosos del tamaño de su estatura, distinguidos en su porte y vestido, prontos para la acción, sufridos en las heridas […]’. 58 69 ‘[…] Son, además, bastante notables en el arte de la guerra, y entran en combate ecuestre no sólo con las lanzas, sino también con los dardos; y no sólo atacan en combate ecuestre, sino también en combate de a pie; pero confían, sobre todo, en la carrera veloz de sus caballos […]’. 59 Fontaine, Isidoro de Sevilla, pp. 271–286. 60 Muy ilustrativa al respecto es la opción final de la aristocracia meridional, en cuyo territorio se dirimieron algunos de los conflictos de mayor trascendencia, por brindar apoyo al reino hispano-visigodo católico de Toledo, que puede identificarse con figuras tan significativas e influyentes como las de los dos hermanos metropolitanos de Sevilla, Leandro e Isidoro. Salvador, ‘Los siglos VI y VII en el Sur de Hispania’, pp. 183–203; Salvador, ‘The Bishops and the Byzantine Intervention in Hispania’, pp. 245–261; Inglebert, ‘Isidore de Séville en son monde’, pp. 109–122.

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de los Godos, Vándalos y Suevos, obra esta última que destaca entre las demás como su principal contribución a la historiografía en este periodo avanzado de la Antigüedad Tardía.61 Pero no se debe perder de vista que la figura del prelado sevillano es muy compleja y su sombra se proyecta con claridad en las primeras décadas del siglo VII hispano. Más allá de estas tres obras de su producción historiográfica, hay que tener en cuenta que la amplitud y variedad de su obra y la intervención en distintos avatares políticos rápidamente conducen a la constatación de que su figura excede con amplitud las facetas exclusivas de un historiador. Más bien lo pondrían en relación con la aquilatada experiencia política tan común a la mayoría de historiadores del mundo clásico. Así pues, podría decirse que Isidoro de Sevilla, además de significado hombre de iglesia, fue una auténtica figura de estado.62 En su trayectoria puede comprobarse que no sólo se le puede atribuir la cualidad de brillante hombre de pensamiento, sino que también sus actividades le revelan como un influyente hombre de acción. Siguiendo sus escritos, se llega a la conclusión de que es una persona que, bebiendo de las fuentes de la Antigüedad, se logra adaptar a una nueva realidad socio-política, la del reino hispano-visigodo de Toledo, a cuya definición y fortaleza no duda en contribuir.

Epílogo. El caso atípico de la monografía: Julián de Toledo El cuarto de los autores destacados en las tareas historiográficas es asimismo otro prelado capitalino, el obispo Julián de Toledo, testimonio palpable, y ya incuestionado a esas alturas cronológicas, de la nueva centralidad de la ciudad toledana. Alejada del tono doctrinal predominante en su producción, se encuentra una destacada y muy original obra de historiografía, la Historia de Wamba63. Escrita en los años setenta del siglo VII,64 en ella se narra la campaña gloriosa de este monarca visigodo y de su ejército para sofocar la rebelión del duque Pablo que partió de los territorios de la Septimania gala y se llegó a extender hasta el noreste hispano. Así se introduce el relato: Historia de Wamba, En el nombre del Señor comienza el libro Historia de la Galia, que fue escrito en tiempos del rey Wamba, de divina memoria, 61 Fontaine, Isidoro de Sevilla, pp. 162–178. 62 Wood, The Politics of Identity in Visigothic Spain. 63 Díaz y Díaz, ‘Julián de Toledo ‘Historia del Rey Wamba’, pp. 89–114. 64 Teillet, ‘L’Historia Wambae est-elle une oeuvre de circonstance?’, pp. 415–424.

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por Julián, obispo de la Diócesis de Toledo. En el nombre de la Santa Trinidad comienza la Historia del Excelentísimo rey Wamba que trata de la expedición y victoria, con la que sojuzgó en memorable triunfo la insurrección de la Provincia de la Galia contra su persona.65

La revuelta de Pablo y la redacción de la obra tuvieron lugar con anterioridad al acceso a la sede episcopal de este obispo, ocurrida en 680, una tesitura que no resultaría aventurado conjeturar que pudo favorecer de algún modo su acceso posterior a ella. De lo que no hay duda es de su cualidad de fuente historiográfica de primera magnitud para conocer esta compleja y conflictiva situación, que puso contra las cuerdas al monarca visigodo.66 Se trata de una obra muy ligada a los parámetros de la escritura de la historia en época clásica,67 por cuanto pone en práctica varios recursos propios de los modelos antiguos, en particular se advierte cómo sigue en repetidas ocasiones al historiador Salustio.68 Y como ocurre con los escritos de su modelo, puede caracterizarse dentro del subgénero de la monografía histórica, tan del gusto del historiador romano. No deja de situar las habituales intervenciones en primera persona dentro del texto, imitando también la inclusión de discursos tan querida en el mundo grecorromano; ni tampoco renuncia a hacer uso de la emotividad y del dramatismo para con ellos captar las simpatías de los lectores hacia la causa del rey. En todo momento, se advierte el neto posicionamiento del autor a favor del monarca y sus seguidores, dechados de todas las virtudes posibles; que son contrapuestos sin disimulo ni remilgo alguno a los enemigos, quienes no pasan de ser una turba sin fe, sin valores, sin Dios, con el añadido de estar sometidos a alguien calificado de tirano y traidor. La preeminente posición de Julián al frente de la sede toledana, desde la que intervino en los entresijos de primera magnitud de la política de su momento, como ocurrió en el oscuro episodio de la deposición del rey Wamba; junto con el manifiesto liderazgo de la iglesia hispano-visigoda ejercido ante la sede romana, como se atestigua con la actitud crítica ante las demandas del Papa manifestadas en el XIV Concilio de Toledo del año 684 presidido por el mismo Julián; se convierten en dos testimonios 65 Díaz y Díaz, ‘Julián de Toledo ‘Historia del Rey Wamba’, p. 90. 66 Como ejemplo se puede citar un reciente estudio sobre el ejército visigodo sustentado en esta fuente: Parra Romo, ‘El ejército visigodo en campaña, Wamba y la secesión de la Narbonense’, pp. 221–251. 67 Salvador Ventura, ‘La Historia Wambae de Julián de Toledo y sus características de historiografía clásica’, pp. 391–407. 68 Brunhölzl, Histoire de la littérature latine du Moyen Âge, pp. 103–105.

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inequívocos de su implicación directa en las controversias político-religiosas de su momento histórico. Por esa razón, se puede considerar manifiesta la actitud protagonista de este prelado toledano dentro del ámbito religioso y, por extensión, o si se prefiere inevitablemente, también en la política hispano-visigoda durante el tramo final del siglo VII. Julián de Toledo estaba inequívocamente comprometido con la fortaleza y la pervivencia del reino y se implicó sin disimulos en la defensa del monarca reinante. El primado toledano se convirtió así en una pieza esencial para la estabilidad del reino hispano-visigodo de Toledo y como tal hubo de actuar de forma manifiesta.69 Resulta llamativo comprobar que La Historia Wambae no ha tenido la consideración merecida, en tanto que hito importante, singular y, por qué no decirlo, excelente de la praxis historiográfica de la Antigüedad Tardía. Probablemente la explicación tiene que ver con el hecho de que Julián de Toledo, para conseguir sus fines, escribió una obra que presenta un relato cargado de intensidad en el que muestra una versión claramente maniquea del conflicto. Pero él no estaba preocupado por mantenerse dentro de las coordenadas de una posición objetiva ni crítica sobre lo narrado, posición de neutralidad que no se identifica tampoco entre los otros historiadores del momento. La obra del prelado toledano nació con el reconocible propósito de contribuir a la fortaleza de la monarquía hispano-visigoda en la figura de su legítimo soberano reinante. Su mérito y originalidad estribarían más bien en los recursos de matriz clásica de los que, en una fecha ya tan tardía, hace uso para conseguir su propósito. Esta obra histórica de Julián de Toledo presenta un relato cargado de intensidad en el que muestra una versión abiertamente partidista sobre el conflicto, para cuya elaboración hace uso de instrumentos de corte puramente clásico, dando lugar con ello a la que se puede considerar la última obra histórica de los visigodos. No obstante, participa de dos de las ambiciones a las que, según los patrones clásicos, debía de atenerse la historiografía: la de servir de ejemplo del que sacar una lectura provechosa y la de convertirse en fuente de información para tiempos futuros.70 Esta particular monografía histórica vendría a ser algo así como una suerte de epígono que bebe directamente del modelo de Salustio, pero con una intencionalidad lejana de las denuncias de aquél, para apuntar en este contexto histórico contemporáneo hacia el apoyo sin fisuras al monarca visigodo reinante. 69 Teillet, Des Goths à la nation gotique, pp. 585–637. 70 Salvador Ventura, ‘La Historia Wambae de Julián de Toledo y sus características de historiografía clásica’, pp. 406–407.

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El empuje y la vitalidad que transmite esta atípica Historia de Wamba escrita a finales del siglo VII por el obispo metropolitano Julián de Toledo en nada hacían presagiar la inminencia de un final tan rápido y de tan nefastas consecuencias para el reino hispano-visigodo de Toledo como el que esperaba sólo algunos años después con la invasión musulmana de Hispania.

Obras citadas AAVV, XIV Centenario del Concilio III de Toledo (589–1989) (Toledo: Arzobispado de Toledo, 1991). Adler, William, ‘Early Christian Historians and Historiography’, in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies, ed. by Susan Ashbrook Harvey and David G. Hunter (Oxford-New York: Oxford University Press, 2008), pp. 584–602. Brunhölzl, Franz, Histoire de la littérature latine du Moyen Âge. I, De Cassiodore à la fin de la Renaissance Carolingienne (Turnhout: Brepols, 1980). Campos, Julio, Juan de Biclaro obispo de Gerona. Su vida y su obra (Madrid: CSIC, 1960). Castellanos García, Santiago, ‘Isidoro de Sevilla. Obispo y política en el reino godo de Hispania’, in Autoridad y autoridades de la Iglesia antigua, ed. by Francisco Salvador Ventura, Pedro Castillo Maldonado, Purificación Ubric Rabaneda, and Alberto Quiroga Puertas (Granada: Editorial de la Universidad de Granada, 2017), pp. 519–531. Castillo Maldonado, Pedro, Cristianos y hagiógrafos. Estudio de las propuestas de excelencia cristiana en la Antigüedad Tardía (Madrid: Signifer Libros, 2002). Codoñer Merino, Carmen, El ‘De viris illustribus’ de Isidoro de Sevilla: estudio y edición crítica (Salamanca: CSIC, 1964). Codoñer Merino, Carmen, El ‘De viris illustribus’ de Ildefonso de Toledo. Estudio y edición crítica (Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca, 1972). Croke, Brian, ‘Latin Historiography and the Barbarian Kingdoms’, in Greek & Roman Historiography in Late Antiquity: Fourth to Sixth Century A.D., ed. by Gabriele Marasco (Leiden-Boston, MA: Brill, 2003), pp. 349–391. Díaz y Díaz, Pedro Rafael, ‘Julián de Toledo ‘Historia del Rey Wamba’ (traducción y notas)’, Florentia Iliberritana 1 (1990), 89–114. Fontaine, Jacques, Isidore de Séville et la culture classique dans l’Espagne Wisigothique (Paris: Institut d’Etudes Augustiniennes, 1983). Fontaine, Jacques, Isidoro de Sevilla. Génesis y originalidad de la cultura hispánica en tiempos de los visigodos (Madrid: Ediciones Encuentro, 2002). Galán Sánchez, Pedro Juan, El género historiográfico de la Chronica. Las crónicas hispanas de época visigoda (Cáceres: Universidad de Extremadura, 1994).

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Galán Sánchez, Pedro Juan, ‘El género “De viris illustribus”. De Suetonio a San Jerónimo’, Anuario de Estudios Filológicos 14 (1991), 131–142. Galán Sánchez, Pedro Juan, ‘“De viris illustribus” de Ildefonso de Toledo o la modificación del género’, Anuario de Estudios Filológicos 15 (1992), 69–80. Galán Sánchez, Pedro Juan, ‘La “Chronica” de Juan de Biclaro. Primera manifestación historiográfica del nacionalismo hispano-godo’, Arqueología, paleontología y etnografía 4 (1998) (Ejemplar dedicado a las Jornadas Internacionales “Los visigodos y su mundo”. Ateneo de Madrid. Noviembre de 1990), 51–60. García Moreno, Luis A., Leovigildo. Unidad y diversidad de un reinado (Madrid: Real Academia de la Historia, 2008). Goffart, Walter, The Narrators of Barbarian History (A.D. 550–800): Jordanes, Gregory of Tours, Bede and Paul the Deacon (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1998). Hillgarth, Jocelyn H., ‘Historiography in Visigothic Spain’, La storiografia altomedievale, Settimane di Studio sull’Alto Medioevo 17 (1970), 261–311. Hillgarth, Jocelyn H., ‘Las fuentes de San Julián de Toledo’, Anales Toledanos 3 (1971) 97–118. Inglebert, Hervé, ‘Isidore de Séville en son monde. Lieux, peuples, époques’, Antiquité Tardive 23 (2015), 109–122. Liebeschuetz, John H. W. G., Decline and Change in Late Antiquity: Religion, Barbarians and Their Historiography (Aldershot–Burlington: Ashgate Variorum, 2006). Martín Iglesias, José Carlos, ‘La Crónica Universal de Isidoro de Sevilla: circuns­ tancias históricas e ideológicas de su composición y traducción de la misma’, Iberia. Revista de la Antigüedad 4 (2001), 199–239. Martín Iglesias, José Carlos, ‘El catálogo de los varones ilustres de Isidoro de Sevilla (CPL 1206). Contenidos y datación’, Studia Historica (Historia Antigua) 31 (2013), 129–151. Martínez Pizarro, Joaquín, ‘Ethnic and National History ca. 500–1000’, in Deborah Mauskopf Deliyannis (ed.), Historiography in the Middle Ages (Leiden–Boston, MA: Brill, 2003), pp. 43–89. Parra Romo, Ángela, ‘El ejército visigodo en campaña, Wamba y la secesión de la Narbonense’, Studia Historica (Historia Antigua) 36 (2018), 221–251. Quetglas, Pere J., ‘Las nuevas historias nacionales’, in Historiografía y biografía, Actas del Coloquio Internacional sobre historiografía y biografía (de la Antigüedad al Renacimiento) (Granada, 21–23 de Septiembre de 1992), ed. by José Antonio Sánchez Marín, Jesús Lens Tuero, and Concepción López Rodríguez (Madrid: Ediciones Clásicas, 1997), pp. 163–177. Reydellet, Marc, La royauté dans la littérature latine de Sidoine Apollinaire à Isidore de Séville (Roma: École Française de Rome, 1981).

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Rodríguez Alonso, Cristóbal, Las historias de los Godos, Vándalos y Suevos de Isidoro de Sevilla. Estudio, edición crítica y traducción (León, Centro de Estudios e Investigación ‘San Isidoro’ Archivo Histórico Diocesano-Caja de Ahorros y Monte de Piedad de León, 1975). Salvador Ventura, Francisco, ‘Los siglos VI y VII en el Sur de Hispania. De periodo de autonomía ciudadana a pilar del reino hispano-visigodo’, in Hispania meridional durante la Antigüedad, ed. by Francisco Salvador Ventura (Jaén: Universidad de Jaén, 2000), pp. 183–203. Salvador Ventura, Francisco, ‘The Bishops and the Byzantine Intervention in Hispania’, in The Role of the Bishop in Late Antiquity. Conflict and Compromise, ed. by Andrew Fear, Mar Marcos, and José Fernández Ubiña (London-New Delhi-New York-Sidney: Bloomsbury, 2013), pp. 245–261. Salvador Ventura, Francisco, ‘El obispo como historiador’, in El obispo en la Antigüedad Tardía. Homenaje a Ramón Teja, ed. by Silvia Acerbi, Mar Marcos, and Juana Torres (Madrid: Ediciones Trotta, 2016), pp. 259–273. Salvador Ventura, Francisco, ‘Eusebio de Cesarea. El padre de la Historia Cristiana’, in Autoridad y autoridades de la Iglesia antigua, ed. by Francisco Salvador Ventura, Pedro Castillo Maldonado, Purificación Ubric Rabaneda, and Alberto Quiroga Puertas, pp. 135–151. Salvador Ventura, Francisco, ‘La Historia Wambae de Julián de Toledo y sus características de historiografía clásica’, Habis 50 (2019), 391–407. Sánchez Salor, Eustaquio, Historiografía latino-cristiana. Principios, contenido, forma (Roma: L’Erma di Bretschneider, 2006). Siniscalco, Paolo, ‘Due tradizioni storiograf iche a confronto. Le Historiae Ecclesiasticae e i De uiris illustribus’, in Venti secoli di storiografia ecclesiastica. Bilancio e prospettive, ed. by Luis Martínez Ferrer (Roma: Edusc, 2010), pp. 11–32. Teillet, Suzanne, Des Goths à la nation gotique. Les origines de l’idée de nation en Occident du Ve au VIIe siècle (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1984). Teillet, Suzanne, ‘L’Historia Wambae est-elle une oeuvre de circonstance?’, Antigüedad y Cristianismo 3 (1986), 415–424. Velázquez Soriano, Isabel, ‘La doble redacción de la Historia Gothorum de Isidoro de Sevilla’, in L’édition critique des oeuvres d’Isidore de Séville. Les recensions multiples, ed. by Mª Adelaida Andrés Sanz, Jacques Elfassi, and José Carlos Martín Iglesias (Paris: Etudes Augustiniennes, 2008), pp. 91–126. Young, Frances, ‘Classical Genres in Christian Guise. Christian Genres in Classical Guise’, in The Cambridge History of Early Christian Literature, ed. by Frances Young, Lewis Ayres, and Andrew Louth (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2004), pp. 251–258. Wood, Jamie, The Politics of Identity in Visigothic Spain: Religion and Power in the Isidore of Seville (Leiden: Brill, 2012).

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About the author Francisco Salvador Ventura is Professor of Ancient History at the University of Granada. His research interests are in Late Antiquity in Spain, in particular the Visigothic Kingdom, the historiography of this period, as well as the image of Antiquity in the audiovisual media.

8. The Definitions and Uses of Historia in Isidore of Seville Hervé Inglebert

Abstract Isidore of Seville is an exceptional witness to analyse the purpose of historia production in late Antiquity. The analysis of uses of the term historia by the Bishop of Seville, which he mentions more than one hundred times in his works, leads us to distinguish three different aspects. The first one is that of the definition of historia about the past as a literary genre based on classical standards. The second one is an exegetical reflection on the plural readings of the historia of a biblical text. The third one concerns the specif ic usages that Isidore makes from the data provided by historia, whether it is sacred or profane, in order to produce texts aiming to describe the etymologies of words or the human past. Keywords: Isidore of Seville, historiography, Late Antiquity

Isidore of Seville is an exceptional witness with respect to analysing the purpose of historia production in late Antiquity. He wrote a Chronicon and stories of the Germanic peoples settled in Spain.1 In his Etymologies, he defined the various genres of writing historia about the past in service of his cultural project.2 Finally, there are many references to historia in the

1 Rodríguez, Las historias de los Godos, Vandalos y Suevos. 2 Domínguez del Val, Historia de la antigua literatura latina.

Ubric Rabaneda, P. (ed.), Writing History in Late Antique Iberia: Historiography in Theory and Practice from the Fourth to the Seventh Century. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2022 doi 10.5117/9789463729413_ch08

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De ecclesiasticis officiis,3 the Liber differentiarum, 4 the De natura rerum,5 the De fide catholica contra Iudaeos,6 and the Sententiae.7 We can distinguish three different aspects from the Bishop of Seville’s works, which mention uses of the term historia more than one hundred times. The first aspect is the definition of historia as a literary genre based on classical standards. The second is an exegetical reflection on the plural readings of the historia of a biblical text. The third aspect concerns the specific usages that Isidore discerns from the data provided by historia, whether sacred or profane, in order to produce texts aimed at describing the etymologies of words or the human past.

Explicit definitions of historia as a literary genre Definitions of historia as a literary genre are mainly found in the Etymologies, in particular in chapters 41 (De historia) and 44 (De generibus historiae) of book I. They include various classical data that coexist but that are not always harmonised. 1 – The formal definition of historia as a literary genre Historia may be considered as a part of the grammar because the importance of their subject justifies them being written down.8 The form that historia takes distinguishes it from the poetic carmen9; nevertheless, the case of Lucan’s Pharsalia shows that a historia can be put into verse.10 Indeed, the defining feature of historia is not the form but the content, which also distinguishes it from the fabula.11 Isidore thus clarifies the difference between the historia, which deals with true things, the rhetorical or fictional/novelistic 3 Lawson, Sancti Isidori Episcopi Hispalensis De ecclesiasticis officiis, suggests on p. 14 that the work dates from c. 598–600. 4 Codoñer, Isidoro de Sevilla, Diferencias; Andrés Sanz, Isidorus Hispalensis episcopus. Liber differentiarum (II), suggests on pp. 22–28 that the work dates from c. 600. 5 Fontaine, Traité de la nature, dates the treaty to 612–613. See also Trisoglio, Isidoro. La nature delle cose. 6 Drews, Juden und Judentum bei Isidor von Sevilla, suggests on p. 124 that the work dates from c. 614–615. 7 Cazier, Isidorus Hispalensis. Sententiae, suggests on pp. XIV–XIX that the work dates from c. 630–633, following the publication of the Etymologies and the latest version of the Chronica. 8 Etymologiarum libri, 1.41.2 (taking up Augustine, De ordine, 2.12). 9 Ibid., 1.21. 10 Ibid., 8.7.10. 11 Ibid., 1.5.4.

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argumentum that speaks of things that are not but that are possible and the fabula, which focuses on what has not existed or cannot be because it is contrary to nature.12 This distinction between the real, the probable, and the impossible is based on the quality of the testimony and not on a reasoning about the nature of things. Thus, with regard to the inhabitants of the antipodes, the knowledge of historians, whose texts do not indicate anything of the sort, contrasts with the poets’ wild imaginings.13 Conversely, a metamorphosis, which is suspected a priori of being a poetic invention, may nevertheless be considered real if it is confirmed by historians.14 In its most general sense, historia is a genre written mainly in prose and as a narrative about things that are true because they are attested. This applies, in particular to the two areas: that of nature and that of human actions. In this chapter, we will be focusing on the latter, which is predominant in the work of Isidore, but without omitting the former. 2 – The generic definition of historia The generic meaning of historia is the narrative of certain facts from the past.15 It reports what is worthy of memory but primarily the political and military aspects of an event.16 In this respect, we can compare historia to monumentum, which also aims to extend the memory of a character or an event.17 Isidore recalls the link between historia and power by distinguishing between the respective themes18 of comedy (the acts of private persons) and tragedy (the acts concerning cities and kings). This explains why the acts of certain emperors, mentioned to establish a chronology, are not deemed worthy of memory and therefore their reign is not reported in Isidore’s Etymologies or Chronicon.19 12 Ibid., 1.44.5. 13 Ibid., 9.2.133. 14 Ibid., 1.41.1. 15 Ibid., 1.41.1. 16 Ibid., 1.41.2: quia quidquid dignum memoria; 1.41.4 : Quaequae enim digna memoriam domi militiaeque, mari ac terrae; that is said regarding the annals, but Isidore then clarifies: Historia autem multorum annorum uel temporum est, cuius diligentia annui commentarii in libris delati sunt. 17 Ibid., 1.41.2 ; De differentiis uerborum (Liber differentiarum I), 314. 18 Etymologiarum libri, 8.7.6. 19 Ibid., 5.39.30: Helius Pertinax ann.(um) i. Nihil habet historiae. Ibid., 5, 39, 31: Macrinus annum I. Huius breuitas uitae nihil gestorum habet. Chronica A.D. 626, 318–319: Tacitus regnauit annum I. Huius uitae breuitas nihil dignum historiae praenotat. Etymologiarum libri, 5, 39, 3: Galerius annos II. Nihil dignum historiae contulit; Chronica A.D. 626, 327–328: Galerius regnauit annos III (II in Chronica A.D.

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Since the Chronicon of Apollodorus of Athens, written around 140 BC, however, facts worth remembering also encompass a cultural dimension. To the political, military, and cultural aspects, we must add the extraordinary catastrophic or prodigious events already recorded by classical authors, and the biblical and ecclesiastical aspects written down by Christians since Julius Africanus. 3 – The specific definition of historia Historia has another more specific meaning inherited from its Greek origin,20 and which refers to the description of a recent past witnessed by a historian. In a tradition dating back to Herodotus’s autopsy, the historian’s visual testimony is considered superior to that reported by a witness, which, like the account of a poet, may be misleading.21 For this reason, historia is first and foremost considered as recording the time close to the author. In this sense, history contrasts with the annals, which describe a past prior to our age;22 we obviously think of Tacitus, but Isidore does not cite him. Unlike Sallust, a canonical example of Latin historians, Titus Livius [Livy], Eusebius, or Jerome were simultaneously annalists of the distant past and historians of the recent past in the same work.23 Isidore did the same in his works about the origins and history of the Germanic peoples, because he favoured the generic meaning of historia and not the definition used by the ueteres, who designated it as the investigation of the recent past. Conversely, historia differs from descriptions of brief time periods of a day, month, or year insofar as it covers a much more extensive period of time,24 hence a historia text is relatively lengthy.25 The literary criterion would also have made it possible to contrast the continuous narrative of the historian Livy with the brief notes of the columnist Jerome, or the chronological continuity of the annals in the face of the discontinuity of the chronicon, but Isidore does not elaborate on these aspects when he defines the genre of the chronicon.26 615–616). Huius breuitas imperii nihil dignum historiae contulit. Isidore estimates Galerius’s reign at two or three years, between Diocletian and Constantine the Great (when he ruled like Caesar from 293 to 305 and like Augustus from 305 to 311); he fails to mention that he was a persecutor. 20 Etymologiarum libri, 1.41.1. 21 Ibid., 1.41.1. 22 Ibid., 1.44.4. 23 Ibid., 1.44.4. 24 Ibid., 1.44.1: Genus historiae triplex est, with the distinction between the report of the day (diarium or ephemerides), of the month (kalendaria) and of the year (annales). 25 Ibid., 6.12.1. 26 Ibid., 5.28 (De chronicae uocabulo).

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4 – Historia and reality Not every witness is a historian – a historian must be a trustworthy and truthful witness, who neither invents nor distorts. Timaeus and Polybius, for example, accepted that a lying historian is not a historian. While Isidore does not develop this point, he alludes to it when he contrasts the historian’s narrative with the poet’s invention of a lie of a witness. A historian may error as a result of hearsay, but a historian who has seen something does not lie about it. The fact that the historian is supposed to tell the truth a priori is the basis for the distinction and relationship between the historian’s narrative, historia, and historical reality, res gesta. The clearest definition is that of Etymologies 1.41.1: Historia est narratio rei gestae, per quam ea, quae in praeterito facta sunt, dinoscuntur; ‘history is the narrative of the facts through which the events that occurred in the past can be known’. Dinoscere means ‘to discern’, ‘to distinguish clearly’. This means that only certain facts can be known and that the whole past cannot be known. The facts in question are those that have been defined as ‘worthy of memory’, and which, for Isidore, refer first and foremost to political and military history as perceived from the point of view of the leaders. It is, therefore, primarily the history of the kingdoms, one that Isidore wrote in his stories of the Germanic peoples who reached Hispania. But not all these achievements are necessarily known, due to the lack of contemporary historians or because the chronicles have been lost, something that Isidore bemoans in the case of the Goths.27 Knowledge of the past is by definition thematically incomplete and, because of circumstances, chronologically discontinuous. The obscurity of the past means that, sometimes, we cannot be certain of anything, and we cannot blame either historians or commentators whose accounts differ from each other.28 5 – Christian and pagan historians In Etymologies 42 (De primis auctoribus historiae), which can be supplemented with some passages from the Chronica, Isidore distinguishes between ‘our authors’ and ‘pagan authors’. This dichotomy, already attested by Flavius Josephus, was subsequently taken up by the Christians from 160, including Tatian, Theophilus of Antioch, and Clement of Alexandria, who used Hellenistic Jewish computs, and then by the first Christian chroniclers, Julius Africanus and Hippolytus of Rome. 27 Historia Gothorum, Introduction. 28 Etymologiarum libri, 15.1.2.

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Among those whom Isidore calls ‘our authors’, our f irst mention must be of Moses. 29 He is then followed by the writers of the books of the Old30 and New 31 Testaments. With respect to the Old Testament, Isidore recalls the tripartition between books of history, precepts, and prophecy.32 Finally, Isidore points out the Christian authors, all of whom are chroniclers.33 Isidore points out that the first of the so-called pagan historians was Darius the Phrygian,34 whom he assumed to be a contemporary of the Trojan War (but the text of the De excidio Trojæ historia dates probably from the end of fifth century AD), followed by Herodotus and Pherecydes. Isidore believed that the latter was either a contemporary of Pythagoras (before Herodotus) or a contemporary of Ezra (after Herodotus).35 Among the Latins are Sallust and Livy,36 as well as Justin.37 Finally, he also mentions a historiographer named Alexander.38 6 – The question of the unity of the historia At the beginning of the fourth century, Eusebius of Caesarea distinguished between historia in the classical sense (political and military) and ekklesiastikè historia. In doing so, he separated two historical domains and two traditions of history.39 The unity of historia as a literary genre was called into question for more than a millennium, until the creation of the notion of universal history in Europe. 29 Ibid., 1.42.1 ; 6.2.1. 30 Ibid., 5.39.19 (and Chronica A.D. 626, 168) for the story of Judith; 5.39.20 (and Chronica A.D. 626, 184) for the story of Esther; 5.39.23 (and Chronica A.D. 626, 210) for the second Book of the Maccabees; 6.2.8 and 6.2.10 for the Book of Joshua; 6.2.11 regarding the Book of Malachi; 6.2.11 (and De ecclesiasticis officiis, 1. 12) regarding the Book of Jeremiah. See also De ecclesiasticis officiis, 1.11 regarding the sixteen biblical historical books (Joshua, Judges, Ruth, Kings [4], Paralipomena [2], Ezra [2], Tobias, Esther, Judith and Maccabees [2]). 31 Etymologiarum libri, 6.2.48 (Luke and the Acts of the Apostles). 32 Sententiae, 1.18.11: Lex diuina in tribus distinguitur partibus, id est in historia, in praeceptis et in prophetis. Historia est in his quae gesta sunt, praecepta in his quae iussa sunt, prophetia in his quae futura pronuntiata sunt. 33 Ibid., 1.44.4 on Eusebius and Jerome as annalists and historians; in 5.38.6–8 and in Chronica A.D. 626, 1, he gives the names of Julius Africanus, Eusebius, Jerome, Victor of Tunnuna, and himself. 34 Etymologiarum libri 1.42.1. 35 Ibid., 1.42.2; Chronica A.D. 626, 169–169a and 175. 36 Ibid., 1.44.4; Chronica A.D. 626, 225. 37 De natura rerum, 47.1. 38 Etymologiarum libri, 9.2.88. 39 Van Nuffelen, ‘Theology versus Genre?’, pp. 162–175.

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Isidore approached the problem differently. His definition of the field of historia is classical and leaves no room for ecclesiastical history. However, he distinguishes two lists of authors, biblical-Christian and Greco-Roman, and he acknowledges the expression ‘ecclesiastical history’; specifically, Isidore refers to the Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius of Caesarea, as translated by Rufinus.40 As far as we now, unlike in the East, only one work was called this in the West. A similar work existed, but it was known by the name Historia Tripartita and was created by Theodorus Lector from the ecclesiastical stories of Socrates, Sozomen, and Theodoret of Cyrrhus. It was translated from Greek to Latin circa 560 in Vivarium, which was under Cassiodorus’s control at that time; but Isidore did not mention him in his list of ‘our authors’, which names chroniclers and not historians (Orosius and Sulpicius Severus are also missing). Moreover, for Isidore, this ‘ecclesiastical history’ is not a genre of history, but a unique and marginal work. If Eusebius made a clear distinction between classical and ecclesiastical history, then this was less obvious later because of the existence of the Christian Roman Empire under the Theodosians. It is certainly true that the same facts could be discussed in different histories, as was the case in Constantinople in the fifth and sixth centuries. But from Julius Africanus onwards, the Chronicon became the best solution to tackling both political and religious aspects together. In Isidore’s work, the term sacra Scriptura is mentioned about thirty times while the term historia sacra is absent. For him, historia as a method of transmitting information is unitary, as well as the result of this method, which reveals data from secular and sacred authors concerning the memorable realities of the past. For Isidore, from the perspective of writing the past, history is the conventional genre for narrating kingdoms. Moreover, only the Chronicon, which combines political and religious information, makes it possible to deal with all aspects.

Possible hermeneutical readings of biblical historia in Isidore’s works The question of the modes of reading the Scriptures forms the second main context of Isidore’s reflection on historia. The latter distinguishes three meanings of Scripture:41 the historian’s meaning (or literal meaning, i.e. 40 Etymologiarum libri, 7.9.19. 41 Of the three (Origen, Jerome, Saint Gregory the Great, Isidore) or four (Augustine, Cassian) ancient meanings of the Scripture, de Lubac, Exégèse médiévale.

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according to the letter of the historia); the tropological (or moral) meaning; and the mystical (or spiritual) meaning,42 which refers to three actions of the spirit: trusting a reported truth (that of the Ten Commandments); interpreting (Sarah and Hagar as figures of both Testaments); and understanding (the meaning of the Song of Songs, which applies to the relationship of the soul or the Church to God). As we have seen, the first meaning is guaranteed by the historical value of the authors of the Bible. The second meaning, which Isidore calls figurative43 (and which we call typological, the past being the figure or type of the present), derives from the Jewish pesher attested in Qumran, where the historia of a biblical text was updated by giving it a contemporary meaning. Since the New Testament, it has thus been possible to attribute the meaning of an Old Testament text to Christ or the Church. Isidore gives examples of this, particularly in De fide catholica contra Iudaeos, whose purpose was obviously to reread the biblical text from a Christian point of view. 44 The third meaning, which Isidore also calls allegorical, 45 is inspired by the classical tradition, in particular of Alexandria. It aims to go beyond the literal meaning of the historia of the narrative by giving it a higher meaning46 and Isidore offers an example of with respect to Abraham. 47 This approach can be combined with the contrast between the apparent poverty of the style, or even the mediocrity of the biblical narrative, and the richness and elevation of potential interpretations. 48 Besides typological or allegorical readings, another way of affirming the unity of the divine plan and that of the Scriptures was the argument for the fulfilment of the Old Testament prophecies in the events reported by the 42 Sententiae, 1.18.12: 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. Ergo sic historiae oportet fidem tenere, ut eam et moraliter debeamus interpretare, et spiritaliter intellegere. See also De differentiis rerum siue Differentiae theologicae uel spiritales (Liber differentiarum II), 40; De fide catholica contra Iudaeos, 1.20.3 and 2.20.2. 43 De differentiis rerum siue Differentiae theologicae uel spiritales (Liber differentiarum II), 31: In lege quippe res gestae per figuram in significationem futurorum adnuntiabantur, in gratia uero euangelicae ueritatis, quae illic enuntiata fuerunt, explentur. 44 De fide catholica contre Iudaeos, 1.9.13 and 2.20.2. 45 Etymologiarum libri, 6.1.11: Summa autem utriusque Testamenti trifarie distinguitur: id est in historia, in moribus, in allegoria. 46 De fide catholica contra Iudaeos, 2.20.2; Etymologiarum libri, 7.6.2; Sententiae, 1.19.6. 47 Allegoriae Ex Veteri Testamento, 21: Tres angeli ad eum venientes divinam historialem insinuant Trinitatem. 48 Sententiae, 1.18.4.

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evangelists. 49 Isidore does not discuss the links between the fulfilment of the prophecies and the types of exegesis. At the end of the fourth century, the School of Antioch distinguished between prophecies already fulfilled – those, historical, concerning Israel, or those, messianic, fulfilled in the person of Jesus Christ – and eschatological prophecies, which were still to be fulfilled. Around 450, Quodvultdeus of Carthage made a similar distinction in his Liber promissionum et praedictorum Dei, albeit in a different context, an apocalyptic expectation linked to the end of the Roman Empire in the West. These debates were no longer relevant to Isidore. Thus, the historia of the Scriptures was susceptible to various readings and elicited several meanings, which do not, however, detract from the overall meaning of divine revelation. This is a significant difference with secular historia, which can only be read as historialiter.

The aim of historia In Isidore, we can distinguish three main purposes of historia: 1 – The usefulness of historia In Etymologies, Book I, Chapter 43 (De utilitate historiae), Isidore recalls that the usefulness of history, which preserves the memory of past events, is to allow the experience of previous generations to be taught in the present.50 Here we find Cicero’s uncited intuition of historia as magistra uitae.51 It should be noted that Isidore makes this reflection about the historia gentium. The purpose is educational and aims to justify the reading secular historians by Christians, even clerics or monks. 2 – The uses of historia In the Etymologies, when Isidore refers to historia, it is always to link the origo of a word to a reality. His etymological method is therefore primarily historical, and this explains both his insistence on historia as a guarantor of the veracity of the realities reported, thanks to the value of the historian’s testimony, and his will to justify a Christian use of classical historians. 49 De ecclesiasticis officiis, 2.24; De fide catholica contre Iudaeos, 1.38.1; Etymologiarum libri, 6.19.11. 50 Etymologiarum libri, 1.43.1: Historiae gentium non inpediunt legentibus in his quae utilia dixerunt. Multi enim sapientes praeterita hominum gesta ad institutionem praesentium historiis indiderunt, siquidem et per historiam summa retro temporum annorum que supputatio conprehenditur, et per consulum regum que successum multa necessaria perscrutantur. 51 Cicero, De oratore, 2.36.

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A – Historia as guarantor of ethnonyms and toponyms One of the essential functions Isidore’s historia is to make it possible to know the origin of the proper names of peoples or places. The origo of the name is frequently to be found in that of the founder, such as for the Assyrians or the Hebrews.52 Similarly, a person’s name explains the name of the Volsci people,53 of the Island of Paros,54 or of Messapia.55 And Greek etymology enlightens us about the name of the Umbri.56 B – Historia as guarantor of the realities of Scripture For Isidore, what is reported in the divine Scriptures is obviously true, but human testimony sometimes confirms it in an autonomous way. This concordist approach to the crossing of sources, already present in Flavius Josephus’s work and later taken up by Eusebius of Caesarea, is evident in Isidore’s work on the remains of Noah’s Ark.57 C – Historia as guarantor of the wonders of nature Because the historian is a direct witness, his or her account makes it possible to guarantee strange or wonderful facts.58 These testimonies can be old or recent, and travellers, geographers, or ethnographers are also investigators of knowledge. The authority of these witnesses extends to those who scrupulously transmit this information, which explains the value of the writings of Pliny the Elder,59 master of historia naturalis, of a historian like Justin who is interested in physical geography,60 or historiographers who compile the true and ancient accounts of others. But a historiographer or commentator who works on previous written documents, rather than conveying personal experience, is more likely to report an invented or false fact. Isidore thus reports information61 that refers to an archaic cosmos (the vault of heaven leaning on the earth in its confines) and not to the classical spherical cosmos that he takes on in De natura rerum. But his mention of historiographers indicates a critical distance. Indeed, the historian, like the geographer, must judge the value of the information transmitted. 52 Etymologiarum libri, 9.2.38. 53 Ibid., 9.2.88. 54 Ibid., 14.6.29. 55 Ibid., 15.1.58. 56 Ibid., 9.2.87 used again in 14.4.21. 57 Ibid., 14.8.5. 58 Ibid., 11.3.9. 59 Ibid., 12.2.11. 60 De natura rerum, 47.1. 61 Etymologiarum libri, 15.1.70: Olisipona ab Vlixe est condita et nuncupata; quo loco, sicut historiographi dicunt, caelum a terra et maria distinguuntur a terris.

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D – Historia as guarantor of the origin of things and words Another function of historia is to explain the origin of a fact and not only its name, for example that of the ludi equestrian games.62 But historia can also provide the raison d’être of Germanic63 or Latin terms like agger64 or tempestas.65 Except in very rare cases, Isidore does not specify a particular source, merely pointing out ‘the history’, ‘the stories’, or ‘a historian’. He refers to a common and obvious knowledge, transmitted by centuries of scholarly tradition, which has become unverifiable but which is supposed to be true, because the only guarantee of a historian’s reputation is to testify to real facts. 3 – The purpose of writing the historia Isidore not only reflected on historia, he also wrote historical works, including a Chronicon in three forms66 (the version of 615–616, that of 626, and the abridged version in Etymologies V, 39) and the stories of the Germanic peoples who resided in Hispania:67 Historia Gothorum; De origine Gothorum; Historia Wandalorum; and Historia Sueborum. These two genres of writing are very different since the Chronicon aims to describe all the times since Adam’s creation by selecting a certain number of military, political, or cultural events, but also religious aspects and prodigious events, while the stories are continuous narratives structured primarily above all by the actions of kings, even if they can be linked in a more general, also biblical, context. The biographical, hagiographical, or polemical dimensions of other Isidorian works concerning the past – i.e. the De uiris illustribus,68 the De ortu et obitu patrum,69 and the De haeresibus, present in Etymologiae VIII, 4–670 –are not compatible with the classical, political, and military definition

62 Etymologiarum libri, 18.27.2. 63 Ibid., 19.1.21. 64 Ibid., 15.16.7. 65 Ibid., 13.11.20. 66 Martin, ed., Isidori Hispalensis Chronicon, pp. 14–15. See also Isidore of Seville, Chronique universelle, original Latin text and French translation by Desgrugillers-Billard. 67 On this theme, see Goffart, The Narrators of Barbarian History. 68 Codoñer, El ‘De uiris illustribus’ de Isidoro de Sevilla; Isidore de Séville, Le livre des hommes illustres, original Latin text and French translation by Desgrugillers-Billard. 69 Chaparro Gómez, Isidorus Hispalensis. De ortu et obitu Patrum. See Inglebert, ‘Renommée et sainteté’, pp. 347–358. 70 On ‘l’histoire des hérésies’ in Late Antiquity, see Inglebert, Interpretatio Christiana, pp. 393–461.

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of historia as adopted by Isidore himself.71 Indeed, not all narratives about the past are historia. Both the Chronicon and the History of the Goths glorify the Visigothic and Catholic Kingdom of Toledo as the triple heir to Greek–Roman classical culture, the dignity of the Germanic peoples, and Christian Orthodoxy. By integrating more secular elements into his description of the past than, say, Prosper’s Chronicon, Isidore presents the Goths as descendants of Magog,72 thus rendering them one of the rare peoples to have existed since the origins of Noahide humanity,73 or as heirs to the Scythians,74 founders of the first kingdom, preceding the Egyptians, Assyrians, and Sicyonians, the latter being the oldest ancestors of the Romans according to Varro. Whether through sacred genealogy or political history, the Goths appeared more ancient and more prestigious than the Romans. By specifying the temporal relations between the Hispanic Goths and the Roman Empire – in aspects of both its previous imperial but pagan history and the existence of contemporary Christian Romania ruled from Constantinople, but suspected of heresy and subjected to Sasanian invasions – Isidore used the Goths’ victories in Spain and their religious orthodoxy to present them as superior to the Romans of Constantinople. Given the context of the time, it was not necessarily propaganda,75 and their conversion to Catholicism justified the subsequent counting of the Visigoth kings’ reigns in years and qualifying their power as imperium.

Conclusions For Isidore, historia is a true story because it is neither an invention nor a lie. An historical event is one both worthy of memory and reported by a trustworthy witness – an investigating historian or a transmitting historiographer, alive or dead, whose authority guarantees the existence of the described realities. Historia narratives concern nature, the human past, or the sacred past as reported by the Holy Scriptures. The unity of historia as a method of witnessing realities leads to a certain and true account of particular elements of the past, whether sacred or profane. This allows a 71 Etymologiarum libri, I, 41.4. 72 De origine Gothorum, 1. 73 Nagengast, Gothorum florentissima gens, p. 213. 74 Historia Gothorum, 1. 75 Inglebert, ‘Isidore de Séville en son monde’, pp. 109–122.

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better understanding of some of the Isidorian tituli bibliothecae.76 Moreover, the association between the Catholic Church and Visigothic royalty also explains why ecclesiastical history is not autonomous. There are, however, two limits to historia. Firstly, historia gives access to true but fragmentary knowledge; that is, it is only memorable knowledge, which does not allow us to know all the things of the past or all the things of nature: the overall meaning of the world necessarily escapes its grasp. The second limit of historia relates to the understanding of the meaning of the divine Scriptures. Indeed, historia’s literal interpretation of the sacred text is neither the only nor the most important understanding, breaking the classical link between the narrative and the reality described. For a Christian, only a typological or allegorical reading makes it possible to understand the higher meanings of the biblical text, which are based on the spirit and not on the letter. Isidore, a theorist and historia practitioner, developed a remarkably coherent reflection on the subject, defending its unity, usefulness, and uses. This makes Isidore of Seville the Latin counterpart to Eusebius of Caesarea who, like him, was neither a great theologian nor a great exegete. The two bishops shared an understanding that it was necessary to distinguish erudition and truth from historia, on the one hand, and hermeneutics and the meaning of the sacred text on the other. The latter was always multiple and debatable, because of the various possible exegeses of the Scripture, unless it was confirmed by a council that spoke orthodoxy and thus froze the discussion. But few points were settled in this way. Moreover, the idea of a scientia christiana based solely on the Scriptures, defended by some (Epiphanius of Salamis, Philastrius, Philippe of Side, Constantine of Antioch known as Cosmas Indicopleustes), was rejected by a majority. This left much of the meaning of the world uncertain. For if the divine soteriological project was known through revelation and the Incarnation, the rest was not. Certainly, Christian exegesis and rhetoric were there to try to conceal the massive fact that the meaning of the world was unclear, just as much and perhaps more so than at the time of the certainties of the Roman Empire and paganism. But all these clerical attempts to give meaning to the world remained debatable. While historia offered only limited access to how we understood the world or the past, it allowed the transmission of information that guaranteed a 76 Carmen 1, v. 6–7: Quod meditem studii nil superesse mihi/Explicui historias et percurri omnia legis. Carmen 12, v. 1–2: Historias rerum et transacti tempora saecli/Condita membranis haec simul arca gerit.

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certain number of facts. It therefore founded a fragmented knowledge, sometimes judged as useless scholarship, but recognised by all as true because it related to real events. And it could be used to serve two purposes, both of which Isidore employed. The first, and most important, purpose was to connect words and things with their original meaning. Knowing the origin of words not only satisfied curiositas (which was blameworthy for a Christian), but also allowed a better understanding of the original project of creation, before it was disfigured by the oblivion born of sin and time. This also avoided the distorted use of terms and the poetic and sophistic possibilities of invention and lies. However, to know something’s origins, it was necessary to have recourse to historians, both secular and sacred. Much thought has been given to the coherence of Isidore’s etymological approach.77 Emphasis was placed on its grammatical dimension; it was seen either as a retreat from cultural exigency, adapted to a time when the rhetorical model of paideai was no longer socially dominant, or as an original means of producing a synthesis of knowledge in a Christian mould whose unity was guaranteed by the Creation of the one God. But it must be remembered that this unity was inaccessible to humans. On the other hand, it was possible to gather all the true knowledge about real things. If we are interested in Isidore’s method, the importance of historia is central to the etymological approach, since association is the only way to connect a thing and its name with its origins. As a literary tradition, historia – alongside experience and revelation – was a way of accessing the meaning of the world. The second purpose of historia was to allow people to write about the past by collecting, sorting, and prioritising known data. The aim was to erect textual monuments, recalling the deeds of kings and the memorable events of humans. Only the Christian scholar who knew the realities of the secular and sacred past and God’s soteriological plan could understand any of the meanings of the present. Isidore was thus able to describe the history of the Visigothic and Catholic kingdom, the best heir to the biblical truth transmitted to Israel, the profane culture created by Rome, and the superior glory of an original people. For Isidore, historia was a scholarly tradition, a neutral method of transmitting past, present, or eternal information from authors whom Christians called ‘ours’ or ‘outsiders’. Without sacred and secular historians, without witnesses of the real things of the world or the past of humans, there would have been no De natura rerum, no Etymologies, no Chronicon, no History of 77 In particular Fontaine, ‘Cohérence et originalité de l’étymologie isidorienne’, pp. 113–144.

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the Goths. Historia founded a certain but partial knowledge of the universe and humanity’s past. This truth, albeit profane, was good by definition and thus justified the Etymologies project. But, of course, the overall meaning of things belonged only to God.

Works cited Andrés Sanz, María Adelaida, Isidorus Hispalensis episcopus. Liber differentiarum (II), CCSL CXI A (Turnhout: Brepols, 2006). Cazier, Pierre, Isidorus Hispalensis. Sententiae, CCSL CXI (Turnhout: Brepols, 1998). Chaparro Gómez, César, Isidorus Hispalensis. De ortu et obitu Patrum (Paris: Les Belles-Lettres, 1985). Codoñer, Carmen, El ‘De uiris illustribus’ de Isidoro de Sevilla (Salamanca: Consejo superior de investigaciones científicas, [1964] 1997). Codoñer, Carmen, Isidoro de Sevilla, Diferencias, Libro I (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1992). de Lubac, Henri, Exégèse médiévale. Les quatre sens de l’Écriture (Paris: Aubier, 1959–1964). Domínguez del Val, Ursicino, Historia de la antigua literatura latina hispanocristiana, Tomo III, San Isidoro de Sevilla (Madrid: Fundacion universitaria espanola, 1998). Drews, Wolfram, Juden und Judentum bei Isidor von Sevilla. Studien zum Traktat De fide catholica contra Iudaeos (Berlin: Dunker & Humblot, 2001). Fontaine, Jacques, Traité de la nature (Bordeaux: Féret et fils, 1960). Fontaine, Jacques, ‘Cohérence et originalité de l’étymologie isidorienne’, in Homenaje a Eleuterio Elorduy, S.J., ed. by Félix Rodriguez and Juan Iturriaga (Bilbao: Universidad de Deusto, 1978), pp. 113–144. Goffart, Walter, The Narrators of Barbarian History (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1988). Inglebert, Hervé, Interpretatio Christiana. Les mutations des savoirs (cosmographie, géographie, ethnographie, histoire) dans l’Antiquité chrétienne (30–630 après J.-C.) (Paris, 2001). Inglebert, Hervé, ‘Renommée et sainteté. Historiographie et hagiographie dans les chroniques tardo-antiques et dans le De ortu et obitu patrum d’Isidore de Séville’, Salesiana 67 (2005), pp. 347–358. Inglebert, Hervé, ‘Isidore de Séville en son monde’, Antiquité tardive 23 (2015), 109–122. Isidore de Séville, Chronique universelle, texte original latin et traduction française par Nathalie Desgrugillers-Billard.

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Isidore de Séville, Le livre des hommes illustres, texte original latin et traduction française par Nathalie Desgrugillers-Billard (Clermont-Ferrand: Éditions Paléo, 2009). Lawson, C., Sancti Isidori Episcopi Hispalensis De ecclesiasticis officiis, CCSL CXII (Turnhout: Brepols, 1989). Martin, José Carlos (ed.), Isidori Hispalensis Chronicon, CSCL CXII (Turnhout: Brepols, 2003). Nagengast, Ulrike, Gothorum florentissima gens. Gothengeschichte als Heilsgeschichte bei Isidor von Sevilla (Frankfurt am Main: P. Lang, 2011). Rodríguez Alonso, Cristóbal, Las historias de los Godos, Vandalos y Suevos de Isidoro de Sevilla (León: Centro de estudio e investigación San Isidoro, 1975). Van Nuffelen, Peter, ‘Theology versus Genre? The Universalism of Christian Historiography in Late Antiquity’, in Historiae Mundi. Studies in Universal Historiography, ed. by Peter Liddel and Andrew Fear (London: Duckworth, 2010), pp. 162–175. Trisoglio, Francesco, Isidoro. La nature delle cose (Roma: Città nueva, 2001).

About the author Hervé Inglebert is Professor at Paris Nanterre University. He is Co-director of the Nouvelle Clio collection and Director of the journal Antiquité tardive. His numerous publications on ancient and late antiquity historiography, such as Les Romains chrétiens face à l’histoire de Rome or Interpretatio Christiana, are references on this subject.

9. Bishops and Their Biographers: The Praxis of History Writing in Visigothic Iberia Jamie Wood

Abstract Historiography in Visigothic Iberia was intimately interconnected with episcopal power. This chapter explores the central role that bishops played in the historiography of the period, both as authors and as subjects within the histories. The centrality of bishops to the historiography of the period is further illustrated by consideration of what historians failed to pass on (or treated very briefly), from the local disputes in which they engaged in their bishoprics to the moments that they became involved in disputes with the monarchy or with other bishops. In general, the purely historiographical writings obscure historical instances of disputation over episcopal off ice at the local level, except in a few limited cases where the aim was to establish the righteousness of the Nicene position. Keywords: bishops, Isidore of Seville, biography, hagiography, chronicles

Introduction Some of the historians of Visigothic Iberia had a well-developed appreciation of the boundaries of the historiographical genres within which they were writing and may even have had their own philosophies of history.1 Isidore of Seville’s theoretical writings on history, for instance, clearly had some 1 Bassett, ‘The Use of History in the Chronicon of Isidore of Seville’, pp. 278–292; Reydellet, ‘Les intentions idéologiques’, pp. 363–400.

Ubric Rabaneda, P. (ed.), Writing History in Late Antique Iberia: Historiography in Theory and Practice from the Fourth to the Seventh Century. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2022 doi 10.5117/9789463729413_ch09

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influence on his practice as an historian.2 Yet, it is necessary to extend our analysis beyond purely theoretical matters if we are to understand better how and why Isidore and his peers in sixth- and seventh-century Hispania wrote about the past. If they wanted to see how others had written about the past and what they had written, Visigothic-era writers also had access to a wide range of historiographical sources, produced within the Iberian Peninsula and beyond, in addition to the theoretical works of Isidore and his predecessors.3 The historical productions of the period cannot easily be separated from the immediate historical contexts in which they were written either. John of Biclarum wrote his Chronicle to celebrate the conversion of the Goths to Nicene Christianity at the Third Council of Toledo in 589. 4 Isidore of Seville rewrote his Chronicle and Histories in the aftermath of the expulsion of the Byzantines from Hispania in the mid-620s.5 Julian of Toledo composed the History of King Wamba to record Wamba’s triumph over the rebel Paul in the mid-670s.6 It is also imperative to try to gain insight into the historian’s practice by considering such issues as their use of sources, changes to their accounts of history over time, and comparison to their other writings. Theories of history should therefore be considered alongside the (shifting) historical context in which the historian operated, and the author’s practice when writing history. It is only by considering these different elements of the historian’s craft alongside one another that it is possible to come close to grasping the richness of historiography in Late Antique and early medieval Iberia. This chapter focuses on the depiction of bishops in the historical writings of Visigothic Iberia as a means of understanding how historians in the period balanced the varying demands of theory, context, and practice. The first part of the chapter considers theory; that is, the moral purpose of history as outlined by Isidore and his emphasis on the leadership role that bishops were meant to play in society. The second and third parts of the chapter each address the relationship between historical context and historiographical practice by examining the depiction of bishops at two different scale levels: the kingdom (part two) and the city (part three). Of course, the distinction between the royal centre and the civic locality is a somewhat false one because the two were closely interlinked; indeed, 2 Wood, The Politics of Identity in Visigothic Spain, pp. 65-132. 3 Hillgarth, ‘Historiography in Visigothic Spain’, pp. 261–311. 4 Álvarez García, ‘Tiempo, religión y política’, pp. 9–30. 5 Wood, The Politics of Identity in Visigothic Spain, pp. 147-190. 6 Frighetto, ‘Memória, história e identidades’, pp. 50–73.

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some of our histories were written as part of efforts to reconcile potential tension between Visigothic royal power, focused on Toledo, and great cities elsewhere in the peninsula.7 Throughout parts two and three, I consider the uses that our historians made of their sources, their ability to access information about past events, and compare their writings with those of others in order to gain a fresh perspective on how and why accounts might have differed. I argue that the Isidorian vision of history – and historiography – did find expression in his practice as an historian. For instance, I show that he was remarkably disciplined in avoiding unnecessary repetition between his different writings, which may be a result of his awareness of genre boundaries. Yet, genre was not all-important because Isidore’s vision of historiography as an essentially moral project meant that, at times, he obscured episodes that were potentially uncomfortable for author and audience. Comparison of Isidore’s writings with other historical and hagiographical works from the period gives us an insight into the regional and local histories that centralisers such as Isidore sought to obscure. Such comparisons show us that, just as Isidore varied his accounts according to shifting political circumstances, so too did those who were writing history at a local level: history was written – and rewritten over time – as part of the struggle of elites to construct usable pasts for themselves and their communities. It was not solely a literary exercise.

Isidore of Seville on history’s moral purpose and the bishop’s moral mission Isidore of Seville espoused a rich theory of history across a number of writings, as is examined in detail by Hervé Inglebert elsewhere in this volume. 8 In this chapter, I will therefore focus on just one element of Isidore’s theoretical works on history, the idea that history should serve a moral purpose. According to Isidore’s Etymologies, the utility of history (De utilitate historiae) lay in the fact that it enabled wise men to instruct the present through examples: Histories of peoples are no impediment to those who wish to read useful works, for many wise people have imparted the past deeds of humankind 7 8

Collins, ‘Mérida and Toledo’, pp. 189–219. See Inglebert’s chapter in this volume, pp. 139-154.

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in histories for the instruction of the living. Through history they handle a final reckoning back through seasons and years, and they investigate many indispensable matters through the succession of consuls and kings.9

On this issue, Isidore was not operating in a vacuum because, in addition to the stress that Graeco-Roman writers laid on the didactic potential of history, other historians from Late Antique and early medieval Iberia also emphasised its potential for teaching.10 One of the most striking features of Isidore’s historical writings is their brevity. Despite having a wide range of sources – historiographical and otherwise – at his disposal, Isidore’s historical writings are all concise in the extreme, their lack of ‘facts’ and narrative detail frustrating generations of scholars.11 Isidorian historiographical brevity did not pertain solely to the distant past, but also to his own day – to events and people of which he had personal knowledge, as we shall see in the next part of this chapter. Brief writing was valued because, by enabling the author to focus on what was most important in any particular subject, it aided communication with his various audiences. When deployed in historical works, therefore, brevity acted to further underline the didactic thrust of Isidore’s moral argument.12 By presenting history in a concise manner, including through the exclusion of material that did not fit and the juxtaposition of short snippets of information taken from a range of different sources, Isidore was able to position the Visigoths at the centre of his account of world history, for instance, as a new chosen people in succession to the Romans and the Jews.13 While Visigothic kings (and Roman Emperors) are at the centre of Isidore’s accounts of the past in his Histories and Chronicle, scholars have shown how his vision of the functioning of contemporary society was predicated on the idea that religious leaders, especially bishops, should play a key role.14 Mullins sums up the key characteristics of Isidore’s ideal bishop: ‘The 9 Isidore, Etymologies 1.43: Historiae gentium non inpediunt legentibus in his quae utilia dixerunt. Multi enim sapientes praeterita hominum gesta ad institutionem praesentium historiis indiderunt, siquidem et per historiam summa retro temporum annorumque supputatio conprehenditur, et per consulum regumque successum multa necessaria perscrutantur. The English translations of the texts come from the editions cited in the bibliography. 10 Leonard and Wood, ‘History-Writing and Education in Late Antique’. 11 Thompson, The Goths in Spain, p. 7: Isidore: ‘could hardly have told us less, except by not writing at all’. 12 Wood, ‘Brevitas in the Historical Writings’, pp. 37–53. 13 Wood, ‘Religiones and gentes in Isidore of Seville’s Chronica Maiora’, pp.125–168. 14 Stocking, Bishops, Councils and Consensus in the Visigothic Kingdom; Cazier, Isidore de Séville, pp. 213-234.

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two most essential characteristics of the bishop’s private life are piety and learning; the most necessary feature of his public life is concern for the flock entrusted to him’.15 Texts such as the De ecclesiasticis officiis and the Sententiae position bishops at the centre of the moral economy of Visigothic Hispania, while the church councils over which Isidore presided articulated a vision of bishops working alongside the royal government to ensure the smooth running of society.16 All of the writers of history in Visigothic Iberia, including Isidore himself, were bishops and bishops wrote many of the sources on which they drew. It seems likely, therefore, that bishops were the wise men (sapientes) that Isidore thought should instruct his present. Indeed, the two classes of people that he saw as having potential to instruct their followers by example, were bishops and kings. On kings, Isidore has the following to say in the Sententiae: Rulers either edify or subvert the life of their subjects by their own behaviour, and therefore it is not right that a ruler should sin, lest by the unpunished license of his sin he establish a pattern of sinning. […] Just as some good people imitate the deeds of their rulers that are pleasing to God, so also many are easily led astray by their evil deeds.17

Isidore’s Histories and Chronicle were structured chronologically according to the reigns of Visigothic kings and Roman emperors respectively and the episodes that are recounted in these texts thus appear very much like historical examples of good and bad conduct by rulers.18 Earlier in the Sententiae Isidore makes a similar point about the edificatory role of bishops: An ecclesiastical teacher ought to illuminate both by doctrine as well as by his life. Teaching without the example of one’s life produces arrogances, one’s life without teaching is useless. The preaching of a priest [bishop] 15 Mullins, The Spiritual Life According to Saint Isidore of Seville, pp.151–159, at 159. 16 For example, Isidore, De ecclesiasticis officiis 2.5 and Sententiae 3.33–46. On the Fourth Council to Toledo, see: Velázquez, ‘Pro patriae gentisque Gothorum statu’, pp. 161–217. On cooperation between the bishops and royal government, see also: Koon and Wood, ‘Unity from Disunity’, pp. 793–808. 17 Isidore, Sententiae 3.50.6–7: Reges uitam subditorum facile exemplis suis uel aedificant, uel subuertunt, ideoque principem non oportet delinquere, ne formam peccandi faciat peccati eius inpunita licentia. […] Sicut nonnulli bonorum principum Deo placita facta sequuntur, ita facile multi praua eorum exempla sectantur. […]. 18 Wood, ‘Isidore of Seville as an Historian’, pp. 171-174.

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should be confirmed by works, so that what he teaches by his word, he might instruct by his example. That teaching is true that is exemplified by the manner of one’s life. For nothing is more odious than if one neglects to show by his works what he teaches by his speech.19

Like rulers, ecclesiastical leaders were meant to play exemplary (and notso-exemplary) roles in histories of sixth- and seventh-century Iberia. Isidore’s De viris illustribus, a catalogue of famous Christians who mostly come from Hispania, focuses on bishops, as part of an effort to raise the historical status of the Iberian episcopacy. 20 Isidore pays particular attention to the career of Leander of Seville, his elder brother and predecessor at Seville, presenting him as archetypal bishop, writing important texts, f ighting heresy, and communicating with other (illustrious) Christians.21 In addition to their role in peopling the Iberian episcopate’s illustrious history, the bishops of the past were used as a means of promoting Isidore’s idealised image of episcopal off ice in the present. The theoretical centrality of bishops to the governance of society was expressed through practical historical examples, in the process reinforcing the moral authority of the episcopacy as both author and object of the past.

Episcopal examples: Crafting the past in Visigothic-era historiography When writing about the bishops of the past, the historians of Visigothic Iberia, mostly bishops themselves, were hardly disinterested observers. Analysis of their differing depictions of historical bishops thus tells us a great deal about the praxis of historiography in the period. A good example is the Chronicle of John of Biclarum, written shortly after the conversion of the Visigoths to Nicene Christianity in 589. Within a text that sometimes

19 Isidore, Sententiae 3.36.1–2: Tam doctrina quam uita clarere debet ecclesiasticus doctor. Namdoctrina sine uita adrogantem reddit, uita sine doctrina inutilem facit. Sacerdotis praedicatio operibus confirmanda est, ita ut, quod docet uerbo, instruat exemplo. Vera est enim illa doctrina quam uiuendi sequitur forma. Namnihil turpius est quam si bonum quod quisque sermone praedicat explere opere neglegat. […] Cf. Sententiae 3.38 on the example of evil priests (De exemplis pravorum sacerdotum). 20 Wood, ‘Playing the Fame Game’, pp. 613–640. 21 Isidore, De viris illustribus 28; Wood, ‘Playing the Fame Game’, pp. 625-628.

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includes more extended narrative, John refers to Masona of Merida and Leander of Seville in the following terms: ‘Masona, Bishop of the church of Merida, was held in high esteem as an exponent of our doctrine’.22 ‘Bishop Leander of Seville was held in high esteem’.23

Isidore’s account of, Leander, his brother and predecessor as Bishop of Seville, is similarly brief in the second redaction of his Chronicle: ‘At this time bishop Leander was considered outstanding in Spain for his knowledge and faith’.24

Martin of Dumium (commonly know as Martin of Braga), also receives minimal attention: ‘At the same time Martin, Bishop of Dumium, preached in Gallaecia in the doctrine of the faith’.25

Concision was viewed as a virtue in chronography and throughout this text Isidore’s chapters on ‘famous’ Christians are of a similarly brief character. These brief entries are therefore entirely consistent with the presentation of exemplary Christians elsewhere in the text and with his theory of history writing. Nonetheless, these two brief entries gave the latter part of the work a more distinctively local tone than the first redaction had possessed. Subtle changes such as this signal a developing Isidorian rhetoric of Iberian exceptionalism.26 Despite their lack of narrative detail, viewed collectively, the chapters on illustrious Christian men in the Chronicle demonstrate the centrality of bishops to the history of the faith, as the following table demonstrates. 22 John of Biclarum, Chronicle 30, s. a. 571: Mausona Emeritensis ecclesie episcopus in nostro dogmate clarus habetur. 23 John of Biclarum, Chronicle 71, s. a. 584: Leander Ispalensis ecclesie episcopus clarus habetur. Leander is also mentioned in John’s description of the Third Council of Toledo (91, s. a. 589). 24 Isidore, Chronicle 408a. 25 Isidore, Chronicle 401d. 26 Wood, The Politics of Identity in Visigothic Spain, pp. 179-188. The greater focus on Iberian matters can also be seen in his depiction of Priscillanism in the second redaction of the Chronicle: at chapter 354 Isidore notes that the heresy was composed in Spain (Priscillianus sui nominis heresim in Spania condidit).

162 Jamie Wood Table 1  Types of famous men in the second redaction of Isidore’s Chronica Maiora Description

Total

Person

episcopus

14

Simon Cleopas of Jerusalem; Ireneus of Lyon; Narcissus of Jerusalem; Cyprian; Ambrose of Milan; Martin of Tours; Augustine; John of Constantinople; Theophilus of Alexandria; Donatus of Epirus; Cyril of Alexandria; Fulgentius; Martin of Dumium; Leander

apostolus unspecified interpres monachus anachorita evangelista presbyter rhetor

7 5 3 2 1 1 1 1

Matthew; Peter (x2); Paul; John (x3) Tertullian; Origen (x2); Athanasius; Hilary Aquila Ponticus; Theodotion of Ephesus; Symmachus Antony (x2) John Mark Jerome Cyprian

While early references to Christians focus on the writings of the apostles and translators27 and suggest an underlying anti-Jewish attitude,28 throughout the later part of the text references to bishops predominate.29 In contrast to the De viris illustribus, which focuses to a large extent on the writings of its subjects,30 no entries after chapter 284 (on Symmachus the fourth translator of scripture, during the reign the Emperor Septimius Severus, r. 193–211) mention any Christian as writing anything. Instead, Isidore stressed the episcopal status, the wisdom and, above all, the orthodoxy of the famous men, as can be seen on Table 2. Table 2  Descriptions of bishops in the second redaction of the Chronica Maiora Person

Chapter

Description

Ireneus of Lyon Narcissus of Jerusalem Cyprian

280 285 310

in doctrina habetur insignis. uirtutibus plurimis celebratur primum rhetor, deinde episcopus martyrio coronatur.

27 Writers: Isidore, Chronicle 242, 244, 263, 259a; translators: 270, 279, 284; 289, 292, 350. 28 For example, positioning entries on Christian writers immediately after negative references to the Jews in order to emphasise that Christian theology had superseded that of the Jews: Isidore, Chronicle 242, 270. 29 The number of bishops would be increased if we added those figures whose status is not specified by Isidore, but who we know to have been bishops (Augustine and Fulgentius); see also: Isidore, Chronicle 263, 301, 308, 393, 350, 378, 381, 397a. 30 Rouse and Rouse, ‘Bibliography before Print’, pp. 133–134.

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Bishops and Their Biogr aphers

Person

Chapter

Description

Ambrose of Milan Martin of Tours Augustine John of Constantinople and Theophilus of Alexandria Donatus of Epirus Cyril of Alexandria Fulgentius Martin of Dumium Leander of Seville

353 355 (369) (370)

in catholicorum dogmate claruit multis miraculorum signis effulsit doctrinae scientia insignis habetur inlustres episcopi praedicantur

366 375 391 401d 408a

uirtutibus insignis est habitus Insignis est habitus fidei et scientia claruit in doctrina fidei praedicatur scientia et fide insignis habetur

The focus on the orthodoxy of these famous men may have been intended to counter what Isidore saw as the historical threat posed by heresy to the integrity of Christianity.31 This feature of the work reflects his belief in the central role that bishops, acting corporately in councils, should play in governing society and combating heresy.32 Church councils thus feature prominently in the Chronicle as moments of collective episcopal action,33 while there are other examples of episcopal corporatism elsewhere in the text.34 These depictions of bishops, albeit brief, are entirely in keeping with Isidore’s broader articulation of the role of the bishop. The brevity of these chapters in the Chronicle seems to have been a deliberate choice on Isidore’s part. For example, Martin and Leander, who had been added to the second redaction of the text are discussed in more detail in biographical notices in the De viris illustribus (as does John of Biclarum).35 These sketches are largely consistent with the short notices in the chronicles – they are certainly presented as illustrious Christians

31 Wood, ‘Catholic Heretics and Heretical Catholics’, pp. 17–50. 32 Stocking, Bishops, Councils and Consensus in the Visigothic Kingdom, pp. 7, 27, 35, 41, 60, 75, 114, 120, 139, 143–144. For example, Isidore, Etymologies 6.16.1: ‘The canons of Councils. Canon is a Greek word; in Latin ‘measuring rod’ (regula). A regula is so called because it draws ‘in a straight line’, and never goes astray. Some say a regula is so called because it rules, or because it offers a norm of living correctly, or because it corrects anything distorted or wicked.’ [‘DE CANONIBUS CONCILIORUM. Canon autem Graece, Latine regula nuncupatur. Regula autem dicta quod recte ducit, nec aliquando aliorum trahit. Alii dixerunt regulam dictam vel quod regat, vel quod normam recte vivendi praebeat, vel quod distortum pravumque quid corrigat.’] 33 Isidore, Chronicle 331 (Nicaea), 357 (Constantinople), 374 (Carthage), 378 (Ephesus), 381 (Chalcedon). On the selectivity of Isidore’s history of conciliar governance and his focus on Chalcedon, see Wood, ‘Religiones and gentes in Isidore of Seville’s Chronica Maiora’, pp. 125–168. 34 For example Isidore, Chronicle 263, 397a. 35 Isidore, De viris illustribus 22 (Martin), 28 (Leander), 31 (John).

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engaging in a range of evangelical, pastoral, theological and other activities. In addition, Isidore is careful to list their writings, as in the chapter on Martin: Of whose [works] I have certainly read myself a book on the distinctions of the four virtues, and another volume of letters in which he encourages the emendation of lifestyle and the monastic life of faith, the earnestness of prayer, the distribution of alms, and above everything the worship of the virtues of all piety.36

So, aside from the simple fact that he and Leander (a contemporary of John, who he had presumably met) were siblings, Isidore clearly knew much more about these individuals than he shared in the Chronicle. Isidore had access to other sources of information that would have told him about his illustrious men. For example, he would have known about Masona, apparently not famous enough to make the illustrious cut, from reading John of Biclarum’s Chronicle, one of his main sources for the late sixth century. More importantly, Isidore’s role in editing church council canons would have meant that he knew that Masona subscribed to the acts of the Third Council of Toledo together with Leander (he was the first bishop to sign, immediately after Reccared, and before Euphimius of Toledo, who was followed by Leander). He would also have known that Martin of Braga subscribed to the First Council of Braga and presided over the Second.37 In case he had forgotten what his brother had done thirty or so years before, he would have known that Leander delivered the homily celebrating the conversion at the Third Council of Toledo and that he presided over – and hence subscribed first to – the First Council of Seville in 590.38 Another good example is Eutropius, who was abbot of the monastery of Servitanum and later Bishop of Valencia. John of Biclarum devotes a chapter 36 Isidore, De viris illustribus 22: Cuius quidem ego ipse legi librum de differentiis quattuor uirtutum, et aliud volumen epistolarum in quipus hortatur uitae emendationem et conuersationem fidei, orationis instantiam, elemosynarum distributionem, et super omnia cultum uirtutum omnium pietatem. 37 Martínez Díez, La colección canónica hispana, I, pp. 206–218 for the ‘Isidorian rescension’, the existence of which is largely based on analysis of an eighth-century manuscript from Vienne, Oesterreichische Nationalbibliothek, codex 411 (jur. can. 41) and which contains the canons of both councils of Braga (see pp. 104–109). 38 For conciliar acta, see Martínez Díez and Rodríguez, La colección canónica hispana, 6 vols. (for ‘national’ councils) and Vives, Concilios visigóticos e hispano-romanos (for provincial councils). Although Masona subscribed first to the acts of a council that was held in Toledo in 597, followed later in the list by John of Gerona (John of Biclarum became Bishop of Gerona later in his career), who also subscribed to the Second Council of Barcelona in 599, these councils were probably not part of the Isidorian rescension of the Hispana.

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to him under the year 583: ‘Abbot Eutropius of the monastery of Servitanum, a disciple of the holy Donatus, was held in high esteem’39 and later mentions his role alongside Leander in managing the Third Council of Toledo in 589.40 Despite his important role, Eutropius is not mentioned in the Chronicle and the conciliar activity is ignored in the De viris illustribus, which focuses instead on two letters of advice that he wrote to other bishops. 41 His wide reading, including in texts that he used frequently as sources elsewhere in his corpus, like the Chronicle of John of Biclarum, editing of conciliar canons and personal experience meant that Isidore knew much more about bishops such as Masona of Merida and Eutropius of Valencia than he included in the De viris illustribus and the Chronicle. These decisions may relate to Isidore’s own preferences as an historian, his interest in emphasising Leander’s preeminence perhaps leading him to downplay Eutropius’s importance at the council in Toledo. Ignoring Masona, first signatory and therefore senior bishop at Toledo, served the same purpose and may even have been related to some insecurity on the part of Seville at the status of Merida, historically the most important city in Hispania. 42 Other elements of the careers of Isidore’s illustri also help to explain the ways that they were presented in different parts of his corpus. For example, John is said to have suffered exile at the hands of the Arian King of the Visigoths Leovigild, while the conjunction of reference to Leander’s exile with description of his anti-Arian activities suggests that he too was a victim of Leovigild’s actions against the Nicene episcopate.43 According to Isidore, then, the illustriousness of these bishops derived at least partially from their leadership of Christian communities and consequent suffering at the hands of the Arians through exile. Indeed, scholars have often stressed the connection between Leovigild’s actions against Leander and John and his policies in Merida, which resulted in conflict with Masona, an episodes that will be explored in the final part of this chapter.44 The very scant depictions 39 John of Biclarum, Chronicle 70, s. a. 583: Eutropius abbas monasterii Seruitani discipulus sancti Donati clarus habetur. 40 John of Biclarum, Chronicle 92, s. a. 589: ‘The most important part of the synodal business was in the hands of holy Leander, Bishop of the church of Seville, and Eutropius, most blessed abbot of the monastery of Servitanum’ (Summa tamen sinodalis negocii penes sanctum Leandrum Ispalensis ecclesie episcopum et beatissimum Eutropium monasteri Sirbitani abbatem fuit). 41 Isidore, De viris illustribus 32; he is also mentioned in chapter 29, as the recipient of a letter from Licinianus of Cartagena. 42 Wood, ‘Playing the Fame Game’, pp. 613–640. 43 Isidore, De viris illlustribus 28, 31. On exile in this period, see: Vallejo, ‘Los exilios de católicos y arrianos’, pp. 35–48. 44 Hillgarth, ‘Coins and Chronicles’, pp. 483–508.

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of famous men in Isidore’s histories thus mask more complex processes of conflict and compromise between the bishops of Late Antique Hispania and the Visigothic monarchy, all of which were sifted by Isidore. Aside from the ideological and personal imperatives that led Isidore to craft his account of the episcopal past of Hispania in particular ways, such depictions also point towards his awareness of genre boundaries. 45 Short entries in the Chronicle fitted the most illustrious men into universal time, while the biographies in the De viris illustribus added specific details on the illustri of Visigothic Hispania. The History of the Goths, meanwhile, focused on the Visigoths and largely steered clear of ecclesiastical history. Political considerations may also have played a role because Masona, Leander, and John of Biclarum had all fallen foul of the Arian King Leovigild during the early 580s, while Martin was closely linked to the conversion of the Suevi to Nicene Christianity. Written a generation or two after the conversion of the Visigoths in 587–589, Isidore’s Chronicle and History need not be seen solely as assertions of Nicene supremacy, but there is little doubt that efforts were being made to obscure the amount of conflict that had accompanied the decision to convert. 46 The brevity of Isidore’s micro-descriptions of exemplary Christians in his histories thus masks far more complex social contexts. His efforts to articulate a logic of inevitable Nicene Visigothic triumph meant that he downplayed the extent of disputes between the Visigothic monarchy and local ecclesiastical elites. Leander, Masona, and others were implicated in disputes at least partly due to their episcopal office, which positioned them as leaders within their cities and key representatives charged with interacting with outsiders.47 Yet, the local, smaller-scale social and political contexts in which such bishops operated are obscured by the centralising historiographical narratives of Isidore and John, as is the extent to which these communities – and individuals within them – engaged actively with their own pasts. The final section of this chapter considers how such elites were able to draw on a more localised sense of the past in their efforts to resist or at least to channel ‘centralisation’.

45 Wood, ‘Isidore of Seville as an Historian’, pp. 154-163. 46 For example, Isidore does not mention the series of revolts that occurred in 587–589, following King Reccared’s decision to convert: Vitas Sanctorum Patrum Emeritensium, 5.12 (see also 5.10–11 for a plot led by the Arian bishop Sunna against the Nicene bishop of Mérida, Masona). On the conversion, see: Thompson, ‘The Conversion of the Visigoths to Catholicism’, pp. 4–35. 47 On episcopal office in Late Antiquity, see: Rapp, Holy Bishops in Late Antiquity.

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Contingent conflicts: A local sense of the past John of Biclarum and Isidore designed their histories to represent the past on a grand scale. The histories that they produced thus often focussed on the level of the kingdom or, in the case of the chronicles, the world. As we have just seen, shifting political and ecclesiastical contexts at the level of the kingdom therefore affected the ways in which they depicted the past. Elsewhere in this volume Santiago Castellanos considers the local and regional histories of Visigothic Iberia, demonstrating how individual cities and even regions engaged actively with their pasts during this period. By exploring select examples of conflict over episcopal office in the period, I show how disputants in some of the same kinds of conflict that are obscured by John and Isidore sought to deploy historiographical resources and to manipulate their audiences’ understanding of the past. In some cases, they sought to obscure past conflicts in order to achieve harmony in the present. In Late Antiquity, saints’ cults had the potential to express religious identity on a local, often civic, level and to forge connections across time and space, linking communities in different places and situating the present in relation to the past. 48 Liturgy and other commemorative activities helped, through the reiteration of locally focused micro-histories, simultaneously to remind a local community of its own sacred past and to tie it into the history of the universal church, such as by referencing experiences of persecution that were shared – and commemorated – by other communities.49 Even in histories that focus on activities taking place at the level of the kingdom, local patron saints are depicted as intervening actively in disputes between central and local elites. A good example is Saint Acisclus, recorded in Isidore’s History of the Goths as acting against the Visigothic king Agila (d. 555): Moving against the city of Cordoba in battle, Agila, in contempt of the Catholic religion, inflicted injury on the church of the most blessed martyr, Acisclus. At the outset of his struggle against the citizens of Cordoba, this profane man polluted the sacred site of Acisclus’ tomb with the remains of his enemies and their horses. He thus deserved the punishments unleashed by the saints. Struck in vengeance in the middle of the same 48 On the views of Isidore and other Late Antique writers from Hispania on saints’ cults, see: Godoy, ‘Algunos aspectos del culto de los santos’, pp. 161–170. 49 Wood, ‘Persecution, Past and Present’, pp. 41–60.

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campaign, he lost both his son, who was killed there along with a large part of the army, and his remarkably rich treasure.50

Acisclus’s cult was actively cultivated in Cordoba from at least the late fourth century onwards and he was likely considered patron saint of the city during Late Antiquity.51 His defence of the city against its Arian oppressor was neither unexpected nor unusual, for other Late Antique Iberian histories discuss saints intervening to protect cities against hostile forces and/or to punish those same enemies. The Chronicle of Hydatius, written ca. 470 in Gallaecia, mentions several episodes of saints protecting their favoured cities from the depredations of barbarian rulers. Although not presented as an instance of divine intervention, the protection offered by Alaric, the Gothic king, to Christians during the sack of Rome in 410 is related to the sanctuary that is offered by the saints: ‘Alaric, the king of the Goths, entered Rome. Although there was slaughter inside and outside the city, sanctuary was granted to all who sought refuge in the shrines of the saints’.52 This episode is mentioned by a number of other historians in the late antique West, including in more detail in the Histories of Orosius, a text that circulated in Visigothic Iberia and influenced Isidore’s depiction of the sack of Rome in the History of the Goths. Isidore narrates an episode during the siege when a Goth confronted a consecrated virgin who revealed that she was carrying vases that she was safeguarding for the sanctuary of Saint Peter. The virgin stated: ‘These vases were entrusted to me from the sanctuary of the Apostle Peter: take them, if you dare. I dare not give such sacred things to the enemy’. Terrified at the mention of the Apostle’s name, the Goth reported the incident to his king through a messenger. The king immediately ordered everything to be returned with the greatest reverence to the sanctuary of St Peter, saying that he was waging war against the Romans, not against the Apostles.53

Orosius’s earlier account is as follows: These are the sacred vessels of the Apostle Peter, take them, if you dare, and you will be judged by your act. I dare not keep them, as I cannot 50 Isidore, History of the Goths 46. 51 Wood, ‘Persecution, Past and Present’, pp. 41–60. 52 Hydatius, Chronicle 35 (43): Alaricus rex Gothorum Romam ingressus. Cum intra et extra urbem caedes agerentur, omnibus indultum est qui ad sanctorum limina confugerunt. 53 Isidore, History of the Goths 16.

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protect them.’ The barbarian was moved to religious awe through his fear of God and the virgin’s faith, and sent a messenger to tell Alaric about these matters. He immediately ordered that all the vessels should be taken back, just as they had been found, to the basilica of the Apostle and that the virgin and any other Christians who might join her be taken there with the same degree of protection.54

Isidore’s narrative thus represents something of an intensification of that of Orosius, his source.55 While there is a sense in the extract from Orosius that the saint is to be feared, this is underlined in the History of the Goths. For Isidore’s Alaric, the saints should not just be protected, but they should not suffer any kind of affront lest it be interpreted as an act of war. Divine vengeance thus often accompanied stories of saintly protection. Again, Hydatius offers some good examples, particularly his account of barbarian depredations in the south of Hispania at the end of the 420s. After describing how Gunderic, the Vandal king, had captured Hispalis (Seville), Hydatius states that, ‘with overweening impiety’, he ‘tried to lay hands on the church of that very city’ and ‘by the will of God he was seized by a demon and died’.56 Isidore later picked up this story in his history of the Vandals, adding a specif ic local detail that Gunderic was acting against the basilica of the martyr Vincentius.57 A case that is ascribed more directly to the intervention of the saints in Hydatius (not adopted by Isidore) is the following chapter, on the Suevic king Heremigarius: Not far from Emerita [Merida], which Heremigarius had scorned, thereby causing an affront to the holy martyr Eulalia, Gaiseric slaughtered the accursed soldiers who were with the Sueve, but Heremigarius, who thought that he had saved himself by turning to flight more swiftly than the wind, was cast headlong into the river Ana by the hand of God and died.58 54 Cf. Orosius, Histories 7.39. 5–7. 55 On Isidore’s use of Orosius, see: Ghosh, Writing the Barbarian Past, pp. 74-92. 56 Hydatius, Chronicle 79 (89): Gundericus rex Vandalorum capta Ispali cum impie elatus manus in ecclesiam ciuitatis ipsius extendisset, mox dei iudicio demone correptus interiit […]. 57 Cf. Isidore, History of the Vandals 73. On Isidore’s use of Hydatius in general, see: Thompson, Romans and Barbarians, pp. 217–222. 58 Hydatius, Chronicle 80 (90): […] qui aud procul de Emerita, quam cum sanctae martyris Eulaliae iniuria spreuerat, maledictis per Gaisericum caesis ex his quos secum habebat, arrepto, ut putauit euro uelocis fugae subsidio in flumine Ana diuino bracio precipitatus interiit […].

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An affront to Merida was an affront to Eulalia, who acted swiftly to protect her city, just as Acisclus protected Cordoba from Agila. It is hardly surprising that Hydatius recognised the connection between Eulalia and Merida because her cult was long-established there. For example, the Christian poet Prudentius, wrote in the late fourth or early fifth century in his Hymn in honour of Eulalia that veneration of her bones leads her to intercede with God on behalf of her city: ‘So will we venerate her bones and the altar placed over her bones, while she, set at the feet of God, views all our doings, our song wins her favour, and she cherishes her people’.59 In the seventh century, the author of the Vita Fructosusi, a hagiography recounting the life of Bishop Fructousus of Braga, a prolific monastic founder, recounts a miracles that occurred when his subject was ‘making for the glorious city of Merida in the province of Lusitania through his love of the famed virgin Eulalia’.60 In addition to such external references, it was the cultivation of Eulalia’s cult in Merida itself that forged the close association between saint and city that Prudentius, Hydatius and others noticed. In the late sixth century, we once again find the saintly patron protecting her client city against an external threat. Eulalia played a pivotal role in the Vitas Sanctorum Patrum Emeritensium, a hagiography about the bishops of Merida in the sixth century. The text was redacted in two stages, in 633 or shortly thereafter and then sometime between 666 and 681,61 although there may have been an earlier stage of composition at the end of the sixth century.62 The author situates the Vitas directly within a hagiographical continuum by appealing to Gregory the Great’s Dialogues as a model and referring to words of the evangelists as further proof of the veracity of stories about the miracles of holy men: No orthodox believer and above all no Catholic ought to disbelieve in the miracles which that most holy and famed bishop, Gregory, Bishop of the City of Rome, fired by the grace of the Comforting Spirit, set down in his Dialogues, writing them with a pen which told the truth: miracles which 59 Prudentius, Peristephanon III.211–215: sic venerarier ossa libetossibus altar et inpositum: illa Dei sita sub pedibusprospicit haec populosque suos carmine propitiata fovet. For a survey of Late Antique Iberian sources and historiographical debates about Eulalia, see García Rodríguez, El culto de los santos en España romana y visigoda, pp. 284–303. 60 Vita Fructuosi 11: […] prouinciae Lusitaniae eximiam urbem Emeritam ob desiderium egregiae uirginis Eulaliae peteret […]. 61 On the date, see: Velázquez, Vidas de los santos Padres de Mérida, pp. 11–15. 62 Barrett, ‘Empire and the Politics of Faction’.

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in olden times Almighty God thought it fit to work through the glory of His name through humble servants who were indeed pleasing to him. Let no one’s mind be troubled by this doubt: that these things appear to have happened in ancient times, and so perhaps not believe in them completely, thinking that this holy man of divine election, a tabernacle of the Holy Spirit, has obfuscated some points with empty and nebulous language For through the authoritative words of the evangelists it is made clearer than the light of day to everyone that the Lord had always worked miracles and works them to this day.63

The preface ends by bringing the universal into the locality by verifying miracle stories about the holy men of Merida (‘I shall tell of the things that have happened in the city of Merida in our present times’) through reference to reliable witnesses. He notes that these ‘are not events we have learned about from the tales of strangers of from contrived fables, but which we ourselves have heard with our own ears from those who have left the body in wondrous fashion and who we have no doubt reached the heavenly realms’. A devotional context of some sort is suggested by the statement that appeal to such local witnesses ensured ‘that the faith of all those reading or listening may be strengthened with greater and stouter belief’.64 Eulalia is mentioned frequently in the text, including in the context of the city’s resistance to the efforts of King Leovigild to assert royal power more fully over Merida.65 According to the hagiographer, Bishop Masona (discussed above) led such resistance and a key point of contention with 63 Vitas Sanctorum Patrum Emeritensium, preface, 1–2: Virorum ortodoxorum maximeque catholicorum prossus uera esse nullus ambigeat miracula, qua sanctissimus egregiusque uates,Romane presul urbis, Gregorius inflammatus paracliti carismate Spirims Dialogorum in libris ueridico edidit prenotationis stilo; qua olim scilicet omnipotens Deus seruulis per suis sibi bene placitis propter honorem nominis sui patrare dignatus est. Ne quolibet ab hoc dubietatis quispiam estuet animo, quod priscis iam temporibus gesta esse uideantur, ac fortassis fidem plenam minime adcommodet et prefatum sacratissimum uirum electionis, sacrarium Spiritus sancti, aliqua uanis ac nebulosis uerbis fuscasse opinetur, dum luce clarius euangelice auctoritatis uoce cunctis manifestetur Dominum semper operasse et actenus operari. 64 Vitas Sanctorum Patrum Emeritensium, preface, 3: Quam ob rem ut omnium legentium uel audientium fides maiori credulitate robore firmetur, ea odiernis temporibus in Emeretensi urbe fuisse narramus, que non relatu aliorum agnouimus neque finctis fabulis didicimus, sed que ipsi, eos referentes, auribus nostris audiuimus, quos e corporibus mirabiliter egressos ad etherea regna peruenisse non dubitamus. 65 References to Eulalia, including to her basilica (excluding those in the account of bishop Masona): Vitas Sanctorum Patrum Emeritensium 1.1, 1.28, 3.2, 3.4, 4.1.9, 4.4.8, 4.6.5, 4.6.8, 4.8.1, 4.10.1, 4.10.6, 5.15.1, epilogue.2.

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Leovigild was control of the basilica and relics of Santa Eulalia.66 The highest intensity of references to Eulalia therefore occurs in the account of Masona’s life as the bishop struggled to maintain control of the saint’s cult. The Leovigild-Masona conflict has often been viewed as essentially a religious dispute between an Arian king and a Nicene bishop over control of the cult.67 In an important chapter of 1980, Roger Collins augmented this analysis, demonstrating that what was framed by the hagiographer as a fight between orthodox and heretical groups masked a more complex socio-political reality was more likely a manifestation of competition between the emerging centre of royal and ecclesiastical power, Toledo, and the former capital of Roman Hispania, Merida.68 Santiago Castellanos took this analysis a step further by demonstrating that the Vitas carry a powerful message about the need for social unity within a community that had for decades been riven by conflict over the episcopal office.69 Disputation over ownership of Eulalia was taking place at the local level too; it was not simply the result of tension between the royal centre and a provincial capital. Arian and Nicene leaders struggled for control of the basilica, but there was also infighting within the Nicene community about this issue and establishing control over the city’s past and holy patron played an important role. The hagiographer seems to have been a partisan of one specific Nicene faction who attempted to harness Eulalia to gain advantage in a present dispute. Control of the saint’s cult not only connected the community with the divine but also with its own history, her support enabling the Nicenes to fight off Arian interference, the city’s elite to resist outside pressure from the monarchy, and fuelling internal conflict at a local level. Historiographical references of Eulalia by outside authors such as Hydatius thus simultaneously reflect her significance as a patron of the city and obscure the specific contexts in which her cult was activated and promoted. Of course, this was at least partially the result of genre conventions, due to the brevity demanded of chronicles. The partiality of accounts deriving from the city demonstrates the extent to which historiographical resources, in this case the memories of illustrious Christians, were open to appropriation and reconfiguration by factions within communities as they disputed with one another. 66 References to Eulalia in the life of bishop Masona: Vitas Sanctorum Patrum Emeritensium 5.2.3, 5.3.2, 5.3.9, 5.5.7, 5.6.13, 5.8.1, 5.8.12–13, 5.11.2, 5.11.17–20, 5.12.6, 5.13.8. 67 Maya, ‘De Leovigildo perseguidor y Masona mártir’, pp. 167–186; Alonso Campos, ‘Sunna, Masona y Nepopis’, pp. 151–157. 68 Collins, ‘Mérida and Toledo’, pp. 189–219. 69 Castellanos, ‘The Significance of Social Unanimity in a Visigothic Hagiography’, pp. 387–419.

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Bishops played a pivotal role in the hagiographer’s account of conflict in Merida. As Masona sought to assert Nicene ownership of Eulalia’s basilica in Merida, so Sunna, a bishop who had been parachuted into the city by Leovigild, sought to wrest control for the Arian faction.70 Later, after Sunna had failed to dislodge Masona, Leovigild exiled Masona and replaced him with Nepopis, a Nicene bishop who was transferred from a neighbouring city.71 After King Reccared had converted the Visigoths from Arianism to the Nicene confession, Sunna instigated in a failed plot with some ‘noble Goths’ (Gotorum nobiles genere) to overthrow and kill Masona, was banished from Hispania, and ended up in Mauretania, where he died.72 The author of the Vitas mentions a further rebellion against Reccared in Gallic provinces, at Narbonne. As at Merida, it involved an Arian bishop, Athaloc, and this time involved inviting a ‘huge host of Franks’ (infinita multitudine Franchorum) in support of their cause.73 Bishops Aregius and Ranimirus, also from Visigothic-controlled territories in southern Gaul, were involved in a rebellion in 672–673 against King Wamba, led by Paul, a military commander who had been sent to put down an earlier insurrection and recorded in Julian of Toledo’s Historia Wambae Regis.74 The presentation of the illegitimate elections of these rebel bishops paralleled Julian’s account of the illegal royal election of the rebel Paul.75 As in the case reported in the Vitas, Franks entered Gothic territory during the revolt.76 As with Masona’s resistance to Leovigild, the narratives of rebel bishops recognise that the bishop could serve as a potential alternative locus of power to the king, his agents and allies in the cities of Hispania. However, rather than obscuring historical instances of disunity in pursuit of consensus in the present-day, as was done in the case of some of the conflicts recorded at Merida, historical and hagiographical accounts of rebel bishops actually highlighted the illegitimacy of their actions. Connecting these rebel bishops to disloyal factions within the kingdom and to external 70 Vitas Sanctorum Patrum Emeritensium 5.5–5.6.2, 5.10–5.11.15. 71 Ibid. 5.6.29, 5.8.8–14. 72 Ibid. 5.10–11. 73 Ibid., 5.12. 74 For an introduction to the text and a thorough commentary, see: Martínez Pizarro, The Story of Wamba. 75 Julian of Toledo, Historia Wambae, Book of the History of Gallia 2–4 (the model election of Wamba as king), 6 (irregular election and illegal deposition of bishops), 7–8 (irregular election of the rebel Paul as king). On Julian and the issue of royal succession, see: Collins, ‘Julian of Toledo and the Royal Succession’, pp. 30–49. 76 On Frankish involvement, see: Thompson, The Goths in Spain, pp. 221, 223, 227.

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enemies meant that there was a moral and political imperative underpinning depictions of their collective failure.

Conclusions Historiography in Visigothic Iberia was intimately interconnected with episcopal power. Bishops played a central role in the historiography of Visigothic Iberia, both as authors and as subjects within the histories. The centrality of bishops to the historiography of the period is further illustrated by consideration of what historians such as Isidore failed to pass on (or treated very briefly), from the local disputes in which they engaged in their bishoprics to the moments that they became involved in disputes with the monarchy or with other bishops. In general, the purely historiographical writings of Isidore and others obscure historical instances of disputation over episcopal office at the local level, except in a few limited cases where the aim was to establish the righteousness of the Nicene position and to underline the inevitability of the triumph of the Nicene-Visigothic monarchy. The very deliberate nature of Isidore’s efforts is thrown into sharper relief when compared to his more extensive biographical writings on exactly the same bishops who receive very limited coverage in his histories. This image of the ecclesiastical elites of Visigothic Iberia as engaged actively with the past as part of their struggles to establish and reinforce their privileged position aligns with Damián Fernández’s recent work on how ‘secular’ elites actively cultivated a sense of the past in Late Antique western Iberia to signal their continued Roman-ness.77 The focus of these histories on the office and responsibilities of bishops reflected the theoretical writings of Isidore and others on the episcopacy. Yet, such theories of the episcopal office were grounded in its practical exercise and it is likely that the historical sources both reflected and a reinforced an episcopal power that was grounded in realpolitik. Theory, practice, and historiographical depictions thus largely worked in harmony when it came to the bishops’ power. In providing historical examples of good and bad of conduct by bishops and of their cooperation in councils, historians contributed to the development of the pastoral vision of the episcopacy and of conciliar governance for which the church in Visigothic Iberia is primarily remembered.

77 Fernández, Aristocrats and Statehood in Western Iberia, pp. 160-195.

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Works cited Alonso Campos, Juan Ignacio, ‘Sunna, Masona y Nepopis. Las luchas religiosas durante la dinastía de Leovigildo’, Antigüedad y Cristianismo 3 (1986), 151–157. Álvarez García, Fernando, ‘Tiempo, religión y política en el «Chronicon» de Ioannis Biclarensis’, En la España Medieval 20 (1997), 9–30. Barrett, Graham, ‘Empire and the Politics of Faction: Mérida and Toledo Revisited’, in Rome and Byzantium in the Visigothic Kingdom: Beyond Imitatio Imperii, ed. by Damián Fernández, Molly Lester, and Jamie Wood (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, forthcoming). Bassett, Paul Merritt, ‘The Use of History in the Chronicon of Isidore of Seville’, History and Theory 15 (1976), 278–292. Castellanos, Santiago, ‘The Signif icance of Social Unanimity in a Visigothic Hagiography: Keys to an Ideological Screen’, Journal of Early Christian Studies 11 (2003), 387–419. Cazier, Pierre, Isidore de Séville et la Naissance de l’Espagne Catholique, Théologie Historique 96 (Paris: 1994). Collins, Roger, ‘Mérida and Toledo: 550–585’, in Visigothic Spain: New Approaches, ed. by Edward James (Oxford: 1980), pp. 189–219 [reprinted in Roger Collins, Law, Culture and Regionalism in Early Medieval Spain (London: 1992), I]. Collins, Roger, ‘Julian of Toledo and the Royal Succession in Late Seventh-Century Spain’, in Early Medieval Kingship, ed. by P.H. Sawyer and I.N. Wood (Leeds: 1977), pp. 30–49. Fernández, Damián, Aristocrats and Statehood in Western Iberia, 300–600 C.E. (Philadelphia, PA: 2017). Frighetto, Renan, ‘Memória, história e identidades. Consideraçoes a partir da historia Wambae de Juliano de Toledo (século VII)’, Revista de História Comparada 5 (2011), 50–73. García Rodríguez, Carmen, El culto de los santos en España romana y visigoda (Madrid: 1966). Ghosh, Shami, Writing the Barbarian Past: Studies in Early Medieval Historical Narrative, Brill’s Series on the Early Middle Ages 24 (Leiden: 2015). Godoy Fernández, Cristina, ‘Algunos aspectos del culto de los santos durante la Antigüedad tardía en Hispania’, Pyrenae 29 (1998), 161–170. Hillgarth, Jocelyn N., ‘Historiography in Visigothic Spain’, Settimane di Studio, 17 (1970), pp. 261–311 [reprinted in Jocelyn N. Hillgarth, Visigothic Spain, Byzantium and the Irish (London: 1985), III]. Hillgarth, Jocelyn N., ‘Coins and Chronicles: Propaganda in Sixth-Century Spain and the Byzantine Background’, Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte 4 (1966), 483–508.

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Hydatius, Chronicle: Richard W. Burgess, ed. and trans., The Chronicle of Hydatius and the Consularia Constantinopolitana: Two Contemporary Accounts of the Final Years of the Roman Empire, Oxford Classical Monographs (Oxford: 1993). Isidore, Chronica Maiora: José Carlos Martín, ed., Isidori Hispalensis Chronica, CCSL 112 (Turnhout: 2003). English translation: Sam Koon and Jamie Wood, trans., ‘The Chronica Maiora of Isidore of Seville: An introduction and translation’, e-Spania 6 (2008). Isidore, De ecclesiasticis officiis: Christopher M. Lawson, ed., Sancti Isidori Episcopi Hispalensis. De Ecclesiasticis Officiis, CCSL 113 (Turnhout: 1989). English translation: Thomas L. Knoebel, Isidore of Seville: De Ecclesiasticis Officiis, Ancient Christian Writers 61 (New York: 2008). Isidore, De viris illustribus: Carmen Codoñer Merino, ed., El ‘De viris illustribus’ de Isidoro de Sevilla: Estudio y edición crítica (Salamanca: 1964). Isidore, Etymologiae: Wallace M. Lindsay, ed., Isidori Hispalensis episcopi Etymologiarum sive originum libri XX, 2 vols. (Oxford: 1911). English translation: Stephen A. Barney, W. J. Lewis, J. A. Beach, and Oliver Berghof, The Etymologies of Isidore of Seville (Cambridge: 2006). Isidore, Historia Gothorum: Cristóbal Rodríguez Alonso (ed.), Las historias de los godos, vándalos y suevos de Isidoro de Sevilla (León: 1975). English translation: K. B. Wolf, trans., Conquerors and Chroniclers of Early Medieval Spain, Translated Texts for Historians 9, 2nd edition (Liverpool: 1999), 67–90. Isidore, Historia Vandalorum: Cristóbal Rodríguez Alonso (ed.), Las historias de los godos, vándalos y suevos de Isidoro de Sevilla (León: 1975). English translation: Gordon B. Ford, Isidore of Seville’s History of the Kings of the Goths, Vandals, and Suevi (Leiden: 1966), 33–38. Isidore, Sententiae: Pierre Cazier, ed., Isidorus Hispalensis Sententiae, CCSL 111 (Turnout: 1998). English translation: Thomas L. Knoebel, Isidore of Seville: Sententiae, Ancient Christian Writers 73 (New York: 2018). John of Biclarum, Chronicon: Carmen Cardelle de Hartmann, ed., Victoris Tunnunensis Chronicon cum reliquiis ex Consularibus Caesaraugustanis et Iohannis Biclarensis Chronicon, CCSL 173A (Turnhout: 2001). English translation: K. B. Wolf, trans., Conquerors and Chroniclers of Early Medieval Spain, Translated Texts for Historians 9, 2nd edition (Liverpool: 1999), 51–66. Julian of Toledo, Historia Wambae Regis: Wilhelm Levison, SSRM 5 (Hannover: 1910); revised J. N. Hillgarth, Sancti Iuliani Toletanae sedis episcopi opera, vol. 1, CCSL 115 (Turnhout: 1976). English translation: Joaquín Martínez Pizarro, The story of Wamba: Julian of Toledo’s Historia Wambae regis (Washington, DC: 2005). Koon, Sam, and Jamie Wood, ‘Unity from Disunity: Law, Rhetoric and Power in the Visigothic Kingdom’, European Review of History 16 (2009), 793–808.

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Leonard, Victoria and Wood, Jamie, ‘History-Writing and Education in Late Antique and Early Medieval Iberia’, in Historiography and Identity II: Post-Roman Multiplicity and New Political Identities, Cultural Encounters in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages 26, ed. by Helmut Reimitz and Gerda Heydemann (Turnhout: 2020), pp. 237–267. Martínez Díez, Gonzalo, La colección canónica hispana, I. Estudio, Monumenta Hispania Sacra, Serie canónica 1 (Madrid: 1966). Martínez Díez, Gonzalo and Rodríguez, Félix (eds.), La colección canónica hispana, 6 vols. (Madrid: 1966–2002). Martínez Pizarro, Joaquín, The Story of Wamba: Julian of Toledo’s Historia Wambae regis (Washington, DC: 2005). Maya, Antonio, ‘De Leovigildo perseguidor y Masona mártir’, Emerita, 62 (1994), 167–186. Mullins, Jerome Patrick, The Spiritual Life According to Saint Isidore of Seville, Catholic University of America Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Latin Language and Literature 13 (Washington, DC: 1940). Orosius, Histories: Arnaud-Lindet, Maries-Pierre, ed., Orose. Histoires (Contre les Païens), 3 vols. (Paris: 1990–1991). English translation: A. T. Fear, Orosius: Seven Books of History against the Pagans, Translated Texts for Historians 54 (Liverpool: 2010). Prudentius, Peristephanon: H. J. Thomson, ed. and trans., Prudentius Volume II: Against Symmachus 2. Crowns of Martyrdom. Scenes From History. Epilogue, Loeb Classical Library 398 (London: 1953). Rapp, Claudia, Holy Bishops in Late Antiquity: The Nature of Christian Leadership in an Age of Transition, Transformation of the Classical Heritage 37 (Berkeley, CA: 2005). Reydellet, Marc, ‘Les intentions idéologiques dans la ‘Chronique’ d’Isidore de Séville’, Mélanges d’archéologie et d’histoire, 82 (1970), 363–400. Rouse, Richard H. and Rouse, Mary A., ‘Bibliography before Print: The Medieval De viris illustribus’, in The Role of the Book in Medieval Culture: Proceedings of the Oxford International Symposium, 26 September–1 October 1982, ed. by Peter Ganz, 2 vols., Bibliologia 3–4 (Turnhout: 1986), vol. 1: pp. 133–153. Stocking, Rachel L., Bishops, Councils and Consensus in the Visigothic Kingdom, 589–633 (Ann Arbor, MI: 2000). Thompson, E.A., Romans and Barbarians: The Decline of the Western Empire (Madison, WI: 1982). Thompson, E.A., The Goths in Spain (Oxford: 1969). Thompson, E.A., ‘The Conversion of the Visigoths to Catholicism’, Nottingham Medieval Studies, 4 (1960), 4–35.

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Vallejo Girvés, Margarita, ‘Los exilios de católicos y arrianos bajo Leovigildo y Recaredo’, Hispania sacra, 55 (2003), 35–48. Velázquez, Isabel, Vidas de los santos Padres de Mérida (Madrid: 2008). Velázquez, Isabel, ‘Pro patriae gentisque Gothorum statu (4th Council of Toledo, Canon 75, A. 633)’, in Regna and Gentes: The Relationship between Late Antique and Early Medieval Peoples and Kingdoms in the Transformation of the Roman World, Transformation of the Roman World 13, ed. by Hans-Werner Goetz, Jörg Jarnut, and Walter Pohl (Leiden: 2003), pp. 161–217. Vitas Sanctorum Patrum Emeretensium: Antonio Maya Sánchez, ed., CCSL 116 (Turnhout: 1992). English translation: A. T. Fear, Lives of the Visigothic Fathers, Translated Texts for Historians 26 (Liverpool, 1997), 45–105. Vita Fructuosi: Manuel C. Díaz y Díaz, ed., La Vida de San Fructuoso de Braga: Estudio y edición crítica (Braga: 1974). English translation: A. T. Fear, Lives of the Visigothic Fathers, Translated Texts for Historians 26 (Liverpool, 1997), 123–144. Vives, José, ed., Concilios visigóticos e hispano-romanos (Barcelona: 1963). Wood, Jamie, ‘Isidore of Seville as an Historian’, in A Companion to Isidore of Seville, Companion to the Christian Tradition, ed. by Andrew Fear and Jamie Wood (Leiden: 2020), pp. 153–181. Wood, Jamie, ‘Persecution, Past and Present: Memorialising Martyrdom in Late Antique and Early Medieval Córdoba’, Al-Masaq: Journal of the Medieval Mediterranean 27 (2015), 41–60. Wood, Jamie, ‘Religiones and Gentes in Isidore of Seville’s Chronica Maiora: The Visigoths as a Chosen People’, in Post-Roman Transitions: Christian and Barbarian Identities in the Early Medieval West, Cultural Encounters in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages 14, ed. by Walter Pohl and Gerda Heydemann (Turnhout: 2013), pp. 125–168. Wood, Jamie, The Politics of Identity in Visigothic Spain: Religion and Power in the Histories of Isidore of Seville, Brill’s Series on the Early Middle Ages 21 (Leiden: 2012). Wood, Jamie ‘Playing the Fame Game: Bibliography, Celebrity and Primacy in Late Antique Spain’, Journal of Early Christian Studies 20 (2012), 613–640. Wood, Jamie, ‘Brevitas in the Historical Writings of Isidore of Seville’, in Early Medieval Spain: A Symposium, Papers of the Medieval Hispanic Research Seminar 63, ed. by A. Deyermond and M. Ryan (London: 2010), pp. 37–53. Wood, Jamie, ‘Catholic Heretics and Heretical Catholics: Isidore of Seville and the Religious History of the Goths’, in From Orosius to the Historia Silense. Four Essays on the Late Antique and Early Medieval Historiography of the Iberian Peninsula, ed. By D. Hook (Bristol: 2005), pp. 17–50.

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About the author Jamie Wood is Professor of History and Education at the University of Lincoln. He has published on the historical writings of Isidore of Seville, bishops in Visigothic Hispania, and the social functions of violence in Late Antiquity. His current project explores political, economic, and religious connections between the Iberian Peninsula and the Byzantine world.

10. Local Powers and Construction of the Past in the Visigothic Kingdomof Hispania1 Santiago Castellanos

Abstract This chapter examines how conflict between central and local powers was portrayed in the construction of the Visigothic kingdom’s past, focusing on two of the most illustrious authors of the kingdom’s ideological historical narrative, John of Biclar and Isidore of Seville. The aim is to show that the lists of the Gothic kings’ military campaigns against local powers should not be viewed as a mere inventory, but rather as a very specific ideological project that is also apparent in an analysis of the lexicon employed. Keywords: Local powers, Construction of the past, Visigothic Iberia, Historiography

The triumph of a linear, providentialist, and teleological history, forged by authors such as John of Biclaro and Isidore of Seville in the Visigothic Kingdom of Toledo could prompt equally linear readings of its content. This chapter examines how John and Isidore – the principal narrative sources in the construction of the Visigothic past – portrayed relations between central and local powers with a particular focus on the lexicon of conquest. This does not necessarily imply a rigid vision between centre and periphery, but rather an exploration of the role that these relations played in the construction of a linear history by clerics, monks, and bishops in seventh-century Hispania. 1 This study formed part of research project HAR2016–76094-C4–1-R, Spanish Ministry of Science, Innovation and Universities.

Ubric Rabaneda, P. (ed.), Writing History in Late Antique Iberia: Historiography in Theory and Practice from the Fourth to the Seventh Century. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2022 doi 10.5117/9789463729413_ch10

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Consolidation of the Visigothic Kingdom in Hispania Recent research has undoubtedly demonstrated that consolidation of the Visigothic Kingdom in Hispania did not occur through a linear process of conquest. As we shall see below, while it is true that dominion was sometimes achieved through military conquest in the strict sense of the word, it is no less true that these conquests formed the basis of more complex processes related to negotiated – and sometimes imposed – mechanisms such as taxation, administration, and pacts with the Catholic Church, aspects that are beyond the scope of this chapter but which form the backdrop to the subject under study. The Goths, who from the time of Cassiodorus, Jordanes, and Procopius of Caesarea came to be known as Visigoths in the sources, formed their kingdom in Hispania in gradual stages.2 Their defeat at the hands of the Franks at Vouillé (507) undoubtedly represented a turning point, but was not the only reason why the Visigoths settled in Hispania. The territory had been well known to them since the fifth century when Athaulf had led the Goths to Barcinona (Barcelona) where they settled for a few months until his murder in the summer of 415. This later formed part of the strategy of blockading ports and supplies in southern Gaul carried out by Honorius, or rather, by his right-hand man at the time, Constantius. Subsequently, pacts between the Imperial court and the Gothic king Wallia allowed the Goths in Hispania to conduct a few campaigns (c. 416–417) against the Sueves, Vandals and Alans, who had entered the Iberian Peninsula in 409. The end result of this was the Goths settling in Aquitaine from around 418, heralding the beginning of the Gothic kingdom in Gaul, with the capital at Tolosa (Toulouse). Despite settling in Gaul, the Goths retained their interest in Hispania and conducted a number of campaigns in the fifth century – in the shadow of Imperial strategies – for example against the bagaudae rebels or the Sueves, but they also conducted other expeditions such as those that took place on their return to Gaul in 457 after spending the winter of 456 around Merida. If the inscription in Merida – dated to 483 and only transmitted in the manuscript tradition – is accurate, it is probable that in the time of Euric (466–484), the Goths had interests in strategic sites such Merida that had been the main administrative city in Hispania during the Late Roman Empire.3 2 On use of the term ‘Visigoth’ from the sixth century onwards, Liebeschuetz, ‘Making a Gothic History’; ‘Goths and Romans’. 3 An overview of Sueve, Vandal, and Alan entry into Hispania, and on the Goths’ interventions in the fifth century, in Arce, Bárbaros y romanos; Díaz, ‘Barbarians’.

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In the late f ifth century, in the time of Alaric II (484–507), military interventions occurred in the north-east of Hispania, in coastal areas of Tarraconensis, probably aimed at strengthening the strongholds that the Goths controlled there in the face of local opposition. Thus, by the time the Goths under Alaric II were defeated by the Franks under Clovis in 507, they were already well-acquainted with Hispania. Despite what is sometimes thought, it is most likely that the Goths did not control most of Hispania under either Euric or Alaric II, but only a few settlements in Tarraconensis and some key strongholds further south, such as Merida. 4 This means that in the sixth century, construction of the regnum Gothorum in Hispania was slow, rather than the result of a sudden advance in 507. A cautious study of the sources suggests that the Goths probably spread through Hispania gradually, during the fifth and early sixth centuries. However, the persistence of the fully Visigothic kingdom from the sixth until the early eighth centuries was not due to an ‘advance’ or an ‘invasion’ but to negotiations, pacts and conquests. Below, I shall examine how these mechanisms of overcoming local powers were included and described in the sources. The Gothic Kingdom in Hispania was consolidated during the sixth century. Although inland and southern territories were probably consolidated during the reign of Theudis (531–548), it was during the reign of Leovigild (568/9–586) that the kingdom managed to prevail over the greater part of local powers in Hispania, even annexing the Sueve kingdom in the northwest. Only the eastern coast and the south-east remained under imperial rule, separate from the kingdom, which had already established its sedes regia in Toledo, probably under Athanagild (555–567), if not before, under Theudis. The imperial possessions would be extracted during the time of Suinthila, around 625. As noted above and evidenced by this brief synthesis, consolidation of the Visigothic Kingdom in Hispania was far from a linear process. Here, I shall examine the lexicon of conquest used in two of the most striking examples of the historical narrative produced in the kingdom, the works of John of Biclaro and Isidore of Seville. Both were bishops, the former in Gerona, to the north-east of Tarraconensis, and the latter in southern Hispania.

4 The references are given in the Consularia Caesaraugustana 71 (494), 75 (497), ed. Cardelle de Hartmann. On possible interpretations of these passages, Kulikowski, Late Roman Spain, pp. 206–208; Koch, ‘Gotthi’; Arce, Esperando a los árabes, pp. 34–36.

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The background of the sources and the existence of local powers John, who in his youth had studied in Constantinople, had been exiled to the vicinity of Barcelona in the time of Leovigild. He ended up becoming Bishop of Gerona, and founded the Biclaro monastery, for which he wrote a Rule. John formed part of the elitist episcopal and monastical bases of power in the Visigothic kingdom, and his chronicle reflects these interests. Although it was initially thought that his chronicle might have been written in the final years of the reign of Reccared (586–601), more recently, a slightly later date has been proposed.5 Isidore was even more intimately connected to groups of episcopal power because his brother Leander was the Bishop of Seville in the late sixth century. His family contained several bishops, including Leander, and later Isidore himself, in Seville and Fulgentius in Écija, as well as a sister Florentina, who shone in a monastic environment. This is not the place to go into details about the life of Isidore, who was Bishop of Seville from around 600/602 until his death in 636. However, it is essential to remember his position in the sphere of central power. Leander had earlier participated in Hermenegild’s rebellion against his father Leovigild, a conflict that lasted from around 579 to 585 and was subsequently one of the architects of the pact with the kingdom of Reccared, which led to the regnum Gothorum officially converting to Catholicism in 589. Isidore played an active role in ecclesiastical affairs not only in southern Hispania but also in the kingdom as a whole, as evidenced by the important Fourth Council of Toledo held in 633. His work encompassed numerous areas of theology, monasticism, scientific knowledge, and, of course, history, among many others.6 For both John and Isidore, Christianity – and more specifically, Catholicism – formed a framework without which they could not understand history. In their texts, the use they made of the past was shaped by the contours of Christian history in the Late Roman tradition. In this, they do 5 Isid. uir. ill. 31, ed. Codoñer. On the concept of John’s chronicle and other chronicles in the Visigothic period, Galán Sánchez, El género historiográfico; on John of Biclaro, see also Campos, Juan de Bíclaro, and on the later dates, Cardelle de Hartmann, in the edition cited in the references, and Pozo, ‘Las fuentes’. 6 On Isidore’s historiographic approach, as well as his biographical details, see Fontaine, Isidore de Séville; Díaz y Díaz, ‘Introducción general’, pp. 7–257; Wood, Politics of Identity; Ghosh, Writing, pp. 80–86; Castellanos, ‘Isidore of Seville’. On the bio of Isidore, as well as the ‘Introducción general’ of Díaz y Díaz, see Martín Iglesias, ‘Isidoro de Sevilla: su familia, su vida, su producción escrita,’ in Escritos medievales, pp. 14–53. On the problem of the two versions of the Historia Gothorum, see Velázquez, ‘La doble redacción’; ‘Revisiones de autor’.

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not differ much from other key contemporary European historiographic sources, such as Gregory of Tours in Merovingian Gaul.7 However, John and Isidore conferred a unique protagonism on the Goths, who, in many ways, formed the core of their historiographic discourse, to the extent that their vision of the past served to exalt the Goths to the detriment of Byzantine imperial interests and those of local powers in Hispania. This is clearly evidenced in their references to the peoples of northern Hispania. Indeed, the north is one of the geohistorical scenarios that most repeatedly appears in the language of conquest in the sources for the Visigothic kingdom. The Gothic kings led several campaigns against the Ruccones, Astures, Cantabri, and Vascones, among other peoples in the north of the Iberian Peninsula. This suggested the possibility of a limes during the Late Roman period, a hypothesis that more recent research has shown is no longer sustainable.8 However, the rhetoric of conquest used by John and Isidore, which shall be discussed in the following section, generally referred to campaigns led by Gothic kings (most notably Leovigild) against the local powers. These powers had become firmly established in Hispania during the collapse of the Western Roman Empire.9 Recent archaeology has established the existence of castella in rural areas, which are sometimes interpreted as centres of territorial hierarchies established by local elites. As we shall see, it would very likely have been the castella that John and Isidore cited in some of their references to the lexicon of conquest and subjugation of the kingdom within Hispania. These sites of habitation, located on high – and often fortified – land, varied widely in size, defensive walls, and internal structures. Although sites such as Peña Amaya (perhaps identifiable with the Amaia defeated by Leovigild in his campaign against the Cantabri in 574), Monte Cildá, Navasangil, El Castillón, and Merchanas differ from one another, in general they probably indicate the existence of local power networks capable of organising and hierarchising the territory. Stamped pottery has sometimes been discovered in the castella, which in the Visigothic period is 7 In general, Ghosh, Writing. On the role of Catholicism as the pivotal element of the historiographic discourse of Gregory of Tours, even more so than Frankish identities, see Reimitz, History, Frankish Identity, pp. 52–57. 8 The hypothesis of the limes, as well as other proposals, was most fully developed by Barbero, Vigil, Sobre los orígenes. For a critique of this and the relevant literature, see Menéndez Bueyes, Reflexiones; Díaz, Menéndez Bueyes, ‘Romanos’; Castellanos, ‘Astures’. 9 One of the results of the collapse of the Roman imperial system in Hispania was the consolidation of local powers, which is fundamental to an understanding of Visigothic Hispania, see Barbero, Vigil, La formación; Díaz, ‘Hispania’; Fernández, Aristocrats and Statehood.

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typically associated with an elite, as are other elements occasionally found in them, such as coins.10 Local power networks were created on different levels depending on capabilities: the top, most powerful level, was forged in the most potent ciuitates in the kingdom, such as Corduba, Emerita, Tarraco, and Hispalis. Meanwhile, the lowest level comprised rural environments with castella, which, in turn, varied widely: some were very powerful and others very modest, but on a local scale they represented a point of territorial control. Independent of their scope, these local powers were affected by the expansion of the kingdom and the reconstruction of the past in the service of the ideology of the central power, carried out by authors such as John of Biclaro and Isidore of Seville.

Resistance and conquest: The lexicon of episcopal historiography linked to the kingdom The most striking element in the narrative constructed by the sources of the Visigothic kingdom in Hispania is perhaps the idea of conquest, an idea cemented by repeated mention of kings’ campaigns against their enemies. Here, I do not refer to wars waged against Imperial or Frankish forces, which were also recurrent in the sixth and seventh centuries, but to campaigns led by Gothic kings against local powers in regions, cities, and rural settlements alike. The principal sources in the process of creating a historical ideology of the Catholic regnum (John and Isidore) based their use of the past on a linear language of conquest. John of Biclaro describes the reign of Leovigild as the pinnacle of the military campaigns that would consolidate the Gothic kingdom in Hispania. In his chronicle, he uses some very significant words in his depiction of Leovigild as conqueror, a portrayal of this king that Isidore subsequently reiterated. When Liuva I made his brother co-ruler (568/569) and put him in direct charge of Hispania (which appears as Citerior in the text), leaving Liuva in Septimania, Leovigild was able to strengthen the rule of the kingdom in its territorial sense, which appears with the accusative prouinciam followed by the genitive Gothorum. This concept of prouincia here as a term 10 On the Visigothic castella, see Quirós Castillo, Tejado Sebastián, Los castillos altomedievales; Gutiérrez González, ‘Fortificaciones tardoantiguas’; Martín Viso, ‘Castella y elites’; Diarte Blasco, Late Antique and Early Medieval Hispania, pp. 70–75; Martínez Jiménez, Sastre de Diego, Tejerizo García, The Iberian Peninsula, pp. 195–200.

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indicating control of a region or, in this case, of all the territories then ruled by the Gothic kingdom – fewer than those that would come under Gothic rule during the reign of Leovigild – occurs repeatedly in John’s chronicle.11 Writing in the early seventh century, his aim was to highlight the unity of the Gothic kingdom achieved through Catholicism, which was the apotheosis of his chronicle. Consequently, Leovigild’s reign was useful to him because it involved the construction of the kingdom’s territorial bases through conquest, despite his Arian religious policy that John considered pernicious. The entry mentioned above includes the notion that Leovigild achieved territorial control through quelling what he considered rebellions according to this ideology. From the opposite perspective, the local and regional powers were attempting to prevent their definitive inclusion in the political and fiscal structure of the regnum. Thus, in this same entry describing the start of Leovigild’s reign, John uses expressions such as pro rebellione diuersorum.12 In reference to the campaigns conducted in different regions of Hispania, John uses the terminology of violence and conquest to construct the image of a conquering king, the true territorial founder of the Gothic kingdom in Hispania. When speaking of the campaigns in Bastetania and around Malaga, he uses the verb uastat.13 The phrases John employs in his chronicle to shape the image of Leovigild the conqueror often juxtapose verbs of military violence and victory with others that convey the idea of incorporating a vanquished area into the kingdom. In this second semantic and political field, verbs such as ‘regain’ and ‘return’ convey the message that what Leovigild had in fact done was to implement justice by returning the various territories of Hispania to their legitimate ruler. In other words, an ideological discourse is deployed whereby Leovigild’s feat – achieved several decades before John was writing – had been to construct the kingdom’s legitimate territorial base. Writing of the conquest of Medina Sidonia – in which the Goths vanquished the Imperial forces – John mentions occupat, but later, when concluding the entry devoted to this subject in his chronicle, he says that ad Gothorum reuocat iura.14 The case of Asidona is due to the context of wars against the Imperial powers that had occupied large areas of the south-east and south. However, 11 On the meaning of prouincia in John, and the differences with other uses in the period of the Visigothic kingdom of Hispania, see Martin, La géographie du pouvoir, pp. 65–72. 12 Bicl. 10, ed. Cardelle de Hartmann. 13 Ibid., 12. 14 Ibid., 17.

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the narrative schema is very similar in other cases unrelated to campaigns against the Imperial forces. Thus, the conquest is not only reported but also legitimised. There are some striking examples in the king’s campaigns in the early 570s. In the case of Corduba, the city is presented as a rebel (rebellem) against the Goths. Hence, the conquest of such an important city with well-established local powers is presented as a natural event. John concludes his entry by noting that Leovigild made it his own, propriam facit. The narrative schema thus legitimises this use of force, in line with the ideological objectives of the presentation of the past that John had chosen. When writing about the surrounding areas, with cities (urbes) and castella, and referring to the multitude of peasants, he again uses very forceful expressions, such as interfecta, in combination with the idea of restoring the area to the dominion of the Goths, in Gothorum dominium reuocat.15 He again uses uastat in reference to the campaign against the Sappi, once more in combination with an expression indicating that the military campaign implied seizing a territory that the kingdom was legitimately entitled to possess: prouinciam ipsam in suam redigit ditionem.16 The campaign against Cantabria is described in terms of force and violence, interfecit, territorial occupation of the main settlement, Amaia, and the wealth of the opponents (Amaiam occupat, opes eorum peruadit), and prouinciam in suam reuocat ditionem.17 John’s entry on the campaign in the Aregenses highlands, in the north-west, focuses on Aspidius. He was a local power, who John sums up with the expression loci senior, and uses a verb (ingreditur) of movement that conveys the idea of entry or penetration into the domains of this local power. He employs ducit to indicate that the king seized Aspidius’s family, and once more, he describes the capture of a local power, together with his wealth and territory, and subsequent incorporation into the domains of Leovigild: opesque eius et loca in suam redigit potestatem. This is one of the few instances in which the name of one of the local powers of sixth or seventh century Hispania is given. Aspidius was probably one of the potentes, heirs to the local powers that had consolidated their position in the various regions of Hispania during the collapse of the Roman political system.18 It was in the 570s that Leovigild made his first incursion, crossing the borders of the Sueve kingdom in Gallaecia, albeit with the backdrop of a 15 Ibid., 20. 16 Ibid., 27. 17 Ibid., 32. 18 Ibid., 35. On Aspidius and his historical context, see Castellanos, ‘Redefiniendo el poder local’.

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diplomatic pact but also an offensive on the borders.19 The idea of advance (ingreditur) reappears in reference to the campaign in Orospeda, which was absorbed into the kingdom’s systems of territorial power, and which John simplifies with the formula, suam prouinciam facit. As in the entry on Corduba, he mentions other surrounding urban and rural settlements, ciuitates atque castella, and the idea of rebellious peasants, rustici rebellantes, immediately followed by concepts of conquest (opprimuntur) and the now firmly rooted idea of rule by the kingdom, possidetur. These local powers at regional (Orospeda) and local (ciuitates and castella) level are portrayed in opposition to the Gothi.20 John of Biclaro assesses what had been achieved with the campaigns in this decade by around 577. According to his assessment, Leovigild had managed to prevail over his enemies, extinctis undique tirannis et peruasoribus Ispanie superatis. Thus, he depicts Leovigild’s adversaries as foreign enemies in the sense of presenting an external threat to the kingdom and its borders, which would undoubtedly have expanded as a result of Leovigild’s campaigns, and as tyrannical in the sense of powers exerting illegitimate rule over their populations. Yet again, the idea is advanced whereby it was the regnum Gothorum and no other that was the legitimate political power entitled to rule over the whole of Hispania. When John wrote these lines – probably in the first decade of the seventh century – this situation appeared consolidated, with the exception of those territories that remained under Imperial control until around 625. John of Biclaro’s assessment of the situation by around 577 did not preclude mention of other subsequent campaigns against local or regional powers. This was the case of Leovigild’s campaign against the Vascones in 580/581. The entry contains notable mention of rex, and also reports occupation of part of the Vascon territory, partem Vasconie occupat, and foundation of the settlement of Victoriacum, which appears in the text as a ciuitas. Furthermore, its foundation is directly presented as the king’s decision, linked as the subject of the verb condidit. Here, the rex is depicted as the visible head of the regnum who founds cities, as had occurred very recently with Reccopolis, and this, together with other elements of Leovigild’s reign such as the issuance of currency, court rituals and the revision of a series of laws, has led to the view of Leovigild as a monarch who imitated Byzantine models.21 19 Bicl. 39. On this campaign by Leovigild, see Díaz, El reino suevo, pp. 125, 147. 20 Bicl. 46. 21 Ibid., 60, the foundation of Reccopolis in Bicl. 50. On Reccopolis, Olmo, ‘Recópolis. La construcción de un nuevo paisaje’. On the ideological component of the foundation of cities and court ceremonies, see Valverde Castro, Ideología, simbolismo.

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The outbreak of conflict with his son Hermenegild is dated to around 578/579. Although the political and ideological details of this are beyond the scope of this chapter, it is of interest to note that John uses a lexicon similar to that he employed in reference to the king’s military campaigns against the local powers, the subject under study here. He locates the origin of the conflict in a domestic problem, domestic rixa, that disrupts (conturbat) the earlier situation described in the previous entry: the wedding between Hermenegild and a Frankish princess (Ingund, who is not mentioned by name), and administration of part of the kingdom’s territory. Interestingly, John uses the same concept of rebellion (with expressions such as rebellione facta and rebelare) as he had in reference to some instances involving local powers, to refer to the core of Hermenegild’s movement in Hispalis, Seville: in Ispali ciuitate rebellione facta. Thus, because Hermenegild is in conflict with the rex of the regnum, John presents him as an illegitimate power just as he does with the local powers against whom Leovigild had led his military campaigns. It is therefore not surprising that he also uses the idea of tyranny, tirannidem assumens. Again, as in the other cases cited, this power that John presents as illegitimate is not only linked to a particular city, but is also described with the formula ciuitates atque castella, which John has used on other occasions, for example in the case of the campaigns against Corduba and Orospeda. In subsequent entries, John of Biclaro employs a lexicon similar to that of the military campaigns against the previously discussed local powers, in this case insisting on the idea of illegitimacy through use of the classical term on tyranny and the concept of rebellion, rebellem filium.22 John also uses the concept of tyranny to refer to Audeca. A Sueve king, Audeca had deposed Eboric and married King Miro’s widow, and could therefore be considered a usurper, which would explain John’s depiction. This dimension – which in the case of Audeca is the main subject of the entry in which John considers him a tyrant – does not preclude another, which is that John seems to be interested in the matter solely from the perspective of the Goths. Hence, the use of tyranny should also be interpreted from the Gothic angle, along the same lines that were emphasised earlier. 22 On the outbreak of conflict between father and son, see Bicl. 54, while for reference to Hermenegild’s wedding and his father’s grant of territorial power, see Bicl. 53. Although John does not mention Ingund, he does explicitly say that Hermenegild married a daughter of King Sigibert, then king of Austrasia. John had insisted on tyranny before: Bicl. 54 and Bicl. 64, and on rebellion in Bicl. 65. On details of these agreements, the Merovingian and Visigothic context, the coordinates of the conflict and the literature on this matter, see Castellanos, Los godos y la cruz.

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Following victory over Audeca, the Visigothic troops defeated Malaric – also portrayed by John as a tyrant – using the same formula he had employed for Hermenegild, tirannidem assumens, and almost identical to that he had used for Audeca (cum tirannide assummit). In his chronicle, John uses Leovigild’s campaigns as the basis for legitimising the regnum Gothorum and justifying the incorporation of local and regional powers into its territory, depicting these as rebels and usurpers with respect to the power that John is legitimising through his use of the past.23 Thus, the succession of his other son, Reccared, is presented by John as a logical and peaceful process, cum tranquillitate.24 Thereafter, John constructs his model of apotheosis around Reccared, in particular with the king’s conversion to Catholicism, his generosity in returning confiscated property and the foundation of churches and monasteries, the defeat of attempts at usurpation and the conversion of the kingdom as a political system to Catholicism. For the revolt that took place in Merida – led by the Arian bishop Sunna and described in detail in Vitas Sanctorum Patrum Emeretensium – John adds the leadership of Segga and again uses the concept of tyranny with the verb assumere (tirannidem assumere, he writes in his entry). He also adds that Sunna was exiled and Segga’s hands were cut off. In the case of the revolt of the bishops Uldila and Gosvinth, these appear as insidiantes, and as with Sunna, the bishop is exiled. For Argimund’s revolt against Reccared around 589/590, John once again uses the now recurrent expression, tirannidem assumere. By the time John writes about the attempts to usurp Reccared in his chronicle, he has already consolidated the idea of the kingdom’s legitimacy through his numerous entries devoted to Leovigild’s campaigns. Hence, Reccared’s decisions with respect to the usurpers are presented as logical and unsurprising responses to tyrannical threats.25 Isidore of Seville wrote his chronicle in two stages, in 615 and 626. Clearly appointing Leovigild rex Gothorum – in an key entry since it comprises an overall assessment – he states that the king managed to control the regiones of Hispania (Spania in the text). He uses the verbal form redigit, which has the sense of control but also of regaining something over which dominion 23 Bicl. 67. Total victory over Audeca in Bicl. 72. The episode of Malaric in Bicl. 76. On the internal problems of the Sueve court and the role of Audeca, see Díaz, El reino suevo, pp. 150–152, with an analysis of the sources. 24 Bicl. 79. 25 Ibid., 84 (conversion of the king); 86 (return of property, foundation of churches and monasteries); 87 (revolt of Sunna and Segga); 89 (revolt of Uldila and Gosvinth); 91 (Third Council of Toledo); 93 (Argimund). On the exiles, see Vallejo, ‘Exilios’.

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is considered legitimate, and if this was not done it was because of being rebels, rebelles.26 Isidore uses expressions such as proelio mouens to refer to Agila’s campaign against Corduba. 27 Although in the case of Athanagild, Isidore focuses both on the civil war against Agila and on battles with the Imperial troops that had previously supported him, with the majority of his references to dominion over local powers concerning Leovigild. In general, Isidore presents this latter’s reign as being dominated by the desire to expand the kingdom and to profit from war: ampliare regnum bello et augere opes, in the long version, with the occasional variant on the long version. Leovigild’s first campaigns in the north and north-west against the Cantabri, Ruccones and Sappi are described with words such as obtinuit, cepit and deuicta est (in the long version), in a brief sample of Isidore’s portrayal of Leovigild’s campaigns throughout Hispania. In hostilities against other powers (potentes in the short version, nobilissimos ac potentissimos in the long version), which in this context Isidore presents as quibusdam suorum perniciosus, his use of suorum should be interpreted as referring to the Gothic aristocracy, which by that time would have attained a territorial dimension as local powers in the major cities (for example Emerita, Toletum, Hispalis and Tarraco) and the rural territoria. For these cases, Isidore employs terms of explicit violence or imposition. This is the case for executions (capite truncauit) or exile (exilium), but with another element that would become a determining factor in the functioning of the kingdom: confiscations and enrichment of the treasury through expropriation of enemy properties: primusque aerarium de rapinis ciuium hostiumque manubiis auxit (long version).28 One of Reccared’s virtues that Isidore praises the most highly is his successful approach to war, which he therefore conducts gloriously (egit etiam gloriose bellum) against enemy peoples, aduersus infestas gentes. However, he now also notes that Reccared succeeded with the help of faith, fidei suscepto auxilio. Thus, from Reccared onwards, Isidore identifies the bellum undertaken by the rex as evidence of good governance by a Catholic king. Although he had earlier praised Leovigild for his military campaigns, he was also critical of his religious policy. In line with the approach taken by John of Biclaro years before, the schema devised by Isidore represents this 26 Isid. Chron. 1. 403, ed. Martin Iglesias, with all questions of authorship and dating. 27 Isid. HG 45 (Corduba), ed. Rodríguez Alonso. 28 Isid. HG 49; 51 (Leovigild). On the complexity of the reign of Leovigild, see García Moreno, Leovigildo. On the exiles, see Vallejo, ‘Exilios’. On confiscations, see Díaz, ‘Confiscations’.

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moment as the pinnacle of his teleological ideology, in a culminating point after which the Gothic monarchy is Catholic and the bellum undertaken by the king is an action justified by the monarchy’s religious orthodoxy. Military elements are mixed in with this conversion to Catholicism in such a way that Leovigild’s inclination to war is apparently contrasted with Reccared’s inclination to peace.29 However, following this distinction, and after an entry concerning the Third Council of Toledo (589), Isidore details the deployment of war to overcome local resistance, and references his victories over the Franks and battles with the Imperial powers. In the case of inland campaigns in Hispania, he cites the Vascones. Isidore chooses an expression which implies that rather than an open war, this was a kind of military exercise like those of the palaestra, quasi in palaestrae ludu.30 However, Isidore also maintains the contrast between his two exempla, a Leovigild sustained by battle and a Reccared by peace, by using the nouns proelio and pace in the ablative case. Furthermore, in both the long and short versions, he adds aequitate and moderamine, despite also having included references to the latter’s campaigns. Immediately after these expressions in the short version, Isidore notes that Reccared had overcome attempts to usurp him, tyrannidem adsumere. However, he does not use any verbs or nouns indicating explicit violence, intentionally toning down Reccared’s action, which, as is known from other sources such as John of Biclaro and the Vitas Sanctorum Patrum Emeretensium (VSPE), involved an armed assault met by an equally armed response.31 Isidore’s construction of the exemplum of Reccared culminates in a string of his positive qualities. In particular, it is worth noting his mention of the return of property that his father had confiscated.32 This is a deliberate contrast. The two exempla are as opposed in this respect as in the case of religious policy: taxation, religion and confiscation compared with donations are the three pivotal elements used to construct the two models with which Isidore presents the past of the generation to which his brother Leander had belonged, whom he well knew had been a decisive agent in the pact between the Catholic bishops and broad sectors of the Gothic aristocracy and its monarchy as an institution. 29 Isid. HG 52 (Leovigild/Reccared contrast). 30 Isid. HG 54. On the context of the campaigns in the north, see Castellanos, ‘Astures’; Díaz, Menéndez Bueyes, ‘Romanos’. 31 Isid. HG 55. On the attempts to usurp Reccared, see Castellanos, Los godos. 32 Isid. HG 55–56.

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Notably, the terms indicating violence that Isidore avoids using when discussing those who attempted to usurp Reccared, who were defeated and therefore had no place in the peaceful portrait he wished to present, reappear when describing the elimination of Liuva II, Reccared’s son. The usurpation (603) was led by Witteric, whom the VSPE states had already conspired against Reccared around 587/589, but had desisted and subsequently collaborated with the king, the Catholic bishop Masona and the dux Claudius. Isidore resumes his use of the concept of war in his recreation of the past and the history of a king, in this case to demonstrate that although Witteric (603–610) was a warlike monarch, he did not win any significant victories. Other sources from outside Hispania indicate that he attempted to forge alliances with several European monarchies, but that his efforts were in vain. As with some of the other Gothic kings, he died a violent death in the context of internal rivalries, at the hands of leading Gothic nobles.33 In the case of Sisebut (612–621), Isidore highlights a series of the king’s qualities regarding his support for the arts, but employs a similar schema to that used for Reccared to refer to his military skills. In relation to war, besides the now traditional expeditions against Imperial powers, he mentions campaigns to quell riots or local or regional opposition and refers to the Astures and Ruccones using verbal forms such as reduxit and euicit/ deuicit.34 It is well known that Isidore dated the end of the Imperial presence in Hispania to the reign of Suinthila (621–631). Consequently, this question becomes central to the creation of the exemplum on Suinthila in the long version of his Historia Gothorum. In relation to the campaigns to quell riots or local powers, he deploys a highly rhetorical discourse to discuss another campaign against the Vascones, who would have carried out some kind of expansion in Tarraconensis.35

Conclusions There is a dual conceptual dimension to the two cases analysed here: John and Isidore. On one hand, their numerous references to conquests reflect 33 Isid. HG 57, the usurpation was probably violent, and also entailed his right hand being cut off, a violent act that symbolised the king’s inability to exercise power. On Witteric’s role in the revolt of Emerita, VSPE 5.10–11, ed. Maya Sánchez. On Merida in the Visigothic period, see Sastre de Diego, Mérida, with all the previous bibliography. Isid. HG 58 on Witteric as a warrior. Fredeg. 4.30–31, ed. Devillers, Meyers. 34 Isid. HG 61. 35 Ibid., 62–63.

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one of the spheres of monarchical power: war and conquest. In Gothic ideology, the rex was founded on military leadership in the fourth century, which had evolved into a complex history that is impossible to summarise here. The territorial expansion of the regnum Gothorum during the fifth century in southern Gaul greatly enlarged the scope of monarchical power in the fields of justice, legislation and taxation, among other elements. War had always been an essential aspect of the power of kings and what was expected of them. The period of the Gothic kingdom of Hispania was no exception. However, it was transformed into a more elaborate sense of monarchical ideology, especially after the pact that led to the regnum Gothorum converting to Catholicism. Between the late sixth and early seventh centuries, with the creation of an episcopal version of the ideology of the kingdom, from Leander of Seville onwards, and the composition of chronicles and histories by John of Biclaro and Isidore of Seville, this dimension was inserted into the Catholic universe. This is demonstrated by the analysis conducted here of the lexicon used to describe relations between central and local powers in John of Biclaro and Isidore of Seville. The historiae and chronicles were composed as a teleological compendium in which military reports served a higher goal, which was to emphasise the primacy of a Catholic kingdom that overcame its enemies. In the eyes of the Catholic episcopate, this justified the very existence of the regnum and therefore the pre-eminence of its Catholic bishops.36

Works cited Arce, Javier, Bárbaros y romanos en Hispania, 400–507 A.D. (Madrid: Marcial Pons, 2005). Arce, Javier, Esperando a los árabes. Los visigodos en Hispania (507–711) (Madrid: Marcial Pons, 2011). Barbero, Abilio and Vigil, Marcelo, Sobre los orígenes sociales de la Reconquista (Barcelona: Ariel, 1974). Barbero, Abilio and Vigil, Marcelo, La formación del feudalismo en la Península Ibérica (Barcelona: Crítica, 1978). Campos, Julio, Juan de Bíclaro. Obispo de Gerona. Su vida y su obra (Madrid: CSIC, 1960). Castellanos, Santiago, ‘Astures, Cantabri, Vascones. The Peoples of the Spanish North during the Late and Post-Roman Period’, in Neglected Barbarians: The Smaller 36 Respectively, Valverde Castro, Ideología, and Wood, Politics of Identity.

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Barbarian Peoples of Early Medieval Europe, ed. by Florin Curta (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011), pp. 479–502. Castellanos, Santiago, Los godos y la cruz. Recaredo y la unidad de Spania (Madrid: Alianza Editorial, 2007). Castellanos, Santiago, ‘Redefiniendo el poder local en la “Hispania” tardoantigua. Hacia el “loci senior”’, in Magistrados locales de ‘Hispania’. Aspectos históricos, jurídicos, lingüísticos, ed. by Estíbaliz Ortiz de Urbina (Vitoria-Gasteiz: Universidad del País Vasco, 2013), pp. 333–348. Castellanos, Santiago, ‘Isidore of Seville: Historical Contexts’ in A Companion to Isidore of Seville, ed. by Andrew Fear and Jamie Wood (Leiden: Brill, 2020), pp. 21–41. Catalán, Raúl, Patricia Fuentes, and José Carlos Sastre (eds.), Las fortificaciones en la Tardoantigüedad. Élites y articulación del territorio (siglos V–VIII d. C.) (Madrid: La Ergástula, 2014). Consularia Caesaraugustana, ed. Carmen Cardelle de Hartmann, Victoris Tunnunensis Chronicon cum reliquiis ex Consularibus Caesaraugustanis et Iohannis Biclarensis Chronicon. CCSL 173 A (Turnhout: Brepols, 2001). Diarte Blasco, Pilar, Late Antique and Early Medieval Hispania: Landscapes Without Strategy? (Oxford: Oxbow, 2018). Díaz, Pablo C., ‘La Hispania visigoda’, in Hispania tardoantigua y visigoda, ed. by Francisco Javier Sanz Huesma and Clelia Martínez Maza (Madrid: Istmo, 2007), pp. 257–611. Díaz, Pablo C., ‘Barbarians in the 5th Century Hispania’, in Le trasformthezioni del V secolo. L’Italia, i barbari e l’Occidente romano, ed. By Paolo Delogu and Stefano Gasparri (Turnhout: Brepols, 2010), pp. 183–214. Díaz, Pablo C., El reino suevo, 411–585. Madrid: Akal, 2011. Díaz, Pablo C., ‘Confiscations in the Visigothic Reign of Toledo: A Political Instrument’, in Expropriations et confiscations dans les royaumes barbares. Une approche régionale, ed. by Pierfrancesco Porena and Yann Riviére (Rome: École Française de Rome, 2012), pp. 93–112. Díaz, Pablo C., and Luis R. Menéndez Bueyes, ‘Romanos, visigodos e indígenas. Las comunidades del norte de Hispania en los inicios de la Edad Media [cuarenta años después]’, Nailos, Anejos 3 (2016), 161–189. Díaz y Díaz, M. C., ‘Introducción general’, in San Isidoro de Sevilla, I, Etimologías, ed. by José Oroz and Manuel A. Marcos Casquero (Madrid: Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, 1993), pp. 7–257. Fernández, Damián, Aristocrats and Statehood in Western Iberia, 300–600 CE (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2017). Fontaine, J., Isidore de Séville et la culture classique dans l’Espagne wisigothique (Paris: Études Augustiniennes, 1982).

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Fredegar, Chronica, ed. Olivier Devillers and Jean Meyers, Frédégaire. Chronique des temps mérovingienes (Turnhout: Brepols, 2001). Galán Sánchez, Pedro Juan, El género historiográfico de la Chronica. Las crónicas hispanas de época visigoda (Cáceres: Universidad de Extremadura, 1994). García Moreno, Luis A., Leovigildo. Unidad y diversidad de un reinado (Madrid: Real Academia de la Historia, 2008). Ghosh, Shami, Writing the Barbarian Past: Studies in Early Medieval Historical Narrative (Leiden: Brill, 2016). Gutiérrez González, José Avelino, ‘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, Patricia Fuentes, and José Carlos Sastre (Madrid: La Ergástula, 2014) , pp. 191–214. Isidore of Seville, Chronica, ed. José Carlos Martín Iglesias, Isidori Hispalensis Chronica, CCSL 112 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2003). Isidore of Seville, Historiae Gothorum, Vandalorum et Sueuorum, ed. Cristóbal Rodríguez Alonso, Las historias de los godos, vándalos y suevos de Isidoro de Sevilla (León: Centro de Estudios e Investigación San Isidoro, 1975). Isidore of Seville, De uiris illustribus, ed. Carmen Codoñer, El ‘De viris illustribus’ de Ildefonso de Toledo (Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca, 1972). John of Biclaro, Chronicon, ed. Carmen Cardelle de Hartmann, Victoris Tunnunensis Chronicon cum reliquiis ex Consularibus Caesaraugustanis et Iohannis Biclarensis Chronicon, CCSL 173A (Turnhout: Brepols, 2001). Koch, Manuel, ‘Gotthi intra Hispanias sedes acceperunt. Consideraciones sobre la supuesta inmigración visigoda en la Península Ibérica’, Pyrenae, 37.2 (2006), 83–104. Kulikowski, Michael, Late Roman Spain and Its Cities (Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2004). Leges Visigothorum, ed. Karl Zeumer, MGH Leges Nationum Germanicarum, 1. Leges Visigothorum (Hannover: Hahn, 1902=2005). Liebeschuetz, J. H. W. G., ‘Making a Gothic History: Does the Getica of Jordanes Preserve Genuinely Gothic Traditions?’, Journal of Late Antiquity, 4.2 (2011), 185–216. Liebeschuetz, J. H. W. G., ‘Goths and Romans in the Leges Visigothorum’ in Integration in Rome and in the Roman World, ed. by Gerda de Kleijn and Stéphane Benoist (Leiden: Brill, 2014), pp. 89–104. Martin, Céline, La géographie du pouvoir dans l’Espagne visigothique (Lille: Presses Universitaires du Septentrion, 2003). Martín Iglesias, José Carlos, Escritos medievales en honor del obispo Isidoro de Sevilla (Turnhout: Brepols, 2017).

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Martín Viso, Iñaki, ‘Castella y elites en el suroeste de la Meseta del Duero postromana’, in Las fortificaciones en la Tardoantigüedad. Élites y articulación del territorio (siglos V–VIII d. C.), ed. by Raúl Catalán, Patricia Fuentes, and José Carlos Sastre (Madrid: La Ergástula, 2014), pp. 247–274. Martínez Jiménez, Javier, Sastre de Diego, Isaac and Tejerizo, Carlos. The Iberian Peninsula between 300 and 850: An Archaeological Perspective (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2018). Menéndez Bueyes, Luis Ramón, Reflexiones críticas sobre el origen del reino de Asturias (Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca, 2001). Olmo, Lauro, ‘Recópolis. La construcción de un nuevo paisaje en época visigoda’ in Territorio, topografía y arquitectura, ed. by Isabel Sánchez Ramos and Pedro Mateos Cruz, pp. 237–259. Pozo Flores, Mikel, ‘Las fuentes en Juan de Bíclaro’, Studia Historica. Historia Medieval 32 (2014), 161–185. Quirós Castillo, Juan Antonio, Tejado Sebastián, José Mª. (eds.), Los castillos altomedievales en el noroeste de la Península Ibérica (Bilbao: Universidad del País Vasco, 2012). Reimitz, Helmut, History, Frankish Identity and the Framing of Western Ethnicity, 550–850 (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2015). Sánchez Ramos, Isabel, Mateos Cruz, Pedro (eds.), Territorio, topografía y arquitectura de poder durante la Antigüedad Tardía (Mérida: Instituto de Arqueología, 2018). Sastre de Diego, Isaac, Mérida capital cristiana. De Roma a Al-Andalus (Mérida: Museo Nacional de Arte Romano, 2015). Vallejo, Margarita, ‘Los exilios de católicos y arrianos bajo Leovigildo y Recaredo’, Hispania Sacra 55 (2003), 35–48. Valverde Castro, Mª Rosario, Ideología, simbolismo y ejercicio del poder real en la monarquía visigoda: un proceso de cambio (Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca, 2000). Velázquez, Isabel, ‘La doble redacción de la Historia Gothorum de Isidoro de Sevilla’, in L’édition critique des oeuvres d’Isidore de Séville. Les recensions multiples, ed. by María Adelaida Andrés Sanz, Jacques Elfassi, and José Carlos Martín (Paris: Institut d’Études Augustiniennes, 2008), pp. 91–126. Velázquez, Isabel, ‘Revisiones de autor y de copistas en las obras de Isidoro de Sevilla. A propósito de la Historia Gothorum,’ AnTard 23 (2015), 67–79. Wood, Jamie, The Politics of Identity in Visigothic Spain. Religion and Power in the Histories of Isidore of Seville (Leiden: Brill, 2012). Vitas Sanctorum Patrum Emeretensium, ed. Antonio Maya Sánchez, Vitas Sanctorum Patrum Emeretensium, CCSL 116 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1992).

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About the author Santiago Castellanos is Professor of Ancient History at the University of León, Spain. He was a visiting scholar at the University of Oxford, and guest research professor at the University of Notre Dame, USA. He is the author of Los godos y la cruz and The Visigothic Kingdom in Iberia.

11. The Contemplation of the Past in the Libellus Precum of Faustinus(and Marcellinus) José Fernández Ubiña

Abstract The Arian controversy, which, at the beginning, was nothing but a theological debate around the figure of Christ, very soon became the identity flag of the most important ecclesial factions of the fourth century. Although ideologically very close to the victorious Catholic faction, the authors of the Libellus precum lament the moral degradation of the victors and the opportunism of countless heretical clerics who have not hesitated to join the winning side. The faithful to the true doctrine, in whose name the Libellus is written, ask for protection from the emperor Theodosius, appealing to a social and religious past that they reconstruct from their peculiar and interested point of view, with abundant illustrations, positive and negative, of the Hispanic Church. Keywords: Arian controversy, Luciferians, reconstruction of the past, persecution, rigorist

Although numerous sources exist from the second half of the fourth century that show concern for the situation in the Church in Hispania, perhaps the most passionate and eloquent is the Libellus precum by Faustinus and Marcellinus (hereafter, LP)1 In a particularly harsh manner, the authors detailed and denounced the opportunism, ambition, and worldly interests 1 The signatories of this libellus were the Roman priests Faustinus and Marcellinus, followers of the Luciferian bishop Ephesius of Rome, although its composition, completed in Constantinople (LP 6 and 92), was the work of the former. Unless otherwise indicated, translations are my own.

Ubric Rabaneda, P. (ed.), Writing History in Late Antique Iberia: Historiography in Theory and Practice from the Fourth to the Seventh Century. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2022 doi 10.5117/9789463729413_ch11

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of many clerics who falsely proclaimed themselves as Catholics and, at the same time, persecuted those who remained faithful to the Nicene Creed with unusual cruelty. In a previous work, I described the verisimilitude of the events chronicled in the LP in the style of a pleading brief presented at court, and formally addressed to the three reigning emperors at that time (Valentinian II, Theodosius, and Arcadius). The authenticity of the story is also supported by the rescript, or Lex augusta (hereafter, LA), which offered an official response to the libellus, taking the truth and the seriousness of its content for granted.2 Perhaps the most original aspect of this text is its recalling of the historical past in order to explain the current situation, particularly the doctrinal rectitude of some Nicenist loyals, who were unjustly persecuted by Catholic opportunists. To this end, its story highlights the most favourable events in their cause, and silences others that could have done it harm. The result could only be a particular reworking of the past, as we aim to show in the following pages.

Crucial moments and events of the conflict, according to the LP Although the complex religious evolution that characterised the fourth century is well known nowadays, the authors of the LP simplify it and reduce it to three key events: A) the Council of Nicaea (325); B) the claudication of the Catholic episcopate in the councils of Rimini and Seleucia (359); and C) the rehabilitation, venia ex poenitentia, of the prevaricating clerics3 in various councils and by diverse ecclesial authorities from 361 to 363. A) Indeed, Faustinus and Marcellinus give unprecedented importance to the Nicene Creed, which, for them, was not just the only formula of orthodox faith, but also a sacred text, comparable to the biblical books (LP 9–10). In fact, they do not hesitate to compare the ‘Nicene Fathers’ with 2 Its formal presentation before the Theodosian court must have occurred between 25 August 383 (the date on which Valentinian II became the sole emperor in the West) and 11 December 384 (the date Damasus, whom the LP frequently alludes, dies). Although formally addressed to the three reigning emperors, it seems that the signatories of the LP thought only of Emperor Theodosius (LP 123). Regarding its content, editions, and historical reliability, cf. Fernández Ubiña, ‘El Libellus precum’, pp. 103–123; Fernández Ubiña, ‘Los clérigos marginados’, pp. 21–49. The most recent critical edition, with notes and translation into French, is that of Canellis, Faustin (et Marcellin) Supplique aux empereurs. 3 The term praevaricatio and its derivatives (especially praevaricator) appears more than fifty times in the LP, always meaning betrayal or traitor to the Nicene Creed. Cf. Escribano Paño, ‘La prevaricación episcopal’, pp. 303–326.

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the apostles themselves. 4 In exalting this council in such a way, Faustinus and Marcellinus failed to explain that – a few years after its sessions were closed – Constantine decreed the exoneration of Arius and ordered Bishop Alexander of Constantinople to readmit him into his church. In the absence of any reasonable explanation, and assuming that the emperor was the highest authority in the Church in both disciplinary and doctrinal matters their only defence was to counteract that authority with that of Christ, Everlasting King of Kings (LP 7), who responded to Alexander’s pleas by causing Arius horrific death. In fact, Arius died suddenly in Constantinople shortly before his readmission was consummated, so his death could logically be interpreted as a divine judgement. In any case, Athanasius understood the event in this way, as can be seen from his work De morte Arii, written around 358. According to him, the great heresiarch was literally struck down by a divine decision that took place in the city’s public toilets, so that his body came to be confused with his excrements, thus giving a clear image of the corruption and evil of Arius as a man and of his doctrine. Most fifth-century ecclesiastical historians repeated Athanasius’s version of this event (he claimed to have received the information from a deacon who witnessed it), and so did the authors of the LP (6–9). In any case, the unexpected death of Arius seemed to confirm the divine will and doctrine, and that is why the LP would hereafter identify Arius’s ideas with those of his sympathisers and followers. So, Arius and Arianism would be, without further clarification, equivalent terms in the LP, just as they had been in the work of Athanasius.5 B) In the LP’s account of the Arian evils, the reign of Constantius (337–361) is considered decisive. The heretics fraudulently gained imperial support (LP, 12) and, as a result, attracted many followers to their cause. Some Catholic bishops, especially in Egypt, even accepted their clerical degradation – only to be later ordained again by the heretics (LP 48 and 94). At the same time, a ruthless persecution against the Nicene faithful was unleashed, individually at the beginning (LP 13, 20–27), and then collectively. However, this distinction is a subtle distortion of history. What they call ‘individual 4 LP 5, 9, 10, 14, 15, 18, 55, 114. 5 This despite multiple testimonies contrary to this assimilation. Remember, for example, that the first Creed approved at the Council of Antioch in 341 began saying ‘we are not Arius’ followers, because how, being bishops, can we follow a presbyter?’ (Simonetti, La crisi ariana del IV secolo, pp. 154–155). Remember also that the bishops gathered in Nike (Thrace) in 359, from a Homoean tendency, swore not to be Arians; or that Auxentius, Bishop of Milan, denied even knowing Arius or have a connection with him (Hilary, Contra Auxentius: PL 10, 8, 614 and 615). Cf. Canellis, ‘Arius et les ‘ariens’, pp. 489–501.

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persecution’ was actually a series of decisions made by councils that approved the condemnation of Athanasius or accepted formulas of faith of a subordinationist nature, thus satisfying the will of Constantius. In this respect, the synods held in Arles (353), Milan (355) and Sirmium (357) were the most important, but Faustinus and Marcellinus completely ignored them and only took the Western Council of Rimini, held in 359, into account – and its Eastern parallel in Seleucia, which is mentioned in passing. Here, in Rimini, the great debacle of the Latin episcopate took place, which for them was the fruit of the ‘general persecution’. The LP acknowledges – and regrets – that persecutions prior to Rimini only led to the heroic resistance of ‘very few bishops’ (paucissimorum episcoporum) (LP 20), who opted for exile, torture, and even death. They were so few in number that they can quote all of their names and annotate their lives (LP 21–27): Paulinus of Trier, Lucifer of Cagliari, Eusebius of Vercelli, Dionysius of Milan ( familiaris of Constantius, according to LP 23), Rodanius of Toulouse, Hilary of Poitiers, Maximus of Naples, Rufininus, and ‘a very few’ (pauculi) Egyptian bishops (LP 27). Some of them (Paulinus, Dionysius, and Maximus) died in exile. However, the worst fate was suffered by Rufininus, who was cruelly tortured to death by Bishop Epictetus of Centumcellae.6 The LP focuses on the life and work of Lucifer, hero of these radical Nicenists (LP 85–91), and accuses the Catholic Hilary of Poitiers of prevarication (LP 24) due to Hilary advocating reconciliation – venia ex penitentia – with the lapsi bishops after the death of Constantius. The authors of the LP do not dare to say so much about Eusebius of Vercelli, although he also endorsed the pardon for the lapsi. However, they only mention his name and say nothing about his audacity at the Council of Milan (summoned by Constantius in 355), where Eusebius of Vercelli demanded that all those present – mostly subordinationist bishops submissive to the emperor – should ratify the Nicene Creed.7 6 The LP (26) states that Epictetus, an ‘atrocious and cruel bishop’ (atrox et dirus episcopus), caused the death of Rufininus by forcing him to run in front of his carriage until he fell, exhausted. Despite such criminal behaviour, Pope Liberius had no qualms about asking for his intercession (and that of other Arian bishops) before Constantius, claiming that he had already condemned and excommunicated Athanasius, so that the emperor would put an end to his exile and allow him to return to Rome (Collectanae Antiariana, VII, 10). 7 This narrative was very popular at that time, although today its historical verisimilitude is questioned. Cf. Canellis, Faustin (et Marcellin) Supplique aux empereurs, pp. 24–25; Simonetti, ‘Eusebio nella controversia ariana’, pp. 155–179; Washburn, ‘Tormenting the Tormentors’, pp. 732–733, n. 6 (with abundant bibliography). As stated by Eusebius of Vercelli himself (Ep. 2), he was also subjected to a similar torture during his exile in Scythopolis of Palestine, where he was supervised by the local bishop, the Arian Patrophile.

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The authors of the LP conclude, quite rightly, that if the resistance had been wider, Constantius would have restrained himself with his pro-Arian policy and would have understood the value of the Nicene Creed (LP 28). But this did not happen and the Arians – feeling they had the support of the emperor (imperatoris auxilio) – imposed their beliefs on the councils of Seleucia and Rimini (LP 13). It was then that the Catholic episcopate gave up the Nicene Creed and adhered to Arianism. This claudication was motivated exclusively by the emperor’s threats and favours, by the episcopal attachment to their seats and to the properties owned by their churches (LP 14–18). The LP (30) asks the emperors (Theodosius, in particular) which side they would support: the many transgressors and heretics, or those few who were faithful to Christ. Obviously, this is a rhetorical question because, at that time, Theodosius had already promulgated several laws in favour of the Nicene Creed as the only formula of orthodox faith. These laws explicitly considered those who did not comply as heretics.8 In the same way that Constantine’s policy (favourable to Arius) was condemned by the deity through the fulminating death of the heretic, the authors of the LP argue that Constantius’s policy (also supportive of Arianism) was condemned by God through the sudden death of three prevaricating Hispanic bishops: Potamius of Lisbon, Florentius of Merida, and Osius of Corduba. This leads us to believe that Arianism, which was sponsored by the emperor, had a wide following in Hispania. Potamius must have been a bishop who was close to the monarch, since he was personally rewarded with a public estate for his prevarication ( fundus fiscalis). Osius, who continued to remain faithful to the Nicene Creed, ensured that Potamius was condemned as a heretic by the Hispanic bishops9 – but Potamius appealed to Constantius. The emperor then summoned Osius and persuaded him to enthusiastically join the Arian cause (LP 32). God, according to the LP, immediately punished both bishops with sudden death. Indeed, we know that Osius died before 360 (although already a centenarian). Furthermore, according to the LP 8 About this legislation, cf. Canellis, Faustin (et Marcellin) Supplique aux empereurs, pp. 59–63, and Escribano Paño, ‘Teodosio y los heréticos’, pp. 132–133. 9 The LP 32 states that Osius unmasked Potamius before the Hispanic churches (apud ecclesias Hispaniarum detexit) and expelled him as an impious heretic. It gives the impression that the Cordovan bishop acted with an authority that, strictly speaking, only councils had. It seems, therefore, probable that Potamius was condemned, by Osius’ denunciation, in some synod of the Diocesis Hispaniarum of which we lack other historical references, which could have been held in 355 or 356. Cf. Montes Moreira, Potamius de Lisbonne and ‘Le retour de Potamius de Lisbonne’, pp. 303–354.

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(41–42), Potamius died suddenly ‘as all Hispania knows’, when hurrying to see the country estate that had been given to him by Constantius. Blinded by their intransigence, the signatories of the LP were pleased to emphasise that divine punishment afflicts those Catholics who fraternised with heretics with equal severity. This is evidenced by the terrible suffering and death of Bishop Florentius of Merida as a result of him communing with Osius and Potamius in the knowledge that they were prevaricators (LP 43–45).10 Once again, they insist that this fate awaits all apostates and their accomplices (LP 45–47), who are only motivated by the auctoritas of the episcopale nomen, the ecclesiae possessiones and honores (LP 49, 68, 87, 117).11 On the other hand, the auctoritas – the power, wealth, and prestige that the episcopal status acquired at that time – explains the reverence that was sometimes given to certain bishops by the magistrates of the Empire. The LP presents some illustrative anecdotes, among them a description of the confrontation between Osius and Bishop Gregory of Iliberis (LP 33–40). When the latter opposed the heresy sponsored by Constantius, Osius summoned him to Cordova to have his refusal judged before Clementinus, uicarius Hispaniarum.12 According to the LP (32), Osius had received the imperial order (regis iussio) to exile the bishops who did not commune with him. Apparently, only the Bishop of Iliberis confronted him and was, therefore, judged in the capital of the Baetica. Although Iliberis was a relevant episcopal see, as shown by having received one of the oldest and most famous councils of Hispania at the beginning of the fourth century –in which the then young 10 This Bishop of Merida participated in the Synod of Serdica in 343. Some historians consider him the f irst ‘metropolitan’, but this statement is not consistent because the f igure of the metropolitan was defined legally in the West, and particularly in Hispania, at the end of the fifth century or the beginning of the sixth century. About this subject, cf. Mansilla, ‘Orígenes de la organización metropolitana’, pp. 1–36; Sotomayor, Historia de la Iglesia en España, p. 380; García Moreno, ‘Élites e Iglesia hispanas’, pp. 226–228, and Vilella, ‘Las iglesias y las cristiandades hispanas’, pp. 153–158. 11 The authors of the LP insist on these mundane motivations, without noticing that in the classical world, and increasingly among the episcopate (be they orthodox or heretic), they were considered positive values. Cf. Teja, ‘La cristianización de los modelos clásicos’, pp. 213–230. It could be recalled, in this regard, that even the great Basilius often indulged in arrogance, tyranny and the thirst for power, as his best friends reproached him (Basilius, Epp. 48 and 56; Gregory of Nazianzus, De vita sua, 390–420, 460). 12 Regarding the vicarius, Clementinus we only know this reference of the LP. At that time (c. 357) the vicarius, residing in Merida, was the highest authority of the Diocesis Hispaniarum, integrated by the five Peninsular provinces (Tarraconensis, Carthaginensis, Baetica, Lusitania, Gallaecia) and the North African one of Mauritania Tingitana.

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and Catholic Osius participated13 – the current head of that chair, Gregory, was known by very few. Furthermore, he was considered an ‘inexperienced’ (rudis) bishop (LP 34). The LP highlights the fact that the confrontation involved two completely dissimilar bishops: the old Osius, an expert in the theological controversy and assisted by an imperial mandate, and the young Gregory, inexperienced in theological subtleties and summoned as an accused before the vicar of the Diocesis. To further accentuate the dissimilarity of these contenders, the LP (35) states that Osius acted not only as a judge, but in a manner that was superior to a judge (iudex, immo et supra iudicem). This was because he was a representative of the emperor ( fretus regali imperio). However, the young Gregory challenged and refuted old Osius with surprising mastery and skill. Furthermore, he made him feel condemned by the words he himself had written when he was a defender of the true faith. Seeing himself thus unmasked, Osius could only ask the vicar to execute the imperial order without further delay. However, Clementinus, although not a Christian, felt ‘great reverence for the episcopal title’ (reuerentiam nomini episcopatus) and refused to condemn Gregory before he was deposed. He addressed Osius with these words: ‘I dare not send into exile he who still holds the episcopal title. Condemn him first, deprive him of the dignity of the episcopate and then I will execute against him, as a private individual, what by order of the emperor you wish to be done’ (LP 36). When Osius tried to pronounce the sentence, he was struck down by sudden death – like so many other heretics and transgressors. All those present were full of admiration, but also terrified. Clementinus himself, being a pagan (gentilis), feared suffering the same punishment as Osius, and prostrated himself at Gregory’s feet, begging him for forgiveness because he had sinned by ignorance of the divine law, not by choice’ (LP 38). In this way, the LP (39) concludes that the bishop (Osius) who wanted to pronounce a human sentence suffered a much more serious divine sentence. Furthermore, the judge (Clementinus) paled like an accused man afraid of his judgement. Finally, the bishop (Gregory) who appeared as a criminal became a judge to whom the earthly judge asked for a pardon. Following this, Gregory became the only defender of the true faith who was not exiled. In narrating this episode, the authors of the LP do not specify dates – but it was some time after the council of Sirmium in 357, whose subordinationist Creed Osius tried to impose. However, they present the fulminating death 13 Cf. Sotomayor and Fernández Ubiña, El concilio de Elvira y su tiempo, with studies on the most important and controversial aspects of that town and that synod.

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of the Cordovan bishop as the most signif icant divine punishment for the generalised claudication of the episcopate in the Council of Rimini, which was held two years later.14 Anyway, it is very useful to compare this event with one that occurred years later in Rome, when Pope Damasus carried out a fierce persecution against various Luciferian clerics (LP 79–85). Among them was Bishop Aurelius, who was in communion with Gregory of Elvira (LP 77); the presbyter, exorcist, and ascetic Macarius (LP 78–80); and the Roman bishop Ephesius (LP 84–85) – all harassed for their true faith. Damasus harassed Macarius with his own clerics (clerici Damasi) and with the administration’s personnel (cum officialibus). Taken before the judge (iudex), who got nothing out of him by threats, Macarius was sentenced into exile and died shortly afterwards in Ostia due to his wounds. His remains were buried in a martyrial basilica at the behest of the local bishop Florentius who, surprisingly, was a friend of Damasus. This is another instance of fraternisation, despite clerical factions, but the LP pays it scant attention. In this case, and in that of Aurelius, Damasus used pagan lawyers and friendly judges and followed the laws issued by Theodosius against the heretics (LP 83).15 The authors of the LP (83) wonder whether the blood of these innocents might fall on the Roman Empire, and even presuppose (112–113) that these religious offences brought about, as a divine punishment, the numerous calamities (plagae) that plagued the Roman world and which were well known by the emperors.16 All this was despite the fact that, in the case of Ephesius, the urban prefect Bassus – who was a Christian and acquainted with Lucifer – intervened as a judge, refused to believe that Ephesius was a heretic and, consequently, acquitted him, making Pope Damasus blush with shame (LP 85). Professor Guido Clemente17 masterfully unveiled, on one hand, the religious, legal and political framework that underlay the fiasco of the persecution carried out by Pope Damasus, and, on the other, the complex situation of an era that witnessed the formation of a powerful episcopal authority – one that was caught in an uneasy balance with the institutional authorities of the Empire. This balance was tested in the aforementioned trials against Gregory and Ephesius, bishops who were faithful to the Nicene Creed and who were judged by secular authorities according to the religious 14 That inaccuracy of the LP has confused even some modern historians. Cf. Torres, ‘El uso retórico de la violencia’, p. 112. 15 About this legislation, cf. supra, n. 7. 16 The signatories of the LP seem to think of the famines and plague that, at that time, took place in important cities like Antioch and Rome. Cf. Torres, ‘El uso retórico de la violencia’, p. 113. 17 Clemente, ‘Il rossore del vescovo’, pp. 111–122.

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legislation of various emperors. Significantly though, one of these emperors was Arian (Constantius) and the other Catholic (Theodosius). In both cases, the persecutory initiative was carried out by another bishop with a greater reputation: Osius against Gregory, Damasus against Ephesius. The main difference was that Judge Clementinus was pagan and Judge Bassus was Christian, although both opted for an acquittal. The first, Clementinus, because he felt that he lacked the authority to depose a bishop who was, apparently, helped by the divinity. The second, Bassus, because he was a Christian and fully aware that the Theodosian legislation was biased against heretics, but not against Catholics as, in his opinion, was Ephesius and, of course, Lucifer.18 Bassus’s decision to rule in favour of the doctrinal rectitude of Ephesius is more significant if one takes into account the fact that Damasus, apart from officially embodying the Catholic orthodoxy – in accordance with the Cunctos populos (CTh 16, 1, 2, of 28 February 380) – also had the power to judge the clergy in matters of faith. This was specifically within their municipal jurisdiction, as stipulated by the legislation of Valentinian I and Gratian (CTh 16, 2, 23). Conflicts like these highlighted, once again, the urgent need for the Church to institutionalise a central authority, one recognised by all Christians and also by emperors. Since this was not the case, confrontations and uncertainties would become inevitable and increasingly frequent.19 C) After the death of Constantius in November 361, the most urgent task for the Catholic Church was to restore internal peace among the episcopate, who had adhered to Arianism sponsored by the ‘heretical emperor’ in large numbers. The opportunity for this was presented as soon as Julian came to power (361–363) – giving amnesty to Catholic exiles (LP 51) – and then Jovian (363–364) – who would protect them during his brief reign. This caused many Arians and transgressors to return to the Nicene faith. Although the 18 The LP (86–91) takes advantage of the acquittal of Bassus to reaffirm the Christian orthodoxy of Lucifer and his followers, defenders of the true faith, but now slandered with the nickname of ‘Luciferians’ in order to be considered heretics and to justify their persecution. The figure of Lucifer has been the subject of numerous modern studies. Among the most recent, it is worth bearing in mind those of Simonetti, ‘Lucifero di Cagliari’, pp. 279–299, and Corti, Lucifero di Cagliari; cf. also Alba, ‘El cisma luciferiano’, pp. 177–191. 19 Problems of this kind are documented everywhere in the second half of the fourth century. It is sufficient to recall that Emperor Valens, despite his Arian faith, opposed to that of the Catholic Basilius of Caesarea, allowed him to exercise jurisdiction over various churches independently, that is, without the supervision of the provincial governor. As Van Dam, ‘Emperor, Bishops and Friends’, pp. 57–60 has already observed, these religious decisions are only understood by the uneasy balance – axis of the Roman Empire – between the central administration and the local authorities, among which the one of the bishop already stands out.

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LP (52), representative of a Luciferian minority, censured the opportunism of these bishops, the Catholic majority correctly understood that they could only recover unity and religious initiative through conciliatory proposals around the Nicene Creed. These proposals were endorsed by prominent bishops such as Athanasius of Alexandria, Eusebius of Vercelli or Hilary of Poitiers, as well as by various councils (Alexandria and Paris), and by some ‘confessors’ (Catholics who had been tortured for defending their faith). This is the key moment in the Arian conflict, because it was at this time when the triumph of Nicene Catholicism was decided, although it was at the high cost of integrating a multitude of undesirable relapsers into the Church. This was recognised and accepted by Pope Siricius in a letter addressed to Bishop Himerius of Tarragona on 11 February 385 (just a few months following the LP). In this letter, Siricius recalls that, although the Synod of Rimini had been annulled, the sacraments and orders of those who accepted it were not invalidated. He added that all bishops who participated in that synod and complied with their Arian agreements, even those who refused to retract, should be venia ex poenitentia reconciled, without needing to be baptised again.20 Thus, although irrefutable historical and religious arguments assisted them, the rigorist minority – in particular the Luciferians – were unable to do anything to challenge these proposals for the sake of peace and unity. Accordingly, they were left with a three-fold resource: a) to discredit ‘confessors’ as infidels to the Gospel (LP 54), and also discredit their ideals relating to peace and unity as ungodly proposals (LP 55–59); b) to appeal to the divine judgement, citing the case of Zosimus of Naples, a bishop who was denied his communion by Lucifer himself, and who was forced to leave the episcopate due to a divine punishment, as proven by the fact that he remained alive after his resignation (LP 61–65); and c) to plead that, in the worst case, they would not be forced to share communion with these old praevaricatores, without being considered heretics or suffering persecution (LP 56, 121). Under the reign of Theodosius, this persecution was precisely what the writers of the LP had suffered, and one which is described with great pathos. In fact, they barely mention the important events that had occurred in the pars orientis when it was ruled by the heretic emperor Valens (364–378). Rather, they excuse him by stating (LP 66) that he supported the Arians 20 The letter from Siricius to Himerius can be seen in Patrologia Latina 13, cols. 1132–1147. For its historical evaluation cf. Sardella, ‘Il papato e la Spagna’, pp. 235–54, and Vilella, ‘La epístola I de Siricio’, pp. 337–369. The latter emphasises (p. 339) the enormous influence of this letter on the configuration of Western ecclesiastical law.

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‘with some justice’, because their constancy was notoriously superior to that of the voluble Catholics. As a result, the heresy was strengthened under his reign. Furthermore, and once again, there were scandalous cases of Catholic bishops who selfishly defected to the ranks of Arianism.21 What the LP tries to highlight is, first of all, the clerical situation at that time, when a majority of Catholic bishops and opportunist relapsers – driven by the desire for riches and honours – constantly harassed the incorruptible minority who were faithful to the Nicene Creed. Theodosius, a man who was thought to be unaware of this situation (LP 68), had to decide who to favour. In this respect – the LP insists – he should take into account the divine punishments that had fallen on the wicked, including some biblical kings, and the support received by pious kings and personalities (LP 68–70, 111–112). The authors of the LP did not want the emperor to take cruel measures against false Catholics (LP 71), but they did want him to put an end to the persecutions. These included the destruction of churches, physical abuse, imprisonment, exile, and murder. They cite, as most representative examples, a) the persecution of Bishop Paulinus of Trier, who died in exile; b) that one against the elderly presbyter Bonosus, imprisoned without proof (LP 77); c) the aforementioned persecutions of Damasus on various Roman clerics and d) the brutal events that took place in Hispania (LP 73–76), which we will comment on next. The LP specifically describes the persecution of the presbyter Vincentius, who, being in communion with Gregory of Elvira, was first accused before the governor of the Baetica (consularis prouinciae Baeticae). Then, under the pretext that government intervention had already been requested, a crowd from various places, angry and thirsty to kill, burst into Vincentius’ church, beating those gathered there. As a result, many of them died. Subsequently, several ‘egregious bishops’ (in particular, Luciosus and Hyginus),22 focused their attention on Vincentius’ most famous followers (principalibus) in order 21 The ecclesiastical historians of the fifth century were not so lenient in judging this emperor, whose hostility against the Nicene faithful was often highlighted. For example, when 80 Catholic clerics, who felt harassed by the Arians, went to Nicomedia to give Valens a text similar to the LP, he flew into a rage and ordered his prefect to execute all of them (Socrates, HE 4, 16; Sozomenos 6, 14). This hatred did not stop Valens from putting the interests of the Empire first and serving them, even with the help of Catholic bishops, like Basil (cf. Hanson, The Search for the Christian Doctrine, pp. 679 and passim and Van Dam, ‘Emperor, Bishops and Friends’, pp. 57 and passim). 22 Hyginus is a good example of the subtle line that separates the inquisitor from the martyr. He persecuted the most faithful Nicenists and also the Priscillianists with blatant cruelty, but then joined this sect and was, therefore, condemned into exile in 385. Luciosus could also have been a prominent anti-Priscillianist, if we can identify him with Lucius, the cleric who read the sententiae approved in the Council of Caesaraugusta in 379/380. Cf. Canellis, Faustin (et

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to terrorise the people, demanding the imprisonment of decurions.23 One of them, a principal of the village, died in prison of hunger and cold (LP 74). Vincentius’s followers then built a small church in another place, outside the town,24 so that they could conduct their meetings there. However, the aforementioned bishops filed a second complaint and, under their protection, gathered a large crowd of decurions and commoners from various towns. Together with presbyters, they broke down the church doors, looted the sacred objects and committed the sacrilege of stealing the altar and placing it in a pagan temple. There is no better proof than this, concludes the LP, of the perfidy that hides behind the proclamations of false Catholics when they speak in favour of peace and unity (LP 76). Although the authors of the LP were more familiar with the situation in the West than that of the East, they are keen to record that the injustices suffered by the Nicene faithful occurred throughout the Empire. In the pars orientis, there were also a large number of transgressing and relapsed bishops who persecuted true Catholics, not only with the mediation of authorities and military forces, but also with the help of the clerics themselves, using the ignorance or silence of the governors (LP 92). For example, they cite (LP 93–101) the horrendous crime committed in Oxyrhynchus, where the authentic faithful, led by Bishop Heraclidas, refused to mix with the heretics and prevaricators led by Theodorus, a former Catholic bishop who was again ordained by the Arian George of Alexandria. Using public powers (publicas potestates) and spearmen, Theodorus expelled the faithful Heraclidas from the city several times. As these public forces questioned the justice of their actions, however, the pursuing bishop appealed to his own clerics (turbam clericorum), asking them to destroy the church of Heraclidas (LP 96). Even worse, Theodorus acted by appealing to the edicts and the authority of Theodosius (LP 87 and 100), even going so far as to desecrate the monasteries Marcellin) Supplique aux empereurs, p. 179, n. 4, and Chadwick, Prisciliano de Ávila, pp. 26 and 33. 23 The decurions or curials played a prominent role in the urban and ecclesiastical life of this time. A large part of the clergy came from this social sector although, as the fourth century progressed and episcopal powers increased, the presence of aristocrats in their ranks became more frequent. Cf. regarding this, Jones, The Later Roman Empire, pp. 923–924; Gilliard, ‘Senatorial Bishops’, pp. 135–175; Heinzelmann, ‘Prosopographie et recherche’, pp. 227–239; and Prieto, Los obispos hispanos, pp. 55 and passim. 24 Celebrating the liturgy in private houses or safe places in the countryside, as if they were churches, was a frequent practice among the minority Christian groups at that time, heretics or Catholics, as illustrated by Gregory of Nazianzus (Vita, 1079). However, the First Council of Caesaraugusta (379 or 380) condemned this Priscillianist practice in its canons 2 and 4. On the other hand, several decrees from Theodosius in 383 and 384 (CTh 16, 5, 11–13) again forbade it to numerous heretical groups. Cf. Maier, ‘Religious Dissent’, pp. 49–63.

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of consecrated virgins (LP 99). In fact, Theodorus carried out his persecution in collusion with Apollonius, the Meletian bishop of the city, whose sect had been condemned.25 This is why he had to give his church to the Catholics and why his clerics were reordained by Theodorus (LP 101). The Constitutio Sirmondiana 3, issued by the emperors Valentinian, Theodosius, and Arcadius (4 February 384) and addressed to Optatus, Augustal Prefect (the name then given to the prefect of Egypt), stipulated that no Orthodox clergy should be persecuted and tortured by bishops who proclaimed themselves Catholics, thereby violating divine and human laws (leges non minus diuinas quam humanas). As stated, the aforementioned emperors (in reality, Theodosius) had heard of these persecutions, thanks to the written pleas presented in the imperial consistory. To put a stop to such misdeeds, they issued an order by which no cleric could be brought before civil, ordinary or extraordinary courts, but rather that their disagreements be resolved by the clerical authorities. The authors of the LP appear to ignore this law, probably because it was promulgated before, or very shortly after, the official presentation of the LP. However, we can also question whether it does not precisely constitute a response to this and other similar libelli, although we know that a similar law had been already sanctioned by Valens, Gratian, and Valentinian (CTh 16, 23) on 17 May 376.

Historical assessment Modern historians are aware that the events described above are explained – at least to a large extent – by the ecclesiastical and political transformations that defined the new society of the Late Empire. In this respect, the transformation caused by the acceptance of the emperor as the highest authority of the Church, in both doctrinal and disciplinary fields, has been highlighted on one hand, and the assumptions of earthly powers by the episcopate, which often acted at the service of the emperors, on the other. The rigorist Luciferians, who authored the LP, only vaguely perceived these innovations. Sometimes they repudiated them (to berate their enemies) and sometimes they accepted them with complacency (when they were in favour of their cause). But what they reported and denounced with more 25 The LP could allude to the law included in CTh 16, 1, 3, from 381. On the other hand, everything seems to indicate, that in the East, effectively, there were plenty of unexemplary relapsers: according to Gregory of Nazianzus (Vita, 710), Arians (in Constantinople) boasted about changing the colour of their words (faith) ‘as if we were chameleons or ferns’.

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vehemence was the bankruptcy of the discipline and traditional piety that infected a large part of the Church of their time. This was also the main cause of their religious marginalisation and the harassment they suffered at the hands of numerous ecclesiastical authorities. It also explains some of their complaints, which we aim to summarise next. A) Firstly, for them, the trivialisation of the doctrinal debate was especially regrettable. This was, however, something that would have been of comfort to Constantine, who wanted to see the theologians discuss issues in the manner of philosophers, that is, without discrepancies leading to personal confrontation, especially when it came to subjects beyond understanding.26 To the despair of the Nicene traditionalists (LP 116), this relaxation of the nature of the debates made it possible for Catholics and heretics to discuss, or write, against each other following the style of the rhetoricians. It was as if it was a ‘contest of ingenuity’, and, consequently, the doctrinal differences did not prevent them from maintaining their religious communion. This is what explains – the LP regrets – everyone indulging in rivalry but, at the same time, jointly celebrated the sacraments, concealing their impiety under the pretext of pursuing peace and Christian unity. All this was inadmissible because it was based on lies and impiety. This, according to them, was proved by the Bible and by the fact that these egregious lovers of peace did not stop waging war on those priests who were faithful (LP 117–119). This rigorist mentality clarif ies their lack of understanding of the consensus policies carried out in the religious sphere by various emperors (especially Constantine, but occasionally Constantius and Valens). It also explains their condemnation of those Catholic clerics who were in favour of reconciliation (among them, Hilary of Poitiers), or those who simply share communion with Arians (like Florentius of Merida). In fact, the background to this intransigent attitude was their deficient theological formation. This was very common among the Latin clericature, although only a few were aware of it.27 This is confirmed by their total ignorance of the profound evolution of subordinationist thought throughout the fourth century, to the point where supporters of this theology were simply disqualified and 26 Constantine advised Arius and Alexander of Alexandria by letter (in Eusebius, Vita Constantini, II, 65–69), at the beginning of the conflict, in October 324. Years later, in his letter to the bishops gathered at the Council of Tire, Constantine lamented that ‘even the barbarians, through me, the true servant of God, know God and have learned to venerate Him […] [while the bishops] do nothing but foster discord and hatred, and everything that contributes to the destruction of the human race’ (in Athanasius, Apologia secunda uel ad arianos, 86). 27 The poverty, if not absence, of doctrinal debate is also witnessed in the Priscilianist conflict, as observed by Escribano Paño, ‘Heresy and Orthodoxy’, pp. 125–126.

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seen – as ‘worms’ – born from the rotten corpse of Arius (LP 12). It seemed as if nothing had changed since the times of this heresiarch. The most direct – but brief and in passing – reference to this doctrinal problem appears in LP 114. Here, the Eastern situation is tendentiously simplified, since it is affirmed that the majority were praevaricatores bishops and hypocritical Catholic supporters of diverse heresies (some were Origenist, others were Anthropomorphites, Apollinarists, and Macedonians). This was proved by their coincidental agreeing and sharing of the defence that Father, Son and Holy Spirit have three different substances. In other words, the authors of the LP had not yet realised that the Greek term hipostasis could be translated into Latin as substantia or persona. Consequently, from the traditional Western and Nicene perspective, affirming that there were three hipostaseis could be an Arianising heresy (three substances in the Trinity) or an orthodox affirmation (three persons). This confusion had been clarified for years among the leading theologians, but here we see that it still persisted among many Westerners.28 On the other hand, it seems obvious that, without the trivialisation of the doctrinal debates, which are lamented in the LP, without dominant theological poverty and, finally, without the moral relaxation of the clericature, the authoritarianism that typified the Theodosian Empire would not have been enough to impose the Nicene Creed. Moreover, it would have been less able to do so by simply promulgating laws. It is therefore not surprising that the Lex augusta, which gives an official response to the LP, reiterates that the Nicene Creed is a Lex diuina – and therefore unalterable – and that anyone who opposes it should be considered a heretic (LA 1–3). After all, this was what Theodosius had prescribed in important constitutions such as the aforementioned Cunctos populos or Episcopis tradi (CTh 16, 1, 3, from 30 July 381, days after the end of the Council of Constantinople). Here, orthodoxy is not only defined in theological terms, but also as being in communion with certain bishops (with the pontiff Damasus and Peter of Alexandria in the f irst case, and with eleven Eastern bishops in the second). Thus, it was clear that orthodoxy was not only a theological option of identification with the Nicene Creed but, above all, one of loyalty to the emperor – the highest authority in religious matters – and to the episcopate that followed him.29 28 Cf. Hanson, The Search for the Christian Doctrine of God, pp. 181–190. 29 It is no coincidence that most of the bishops mentioned in the constitution Episcopis tradi were metropolitans. The law thus reinforced the identity of orthodoxy with the principal ecclesiastical and imperial cities. Cf. Baccari, ‘Comunione e cittadinanza’, pp. 264–296; Baccari,

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Undoubtedly, the Theodosian court understood that both Heraclidas of Oxyrhinchus and Gregory of Elvira were bishops who were faithful to the emperor and his Nicene faith, and this is why they were officially considered to be personal references of Catholic orthodoxy in the aforementioned Lex augusta. Obviously, this must have been an extraordinary exaltation of the doctrinal and episcopal authority of Heraclidas throughout much of Egypt and of Gregory in Hispania, especially when both were encumbered as ‘bastions of the sacred law’ (sacrae legis antistites) (LA 8). Additionally, the prefect Cynegius, addressee of this law, was ordered to protect them, along with their followers, from their religious enemies (LA 6–8). What is striking, and contradictory, is that, very shortly before, in February 380, the Cunctos populous law referred to Damasus and Peter as the only bishops who embodied that orthodoxy. However, now, two Luciferians also embodied it, but their supporters were brutally persecuted by the Damasians. Obviously, these were glaring contradictions, although probably not antagonistic or insurmountable, since they did not seriously jeopardise the Theodosian system or the power of the Catholic Church. Even so, these contradictions, which were observed with equal harshness in other imperial decisions,30 lend an element of confusion to this time, and to its attendant religious problems, which must have perplexed many more of their contemporaries. B) Although the fourth century is abound with episodes of violence and persecution between bishops and various ecclesiastical factions,31 it is difficult not to be surprised by the aggressiveness and savagery that is so often denounced in the LP. Perhaps this was not quite so scandalous to those who lived at that time because brute force was something so commonplace then that, even in the ordinary judicial procedures and the episcopalis audientia, torture was considered the most reliable resource of extracting information –so criminals would normally confess. Even so, the signatories of the LP specifically denounce the implication of public institutions in the Cittadini popoli; Humfress, ‘Citizens and Heretics’, pp. 128–142; Escribano Paño, ‘El Edicto de Tesalónica’, pp. 35–65; Lizzi, ‘La politica religiosa di Teodosio I’, pp. 323–361. 30 To illustrate this, in the same year, 384, the followers of Priscillian were condemned as heretics in the Council of Bordeaux and recognised later as orthodox by Emperor Gratian, who shortly before also saw them as heretics (Sulpicius Severus, Chron, 2. 48, 5–5). These kinds of changes are also documented in the religious policy of Constantine and Valens, as we have already seen, and even more frequently in Constantius’, as noted by Hilary (Liber contra Constantium, PL 10, 25–26). It is illustrative that the last religious law of Theodosius (CTh 16, 5, 23, from 20 June 394) rehabilitated, as orthodox, the Eunomians, whom Theodosius himself had condemned with extreme severity in previous laws. Cf. Escribano Paño, ‘Intolerancia y exilio’, pp. 184–208. 31 Sulpicius Severus (Chon. 2, 51,9) talks about the discordia episcoporum as an endemic evil of the Church of his time. Cf. Torres, ‘El uso retórico de la violencia’, pp. 109–115.

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repression of the Nicenists. This included not only judges, governors, and vicars, but also the military, lancers and police (as detailed above). All, of course, felt protected by the emperors and by the legislation of that time. Something that was particularly painful for the authors of the LP was the direct role played by some bishops in these acts of repression, which sometimes led to the death of a number of clerics and the faithful. In these cases, these bishops used a crowd of commoners – or even members of their own clergy – to act as shock forces, creating terror among dissident Christians. The novelty was no longer the alliance of state apparatuses with the bishops faithful to the emperor, but that they behaved like true patrons of their flock and subordinate clerics. Faustinus and Marcellinus were well aware of the nature of this kind of patrocinium and therefore might even have disqualified Constantius as patronus haereticorum (LP 51 and 87). However, they did not appear to perceive their widespread diffusion within the Church, nor their interested sacralisation by the dominant clerical hierarchy. This was already used to address saints and martyrs, including the Apostles and Christ himself, as patrons whose intercession or suffragium – a term that also appears in the LP with the meaning of intercession – was essential to access God (in the same way as, in the earthy reality, the poor humbly resorted to the patron to gain the protection of the imperial authorities).32 Consequently, the religious conflicts of the time were embodied by the actions of powerful ecclesiastical leaders who, as patrons, were followed and served by numerous clerics and the faithful in a very submissive manner. All were in need of social and economic protection. This was attested to by Jerome, among others, when he bitterly denounced the many bishops who bought the favour of the people and lived in the most complete state of moral unworthiness. These were evils which, according to the complaints of Pope Innocent I and the LP, were also common currency in Hispania.33 In other words, episcopal behaviour and confrontations also had, as a framework, patronage and clientelism. This was not alien to the generalised self-exculpation that the apostate bishops granted themselves after the death of Constantius. Jerome himself (Dial. adv. Lucif. 19) tells us that these lapsi 32 Dill, Roman Society in the Last Century, pp. 245 and passim; Ste Croix, ‘Suffragium: from Vote to Patronage’, pp. 33–48; Rouland, Pouvoir politique, pp. 603 and passim Brown, The cult of the Saints, pp. 55 and passim; Brown, Poverty and Leadership, pp. 45–73; Lepelley, ‘Le patronat épiscopal aux IVe et Ve siècles’, pp. 17–33. Christians who proclaimed themselves orthodox believed, however, that heretics, dissenters and pagans enjoyed the patronage of demons and idols, which shows the roots of these relationships in real life. 33 Jerome, Epp. 69 and 100; Innocent I, Ep. 3,7 (PL 20, 49IA). Cf. Fernández Ubiña, ‘Poder y corrupción en el episcopado hispano’, pp. 161–184.

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bishops could hardly have been demoted or deposed, as it was stipulated by the ecclesiastical discipline. This is because many of them would have refused to relinquish their positions due to the fact that they had the support of many people who were determined to stone and kill those who tried to depose them. In short, it was from within this system that the involvement of imperial institutions in ecclesiastical matters can be understood. The same can be said of the emperor as the supreme authority of the Church, in addition to the confusion that those powers created in everyday life. All this was the sign of the changing times, something that the signatories of the LP, who were attached to the traditional piety of the early Church, did not really understand. C) However, they did clearly see that the genealogy of the evils of the Church was rooted in the distant reign of Constantine, when the apostolic legacy of Christianity was stripped away and the simplicity and discipline of the first Christian communities abandoned. They also clearly perceived that, at that time, the real point of rupture between the rigorist minority and the stultified majority of the episcopate was not only in the acceptance or rejection of a particular creed, but mainly in the power and material interests of the episcopal status, no matter whether its principals were Arians or Catholics.34 The result of all this could be no other than a relaxation of faith and worldliness in behaviours as described by the LP with reliable precision. Because of this, although its reconstruction of the past suffers from an idealisation and extreme bias, its denunciation illuminates, even today, some of the darkest aspects of the Christiana tempora; aspects that, in some cases, would only continue and worsen in the following centuries.

Works cited Alba, Almudena, ‘El cisma luciferiano’, in Minorías y sectas en el mundo romano, ed. by Gonzalo Bravo and Raúl González Salinero (Madrid: Signifer, 2006), pp. 177–191. Baccari, Maria Pia, ‘Comunione e cittadinanza. A proposito della posizione giuridica di eretici, apostati, giudei e pagani secondo i codici di Teodosio II e Giustiniano I’, Studia et Documenta Historiae et Iuris 57 (1991), 264–296. Baccari, Maria Pia, Cittadini popoli e comunione nella legislazione dei secoli IV–VI (Torino: Giappichelli 2011). 34 Hence, as Simonetti (La crisi ariana del IV secolo, pp. 554–559) already saw, the difficulty and limits of a sociological interpretation of the Arian controversy.

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Brown, Peter, The Cult of the Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Christianity (London: SCM Press LTD, 1981). Brown, Peter, Poverty and Leadership in the Later Roman Empire (London: University Press of New England, 2002). Canellis, Aline, ‘Arius et les “ariens” dans le Libellus precum de Faustin et Marcellin’, Studia Patristica 36 (2001), 489–501. Canellis, Aline, Faustin (et Marcellin) Supplique aux empereurs (Libellus precum et Lex augusta) (Paris: Sources chrétiens 504, 2006). Chadwick, Henry, Prisciliano de Ávila (Madrid: Espasa Calpe, 1978). Clemente, Guido, ‘Il rossore del vescovo’, in Scritti di Storia per Mario Pani, ed. by Marcella Chelotti, Franca Ferrandini Troisi, Domenica Paola Orsi, Marina Silvestrini, Silvana Cagnazzi, Elisabetta Todisco, Andrea Favuzzi (Bari: Edipuglia, 2011), pp. 111–122. Corti, Giuseppe, Lucifero di Cagliari. Una voce nel conflitto tras chiesa e impero alla metà del IV secolo (Milano: Vita e Pensiero, 2004). Dill, Samuel, Roman Society in the Last Century of the Western Empire (London: MacMillan and Co. LTD, 1905). Escribano Paño, María Victoria, ‘El Edicto de Tesalónica (CTh. XVI,1,2.380) y Teodosio. Norma antiarriana y declaración programática’, Cassiodorus, Rivista di studi sulla Tarda Antichità 5 (1999), 35–65. Escribano Paño, María Victoria, ‘Heresy and Orthodoxy in Fourth-Century Hispania: Arianism and Priscillianism’, in Hispania in Late Antiquity, ed. by Kim Bowes and Michael Kulikowski (Leiden–Boston, MA: Brill, 2005), pp. 121–149. Escribano Paño, María Victoria, ‘Intolerancia y exilio, las leyes teodosianas contra los eunomianos’, Klio 89 (2007), 184–208. Escribano Paño, María Victoria, ‘La prevaricación episcopal en el Libellus precum de Faustino y Marcelino (384)’, in La corrupción en el mundo romano, ed. by Gonzalo Bravo and Raúl González Salinero (Madrid: Signifer, 2008a), pp. 303–326. Escribano Paño, María Victoria, ‘Teodosio y los heréticos: la aplicación de las leyes en el Libellus Precum (384)’, AntTard 16 (2008b), 125–140. Fernández Ubiña, José, ‘El Libellus precum y los conflictos religiosos en la Hispania de Teodosio’, Florentia Iliberritana 8 (1997), 103–123. Fernández Ubiña, José, ‘Poder y corrupción en el episcopado hispano del siglo IV’, Studia Historica. Historia Antigua 24 (2006), 161–184. Fernández Ubiña, José, ‘Los clérigos marginados en el concilio de Elvira y el Libellus precum’, in Marginados sociales y religiosos en la Hispania tardorromana y visigoda, ed. by Raúl González Salinero (Madrid-Salamanca: Signifer, 2013), pp. 21–49. García Moreno, Luis Agustín, ‘Élites e Iglesia hispanas en la transición del Imperio romano al Reino Visigodo’, in La conversión de Roma. Cristianismo y paganismo,

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ed. by José María Candau, Fernando Gascó, and Antonio Ramírez de Verger (Madrid: Ediciones clásicas, 1990), pp. 223–258. Gilliard, Frank D., ‘Senatorial Bishops in the Fourth Century’, The Harvard Theological Review 77 (1984), 135–175. Hanson, Richard Patrick Crosland, The Search for the Christian Doctrine of God: The Arian Controversy 318–381 (Edinburgh: T.& T. Clark, 2005). Heinzelmann, Martin, ‘Prosopographie et recherche de continuité historique. L’exemple des Ve-VIIe siècles’, Mélanges de l’École Française de Rome 100,1 (1988), 227–239. Humfress, Caroline, ‘Citizens and Heretics: Late Roman Lawyers on Christian Heresy’, in Heresy and Identity in Late Antiquity, ed. by Eduard Iricinschi and Holger M. Zellentin (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), pp. 128–142. Jones, Arnold Hugh Martin, The Later Roman Empire 284–602: A Social, Economic, and Administrative Survey (Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University, 1986). Kelly, John Norman Davidson, Primitivos credos cristianos, trans. by Severiano Talavero (Salamanca: Ediciones Secretariado Trinitario, 1980). Lepelley, Claude, ‘Le patronat épiscopal aux IVe et Ve siècles. Continuités et ruptures avec le patronat classique’, in L’évêque dans la cité du IVe au Ve siècle. Image et autorité, ed. by Éric Rebillard and Claire Sotinel (Roma: École française de Rome, 1998), pp. 17–33. Lizzi, Rita, ‘La politica religiosa di Teodosio I. Mitti storiografici realtà storica’, Rendiconti della Classe di Scienze Morali, Storiche e Filologiche dell’Academia dei Lincei 9, 7 (1996), 323–361. Maier, Harry O., ‘Religious Dissent, Heresy and Households in Late Antiquity’, Vigiliae Christianae 49 (1995), 49–63. Mansilla, Demetrio, ‘Orígenes de la organización metropolitana en la Iglesia española’, Hispania Sacra 12 (1959), 1–36. Montes Moreira, António, Potamius de Lisbonne et la controverse arienne (Louvain: Bibliotheque de l’Universite, 1969). Montes Moreira, António, ‘Le retour de Potamius de Lisbonne à l’orthodoxie nicéenne’, Didaskalia 5 (1975), 303–354. Prieto Vilas, Manuel, Los obispos hispanos a fines del Imperio romano (ss. IV–VI). El nacimiento de una élite social, PhD thesis, (Madrid: Universidad Complutense de Madris, 1994). Rouland, Norbert, Pouvoir politique et dépendance personnelle dans l’Antiquité romaine (Bruxelles: Latomus, 1979). Sardella, Teresa, ‘Il papato e la Spagna. Diffusione e recezione della lettera di Siricio a Imerio di Tarragona’, in Dinamiche político-ecclesiastiche nel Mediterraneo cristiano tardoantico. Studi per Ramón Teja, ed. by Silvia Acerbi and Giorgio Vespignani (Roma: L’Erma di Bretschneider, 2017), pp. 235–54.

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Simonetti, Manlio, La crisi ariana del IV secolo (Roma: Institutum Patristicum Augustinianum, 1975). Simonetti, Manlio, ‘Eusebio nella controversia ariana’, in Eusebio di Vercelli e il suo, ed. by Enrico dal Covolo (Roma: LAS, 1997), pp. 155–179. Simonetti, Manlio, ‘Lucifero di Cagliari nella controversia ariana’, Vetera Christianorum 35 (1998), 279–299. Sotomayor Muro, Manuel, Historia de la Iglesia en España (Madrid: BAC, 1979). Sotomayor Muro, Manuel, and José Fernández Ubiña (eds.), El concilio de Elvira y su tiempo (Granada: Editorial Universidad de Granada y Ediciones Miguel Sánchez, 2005). Ste Croix, Geoffrey E.M. de, ‘Suffragium: From Vote to Patronage’, British Journal of Sociology V (1954), pp. 33–48. Teja, Ramón, ‘La cristianización de los modelos clásicos. El obispo’, in Modelos ideales y prácticas de vida en la Antigüedad Clásica, ed. by Emma Falque and Fernando Gascó (Sevilla: Universidad de Sevilla, 1993), pp. 213–230. Torres, Juana, ‘El uso retórico de la violencia en el Libellus precum y en la Altercatio Luciferiani et Orthodoxi’, Revista de Estudios Latinos 16 (2016), 101–117. Van Dam, Raymond, ‘Emperor, Bishops and Friends in Late Antique Cappadocia’, JThS 37 (1986), 53–76. Vilella, Josep, ‘Las iglesias y las cristiandades hispanas; panorama prosopográfico’ in La Hispania del siglo IV. Administración, economía, sociedad, cristianización, ed. by Ramón Teja (Bari: Edipuglia, 2002), pp. 117–158. Vilella, Josep, ‘La epístola I de Siricio: estudio prosopográfico de Himerio de Tarra­ gona’, Augustinianum 44,2 (2004), 337–369. Washburn, Daniel A., ‘Tormenting the Tormentors: A Reinterpretation of Eusebius of Vercelli’s Letter from Scythopolis’, Church History 78, 5 (2009), 731–755.

About the author José Fernández Ubiña was Professor of Ancient History at the University of Granada. He specialises in Historiography, Late Antiquity, and Early Christianity. He is author of Cristianos y militares. La Iglesia antigua ante el ejército y la guerra and editor of Historia del Cristianismo I. El Mundo Antiguo.

12. Orthodoxy and Heterodoxy: The Historiography of Hispania in Late Antiquity Chantal Gabrielli

Abstract One of the characteristics of Christian historiography in Late Roman Hispania was the triumph of Christianity over every form of pagan tradition. The construction of a solid ideology aiming at establishing a clear demarcation between orthodoxy and heterodoxy was the necessary condition to check and neutralise expressions of religious dissent. This phenomenon becomes particularly evident not only when one examines norms and decrees issued by the ecclesiastical hierarchy, but also when considering a series of imperial constitutions directed against heretics and pagans. This contribution emphasises the importance of some aspects of Christian historiography in Late Roman Hispania, paying special attention to the increased number of ecclesiastical documentary sources which modern scholarship has analysed over the past few decades. Keywords: Orthodoxy, Historiography, Late Roman Hispania, Heresy

As historians have rightly suggested, the religious freedom granted by the Edict of Milan in 313 allowed for a fundamental change in status for Christianity.1 Inasmuch as the Church was no longer regarded an illegal ‘sect’, Christianity became free to expand its influence within the Empire, gradually supplanting paganism and becoming the customary religion. Towards the end of the fourth century – during the reign of Theodosius – the 1 Veyne, Quando l’Europa è diventata cristiana, pp. 13, 194–195.

Ubric Rabaneda, P. (ed.), Writing History in Late Antique Iberia: Historiography in Theory and Practice from the Fourth to the Seventh Century. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2022 doi 10.5117/9789463729413_ch12

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Edict of Thessalonica in 3802 and the Council of Constantinople in 382 imposed Nicene Christianity as the ‘state religion’. These events led to a major change in perspective. After this time, the spiritual superiority of Christianity over paganism and the suppression of pagan traditions are key elements in our understanding of Christian historiography. Drawing clear lines of demarcation between orthodoxy and heterodoxy almost immediately became a necessary condition to neutralise both manifestations of religious dissidence and expressions of diversity. This paper will examine two fundamental parameters that were commonly regarded as indicators of orthodoxy: coherence of behaviour and knowledge of doctrine. These concepts only emerged gradually though, and were adapted to the historical circumstances from time to time. Norms and decrees issued by the ecclesiastical hierarchy and constitutions promulgated by emperors are important sources from which to detect and analyse provisions directed against heretics and pagans.3 The examination of the situation in Hispania, most notably during the last decades of the fourth century, provides an interesting picture of both this cultural transition and the conflicts it caused. Key figures of the rich Hispanic aristocracy such as Melania Senior, Melania Iunior, Therasia, Maternus Cynegius, Pacian, and Nummius Aemilianus Dexter adhered, in fact, to Christianity. 4 Furthermore, the tragic aspects of the ideological battle characterising this period are well illustrated in the case of the Hispanic bishop Priscillianus, who was charged with heresy and put to death by the imperial court in Trier in 385.5

Orthodoxy and heterodoxy: A definition The first objective of this contribution is to emphasise the importance of a series of historiographical concepts regarding Hispania in Late Antiquity. Particular attention must be paid to the concept of orthodoxy, which must be taken into account when dealing with both conflicts between pagans and Christians and heresies originating from doctrinal discords within Christianity. I have left the traditional opposition between orthodoxy and 2 CTh 16.1.2. 3 On religious dissent in Hispania, cf. in particular CTh 16.5.40; 16.5.43; 16.5.48; 16.5.59; 16.5.65. 4 Modern scholarship has paid special attention to the conversion of the rich female elite of Hispania to Christianity. On this topic cf. Gabrielli, ‘L’aristocrazia femminile spagnola’, pp. 431–444; idem, ‘Cristianesimo e potere nell’antichità’, pp. 205–219 and references there. 5 On the problematic story of Priscillianus, cf. Gabrielli, ‘Legislazione conciliare’, pp. 319–337; idem, ‘La sovranità del diritto’, pp. 105–115.

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heterodoxy aside, for this generally only refers to the conflict between Christianity and paganism, which sounds reductive in the context examined here. I have chosen, instead, to interpret ‘heterodoxy’ as a concept that can broadly include not only all the forms of opposition to Christianity (polytheism, reappearances of pagan ideals, or the simple persistence of pagan priesthoods), but also schisms reflecting situations of either partial or strong disagreement with the official Christian doctrine. The concept of ‘heterodoxy’ summarises, on one hand, everything that is originally and objectively different from Christianity and, on the other, phenomena that originated within Christianity but later became something different from it. In sum, heresies consist of secessions of members of the ecclesiastical body who persistently disagreed with several of its cohesive values. It follows that heretical movements caused major ruptures within the Church, destabilising the unity of Christians by refusing to share the ‘truth’. The difficult task of dispelling any form of doctrinal dissent and establishing a series of precepts with the purpose of fighting mendacious doctrines mainly rested with the fathers of the Church. Their sway over the process of institutionalising and consolidating the influence of the Church and, as we will see more in detail, of the Hispanic Church, is consequently fundamental.

Orthodoxy and behavioural coherence I will primarily analyse a series of norms and precepts that, in Iberian Christianity, were usually connected to behavioural ethics aimed at protecting devotees against mendacious heterodoxies and heresies. The recent publication of new ecclesiastical documentation makes my task easier,6 although it is important to note that many specific aspects characterised the religiosity of the inhabitants of Hispania. The richness and multiple facets of Christianisation in one of the most Romanised provinces can best be explained through the expression iglesias y cristianidades hispanas coined by José Vilella Masana.7 During the fourth century, at any rate, Iberian Christianity was mostly an urban phenomenon, which we must contextualise within the big doctrinal and theological disputes that were typical of the history of the Church. Continuous reprimands encouraging people to pursue a certain moral integrity and behavioural orthodoxy often 6 I am thinking, in particular, about Vidas e Paixões dos Apóstolos, ed. by Vilares. Further references will follow infra. 7 Vilella Masana, ‘Las iglesias y las cristianidades hispanas’, pp. 130–133.

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appear in canonical interdicta and council legislations. Their harsh tone attests to considerable difficulties in propagating Christianism, since pagan beliefs were still particularly strong amongst both the powerful elites and in the Hispanic society in general and especially amongst rural populations. It was therefore necessary to cultivate a rigorous lifestyle and establish new rules to favour the Christianisation of local communities. Canons thus reveal important information concerning the spread of Christianity in Hispanic towns, including its level of cultural penetration in different social classes. The canons of the Council of Elvira in the early fourth century are particularly informative about how Christianisation progressed in situations where pagan customs were still particularly alive and, in some cases, offering strong resistance. The suggested course of action indicates that it was often difficult to draw a clear distinction between paganism and Christianity in fourth-century society, particularly where cultured people were concerned. Canons would consequently try to dissuade new Christians from retaining their previous pagan habits, which were often deeply rooted in their personality. Newly baptised individuals continued to frequent pagan temples, performing sacrifices and attending ceremonies (canon 1). Flamines and other priests of the imperial cult were still carrying out their duties, taking offerings to the temples and organising sacrifices (canons 2 and 3). Moreover, Christians indulged in activities that were regarded as pagan and idolatrous, such as magic, divinations, and spells (canon 6). We know that catechumens, who were already referred to as christiani, had to comply with a moral and public conduct that was in accordance with the principles regulating their religious sect. They had to submit to a period of intense and rigorous preparation, during which they would learn the fundamentals of Christian faith before being baptised and admitted into the community of believers. The catechumenate, which the synodal fathers had created with the purpose of institutionalising Christian rituals, entailed different durations: two years for men (canon 42) and, perhaps, five years for women (canon 11). By the end of the fourth century, however, the catechumenate was already losing importance. In one of his theological works (sermo de baptismo), Pacian, episcopus of Barcino (Barcelona), lamented that catechumens were showing little interest in being baptised.8 Canons also attest to reproaches directed against highranking women who had flaunted luxurious clothes at civic processions and on celebrations, which had evidently taken place in Hispania (canon 57). 8 For the texts of Pacian’s works, cf. PL (Migne, Series Latina) 13, 1051–1094 and, more recently, Pacien de Barcelone. Ècrits, trans. Épitalon and Lestienne with more and updated bibliography.

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Civic magistrates had to abstain from Christian worship whilst holding the duumvirate (canon 56).9 Moreover, Christians who ascended the Capitolium to assist in or perform sacrifices were also to be condemned (canon 59). Pacian even wrote a booklet – now unfortunately lost – called Cervulus or Cervus, whose aim was to remove his fellow Christian citizens from the orgiastic rituals held at the beginning of the New Year.10 Notwithstanding his efforts, he ended up lamenting that his work had had the opposite effect of encouraging more people to participate in these celebrations.11 Pacian’s reprimands about the opulence, the squandering, and the superficiality of the elites were likewise ineffective.12 Civil legislation against paganism only became considerably stricter at the beginning of the fifth century. In 399, a law that Honorius and Arcadius sent to Macrobius – vicarius of the diocesis Hispaniarum – prohibited sacrifices to the gods inside temples.13 However, it was only during the reign of Theodosius II, in 435, that a specific law authorised the destruction of pagan sanctuaries or, alternatively, their purif ication and transformation into chapels or churches.14 All things considered, it took a long time to persuade Hispanic aristocrats to embrace Christianity and stimulate their interest in the privileges offered by the ecclesiastical career.15 Asceticism and, later, monachism are peculiar features of Hispanic religiosity. They represent extreme expressions of radical devotion whose 9 Sotomayor, ‘Romanos, pero cristianos’, pp. 11–17, esp. p. 16. 10 Hier., vir. ill., 106: Pacianus, in Pyrenaei iugis Barcelonae episcopus, castitate eloquentiae et tam vita quam sermone clarus, scripsit varia opuscula, de quibus est ‘Cervus’, et ‘contra Novatianos’, et sub Theodosio iam ultima senectute mortuus est. 11 Pacian., paenit., I.2–3: Unum illud vereor, dilectissimi, ne sollicitae contrarietatis adversis inculcando quae fiunt, admoneam magis peccata quam reprimam, meliusque fuerit, Attici Solonis exemplo, tacere de magnis sceleribus quam cavere, eousque progressis nostratium moribus, ut admonitos se existimentcum vetantur. Hoc enimputo proxime Cervulus ille profecit,ut eo diligentius fieret, quo inpressius notabatur. Et tota illa reprehensio dedecoris expressi ac saepe repetiti non compressisse videatur, sed erudisse luxuriam. Me miserum! Quid ego facinoris admisi? Puto nescierant cervulum facere, nisi illis reprehendendo monstrassem. 12 Pacian., paenit., 10.5: Non dico illa quae congregamus ad cumulum cauponando, mercando, rapiendo, foris lucra, intus libidines aucupando, nihil agendo simpliciter, nihil pauperibus largiendo, nihil fratris remittendo; 12.1: Mementote, fratres, quia apud inferos exomologesis non est, nec paenitentia tunc tribui poterit, consumpto tempore paenitendi. Festinate dum in vita estis, dum cum adversario iter facitis. Saeculares ecce ignes timemus et carnificum ungulas expavescimus; comparate cum his aeternas torquentium manus apicesque flammarum nulla aetate morientium. 13 CTh 16.10.15. Cf. Buenacasa, ‘La figura del obispo’, pp. 135–138. 14 CTh 16.10.25. 15 Cf. the discussion in Salamito, ‘La chistianisation et les nouvelles règles’, pp. 678–680; Arce, El último siglo, pp. 137–149.

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orthodoxy the Church tried to confront and regulate in various ways.16 As noted above, famous conversions of members of the elites took place in Hispania during the final decades of the fourth century, the best documented cases being those of clarissimae feminae.17 Several decisions made by these women might be considered revolutionary when put in the context of the traditional lifestyle of the senatorial class to which they belonged. As continence and poverty were regarded as unavoidable conditions to turn one’s life around, they sold their properties and gave the proceeds to the poor or established monasteries, totally devoting themselves to Christian asceticism.18 The harsh criticisms directed against these women indicate that orthodoxy could be interpreted in different ways, but in their specific case it clashed with social norms that were specific to the senatorial class and considered instrumental in guaranteeing the preservation of this social class.19 Family estates, so it was believed, were to be managed with great care to avoid their dispersion and fragmentation. Giving them away and spending the proceeds on charitable deeds was evidently perceived as a destabilising act of eversion.20 There were even laws prohibiting the handing over of senatorial properties outside this social group. The estates owned by individuals of senatorial rank were carefully registered in public records so as to guarantee a sort of ‘unmovable status’ to their riches.21 Provisions like these inform us that the radical changes of lifestyle imposed by Christian faith came up against strong resistance, particularly amongst the wealthy. Thus, the diffusion of Christianity passed through a period of contrasts with social norms that were deeply rooted in Roman mentality.22 Although the poet Ausonius had converted to Christianity, he strongly disapproved of the dispersal of his friend Paulinus’s properties, which had fallen into 16 Fontaine, ‘El ascetismo, ¿manzana de discordia?’, pp. 201–206; Marcos, ‘Los origines del monacato en la Peninsula Ibérica’, pp. 372–373. At the beginning of the f ifth century, both monachism and ascesis were regarded as potentially dangerous, mostly because of the negative influence of Priscillanism, which I will examine later on. It is important to note, however, that any kind of Christian devotion whose orthodoxy was not regulated by episcopal authorities would be a cause of suspicion. Cf. Díaz Martínez, ‘Monacato y ascesis en Hispania’, pp. 377–384. 17 Cf. Gabrielli, ‘L’aristocrazia femminile spagnola’, pp. 431–444. 18 Brown, The Body and Society, pp. 403–427, passim. 19 Ambr.,Ep. 58.3: ex illa familia, illa prosapia, illa indole, tanta praeditum eloquentia migrasse a senatu, interceptam familiae nobilis successionem …. 20 On the economic implications of these decisions, cf. Giardina, ‘Carità eversiva. Le donazioni di Melania la Giovane’, pp. 127–142. 21 Cf. CTh 6.2.8; Blázquez Martínez, ‘Problemas económicos y sociales en la vida de Melania’, pp. 103–123; Lizzi, ‘Una società esortata all’ascetismo’, pp. 129–153. 22 Fontaine, ‘Valeurs antiques et valeurs chrétiennes’, pp. 571–595; Hidalgo de la Vega, ‘Mujeres, carisma y castidad’, pp. 229–244.

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the hands of a hundred new owners.23 Paulinus’s resolution was indeed a matter of wonder to Ausonius, an excess of religious zeal ruining the quiet and harmonious life spent in the villae rusticae. According to Sulpicius Severus, on the other hand, getting rid of every material possession in order to embrace an ascetic life was an episode of model behaviour in the lives of Paulinus and his wife Therasia.24 In the eyes of Ausonius and, probably, in those of other potentiores like him, there were no issues in harmonising Christianity with a leisured life spent in the otium of the countryside, where one could pursue peace, moderation, and pureness whilst praying and taking care of the needs of both family and servants. The conversion of Paulinus was not, however, as revolutionary and innovative as Ausonius’s disappointment might at first sight suggest. Both Paulinus and his wife did pursue a life of asceticism, but without completely renouncing to the customary modus vivendi of landowners. They opted for a coexistence between ascetic Christian values and ancient habits typical of a life devoted to the rusticatio. In his writings, Paulinus himself details his retirement, which he spent pursuing inner peace (tranquillitas) in his country house not far from Nola, away from the anxieties of public life and the dangers of the forum. As dominus villae, he cultivated both fields and soul with the same dedication, for his life would harmoniously conjugate asceticism, adhesion to the liturgic cult and administration of his properties, thus combining new (Christian) values with old (pagan) habits.25

Orthodoxy and heresy The diffusion of numerous heretic movements during the fourth century was a consequence of the rise of Christianity, and the manifold religiosity of Hispania reflected this phenomenon. Moving towards a more mature recognition of the truth, which is part of the intrinsically dialectical character of 23 Aus. Ep. 27.115–116: ne sparsam raptamque domum lacerataque centum / per dominos veteris Paulini regna fleamus. Cf. Etienne, ‘Ausone et l’Espagne’, pp. 319–332. 24 Sulp. Sev., Vita Martini, 25.4: praestantissimumque nobis praesentium temporum inlustris viri Paulini, cuius supra fecimus mentionem, exemplum ingerebat, qui, summis opibus abiectis Christum secutus, solus paene his temporibus evangelica praecepta complesset. 25 Paul. Nol., Ep., 5.4 : postea denique ut a calumniis et peregrinationibus requiem capere visus sum, nec rebus publicis occupatus et a fori strepitu remotus ruris otium et ecclesiae cultum placita in secretis domesticis tranquillitate celebravi, ut paulatim subducto a saecularibus turbis animo praeceptisque caelestibus accommodato proclivius ad contemptum mundi comitatumque Christi iam quasi de finitima huic proposito via dimicaverim.

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human nature, can sometimes lead to the delineation of new and opposite interpretations. The very meaning of orthodoxy implies a concept that evolves, updates itself, and changes in relation to the surrounding reality. It does not represent a static idea but carries an inherent structural dynamism. Denying the truth of faith often represents the other side of the desire to understand, an attempt to re-read the dogma according to the canons of human thought.26 Manifestations of religious dissent were commonplace and fighting against heresies was part of Christians’ daily life. The conversion to Christianity of Therasia and the two Melanias mentioned above had a counterpart in the agency of Lucilla, a rich Hispanic aristocrat who went to Carthage and spared no money in supporting the party of the bishops of Numidia, thus contributing to the expansion of Donatism.27 The Vita S. Melaniae relates that two ‘bishops’, one Christian and the other heretic, were present at the same time in a vast property that belonged to Melania and her husband Pinianus (et duos episcopos, unum nostrae fidei et alium haereticorum).28 Furthermore, the two Melanias are credited with numerous interventions on doctrinal issues: Melania Senior helped the Orthodox during the persecution ordered by the Arian emperor Valens,29 whereas Melania Iunior converted heretics30 and fought against the Nestorian heresy.31 In order to succeed, however, these anti-heretical actions had to pass through the mediation of the ecclesiastical hierarchy. Whatever the actual influence of these pious aristocrats on the history of the Church was, the impression remains that the space officially afforded to them was quite modest and mostly limited to exceptional episodes. There is evidently a gap between the fame conferred upon these women by the fathers of the Church and the autonomy of intervention that they were actually allowed to possess.32 Bishop Pacian fought against Arianism, though his hardest battle was against Novatianism. In the three letters sent to the Novatian Simpronianus, he criticised the rigorist ecclesiology by contrasting the plurality of heresies with the unity of the Catholic Church, polemicising 26 Bonanni, Eresia, pp. 3533–3534; Grossi, Eresia, eretico, I, coll. 1187–1191. 27 Lucilla: Jones et al., PLRE I p. 517; Mandouze, Prosopographie chrétienne, p. 649. 28 Vita S. Melaniae, 21. Cf. Marcos, ‘Ortodossia ed eresia nel cristianesimo ispano del IV secolo’, pp. 417–435. 29 Paul. Nol., Ep., 29.11: Tempore illo Valentis, quando ecclesiam dei vivi furor Arrianorum rege ipso inpietatis satellite persequebatur, haec erat princeps vel particeps cunctis pro fide stantibus. Haec fugatos recipiebat aut adprehensos comitabatur […]. 30 Vita S. Melaniae, 27. 31 Ibid., 54. 32 Gabrielli, ‘L’aristocrazia femminile spagnola’, p. 444.

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also about the post-baptismal penance denied by the schismatic. The first missive contains the famous phrase christiano mihi nomen est, catholico vero cognomen, as well as a clarification of the word Catholic, catholicus ubique unum, vel ut doctiores putant, oboedentia omnium nuncupatur, mandatorum scilicet Dei.33 The refutation of the episcopus is undoubtedly detailed and articulated in his arguments, highlighting various aspects of the schism. Its main focus is on numerous passages of the New Testament. This is used as irrefutable proof of the fact that humans tend to give in to sin even after baptism, a situation of weakness that the Church must consider. Thus, in contrast to the rigidity of the Novatians, who did not permit sin after baptism, the Church would allow sinners to repent. The aim was not their death, but rather their conversion and readmission into the community of the faithful through repentance. In essence, the use of orthodoxy is the attempt to build and strengthen an identity, and at the same time affirming diversity and uniqueness. This peculiarity often resulted in the affirmation of the undisputed supremacy of the Catholic faith over all other confessions, sometimes justifying intolerance regarding both doctrinal questions discussed by ecclesiastical authorities and political and social matters judged by secular powers.34 The interference of the secular arm in the matter of doctrine is particularly evident in the tragic conclusion of the Priscillianist controversy, which offers further food for thought about orthodoxy. This episode, in fact, clearly illustrates how the ecclesiastical hierarchy applied the concept of orthodoxy to two different subjects. The first is the impeccable integrity of both the founder of the ascetic-rigoristic movement and his followers, whilst the second is the correctness and doctrinal consistency of his ideas imbued with Gnostic-Manichean dualism, which the Church of the West strongly opposed.35 Orthodoxy represents a leitmotif in the events characterising this bloody episode in the history of the Hispanic Church.36 33 Pacian., ep., I.4.1. Cf. Wohleb, ‘Bischof Pacianus von Barcelona’, pp. 25–35. 34 Beatrice, ‘L’intolleranza cristiana’, pp. 7–13. 35 Gibbon, Storia della decadenza e caduta, vol. II tome II, pp. 20–23, 51, who in his well-argued explanation of the repression of the movement emphasises the doctrinal dependence of Priscillianism on Gnosticism and Manichaeism. 36 An event that continues to arouse the interest of modern historians, as demonstrated by the extensive bibliography on this topic. I limit myself here to a mention of the exhaustive work by Escribano Paño, Iglesia y Estado en el certamen priscilianista, and the bibliography in Escribano Paño, ‘Estado actual de los estudios sobre el priscilianismo’, pp. 263–287. Among the most recent works, cf. Olivares Guillém, ‘El corpus documental sobre el priscilianismo y su proceso de incorporación’, pp. 393–422; idem, ‘El corpus documental priscilianista’, pp. 211–234; Sanchez, ‘L’historiographie du priscillianisme’, pp. 195–238.

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There is a preliminary phase in which prelates from Hispanic communities and from Aquitania gathered in the First Council of Zaragoza (A.D. 380) condemning Priscillianism.37 The indictments revolved around some ‘unorthodox’ behaviours, in primis the ascetic practice of fasting, and more specifically the abstinence from meat, a consequence of Manichean influences (canons 2 and 3). Immediately thereafter came gymnopaedia (nudum orare), a charge brought against the heresiarch, who was accused of preaching completely naked in the midst of his congregation (canon 4).38 The presence of women at Priscillianist meetings in private homes and secluded places raised further questions, even at doctrinal and pastoral levels. Some of the canons of the Council of Zaragoza forbade seclusion in secret rooms (cubicula) or in the mountains, as well as visits to the residences (villae) of others to participate in clandestine meetings whilst being absent from important religious public functions during the periods of Advent, Epiphany and Lent (canons 2 and 4).39 Praying with people from outside the family circle was also forbidden (canon 1). This measure aimed at preventing menaces that could originate from listening to a lectio divina held by laic doctores. These may threaten the auctoritas episcopalis with their unorthodox teachings on evangelical truths, making it less obvious that the task of transmitting and interpreting the divine word had to lie with the members of the priestly order. 40 The disciplinary measures documented in the conciliar canons therefore included important aspects such as the struggle against absenteeism in ecclesiastical celebrations. Inasmuch as the liturgical calendar was meant to be an element of cohesion in the Christian community, people who did not participate in the liturgy were viewed as showing contempt for the Church’s rituals and consequently punished. 37 For a commentary on the conciliar canons, cf. Orlandis and Ramos-Lissón, Historia de los Concilios, pp. 23–24, 68–100, 137–150. 38 In the ancient world, nudity was considered capable of increasing the power of magic: Breyfogle, ‘Magic, Women, and Heresy in the Late Empire’, pp. 444–445. On the sources, cf. Chadwick, Priscillian of Avila, pp. 18–19, 140. 39 Can. 2: ne habitent latibula cubiculorum ac montium qui in suspicionibus perseverant, sed exemplum et praeceptum custodiant et ad alienas villas agendorum conventum causa non conveniant; can. 4: […] nulli liceat de ecclesia absentare, nec latere in dominibus, nec sedere in villam, nec montes petere […] Cf. Concilios Visigóticos e Hispano-Romanos, pp. 16–17. On this topic, cf. Burrus, The Making of a Heretic, pp. 33–42. Further considerations on these canons in Gabrielli, ‘La sovranità del diritto’, pp. 113–114. Cf. CTh 16.5.49. Archaeological investigations in Hispania attest to the existence of villae, which included a specific area used as ecclesia, cf. Bowes, ‘[…] Nec Sedere in Villam. Villa-Churches’, pp. 335–338. 40 Canon 7 of the Council of Zaragoza, cf. Concilios Visigóticos e Hispano-Romanos, pp. 17–18.

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New incriminations, such as displaying interest towards apocryphal texts condemned by the Church,41 immoral behaviours,42 and Nicolaism for having corrupted women by persuading them to take part in orgiastic rituals, 43 were soon added to the charges already brought against the heresiarch. On the doctrinal level, it is important to note the accusations of Gnosticism and Manicheism, though the most serious one, which ultimately led to the passing of the death sentence in 385, was the accusation of practising black magic (maleficium).44 Therefore, according to the sources, heresy included all the abominations of magic, debauchery, and impiety.45 Eminent clergymen strongly opposed, in truth, the violent repression of the secta Priscilliani. Christian historiography recognised the existence of an unfair trial and distanced itself from it, though without abandoning its hostility towards Priscillianist teachings. Ambrose and Pope Siricius (384–399) removed the bishops whose accusations had given substance to the counts of imputation from the ecclesiastical community by denying them the Communion. 46 After having opposed the trial of Trier, Martin of Tours disapproved of the intrusion of the civil power into an ecclesiastical cause and tried in vain to persuade the usurper Magnus Maximus to block the execution of the 41 On this topic, see infra. 42 PL 54, 683–684, 689, 691. These accusations were respectively reaffirmed by the canons 11 and 15 of the First Council of Braga (561), cf. Concilios Visigóticos e Hispano-Romanos, pp. 68–69. 43 Sulp. Sev. chron. 2, 48, 2–3: sed iter eis praeter interiorem Aquitanicam fuit, ubi tum ab imperitis magnifice suscepti sparsere perfidiae semina. maximeque Elusanam plebem, sane tum bonam et religioni studentem, pravis praedicationibus pervertere. a Burdigala per Delfinum repulsi, tamen in agro Euchrotiae aliquantisper morati, infecere nonnullos suis erroribus. Inde iter coeptum ingressi, turpi sane pudibundoque comitatu, cum uxoribus atque alienis etiam feminis, in quis erat Euchrotia ac filia eius Procula, de qua fuit in sermone hominum Priscilliani stupro gravidam partum sibi graminibus abegisse. On the accusation of Nicolaism, cf. Ferreiro, ‘Priscilian and Nicolaitism’, pp. 382–392. On the role of women in the sect, cf. Marcos, ‘Ortodossia ed eresia nel cristianesimo ispano del IV secolo’, pp. 417–435; Ramos-Lissón, ‘El tratamiento de la mujer en los cánones’, pp. 607–618; Breyfogle, ‘Magic, Women, and Heresy in the Late Empire’, pp. 435–454. 44 Sulp. Sev. chron. 2, 50, 8: is Priscillianum gemino iudicio auditum convictumque maleficii nec diffitientem obscenis se studuisse doctrinis, nocturnos etiam turpium feminarum egisse conventus nudumque orare solitum, nocentem pronuntiavit redegitque in custodiam, donec ad principem referret. gesta ad palatium delata censuitque imperator, Priscillianum sociosque eius capite damnari oportere. 45 I must thank Maijastina Kahlos, who during the conference provided me with useful suggestions about the accusation of magic, an extremely versatile and complex topic in inter-religious and intra-religious disputes and conflicts. I also benefitted from the reading of Kahlos, ‘Artis heu magicis: The Label of Magic’, pp. 167–168, 171–174. 46 Cf. Pope Siricius’ decretal to the bishop Imerius in PL 13, 1132–1147; Ambr.,Ep 68 (26 Maur.), 3; cfr. Ambr.,Ep 50 (25 Maur.); Ambr.,Ep. 24, 12 (82 Maur.). However, the Council of Elvira (canon 6) had already denied Communion to those who would commit murders by performing maleficia.

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sentence. By quoting the canonical legislation, Martin argued that – rather than inflicting the death penalty upon those whom a sententia episcopalis had judged heretic – it would have been sufficient to expel them from their own Church. 47 Regarding doctrine, it is important to stress the speculative efforts of Orosius, a Gallaecian presbyter in the diocese of Bracara Augusta (today’s Braga). In 414, he travelled to Africa to show Augustine a memorandum about Priscillianism and its dogmas, the Commonitorium de errore Priscillianistarum et Origenistarum. 48 A response from the Bishop of Hippo, Ad Orosium contra Priscillianistas et Origenistas, whose purpose was to outline the erroneous nature of the Priscillianist dogmas, promptly followed. 49 In this context of theological disputes aimed at defending orthodoxy against the demands of heretical movements, Jerome,50 who first sympathised with Priscillianism, but later became one of its most vehement critics, also played a key role.51 In the letter to Ctesiphon of 415, Jerome emphasised the crime of magic as the main feature of the movement. He established an interesting parallel between the heresies of Simon Magus and Priscillian, both of whom had relied on the help of women whilst preaching their erroneous doctrines;52 a theme that also appeared in Vincent of Lérins’ Commonitorium 47 Sulp. Sev. chron. 2, 50, 4–51, 2: ausus etiam miser est ea tempestate Martino episcopo, viro plane Apostolis conferendo, palam obiectare haeresis infamiam. namque tum Martinus apud Treveros constitutus non desinebat increpare Ithacium, ut ab accusatione desisteret, Maximum orare, ut sanguine infelicium abstineret; satis superque sufficere, ut episcopali sententia haeretici iudicati ecclesiis pellerentur; saevum esse et inauditum nefas, ut causam ecclesiae iudex saeculi iudicaret. denique quoad usque Martinus Treveris fuit, dilata cognitio est; et mox discessurus egregia auctoritate a Maximo elicuit sponsionem, nihil cruentum in reos constituendum. sed postea imperator per Magnum et Rufum episcopos depravatus et a mitioribus consiliis deflexus causam praefecto Euodio permisit, viro acri et severo. is Priscillianum gemino iudicio auditum convictumque maleficii nec diffitientem obscenis se studuisse doctrinis, nocturnos etiam turpium feminarum egisse conventus nudumque orare solitum, nocentem pronuntiavit redegitque in custodiam, donec ad principem referret. gesta ad palatium delata censuitque imperator, Priscillianum sociosque eius capite damnari oportere. Ceterum Ithacius videns, quam invidiosum sibi apud episcopos foret, si accusator etiam postremis rerum capitalium iudiciis adstitisset – etenim iterari iudicium necesse erat – subtrahit se cognitioni, frustra callidus iam scelere perfecto. ac tum per Maximum accusator apponitur Patricius quidam, fisci patronus. ita eo insistente Priscillianus capitis damnatus est, unaque cum eo Felicissimus et Armenius, qui nuper a catholicis, cum essent clerici, Priscillianum secuti desciverant. 48 CSEL 18, 149–157. 49 PL 42, 665–678. On Orosius’ agency, cf. Aug. retract. 2, 44 (70); ep. 166, 1, 2; 169, 4, 13. In 415, Augustine wrote epistle 237, and in 420 the Contra mendacium. 50 Olivares Guillém, ‘San Jerónimo ante el priscilianismo’, pp. 755–759. 51 Ferreiro, ‘Jerome’s Polemic’, n. 24 pp. 315–316; Ferreiro, ‘Sexual Depravity, Doctrinal Error, and Character Assassination’, pp. 29–38. 52 Hier. ep. 133, 4.

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written in 434.53 In 1988, Isabel Vilares Cepeda published a large medieval hagiographic work dating to the second half of the thirteenth century (Vidas e Paixões dos Apóstolos).54 Leaving aside the complicated events of textual transmission, I want to point out that King Alfonso X of Castile commissioned a Portuguese translation of a Greek apocrypha from the late third or early fourth century AD, which had been preserved through a Latin version by Rufinus of Aquileia (340–410). In this hagiography, the author of the life of St Peter gave special emphasis to the relationship between the apostle and Simon Magus, a controversial and almost legendary figure in primitive Christianity to whom the historiographical tradition on evil magic paid considerable attention.55 Modern historians have carefully examined the expansive debate between Peter, Simon Magus, and some of their disciples about the relationship between the world of the living and that of the dead.56 According to José Mattoso, it is not a coincidence that this controversy appeared in an apocryphal text, for magic and necromancy are given great prominence.57 Both these topics are closely connected to the Priscillianist heresy, as well as to the rural areas of north-western Hispania where the presence of pagans was still strong. The passage focused on a question that the Church intensively debated between the fourth and sixth centuries, namely, the possibility that the spirits of the dead may contact the living. Simon Magus argued in favour of the effectiveness of magic, explaining that its power would increase when the most restless spirits were to be involved. He also sustained that magicians were the only people who could communicate with the dead and invoked the soul of a murdered young man. It was believed, in fact, that victims of violence had more effective and dangerous powers. For this reason, necromancy was considered to be a socially harmful practice and put on the same level as black magic (maleficium), the charge that ultimately led to the capital punishment inflicted upon Priscillian and some of his followers.58 Beliefs about the powers of magic 53 Vincent. Ler. comm. 24, 10: Quis ante magum Simonem, apostolica districtione percussum (a quo vetus ille turpitudinum gurges usque in novissimum Priscillianum continua et occulta successione manavit) auctorem malorum, id est, scelerum, impietatum, flagitiorumque nostrorum ausus est dicere creatorem Deum? Cf. Ferreiro, ‘Simon Magus and Priscillian in the Commonitorium’, pp. 180–188. 54 Cf. n. 6 above. 55 The Vidas e Paixões dos Apóstolos, I, pp. 159–160 reports a list of the supernatural powers attributed to Simon Magus. A collection of sources can be found in Mattoso, ‘A necromancia na idade média’, pp. 275–277. 56 Vidas e Paixões dos Apóstoles, I, pp. 162–163. 57 Mattoso, ‘A necromancia na idade média’, pp. 263–283. 58 Apuleius (de deo Socr. 15) subdivided the dead in three categories: lares, larvae, and manes, depending on their good, malefic or uncertain natures, respectively. Larvae, or specters (as in

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and necromancy continued to enjoy great popularity, and superstitious practices continued to coexist with the official religious doctrine. The limits imposed by orthodoxy in this field remained unchartered for a long time. Thus, the fact that Priscillianism was identified with the practice of magic explains why Priscillian was often connected to Simon Magus, as if the first were the most representative intellectual heir of the latter. In the writings of Christian authors like Jerome and Vicent of Lérins, the connection between Priscillian and Simon Magus became a historiographical leitmotif with the same repertoire of accusations and criticisms. Pope Leo’s Epistle 15 about the persistence of Priscillianism in Gallaecia, which he sent to Thoribius, Bishop of Asturica Augusta (today’s Astorga), in 447, blamed adherents of Priscillianism for resorting to astrology, identified by Leo with magic. Following in the footsteps of Jerome and Vincent of Lérins, Leo also accused them of using apocryphal writings to support their argumentations,59 thus spreading wrong interpretations of sacred texts and dogmas.60 Pope Leo’s epistle contains numerous references to the strong influence exercised by popes over the cultural and pastoral education of provincial clergy. Both the non-conformism of Priscillianists and the correctness of the conduct of local churches were a matter of concern to them. Regulations affecting liturgy, doctrinal teachings, and moral habits were consequently issued. The concept of orthodoxy included many different things, but several themes became particularly predominant and omnipresent in historiographical accounts. The fathers of the Church intensively debated the systematic use of non-canonical writings, though extremely ‘unorthodox’ texts like the aforementioned Greek apocrypha on necromancy were obviously believed to be very dangerous. Athanasius compiled a list of 27 canonical works, stressing the importance of having a restricted canon of ecclesiastical books and marking a clear distinction between heretical and orthodox texts.61 Yet, how could one criticise Priscillian, who in the Liber de fide et de apocryphis (Tractatus 3) argued that apocrypha were complementary to the reading the episode I mentioned), were considered to be dangerous, as they belonged to people who had died in violent circumstances, and therefore eager to vent their wrath upon the living. 59 Thoribius had already informed two bishops, Hydatius of Aquae Flaviae (today’s Chaves, in Galicia) and Caeponius, about the predilection that Priscillianists had for apocryphal texts (Thoribius, Ep. ad Idacium et Ceponium (PL 54, 693–695)). 60 Leo. ep. 15 (PL 54, 688): Unde si quis episcoporum, vel apocrypha haberi per domos non prohibuerit, vel sub canonicorum nomine eos codices in Ecclesia permiserit legi, qui Priscilliani adulterina sunt emendatione vitiati, haereticum se noverit iudicandum: quondam qui alios ab errore non revocat, seipsum errare demonstrat. Augustine also ferociously criticised the use of apocryphal writings by the followers of Priscillian (Aug. de haer. 70, 2). 61 Epistle 39.

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of sacred canonical texts and beneficial to good Christians who wanted to fully understand the message of the Gospels?62 Such a position was, in my opinion, very reasonable and human, as it derived from that cognitive curiosity and desire for in-depth study that is typical of people who try to dialectically achieve the ultimate truth of things on a doctrinal level, irrespective of how their arguments become increasingly blurred and far from the truth itself.

Conclusions In this contribution, I have tried to show how concepts such as orthodoxy and heterodoxy (that is the negation of orthodoxy or the act of deviating from it) might be used to illustrate the spread of Christianity and its impact in one of the most Romanised provinces. Hagiographical texts and canonical interdicta mirroring the beliefs of local Christianity, historical works, doctrinal, or epistolary treatises have been the most relevant documentation used in this analysis. It is therefore important to consider orthodoxy as a concept with multiple facets, the result of considerable speculative efforts against any form of heterodoxy. In the specific case of fourth-century Hispania, several phases must be stressed: the re-elaboration of values taken from pagan culture, their transformation into Christian behavioural rules, and the final, vigorous defence of doctrinal principles. In the behavioural field, the use of the concept of orthodoxy essentially sought to repress pagan customs. On the doctrinal level, the multifaceted movement established by Priscillian became the main target. Its persistence and diffusion in peripheral areas of Hispania proved to be an element of great concern among the ecclesiastical hierarchies and a subject of continuous historiographical reflection well into the fifth century.

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Blázquez Martínez, José María, ‘Problemas económicos y sociales en la vida de Melania, la joven, y la Historia Lausiaca de Palladio’, MHA, 2 (1978), 103–123. Bonanni, Sergio Paolo, v. Eresia, in Virgilio Melchiorre, Guido Boff i, Eugenio Garin, Adriano Bausola, Enrico Berti, Francesca Castellani, Sergio Cremaschi, et al. (eds.), Enciclopedia Filosofica, 20 vols. (Milano: Bompiani, 2010), V (2010), pp. 3533–3534. Bowes, Kimberly, ‘…Nec Sedere in Villam. Villa-Churches, Rural Piety, and the Priscillianist Controversy’, in Urban Centers and Rural Contexts in Late Antiquity, ed. by Thomas S. Burns and John William Eadie (East Lansing, MI: Michigan State University Press 2001), pp. 323–348. Breyfogle, Todd, ‘Magic, Women, the Heresy in the Late Empire: The Case of the Priscillianists’, in Ancient Magic and ritual Power, RGRW 129, (Boston, MA–Leiden: Brill Academic Publishers 1995), pp. 435–454. Brown, Peter, The Body and Society: Men, Women and Sexual Renunciation in Early Christianity (New York: Columbia University Press, 1990). Buenacasa Peréz, Carlos, ‘La f igura del obispo y la formación del patrimonio de las comunidades cristianas según la legislación imperial del reinado de Teodosio I (379–395)’, in Vescovi e pastori in epoca teodosiana, In occasione del XVI Centenario della consacrazione episcopale di S. Agostino, 396’1996. XXV Incontro di Studiosi dell’Antichità Cristiana, Roma 8–11 maggio 1996 (Roma: Institutum Patristicum Augustinianum, 1997), I, pp. 121–139. Burrus, Virginia, The Making of a Heretic: Gender, Authority, and the Priscillianist Controversy (Berkeley–Los Angeles, CA–London: University of California Press 1995). Chadwick, Henry, Priscillian of Avila: The Occult and the Charismatic in the Early Church (Oxford: Oxford University Press 1976). Concilios Visigóticos e Hispano-Romanos, ed. by José Vives (Barcelona: Consejo superior de investigaciones científicas, Instituto Enrique Flórez, 1963). Díaz Martínez, Pablo, ‘Monacato y ascesis en Hispania en los siglos V–VI’, in Cristianesimo e specificità regionali nel Mediterraneo latino (sec. IV–VI). XXII Incontro di studiosi dell’antichità cristiana, Roma 6–8 maggio 1993 (Roma: Institutum Patristicum Augustinianum, 1994), pp. 377–384. Escribano Paño, Maria Victoria, Iglesia y Estado en el certamen priscilianista. Causa ecclesiae y iudicium publicum (Zaragoza: 1988). Escribano Paño, Maria Victoria, ‘Estado actual de los estudios sobre el priscilia­ nismo’, in El cristianismo. Aspectos históricos de su origen y difusión en Hispania, Actas del Symposium de Vitoria-Gasteiz (25–27 noviembre 1996), ed. by Ramón Teja and Juan Santos Yanguas (Vitoria –Gasteiz: Instituto de Ciencias de la Antigüedad 2000), pp. 263–287.

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Etienne, Robert, ‘Ausone et l’Espagne’, in Mélanges d’archéologie, d’épigraphie et d’histoire offerts à J. Carcopino, ed. by Jacques Heurgon, William Seston, and Gilbert Charles-Picard (Paris: Hachette, 1966), pp. 319–332. Ferreiro, Alberto, ‘Jerome’s Polemic against Priscillian in His Letter to Ctesiphon (133, 4)’, REAug 39 (1993), 309–332. Ferreiro, Alberto, ‘Sexual Depravity, Doctrinal Error, and Character Assassination in the Fourth Century: Jerome against the Priscillianists’, Studia Patristica 28 (1993), 29–38. Ferreiro, Alberto, ‘Simon Magus and Priscillian in the Commonitorium of Vincent of Lérins’, VChr 49 (1995), 180–188. Ferreiro, Alberto, ‘Priscilian and Nicolaitism’, VChr 52 (1998), 382–392. Fontaine, Jacques, ‘Valeurs antiques et valeurs chrétiennes dans la spiritualité des grands propriétaires terriens a la fin du IVe siècle occidental’, in Epektasis. Mélanges patristiques offerts au Cardinal J. Daniélou, ed. by Jacques Fontaine and Charles Kannengiesser (Paris: Beauchesne, 1972), pp. 571–595. Fontaine, Jacques, El ascetismo, ¿manzana de discordia entre latifundistas y obispos en la Tarraconense del siglo IV?, in I Concilio Cesaraugustano. MDC Aniversario (Zaragoza: 1981), pp. 201–206. Gabrielli, Chantal, ‘L’aristocrazia femminile spagnola del IV secolo d.C. fra rivo­ luzione e conservazione’, HAnt 21 (1997), 431–444. Gabrielli, Chantal, ‘Cristianesimo e potere nell’antichità. Un esempio dalla Hispania Tarraconensis’, SHHA 24 (2006), 205–219. Gabrielli, Chantal, ‘Legislazione conciliare e priscillianesimo’, in Politiche religiose nel mondo antico e tardoantico. Poteri e indirizzi, forme del controllo, idee e prassi di tolleranza – Atti del Convegno internazionale di studi (Firenze, 24–26 settembre 2009) Collana Munera 33, ed. by Giovanni Alberto Cecconi and Chantal Gabrielli (Bari: Edipuglia, 2011), pp. 319–337. Gabrielli, Chantal, ‘La sovranità del diritto e il caso di Priscilliano (Leo. ep. 15)’, in Política, Religión y Legislación en el Imperio Romano (ss. IV y V d.C.): Politica, Religione e Legislazione nell’Impero Romano (IV e V secolo d.C.) Collana Munera 37, ed. by María Victoria Escribano Paño and Rita Lizzi (Bari: Edipuglia, 2014), pp. 105–115. Giardina, Andrea, ‘Carità eversiva. Le donazioni di Melania la Giovane e gli equilibri della società tardoromana’, StudStor 29 (1988), 127–142. Gibbon, Edward, Storia della decadenza e caduta dell’Impero Romano, transl. by Gualtiero Belvederi, 5 vols. 9 tomi (Torino: Stein Editrice, 1926). Grossi, Pasquale Vittorino, v. Eresia, eretico, in Dizionario Patristico e di Antichità Cristiane, 3 vols., ed. by Angelo Di Berardino (Casale Monferrato: Marietti, 1983–1988), I (1983), coll. 1187–1191.

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Hidalgo de la Vega, Maria José, ‘Mujeres, carisma y castidad en el cristianismo primitivo’, Gerión 11 (1993), 229–244. Jones, Arthur Hughe M., John Robert Martindale, John Morris, The Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire, I, A.D. 260–395 (Cambridge: 1971). Kahlos, Maijastina, ‘Artis heu magicis: The Label of Magic in the Fourth-Century Disputes and Conflicts’, in Pagans and Christians in Late Antique Rome, ed. by Michele R. Salzman, Marianne Sághy, and Rita Lizzi Testa (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), pp. 162–177 Lizzi, Rita, ‘Una società esortata all’ascetismo: misure legislative e motivazioni economiche nel IV–V secolo d.C.’, StudStor 30 (1989), 129–153. Mandouze, André, Prosopographie chrétienne du Bas-Empire. I. Prosopographie de l’Afrique chrétienne (305–533) (Paris: CNRS, 1982). Marcos, Mar, ‘Los orígenes del monacato en la Península Ibérica. Manifestaciones ascéticas en el siglo IV’, SEA 46 (1994), 353–376. Marcos, Mar, ‘Ortodossia ed eresia nel cristianesimo ispano del IV secolo. Il caso delle donne’, SEA 46 (1994), 417–435. Mattoso, José, ‘A necromancia na idade média’, Humanitas 50 (1998), 263–283. Olivares Guillém, Andrés, ‘El corpus documental sobre el priscilianismo y su proceso de incorporación a la investigación contemporánea’, HAnt 25 (2001), 393–422. Olivares Guillém, Andrés, ‘El corpus documental priscilianista: análisis y valo­ ración’, HAnt 26 (2002), 211–234. Olivares Guillém, Andrés, ‘San Jerónimo ante el priscilianismo’, in Scripta antiqua. In honorem Ángel Montenegro Duque Y José María Blázquez Martínez, ed. by Santos Crespo Ortiz de Zárate and Angeles Alonso Ávila (Valladolid: Los coordinadores, 2002), pp. 755–759. Orlandis Rovira, José, and Domingo Ramos-Lissón, Historia de los Concilios de la España romana y visigoda (Pamplona: Eunsa. Ediciones Universidad de Navarra, 1986). Pacien de Barcelone. Ècrits (Sources Chrétiennes 410), Introduction, texte critique, commentaire et index par Carmelo Granado, Traduction par Chantal Épitalon and Michel Lestienne (Paris: Edition du Cerf, 1995). Ramos-Lissón, Domingo, ‘El tratamiento de la mujer en los cánones del concilio I de Toledo (a. 400)’, in I concili della cristianità occidentale: secoli III – V, XXX Incontro di Studiosi dell’Antichità Cristiana, Roma 3–5 maggio 2001 (Roma: Institutum Patristicum Augustinianum, 2002), pp. 607–618. Salamito, Jean-Marie, ‘La chistianisation et les nouvelles règles de la vie sociale’, in Histoire du Christianisme. II. Naissance d’une chrétienté (250–430), ed. by Charles and Luce Pietri (Paris: Desclée, 1995), pp. 675–717. Sanchez, Sylvain Jean Gabriel, ‘L’historiographie du priscillianisme (XIXe–XXIe siècles)’, RecAug 34 (2005), 195–238.

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Sotomayor, Manuel, ‘Romanos, pero cristianos. A próposito de algunos cánones del concilio de Elvira’, in Cristianismo y aculturación en tiempos del Imperio romano, Antigüedad y Cristianismo 7, ed. by Antonino González Blanco and José María Blázquez Martínez (Murcia: Universidad de Murcia, 1990), pp. 11–17. Veyne, Paul, Quando l’Europa è diventata cristiana (312–394). Costantino, la conversione, l’Impero, trans. by Emanuele Lana (Milano: Garzanti 2017). Vidas e Paixões dos Apóstoles, ed. by Isabel Vilares Cepeda, 2 vols. (Lisboa: Instituto Nacional de Investigação Científica, 1982). Vilella Masana, Josep, ‘Las iglesias y las cristianidades hispanas. Panorama proso­ pográf ico’, in La Hispania del siglo IV. Administración, economía, sociedad, cristianización, ed. by Ramón Teja (Bari: Edipuglia, 2002), pp. 117–159. Wohleb, Ludolf, ‘Bischof Pacianus von Barcelona und sein Gegner, der Novatianer Sympronianus (Sempronianus). (Mit einer Sammlung der Fragmente Sympronians)’, in Gesammelte Aufsätze zur Kulturgeschichte Spaniens, II, ed. by Konrad Beyerle and Georg Schreiber (Münster: Verlag der Aschendorffschen, 1930), pp. 25–35.

About the author Chantal Gabrielli holds two doctorates; currently she is Adjunct Professor of Latin Epigraphy at the University of Florence. She deals with the economic and social history of the Roman world, the historiography of the late republic and the prosopography of late ancient Hispania. She has written numerous essays and volumes.

13. Expulsados de la Historia: El argumento histórico en la polémica antijudía hispana (siglos IV-VII) Raúl González-Salinero

Abstract Following the previous patristic tradition, the Hispano-Christian authors oriented the historical interpretation as an essential element in the antiJewish discourse around the concept of the Salvation History. With the coming of the Christ, the Jews are ‘evicted’ from History in favour of the Verus Israel. The Augustinian theory of the ‘witness people’ would be assumed with probative value within providentialist history to the detriment of the ancient ‘chosen people’. Subjected by divine design to Christian political power, the Jews suffer the deserved punishment for their innumerable sins. The inheritance of this stigma and the inveterate Jewish unbelief will arouse divine reprobation while allowing the Gentile people, guided by the light of the Christ, to be uniquely incorporated into the Salvation History. Keywords: Late Antiquity, Hispano-Christian authors, History of Salvation, Anti-Jewish polemics.

Devoto pueblo cristiano, este misterio notad: cómo el gran Vespasiano siendo emperador romano tuvo grave enfermedad, que jamás salud halló en los sus dioses vacíos hasta que Dios lo sanó, cuya muerte prometió

Ubric Rabaneda, P. (ed.), Writing History in Late Antique Iberia: Historiography in Theory and Practice from the Fourth to the Seventh Century. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2022 doi 10.5117/9789463729413_ch13

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de vengarla en los judíos. Y salió con grade armada y militar aparato, y por él fue derribada Jerusalén y asolada la sinagoga y Pilato.

Aucto de la destruición de Jerusalén (finales del siglo XV), versos 1-151.

Introducción: la herencia escrituaria Uno de los principios ideológicos que la clase intelectual pagana reprochaba al ‘naciente’ cristianismo era la ‘novedad’, su falta de antigüedad y de una tradición suficientemente consolidada que avalase su doctrina. Por ello, a sus ojos, carecía por completo de legítima autoridad.2 Los defensores a ultranza de las ancestrales creencias arraigadas en el mundo grecorromano recelaban de las nuevas formas de culto religioso por considerar que en su seno escondían la expresión de dañinas supersticiones.3 De ahí que los apologistas se apresuraran a presentar como propios los sagrados escritos de la tradición judía, asegurando que existía una estrecha vinculación entre los antiguos profetas y la doctrina cristológica que fundamentaba la creencia cristiana. 4 La literatura bíblica proporcionaba así a los cristianos una respetable antigüedad, mayor incluso de la que gozaban los propios mitos grecorromanos.5 La Biblia se convirtió, de hecho, en la depositaria de 1 Códice de autos viejos. Selección, ed. por Miguel Ángel Pérez Priego (Madrid: Castalia, 1988), p. 111. 2 Al no contar con el respaldo de una tradición ancestral, el pagano Celso, por ejemplo, consideraba que las doctrinas de los cristianos carecían de autoridad suf iciente como para gozar de credibilidad (Orígenes, Contra Celso, III, 14; V, 33; V, 65; etc.). Vid. Benko, Pagan Rome, p. 155. Sobre la crítica de Celso al cristianismo, cfr. Wilken, The Christians as the Romans Saw Them, pp. 94-125; Ruggiero, La follia dei cristiani, pp. 125–134. Incluso a lo largo del siglo IV, los cristianos todavía continuaban dando respuesta a este tipo de objeciones que procedían del ámbito intelectual pagano. Vid. Courcelle, ‘Polémica anticristiana’, p. 180. 3 Vid. Jaeger, Cristianismo primitivo y paideia griega, p. 103; Wilken, The Christians as the Romans Saw Them, pp. 48–50 y 66–67. Sobre el particular, vid. Ahora en general Rüpke, Superstición o individualidad. 4 Por ejemplo, Tertuliano, Apol., 19, 1–21, 1. Vid. Gigon, La cultura antigua y el cristianismo, pp. 205–206; Burrows, ‘Christianity in the Roman Forum’, pp. 225–227. 5 Hubo autores cristianos como Tertuliano, Clemente de Alejandría, Hipólito de Roma y, posteriormente, Eusebio de Cesarea y Jerónimo que recurrieron incluso a artificiales isocronismos

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la ‘verdad histórica’, si bien el sentido de muchos de sus libros no parecía del todo claro.6 A pesar de que autores como Porfirio acusaron a los evangelistas de falsedad en sus referencias a los profetas hebreos y denunciaron las clamorosas contradicciones existentes entre los distintos relatos evangélicos así como entre los propios libros veterotestamentarios (fragmentos 29, 33, 52, 61, 71, etc.), los apologistas no cejaron en su intento por establecer concomitancias de carácter tanto alegórico como tipológico entre ambos Testamentos con el fin demowstrar que los anuncios proféticos en torno a la esperanza mesiánica se cumplían perfectamente en la persona de Jesús de Nazaret, convertido ya en el Cristo.7 Era evidente, no obstante, que la asunción de esta herencia escrituraria impedía en buena medida la reafirmación hacia el exterior de la identidad cristiana al margen del universo cultural judío.8 Los romanos apenas percibirían inicialmente diferencias sustanciales entre ambas creencias salvo por el hecho de que la corriente paulina, que habría de imponerse en el seno del nuevo movimiento religioso,9 impulsaría pronto, en detrimento de la minoría judeocristiana, un progresivo e imparable proceso de ‘desjudaización’ ―y, en consecuencia, una inevitable e inmediata ideología antijudía― a partir de la formulación de una nueva doctrina universalista.10

entre los profetas de Israel y los héroes y sabios de la Antigüedad. Vid. Momigliano, ‘Historiografía pagana y cristiana’, pp. 100–101. 6 En efecto, tal y como advirtió en su día Charles N. Cochrane, Cristianismo y cultura clásica, ‘[…] a la ambigüedad de las palabras se unía otra, la material, surgida del hecho de que la enseñanza, aun tocante a cuestiones fundamentales, parecía diferir en los diversos libros, lo que especialmente acaecía entre los del Antiguo y del Nuevo Testamento; y, en algunos puntos la diferencia era tan holgada que parecía sugerir absoluta relatividad de doctrina […]’ (p. 461). 7 Cochrane, Cristianismo y cultura clásica, p. 224; Luneau, L’histoire du salut, pp. 421–423; Whitby, ‘Imperial Christian Historiography’, p. 347. No obstante, para Porfirio los evangelistas fueron ‘inventores, no testigos’ (fragmento 60) de la doctrina del Cristo (ἐφευρετὰς οὐχ ἵστορας). Según él, los cristianos gentiles abandonaron las costumbres de los antepasados (τῶν πατρίων ἀποστάντες) para acogerse a las propias de los judíos, aunque ni siquiera se mantuvieron fieles a éstas, ya que fundaron un nuevo culto (fragmento 15). Vid. Ramos Jurado, Ritoré Ponce, Carmona Vázquez, Rodríguez Moreno, Ortolá Salas, y Zamora Calvo, Porfirio de Tiro, p. 57. Sobre la crítica de Porfirio al cristianismo, cfr. Whitby, ‘Imperial Christian Historiography’, pp. 126–163; Ruggiero, La follia dei cristiani, pp. 135–150. 8 En el siglo II Marción llevó al extremo la diferenciación entre ambos Testamentos, distinguiendo al dios de Justicia que había inspirado al Antiguo del dios de Amor presente en el Nuevo, lo que virtualmente anulaba el valor pref igurativo de las Escrituras judías como revelación continua de la divina voluntad. Sobre el particular, vid. Lieu, Marcion. 9 Vid. Callan, Forgetting the Root. Cfr. Puente Ojea, Ideología e Historia, p. 239; Puente Ojea, Orígenes del credo cristiano, p. 85. 10 Vid. ahora González Salinero, ‘Los orígenes de la ideología cristiana’.

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Historia de la Salvación Al establecer la venida del Cristo en un momento determinado del pasado, la nueva religión quedó ligada invariablemente a un acontecimiento situado en la historia. Según S. G. F. Brandon, ‘Christianity has often been described as the historical religion par excellence’.11 Esta condición determinista permitió establecer un sistema cronológico distintivo, dividiendo el tiempo en dos eras a partir del nacimiento del Cristo como punto de demarcación temporal, lo que, a su vez, favoreció una lectura teológica y teleológica de la historia,12 la cual se convierte en el asidero ‘salvífico’ de la llamada ‘encarnación del Verbo’.13 Esta interpretación paulina de la historia establece como principio ineludible la intervención divina en el devenir de la humanidad anulando cualquier pretensión judía en torno a su supuesto estatus de pueblo elegido conforme a una Antigua Alianza ya revocada.14 De hecho, la identificación del nuevo Israel con la comunidad cristiana universal comportaba un nuevo ‘pacto’15 y, por tanto, la transferencia de las promesas bíblicas al Verus Israel (del que estaría excluido no sólo el pueblo judío, sino también toda corriente judeocristiana o judaizante).16 Desde la época de la primera apologética cristiana, el concepto de ‘Historia de la Salvación’, entendido en palabras de Hans Conzelmann como ‘the objectification of faith into a particular view of history’, ha supuesto siempre para el cristianismo un conflicto irresoluble con el judaísmo. Para la Iglesia resultaba imposible declararse el verdadero pueblo de Dios sin negar al mismo tiempo esta condición a los judíos que habían sobrevivido a la llegada del Cristo y que, sin embargo, no habían aceptado ni aceptaban la fe cristiana.17 A partir del siglo II, las comunidades cristianas se vieron 11 Brandon, History, Time and Deity, p. 148. 12 Ibid., p. 205. 13 Forte, ‘Dimensione storica della teología’, p. 98. En este sentido, resulta significativo que en las comunidades cristianas se impusiera pronto el uso absoluto del neologismo σωτήρ o saluator para designar al Cristo (Dölger, Paganos y cristianos, pp. 137–138). 14 En palabras de Samuel G. F. Brandon, ‘according to this interpretation, history demonstrates the providence of God, not, as the Jews believed, to achive the destiny of a chosen people, but to accomplish the salvation of a fallen humanity’ (History, Time and Deity, p. 149). Cfr. Isaac, ‘Interférence de la théologie’; Luneau, L’histoire du salut, p. 414. 15 Samuel G. F. Brandon sostiene de nuevo que, ‘the idea of a divine covenant, lost by the Jews and inherited by the Christians, which occurs here, becomes, in a slightly different form, a fundamental concept of the Christian Weltanschauung [‘visión del mundo’]’ (Brandon, History, Time and Deity, p. 191). 16 Brandon, History, Time and Deity, pp. 171–172; Puente Ojea, Ideología e Historia, pp. 202 y 239; Mendels, ‘Christian Memories of Jews’, p. 118; Chilton, ‘Christian Reconstruction of Judaism’, p. 93. 17 Conzelmann, Gentiles, Jews, Christians, p. 243.

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obligadas a definir, por contraste, su identidad religiosa frente al pueblo de la Sinagoga.18 A pesar de compartir unas mismas Escrituras Sagradas, el proceso de ‘desjudaización’ que se había desarrollado paralelamente a la paulatina consolidación de la corriente paulina dentro del cristianismo, condicionaría decisivamente el discurso doctrinal que, a partir de entonces, caracterizaría al nuevo movimiento religioso. Para ello, era imprescindible someter el legado escriturario judío a una innovadora interpretación que permitiera deslindar la nueva identidad religiosa de una tradición que se consideraba ya agotada.19 La lectura teológica cristiana del Antiguo Testamento conducía inevitablemente a la introducción de la idea de cambio evolutivo en la historia, superando así la vieja concepción griega del tiempo cíclico en la sucesión de los imperios, adaptando el conocido modelo biológico desarrollado tan profusamente por la historiografía romana en su visión de la evolución de las naciones entre el declive por envejecimiento y el rebrote por renovación, e ignorando dentro de lo posible las tradicionales concepciones judías que oscilaban entre el radicalismo apocalíptico y la inmóvil rigidez jurídica de carácter atemporal.20 Ahora bien, la idea de progreso en la historia, desarrollada especialmente a partir de Orígenes con el único fin de llegar a definir un propósito divino en el discurrir humano, exigía una adecuación de las tradiciones y hechos memorables del mundo pagano a las venerables narraciones bíblicas, un proceso que iría inevitablemente en detrimento del judaísmo.21 Esta concepción cristiana del devenir humano subordinaba necesariamente los hechos históricos a una dimensión puramente religiosa 22 . De hecho, la historia se convertía en ‘Historia de la Salvación’, reuniendo el destino de todos los hombres en una misma dirección y sometiendo sus vidas a los inescrutables propósitos divinos. Por ello, al acercarse a la historia, los cristianos volvían paradójicamente su mirada al pasado con vistas al futuro, creando una visión en perspectiva escatológica que era al mismo tiempo histórica y metahistórica.23 Podría afirmarse que escribían acerca de la historia principalmente por razones teológicas, tratando de ‘cristianizar’ 18 Lieu, Christian Identity, 2004, p. 307. 19 Vid. Judge, ‘Christian Innovation’, pp. 16 y passim.; cfr. Horbury, ‘Jews and Christians on the Bible’, pp. 200–225. 20 Inglebert, Interpretatio Christiana, p. 547. Sobre la lectura teológico-cristiana de la historia, vid. en general Castelli, I presupposti di una teologia. 21 Momigliano, ‘Historiografía pagana y cristiana’, p. 99; Kinzig, ‘The Idea of Progress’, pp. 129–131. 22 Inglebert, Interpretatio Christiana, p. 550. 23 Lana, La storiografia latina, pp. 15–20.

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y armonizar en la medida de lo posible la historia de los pueblos gentiles y la historia bíblica de los judíos.24 Sin embargo, este proceso conllevaba implícitamente la justificación de la apropiación cristiana de todas las promesas bíblicas y el desalojo definitivo del antiguo pueblo de Israel de la Historia de la Salvación.25 El interés principal de la Iglesia con respecto a la muerte del Cristo, transformada desde el principio en deicidio, fue incriminar de manera particular y exclusiva a todo el pueblo judío. La reprobación divina provocaría la ruina definitiva de Israel, manifestada en la destrucción del Templo de Jerusalén,26 al tiempo que permitiría a la Iglesia ocupar el lugar central dentro de la Historia de la Salvación.27 A partir del siglo IV, con la cristianización del Imperio, se acentuó aun más la convicción de que la Iglesia se había convertido en el Verus Israel y que su destino estaba ya indisolublemente unido al de la Roma cristiana.28 Ciertamente, la corriente paulina había ya dejado abierto el camino para la ‘concordia’ entre la doctrina de la nueva religión y los valores y estructuras socio-políticas del mundo romano,29 pero no será hasta el siglo III cuando los cristianos abandonen definitivamente los prejuicios de origen judío en contra de Roma y comiencen a admirar su glorioso pasado y a interpretar el concepto de ‘romanidad’ dentro de la historia divina de la salvación universal.30 24 Inglebert, Interpretatio Christiana, p. 550. 25 Tison, ‘Salus Israël’, pp. 106–108. 26 Whitby, ‘Imperial Christian Historiography’, p. 364. En lo que atañe a la destrucción del Templo, fue muy habitual en la literatura cristiana la utilización interesada de la obra de Filón de Alejandría y, especialmente, Flavio Josefo sobre las consecuencias históricas de la primera Guerra Judía (66–70). Al respecto, vid. Cancik, ‘Die Funktion’; Otto, Philo of Alexandria, pp. 186–187 (respecto a la interpretación de la destrucción del Templo y la exclusión de los judíos de la historia salvífica por Eusebio de Cesarea). 27 Luneau, L’histoire du salut, pp. 413–414; Judant, Judaïsme et christianisme, p. 81. La universalidad del mensaje cristiano, frente a la exclusividad del pensamiento judío, implicaba la oposición entre el concepto de salvación para toda la humanidad y la promesa rabínica de santificación sólo a Israel. Sobre el particular, vid. Neusner, ‘The Absoluteness’. 28 Inglebert, Les romains chrétiens, p. 8; Inglebert, Interpretatio Christiana, pp. 370 y 388–389. 29 Sobre el particular, vid. especialmente Puente Ojea, Ideología e Historia, pp. 217 y passim. y 224 y passim. 30 Inglebert, Les romains chrétiens, p. 34; Inglebert, Interpretatio Christiana, pp. 365–366. De hecho, a la luz de la profecía bíblica de Daniel, una gran mayoría de los autores cristianos occidentales que cultivaron o se acercaron al género histórico (por ejemplo, Jerónimo, Sulpicio Severo, Orosio, Agustín) consideró, aunque con diferentes matices, que el Imperio romanocristiano se había convertido en el cuarto y último reino universal en el que la Iglesia conduciría a los cristianos hacia su salvación. Vid. De Boer, ‘Rome’, esp. pp. 200–204; Pavan, ‘Le profezie di Daniel’; Siniscalco, ‘Profezia e storia’, pp. 317–328; Sánchez Salor, Historiografía latino-cristiana, pp. 136 y passim. Respecto a Orosio, vid. el reciente estudio de Ramelli, ‘Alcune osservazioni’,

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Con Eusebio de Cesarea comenzó a desarrollarse con fuerza autónoma el principio de la Divina Providencia como motor esencial de la idea de progreso en la historia.31 Para él, sin la intervención divina difícilmente podrían comprenderse los cambios producidos con Constantino en favor de la religión cristiana.32 La teología política de Eusebio rebosaba, en definitiva, optimismo histórico,33 aunque, desde luego, sólo respecto al glorioso destino del pueblo cristiano porque los judíos estaban excluidos de manera radical de la historia sagrada.34 De hecho, postuló una discontinuidad histórica entre los patriarcas hebreos y los judíos, reservando para los cristianos la gloriosa herencia de los primeros y rechazando de forma abominable la de los segundos.35 La desventura de los judíos a lo largo de su historia constituía una prueba irrefutable de que habían sufrido definitivamente el abandono de Dios. El castigo que pesaba sobre ellos por haber rechazado y dado muerte al Mesías era irrevocable, razón por la que su presencia en el mundo encontraba difícil acomodo en la Historia de la Salvación. De hecho, para el historiador de Cesarea, el pueblo judío se hizo extraño a la ‘Historia de Dios’.36 Los autores cristianos occidentales recogerían posteriormente gran parte de estos postulados. Así, por ejemplo, en la concepción histórica de Hilario de Poitiers, los infieles (judíos) y los herejes no participarían de los beneficios divinos porque su sombrío futuro estaría marcado únicamente por la condena al fuego eterno, salvo que con penitencia (spatium poenitentiae) pp. 179–191 y las páginas que, en relación con este tema, le dedica Sánchez Salor, Historiografía latino-cristiana, pp. 138 y passim. 31 Vid. Calderone, ‘Storia e teologia in Eusebio di Cesarea’, pp. 171–184. Con la concesión a la Divina Providencia de un papel central en la Historia, los historiadores cristianos de la Antigüedad tardía no podían ya aceptar las nociones clásicas de ‘Hado’ o ‘Fortuna’ como factores que determinaban los acontecimientos históricos. Sobre el particular, vid. Croke y Emmett, ‘Historiography in Late Antiquity’, p. 5. 32 Vid. en general Farina, L’Impero. Cfr. ahora Legegang, ‘Eusebius’, p. 59. 33 Vid. Kinzig, ‘The Idea of Progress’, pp. 131–134. 34 Milburn, Early Christian Interpretations of History, pp. 70–71; Mendels, ‘Christian Memories of Jews’, pp. 117–118. Según puso de manifiesto Robert A. Markus, ‘Church History’, existieron tres temas esenciales en la obra histórica de Eusebio que contribuyeron, unas veces por contraste y otras por def inición, a la conf iguración de la propia identidad de la Iglesia: el judaísmo, el paganismo y el fenómeno del martirio cristiano (p. 5). Sobre la importancia de la cuestión del judaísmo en las historias de los autores posteriores de lengua griega (principalmente Sozomeno y Sócrates), vid. Urbainczyk, ‘Observations’, pp. 355–373. 35 Praep. Evang., V, 3, 1; VII, 6, 3–4; VIII, 10, 18. Vid. Inglebert, Interpretatio Christiana, pp. 501 y 515; Urbano, ‘Narratives of Decline’, p. 48. 36 A modo de ejemplo, Hist. Eccl., II, 3, 1ss.; II, 9, 1; II, 23, 19; III, 5; III, 7, 1; Praep. Evang., XV, 1, 8–9; Comment. in Isaiam, passim; etc. Vid. Luneau, L’histoire du salut, pp. 123–128; Lucrezi, Messianismo, p. 133; Hollerich, Eusebius of Caesarea’s, pp. 33–37; Thelamon, ‘Écrire l’histoire’, p. 231; Morgan, ‘Eusebius of Caesarea’, pp. 204 y passim.

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lograsen ‘regresar’ al Cristo y acceder así a la resurrección37. Para Ambrosio de Milán, la supervivencia temporal de la Sinagoga en el Imperio romano constituía una anomalía histórica capaz de provocar un gran daño a la Iglesia. En una época en la que el Imperio cristiano gozaba ya de una sólida firmeza, el obispo de Milán no concebía la historia universal al margen de la historia religiosa del mundo, ni un Imperio romano ajeno a la Historia de la Salvación38, razón por la cual la mínima pretensión de reconocimiento del judaísmo plantearía, a ojos del pueblo cristiano, una inquietante sombra de duda sobre las enseñanzas de la Iglesia39. A su vez, la lógica providencialista de Agustín de Hipona establecía la crucifixión del Cristo como un acto decisivo en detrimento de los judíos y en beneficio de los romanos; de unos romanos que aparecen cada vez más identificados con el cristianismo. 40 La entrada en masa de los paganos en la Iglesia durante la época imperial romana fue paradójicamente favorecida por los propios judíos, quienes, al rechazar al Cristo, se convirtieron en apóstatas de Dios41 y, en consecuencia, fueron castigados con la destrucción de sus lugares santos, lo que, por otro lado, provocó su irrevocable exclusión de la Historia de la Salvación.42 La única función de su degradada existencia era servir como pueblo testigo de la verdad cristiana verificada históricamente conforme al diseño temporal de un plan divino inamovible. 43

Autores hispanos tardorromanos En el extenso poema compuesto en hexámetros bajo el título de Historia evangélica en cuatro libros (Euangelicorum libri quattuor), Juvenco comparte con su contemporáneo Eusebio el firme propósito de borrar en todo lo posible cualquier rasgo que permitiera considerar a los Evangelios como historia judía. Como muy bien demostró en su día Jean-Michel Poinsotte, nos hallamos ante una polémica antijudía por omisión. 44 Salvo los imprescindibles 37 Comm. Math., V, 12; IX, 8; XXI, 6. Vid. Rousseau, ‘The Exegete as Historian’, p. 111. 38 Vid. Luneau, L’histoire du salut, pp. 250 y passim. (p. 260: ‘l’histoire religieuse du monde progresse et elle construit l’empire’). Cfr. Inglebert, ‘Les causes de l’existence’, pp. 36 y passim. 39 González Salinero, El antijudaísmo, p. 201. 40 Civ. Dei, V, 18. Vid. Brandon, History, Time and Deity, pp. 194–195; Doignon, ‘La médiation d’Agustin’, p. 50. 41 Serm., 87, 2, 3. Vid. González Salinero, El antijudaísmo, p. 164. 42 Luneau, L’histoire du salut, pp. 314–315 y 381. 43 Vid. González Salinero, El antijudaísmo, pp. 202–205. 44 Poinsotte, Juvencus, pp. 37 y passim.

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para la narración, el poeta hispano omite un gran número de términos y nombres propios relacionados con la esencia del judaísmo45 y apenas hace referencia al pueblo elegido y a su historia bíblica en un evidente intento de plasmar, en cambio, la preeminencia de la Iglesia en su condición de Verus Israel. 46 El uso peyorativo del término Iudaeus frente al favorable de Israelita o Hebraeus, como hiciera igualmente el historiador Eusebio de Cesarea, perseguía una intención claramente polémica. 47 Su incisiva crítica al pueblo judío que, ciegamente legalista y deicida, había rechazado y asesinado al Cristo (IV, 619-624 y 669-670) a pesar de que éste había sido repetidamente anunciado por los profetas (I, 195; I, 483-484), era fiel reflejo de su firme propósito de minimizar y degradar la herencia judía que había recibido el cristianismo. De ahí que tratara de arrancar a Jesús de Nazaret de sus orígenes judíos sometiéndole, al igual que a sus discípulos, a un hábil proceso de ‘desjudaización’ que permitiera alejar a la figura del Cristo de la impietas iudaica. 48 Como ya ha sido señalado, la asunción cristiana de los textos veterotestamentarios suscitó muy a menudo dudas doctrinales en el seno de la comunidad de fieles que afectaban a la propia identidad religiosa. En su labor pastoral, los obispos trataron de ofrecer una explicación que permitiera acomodar la herencia escrituraria judía a la tradición evangélica acudiendo principalmente a argumentos históricos. En su tercera carta a Simproniano, Paciano, obispo de Barcelona muerto entre el 384 y el 388, presentó el controvertido tema de la continuidad y, al mismo tiempo, discontinuidad entre el antiguo Israel y la Iglesia (nuevo Israel) forzando la interpretación de las antiguas Escrituras en función de la figura mesiánica que en ellas había sido anunciada. De esta forma, establecía la continuidad entre ambos Testamentos a partir de la fe de los patriarcas como prefiguración de la gracia que habría de venir con el Cristo. Una vez que, según la doctrina cristiana, dicha venida se hubo verificado, se produjo una discontinuidad en la historia que causó la caducidad de las antiguas normas y tradiciones por las que, hasta entonces, se había regido el pueblo judío dando paso a una nueva era dominada por la Iglesia (Epist., III, 8, 13-14 y 26-27). 49 En un comentario a cierto pasaje del Evangelio de Mateo (22, 8-9), Gregorio, obispo 45 Ibid., pp. 57–83. 46 González Salinero, El antijudaísmo, p. 44. 47 Barcala Muñoz, Biblioteca antijudaica, vol. I, p. 140. 48 Poinsotte, Juvencus, pp. 27–28: ‘[…] il va tenter de couper le Dieu fait homme de ses attaches humaines, de dissimuler son appartenance à l’éthnie juive, afin d’épargner à l’image qu’il veut donner au Christ le contact avilissant de l’impietas iudaica […]’. 49 Barcala Muñoz, Biblioteca antijudaica, vol. I, p. 157.

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de Elvira durante la segunda mitad del siglo IV, presenta el ignominioso rechazo de los judíos al Cristo y la decidida vocación de los gentiles como los fundamentos mismos del verdadero Israel: a pesar de que los judíos habían sido los primeros en ser invitados a creer en el Cristo, fueron los gentiles quienes terminarían por ser llamados de entre todas las naciones para formar el verdadero pueblo de Dios (Tract., II, 6).50 Por su infidelidad, los judíos fueron repudiados y castigados por la Divina Providencia con la destrucción del Templo y su dispersión errante por el mundo (Tract., III, 21; XIII, 10-11).51 De hecho, su interpretación sobre la caída del reino de Israel a manos de los romanos como prueba de la venida del Cristo resulta realmente novedosa. El argumento empleado por Gregorio se desarrolla a partir de la exégesis de cierto pasaje del Génesis (49, 10) en el que Jacob había profetizado a Judá que su reino permanecería en pie hasta la venida del Mesías: si éste todavía estaba por venir, tal y como pretendían los judíos, el reino de Israel tendría que haber seguido existiendo y no sometido, como se encontraba, al poder romano, razón por la que la venida del Cristo ya se había producido precisamente en las mismas fechas en que el Imperio acabó definitivamente con la independencia de aquel antiguo reino (Tract., VI, 41-42).52 En su obra poética, Prudencio retoma el modelo histórico ambrosiano (que a su vez había supuesto una extensión de la teología histórica eusebiana) y, sin apenas discordancias, lo somete a una profunda revisión mediante la cual logra corregir ciertas incoherencias de éste, su precedente más inmediato.53 Para el poeta, Dios es quien, sin duda, dirige la Historia según un plan divino perfectamente trazado en el que la buena estrella de los romanos ocupa un lugar muy destacado (C. Symm., I, 287-290).54 Por ello, para Prudencio, el Imperio romano-cristiano suponía la última etapa de la historia.55 De profunda educación clásica y retórica, pensaba que la Iglesia del Cristo había asumido el destino de Roma y, al tiempo que había heredado sus más elevados valores cívicos, había logrado transformar el 50 Ibid., p. 166; González Salinero, ‘A Broken Coexistence’, p. 271. 51 Barcala Muñoz, Biblioteca antijudaica, vol. I, pp. 167 y 174; González Salinero, ‘Preaching and Jews’, p. 29. 52 Barcala Muñoz, Biblioteca antijudaica, vol. I, p. 169. 53 Inglebert, ‘Les causes de l’existence’, pp. 36–37; Inglebert, Interpretatio Christiana, pp. 366–367. Para lo que sigue, vid. González Salinero, Infelix Iudaea, pp. 34–36, 60–63 y 123–124. 54 Cacitti, ‘Subdita Christo’, p. 424. Al mismo tiempo, Prudencio desmiente cualquier responsabilidad de los antiguos dioses paganos en las gloriosas victorias de los romanos (vid., por ejemplo, C. Symm., II, 551–555 y 583–592). Vid. Pietsch, ‘Aeternas temptare vias’, p. 266. 55 Vid. C. Symm., I, 587–590; II, 583 y passim.; Perist., II, 425 y passim.

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antiguo espíritu pagano en sincero fervor por la religión cristiana.56 Sin embargo, no era posible renunciar completamente a la herencia judía. De hecho, la historia del cristianismo encuentra su origen en el Antiguo Testamento y, con la llegada del Cristo, emerge como fuerza renovadora (y anunciada) de la voluntad divina, dando lugar al inicio de una nueva época.57 Es a partir de ese momento cuando el devenir histórico del cristianismo, dependiente hasta entonces de la tradición judía, confluye definitivamente con el mundo romano.58 El pasado remoto descrito en las antiguas Escrituras se transforma en una prefiguración que oculta, a modo de presagio, una realidad regeneradora situada en un futuro inexorable: ‘¡tan grande es la fuerza del nuevo credo!’, exclama Prudencio.59 Ante esa fuerza arrolladora, los antiguos romanos no podrán sino claudicar y ‘ofrecer’ finalmente su Imperio a la Iglesia, mientras que, al rechazar al Cristo, el destino fatídico de los judíos quedaba ya escrito para su eterna desgracia.60 De esta forma, Prudencio yuxtapone a la tradición mesiánica judía (transformada ya profundamente por el cristianismo) una ‘historia mesiánica romana’ en la que, por voluntad divina, los judíos han sido reemplazados por el pueblo romano-cristiano. De hecho, los cristianos se convirtieron legítimamente en los ‘segundos descendientes de Israel’.61 Pero a diferencia de los primeros, estos últimos habían demostrado ser merecedores de los beneficios divinos que, según los anuncios bíblicos, les habían sido reservados. Así pues, la Iglesia del Cristo, convertida en el nuevo y verdadero Israel, estaba destinada, por voluntad divina, a sustituir al antiguo, y ahora desahuciado, pueblo elegido. Por ello, los cristianos constituían el auténtico linaje de Abrahán, mientras que los judíos, des­ cendientes suyos sólo según la carne, habían perdido toda ascendencia espiritual (Apoth., 364-372).

56 Torti, ‘Patriae sua gloria Christus’, p. 342. Cfr. Rivera de Ventosa, ‘A los orígenes’, p. 10. 57 Apoth., 147; 217–218; 348–375; Hamart., praef., 25–26; Cath., IX, 31; 40; 46; 64; 69; X, 69; Psych., praef., 1–8; 162. Vid. Fabian, Dogma und Dichtung, p. 106. Todas las traducciones de los textos proceden de las ediciones citadas en la bibliografía. 58 Vid. Brożek, ‘Das Historiosophische’, p. 214. Según afirma Marc Mastrangelo, ‘the idea of a Roman Christian collective guides Prudentius’ use of the history, which attempts to unify the Roman pagan, Christian, and Jewish traditions […]’ (p. 39). 59 Apoth., 548–549: Vis tanta nouellae / credulitatis inest. Vid. Sobre el particular, vid. Inglebert, ‘Les causes de l’existence’, p. 39; Sánchez Salor, Historiografía latino-cristiana, pp. 132 y passim. 60 Apoth., 549–551. De hecho, la negación del Cristo por parte de los judíos fue asumida por Prudencio como parte integrante, aunque fuese por exclusión, de la historia del cristianismo. Sobre el particular, vid. Brożek, ‘Das Historiosophische’, p. 205. 61 Perist., I, 40: secundos Istrahelis posteros.

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Según Prudencio, el Templo de Jerusalén en ruinas había sido sustituido por uno nuevo, espiritual e imperecedero, que, asentado sobre firmes cimientos, gozaba de la protección del Cristo.62 Así pues, la Jerusalén terrenal ya no albergaba ningún Templo sagrado que hubiera de ser construido en piedra. Sólo el mensaje del Cristo podría dar fundamento al verdadero templo del alma. Por ello, Roma (y no Jerusalén), convertida al cristianismo y, por tanto, depositaria de la confianza divina, habría de perdurar como símbolo y, al mismo tiempo, baluarte inexpugnable del Evangelio cristiano.63 En definitiva, tal y como estaba previsto en el ánimo de Dios, la destrucción del Templo de Jerusalén estaba destinada a generar sufrimiento únicamente a los judíos. Para Prudencio, todas las desgracias del pueblo judío habían sido decretadas, a modo de ‘venganza’ (uindice; uirtus… ultrix)64, por voluntad divina (Apoth., 509-511).65 Ahora bien, los romanos (a quienes el poeta parece exonerar de toda responsabilidad y atribuir un sentimiento casi de compasión con respecto a los judíos) habían sido el instrumento del que Dios se había servido para golpear al pueblo deicida sin ninguna misericordia (uindicia diuina).66 Como acertadamente observó en su día Bernhard Blumenkranz, este papel providencial atribuido a las tropas de Pompeyo (63 a. C.) y especialmente de Vespasiano y Tito (70 e. c.) ejecutoras de la destrucción definitiva del Templo como castigo por la crucifixión del Cristo, comenzó a difundirse en la literatura cristiana precisamente a partir de estos versos de Prudencio.67 El tema de la ‘venganza divina’ tendrá tanto éxito en época medieval,

62 Psych., 804–815. La construcción del ‘Templo del Alma’ aparece especialmente ensalzada a continuación, en Psych., 823–887. Sobre el particular, vid. Cambronne, ‘Métamorphoses’, pp. 458 y passim. Según este autor moderno, ‘le Temple de l’Âme peut donc, semble-t-il, être compris comme cette Jérusalem-Terre Promise pour un Temps méta-historique’ (p. 466) y poco después sostiene que ‘les thèmes bibliques du Temple et de la Cité Céleste sont totalmente intériorisés pour s’integrer dans le project d’ensemble de la Psychomachia’ (p. 473). 63 Heim, La Théologie de la Victoire, pp. 291–292. 64 Vid. Schreckenberg, ‘Juden und Judentum’, p. 99; Schreckenberg, Die christlichen, p. 317. 65 Vid. Schreckenberg, ‘Juden und Judentum’, p. 100; Schreckenberg, Die christlichen, p. 317; González Salinero, El antijudaísmo, p. 200. 66 Vid. Schreckenberg, ‘Juden und Judentum’, pp. 95–97; Fabian, Dogma und Dichtung, pp. 108–109; Inglebert, Les romains chrétiens, p. 316; González Salinero, El antijudaísmo, p. 197; Poinsotte, ‘Prudence et les Juifs’, p. 120. 67 Blumenkranz, Il cappello a punta, p. 101, n. 45. En palabras de M.ª Rosa Lida de Markiel, Jerusalén, ‘lo que en los Padres de la Iglesia se presenta como ropaje objetivo de la historia y dignidad intelectual, desborda con furia rencorosa en los hexámetros vehementes de Prudencio (Apotheosis, vv. 503 y passim)’ (p. 23).

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especialmente en las leyendas de la Vindicta Saluatoris, que incluso acabará interpolándose en algunas narraciones apócrifas de la Pasión.68 En su magna obra (Historiarum adversus paganos), redactada a instancias de Agustín entre los años 415 y 417, Orosio presenta la teoría tradicional de los cuatro imperios ensalzando el privilegio que correspondía al romano por haberse producido bajo su égida el nacimiento del Cristo.69 Y si bien el dominio de la Roma cristiana a partir de Constantino se había convertido en el definitivo quinto imperio, cuyo glorioso destino había sido auspiciado por la Divina Providencia, Orosio abandona, en cierto sentido, el rebosante optimismo histórico que Prudencio había reflejado en su obra poética.70 Condicionado, sin duda alguna, por el saqueo de Alarico de la Ciudad Eterna en el año 410, percibió que la Roma cristiana podía tambalearse si no contaba con la colaboración de los nuevos pueblos que tan violentamente habían irrumpido en la historia con el f in de completar, al margen del concepto precedente de barbaritas, el camino de la Salvación conforme al inescrutable plan divino.71 De hecho, llegó a considerar a dichos pueblos como los defensores del Imperio cristiano (Hist., I, 16, 2-3).72 En todo caso, la marginalidad de los judíos en el desarrollo histórico descrito a lo largo de su obra permaneció invariable, siempre en contraste con los designios divinos que tan favorablemente habían beneficiado a la Iglesia como Verus Israel.73 Puesto que nada en la historia escapaba a la voluntad divina (Hist., II, 1, 2-3 y 2, 4),74 la sincronicidad entre el nacimiento del Cristo y la época en la que Augusto, primer emperador romano, instauró la pax romana, no fue para Orosio producto del azar (Hist., III, 8, 5-8; VI, 22, 5).75 De hecho, el papel desempeñado por Roma resultaba esencial en la preparación de la venida del Cristo (Hist., VI, 22, 5) y de la propagación de la ‘buena nueva’ que traía la salvación (Hist., VI, 1, 8; VII, 2, 16).76 Todos los desastres que afectarían 68 Vid. Schreckenberg, Die christlichen, p. 318. Cfr. Barcala Muñoz, Biblioteca antijudaica vol. I, p. 200. Sobre el particular, vid. Lida de Markiel, Jerusalén; Bordier, ‘Rome contre Jérusalem’, pp. 93–123. 69 Fuentes del Rosal, Orosio, p. 189; Ramelli, ‘Alcune osservazioni’. 70 Rivera de Ventosa, ‘A los orígenes’, pp. 9, 12–13. 71 Rivera de Ventosa, ‘A los orígenes’, p. 17. 72 Mir, ‘Orosio’, p. 392; Fuentes del Rosal, Orosio, p. 657. 73 Rohrbacher, The Historians, p. 206; Fear, Orosius, p. 20. 74 De Tejada, ‘Los dos primeros’, p. 196; Fuentes del Rosal, Orosio, pp. 19–24 y 166–167; Rivera de Ventosa, ‘A los orígenes’, p. 15. 75 Según Inglebert (Les romains chrétiens, p. 493), ‘pour Orose, il y a parallèle strict entre Christ et Auguste que symbolise l’empire romain, et la paix est un don du Christ; ceci est évidemment refusé par Augustin au nom de la distinction des deux cités’. Cfr. Rivera de Ventosa, ‘A los orígenes’, p. 16; Barcala Muñoz, Biblioteca antijudaica vol. I, p. 207. 76 Mir, ‘Orosio’, p. 394; Fuentes del Rosal, Orosio, p. 600; Fear, Orosius, p. 20.

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posteriormente al pueblo judío habrían sido consecuencia de los castigos que la Divina Providencia les tenía reservados por haber perseguido y asesinado al Cristo (Hist., VII, 4, 16).77 En su interpretación del signif icado histórico de la destrucción de Jerusalén y su Templo, Orosio presenta la intervención romana como un instrumento de Dios que justificaría la inserción de las ‘naciones’ en la Historia de la Salvación.78 El historiador hispano narra el episodio como una especie de gesta Dei per Romanos de la que los judíos resultan derrotados y cegados a la vista de la Revelación, por un lado, y del poder romano, por otro. De esta forma, la relación entre los romanos y los judíos vendría determinada por la relación entre estos últimos y los cristianos. Para Orosio, de la misma manera que la idea de la ‘futura conversión de los romanos’ (es decir, de las ‘naciones’) encuentra un vínculo directo con la intervención del poder romano en la destrucción ‘profética’ del Templo, el anunciado rechazo del Cristo por parte de los judíos explicaría que su castigo fuese infligido necesariamente por los romanos, los cuales actuarían como instrumento vengador de la Providencia (Hist., VII, 3, 8).79 Por ello, tanto Vespasiano como Tito, artífices de la ruina de los judíos, obtendrían sus merecidas recompensas: con el primero, que conoció la tranquilla serenitas (Hist., VII, 9, 1) y obtuvo la gracia de morir de una enfermedad sin violencia (Hist., VII, 9, 12), Roma se expandió sin necesidad de emprender ninguna otra guerra (Hist., VII, 9, 10); con el segundo, que experimentó la misma muerte que su padre, el poder imperial pudo ejercerse con una tranquilidad que podía calificarse como ideal (Hist., VII, 9, 13-15).80 Perteneciente al extendido género literario del diálogo f icticio, la Altercatio Ecclesiae et Synagogae, obra anónima de origen posiblemente hispano redactada en las postrimerías del dominio romano en Occidente,81 concibe, como el resto de la tradición cristiana, las Sagradas Escrituras como testimonio fidedigno de la historia universal. El origen del debate, situado de manera simulada en sede judicial, versa sobre el esplendor y la decadencia política de la antigua Israel. Ambas 77 Cfr. Hist., VII, 5, 6; VII, 6, 16; VII, 9, 2. Vid. Inglebert, Les romains chrétiens, p. 552; Barcala Muñoz, Biblioteca antijudaica vol. I, p. 208; Fear, Orosius, p. 20. 78 Con la llegada del Cristo, la nueva Israel surgirá de las ruinas del desaparecido Templo de los judíos; de hecho, según Orosio, la Iglesia estaba ya asentada por todo el mundo y daba abundantes frutos (Hist., VII, 9, 5). Barcala Muñoz, Biblioteca antijudaica vol. I, p. 208. 79 Cfr. Hist., VII, 9, 5–6. Vid. Pavan, ‘Cristiani, Ebrei’, pp. 67 y 71–72; Fuentes del Rosal, Orosio, p. 602; González Salinero, El antijudaísmo cristiano, p. 198; Barcala Muñoz, Biblioteca antijudaica vol. I, p. 208. 80 Inglebert, Les romains chrétiens, p. 552. 81 Barcala Muñoz, Biblioteca antijudaica vol. I, p. 270.

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figuras, tanto la que representaba a la Iglesia como la que lo hacía de la Sinagoga, afirman estar de acuerdo en el poder y grandeza que, según la Historia Sagrada, tuvo una vez el ‘Imperio judío’ (Altercatio, líneas 47-51). La configuración retórica de este argumento reivindicativo de la Sinagoga, admitido por su oponente, pudo tener su origen en Isaías, 60, donde se prometió a Israel la supremacía absoluta sobre el mundo, o incluso en Salmos, 48, 5-9, donde el salmista se dirige a Dios agradecido porque todos los reyes que se habían enfrentado a Sión huyeron cuando reconocieron su inferioridad ante tal poderío.82 Sin embargo, aquellos antiguos días de gloria ya no existían en el presente (Altercatio, líneas 58-66), aquella grandeza de la que Israel disfrutó en los tiempos bíblicos, y de la que se enorgullecía la Sinagoga, se había extinguido, dejando libre el camino para la Iglesia, verdadero Israel, a cuyo dominio su oponente se encontraba ahora sometida.83 La condena a la servidumbre de los judíos anunciada ya alegóricamente, según la exégesis cristiana, en las Sagradas Escrituras, aparece ahora confirmada definitivamente por la realidad misma que evidencia el denigrante sometimiento del judaísmo al Imperio cristiano (Altercatio, 121-124). El poder, en suma, se encontraba en la fe cristiana, confirmando así que la Sinagoga había sido definitivamente desposeída de su reino. Además, asegura que los judíos estaban sometidos a tributación y les resultaba imposible detentar ninguna autoridad. De hecho, se les negaba el acceso a la Prefectura del Pretorio, se les prohibía alcanzar la distinción de comes, así como de cualquier otro cargo público, pues se les había retirado el ius honorum (Altercatio, 124-132).84 El autor anónimo de la Altercatio desarrolla así una innovadora argumentación fundamentada especialmente en la interpretación de la Historia, tanto sagrada como profana, a la luz de la cada vez más desfavorable situación socio-jurídica en la que se encontraban inmersas las comunidades judías a lo largo del siglo V.

Padres hispano-visigodos Isidoro de Sevilla (muerto en 636), la f igura intelectual más influyente de la Iglesia visigoda, no fue ajeno a la tradición historiográfica anterior. 82 Weber, ‘The Altercatio’, p. 80. 83 Ribreau, ‘Quand deux allégories’, pp. 188 y 193. 84 Altercatio, 124–132. Sobre el particular, vid. González Salinero, El antijudaísmo cristiano, pp. 115–116; Barcala Muñoz, Biblioteca antijudaica vol. I, pp. 278–279.

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Sin embargo, la nueva realidad política, recientemente alterada con la conversión of icial del reino visigodo a la confesión católica, moldeó su pensamiento en torno al destino del pueblo cristiano en la sucesión de las edades trazadas a lo largo del tiempo histórico por la Divina Providencia, viéndose obligado, una vez más, a dar respuesta a la ‘distorsión’ que suponía la presencia de los judíos en los márgenes de la Historia de la Salvación. Arrastrándolos hacia el decurso de la historia universal, los judíos fueron despojados por Isidoro de su reconocida singularidad. El obispo de Sevilla sitúa la abrupta ruptura entre la cuarta y quinta edad del mundo en la primera caída de Jerusalén y en el inicio del largo período de cautividad de los judíos en Babilonia (‘en cuya época el fuego sobre el altar de Dios fue retirado’)85 con la clara intención de afrontar el cambio de significado del concepto de ‘pueblo elegido’. A partir de entonces, la progresiva pérdida de la predilección divina oscurecerá la historia de los judíos hasta su determinada consumación al final de los tiempos, momento en que, tal y como había sido profetizado, habrían de aceptar al Cristo.86 En la transición hacia la sexta edad del mundo, Isidoro hace coincidir el cumplimiento de lo anunciado por el profeta Daniel con el fin del reino y del sacerdocio de los judíos, así como con el esperado nacimiento del Cristo (Chronica Maiora, 236-237).87 Unificando la historia sagrada y profana en una suerte de movimiento de la humanidad hacia el día del juicio final,88 y restando, por tanto, importancia al decurso del pasado judío, Isidoro conduce primeramente el discurso 85 Isidoro, Chronica Maiora, 167 (CCL 112, p. 83): Hebreorum captiuitas annos LXX, in quibus ignis ab altario dei sublatus et absconditus in puteo post septuagesimo regressionis anno adsumitur inuentus uiuus. 86 El quinto capítulo del segundo libro de su De fide catholica contra Iudaeos lleva por título Quia fine mundi in Christum credituri sunt Iudaei. Vid. Basset, ‘The Use of History’, p. 286. Cfr. Wood, The Politics of Identity, p. 208. 87 Bassett, ‘The Use of History’, p. 287; Wood, The Politics of Identity, p. 126. Ahora bien, para comprender la forma en que operaba el pensamiento isidoriano respecto a la exégesis escrituraria con finalidad histórica resulta muy significativa la siguiente reflexión de Jacqueline GenotBismuth: ‘[…] Une thèse parcourten effet le Chronicon qui soustend toute l’argumentation du Contra Judaeos: elle consiste, par la récapitulation du décompte des annés en comput de creatio mundi, à prouver que les prophéties de Daniel concernant les soixante-dix semaines d’années se sont bien accoplies avec l’avènement de Jésus ainsi prouvé en sa messianité, et à combattre la thèse juive du messie à venir. Or cette démonstration n’est possible que par une manipulation chronologique des temps patriarcaux, opérée par Isidore sur le Canon des temps d’Eusèbe de Césarée qui sur ces points suivait la chronologie du Seder ‘Olam […]’ (‘L’argument de l’Histoire’, p. 211). 88 Por ejemplo, De fide, I, 5, 1–11; I, 61, 1–9. Vid. Bassett, ‘The Use of History’, pp. 281–282; Wood, The Politics of Identity, p. 192.

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histórico hacia los romanos y su Imperio.89 Mientras que en las cinco primeras edades el relato isidoriano muestra la progresiva pérdida de fidelidad de los judíos respecto de la voluntad divina reflejada en las Sagradas Escrituras, en la sexta, inagurada con la providencial implantación del poder imperial de los romanos, aparece registrada la expansión del cristianismo, prueba evidente del signo dominante de la Iglesia universal, desvalada ahora claramente como el Verus Israel (Sent., I, 16, 6-7; Etym., VIII, 1, 1-2). Pero dicho dominio estaba destinado a traspasar incluso la época romana para adentrarse, una vez asumida con fuerza la herencia cultural de la Romanitas,90 en el reino visigodo católico impuesto por designio divino.91 Según Jamie Wood, ‘Isidore’s objetive in recounting Jewish history seems to have been to remove the ‘chosen people’ tag from the Jews and to suggest that the Visigoths were now pre-eminent in the religious sphere’ (2012, p. 194). Así pues, quedaba claro que los judíos habían sido reemplazados por los cristianos como ‘pueblo elegido’ hasta llegar al reino visigodo como culminación de la Historia de la Salvación.92 Pero, ¿cuáles fueron las razones que condujeron a esta transcendental determinación? ¿Cuáles las condiciones que suscitaron esta evolución histórica? Al igual que en el resto de la tradición patrística, Isidoro interpreta las Sagradas Escrituras a la luz de la cristología eclesiástica. Al considerar que los antiguos profetas habían sido precursores del mensaje cristiano, el pasado judío quedó subordinado a la historia cristiana.93 Para el obispo de Sevilla, la llegada del Mesías puso fin de forma irreversible al reino de los judíos.94 Por ello, como ya había expresado Orosio, no había sido casualidad que su nacimiento se hubiera producido en la época del 89 Según Jamie Wood, ‘Isidore’s shortest historical work, the Lesser Chronicle, contains a cluster of entries on Roman victories in the Later Republican perior prior to the birth of Christ. This demonstrated that the Romans supplanted Jews as the Key power in world history, expanding their power on a global scale […]’ (The Politics of Identity, p. 148). 90 ‘Cierto es – afirma Rivera de Ventosa – que Prudencio y san Isidoro convienen en su alta estima de Roma frente al negativismo de Orosio. Mas, téngase en cuenta que si Roma es para Prudencio “aurea”, imperecedera en su imperio y en su cultura, para san Isidoro sigue siendo “aurea” e imperecedera tan sólo en su cultura. Y debemos ahora añadir que, si escribió breves tratados, acuciado por su patriotismo godo, una inmensa mole de obras, en primer lugar las Etimologías, fueron escritas con el entusiasmo de un canto a la Roma cultural’ (‘A los orígenes’, p. 21). 91 Bassett, ‘The Use of History’, pp. 290–292. 92 Benveniste, ‘On the Language’, p. 75; Wood, The Politics of Identity, p. 195. 93 Sent., I, 18, 8. Cfr. Quaest. in Vet. Test.: in librum Iudicum, 9, 7 (PL 83, col. 392). Vid. Drews, The Unknown Neighbour, p. 71; Wood, The Politics of Identity, pp. 199–200. 94 Wood, The Politics of Identity, pp. 203-204.

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primer emperador Augusto (Chronica Maiora, 235-237),95 ni tampoco que, por haberlo rechazado, los judíos tuvieran que padecer innumerables desgracias como resultado del castigo que la Divina Providencia hubo de reservarlos a partir de entonces (Chronica Maiora, 241, 251, 261, 169). La principal fuente utilizada tanto por Orosio como por Isidoro para la descripción de la mayor parte de los castigos sufridos por los judíos a causa de su rechazo de Cristo, fue la Crónica de Eusebio traducida y completada por Jerónimo.96 Ahora bien, la interpretación concedida a la destrucción de Jerusalén y su Templo no fue exactamente la misma en estos dos autores hispanos. Isidoro, como antes que él Jerónimo, no estableció una conexión exclusiva entre esta desgracia padecida por los judíos y la muerte del Cristo, tal y como había resaltado en sus Historias Orosio dos siglos antes. El obispo visigodo no sólo puntualizó que los judíos habían sido castigados por Dios al haber sido encontrados únicos culpables del deicidio, sino además y principalmente por haber rechazado ciega y deliberadamente al Mesías que había sido repetidamente anunciado en las Sagradas Escrituras. La devastación de Jerusalén ordenada por Tito había sido profetizada por Jeremías, Isaías y Daniel como consecuencia primero de la negación del pueblo judío a aceptar el mensaje del Cristo (De fide, I, 5, 5-8; II, 10, 1-4) y después por haberlo conducido sin ninguna piedad a la muerte.97 El ejército romano vuelve a actuar en el pensamiento isidoriano como eficaz instrumento de la voluntad punitiva de Dios.98 Una vez más la ruina del pueblo judío, repudiado por Dios (Quaest. in Vet. Test.: in Genesim, VI, 1-9, PL 83, cols. 223-225),99 servía como argumento a los cristianos para justificar la incorporación de los gentiles a la Historia de la Salvación por medio de una nueva Alianza en sustitución de la antigua ya caducada (De fide, II, 14 y II, 16).100 Imbuido profundamente del pensamiento agustiniano, Isidoro escribió que, a partir de entonces, el triste destino de los judíos, abatidos y dispersos fuera de Israel (De fide, II, 9), y condenados hasta el fin de los tiempos a no ser que aceptaran el bautismo (De fide, II, 24, 12),101 serviría únicamente para probar la verdad cristiana, cuya superioridad 95 Ibid., p. 204. 96 Ibid., pp. 204-205. 97 Isidoro, De fide, I, 5, 8 y 11 (PL 83, col. 462). Jamie Wood, The Politics of Identity, en cambio, tiende a negar que el castigo a los judíos fuese motivado principalmente por el deicidio, acentuando aun más la importancia de la negación judía a aceptar el mensaje de Cristo (p. 205). 98 Isidoro, De fide, II, 10, 3 (PL 83, col. 516). 99 Barcala Muñoz, Biblioteca antijudaica vol. II, p. 369. 100 Ibid., pp. 375–376, 380 y 383. 101 Vid. Castro Caridad y López Silva, ‘San Isidoro de Sevilla y los judíos’, pp. 88–89.

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había sido anunciada y consumada históricamente con el triunfo de la Iglesia universal (Quaest. in Vet. Test.: in Genesim, VIII, 7, PL 83, col. 236).102 Sin embargo, el signo de los tiempos tras la asunción visigoda de la fe católica exigía un nuevo cambio en el progreso de la historia salvíf ica que afectaba a los judíos, una vez más, de manera desfavorable. En este sentido, Isidoro no podía ignorar que la presencia de esta minoría religiosa en el reino visigodo comportaba una anomalía que, si bien apenas podía afectar en el fluir de la historia universal, suponía un obstáculo aun menor para la consumación de la Historia de la Salvación tal y como había sido concebida por la Divina Providencia. De ahí que el papel desempeñado por los judíos tanto en el pasado remoto como en el más reciente careciese para Isidoro de transcendencia alguna, enfatizando únicamente los desastres que, como castigo por sus innumerables pecados, les sobrevinieron a lo largo de la historia. Además, de la misma manera que Dios había intervenido directamente en el pasado para castigar severamente la infidelidad judía por medio de la violenta intervención romana, Isidoro consideraba que el rey Sisebuto había decretado la conversión forzosa de los judíos en su reino siguiendo igualmente los designios divinos. Este dramático acontecimiento histórico, situado en torno al año 616, es recordado por Isidoro al final de las tres versiones de su Chronicon (Chronica Maiora, 416; Chronica Minora, 42), así como en las dos redacciones de su Historia rerum gothorum (60).103 Según Jamie Wood, ‘The Jews suffer at the hands of the emperors and God intervenes to cause their conversion to Christianity. This strand within the work is closely connected to Isidore’s desire to depict Sisebut’s conversion of the Jews as the culmination of his reign and the ultimate achievement of the orthodox Visigothic monarchy’ (p. 207). Algunas décadas después de que desapareciera Isidoro de Sevilla, el pensamiento historiográfico agustiniano, si bien a través del tamiz de Gregorio Magno, encontró renovada fuerza en el reino visigodo gracias a los cinco libros de las Sententiae de Tajón de Zaragoza (muerto ca. 680). Precisamente en el capítulo 40 del primer libro este autor reúne varios pasajes dispersos de los Moralia in Iob (11, 16, 24; 19, 23, 40; 31, 15, 29) y de las Homiliae in Evangelium de Gregorio Magno que recogen los principales temas de la polémica antijudía en relación con la derogación de la Antigua 102 Barcala Muñoz, Biblioteca antijudaica vol. II, pp. 371 y 382. 103 Respecto al significado de este acontecimiento que subyace en la mente de Isidoro, Jamie Wood, afirma que ‘It also provided further proof that the Jews had lost divine favour and that the Nicene Visigothic Kings now played a key providential role in history’ (The Politics of Identity, p. 207).

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Alianza y su sustitución por la Nueva, con el rechazo judío del Cristo y la vocación de los gentiles (cfr. Sent., II, 16).104 Mientras que éstos se convirtieron en los herederos de la revelación divina, los judíos adquirieron la condición de desertores y rebeldes por negarse a reconocer al Cristo aun sabiendo que había sido anunciado en las Escrituras.105 Por ello fueron reprobados por Dios y apartados del seguro camino de la salvación.106 Aunque Tajón no especifica las nefastas consecuencias que para los judíos tal acción criminal habría de provocar, deja claro que, apenas insinuada la intención de incriminar al Cristo, ya reclamaba su inevitable castigo divino: ‘[…] pero ya en el mismo instante de su entrega se comprende que supo que su muerte sería castigada […]’.107 Por la misma época Julián de Toledo (ca. 642-690) se vio obligado a acudir una vez más a la exégesis bíblica aplicada a la comprensión de las edades en que se suponía que estaba dividida la historia universal con el fin de rebatir los nuevos argumentos de tradición talmúdica aducidos por los judíos de su época sobre la imposibilidad por razones cronológicas de que el Cristo pudiera identificarse con el Mesías esperado (De comprobatione, I, 1-6).108 Acudiendo a los textos proféticos del Antiguo Testamento el obispo Julián intenta probar en su obra De comprobatione sextae aetatis (compuesta en el año 686) que la época en que vivían se encontraba ya dentro de la sexta edad del mundo, insistiendo en la idea de que las edades no se articulaban a partir de la suma de los años, como pretendían los judíos, sino a través de la sucesión de las generaciones.109 Ya a mediados del siglo VI Apringio, obispo católico de Beja, ofreció una respuesta combativa a las ideas apocalípticas que circulaban entre los judíos de la época en torno a la supuesta fecha mesiánica del 4328, momento en que éstos creían que se cumplían novecientos noventa años desde la destrucción del primer Templo (como resultado de la suma de las semanas danielinas) y medio milenio desde la destrucción del segundo Templo (año 3828 desde la Creación). El obispo de Beja afrontó esta controversia en su Comentario al Apocalipsis negando las expectativas de los judíos al 104 Barcala Muñoz, Biblioteca antijudaica vol. II, p. 533. 105 Tajón, Sententiae, I, 40 (PL 80, col. 774). 106 Ibid. Vid. Barcala Muñoz, Biblioteca antijudaica vol. II, p. 535. 107 Tajón, Sent., II, 5 (PL 80, col. 780): […] Sed in ipso traditionis tempore tarde jam cognovisse intelligitur, quod illa ejus morte puniretur […]. 108 Blumenkranz, Les auteurs chrétiens, p. 119; Barcala Muñoz, Biblioteca antijudaica vol. II, p. 603. 109 Blumenkranz, Les auteurs chrétiens, p. 121; Campos, ‘El De comprobatione’, pp. 305–306; Del Valle, ‘San Julián’, pp. 124–125; Moreno García y Pozas Garza, ‘Una controversia’, pp. 257–258.

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eliminar del mismo cualquier rasgo de carácter milenarista.110 La citada obra de Julián de Toledo da a entender que en las postrimerías del reino visigodo volvieron a aflorar ciertas expectativas mesiánicas en el interior de las clandestinas comunidades judías hispanas. En este sentido, parece que con su De comprobatione sextae aetatis el obispo toledano, que por la ascendencia judeo-conversa de su familia pudo estar bien informado (ex traduce Iudaeorum, según la Crónica Mozárabe del 754, IV, 38), pretendía dar respuesta a las expectativas difundidas en medios judíos sobre el comienzo de la edad mesiánica en el año 687-688, justo dos mil años después de que Moisés recibiera las Tablas de la Ley en el 2448 de la edad del mundo.111 La atención que prestó al despliegue cronológico de las semanas danielinas bajo el prisma cristológico estaba encaminada a desmentir el cómputo que realizaban los judíos con la intención de negar que se hubiese alcanzado ya la sexta edad en la historia universal y, por tanto, que hubiese llegado el Mesías anunciado.112 Antes bien, supuso una prueba más de las nefastas consecuencias que trajo consigo su obstinada incredulidad y su conducta criminal con respecto a la figura del Cristo.113 Siguiendo la misma línea trazada por la tradición patrística anterior, para Julián de Toledo vanas eran las esperanzas mesiánicas de los judíos si, cumpliéndose lo anunciado por los antiguos profetas, la venida del Mesías ya se había producido. Prueba de ello era que, tal y como se había profetizado (por ejemplo, Salmos, 71 (72), 7, Miqueas, 5, 2ss. e Isaías, 2, 2ss.) había nacido en tiempos de paz, durante el gobierno del emperador Augusto (De comprobatione, I, 7-8).114 Sin embargo, también había sido anunciado que los judíos lo rechazarían y crucificarían (Os 7, 13 y 9, 17; Is 53, 7-9; Jer 5, 10-12), razón por la que sufrirían la reprobación divina así como indecibles castigos. Tras la muerte del Cristo se produciría la destrucción y ruina del pueblo judío (De comprobatione, I, 16). Los romanos actuaron de nuevo como el brazo ejecutor de la venganza divina (De comprobatione, I, 27).115 Dispersos en tierra extraña, sin rey, ni Templo, ni sumo sacerdote, los judíos habían sido perpetuamente condenados a padecer infinitas penalidades.116 Una de ellas precisamente sería su sometimiento al pueblo cristiano (Antikeimena, 110 González Salinero, ‘Apringio de Beja’, p. 414. 111 Vid. García Moreno, ‘Expectativas milenaristas’, p. 109. 112 Blumenkranz, Les auteurs chrétiens, p. 125. 113 Julián de Toledo, De comprobatione, I, 27. Vid. Blumenkranz, Les auteurs chrétiens, p. 123. 114 Blumenkranz, Les auteurs chrétiens, pp. 121–122; Moreno García y Pozas Garza, ‘Una controversia’, pp. 259–260. 115 Del Valle, ‘San Julián’, p. 127. 116 Blumenkranz, Les auteurs chrétiens, p. 122.

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19) que, convertido en Verus Israel, había ocupado su lugar en la Historia de la Salvación.117 Convencido de que el pueblo judío había sido finalmente derrotado por la fuerza de sus argumentos, Julián aseguraba que la única esperanza de salvación para Israel consistía en volver al camino correcto mediante la aceptación de la verdad cristiana y, en consecuencia, la conversión a la fe católica: Viam perdisisti, uiam ergo sequere, ut per uiam uenias ad salutem (De comprobatione, III, 35).118

Conclusiones Tras un prolongado tiempo de incertidumbre una vez producida la esperada venida del Cristo, los designios divinos en favor del credo cristiano parecían ya percibirse con nitidez en época constantiniana. Ahora bien, si el triunfo de la Iglesia constituía la meta anunciada y deseada en la Historia de la Salvación, no quedaba sitio en el mundo para todos aquellos que, como los recalcitrantes judíos, no aceptasen la doctrina cristiana. 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. De ahí que, a partir del uso alegórico de las Escrituras, se construyera un discurso apologético que permitiera reafirmar la identidad religiosa del nuevo pueblo de Israel a partir de la llegada del Cristo. Para ello, era necesario convertir la historia universal, tanto profana como sagrada, en ‘Historia de la Salvación’, sometiendo a toda la humanidad a los dictámenes de la Divina Providencia. En este proceso ideológico resulta imposible, sin embargo, renunciar por completo a la herencia judía, ya que la historia del cristianismo encontraba su propio origen en el Antiguo Testamento. Es a partir de la llegada del Cristo cuando el devenir histórico de la nueva religión, dependiente hasta entonces de la tradición judía, confluye definitivamente con el mundo romano. El pasado remoto descrito en las antiguas Escrituras se transforma ahora en una prefiguración que oculta, a modo de presagio, una realidad regeneradora situada en un futuro inexorable. Era, pues, inevitable que este proceso 117 De comprobatione, I, 17; Antikeimena, 86 (PL 96, cols. 635–636). Vid. Barcala Muñoz, Biblioteca antijudaica vol. II, pp. 602 y 605. 118 Blumenkranz, Les auteurs chrétiens, p. 1276.

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conllevara la apropiación cristiana de todas las promesas bíblicas y el desalojo definitivo de los judíos de la Historia de la Salvación. Los autores hispanos siguieron en este sentido las huellas marcadas por la tradición patrística e incorporaron en sus escritos el mismo despliegue ideológico que, desde los primeros apologistas, posibilitaba una interpretación providencialista del pasado desligada en buena medida del mundo cultural judío. En estrecha vinculación con el poder establecido por voluntad divina, ya fuese éste representado por el Imperio romano (y después cristiano), ya por la monarquía visigoda, la Iglesia emerge en la historia como la única vía de salvación para la humanidad. Tal y como había sido interpretado por la historiografía cristiana anterior, condicionada especialmente por el pensamiento eusebiano y su posterior desarrollo agustiniano, el funesto destino del pueblo judío aparece representado en los autores hispanos como prueba inequívoca de la verdad cristiana que alumbra la última y definitiva edad del mundo. Las desgracias padecidas por los judíos como consecuencia de su ‘infidelidad’ y su ‘carácter criminal’, evidenciado éste en el imperdonable pecado del deicidio, manif iestan históricamente la reprobación divina. Una vez destruida Jesusalén, las aspiraciones judías que, como pueblo primeramente elegido, deberían haberse cumplido, quedaron def initivamente arruinadas. Al perder su independencia política y encontrarse sometido al poder romano, el pueblo judío se convirtió en testigo de cómo la Iglesia, que había asumido como propia la Romanitas recubriéndola con una conveniente pátina cristiana, se había transformado en el Verus Israel. Así pues, Roma, mano ejecutora de los planes divinos, se incorporaba a la Historia de la Salvación en el mismo instante en que los judíos, condenados y humillados, salían de ella.

Obras citadas Barcala Muñoz, Andrés, Biblioteca antijudaica de los escritores eclesiásticos hispanos, vol. I: siglos IV–V (Madrid: Aben Ezra, 2003). Barcala Muñoz, Andrés, Biblioteca antijudaica de los escritores eclesiásticos hispanos, vol. II: VI–VII. El reino visigodo de Toledo (Parte primera. Cuestiones previas; Parte segunda. Autores y textos) (Madrid: Aben Ezra, 2005). Bassett, Paul Merritt, ‘The Use of History in the Chronicon of Isidore de Seville’, History and Theory 15,3 (1976), 278–292. Benko, Stephen, Pagan Rome and the Early Christians (Bloomington–Indianapolis, IN: Indiana University Press, 1984).

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Benveniste, Henriette-Rika, ‘On the Language of Conversion: Visigothic Spain Revisited’, Historein 6 (2006), 72–87. Blumenkranz, Bernhard, Les auteurs chrétiens latins du Moyen Âge sur les juifs et le judaïsme (Paris: Mouton & Co, 1963). Blumenkranz, Bernhard, Il cappello a punta. L’ebreo medievale nello specchio dell’arte cristiana (ed. Ch. Frugoni) (Roma/Bari: Laterza, 2003; orig. Paris, 1966). Bordier, Jean-Pierre, ‘Rome contre Jérusalem. La légende de la Vengeance Jhesucrist’, in Jérusalem, Rome, Constantinople. L’image et le mythe de la ville au Moyen Âge, ed. by D. Poirion (Paris: Presses Paris Sorbonne, 1986), pp. 93–123. Brandon, Samuel George Frederick, History, Time and Deity: A Historical and Comparative Study of the Conception of Time in Religious Though and Practice (Manchester–New York: Manchester University Press–Barnes & Noble, 1965). Brożek, M., ‘Das Historiosophische bei Prudentius’, in Studien zur Geschichte und Philosophie des Altertums, ed by J. Harmatta (Amsterdam: Adolf M. Hakkert, 1968), pp. 204–214. Burrows, Mark S., ‘Christianity in the Roman Forum: Tertullian and the Apologetic Use of History’, Vigiliae Christianae,42 (1988), 209–235. Cacitti, Remo, ‘Subdita Christo servit Roma Deo. Osservazioni sulla teologia politica di Prudenzio’, Aevum 40 (1972), pp. 402–435. Calderone, Salvatore, ‘Storia e teologia in Eusebio di Cesarea’, in Chiesa e Impero. Da Augusto a Giustiniano, ed. by E. Dal Covolo, and R. Uglione (Roma: LAS, 2001), pp. 171–184. Callan, Terrance, Forgetting the Root: The Emergence of Christianity from Judaism (New York–Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1986). Cambronne, Patrice, ‘Métamorphoses de la Terre promise. Le Temple de l’Âme dans la Psychomachia de Prudence’, Revue des Études Anciennes,104,3–4 (2003), 445–474. Campos, Julio, ‘El De comprobatione sextae aetatis libri tres de San Julián de Toledo’, Helmantica 18 (1967), 297–340. Cancik, Hubert, ‘Die Funktion des jüdischen Bibel für die Geschichtschreibung der Christen in der Antike’, in Bibel und Literatur, ed. by J. Ebach, and R. Faber (München: Wilhelm Fink Verlag, 1998), pp. 19–29. Castelli, Enrico, I presupposti di una teologia della storia (Milano: Bocca, 1952). Castro Caridad, Eva, and Xosé A. López Silva, ‘San Isidoro de Sevilla y los judíos. Apología o catequética’, in San Isidoro de Sevilla en Sevilla, ed. by J. Sánchez Herrero (Sevilla: Universidad de Sevilla, 2018), pp. 87–98. Chilton, Bruce D., ‘Christian Reconstruction of Judaism: The Adversus Ioudaios Writings from New Testament until Origen’, in Judaism from Moses to Muhammad: An Interpretation. Turning Points and Focal Points, ed. by J. Neusner, W. Scott Green, and A. Avery-Peck (Leiden–Boston: E. J. Brill, 2005), pp. 81–100.

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Cochrane, Charles Norris, Cristianismo y cultura clásica (trad. J. Carner), Madrid: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 1983; orig. London: Oxford University Press, 1939, 1944 2). Conzelmann, Hans, Gentiles, Jews, Christians. Polemics and Apologetics in the Greco-Roman Era (transl. M. E. Boring) (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1992; orig. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1981). Courcelle, Pierre, ‘Polémica anticristiana y platonismo cristiano. De Arnobio a san Ambrosio’, in El conflicto entre el paganismo y el cristianismo en el siglo IV, ed. by A. Momigliano (transl. M. Hernández Iñiguez) (Madrid: Alianza Universidad, 1989; orig. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1963), pp. 171–206. Croke, Brian, and Alana M. Emmett, ‘Historiography in Late Antiquity: An Overview’, in History and Historians in Late Antiquity, ed. By B. Croke, and A.M. Emmett (Sydney–Oxford: Pergamon Press, 1983), pp. 1–12. De Boer, S., ‘Rome, the Translatio Imperii and the Early-Christian Interpretation of Daniel II and VII’, Rivista di Storia e Letteratura Religiosa 21 (1985), 181–218. De Tejada, Elías Francisco, ‘Los dos primeros filósofos hispanos de la historia. Orosio y Draconcio’, Anuario de Historia del Derecho Español 23 (1953), 191–201. Del Valle Rodríguez, Carlos, ‘San Julián de Toledo’, in La controversia judeocristiana en España (desde los orígenes hasta el siglo XIII). Homenaje a Domingo Muñoz León, ed. by C. del Valle Rodríguez (Madrid: CSIC, 1998), pp. 119–130. Doignon, Jean, ‘La médiation d’Agustin sur la relation de cet événement à la conquête romaine et à la défaite juive’, in Figures du Noveau Testament chez les Pères (Strasbourg: Centre d’Analyse et de documentation Patristiques, 1991), pp. 43–52. Dölger, Franz Joseph, Paganos y cristianos. El debate de la Antigüedad sobre el significado de los símbolos (transl. M. García Vázquez, I. Marro Sánchez, and P. Sabe Andreu) (Madrid: Encuentro, 2013). Drews, Wolfram, The Unknown Neighbour: The Jew in the Thought of Isidore of Seville (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2006). Fabian, Claudia, Dogma und Dichtung. Untersuchungen zu Prudentius’ Apotheosis (Frankfurt am Main, 1988). Farina, Raffaele, L’Impero e l’imperatore cristiano in Eusebio di Cesarea. La prima teologia politica del cristianesimo (Zürich: Pas Verlag, 1966). Fear, Andrew T., Orosius: Seven Books of History against the Pagans (Liverpool: Liverspool University Press, 2010). Forte, Bruno, ‘Dimensione storica della teologia. Per una teologia della Storia’, in Historiam perscrutari. Miscellanea di studi offerti al prof. Ottorino Pasquato, ed. M. Maritano (Roma: LAS, 2002), pp. 91–102. Fuentes del Rosal, María Luisa, Orosio y su tiempo (Madrid: Universidad Complutense, 1990).

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García Moreno, Luis Agustín, ‘Expectativas milenaristas y escatológicas en la España tardoantigua (ss. V–VIII)’, en Spania. Estudis d’Antiguitat Tardana oferts en homenatge al profesor Pere de palol i Salellas (Barcelona: Abadia de Montserrat, 1996), pp. 103–109. Genot-Bismuth, Jacqueline, ‘L’argument de l’Histoire dans la tradition espagnole de polémique judéo-chrétienne d’Isidore de Seville à Isaac Abravanel, et Abraham Zacuto’, in From Iberia to Diaspora: Studies in Sephardic History and Culture, ed. by Y. K. Stillman y N. A. Stillman (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1999), pp. 197–213. Gigon, Olof, La cultura antigua y el cristianismo (transl. M. Carrión Gútiez) (Madrid: Gredos, 1970; orig. Gütersloh: Gerd Mohn, 1966). González Salinero, Raúl, ‘Apringio de Beja y los inimici ecclesiae. Preocupación exegética y realidad social’, Euphrosyne 27 (1999), 407–415. González Salinero, Raúl, El antijudaísmo cristiano occidental (siglos IV y V) (Madrid: Trotta, 2000). González Salinero, Raúl, ‘La idea de Romanitas en el pensamiento histórico-político de Prudencio’, in Toga y daga. Teoría y praxis de la política en Roma, ed. by G. Bravo, and R. González Salinero (Madrid/Salamanca: Signifer, 2010), pp. 349–361. González Salinero, Raúl, Infelix Iudaea. La polémica antijudía en el pensamiento histórico-político de Prudencio (Madrid: CSIC, 2010). González Salinero, Raúl, ‘Preaching and Jews in Late Antique and Visigothic Iberia’, in The Jewish-Christian Encounter in Medieval Preaching, ed. by Jonathan Adams, and Jussi Hanska (New York–London: Routledge, 2015), pp. 23–58. González Salinero, Raúl, ‘A Broken Coexistence: Anti-Jewish Polemics and Religious Clashes in Late Roman Hispania’, in Jews and Christians in Antiquity: A Regional Perspective, ed. by P. Lanfranchi, and J. Verheyden (Leuven: Peeters, 2018a), pp. 267–280. González Salinero, Raúl, ‘Los orígenes de la ideología cristiana. De la desjudaización al antijudaísmo’, Annali di Storia dell’Esegesi 35,2 (2018b), 449–471. Heim, François, La Théologie de la Victoire. De Constantin a Théodose (Paris: Beauchesne, 1992). Hollerich, Michael J., Eusebius of Caesarea’s Commentary on Isaiah. Christian Exegesis in the Age of Constantine (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1999). Horbury, William, ‘Jews and Christians on the Bible: Demarcation and Convergence (325–451)’, en idem, Jews and Christians in Contact and Controversy (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1998), pp. 200–225. Inglebert, Hervé, ‘Les causes de l’existence de l’Empire romain selon les auteurs chrétiens des IIIe–Ve siècles’, Latomus 54,1 (1995), pp. 18–50. Inglebert, Hervé, Les romains chrétiens face a l’histoire de Rome. Histoire, christianisme et romanités en Occident dans l’Antiquité tardive (IIIe–Ve siècles) (Paris: Institut d’Études Augustiniennes, 1996).

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Inglebert, Hervé, Interpretatio Christiana. Les mutations des savoirs (cosmographie, géographie, ethnographie, histoire) dans l’Antiquité Chrétienne (30–630 après J.-C.) (Paris: Institut d’Études Augustiniennes, 2001). Isaac, Jules, ‘Interférence de la théologie et de l’histoire’, Evidences (avril 1956), 37–42. Jaeger, Werner, Cristianismo primitivo y paideia griega (trad. E. C. Frost) (México: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 1965; orig. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1961). Judant, D., Judaïsme et christianisme. Dossier patristique (Paris: Éditions du Cèdre, 1969). Judge, E. A., ‘Christian Innovation and Its Contemporary Observes’, in History and Historians in Late Antiquity, ed.by B. Croke y A. M. Emmett (Sydney–Oxford: Pergamon Press, 1983), pp. 13–29. Kinzig, Wolfram, ‘The Idea of Progress in the Early Church until the Age of Constantine’, in Studia Patristica, XXIV, ed. by E.A. Livingstone (Leuven: Peeters, 1993), pp. 129–134. Lana, Italo, La storiografia latina del IV secolo d. C. (Torino: G. Giappichelli, 1990). Legegang, Fred, ‘Eusebius’ View on Constantine and His Policy’, in Violence in Ancient Christianity: Victims and Perpetrators, ed. by A.C. Geljon, and R. Roukema (Leiden–Boston, MA: E. J. Brill, 2014), pp. 56–75. Lida de Markiel, María Rosa, Jerusalén. El tema literario de su cerco y destrucción por los romanos (Buenos Aires: Universidad de Buenos Aires, 1972). Lieu, Judith M., Christian Identity in the Jewish and Graeco-Roman World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004). Lieu, Judith M., Marcion and the Making of a Heretic: God and Scripture in the Second Century (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2015). Lucrezi, Francesco, Messianismo, Regalità, Impero. Idee religiose e idea imperiale nel mondo romano (Firenze: La Giuntina, 1996). Luneau, Auguste, L’histoire du salut chez les Pères de l’Église. La doctrine des âges du monde (Paris: Beauchesne, 1964). Markus, Robert Austin, ‘Church History and Early Church Historians’, en The Materials, Sources and Methods of Ecclesiastical History: Papers Read at the Twelfth Summer Meeting and the Thirteenth Winter Meeting of the Ecclesiastical History Society, ed. by D. Baker (Oxford: Bassil Blackwell, 1975), pp. 1–17. Mastrangelo, Marc, The Roman Self in the Late Antiquity: Prudentius and the Poetics of the Soul (Baltimore, MD: The John Hopkins University Press, 2008). Mendels, Doron, ‘Christian Memories of Jews between 300–450 CE are not All Anti-Semitic: Law as Memory’, in Doron Mendels, Memory in Jewish, Pagan, and Christian Societies of the Greco-Roman World (London–New York: T & T Clarck, 2004), pp. 114–129.

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Mir, José María, ‘Orosio y los últimos tiempos del Imperio’, Helmantica 29 (1978), 383–397. Milburn, Robert Leslie Pollington, Early Christian Interpretations of History (London: Adam and Charles Black, 1954). Momigliano, Arnaldo, ‘Historiografía pagana y cristiana en el siglo IV’, in El conflicto entre el paganismo y el cristianismo en el siglo IV, ed. by A. Momigliano (transl. M. Hernández Iñiguez) (Madrid: Alianza Universidad, 1989; orig. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1963), pp. 95–115. Moreno García, Abdón, and Raúl Pozas Garza, ‘Una controversia judeo-cristiana del siglo VII. Julián de Toledo’, Helmantica 53 (2002), 249–269. Morgan, Teresa, ‘Eusebius of Caesarea and Christian Historiography’, Athenaeum 93 (2005), 193–208. Neusner, Jacob, ‘The Absoluteness of Christianity and the Uniqueness of Judaism: Why Salvation Is not of the Jews’, Interpretation. A Journal of Bible and Theology 43 (1989), 18–31. Otto, Jennifer, Philo of Alexandria and the Construction of Jewishness in Early Christian Writings (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018). Pavan, Massimiliano, ‘Cristiani, Ebrei e imperatori romani nella storia provvidenzialistica di Orosio’, in Chiesa e società dal secolo IV ai nostri giorni. Studi storici in onore del P. Ilario da Milano (Roma: Herder, 1979), pp. 23–82. Pavan, Massimiliano, ‘Le profezie di Daniel e il destino di Roma negli scrittori latini cristiani dopo Costantino’, in Da Roma alla terza Roma. Documenti e Studi, III. Popoli e spazio romano tra diritto e profezia, ed. by P. Catalano y P. Siniscalco (Napoli: Edizioni Scientifiche Italiane, 1986), pp. 291–308. Pietsch, Christian, ‘Aeternas temptare vias. Zur Romidee im Werk des Prudentius’, Hermes 129,2 (2001), 259–275. Perkins, Pheme, ‘If Jerusalem Stood: The Destruction of Jerusalem and Christian Anti-Judaism’, Biblical Interpretation 8 (2000), 194–204. Poinsotte, Jean-Michel, Juvencus et Israël. La représentation des Juifs dans le premier poème latin chrétien (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1979). Poinsotte, Jean-Michel, ‘Prudence et les Juifs. Un antijudaïsme radical et apaisé’, in Les chretiens face à leurs adversaires dans l’Occident latin au IVe siècle, ed. by Jean-Michel Poinsotte (Rouen: Universitè de Rouen, 2001), pp. 115–126. Puente Ojea, Gonzalo, Ideología e Historia. La formación del cristianismo como fenómeno ideológico (Madrid: Siglo XXI, 1974). Puente Ojea, Gonzalo, Orígenes del credo cristiano. El triunfo de la tergiversación paulina, (Madrid/ Salamanca: Signifer Libros, 2014). Ramos Jurado, Enrique, Joaquín Ritoré Ponce, Antonia Carmona Vázquez, Inmaculada Rodríguez Moreno, Francisco Javier Ortolá Salas, and José María

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About the author Raúl González-Salinero, Ph.D. (1997), University of Salamanca, is a Lecturer in Ancient History at UNED (Madrid). He has been a Visiting Scholar at the Universities of Parma, Sorbonne-Paris IV, Bari Aldo Moro, Cambridge, and Bologna. He specialises in the study of socio-religious conflicts in Late Antiquity and the origins of Christianity.

14. Consideraciones sobre la temporalidad en las Vitae Sanctorum visigóticas Pedro Castillo Maldonado

Abstract This chapter addresses a detailed analysis of the temporality present in the hagiographic literature of Late Antiquite Hispania and specifically in the bio-hagiographies of the Visigoth period, a production that is not very abundant in comparative terms with that of other geographical areas, but of great interest. By means of the same one it is evidenced that these compositions use a certainly historical time frame, common characteristic to all biographical narration, but by means of artifices and a story of topical character they manage to transmit to their readers/ listeners an idealised temporal building and, above all, providentialist, always presided over by the divine intervention and its agents, the holy men, constant protagonists of salvific acts. Keywords: Hispania, Late Antiquity, Visigothic hagiography, biographies, time

Quid est enim tempus? Quis hoc facile breuiterque explicauerit? Aug., Conf. 11,14,17

Temporalidad y narrativa hagiográfica Fruto de la visión rectilínea y teleológica de la historia –de la Historia de Salvación- propia del cristianismo, los seguidores de esta religión tienen una fuerte conciencia de la naturaleza del tiempo, de su continuidad e

Ubric Rabaneda, P. (ed.), Writing History in Late Antique Iberia: Historiography in Theory and Practice from the Fourth to the Seventh Century. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2022 doi 10.5117/9789463729413_ch14

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irreversibilidad.1 Para los cristianos el tiempo siempre hace referencia a una realidad, a algo ya vivido, que se está viviendo o que se espera vivir, todo ello irrepetible y conectado. En consecuencia, pasado, presente y futuro tienen un valor absoluto. De igual forma, antes, ahora y después adquieren un significado relativo o relacional. Así concebido, el tiempo es un elemento esencial, consustancial, a la narrativa cristiana. El subgénero hagiográfico, por más que peculiar, no pude escapar de esta máxima por sus pretensiones de carácter historiográfico.2 Y sin embargo, no cabe ver en estos escritos una perfecta sucesión temporal o cronológica.3 Dentro de las narraciones hagiográficas contamos con dos tipos principales: los relatos martiriales y las biografías de santos. Por lo que se refiere a los relatos martiriales, en concreto a los comprendidos en el Passionarium Hispanicum, el asunto que nos ocupa, aparentemente, no reviste mayor complejidad. A la par que destaca la presencia de la conjunción cum –junto con sus equivalentes y locuciones- con valor temporal, el llamado cum histórico, 4 aparecen dos tiempos claramente definidos: pasado (la propia narración del martirio, habitualmente encabezada por la conjunción igitur) y presente (emplazamiento de las reliquias y celebraciones diversas).5 Es una estructura temporal generalizada, pero que se evidencia especialmente en las pasiones hispánicas de época visigótica.6 Tras fijar con precisión la cronología del martirio, para lo que no dudan en hacer uso de la datación consular o del gobierno de emperadores y praesides provinciales, la mayor parte de nuestras pasiones se inician con una referencia temporal: in diebus illis, in temporibus illis. Este mirar al pasado marca el relato, dirigiendo al lector/oyente a los lejanos Tempora Antiqua, tan distintos de los Tempora Christiana;7 hasta que la narración se corta abruptamente con un presente, para señalar la celebración de la festividad o el lugar reposo de las reliquias. Sin embargo, dicho presente no olvida el pasado: la festividad es una conmemoratio, esto es, una re-actualización del pasado, y las referencias al locus reliquiarum 1 Sobre la cuestión del tiempo en el cristianismo frente a la concepción propia del paganismo, asunto no exento de polémica, véase presentación y útil síntesis de Siniscaldo, ‘Temps’. 2 de Gaiffier, ‘Hagiographie et histoire’; Castillo Maldonado, Cristianos y hagiógrafos, pp. 17–21; Velázquez, La literatura hagiográfica, pp. 36–47. 3 Martín, ‘Verdad histórica’, p. 293, nota al pie 9, con bibliografía. En general, Leroux, Le temps chrétien, especialmente pp. 219–259. 4 Riesco Chueca, Pasionario Hispánico, p. LXIII. 5 Las menciones al futuro son limitadas, siempre de carácter retórico y escatológico. 6 Laguna Mariscal, ‘Estructura formal’; Castillo Maldonado, ‘El pasionario hispánico’. 7 Sobre la receptación de estas narraciones, de Gaiffier, ‘La lecture des actes’ y ‘Sub Datiano Praeside’.

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son en última instancia una afirmación del valor contemporáneo del mártir pretérito en cuestión. En consecuencia, ‘la passio abolía el tiempo’, éste ‘se plegaba como un acordeón’.8 Interesa aquí hacer una aproximación a la Passio sanctorum innumerabilium Caesaragustanorum martyrum (CPL 2068 – BHL 1503-1505, y 1506 en su versión breve),9 pues no han faltado las atribuciones al obispo Braulio de Zaragoza,10 autor de una de las biografías objeto de análisis de este trabajo. En su proemio se fija el lugar de sepultura con la precisión propia –y la formulación- de un epitafio (‘quorum corpora siti sunt ante ecclesiam’). Asimismo, concreta la autoría del martirio, a cargo de Daciano (‘qui passi sunt sud Datieno praeside’), un praeses célebre para los lectores y oyentes visigóticos por protagonizar todo un ciclo épico en las pasiones martiriales hispanas de la época.11 A esto sigue una larga introducción no exenta de pretensiones literarias, alusiva a la necesidad de fijar la tradición oral, como habían hecho los poetas e historiadores paganos con las gestas del pasado. El adverbio ‘nunc’ marca la disposición del narrador a iniciar el relato del martirio propiamente dicho. Según declara, para ello se apoya en una difusa tradición pretérita (‘priscorum temporum’). Contra esta relativa falta de concreción de sus fuentes de información, el tiempo del martirio es fijado con exactitud en la llamada ‘Gran Persecución’, la protagonizada por los dos augustos tetrarcas (‘temporibus Diocletiani et Maximiliani imperatoribus’).12 Naturalmente, el resto de la acción se desarrolla como un relato del pasado. Pero esto cambia cuando el narrador se sitúa en su propio tiempo, el contemporáneo o actual, para señalar los tributos debidos con los mártires –aunque el débito con el himno correspondiente del Peristephanon de Prudencio es evidente-, antes de concluir con la habitual doxología trinitaria. 8 Brown, El culto a los santos, pp. 164–165. 9 Ed. y trad. Riesco Chueca, Pasionario Hispánico, pp. 228–241. 10 Ya dudaron de la paternidad brauliana los editores de las AA.SS., Nov. t. I. Modernamente Linch y Galindo, San Braulio, pp. 279–284, hacen ver que es la única obra de las dudosas o atribuidas a Braulio incluida en su corpus, pero finalmente parecen inclinarse por aceptar la autoría. Se pronuncia en sentido negativo Fábrega, Pasionario Hispánico, pp. 173–-174. Como anónima es recogida en Díaz y Díaz, Index Scriptorum, nº 95. Por motivos estilísticos, niega la autoría brauliana Valcárcel, ‘¿Uno o dos?’, p. 193. Finalmente, no faltan otras atribuciones, por ejemplo señalando a Eugenio II de Toledo como su autor: Palermo, ‘La Passio’. Sin embargo, esta última atribución sólo descansa en la autoría del poema De Basilica Sanctorum Decem et Octo Martyrum (Carm. IX de la ed. de F. Vollmer, MGH AA I.4., pp. 239–240). 11 de Gaiffier, ‘La lecture des actes’; Tovar Paz, ‘Sentido de las Passiones Hispánicas’. 12 No han faltado intentos por precisar a qué decreto se adscriben estos martirios. Sin embargo, dado el carácter legendario de la passio, se trata de un esfuerzo tan poco fructífero como baldío.

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La temporalidad en las vidas de santos visigóticas Centrándonos ya en las biografías visigóticas de santos, todas ellas en prosa, el rey Sisebuto compuso ca. 613 la Vita uel passio s. Desiderii episcopi Viennensis (CPL 1298 – BHL 2148),13 a la manera recargada y oscura que le es característica, pese a sus encendidas y reiteradas declaraciones de humildad y sencillez de estilo. Como el título indica, cuenta la vida y las circunstancias de la muerte de Desiderio –o Didier-, obispo de Viena –Vienne, en la Gallia Narbonensis- de 596/9 a 607.14 Llama la atención un escrito dedicado a un santo foráneo y sin culto alguno en la Península, pero este hecho se explica por la intencionalidad político-diplomática del autor, Sisebuto, esencialmente la denuncia de Teuderico II y su abuela Brunequilda (muertos en 612 y 613, respectivamente), y el acercamiento al triunfante rey merovingio Clotario II (monarca de Neustria desde 584, sumó los reinos de Borgoña y Austrasia tras la muerte de los anteriores).15 Aunque tiene un acentuado carácter historiográfico, como tal bio-hagiografía no prescinde de los tópicos y la estilización propia de estas narraciones –además de estar inspirada, entre múltiples influencias, en la Vita Martini de Sulpicio Severo-. El resultado final es la consiguiente confusión de géneros.16 Imitando a las passiones, presenta una estructura simétrica: exordio, núcleo narrativo (condena del obispo ‒ martirio ‒ hechos posteriores) y epílogo. Así pues, comienza con un exordio en donde, además de reclamar la benevolencia del lector por su pretendido estilo rústico, destaca una invocación a la utilidad de la narración para los presentes y edificación de los futuros (‘pro imitatione praesentium, pro edificatione futurorum’), uno de los fines intrínsecos de la literatura hagiográfica.17 A continuación se desarrolla la biografía –principalmente las virtudes del santo, con una acumulación algo desordenada de episodios- y pasión 13 Ed. Gil, Miscellanea Wisigothica, pp. 53–68 (véase también Martín, ‘Una nouvelle édition’). Trad. Díaz y Díaz, ‘Tres biografías’. 14 Merece la pena señalar sobre este obispo-mártir que en una carta el papa Gregorio Magno le reprochaba sus enseñanza de los clásicos (‘es impío para un obispo mezclar en la misma boca las alabanzas de Júpiter y las alabanzas de Cristo’), en lugar de emplear textos bíblicos. No obstante, tras la vida compuesta por Sisebuto y una gala anónima del siglo VIII, Adón de Vienne (s. IX) escribe otra biografía e inscribe a Desiderio en su Martyrologium. 15 Fontaine, ‘King Sisebut’s’; Martín, ‘Verdad histórica’; Castellanos, La hagiografía visigoda, pp. 251–253, subrayando el aspecto ideológico-político. Velázquez, La literatura hagiográfica, p. 224, suma una finalidad edificante-moralizante. Para las difíciles relaciones precedentes entre ambos reinos, Isla Frez, ‘Las relaciones’. 16 Codoñer, ‘Literatura hispano-latina’, p. 450. 17 Castillo Maldonado, ‘El valor representativo’.

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de su protagonista,18 en un relato del pasado únicamente interrumpido por alguna dramatización y por los excursos del autor, pese a lo reciente de los acontecimientos narrados. Sigue con la túrbida y providencial muerte –Dios mediante- de los perseguidores del obispo, Teuderico y sobre todo Brunequilda, contrapuesta a los inevitables milagros operados por las reliquias de Desiderio, prueba irrefutable de su santidad. En toda esta relación no faltan las indicaciones del tipo antes (‘ante’), mientras (‘dum’) o después (‘post’), que concatenan los hechos. Con ello se consigue una secuencia de causa-efecto.19 Esta causalidad, que responde a exigencias de naturaleza narrativa y a pretensiones historiográficas, es algo buscado conscientemente por el autor, pese a su posterior declaración en sentido adverso (‘maior haec prosecutio occurentibus latiorque causis euasit’). No obstante, es de notar que no alude al tiempo real o cronológico trascurrido entre la detención y muerte del santo, así como entre la misma y la de sus perseguidores, en este caso nada menos que de cinco o seis años, usando de unas licencias propias del relato y la lógica hagiográficas.20 Como indicábamos, cierra la narración un epílogo, que no consiste sino en la habitual doxología propia del género, antes de que el autor se encomiende a Dios, repitiendo así lo ya realizado en el exordio inicial. Las Vitas patrum Emeretensium (CPL 2069 – BHL 2530),21 sin duda la producción hagiográfica hispano-visigótica más célebre, son obra anónima de la primera mitad del siglo VII, de poco después del episcopado de Esteban I (633-638), aunque con una remodelación algo posterior.22 Se advierten pues dos redacciones, con toda probabilidad por obra de sendas manos según pone de manifiesto la doble familia de sus manuscritos.23 Quizá sea la biografía hagiográfica más interesante para el objeto que nos ocupa, no sólo por las particularidades de su composición, sino por el arco temporal en que se desarrolla la narración. Centrada en los hombres santos de Mérida, monjes y obispos, recoge informaciones tanto indirectas de fines del siglo VI como, en menor medida, directas del VII. Su móvil último es presentar 18 Si bien, dada la intencionalidad política de Sisebuto, podemos afirmar que sus verdaderos protagonistas son Teuderico II y, sobre todo, Brunequilda. Sobre la actuación política de éstos, Nelson, ‘La saga de Jezabel’. Para su caracterización hagiográfica, Martín, ‘Caracterización de personajes’. 19 Velázquez, La literatura hagiográfica, p. 215. 20 Martín, ‘Verdad histórica’. 21 Ed. Maya Sánchez, Vitas Sanctorum. Trad. Velázquez, Vidas de los santos. 22 Garvin, The Vitas Sanctorum Patrum Emeretensium, pp. 1–7; Maya Sánchez, Vitas Sanctorum, p. LV. 23 Maya Sánchez, Vitas Sanctorum, pp. XXXI y XLIII–LVIII.

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o reivindicar las excelencias del obispado y la ciudad emeritense, capital de la antigua Dioecesis Hispaniae, frente a la emergente Toledo, capital del Regnum Visighotorum.24 Se estructura en cinco libros u opuscula, que pueden a su vez ser agrupados en dos bloques claramente diferenciados: los tres primeros tienen un nítido carácter legendario, especialmente los dos primeros, dedicados a anécdotas y personajes edificantes; los dos últimos tienen cualidades más historiográf icas, lo que no les resta naturaleza hagiográf ica, pues el hilo conductor es la continua intercesión de la patrona de la ciudad, la mártir Eulalia de Mérida. El resultado final es dispar, afectando también a la temática objeto de nuestro análisis. Según advertiremos, se inicia con los hechos más recientes, propios del siglo VII, mientras que termina con los lejanos del siglo VI. Tal disposición temporal pudiera parecer sorprendente, pero constituye una prueba más de la naturaleza hagiográfica de esta obra: el ‘tiempo interno’ –subjetivo y que responde a una necesidad puramente hagiográfica- se ve reforzado conforme avanza la narración por el ‘tiempo externo’ u objetivable, propiamente histórico.25 Los tres primeros libros –largamente inspirados en las uitae sanctorum compuestas por Gregorio Magno- se desentienden de precisión cronológica alguna, pero en absoluto lo hacen de la noción del tiempo. Al contrario, está más presente de lo que pareciera, ya desde el prólogo. Aquí el redactor se queja de que se concede veracidad a hechos muy remotos, mientras se ponen en duda los portentos más cercanos, los milagros habidos en la época actual (‘odiernis temporibus’). Frente a esto, se presenta como garantía de veracidad el testimonio de los coetáneos. Por tanto, lo narrado debe ser fijado en un momento próximo a la composición de estas biografías, en el siglo VII. Es algo que se repite en el primer libro, dedicado a la visión y muerte del joven Augusto, de todo lo cual da fe expresa el autor como testigo directo o presencial, casi su protagonista: son hechos coetáneos al narrador y por tanto, a su decir, indiscutibles. Aquí se utilizan algunas indicaciones temporales que acentúan el carácter extraordinario de los acontecimientos, como lo repentino (‘repente’) de la enfermedad de Augusto, la rapidez de la actuación del propio narrador (‘dumque hec audidissem’) o la sucesión en las acciones (‘post’). Junto a la proliferación de nombres propios y cargos eclesiásticos, introduce detalles y precisiones que aparentemente son innecesarias, pero que aportan crédito a la narración, como fijar el momento en que se visita al pequeño (‘explicitis uigiliarum sollemniis’), cuándo el muchacho reveló 24 Collins, ‘Mérida and Toledo’. 25 Velázquez, La literatura hagiográfica, pp. 246–248.

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su sueño premonitor (‘abibitoque mox lumine’), o cuándo tuvo lugar su aparición fantasmal llamando a voces a su compañero Quintiliano (‘sequenti uero nocte’). Asimismo, el narrador subraya la actualidad y veracidad del relato aportando informaciones del presente, fácilmente verificables por sus lectores, como las relativas a la basílica de Santa María, que según indica distaba de la ciudad y era conocida popularmente como de santa Quintísina. Pero sin duda lo más interesante es cómo se acrecientan las precisiones temporales en el momento de la muerte: Augusto al poco quiere recibir la penitencia (‘mox’), asegurándose así la salvación, pues la muerte tiene lugar en la tarde (‘iam uesperescente die’), lo que impide darle sepultura ese mismo día, demorándose el entierro hasta el siguiente (‘alio uero die’). Era importante fijar esta sucesión temporal, en una suerte de didascalia penitencial y funeraria. El libro secundo narra el episodio del monje borrachín de Cauliana. La lejanía temporal del milagro (‘ante nos satis plurimos annos’), acentuada por el carácter anónimo de su protagonista, se compensa con la referencia de hombres fiables (entre ellos nada menos que el abad y posteriormente obispo Renovato) y, sobre todo, con las precisiones de orden geográfico. Pero lo más destacable es el contraste entre las reiteradas faltas del monje, lo prolongado de su nefasta actuación (‘per tempororum spatia’), y la rapidez de su conversión (‘protinus’). El valor educativo del tiempo –o su negación-, con sus respectivas duraciones, parece evidente: nunca es tarde para una conversión sincera. Tampoco faltan las precisiones cronológicas en el relato de su muerte (‘ac tribus diebius trothidemque noctibus’, ‘tertio post hec die’) y en el milagro final por el que se descubre su cuerpo incorrupto (‘post quindecin uero aut eo amplius annos’). Esto último produce una sensación de detalle y por tanto vendría a otorgar crédito a lo narrado. El tercer libro trata del abad Nancto, un personaje que ha sido utilizado tradicionalmente por la historiografía para señalar la existencia de colonias comerciales de orientales en Hispania,26 y últimamente para advertir del mundo rural lusitano y su cristianización.27 Abre la narración una referencia temporal: ahora se tratará de acontecimientos discurridos hace muchos años y en concreto durante el reinado de Leovigildo (‘ante multa iam curricula annorum temporibus Leuuigildi Visegotorum regis’). Frente a esta distancia temporal, el narrador aporta informaciones para que pueda reconstruirse con detalle la situación, por ejemplo cuándo Nancto visitaba la iglesia (‘nocturno tempore’). Asimismo, usa constantemente de indicaciones temporales que 26 Así García Moreno, ‘Colonias comerciales’. 27 Por ejemplo, Sastre, Mérida, pp. 174–177.

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sirven para hilar la narración (‘post’, ‘post aliquos dies’, ‘deinde post aliquantos dies’). Finalmente, desde la óptica histórica es interesante la donación de un predio fiscal por parte de Leovigildo, pues desde entonces (‘exide’) servía de manutención para los monjes. El episodio, con su oportuna precisión temporal, viene a certificar una larga e ininterrumpida propiedad monástica sobre este rico predio. Como se ha comentado previamente, en los libros cuarto y quinto se acentúa el carácter historiográfico de la narración, aunque sin detrimento de las reglas y tópicos propios de la hagiografía. El cuarto cuenta con su propio prefacio, donde expone con claridad que su objeto es dar a conocer de manera sencilla las maravillas de los padres santos operadas en el pasado según lo contado por muchos, siguiendo el plan trazado en el prólogo general que encabeza la obra. Nancto, tras una larga estancia en Mérida (‘multo tempore’), es nombrado obispo. Inmediatamente se abre un nuevo tiempo, por contraste con las turbaciones del mandato de su predecesor (‘tempore prodecessoris’). De nuevo se ratifican las propiedades de la iglesia emeritense –inicialmente propiedades personales del obispo- mediante indicaciones temporales: entonces (‘tum’) recibió Nancto la mitad de los bienes de un senador por haber sanado a la esposa de éste, quedando la otra mitad pendiente de la muerte del matrimonio, lo que ocurrió no mucho después (‘post non multo temporis interuallo’). Se abrían así años provechosos para el obispo y tiempos de felicidad (‘felici tempora’) para su pueblo. Pasando a relatar los hechos prodigiosos, un día indeterminado (‘die’) se presentan unos comerciantes extranjeros procedentes de la misma región del obispo, y al día siguiente (‘sequenti die’) le envían al que reconocerá después (‘quumque’) de serle presentado como su sobrino Fidel. De esta forma el narrador construye una sucesión lógica de hechos. La reacción de Nancto es inmediata (‘statim’), y tras ello le instruye día y noche (‘diebus ac noctibus’), hasta que a los pocos años (‘paucorum… annorum’) Fidel está preparado. Frente a esta rapidez, señal o signo de lo extraordinario, Fidel, tras muchos años (‘plurimis annis’) de servir a Nancto y llegado éste ya a una edad muy avanzada, fue nombrado obispo. Se genera de esta forma un periodo intermedio, cuando Fidel actúa como si siguiera siendo un mero diácono de Nancto. Desde esta perspectiva, no sorprende que el narrador use del adverbio ‘interim’. Por el contrario, la narración prosigue con un ‘post’, con el episodio de las murmuraciones contra Fidel por parte del clero. El asunto se solventa cuando el obispo lega su patrimonio a la iglesia emeritense, aunque con ciertas previsiones testamentarias. Relatadas sus virtudes, cabe hacerlo con los prodigios operados. El primero, el derrumbe sin víctimas del atrio de la basílica de Santa Eulalia, se abre con una precisión de carácter cronológico-temporal: el hecho tiene

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lugar en un tiempo sagrado, en el dedicado al Señor (‘domenico die’). No cabe ver en ello un mero adorno literario y menos una exactitud de tipo histórico, sino un artificio que, además de hacerse eco de una cristianización hebdomadaria, responde a una necesidad hagiográfica. La indeterminación se apodera del relato cuando aborda la reconstrucción del edificio por Fidel, ocurrida no mucho después (‘post non multum uero tmporis interuallo’). El siguiente prodigio también tuvo lugar con Fidel en vida. Se trata de varias apariciones suyas en compañía de un coro de ángeles. En la principal de estas apariciones se aportan toda suerte de especificaciones temporales, como la contradicción que suponía que los gallos cantasen al inicio de la noche (‘noctis initio’), y –según es norma hagiográfica- que el hecho prodigioso se produjese con inmediatez (‘subito’). En fin, estos detalles se reproducen también en los capítulos dedicados a la predicción del fallecimiento, actos penitenciales y muerte de Fidel, por ejemplo consignado la hora de maitines y el oficio de laudes. El libro quinto, último de los que componen estas uitae, está dedicado a la azarosa biografía del obispo Masona. Narra las vicisitudes del obispo –con débito en la Vita Desiderii-, sus empresas y milagros. Es la parte de esta obra de mayor espíritu historiográfico y apologético, empezando por su interés por destacar una perfecta –y manifiesta a su decir- successio episcoporum en la sede emeritense (‘scilicet sanctus sancto, pius pio, bonus benigno’). Incluso en un excurso se demuestra esta preocupación por la sucesión ordenada que hace historia, historiografía (‘si hoc per ordinem prosequi uoluerimus, tragediam magis quam istoriam texi uidebitur’). La biografía de Masona se inicia con el origen familiar y la caracterización de su protagonista. Como es usual en los relatos hagiográficos, lo que podemos llamar señas de santidad se subrayan desde la infancia del protagonista. El narrador pasa entonces a hacer unas consideraciones sobre el pasado (‘huius… temporibus’, ‘temporibus eius’, ‘his temporibus’, ‘ea… tempestate’). También se preocupa por ubicar los hechos en la biografía y por la sucesión de los mismos (‘priusquam’, ‘postquam’, ‘deinde’, ‘post’, ‘post aliquos uero dies’, ‘multis curriculis annorum’). No faltan las precisiones temporales, como la que fijaba la procesión del obispo hacia la iglesia en tiempo de Pascua (‘in diem sacratissimum Pasche’), y horas que son muestras de la cristianización del día, como el oficio vespertino (‘uespertinum officium’). Pero las precisiones se multiplican al abordar el enfrentamiento de Masona con el monarca Leovigildo, trasmitiendo la impresión de un perfecto conocimiento de lo acontecido. Así, por ejemplo, cuando Masona se entera de lo decretado por el rey, que tuviera lugar un certamen teológico con el obispo arriano de la ciudad, permanece rezando en la iglesia de Eulalia durante tres días –un triduo- con sus noches (‘tribusque

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diebus tothidemque noctibus’), dirigiéndose al atrio precisamente en el tercer día (‘tertio demum die’); o cuando se encamina a Toledo rápidamente (‘subito’). De propiamente hagiográficas deben ser calificadas algunas de estas indicaciones temporales, como la aparición de Eulalia a Leovigildo, habida en la noche (‘denique nocte’), a la que responde de inmediato el rey (‘ylico’); o la muerte del imprudente y soberbio diácono Eleuterio, a los tres días (‘die tertia’) de ser reprendido, frente a los muchos días que le sobrevive Masona (‘plurimis… diebus’). Como ya se ha observado en otros relatos, la intervención de la divinidad –operada en este caso por manos del muy católico rey Recaredo- se produce sin demora (‘nulla mora’). Finalmente, el narrador se sitúa en el presente, en su propio tiempo, cuando a su decir Cristo opera prodigios en las tumbas de todos estos santos, sanando cada día (‘quottidie’) a quienes allí se dirigen. Braulio de Zaragoza es el autor de la Vita sancti Aemiliani (CPL 1231 ‒ BHL 100).28 Redactada ca. 639-640 a petición de sus hermanos Juan y Fruminiano, obispo de Zaragoza y abad del monasterio fundado por Emiliano respectivamente, está dedicada al segundo según la carta que encabeza esta obra.29 En esta carta introductoria Braulio alude a la veracidad de su narración mediante el recurso a los testimonios de los contemporáneos, concretamente el abad Citonato, los presbíteros Sofronio y Geroncio, y la monja –ya de insigne memoria, es decir, fallecida- Potamia, algo repetido en el cuerpo del relato. Aún más, demanda que su escrito sea leído y fiscalizado por los mencionados presbíteros. En este sentido, el presente sirve como garantía de lo redactado a continuación, de los hechos extraordinarios que centran la narración. Pero la indicación de más interés en esta carta es la consideración que Braulio tiene de Emiliano: es un elegido por Dios para la actualidad (‘nostris temporibus’), en un tiempo que comparten tanto el santo como Braulio y sus hermanos. Contra todo rigor cronológico, el tiempo de Emiliano y de Braulio –y por tanto de sus lectores/oyentes- es el mismo. Al fin y al cabo los acontecimientos del año anterior a cuando escribe (‘anno preterito’), de los que el zaragozano sabe por su hermano y que añade al fin de la biografía como milagros post-mortem, venían a confirmar a Emiliano como un contemporáneo, un coetáneo aún presente (pese a la muerte del santo en el ya lejano año 574, es decir, más de sesenta años antes a la fecha de redacción de la biografía). 28 Ed. y trad. Oroz, ‘Sancti Braulinis’ (reproduce la ed. de Cazzaniga, ‘La Vita di s. Emiliano’). También trad. Ortiz García, ‘San Braulio’. 29 Valcárcel, ‘La Vita Emiliani’; Castellanos, Poder social, pp. 33–35. Sobre Fruminiano, Valcárcel, ‘¿Uno o dos?’.

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La uita propiamente dicha se inicia con una larga exposición, un prefacio cuya intención es la captatio beneuolentiae del lector, y que cuenta tanto el proceso de producción de la obra como justifica el empleo de un estilo rústico o sencillo. Frente a lo que ocurría con las narraciones martiriales, Braulio alude a la veracidad que le exigía la narración de hechos y prodigios acontecidos en un pasado cercano (‘nostri fere temporibus’). De hecho, como ya se ha indicado, esta es la gran novedad de Emiliano: su santidad no es algo de los tiempos tan gloriosos como pretéritos propios de los mártires, sino de los actuales, de los que viven Braulio, sus lectores y oyentes (‘nostri temporibus’). Al respecto, Braulio hace una declaración en donde se muestra muy consciente de su obligación de contar las heroicidades de Emiliano, no sea que el silencio del presente haga dudar de ellas a los hombres del futuro. Finalmente, aunque un santo por definición no tiene pasado y su vida se inicia cuando se une místicamente con la divinidad, Braulio justifica los ancestros ciertamente modestos de su héroe con las extraordinarias virtudes del mismo desde su más tierna infancia. Pero en realidad, como no podía ser de otra forma, la biografía de Emiliano comienza con su conversión, a los veinte años. Con esta edad Emiliano era un pastor que, inducido por un sueño revelador, se inicia en la soledad. No obstante, previamente se forma en la compañía de un monje experimentado, Felices de Bilibio, sin cuyo magisterio no podía iniciar la vida ascética (‘neminem sine maiorum instructione recte’). El episodio ha sido interpretado como demostración de que Emiliano se ajustó a lo prescrito por el concilio VII de Toledo,30 esto es, que nadie se internara en la vida en soledad sin el aprendizaje previo en un monasterio.31 Esto sólo es posible si admitimos que para la fecha de composición de la biografía ya era norma comúnmente admitida lo que a posteriori legisla el mencionado concilio del año 646. En mi opinión, el episodio no debe ligarse con el séptimo concilio toledano, sino con el concilio IV de Toledo (a. 633) que bajo la dirección de Isidoro –de cuyo ascendente espiritual sobre Braulio no cabe dudar- regula las escuelas episcopales.32 En todo caso, muy posiblemente estemos ante una indicación útil al redactor, ya sea con el fin de eliminar cualquier duda sobre el proceder 30 Bango Torviso, Emiliano, p. 15. 31 Concilium VII Toletanum, c. 5: Deinceps autem quiquumque ad hoc sanctum propositum vinere disposuerit, non aliter illis id dabitur adsequi neque ante hoc poterunt adipisci, nisi prius in monasterio constituti, et secundum sanctas monasteriorum regulas plenitus eruditi et dignitatem honestae uitae et notitiae potuerint sanctae promereri doctrinae (ed. Martínez Díez y Rodríguez, La Colección Canónica Hispana V). 32 Concilium IV Toletanum, c. 24: […] ut si qui in clero puberes aut adolescentes existunt, omnes in uno conclaui atrii conmorentur, ut lubricae aetatis annos non in luxuria sed in disciplinis

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ortodoxo del santo y contra toda suerte de tradición ‘anti-emilianense’,33 ya sea como legitimación de la más reciente norma canónica. Tras recibir esta formación, Emiliano emprende la vida monástica en las cercanías de Berceo. Braulio introduce aquí una acción presente, para señalar dónde reposan sus reliquias ahora (‘nunc’), sin duda uno de los intereses que animan esta biografía. En los montes Distercios discurren sus días en soledad durante cuarenta años. Allí desarrolla una vida dedicada a la contemplación y en el más extremo ascetismo, de la que sólo le saca el empeño del obispo Dídimo al obligarle a volver al mundo mediante su ordenación como presbítero. No obstante, mantiene su régimen ascético y el alejamiento de todo mal, aprovechando entonces Braulio para contrastar el proceder del santo con quienes son ordenados en el presente (‘nostri… temporis’). En palabras del autor, Emiliano se muestra semejante a Antonio y Martín, los arquetipos de los monjes, solitario y en comunidad respectivamente. Asimismo, desprecia los bienes materiales en detrimento de la iglesia que dirige, lo que provoca el incidente de ser acusado ante su obispo. Braulio señala a este respecto que la denuncia –sin duda alguna pensando en sus propios tiempos- era un proceder habitual entre, al menos, una parte de los clérigos, la más detestable ‘(mos pessimorum… clericorum’). Se diría que para Braulio todo tiempo pasado fue mejor. Finalmente, abandonando su iglesia se recluye de por vida en lo que ahora (‘nunc’) –información actual aportada por Braulio- es conocido como el oratorio de Emiliano. Concluido el relato de la conversión y demás vicisitudes biográficas, se abre el inevitable capítulo de los prodigia y exempla, relatados en pasado salvo cuando se escenifican determinadas acciones y discursos, además de los habituales excursos del narrador. Es de destacar que, al contrario de la progresiva carrera ascética, los prodigios ocurren de pronto, repentinamente (‘subito’), lo que sin duda enfatiza el carácter milagroso de los mismos. Estamos ante un fenómeno propiamente hagiográfico, un tiempo interno. Sirva de ejemplo un episodio de especial importancia en la biografía, pues ratificaba una venerada reliquia en la época de su composición. Se trata del extraordinario crecimiento de una viga, la misma que a diario (‘cotidianum’) era remedio de enfermos en el presente (‘in praesens’). La precisión cronológica se acrecienta cuando el narrador se dispone a afrontar la muerte del santo, ya centenario y de la que –como no podía ser de otra forma- supo él mismo por revelación divina con antelación. En este ecclesiasticis agant deputari probatissimo seniori, quem et magistrum doctrinae et testem uitae habeant (ed. Martínez Díez y Rodríguez, La Colección Canónica Hispana V). 33 Valcárcel, ‘La Vita Emiliani’, pp. 380–386.

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año y allá por el tiempo de cuaresma (‘eodem igitur anno, quadragesimae diebus’) opera Emiliano su último prodigio en vida, esto es, el anuncio de la destrucción de Cantabria. La predicción se cumple de manos del rey Leovigildo, en el año 574 según Juan de Bíclaro.34 Finalmente el deceso y consiguiente sepelio se desarrolla en dos momentos: la preparación para el tránsito, y ocurrida en ese momento (‘tum’) la muerte, se da sepultura a su cuerpo donde aún permanecía en tiempos contemporáneos, en su oratorio.35 Braulio no deja aquí su narración, sino que se ocupa de los milagros post-mortem. Son milagros muy cercanos y fijados en un tiempo religioso (‘anno… praeterito, …sancti Iuliani martirys festivitas inmineret’),36 propios del presente (‘nostris temporibus’), con precisiones que vienen a dar credibilidad a los sucedidos (por ejemplo, ‘post trium uero horarum spatium’) y que cuentan con el aval de testigos presenciales aún vivos. En suma, como dice Braulio, Emiliano, un nuevo Eliseo, sigue operativo en el presente, en los tiempos más nuevos y actuales (‘nouissimis temporibus nostraque aetate’). Por tanto, los prodigia no eran asunto sólo de tiempos remotos y de lugares extraños, sino también del hoy y de la Hispania visigótica. Estos milagros, tan cercanos, tan cotidianos, son un componente imprescindible del género que sirve como propaganda del santo y del lugar en cuestión, asunto que sin duda fue el móvil último para la redacción de esta biografía. No en balde los dos requisitos para que un culto alcance notoriedad son contar con un locus con reliquias y una narración biográfica eficaz. De lo segundo se encargó Braulio exitosamente, lo que explica que Emiliano sea, junto con el foráneo Martín de Tours, el santo confesor más celebrado en la Hispania visigótica. La última biografía objeto de este trabajo es la Vita Fructuosi (CPL 1293 – BHL 3194),37 tradicionalmente atribuida a Valerio del Bierzo, pero indiscutidamente considerada hoy día como una obra de autor anónimo.38 Escrita ca. 670-680,39 aborda la vida de Fructuoso, un personaje de especial 34 Bicl., Chronicon a. 574. 2: Hic diebus Liuigildus rex Cantabriam ingressus provinciae perversores interfecit, Amaiam ocuppat, opes eorum pervadit et provinciam in suam revocat dicionem (ed. Campos). Véase Quintana López, ‘Amaya’. 35 Sobre la muerte de los santos confesores, Castillo Maldonado, ‘El funus episcoporum’. 36 Para el proceso de cristianización del tiempo y su importancia, Markus, La fine della cristianità, pp. 152–164. 37 Ed. y trad. Díaz y Díaz. 38 Nock, The Vita Sancti Fructuosi, pp. 23–38; Díaz y Diaz, La Vida de San Fructuoso, pp. 15–20. No obstante, una defensa de la atribución tradicional a Valerio en Cardoso y de Pina, S. Valério, pp. 7–8. 39 Ca. 690 según Codoñer, ‘Sobre la Vita Fructuosi’.

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interés histórico por su labor monástica ampliamente consignada en este relato, pero sobre todo por su cercanía con las esferas políticas del Regnum y en concreto con el ‘círculo’ del monarca Sisenando.40 Es, principalmente por sus primeros capítulos, la narración de las aquí comentadas que más respeta la estructura clásica del género biográfico (fundamentalmente plutarquiana: origen familiar, formación, empresas –aquí tanto fundaciones monásticas como milagros diversos- y muerte). Sin ser nuestra intención abordar su compleja composición, que parece fruto de una adición de elementos, 41 sí merece la pena destacar la presencia de al menos dos partes unidas por unos capítulos transicionales. 42 Se inicia la narración con la significativa conjunción ‘postquam’. Implícitamente el redactor establece dos periodos separados por la encarnación de Cristo, ante y postquem, marcando una inflexión en la Historia Universal, un antes y un después: nos encontramos en un tiempo presidido por la nueva religión, y Fructuoso pertenece a este tiempo histórico. En la Historia de Salvación, el primer tiempo es de oscuridad, de tinieblas; el segundo, en palabras del autor, está iluminado por la verdad suprema, la grandeza de la doctrina católica impulsada por la cátedra de Roma, el monaquismo llegado desde Egipto…. y por santos como Fructuoso (y, a su decir, por el Doctor Hispaniae Isidoro, a quien iguala Fructuoso en excelencia, el uno en la vida activa y el otro en la contemplativa). A partir de aquí el pasado se enseñorea del relato biográfico (pese a lo reciente del fallecimiento del santo, ca. 665), salvo en las habituales dramatizaciones y en las digresiones del narrador. No faltan indicaciones temporales de más o menos imprecisión, del tipo entonces (‘tunc’), mientras (‘dum’), algún tiempo (‘aliquanto tempore’), en un momento dado (‘quodam tempore’), en un momento (‘subito’), al momento (‘protoinus’), al instante (‘ilico’), enseguida (‘mox’), ya (‘iam’), después de muchas horas (‘post multa uero orarum spatia’), desde aquel día (‘ab illa die’), después de algunos días (‘post aliquos dies’) y otros, pero sobre todo los ‘relacionales’ tras, luego, posteriormente y después (‘post’, ‘dum’, ‘postmodum’, ‘dehinc’), señalando una sucesión temporal-causal de hechos. El relato del pasado se interrumpe bruscamente, para dar paso a la narración de hechos contemporáneos, no de tiempos pretéritos sino 40 Castellanos, La hagiografía visigoda, pp. 263–273; López Quiroga, ‘Actividad monástica’ y ‘La fundación’. 41 Velázquez, La literatura hagiográfica, pp. 278-289. Un sucinto resumen en Andrés Sanz, ‘Vita Fructuosi’. 42 Muñoz García de Iturrospe, ‘En torno a la Vita Fructuosi’.

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actuales (‘non prisca sed moderna, non uetera sed nouella’). El autor insiste enfáticamente en la veracidad de estos milagros, frente a algunas vanas fabulaciones. Se trata de milagros operados en tiempos muy próximos, de los que da fe de su verdad el presbítero Benenato. Y para reforzar esta sensación de certeza no duda en poner el testimonio de Benenato en un discurso directo (‘Denique iandictus fidelissimus uir retulit dicens: Dum…’), al modo clásico. En la narración de estos prodigios también hay precisiones temporales, aparentemente adornos o curiosidades sin importancia, pero que en realidad son detalles que aportan credibilidad al relato, como el día de la semana y el tiempo atmosférico que hacía (‘domenicus dies… aerum non esset temperies’), la hora (‘ora secunda’), 43 etc. Asimismo, a lo largo de todo el relato el presente se refuerza con menciones expresas de actualidad (‘odierna’, ‘usque hodie’), comúnmente referidas a emplazamientos geotopográficos. No debe extrañar si consideramos que el narrador, sin duda adscrito el ambiente fructuosiano de Dumio-Braga, parece más interesado por las localizaciones que por su biografiado. 44 Como es norma, de forma sobrenatural Fructuoso supo de su muerte con mucha antelación, lo que le llevó a acelerar sin interrupción (‘non solum diurno tempore sine intermissione’) la edif icación del monasterio de Dumio. El momento exacto de la muerte es recogido con total concreción, pues en su condición de dies natalis era un asunto de capital importancia: tras sufrir de f iebre por algunos días (‘per aliquos dies’), el santo permanece postrado frente el altar todo un día con su noche (‘diem et noctis’), hasta que muere poco antes del amanecer (‘ante… lucis crepusculo’). Estamos ante un fallecimiento modélico, propio de un santo. En f in, la obra concluye con lo que sin duda es su objeto último, la propaganda sobre su protagonista para así atraer visitantes a su sepulcro en Montelios. 45

43 Sobre la ordenación de horas en la Regula monachorum de Fructuoso y su liturgia, véase el clásico Férotin, Le Liber Mozarabicus, pp. LVII–LVIII. 44 Codoñer, ‘La literatura’, p. 261. 45 Algunos manuscritos añaden una doxología, precedida en otros por una adición fruto de la vuelta al culto, quizá del siglo IX: Díaz y Díaz, La Vida de San Fructuoso, p. 117, nota al pie 3. Respecto de sus reliquias, fueron trasladadas – robadas pio latrocinio- por el obispo Gelmírez a la catedral de Santiago de Compostela en el año 1102 (Historia Compostellana I.XV.3–5). Defendidas contra las constantes peticiones de Braga e incluso de las disposiciones de Felipe II, sólo una parte volvieron a Braga en 1966, con motivo del XIII centenario de la muerte del santo. Por su parte, la iglesia de San Fructuoso de Montelios se funda en la segunda mitad del VII, pero reedificaciones antiguas (desde el siglo IX hasta comienzos del XII) y modernas impiden advertir la construcción original.

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Conclusiones La religión cristiana es esencialmente histórica, 46 por lo que la noción del tiempo –un fuerte ‘temporalismo’ de tipo histórico- es una constante en sus más variadas expresiones, incluida la literatura hagiográfica y en concreto las biografías de santos. No obstante, como corolario sobre nuestro tema específico de estudio, podemos decir que en las uitae sanctorum visigóticas conviven un tiempo histórico y otro hagiográfico. El primero lleva a precisar la ubicación temporal de lo relatado mediante periodizaciones y cronologías. Es de interés del narrador fijar la temporalidad del relato, incluso respetando –aún con imperfecciones- la estructura per tempora característica del género biográfico. Pero junto a este hacer histórico, con tiempos netamente diferenciados, destaca sobremanera una temporalidad que responde únicamente a los intereses hagiográficos de estas biografías, por ejemplo enfatizando el carácter inmediato de lo prodigioso. Lo que podemos definir como la lógica temporal hagiográfica está determinada por el fin último de la narración, esto es, presentar unas historias –unas personalidades, sus gesta y prodigiasagradas. En este sentido, no se dudará en construir una sucesión que, a pesar de aportar detalles y aparentes precisiones temporales buscando dar credibilidad a la narración, está presidida por cierta indefinición y por tomarse licencias de tipo cronológico, conformando así un ‘tiempo hagiográfico’. Importa al redactor diseñar una línea temporal-causal, estableciendo una cadena de acontecimientos que pareciera estar al servicio de las pretensiones historiográficas de la narración, pero que no es ajena a preocupaciones que nada tienen que ver con la realidad histórica, como, por ejemplo, una finalidad edificante y pedagógica. Asimismo, el presente –con sus testigos- sirve para dar crédito al pasado, del mismo modo que el pasado da legitimidad al presente. De esta forma informaciones actuales se entremezclan con el relato de hechos pretéritos, y la confusión se acrecienta cuando pasado y presente se identifican: ambos son escenarios de lo sobrenatural. El resultado final es que estas narraciones usan de un marco temporal ciertamente histórico, pero mediante artificios y un relato de carácter tópico logran transmitir a sus lectores/oyentes un edificio temporal idealizado y providencialista, siempre presidido por la intervención divina y sus agentes, los hombres santos, protagonistas de actos salvíficos.

46 Aunque paradójicamente sus instituciones, sus iglesias, siempre han defendido verdades ahistóricas.

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Obras citadas AA.SS. Nov. t. I (Paris: Apud Victorem Palmé, 1887), pp. 642–650. Andrés Sanz, María Adelaida, ‘Vita Fructuosi (CPL 1293)’, en La Hispania Visigótica y Mozárabe. Dos épocas en su literatura, ed. Mª. Adelaida Andrés Sanz, Carmen Codoñer Merino, Salvador Iranzo Abellán, José Carlos Martín, David Paniagua Aguilar, C. Codoñer (coord.) (Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca, 2010), pp. 221–224. Bango Torviso, Isidoro G., Emiliano, un santo de la España visigoda, y el arca románica de sus reliquias (Salamanca: Fundación San Millán de la Cogolla, 2007). Brown, Peter, El culto a los santos. Su desarrollo y su función en el cristianismo latino, trad. F.J. Molina de la Torre (Salamanca: Sígueme, 2018). Campos, Julio, Juan de Biclaro. Obispo de Gerona. Su vida y su obra. Introducción, texto crítico y comentarios (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1960). Cardoso, José (transl.), and Ambrósio de Pina (pref.), S. Valério (623–695). Vida de S. Frutuoso Arcebispo de Braga (Braga: Oficina S. José, 21996). Castellanos, Santiago, Poder social, aristocracias y hombre santo en la Hispania Visigoda. La Vita Aemiliani de Braulio de Zaragoza (Logroño: Universidad de a Rioja, 1998). Castellanos, Santiago, La hagiografía visigoda. Dominio social y proyección cultural (Logroño: Fundación San Millán de la Cogolla, 2004). Castillo Maldonado, Pedro, ‘El pasionario hispánico como fuente de los mártires hispanorromanos’, Revista de la Facultad de Humanidades de Jaén 4–5 (1995–1996), 111–123. Castillo Maldonado, Pedro, Cristianos y hagiógrafos. Estudio de las propuestas de excelencia cristiana en la Antigüedad tardía (Madrid: Signifer Libros, 2002). Castillo Maldonado, Pedro, ‘El valor representativo, ejemplar y didáctico de mártires y santos en la Antigüedad Tardía’, in Santos, Obispos y Reliquias. Actas del III Encuentro Internacional Hispana en la Antigüedad Tardía Alcalá de Henares, 13 a 16 de Octubre de 1998 = Acta Antiqua Complutensia 3, ed. by Concha Bosch Jiménez, Luis A. García Moreno, María Elvira Gil Egea, and Margarita Vallejo Girvés (Alcalá de Henares: Universidad de Alcalá, 2003), pp. 147–153. Castillo Maldonado, Pedro, ‘El funus episcoporum y la ‘santificación’ del Obispo’, in El obispo en la Antigüedad Tardía. Homenaje a Ramón Teja, ed. by Silvia Acerbi, Mar Marcos, and Juana Torres (Madrid: Editorial Trotta, 2016), pp. 117–131. Cazzaniga, Ignazio, ‘La Vita di s. Emiliano scritta da Braulione vescovo di Saragozza. Edicione critica’, Bolletino del Comitato per la preparazione della Edizione Nazionale dei Classici Greci e Latini 3 (1954), 7–44.

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Codoñer, Carmen, ‘Literatura hispano-latina tardía’, in Unidad y Pluralidad en el Mundo Antiguo. Actas del VI Congreso de la Sociedad Española de Estudios Clásicos. Sevilla 6–11 de Abril de 1981 vol. I (Madrid: Gredos, 1983), pp. 435–465. Codoñer, Carmen, ‘Sobre la Vita Fructuosi’, in Athlon. Satura grammatica in honorem Francisci R. Adrados vol. II, coord. by Luis Alberto de Cuenca, Elvira Gangutia Elícegui, Alberto Bernabé Pajares, and Javier López Facal (Madrid: Gredos, 1987), pp. 182–190. Codoñer, Carmen, ‘La literatura’, in España Visigoda. La monarquía. La cultura. Las artes = Historia de España Menéndez Pidal vol. III/2 (Madrid: Espasa Calpe, 2 1999), pp. 209–267. Collins, Roger, ‘Mérida and Toledo: 550–585’, in Visigothic Spain: New Approaches, ed. by E. James (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1980), pp. 189–219. Díaz y Díaz, Manuel C., Index Scriptorum Latinorum Medii Aevi Hispanorum (Madrid: Universidad de Salamanca, 1959). Díaz y Díaz, Manuel C., La Vida de San Fructuoso de Braga. Estudio y edición crítica (Braga: Empresa do Diário do Minho, 1974). Díaz y Díaz, Pedro R., ‘Tres biografías latino medievales de San Desiderio de Viena (traducción y notas)’, Fortunatae 5 (1993), 215–252. Fábrega, Antonio, Pasionario Hispánico (Siglos VII–XI). Estudio vol. I (Madrid–Barcelona: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1953). Férotin, Marius, Le Liber Mozarabicus Sacramentorum et les manuscrits mozárabes (Paris: Librairie de Firmin – Didot et Cie, 1912). Fontaine, Jacques, ‘King Sisebut’s Vita Desiderii and the Political Function of Visigothic Hagiography’, in Visigothic Spain: New Approaches, ed. by E. James (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1980), pp. 93–129. Gaiffier, Baudouin de, ‘La lecture des actes des martyrs dans la prière liturgique en Occident. A propos du Passionnaire Hispanique’, Analecta Bollandiana 72 (1954), pp. 132–166. Gaiffier, Baudouin de, ‘Sub Datiano Praeside. Étude de quelques passions espagnoles’, Analecta Bollandiana 72 (1954), 378–396. Gaiffier, Baudouin de, ‘Hagiographie et histoire’, in La storiografia altomedievale vol. I = Settimane di Studio del centro Italiano di Studio sull’Alto Medioevo 17 (Spoleto: Presso la Sede del Centro, 1970), pp. 139–166. García Moreno, Luis A., ‘Colonias comerciales orientales en la Península Ibérica. S. V–VII’, Habis 3 (1972), 127–154. Garvin, Joseph N., The Vitas Sanctorum Patrum Emeretensium (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1946). Gil, Juan, Miscellanea Wisigothica (Sevilla: Universidad de Sevilla, 1972). Isla Frez, Amancio, ‘Las relaciones entre el reino visigodo y los reyes merovingios a fines del siglo VI’, En la España Medieval 13 (1990), 11–32.

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Laguna Mariscal, Gabriel, ‘Estructura formal de las Passiones Hispanas sub Datiano praeside’, in Héroes, semidioses y daimones, Primer encuentro-coloquio de ARYS Jarandilla de la Vera. Diciembre 1989, ed. by Jaime Alvar, Carmen Blánquez Pérez, and Carlos G. Wagner (Madrid: Ediciones Clásicas, 1992), pp. 373–381. Leroux, Jean-Marie, actes du colloque publiés sous la responsabilité de, Le temps chrétien de la fin de l’Antiquité au Moyen Âge IIIe–XIIIe. Paris 9–12 mars 1981 = Colloques Internationaux du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique 604 (Paris: Éditions du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1984). Linch, Charles y Galindo, Pascual, San Braulio. Obispo de Zaragoza (631–651) (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1950). López Quiroga, Jorge, ‘Actividad monástica y acción política en Fructuoso de Braga’, Hispania Sacra 109 (2002), 7–22. López Quiroga, Jorge, ‘La fundación del monasterio Novo en Gaditanam insulam: vocación monástica y política en Fructuoso de Braga’, in Historia Antigua. Actas del III Congreso de Historia de Andalucía. Córdoba, 2001 (Córdoba: Publicaciones Obra Social y Cultural Cajasur, 2003), pp. 283–196. Markus, Robert A., La fine della cristianità antica, trad. C. Noce (Roma: Borla, 1996). Martín, José C., ‘Caracterización de personajes y tópicos de género hagiográfico en la Vita Desiderii de Sisebuto’, Helmantica 48 (1997), 127–131. Martín, José C., ‘Verdad histórica y verdad hagiográfica en la Vita Desiderii de Sisebuto’, Habis 29 (1998), 291–301. Martín, José C., ‘Una nouvelle édition critique de la Vita Desiderii de Sisebut, accompagnée de quelques réflexions concernat la date des Sententiae et du De uiris illustribus d’Isidore de Seville’, Hagiographica 7 (2000), 127–180. Martínez Díez, Gonzalo y Rodríguez, Félix, La Colección Canónica Hispana V. Concilios Hispanos. Segunda parte (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1992). Maya Sánchez, Antonio, Vitas Sanctorum Patrum Emeretensium = CCSL 116 (Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 1992). Muñoz García de Iturrospe, María Teresa, ‘En torno a la Vita Fructuosi (9–10)’, Helmantica 48 (1997), 135–151. Nelson, Janet L., ‘La saga de Jezabel. La carrera política de las reinas Brunequilda y Batilde en la Francia merovingia’, in La Edad Media a debate, ed. by Lester K. Little, and Barbara H. Rosenwein (Madrid: Akal, 2003), pp. 346–396. Nock, Frances C., The Vita Sancti Fructuosi, Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America, 1946). Oroz, José, ‘Sancti Braulinis Caesaragustani Episcopi. Vita Santi Aemiliani. Hymnus in festo Sancti Aemiliani abbatis’, Perfecit 119–120 (1978), 165–227. Ortiz García, Paloma, ‘San Braulio, la Vida de San Millán y la Hispania Visigoda del siglo VII’, Hispania Sacra 45 (1993), 459–486.

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Palermo, Giovanni, ‘La Passio ss. Martyrum innumerabilium Caesaragustanorum’, Orpheus 24–25 (1977–1978), 67–101. Quintana López, Javier, ‘Amaya, ¿capital de Cantabria?’, in Los cántabros en la Antigüedad. La Historia frente al Mito, coord. by José Ramón Aja Sánchez, Miguel Cisneros Cunchillos, and José Luis Ramírez Sádaba (Santander: Universidad de Cantabria, 2008), pp. 229–264. Riesco Chueca, Pilar, Pasionario Hispánico (Introducción, Edición Crítica y Traducción) (Sevilla: Universidad de Sevilla, 1995). Sastre, Isaac, Mérida capital cristiana de Roma a Al-Andalus = Cuadernos Emeritenses 41 (Mérida: Museo Nacional de Arte Romano, 2015). Siniscaldo, Paolo, ‘Temps’, in Dictionnaire Encyclopédique du Christianisme Ancien t. II, dir. A. Di Beradino, adap. fr. F. Vial (Paris: Cerf, 1990), pp. 2383–2384. Tovar Paz, Francisco J., ‘Sentido de las Passiones Hispánicas sub Datiano preside’, in Héroes, semidioses y daimones, Primer encuentro-coloquio de ARYS Jarandilla de la Vera. Diciembre 1989, ed. by Jaime Alvar, Carmen Blánquez Pérez, and Carlos G. Wagner (Madrid: Ediciones Clásicas, 1992), pp. 433–461. Valcárcel, Vitalino, ‘¿Uno o dos Fruminiano en Vita Emiliani y cartas de Braulio de Zaragoza’, Flaventia 12–13 (1990–1991), 367–371. Valcárcel, Vitalino, ‘Hagiografía hispanolatina visigótica y medieval’, in Actas I Congreso Nacional de Latín Medieval (León, 1–4 diciembre 1993), ed. by M. Pérez González (León: Universidad de León, 1995), pp. 191–209. Valcárcel, Vitalino, ‘La Vita Emiliani de Braulio de Zaragoza: El autor, la cronología y los motivos para su redacción’, Helmantica 147 (1997), 375–407. Velázquez, Isabel, La literatura hagiográfica. Presupuestos básicos y aproximación a sus manifestaciones en la Hispania visigoda (Burgos: Fundación Instituto Castellano y Leonés de la Lengua, 2007). Velázquez, Isabel, Vidas de los santos Padres de Mérida (Madrid: Editorial Trotta, 2008).

About the author Pedro Castillo Maldonado is Professor of Ancient History at the University of Jaén. A specialist in Late Antiquity, he has published several monographs and studies on the cultural dynamics of the Iberian Peninsula in the Visigoth period, focusing on the hagiographic production and the church of this period.

15. The Image of Leovigild as Arian Monarch in the ‘Vitas Patrum Emeritensium’:1 From Historical Reality to Hagiographical Deformation Silvia Acerbi and Ramón Teja Abstract This chapter presents a reinterpretation of the confrontation between Bishop Masona and King Leovigild narrated in the Vitas Patrum Emeritensium. Trying to elucidate what historical truth there may be behind this hagiographic text, this event is compared with the information we have through other sources and more recent historiography. The image offered by this work of a persecuting Leovigild and of Masona, as a victim of that persecution is presented as a continuation of the martyr literature based on the opposition of the Christian ‘martyr’ to the tyrannical emperor and ‘persecutor’. In this way, Leovigild, far from being the evil king portrayed in the Lives, appears as a monarch whose religious policy was characterised by tolerance. Keywords: martyr, persecutor, Arianism, history, hagiography, Vitas Patrum Emeritensium

Pedro Castillo Maldonado began his essay on ‘Catholics and Arians in Visigothic Spain: The Conformation of a Unified System of Domination’ by referring to the historical painting by José Martí y Monsó, found in the Spanish Senate, which praises Reccared’s conversion to Nicene Catholicism in 589: ‘Due to its iconographic imagery, which was a bit outmoded, quite static and of dubious artistic quality, the spectator gets the impression 1

This is the title that appears in every manuscript.

Ubric Rabaneda, P. (ed.), Writing History in Late Antique Iberia: Historiography in Theory and Practice from the Fourth to the Seventh Century. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2022 doi 10.5117/9789463729413_ch15

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of watching a historical event, the Third Council of Toledo, solemn and peaceful’.2 We prefer to remember the work by Antonio Muñoz Degrain on the same subject, also commissioned by the Senate in 1888, and, thanks to its success, according to Tomás Pérez Veo, became the ‘true’ image of the historical event, even displacing that of Martí y Monsó, the traditional painting until that time. However, as Pérez Viejo himself recalls, ‘Reccared’s presence in the symbolic buildings of the State, temples of the nation, was not limited to the Senate. The Visigothic monarch is among those who appear on the decorated ceiling of the sessions hall of the Congress (work of Carlos Luis de Ribera), in the company of – to make the reasons for his presence clear – Saint Isidore of Seville’.3 Somehow, each of them tried to illustrate the idea of the official historian of the period, Modesto Lafuente, considered to be the most important figure of the liberal and conservative Spanish historiography. According to his conception, Visigoths were the founders of the Spanish nation: ‘the ones who founded a nation in Spain, the ones who declared State religion the same as that which persists today, the ones who gave people laws that are still in force […] the ones, finally, that bequeathed Spanish kings their most glorious title, and from whose ancestry the highest level of Spanish aristocracy comes, and whose blood perhaps still runs through the veins of today’s Spaniards’. 4 Apart from romantic ideologies that have already been surpassed, the most recent historiography has endeavoured to demystify the meaning of Reccared’s conversion in 589, which is depicted in these works of art and in historical interpretations such as those alluded to. In the quoted article, P. Castillo himself states that, despite the consensus omnium being transmitted from the exact time it was held, the Third Council of Toledo was not a simple event without any resistance, although, in his address to the Toledo assembly, Reccared described the joy produced by his conversion to Catholicism as generaliter. It was a question of forgetting the wounds of the past, as well as leaving the opponents of Reccared aside who, for the sake of the rest, had fallen in disgrace […]All kinds of dissent are eliminated in the necessarily arduous birth of the Catholic confessional kingdom that originated in the Third Council of Toledo.5 2 Castillo, ‘Católicos y arrianos’, p. 51. 3 Pérez Vejo, España Imaginada, p. 75 4 Lafuente, Historia general de España, II, p. 37. 5 Castillo, ‘Católicos y arrianos’, pp. 51–52.

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For his part, Pablo C. Díaz Martínez also insisted on the need for this same demystification. After highlighting the fact that ‘Reccared took three years to communicate the results of the Council to Pope Gregorius, probably because of his dissatisfaction with the final result’, Díaz Martínez added that, ‘the years following the Council of 589 show to what extent Toledo III was – from the point of view of conciliar normalisation – a failure’.6 This assessment contrasts with that offered at the time by the chronicler John of Biclaro, who compared the Council of Toledo with those of Nicaea and Constantinople, thus conveying the idea that Reccared had surpassed the great Christian emperors Constantine and Theodosius in merit.7 The exaltation and mythification of the figure of Reccared as a protagonist in the Council of Toledo and the main person responsible for Hispania’s conversion to Catholicism resulted from him being contrasted with the tyrant king and persecutor of the Catholic bishops – his father Leovigild – and his own brother Hermenegild. It must be acknowledged, however, that Hermenegild was canonised centuries later thanks to the great influence that Philip II had in the Vatican Curia with the intention of ‘sanctifying’ the Spanish monarchy, a fact that was ratified a century later with the canonisation of Ferdinand III, the holy king par excellence in Spanish collective memory. On the other hand, Reccared has not enjoyed the privilege of an officially recognised sanctity. If Hermenegild has gone down in history as a Catholic saint and martyr, a victim of the persecution and tyranny of his Arian father Leovigild, this has been due to the historical manipulation offered by some of the main contemporary sources referring to this monarch. This image of a Leovigild persecuting Catholic bishops and causing the death of his son for exclusively religious reasons has undergone an important revision in recent historiography since it does not fit with historical reality. Our aim in these pages is not to recall the sequence of the historic events but to contribute to this revision of the image of Leovigild as a ‘persecuting king’ based on the analysis and reassessment of one of the most significant sources at our disposal, the Vitas Patrum Emeritensium (hereafter, VPE). As a hagiographic text, the image that this work offers of a persecuting Leovigild and of the Bishop of Merida, Masona, as a victim of that persecution, is presented to us as a continuation of the martyr literature of the Roman era based on the opposition of the Christian ‘martyr’ to the tyrannical emperor and ‘persecutor’. Although Isabel Velázquez has

6 Díaz Martínez, ‘Concilios y obispos’, p. 1114. 7 On this topic, see Velázquez, La literatura hagiográfica, p. 200.

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written that ‘the author is a hagiographer with the call of a historian’,8 Roger Collins has openly expressed a scepticism that we share because it is a hagiographical text: I confess that I am reluctant to use a work of hagiography, a sophisticated literary genre with its own rules and conventions, merely as a quarry for useful circumstantial information. This is especially true of a work as basically peculiar as the Vitas Patrum. It is very difficult to define the precise hagiographical form of the work, the purpose of its writing and its intended audience, particularly as our author delights in contradicting his own stated intentions.9

Before entering into the re-reading of the text of the VPE we must place the relationship between Masona and Leovigild in its historical context. Since their settlement in the south of Gaul and the Iberian Peninsula, there were no major problems with the Arian Goths and the Hispano-Roman Nicene population coexisting. This state of affairs changed radically with the reign of Leovigild (568–586). The process has been summed up well by Pedro Castillo: ‘After many years of coexistence between religions that we could call reasonable – which does not exclude some religious tensions and occasional conflicts – the religious question became evident after the rebellion of his son Hermenegild and specifically with his conversion’.10 Later he adds: ‘the religious tolerance was something usual in Hispania, as the words of the legate Agila before Gregory of Tours shows’.11 The starting point of the new 8 Velázquez, Vidas de los santos padres de Mérida, p. 11; the translation is based on the critical text of A. Maya, Vitas sanctorum patrum Emeritensium; on the hagiographical literature of the Visigoth period, see, among other works, Velazquéz monograph, La literatura hagiográfica; Castellanos, La Hagiografía visigoda.; On VPE, see Codoñer, ‘La literatura hispanolatina’, pp. 436–441 and 452–459. 9 Collins, ‘Mérida and Toledo’, especially I, 192. Among the vast bibliography on the historical value of the hagiographical literature, see Monaci Castagano, L´agiografía cristiana, pp. 121–244. 10 Castillo, ‘Católicos y arrianos’, p. 53. 11 Ibid., p. 56; the author alludes to the text of Gregory in Hist. Franc. V, 43 where the encounter between the Gallic bishop and Leovigild’s ambassador is told; the ambassador addresses him with words that show a clear tolerant stance: ‘Do not blaspheme against a faith that you do not practice, that we, although we do not believe in things you believe, do not blaspheme against them because it is not considered a crime if this or that is practiced. Thus, in fact, it is a common saying among us to say that it does not hurt if someone passes between the altars of pagans and the church of God and worships both’; we follow the translation of Herrera, Gregorio de Tours. The notice furnished by VPE III, 4,5 about Nanctus, an abbot from Africa, who settled in Lusitania with the support of the king (quamvis non rectae fidei) who was attracted by his fame of sanctity has been also interpreted as proof of Leovigild’s tolerance.

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state of affairs was Leovigild’s well-known policy of imitatio imperii,12 which caused alarm between Nicene Catholics, as it aspired to unify the kingdom not only politically, but also religiously. Its most important consequence was the religious character attributed in some contemporary sources to the rebellion of his son Hermenegild.13 According to the chronicler John of Biclaro a year after the conflict with Hermenegild began, Leovigild gathered a council of Arian bishops in Toledo in 580, which meant introducing an ideological element that could only attract support for the rebel into the political-dynastic conflict.14 However, in return and to counteract it, the council adopted a series of measures that were acceptable to the Nicene Catholics, such as the elimination of the psychological barrier implied by the need to rename the Nicene converts to Arianism. The baptism was substituted by communion and the laying on of hands, with which the Arian Church equalled itself with the Catholics who only demanded the laying on of hands and anointing by the bishop.15 In addition, Leovigild presented his proposal giving it the adjective ‘Catholic’ with the aim of delegitimising the identification of the Nicene-Calcedonian orthodoxy as ‘Roman’, that is to say ‘Imperial’ – the same appellation that was used to disqualify the Byzantine troops settled in the South and East of the Peninsula. Thus, he intended to capitalise on the differences between the Hispanic churches and the religious guidelines the Church of Byzantium, which was clearly in conflict with the Pope of Rome. Finally, the theological formula approved by the Council tried to dilute the borders between Catholics and Arians because it recognised the coeternity and equality of the Son with the Father while only rejecting that of the Holy Spirit; the official approved formula repeated the old Catholic formulation of gloria Patri per Filium in Spiritu Sancto. With his reforms, Leovigild pursued religious unification, overcoming the conception of Arianism as fides gothica as well as the abandonment of ethnic-religious differences in favour of a unitary state. His attitude of respect for the sacred places of the Hispano-Romans, whom he also tried 12 On the topic, see Valverde, Ideología, especially pp. 179–195; see also the different studies of Reydellet, especially ‘La concepción’, pp. 457–456. 13 See García Moreno, Leovigildo, pp. 92–95; on the supposed Orthodox Nicene character with which Hermenegild appeared in the territories under his rule, see Godoy and Vilella, ‘De la Fides Gothica’, particularly pp. 130–131. It is discussed today whether the person actually responsible for Hermenegild’s death was Leovigild or Reccared, see among others Salvador, Hispania meridional, pp. 54–55. 14 John of Biclaro, Chron. a. 580. 2., ed. Campos, p. 90. 15 Isidore of Seville, De eccles. off. II, 25, 9.

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to win over due to his religious policy, should be interpreted along the same lines. The results were evident. Seduced by the policy of conciliation that this kind of ‘neo-Arianism’ represented, or simply by the proximity to power, many less intransigent Catholic bishops were willing to collaborate; John of Biclaro speaks of the fact that ‘many’ were ‘ours’, that is to say, the Nicene-Calcedonian clerics, who moved to the new ‘Catholic’ church, although in reality we only know the case of Vincent of Zaragoza 16 and perhaps that of Nepopis of Mérida, of whom we will speak later. The king also tried to win over the popular piety of the Hispano-Romans through the control of the most popular martyr sanctuaries because they provided prestige and protection that the bishops knew how to capitalise on for their benefit: he was successful in the case of the sanctuary of Saint Vincent martyr of Zaragoza but, as we shall see, not in the case of the sanctuary of Saint Eulalia of Merida. The failure of Merida would have been due to the radical opposition of its bishop Masona (d.650), whose confrontation with the king constitutes the most important part of the VPE. This confrontation between the Bishop of Merida and the King of Toledo represents the best-known episode of the coexistence problems between Arians and Catholics in Visigothic Hispania during the reign of Leovigild. However, being a hagiographical source that uses all the clichés of this literary genre, we must apply internal criticism to discern the elements deserving historical credibility, despite the reluctance expressed by R. Collins, even though he also uses it as a historical source. As a hagiographic text, in the image it offers of Leovigild and Masona, this work is presented to us, as we pointed out earlier, as a continuation of Roman martyr literature based on the opposition of the Christian ‘martyr’ to the tyrannical emperor and ‘persecutor’.17 We will now relook at the text to analyse the credibility that the VPE deserves when it presents the facts as the ‘valiant combat’ of the bishop for the control of public spaces of the Christian Merida against the Arian monarch and persecutor. We will also deal with the portraits that this work presents of the main internal rivals of Masona in this ‘valiant combat’: the Arian bishop Sunna and the Catholic Nepopis. 16 John of Biclaro, Chron. a. 580.2, ed. Campos, p. 90; see also Isidore of Seville, De Viris Illus. XXX, ed. Codoñer, p. 151. 17 The author’s dependence on the Dialogues of Gregory the Great has also been underlined. Thus, see Chaparro, ‘Significado’, p. 345: ‘the anonymous author of the Vitas belongs to the first generation of readers of the Gregorian Dialogi and it is clearly influenced by this important Pope […]’.

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As a starting point it should be noted that Merida had supported the rebellion of Hermenegild against his father and that it was following the recovery of the city in 582 when Leovigild tried to attract Masona to his side to apply his political-religious praxis to the major capital. Although Masona’s opposition is described by the hagiographer with the traits of a martyrdom, the reality is that the king must have acted with the moderation that characterised all his religious policy. A policy based on the agreements of the council of 580, but that the author of the Vitas describes as ‘superstition’. The description of Leovigild’s intervention reproduces all the commonplaces of the martyrdom narrations as victims of the atrocious tyrants that would have been the Roman emperors: When he saw (Leovigild) who failed in his vain attempt, furious, he began to torment him with terrifying things, believing that he could threaten with threats the one whom he had not been able to win with flattery. But the holy man was neither broken by terrors nor was he persuaded by flattery, but fighting in courageous combat against the most atrocious tyrant, resisted undefeated in defence of justice.18

We are told that in the face of Masona’s refusal to comply with Leovigild’s policy, the king appointed an Arian bishop named Sunna to the city: ‘He established him as bishop of the Arian faction in the same city with the intention of provoking fierce seditions and disturbing the most holy man and all the people’.19 Two aspects of this passage deserve to be commented on because they show the historical manipulation offered by the text: the appointment by the king of an Arian bishop can be taken as proof of the ‘tolerant’ policy that had prevailed in the kingdom until then, since he had not systematically duplicated the presence of bishops in the main cities, unlike what had happened in other kingdoms such as the Italy of Theodoric. The second, even more significant, aspect is that the author of the VPE 18 VPE IV,7. We follow Isábel Velázquez’s translation, Vidas, cit.; the image of the tyrannical emperor against the Christian princeps emerged in the Christian literature at the time of persecutions and taken to its ultimate consequences by authors such as Lactantius in his De mortibus persecuturum that became commonplace in later historiography and especially in the Hispanic one of the Visigothic era, even in non-martyrial subjects. Thus regarding Historia Wambae regis of Julian of Toledo, I. Velázquez has written: ‘In the work the king always appears as the legitimate king, the princeps religiosus, characterised with all the virtues, especially the Christian ones, he is pius, sacratissimus, excellentissimus. He contrasts strongly with the characterisation of the enemy, absolute evil: pestifers, pestilens, virulens, vipereus; its characteristic is the perfidy […]’, La literatura hagiográfica, p. 205. 19 VPE V, 2.

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describes the new Arian bishop as having the darkest traits, resorting in this case to the literary clichés typical of anti-Heretic literature. Not only is his abominable and execrable condition from the moral point of view underlined, but also from the physical point of view, which proves that we are in front of a literary topos that offers little historical credibility: a man in favour of the perverse dogma, a fatal man with a very repugnant appearance, a frown, atrocious eyes, a hateful gaze, a terrifying gait. He was sinister of mind, of depraved customs, of mendacious language, of obscene vocabulary, outwardly conceited, inwardly empty, outwardly arrogant, inwardly insignificant, outwardly filled up, inwardly empty of all kinds of virtues, deformed on both sides, devoid of goodness, rich in evil, guilty of crimes and voluntary candidate for perpetual death.20

After the appointment of the Arian bishop Sunna, there were struggles for control of churches and some of the most representative places of the city. We are firstly told that when the Arian Sunna enters the city, ‘he usurps, by royal order, some basilicas, together with all their privileges’.21 This fact seems to further proof that there was not an Arian community in Merida that had its own place of worship before these events. In addition, this must be contrasted with the information that Masona – in spite of the supposed pressures of a tyrannical king and persecutor like Leovigild – managed to keep the two most important sanctuaries of the city that the author describes as ‘treasures’ under control: ‘the sanctuary of Saint Eulalia’ and ‘the oldest church, which is called Jerusalem’, that is to say the one that was used as a cathedral under the invocation of Saint Mary. It is important that both Leovigild and his political representatives in the city, including the Arian bishop, do not resort to force and violence to occupy the most significant temples as an instrument to implement the new faith. The anonymous author underlines the fact that, by failing to occupy the church of Saint Mary, they focused their efforts on controlling the basilica of Saint Eulalia, no doubt because of its enormous significance for popular devotion: ‘trusting in royal favour, he tried to occupy the basilica of the most Holy Virgin Eulalia by all means […] to consecrate it to Arian heresy’.22 It is interesting that the hagiographer reports that the king then devised what can be described a peaceful and non-violent formula: both bishops 20 Ibid., 3. 21 Ibid., 4. 22 Ibid., 7.

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would maintain a public debate defending each one their reasons ‘and the party that triumphed claimed the church of Saint Eulalia as a prize for themselves’.23 This supposed public debate between the two contenders and, even less so, the fact that the king himself was responsible for the proposal merit little historical credibility; it is commonplace in ancient Christian literature, a simple repetition of the classic debates between orthodox and heretics, Christians and Jews, or Christians and Pagans. Gregory of Tours himself says – which is without doubt also a hagiographical invention – that before his conversion Reccared had convened a debate between Catholic bishops and Arians to decide the true faith: at that time in Hispania, King Reccared, touched by the mercy of God, summoned the bishops of his religion (the Arians) and told them: Why between you and the prelates who called themselves Catholics a dispute is spreading without ceasing, and while they work many miracles thanks to their faith, you cannot do anything similar? I ask you therefore to meet together and, after discussing the creeds of both parties, let us know what the truth is, and then either they accept that you are right and believe what you say, or recognise that they have the truth and believe what the preach.24

Naturally, the victory fell to the Catholic bishops and this explains the later conversion of Reccared. One can also recall the debate between the bishop and the Manichean Julia at the end of the fourth century – told in the Vita of Porphyry of Gaza.25 A literary topos that appears in both cases is the notice that both Masona and Porphyry prepared for the debate by fasting and that Masona carried out this vigil in the basilica of the saint that his rival had not been able to occupy. In the case of Porphyry, it is said that ‘the blessed one prepared for the following day by fasting and praying to Christ to humiliate the devil’; as for Masona, it is related that ‘he hastened to the basilica of the Holy Virgin Eulalia and for three days and as many nights, keeping the fast and crying, he remained lying on the ground before the altar, under which is buried the venerable body of the holy martyr’.26 In any case, it seems very revealing of Leovigild’s tolerant policy that not only did he not use his power to forcibly hand over the sanctuary to his Arian 23 24 25 26

Ibid., 9. Gregorio Tur. Hist. Franc. IX, 15: translation based on Herrera, Historias, pp. 335–336. Marco el Diácono, Vida De Porfirio de Gaza, 85–88. VPE, V, 10.

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bishop, but also that – according to the version of an author hostile to his religious policy such as that of the Vitas – he accepted the outcome of the debate in favour of Masona, even though we are also told that the majority of the judges he appointed were supporters of the Arian bishop.27 After the failure to occupy the most important places of worship, the king made a final attempt to subdue Masona by summoning him to the court of Toledo. Faced with the bishop’s refusal, he ordered him to at least give him the tunic of Saint Eulalia to guard it as a relic in the royal place and make it the paladium of the Urbs regia. The bishop refused and was sent into exile.28 Once Masona was in exile, the king appointed a ‘Catholic’ substitute named Nepopis. The most striking fact of this appointment is that Nepopis was the bishop of another unmentioned city – and will continue to be so under the Reccared’s mandate – so that, albeit temporarily, he was the bishop of two seats at the same time. L. García Moreno suggested that his appointment was due to his being one of the bishops who had signed the faith formula of the Council of 380, but the author says nothing about it and from his silence it must be deduced that he was an Orthodox Catholic. However, and this is another fact that must be taken into account, despite being a Nicene bishop, the author of the Vitas also depicts him with the darkest colours (diabolic character, precursor of the Antichrist and usurper – pseudo priest of the episcopal throne) to highlight the contrast with whom the hagiographer considers the legitimate holder of the episcopal seat, Masona: After this he is replaced by a certain pseudo priest, a certain Nepopis, and this is placed in the spot of the man of God in the city of Emerita. An ungodly man, absolute servant of the devil, angel of Satan, announcer of the Antichrist. He was also bishop of another city (alienae civitatis episcopus). But the more the man of God grew in abundant virtues, the more the other was stained with nefarious deeds.29

We know nothing about this bishop – apart from the information provided here – so it is not possible to resolve our doubts about the character, although 27 Ibid., 13. 28 VPE, VI, 14–21. On the religious-magical symbolism here attributed to the tunic of the Saint that Masona refused to hand over to the king so that it may be venerated in the kingdom’s capital city, see Teja, ‘El simbolismo’, pp. 265–274; on the significance that Leovigild gave to the presence of important relics and worship buildings for affirming Toledo as urbs regia like Constantinople and Theodorician Ravenna, see also Teja, ‘Los símbolos del poder’, pp. 113–122. 29 VPE, VI, 29.

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it is significant that he continued to be the bishop of his previous seat after the conversion of Reccared. It has been our objective to try to demonstrate that a critical analysis of the information ‘hidden in the hagiographic text’ seems to bring new arguments to what recent historiography has revealed using other sources: that Masona’s opposition to Leovigild’s religious policy not only defended the faith, but that it was a political rebellion for the control of a city as important as Merida against the king’s legitimate representatives.30 In the Visigothic kingdom, there was considerable confusion between the place occupied by the king, the authority reserved for the councils and the role played by the bishops in the city. As P. Díaz Martínez has stated, unity of faith could not be the universal solution to these problems and neither was the Third Council of Toledo, and this would explain the ‘undoubted disappointment’ expressed by Leander of Seville – president of the council – in his final speech. We dare to suggest that Masona’s conduct after the council is the best demonstration of this confusion and is explained because, as the same scholar has written, ‘the history of the Merida Fathers is a hagiographic text that seeks to exalt the greatness of their bishops, the superiority of the Catholics over the Arians, the pre-eminence of episcopal power over civil power, even the ability of a bishop to face the Arian king’31 and if this king is presented as an Arian ‘persecutor’, the exaltation of the greatness of the persecuted bishop offers much more powerful motives. The image of Leovigild as a persecuting king against his son Reccared, ‘founder of Spain as a Catholic nation’, of which Modesto Lafuente spoke, has been based, in addition to the commented texts of VPE, on the categorical – and well-known – statements of Isidore of Seville32 and Gregory of Tours.33 The most recent studies have provided sufficient arguments to show that these are apologetic and confessional judgements.34 Our analysis of the confrontation between Leovigild and Masona has tried to demonstrate the possibilities offered by a text of a hagiographic nature 30 Castillo himself, after commenting on the cases of the three bishops known to have been exiled by Leovigild (John of Biclaro, the Frank Fronimius and Masona) concludes that ‘their exiles are to be explained in political terms, for being connivant with external powers if not sympathetic to the rebels’, ‘Católicos y arrianos’, p. 56; on the difficult political relations between Mérida and Toledo during Leovigild’s reign, see Collins, ‘Mérida and Toledo’. 31 Díaz Martínez, ‘Concilios y obispos’, p. 1107. 32 Isid., Hist. Gothor. 50, 1–9: Arrianae perfidiae furore repletus in catholicos persecutione commota plurimos episcoporum exilio relegavit […]. 33 Greg. Tur., Hist. Franc. V, 38: Magna eo anno in hispaniis christianis persecutio fuit, multique exiliis dati […]. 34 See especially Valverde Castro, ‘Leovigildo’, pp.124–127.

304 Silvia Acerbi and Ramón Te ja

as a historical source, adding new evidence to the fact that the struggles of the Visigoth king after the Council of 580 with some bishops such as Leander of Seville, John of Biclaro, Fronimius, and Masona himself did not respond to a policy of systematic and widespread persecution of the bishops because of their Nicene stand. As M. Valverde Castro has written, ‘it is significant that in all the cases of persecution where we have more information, reasons of a political nature converged among the factors that motivated the implementation of repressive measures’.35 In addition, it is revealing, that Masona, once the rebellion of Hermenegild was curbed, returned to occupy his episcopal chair of Merida at the express wish of Leovigild himself, although it can be explained that the author attributes it to a vision that the king had had in which he was threatened with divine punishment and his usual perverse and false demeanour: ‘fearing a more severe punishment by the judgement of God, as in all circumstances he always acted with an absolute perverse pretence and pretended with total deceit, he ordered with feigned piety that the man of God, who in vain had been removed from his city, should again rule his church’.36 We can therefore conclude by saying that an analysis of the literary forms characteristic of the hagiographical literature can serve to overcome that ‘reluctant’ view ‘to use a work of hagiography’ expressed by Roger Collins, for as I. Velázquez has rightly pointed out – and with whom we concur – the VPE is ‘a source of the first order, valid from the historical point of view, but it is, above all, a hagiographic work that can be used as a historical source, as long as we start from a literary analysis and extract the data that the author uses and adapts without trying to reduce it to historical facts, in substance without seeing a historiographic work in it’.37

Works cited Campos, Julio, Juan de Biclaro, obispo de Gerona. Su vida y su obra (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Cientificas, 1960). Castellanos, Santiago, La Hagiografía visigoda. Dominio social y proyección cultural, Fundación San Millán (Logroño, 2004). 35 Valverde, Ibid., p. 130; the Spanish scholar notes that, according to Gregory of Tours himself, Hist. Franc. VI, 18, Leovigild used to go to churches presided by Nicene bishops to venerate the tombs of martyrs. 36 VPE, VIII, 28–29. 37 Velázquez, La literatura hagiográfica, p. 225.

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305

Castillo Maldonado, Pedro ‘Católicos y arrianos en la España visogoda. La conformación de un sistema único de dominación’ in La iglesia como sistema de dominación en la Antigüedad Tardía, coord. by José Fernández Ubiña, Alberto J. Quiroga Puertas, and Purif icación Ubric Rabaneda (Eug: Granada, 2015), pp. 51–71. Chaparro, César, ‘Significado de las Vitas Sanctorum Patrum Emeritensium. Lectura de sus fuentes’, in Humanitas. In honorem Antonio Fontán (Gredos: Madrid, 1992), pp. 339–351. Codoñer Merino, Carmen, El «De viris illustribus» de Isidoro de Sevilla. Estudio y edicion critica (Salamanca: Consejo Superior de Investicagiones Científicas, 1964). Codoñer, Carmen, ‘La literatura hispanolatina tardía’, in Unidad y pluralidad en el mundo antiguo. Actas Congreso Sociedad española de Estudios clásicos (Madrid, 1983), pp. 435–465. Collins, Roger, ‘Mérida and Toledo: 550–585’, in Visigothic Spain: New Approaches, ed. By Edward James (Oxford: 1980), pp. 189–219 [reprinted in Roger Collins, Law, Culture and Regionalism in Early Medieval Spain (London: 1992), I]. Díaz Martínez, Pablo ‘Concilios y obispos en la Península Ibérica (siglos VI–VIII)’ in Chiese locali e chiese regionali nell´Alto Medioevo. LXI Settimana di Studi (4–9 aprile 2013), (Spoleto, 2014), pp. 1095–1155. García Moreno, Luis, Leovigildo. Unidad y diversidad de un reinado (Academia de la Historia: Madrid 2008). Godoy, Cristina and Vilella, José, ‘De la Fides Gothica a la ortodoxia nicena. Inicio de la teología política visigoda’, Los Visigodos. Historia y Civilización = Antigüedad y Cristianismo 3 (Murcia, 1986). Herrera Roldán, Pedro, Gregorio de Tours, Historias, Introducción, traducción y notas (Universidad de Extremadura: Cáceres, 2013). Lafuente, Modesto, Historia general de España, Tomo II (Montaner y Simón: Barcelona, 1889). Monaci Castagno, Adele, L´agiografia cristiana antica. Testi, contesti, pubblico (Morcelliana: Brescia, 2010). Pérez Vejo, Tomás, España Imaginada. Historia de la invención de una nación (Galaxia Gutenberg: Madrid, 2015. Reydellet, Marc, ‘La concepción du souverain chez Isidore de Séville’, Isidoriana 1996, 457–466. Salvador Ventura, Francisco, Hispania meridional entre Roma y el Islam. Economía y sociedad (Granada, 1990). Teja, Ramón, ‘Los símbolos del poder: el ceremonial regio de Bizancio a Toledo’, in Toledo y Bizancio, ed. by M. Cortés Arrese (Universidad CLM: Cuenca, 2002, pp. 113–122).

306 Silvia Acerbi and Ramón Te ja

Teja, Ramón, ‘El simbolismo mágico de la túnica de Santa Eulalia de Mérida en el enfrentamiento entre Masona y Leovigildo’, in Eulogía. Homenaje a Mercedes López Salva, ed. by P. de Paz Amérigo, and I. Sanz Extremeño (Guillermo Escolar Editor: Madrid, 2018), pp. 265–274. Valverde Castro, María del Rosario, Ideología, simbolismo y ejercicio del poder real en la monarquía visigoda: un proceso de cambio (Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca, 2000). Valverde Castro, María del Rosario, ‘Leovigildo. Persecución religiosa y defensa de la unidad del reino’, Iberia 2 (1999), 123–132. Velázquez, Isabel, Vitas sanctorum patrum Emeritensium, ed. crítica por A. Maya, Corpus Christianorum CXVI (Turnhout: Brepols, 1992). Velázquez, Isabel, La literatura hagiográfica. Presupuestos básicos y aproximación a sus manifestaciones en la Hispania visigoda (Instituto de la lengua castellana: Segovia, 2007). Velázquez, Isabel, Vidas de los santos padres de Mérida, Introducción, traducción y notas (Trotta: Madrid, 2008).

About the authors Ramón Teja is Emeritus Professor of Ancient History at the University of Cantabria and Doctor Honoris Causa from the University of Bologna. Specialised in the history of Late Antiquity and the spread of Christianity in the Roman Empire, he is the author of more than one hundred publications on these subjects. Graduated in Classical Philology at the University of Bologna, Silvia Acerbi is lecturer of Ancient History at the University of Cantabria. She has developed an extensive research activity, being the author of several monographs and almost a hundred of papers and book chapters.

Index Abrahán 253 Acisclus 167, 168, 170 Adam/Adán 33, 45, 52, 149 Adón de Vienne 276 Adrianople/Adrianópolis 28, 81, 95, 128 Aelius Aristides 70 Aetius 48, 49, 102 Africa 51, 89, 90, 206 n.12, 234, 296 n. 11 Agila, legate 296 Agila, king 129, 167, 170, 192 Alans 107, 182 Alaric/Alarico 28, 33, 83, 86, 90, 91, 94, 95, 108, 168, 169, 255 Alaric II 183 Alavivo 35 Alexander of Alexandria 214 n.26 Alexander of Constantinople 203 Alexander the Great/Alejandro Magno 82, 128 Alexander, historiographer 144 Alexander of Macedon 89, 92 n.26 Alexandria 146, 210 Alfonso X 235 Alpujarras 67 Ambrose of Milan/Ambrosio de Milán 33, 50, 82, 86 n. 2, 162, 163, 233, 250, 252 Ambrosio de Morales 17, 75 Amaia 185, 188 Amalarico 128 Amiano 28, 29, 30 Antioch 147, 203 n. 5, 208 Antiochia maior 110 Antiochus IV Epiphanes 72 n. 26 Anthropomorphites 215 Antony monk/ Antonio 31, 162, 284 Apollinarists 215 Apollodorus of Athens 142 Apollonius 213 Apringio 262 Aquila Ponticus 162 Arbogastes 92, 93 n.27 Arcadius 82, 202, 213, 227 Aregenses 188 Aregius 173 Argimund 191 Arianism/arrianismo 16, 49, 51, 95, 110, 121, 173, 203, 205, 209, 211, 230, 281, 293, 297, 298 Arius/Arrio 121, n. 15, 203 Arles, council 204 Arpinum 83 n.90 Asia 79 Asidona 187 Aspidius 188 Assyrians 148, 150 Astures 77, 185, 194 Atahualpa 75 n. 45

Athaloc 173 Athanagild/Atanagildo 129, 183, 192 Athanasius/Atanasio 28, 31 n. 42, 162, 203, 204, 210, 214, 236 Athaulf /Ataúlfo 33, 37, 90, 94, 182 Audeca 190-191 Augustine/Agustín 28, 29, 33, 34, 50, 52, 69, 86, 95, 128, 145 n.41, 162, 163, 234, 236 n.60, 243, 248 n. 30, 250, 255 pensamiento 32-34, 260-261, 265 Augusto VPE 278-279 Augustus/Augusto, emperor 73, 76-77, 78 n. 60, 81, 122 nn. 19, 21, 255, 260, 263 Aulus Postumus 73 Aureliano 35 Aurelio Víctor 28 Aurelius, Bishop 208 Ausonius 68, 228-229 Austrasia 190 n. 22, 276 Auxentius, Bishop of Milan 203 n. 5 Avitus 48 n. 25, 108, 109 Baeticae 124 n.31, 211 bagaudae 182 Barbarians 7, 9, 12, 15, 17, 46-51, 53, 57-58, 72, 77, 85-99, 102-105, 110, 168-169, 214 n. 26 Barcelona/Barcino 182, 184, 226, 251 Basil /Basilius of Caesarea 206 n. 11, 209 n.19, 211 Bassus 208-209 Bastetania 187 Beja 262 Benenato 287 Berceo 284 Bonosus 211 Bordeaux, council 216 n. 30 Borgoña 276 Boudica/Bodicaca 65-66 Bracara/Braga 49, 109, 161, 164, 170, 234, 287 Braga, council 164, 233 n.42 Braulio de Zaragoza 275, 282-285 Britannia 81 Britons 66, 67 Brunequilda 276-277 Buccia 72 Burgunds 96 Byzantines/Bizantinos 13, 36, 43, 50, 58, 128-130, 156, 185, 189, 297 Byzantium/Bizancio 10, 51, 53, 54, 297 Cantabria/Cantabrians/Cantabri 13, 65, 76-77, 185, 188, 192, 285 Carausius 66 Carthage 147, 163, 230 Carthaginensis/Carthago Nova 30, 124, 206

308  Cassiodorus/Casiodoro 47, 57, 128, 145, 182 Castillón 185 Caucasian tribes 51 Caudine Forks 73 Cauliana 279 Celso 244 n.2 Celtiberia 71 César 128 Cicero 83 Cirencester 65 Citonato 282 Claudio II 35 Claudius, Duke of Lusitania 51, 194 Claudius Marius Victor 96 Clement of Alexandria/Clemente de Alejan­ dría 143, 244 n.5 Clementinus 206-207, 209 Clotario II 276 Clovis 183 Constantine the Great/Constantino 31 n. 42, 33, 35, 36, 51, 58, 142 n.19, 203, 205, 214, 218, 249, 255, 295 Constantine III 76 Constantinople 50, 145, 150, 184, 201 n. 1, 203, 213 n. 25, 216 n. 30, 302 Constantinople, council 163 n. 33, 215, 224, 295 Constantius 182, 203-206, 209, 214, 216 n. 30, 217 Córdoba/Cordova/Corduba 25, 167, 168, 170, 186, 188, 189, 190, 192, 205 n. 9, 206, 208 Corinth 71 Cosmas Indicopleustes/Constantine of Antioch 151 Craso 25 Cromatio, obispo de Aquileya 29 Ctesiphon 234 Curiatio Materno 25 Cynegius 216, 224; see also Maternus Cynegius Cyprian 162 Cyril of Alexandria 162 Daciano 275 Damasus/ Damasians 202 n. 2, 208-209, 211, 215, 216 Daniel 50, 69, 248 n. 30, 258, 260, 262-263 Darius the Phrygian 144 Decio 35 Desiderio/Didier 276 Dídimo, obispo 284 Didymus/Dídimo 33 n. 50, 83 Dio 66 Diocletian/Diocleciano 36, 142 n. 19, 275 Dionysius of Milan 204 Distercios, montes 284 Donatism 230 Donatus 165 Donatus of Epirus 162 Dumio 161, 162, 163, 287

Writing History in L ate Antique Iberia

Eboric 190 Ebro 72 Écija 184 Ecclesiastical history 11, 31, 43-45, 57, 126, 145, 151, 166 Egypt 203, 213, 216 Egyptians 150, 204 Eleusis 80 Eleuterio 282 Eliseo 285 Elvira, council 30 n. 36, 226, 233 n. 46 Emerita 30, 169, 186, 192, 194 n. 33, 302; see also Mérida Emiliano 14, 282-285 Ephesius of Rome 201 n. 1, 208-209 Ephesus, council 163 n. 33 Epictetus of Centumcellae 204 Epiphanius of Salamis 151 Epistemology 21-25 Estacio 25 Esteban I 277 Eugenio II de Toledo 125 n. 35, 275 n. 10 Eugenius 82, 92 Eulalia 14, 169-172, 278, 280-282, 300-302 Eunapio 29 Eunomians 216 n. 30 Euric /Eurico 128, 182, 183 Eusebius of Caesarea/Eusebio de Cesarea 15, 28, 30-33, 43-47, 51-53, 58, 78, 87 n. 3, 102, 103, 120, 121, 122 n. 18, 127, 142, 144-145, 148, 151, 244 n. 5, 248 n. 26, 249, 250-252, 260, 265 Eusebius of Vercelli 204, 210 Eutropio, historian 28-29 Eutropius/Eutropio de Valencia 124 n. 28, 164-165 Evagrius Scholasticus 51 Ezekiel/Ezequiel 47-48, 107, 112, 128 n. 48 Ezra 144 Fabius Maximus Servilianus 72-73 Faustinus 13, 16, 201-221 Felices de Bilibio 283 Felipe II/Philip II 287 n. 45, 295 Fenestella 25 Ferdinand III 295 Festo 29 Filón de Alejandría 248 n. 26 Flavius Josephus/Flavio Josefo 143, 148, 248 n.26 Florentina 184 Florentius of Merida 205-206, 208, 214 Florus 71-77 Franks 55, 58, 173, 182, 183, 185 n. 7, 186, 190, 193, 303 n. 30 Frigidus 82 Fritigerno 35 Fronimius/Fruminiano 282, 303 n. 30, 304 Fructousus of Braga/Fructuoso 14, 170, 285-287

Index

Fulgentius 162, 184 Fundanus 79 Gaius Marius 83 Galba 76, 95 n. 35 Galerius 141-142 n. 19 Galicians 48-49 Galieno 35 Galla Placidia/Gala Placidia 37, 90, 94, 108-109 Gallaecia/Galicia 46-48, 49, 71 n. 21, 77 n. 55, 81, 102, 104 n. 15, 108-111, 161, 168, 188, 206 n. 12, 236 Gaul 12, 48 n. 27, 55 n. 74, 68, 102 n. 5, 173, 182, 195, 296 Gauls 93-94 Gelmírez 287 n. 45 Gennadius of Massilia 54, 124 George of Alexandria 212 Gerona 50, 121, 164 n. 38, 183, 184 Geroncio, presbítero 282 Gerontius 76 Gideon 51 Gildas 65-66, 70 Gnosticism 231, 233 Gosvinth 191 Goths/Godos 35, 37, 48 n. 25, 49-58, 83 n. 87, 86, 88, 90-95, 102, 108 n. 36, 109-113, 143-153, 181-195; see also Visigoths/Visigodos Gratian/Graciano 35, 81-82, 209, 213, 216 n. 30 Gregory the Great/Gregorio Magno 124, 145 n. 41, 170, 261, 276 n. 14, 278, 295, 298 Gregory of Iliberis 206-211, 216, 251-252 Gregory of Tours 46, 185, 296, 301, 303, 304 n. 35 Guadalete 119 Gunderic 169 Gwynedd 66 Hadrian 13, 79-80 Hebrews 148; see also Jews Heraclidas, Bishop 212, 216 Heremigarius 169 Hermenegild 184, 190-191, 295-297, 299, 304 Herodotus/Heródoto 27, 142, 144 Hilary of Poitiers/Hilario de Poitiers 204, 210, 214, 216 n. 30, 249 Himerius of Tarragona 210 Hippolytus of Rome/Hipólito de Roma 143, 244 n. 5 Hispalis 119, 169, 186, 190, 192 Historiography 7-13, 21-38, 43-58, 102-113, 117-134, 139-153, 155-174, 181-194, 223-237 Christian historiography 11, 30-34, 36, 43-58, 85-97,103 n. 11, 118, 120, 123, 223-224, 233, 243-265 Classical historiography 11, 27-34, 44, 45, 55-58, 73, 111, 118, 130, 247 History as a genre 9, 11, 31, 43, 45, 102, 117-134, 139-145, 149, 155-174, 248 n. 30, 256, 273-288, 293-304

309 History as propaganda 7, 17, 56, 58, 150, 285, 287 History and reality 11, 14, 85-97, 108, 112, 141, 143, 148-149, 150-153, 277, 283, 287-288, 293-304 History (usefulness, uses) 147-150 Homero 27 Homoean 203 n. 5 Honorius 76, 82, 83, 182, 227 Huns 95, 96 Hydatius/Hidacio 8-15, 28, 31 n. 42, 33 n. 50, 35, 36 n. 60, 37, 43, 46-50, 52, 57, 101-115, 128, 168-170, 172, 236 n. 59 Hyginus 211 Iceni 65 Iliberis 206 Inca Garcilaso de la Vega 67-69, 74 n. 39, 75 n. 45, 83 Ingund 190 Innocent I 217 Ireneus of Lyon 162 Isaías 257, 260, 263 Isidore of Seville/Isidoro de Sevilla 8-15, 43, 52-54, 56, 58, 117, 119-131, 139-154, 155-169, 174, 181-186, 191-195, 257-261, 283, 286, 294, 303 Jacob 252 Jafet 128 Jeremías 260 Jerome/Jerónimo 15, 28, 31 n. 42, 36 n. 60, 46-47, 52, 54, 78-80, 83, 102, 103, 120, 121, 122 n. 18, 123-125, 128, 142, 144 n. 33, 145 n. 41, 217, 234, 236, 244 n. 5, 248 n. 30, 260 Jerusalem/Jerusalén 80, 95 n. 35, 109, 244, 248, 254, 256, 258, 260, 300 Jews/Judíos 15-17, 69, 78-80, 95 n. 35, 143, 146, 158, 162, 243-272, 301 John anachorita 162 John, Apostle 162 John of Biclaro/Juan de Biclaro 8, 12-15, 43, 50-52, 56, 58, 117, 120-123, 124 n. 28, 128, 156, 160-167, 181-195, 285, 295, 297, 298, 303 n. 30, 304 John of Constantinople 162 Jordanes 128, 182 Jovian 209 Juan, obispo de Zaragoza 282 Judá 252 Jugurtha 73 Julia, Manichean 301 Julian/Juliano 28, 29, 30 n. 32, 92 n. 26, 209 Julian of Toledo/Julián de Toledo 8-13, 43, 55-57, 58, 117, 131-134, 156, 173, 262-264, 299 n. 18 Julius Africanus 142, 143, 144 n. 33, 145 Júpiter 276 n. 14 Justin, historian 144, 148 Justinian/Justiniano 54, 129 n. 51

310  Justino 121 n. 14, 128 n. 46 Juvenco 15, 250 Lactantius/Lactancio 31 n. 42, 32, 33, 299 n. 18 Lauro 75 Leander of Seville/Leandro de Sevilla 124, 130 n. 60, 160-166, 184, 193, 195, 303, 304 Leo, Pope 236 León 30 Leovigild/Leovigildo 16, 50, 51, 118, 121, 128 n. 46, 129, 165-166, 171-173, 183-193, 279-282, 285, 293-304 Liberius, Pope 204 n. 6 Liciniano de Cartagena 124 n. 28, 165 n. 41 Liuva I 186 Liuva II 194 Livy (Titus Livius) 11, 15, 55, 71, 72 n. 26, 75 n. 43, 76, 77, 111, 142, 144 Lucan 140 Lucifer of Cagliari 204, 208-210 Luciferians 201, 208-210, 213, 216 Lucilla 230 Luciosus 211 Lucius 211 n. 22 Lusitania 51, 71-72, 170, 206 n. 12, 296 n. 11 M. Aurelio Caro 35 Macarius 208 Macedonians 215 Macrobius, vicarius of the diocesis Hispaniarum 227 Magnus Maximus, usurper 66, 81, 97, 233 Magog 128, 150 Málaga 187 Malaric 191 Mancinus 73 Manicheism 231-233, 301 Marcellinus 13, 16, 201-221 Marcellinus, comes 47 Marcial de Bilbilis 25 Marción 245 n. 8 Martin of Braga/Martin of Dumium 50, 161-164, 166 Martin of Tours 162, 233-234, 276, 284, 285 Masona 16, 161, 164-166, 171-173, 194, 281-282, 293-304 Mateo 251 Maternus Cynegius 224 Mauretania/Mauritania Tingitana 173, 206 n. 12 Maurice, emperor 50 Maximian, emperor 66 Máximo de Zaragoza 124 n. 28 Maximus of Naples 204 Medina Sidonia 187 Mediterranean/Mediterráneo 54, 89, 130 Melania Iunior 224, 230 Melania Senior 224, 230 Merchanas 185

Writing History in L ate Antique Iberia

Mérida 14, 30 n. 36, 165, 166 n. 46, 169-173, 182, 183, 191, 194 n. 33, 206 nn. 10, 12, 277-278, 280, 293-304; see also Emerita Messapia 148 Milan, council 204 Miro 190 Monte Cildá 185 Montelios 287 Moses/Moisés 144, 263 Nancto 279-280, 296 n. 11 Narbonne 173 Narcissus of Jerusalem 162 National Histories 9, 43-58, 103, 117, 120, 126-131 Navasangil 185 Nepopis 173, 298, 302 Nero 78, 79 Nerva 77, 81 Nestorianism 230 Neustria 276 Nicaea 80 Nicaea, council 163, 202, 295 Nicene/Nicenist 12, 16, 28, 155-156, 160, 165-166, 172-174, 201-218, 224, 261 n. 103, 293, 296-298, 302, 304 Nicolaism 233 Nicomedia 80, 211 Nike (Thrace) 203 n. 5 Noah/Noé 128, 148, 150 Nola 229 Novatianism 227 n. 10, 230-231 Numantia 13, 65, 71, 73-75, 77 Numidia 73, 230 Nummius Aemilianus Dexter 224 Olimpiodoro 29 Olyndicus 71 Optatus, Augustal Prefect 213 Origen/Orígenes 145 n. 41, 162, 247 Origenist 215, 234 Orosius/Orosio 9, 12-13, 15, 17, 28-29, 31 n. 42, 32-34, 37-38, 65-99, 128, 145, 168-169, 234, 248 n. 30, 255-256, 259-260 Orospeda 189, 190 Osius of Corduba/Osio de Córdoba 124, 205-209 Ostia 208 Ostrogoths 57 Ovid 55 Oxyrhynchus 212 Pacato 36 Pacian 224, 226-227, 230, 251 Paris, council 210 Paros, island 148 Patrophile 204 n. 7 Paul, Apostle 162, 245-248

Index

Paul, duke rebel/Pablo, duque 12, 56, 131-132, 156, 173 Paulinus of Nola 50, 228-229 Paulinus of Trier 204, 211 Peña Amaya 185 Persians/Persas 35, 50, 92 n. 26, 95 n. 35 Peter of Alexandria 215-216 Peter, Apostle 95 n. 35, 162, 168, 235 Pherecydes 144 Philastrius 151 Philippe of Side 151 Pinianus 230 Pirro 128 Pliny the Elder 148 Pliny the Younger 78-79 Plutarco 25 Polybius 143 Pompeyo 254 Popilius Caepio 72 Popilius Laena 72 n. 26 Porfirio de Tiro 245 n. 47 Porphyry of Gaza 301 Potamia 282 Potamius of Lisbon 205-206 prefiguración histórica 26 Priscillian/Priscillianus/Priscillianism/Priscillianists 16, 47, 49, 81, 110, 161 n. 26, 211 n. 22, 212 n. 24, 216 n. 30, 223-237 Prisco 29 Prosper/Próspero de Aquitania 47, 96 n. 40, 120, 128, 150 Prudentius/Prudencio 53, 170, 252-255, 259 n. 90, 275 Publio Manilio Vopisco 25 Pyrenees 55, 102, 103 Pythagoras 144 Quintiliano de Calagurris 25 Quintiliano, compañero del joven Augusto 279 Radagaisus 86, 91, 95 n. 36 Ranimirus 173 Ravenna 49, 102, 302 n. 28 Reccared/Recaredo 50-51, 58, 118, 121, 129, 164, 166 n. 46, 173, 184, 191-194, 282, 293-295, 297 n. 13, 301-303 Reccopolis 189 Renovato 279 Rimini, council 202, 204-205, 208, 210 Rodanius of Toulouse 204 Romanitas 28, 34, 65, 68, 73, 110, 174, 259, 265 Rome, church 109 n. 37, 132, 254, 286 Rome, city 204 n. 6, 208, 254 Rome, imperial 7-17, 28, 31-37, 43-58, 65-83, 85-97, 101-113, 123, 127, 128, 145, 147, 150-152, 158-159, 168, 185, 188, 208, 209 n. 19, 228, 248, 250, 252, 255, 256, 259-261, 263, 265, 297

311 Rome, sack/Roma, saqueo 28, 86, 89-96, 128, 168 Romulus/Rómulo 33, 71 Romulus Augustulus 104 Ruccones 185, 192 Rufininus 204 Rufino 29 Rufinus 145 Rufinus of Aquileia 235 Sabino 28 Sallust/Salustio 15, 55, 132, 133, 142, 144 Salvian of Marseille 88 Samnites 73 Sappi 188, 192 Saracens 51 Saul, Roman pagan commander 91 Scipio Africanus 74 Scythian 72, 85-86, 88, 92 n. 26, 150 Scythopolis of Palestine 204 n. 7 Segga 191 Seleucia, council 202, 204, 205 Séneca 25 Septimania gala 55, 131, 186 Serdica, council 206 n. 10 Serenius Granus 79 Sertorius 75-76 Servitanum, monastery 164, 165 Severo de Málaga 124 n. 28 Sicily 90 Sicyonians 150 Sigibert 190 n. 22 Simon Cleopas of Jerusalem 162 Simon Magus 234-236 Simpronianus/Simproniano 230, 251 Sión 257 Siricius 210, 233 Sirmium 35, 81 Sirmium, council 204, 207 Sisebut/Sisebuto 52, 117, 122, 124, 129, 194, 261, 276-277 Sisenando 52, 53, 127, 286 Socrates, historian/Sócrates 28-29, 145, 249 n. 34 Sofronio 282 Sozomen/Sozomeno 28-30, 145, 249 n. 34 Stephen 50 Suetonio 123 Suetonius Paulinus 66 Sueves/Suevos 12, 48-49, 52, 96, 102, 107, 111, 112, 127, 131, 166, 169, 182, 183, 188, 190, 191 n. 23 Suinthila/Suintila 52, 58, 122, 129, 183, 194 Sulpicius Severus 145, 216 n. 31, 229, 248 n. 30, 276 Sunna 166 n. 46, 173, 191, 298-300 Symmachus/Q. Aurelio Símaco 35 n. 59, 162 Synesius of Cyrene 83 n. 89

312  Tacitus/Tácito 25, 29, 34, 55, 66, 88, 142 Tagus/Tajo 72, 119 Tajón de Zaragoza 261, 262 Tarraco 186, 192 Tarraconensis 183, 194, 206 n. 12 Tatian 143 Teodoro 29 Tertullian 244 n. 5 Teuderico II 276-277 Themistius 88, 92 Theodoret of Cyrrhus/Teodoreto 28, 29, 30, 145 Theodoric the Great 109 n. 39, 299, 302 n. 28 Theodoric II 49, 109 n. 39 Theodorus, former Catholic bishop 212-213 Theodorus Lector 145 Theodosian dynasty 35, 48, 108-109, 145, 215 Theodosius I/Teodosio 13, 30, 33, 34-38, 81-82, 88 n. 7, 92-93, 201-202, 205, 208-216, 223, 295 Theodosius II/Teodosio II 29, 109 n. 36, 227 Theodotion of Ephesus 162 Theophilus of Alexandria 162, 163 Theophilus of Antioch 143 Therasia 224, 229, 230 Thessalonica 82, 224 Theudis 183 Thomas, Apostle 101-106 Thoribius, Bishop of Asturica Augusta 236 Thrace 88, 92, 203 n. 5 Tiberius 105 Timaeus 143 Tire, council 214 n. 26 Tito 254, 256, 260 Toletum/Toledo 14, 30 n. 36, 55, 56, 125, 126 n. 36, 131, 157, 172, 183, 192, 278, 282, 302 Toledo, councils 12, 283 nn. 31-32, 51, 55, 118, 119, 121, 124, 132, 156, 159 n. 16, 161 n. 23, 164165, 184, 191 n. 25, 193, 283, 294-295, 297, 303 Tolosa/Toulouse 111, 182 Trajan 13, 77-82 Trier 224, 233 Troy 93 Tucídides 27, 45 Uldila 191 Umbri 148 Universal History 12-13, 31, 33, 43-47, 52-53, 57-58, 102-103, 112, 120-123, 126, 130, 144, 166-167, 171, 248, 250, 256, 258, 261-264, 286

Writing History in L ate Antique Iberia

Valencia 164 Valens/Valente 29, 35, 92 n. 26, 95, 209 n. 19, 210, 211 n. 21, 213, 214, 216 n. 30, 230 Valentinian I 209 Valentinian II 202, 213 Valentinian III 48, 108-109 Valerian 95 n. 35 Valerio del Bierzo 285 Valerius Maximus/ Valerio Máximo 25, 73 Vallia 90 Vandals 52, 96, 107, 127, 131, 169, 182 Varro 150 Vascones 185, 189, 193, 194 Veriniano 33 n. 50, 83 Vespasiano 243, 254, 256 Victor of Tunnuna 50, 121, 144 n. 33 Victoriacum 189 Viena/Vienne 164 n. 37, 276 Vincent of Lérins 234, 236 Vincent, martyr 298 Vincent of Zaragoza 298 Vincentius, martyr 169 Vincentius, presbyter 211-212 Virgil 53, 55, 93 n. 28 Viriathus 13, 71-73, 75, 77 Visigoths/Visigodos 7-14, 17, 28, 35, 37, 43, 49-58, 117-134, 143-153, 155-174, 181-195, 257-265, 259, 261, 273, 293, 296-298; see also Goths/Godos Vitellius 95 n. 35 Vivarium 145 Volsci people 148 Vouillé 182 Walia 33 Wamba 9, 10, 12, 15, 55-58, 131-134, 156, 173, 299 n. 18 Witteric 194 Zaragoza 298 Zaragoza, council 232 Zosimus/Zósimo 28, 35-37 Zosimus of Naples 210