What Temples Stood For

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WHAT TEMPLES STOOD FOR:

CONSTANTINE, EUSEBIUS, AND ROMAN IMPERIAL PRACTICE

STEVEN J. LARSON

B.S., PURDUE UNIVERSITY, 1987

B.A., UNIVERSITY OF MINNESOTA, 1992

M.T.S., HARVARD UNIVERSITY DIVINITY SCHOOL, 1997

A DISSERTATION SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE

REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

IN THE DEPARTMENT OF RELIGIOUS STUDIES AT BROWN UNIVERSITY

PROVIDENCE, RHODE ISLAND

MAY 2008

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!"#$%"&'()"*)"!)+*$)$,'-*%."!)+*$)$"')"/$)0$(1"23."24567"!"8'9,-:;:+"$"&$8<:-'(=%" degree in Industrial Engineering at Purdue University in 1987. Following this, I worked as an engineer at Cardiac Pacemaker, Inc. in St. Paul, Minnesota. I left this position to pursue studies in the Humanities at the University of Minnesota. There I studied modern

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History from the Minneapolis campus in 1992. During this period I spent two summers studying in Greece. I stayed on in Minneapolis to begin coursework in ancient Latin and

Greek and the major world religions. Moving to Somerville, Massachusetts I completed a

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Helmut Koester. My focus was on the history of early Christianity. While there I worked

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Fellow. At Brown, I continued my studies in the history of early Christianity but with a greater emphasis on Late Antiquity. I was a teaching assistant for six courses in the history of Christianity and methods in the study of religion. I continued to work as an editorial assistant, but now for the American Journal of Archaeology in Boston. At the

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iii for two seasons. While there I was awarded a Pierre and Patricia Bikai Fellowship to conduct dissertation research at the American Center for Oriental Research in Amman,

Jordan.

My studies at Brown consisted of preliminary exams in the New Testament under

Stanley K. Stowers (Literary theory and Luke-Acts; Paul and Hellenistic philosophy) and

Late Antique Christianity under Susan Ashbrook Harvey (Holy Land pilgrimage;

Christianization of temples). In 2002, I was awarded a Brown University Dissertation

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Intern in Ancient Art at the Rhode Island School of Design Museum, where I catalogued

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Patristics Society Annual Meeting in Loyola University, Chicago. At the same conference the following year, :*7-D"*-*)-)",*"10(0#"6A*GM5&"4(5&*$+*2-"&-,"-*$1*0'" New

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Biblical Literature and the North American Patristics Society.

PREFACE

The idea for this project arose out of visits to archaeological sites in Greece, Turkey,

Israel, and Jordan. I was struck by the frequency with which Christian churches were built upon the foundations of temples. The practice of a new cult utilizing the sites of the old cult seemed to me to be a good place for analyzing how Late Roman society changed its religion. Such religious re-structuring offers an opportunity to work with visual and spatial material in a field dominated by texts and the passage of time.

The project, then, began as an attempt to bring two sets of evidence together: Late

Antique literature concerning the fate of temples and recent archaeological findings. The reason for this was that these two resources, in a sense, tell two different stories. The first

(both Christian and non-Christian) is concerned almost primarily with publicizing a small number of cases where a temple was dramatically taken over and destroyed. Such publicity has dominated our picture of the structural changes that occurred in the cities in the Late Roman Empire. The latter evidence, however, increasingly gives support for a wide spectrum of possible fates for temples: continued cultic use, reuse for other purposes (secular and religious), abandonment, physical decay, and deliberate destruction.

With this framework in mind, then, I planned to augment the limited scope of the literary evidence with relevant examples of material culture for the structural history of particular temples. The next question was: What were the geographical limits from which these examples should be culled? Is it possible to correlate specific sites mentioned by

Late Antique authors with present-day excavations? The answer turned out to be: very rarely, and those few instances where there is a correlation give us little new information

v with which to interrogate the literary accounts. What is needed to round out the picture is a survey of sites more extensive than those that ancient authors felt compelled to discuss.

I decided to focus upon those excavated sites within the Late Roman provinces of

Palaestina and Arabia. I visited many of these sites and excavated at one of them (Petra) for two seasons. I then gathered annual excavation reports for this area from the library at the American Center for Oriental Research in Amman, Jordan.

Looking through these reports, however, it became clear that there was little substantial cultural information to be gained from simply surveying the known archaeological data from a particular region. The most pertinent information, namely, the means and date of desacralization for a particular cultic site, was very rarely discernible from the material remains.1 In addition, even in those instances where it was found that a church had been built upon an earlier monumental structure, it was frequently impossible to identify that structure with any certainty. There are exceptions, but not enough to justify using a localized survey to answer questions raised by the literature.

It became apparent after this that there are more fundamental issues that should take precedence over the addition of excavated evidence to the analysis of literature (which is nevertheless an important task). These arise from the relationship between the concerns of the ancient authors and those of modern scholars. Material evidence remains useful for making an argument for the various possibilities of cultic site reuse, but cannot hold an equal place in an analysis of cultural change. It became necessary instead!at least as a work of Religious Studies!to attend to the terms (and thus the assumptions) that frame

1 "#$%&'()**)$+),))$-.*/0.,$(.#$1)'),2*3$,42)56$7.1'(.)4*48&'.*$)9&5),')$:41$2()$5)#21;'2&4,$4:$<.8.,$ sites all too often does not elucidate the nature or reason for its demise=>$?7+)2(&,@&,8$A.8.,-Christian B&4*),')C>$&,$DE A. Drake, ed., Violence in Late Antiquity: Perceptions and Practices [Aldershot: Ashgate, 2006] 266). vi the scholarly debate on the fate of temples in Late Antiquity. This is a study, then, of narratives, or how the history of cultic structures is itself structured. It is a study of the conceptual walls necessarily constructed for any discussion of the physical ones.

The question of limits remained, however. Abandoning a geographical approach led to considering a more chronological one. It seemed best to start from the beginning, that is, with the first instances of Pagan temple desacralization ostensibly initiated in the name of Christianity. These first instances occurred under the Emperor Constantine (fl. 306-337

CE). Focusing on the reign of Constantine and the sudden patronization of Christian communities also afforded me the opportunity to consider how this changing of the religious guard was explained by both ancient and modern authors. And there is no other author who provides us with more information on Constantine (and with such rhetorical richness) than Eusebius of Caesarea (fl. 314-339 CE).2 This is a study, then, of the discursive and building practices of the Emperor Constantine as presented in the writings of Bishop Eusebius of Caesarea.

2 Many others wrote on his reign, including another contemporary Lactantius, but none to the same extent as Eusebius. Most others were in fact largely indebted to him for their material on this period. vii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would especially like to thank Professor Susan Ashbrook Harvey for the immense amount of time she spent on this project, her expertise in all things Late Antique, and her patience. This dissertation was long in coming and I am grateful for all her help. I would also like to thank Professors Ross S. Kraemer and Stanley K. Stowers for their close and quick readings of each chapter, and their historical and, especially, theoretical suggestions, which have brought greater rigor to my often meandering analysis and opened up many possibilities for further work on the subject. This project has benefitted from the generosity of Martha and Artemis Joukowsky, and Patricia and Pierre Bikai. I thank them for the fantastic opportunity to excavate and conduct research in Jordan. Also, many thanks to Jordan Rosenblum for his copy editing skills and puns, and to all my friends and family in and out of the department for their constant support and encouragement. I dedicate my typos to Masarah Van Eyck.

To my wonderful parents, John and Joanne Larson. With love and gratitude.

viii

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"""1

CHAPTER 1: Modern Scholarship on Late Antique Temples!!!!!!!!!!...21

CHAPTER 2: Rhetorics of Continuity and Change: Eusebius and Constantine on Temples!!!!!!!!!!!!!!71

CHAPTER 3: Contextualizing Constantine: The Roman Imperial Context !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"""114

CHAPTER 4: Constructing Constantine: Eusebius and the Constantinian Building Program!!!!!!!!...148

CONCLUSION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!207

BIBLIOGRAPHY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!""..216

INTRODUCTION

Harold A. Drake, perhaps the most prominent scholar on Constantine and Eusebius in the United States,1 opens his book-length treatment of Constantine as follows:

This is a book about politics. It seeks to bring into sharp relief two aspects of the fourth century which have been obscured by other concerns. The first is the extraordinary political skills exhibited by Constantine the Great (306-337), an emperor who has been venerated as an instrument of God and dismissed as a credulous buffoon, but whose greatest achievement—his ability to create a stable consensus of Christians and pagans in favor of a religiously neutral public space—has been buried by time. The second is a struggle within Christian ranks over the propriety of using the coercive powers of the state in support of their beliefs.2

Drake’s project here is much larger in scope than mine. He seeks to explain the rise of

Christian militancy over the course of the fourth century. He seems also to be addressing a more contemporary concern: “The train of events culminating in that militant posture should be of consuming interest to students of politics and political behavior, as well as to all persons concerned with moderating those violent tempers that are ever present in our midst.”3 The obscuring in past scholarship of these issues is, as he sees it,

1 His works include: H. A. Drake, In Praise of Constantine: A Historical Study and New Translation of Eusebius’ Tricennial Orations (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1976); idem, “The Return of the Holy Sepulchre,” Catholic Historical Review 70 (1984) 23-67; idem, “Eusebius on the True Cross,” Journal of Ecclesiastical History 36 (1985) 1-22; idem, “Suggestions on the Date in Constantine’s ‘Oration to the Saints,’” American Journal of Philology 106 (1985) 335-49; idem, “What Eusebius Knew: The Genesis of the Vita Constantini,” Classical Philology 83 (1988) 20-38; idem, “Policy and Belief in Constantine’s ‘Oration to the Saints,’” Studia Patristiica 19 (1989) 43-51; idem, “Constantine and Consensus,” Church History 64 (1995) 1-15; idem, “Lambs into Lions: Explaining Early Christian Intolerance,” Past and Present 153 (1996) 3-36; and idem, “Fourth Century Christianity and ‘the Paranoid Style,’” in T. W. Hillard and E. A. Judge, eds., Ancient History in a Modern University (N.S.W., Australia: Ancient History Documentary Research Centre, Macquarie University; Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans: 1998) 2:357-68.

2 H. A. Drake, Constantine and the Bishops: The Politics of Intolerance (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000) xv.

3 Ibid., xvi.

due in large part to the credence scholars continue to place in the notion that religious coercion is somehow unique to Christian circumstances, or at any rate a natural and inevitable result of Christianity’s inherent “intolerance.” But while “intolerance” may be a theological problem, “coercion” is a political one. If there has been one paramount error in the study of Christianity in the fourth century, that error has been to use theological tools to understand political problems. The result is serious misdiagnosis of the causes, origins, and nature of Christian coercion. The thesis of this book is simply that the explanation lies in social processes, not theology.4

Drake, in contrast to this earlier work, stresses that “politics as a distinct field of

inquiry is the study of a process; it has nothing to say about a given individual’s

religious sincerity or lack of same. Politics is, quite simply, the art of getting things

done. It is the art of winning agreement, of mobilizing support, of gaining

consensus.”5 To elucidate this issue, he at time resorts to modern political theory to

bolster his argument,6 and maintains that the “political process [is] a process with its

own rules, its own dynamics, its own universals.”7

I highlight Drake’s study because its concerns overlap substantially with mine

and because it offers an overarching explanatory framework in which to view

Constantine’s religious policies, including the approaches he took toward cultic sites.

An important aspect of and issue to contend with in the case of Constantine’s policies

is the actions he took against Pagan temples (according to Eusebius and his

continuators). This brings us into the realm of so-called “religious violence,” or at

least that of the desacralization and/or destruction of sites of Pagan practice (people

4 Ibid.

5 Ibid.

6 Such as Hedrick Smith, The Power Game: How Washington Works (New York: Ballantine, 1989); and Graham Allison, Essence of Decision: Explaining the Cuban Missile Crisis (Boston: Little, Brown, 1971). Although ancient data shape the bulk of his study.

3 do not seem to have been harmed). This is part of the “coercion” to which Drake refers, and further reason for his relevance.8 Other major recent scholarship on

Constantine and Eusebius, particularly the work of Timothy D. Barnes, has sought to

establish a much-needed chronological framework, which is foundational for any

further interpretive work.9 Barnes’ work, however, has been for the most part

uncritical of Eusebius’ rhetoric, taking it oftentimes at face value. Drake’s work for

me has the added bonus of attempting to redress major problems in previous work

that approached the issues raised by Constantine’s policies, as he states above,

primarily from a theological perspective.

So, while I am in this dissertation very much in agreement with and building upon

the work of Drake, I will argue against a number of his methods and proposals. I

thoroughly agree that the subject of Constantine’s religious policies and building

practices are not best served by appealing to teachings internal to Christian discourse

(“theology”). In fact, I argue, instead, that such a method uncritically reproduces

Eusebius’ interests and goals. In addition, in what follows I also stress the seemingly

more political aspects of Constantine’s actions. I contend that his discourse, public

self-presentation, and building practices can all be understood as the acts of a

victorious imperator. I seek to situate them within the more encompassing context of

7 Drake, Constantine and the Bishops, xvii.

8 I do not see how this shift in terminology (from intolerance to coercion) avoids the religious issues involved. His point, however, that “intolerant” or “exclusive,” as opposed to “coercion,” are “passive, or at best theoretical, positions,” is important. Coercion, like persecution—“which seeks to compel conformity of belief”—is a “means of implementing intolerance.” Such compulsion requires political machinery. (Ibid., 74.)

9 See Timothy D. Barnes, The New Empire of Diocletian and Constantine (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1982); idem, Constantine and Eusebius (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1981).

Roman imperial practices—as does Drake (“In Constantine’s case, more than three centuries of precedent, summed up in the titles that adorned his name—Augustus,

Imperator, Victor—governed his behavior and assumptions.”10). I say “seemingly

more political aspects,” however, because I do not agree with Drake that politics

under the Roman imperial system was an autonomous field of operation, particularly

in relation to religion. His use of modern political exempla and structures for

comparison, I argue, then, is anachronistic and misleading. Certainly there are actions

taken by Constantine and his court that we need not appeal to religious beliefs and

practices to understand—such as his movement of troops from the frontiers into

towns and cities—but to remove religious considerations from the business of Roman

imperial politics is unwarranted and distorts the emperor’s own self-presentation.

Drake is surely right to acknowledge Constantine’s “extraordinary political skills,”

and the relative quiescence of the period, particularly with regard to relations between

religious populations, may well be chalked up to this. But to say that this emperor, or

any emperor, sought to “create a stable consensus of Christians and pagans in favor of

a religiously neutral public space,” is to apply modern Western political ideals

(“consensus,” “religiously neutral public space”) to the quite distinct culture of the

ancient Mediterranean. In the following discussion of the discursive and building

practices of Constantine, instead, I stress how he positioned himself not only as

political liberator of the state from tyranny and restorer of its ancient “dignity,” but

also as “servant” of the Christian god. I argue, in turn, that the former stance cannot

be understood without the latter. In addition, I aim to show how his biographer

10 Drake, Constantine and the Bishops, 36, and throughout his chapter, “The Game of Empire.” 5

Eusebius did not present any of his actions as religiously neutral (I assume that Drake would agree with this claim.).11

The question hinges on our conception of the imperial position. Both Drake and I use the term “field” above in articulating our approaches. I presume that Drake’s usage is not intended to evoke Pierre Bourdieu’s conception of field (he neither cites him nor defines the term.). It might, however, be helpful to briefly consider it, since

Drake’s view of the political realm in antiquity possesses characteristics akin to

Bourdieu’s notion of a modern field. Fields for Bourdieu are spheres of life “endowed with their own rules, regularities, and forms of authority.”12 A critical property of any field is its “degree of autonomy, that is, the capacity it has gained, in the course of its development, to insulate itself from external influences and to uphold its own criteria of evaluation over and against those of neighboring or intruding fields.”13 It should be noted, however, that its autonomy is continually contested—and it is, in fact, constituted by this conflict—and, thus, fields change and are fluid entities. They can be said to contain two poles: an autonomous pole, referring to those aspects operating according to principles internal to the field and therefore contributing to its isolation

11 Drake seeks to challenge the “conceptual scheme… according to which this [Christian] coercion [throughout the fourth century] was a natural outgrowth of monotheistic intolerance of alternative forms of worship” (“Lambs into Lions,” 4-5). I think that his solution is, in a sense, to throw the baby out with the bath water. I do not believe that one can conclude that, “Christian use of coercion in the fourth century followed from a set of conditions that are political rather than theological in nature” (Ibid., 6). The two cannot be so readily separable. While I may be seen to be highlighting the political also, I do not wish to imply that the imperial process is theologically neutral.

12 Loic Wacquant, “Pierre Bourdieu,” in Rob Stones, ed., Key Sociological Thinkers (New York: New York University Press, 1998) 221. “A cultural field can be defined as a series of institutions, rules, rituals, conventions, categories, designations, appointments and titles which constitute an objective hierarchy, and which produce and authorise certain discourses and activities” (Jen Webb, Tony Schirato, and Geoff Danaher, Understanding Bourdieu [London: Sage, 2002] 21-22).

6 from the remainder of the social arena; and a heteronomous pole, which expresses those processes of interaction with other fields.14 Bourdieu’s field, however, was

conceived as part of an explanation of the particular social characteristics of the

modern world, namely the rise of such distinct realms of specialized social activity as

science, religion, the economy, art, and politics. A critical characteristic, then, is its

independence from other realms, however contested and changing that may be.

Certainly the ancient Roman imperial position can be said to have its own set of

“institutions, rules, rituals, conventions, categories, designations, appointments and

titles,” and, like Drake, I will be stressing their importance for interpreting

Constantine’s religious policies. But the ancient imperial political process very

directly involved theological matters, and to an extent that modern European political

systems do not (at least explicitly) and have actively sought to avoid. It was at most,

then, semi-autonomous, at least in relation to modern politics.

The Roman political system had developed into a steep pyramidal hierarchy

(despite strong contestation) with the emperor at the apex. He was conceived as the

head of the imperial household and patron to all. His health and success were equated

with the empire’s as a whole, and his subjects were encouraged, sometimes even

forced, to seek the gods’ assistance in promoting and maintaining them. But more

importantly for my purposes, in this period the emperor himself (since we are

focusing on Constantine here) was not only the head of the state religion,15 but

13 Wacquant, “Pierre Bourdieu,” 222.

14 Webb et al., Understanding Bourdieu, ix, xiii.

15 Gratian was the first emperor to refuse this position – or at least the title pontifex maximus.

7 presented as the terrestrial representative of a god. In the case of Diocletian and

Maximian, it had been Jupiter and Hercules. With Constantine, it was the Christian god. As I will highlight throughout this dissertation, Constantine’s self-presentation

(in writings and in architecture) is predicated on his claim of patronage of this god. I do not fully agree, then, that we can speak of a universalizable and separable political process, one that is a recognizable constant in both the ancient and modern worlds.16

I do agree that explanations for these developments in the religious history of the early fourth century lie in social processes, and here we are better justified in seeking the aid of modern theory. But Drake distinguishes theology from social processes.17

Theology is not a transcendent, disembodied, asocial entity. It too is constructed socially and discursively, and it is central to the imperial enterprise – certainly as

Constantine presented it. I bring up Bourdieu’s theory because it can help us to better articulate these social processes.18 But the real question here is not whether Drake’s conception of politics corresponds with a “field,” but the extent to which ancient politics was a distinct, isolable realm of operation.

16 Drake, Constantine and the Bishops, xvii. As Liebeschuetz observes, “as far as the Romans were concerned, administrative and military measures of reform were never sufficient unless they were paralleled by religious and moral ones.” And, beginning with the Tetrarchy, “In the panegyrics [which represented the point of view from which the ruler wanted his actions to be seen] the ruler, his family, his edicts, his palace, and in fact everything associated with him is described with epithets appropriate only to a divinity” ( J. H. W. G. Liebeschuetz, Continuity and Change in Roman Religion [Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1979] 236, 238).

17 Drake, Constantine and the Bishops, xvi.

18 Fields are not the whole picture. They work in relationship with what he calls the habitus, or “the values and dispositions gained from our cultural history that generally stay with us across contexts” (Webb et al., Understanding Bourdieu, 36). As Wacquant notes, “neither habitus nor field has the capacity unilaterally to determine social action. It takes the meeting of disposition and position, the correspondence (or disjuncture) between mental structures and social structures, to generate practice. This means that, to explain any social event or pattern, one must dissect both the social constitution of the agent and the makeup of the particular social universe within which she operates…” (Wacquant, “Pierre Bourdieu,” 222). 8

This work is not intended to be an ad hominem argument. I am using Drake (and others) to “think with,” to borrow Claude Lévi-Strauss’ phrase.19 His work has been

invaluable in moving the discussion beyond questions of Constantine’s religious

sincerity or political opportunism. I simply think that he has pushed the pendulum too

far in the other direction. By highlighting the role of politics in the equation, he is in

danger of taking religion out of the picture.

A major dilemma in scholarship on Constantine, as I see it, is how to explain his

at times seemingly contradictory religious policies and beliefs. His “Oration to the

Saints” and letters to Christian bishops suggest a pious and sincere Christian, and yet

he allowed (perhaps even initiated) the repair and construction of several Pagan

temples in Rome and, more revealingly, his new eponymous capital. On the other

hand, according to Eusebius at least, he also ordered the destruction of five Pagan

temples in the eastern half of the empire, and confiscated the property of Donatist

churches in North Africa. In order to decorate and legitimate his capital, he removed

and publically displayed Pagan bronze statuary from perhaps a hundred or so

locations around the empire, many from famous Greek and Roman sanctuaries. In

addition, he had large and lavish basilicas built to honor the Christian god and heroes

in cities and towns across his territory.

One option is to posit an evolution to his religious thought, a movement, say,

from Pagan philosophical monotheism centering on Sol Invictus to full-blown

exclusivist Christianity with God as the only god. Something like this is possible,

given his thirty-year career and close correspondence with Christian leaders. This

9 requires developing a chronological development to his iconography. And while such a thing can and has been attempted with his coins and other public symbols, it is much more difficult, perhaps impossible, to do with the entire range of his construction activity. We are simply not informed about when a great many of these structures were initiated.

It is critical to keep in mind that this is not simply a question of explaining

Constantine’s public religious activity. Much of our knowledge (and interpretations) of Constantine’s actions come from Eusebius’s creative recasting of them. By recasting them, Eusebius sought to control the discourse, and thus subsequent interpretations of Constantine’s acts. In his material on Constantine, we must continually question whether we are hearing the words of the emperor or the bishop.

In this dissertation, I attempt to disentangle them to some extent and analyze their different interests.

My argument rests heavily on the claim, then, that it is possible to discern the very words of Constantine in Eusebius’ writings, and that scholars should be able to distinguish Eusebius’ rhetoric from Constantine’s. This is not a new claim on my part.20

Eusebius’ practice of including official court documents (letters, edicts, etc.) in his

Ecclesiastical History and Life of Constantine has been seen as a particularly noteworthy aspect of his work. The question of their accuracy, especially in light of the common

Greek and Roman rhetorical and historiographical practice of putting words into the mouths of historical characters, received some validation with the discovery of an

19 Structural Anthropology (New York: Basic Books, 1963) 61.

20 See, for instance, Drake, “Eusebius on the True Cross,” where his argument relies on being able to distinguish the language and concerns of the two men from the text of the Life of Constantine. 10 independent attestation of a Constantinian edict in the mid-twentieth century (P. London

878). The wording of this edict corresponded to that in Eusebius’ account, and has been taken as a good indication that the same would prove true with others, if found.21 This is, of course, not to say that Eusebius’ (or Constantine’s) own accounting of events should be consider unshaped by his own principles. As Barnes notes, quotations “are often preceded by introductions or paraphrases which partially contradict or are contradicted by their contents.”22 This attestation does give some justification, however, for claiming

distinctions. Eusebius not only, as Barnes notes, supplies us with documentary material

that contradicts his account, he includes information on Constantine’s activities that

clearly troubles him and calls for explanation. This will become clearer in my discussion

below. In addition, as I discuss in Chapter 2, each actor employs markedly different

discursive categories to discuss the same events and to position the same person (the

emperor). This too suggests that Eusebius preserves fragments of Constantine’s public

discourse.

One approach I take to the scholarly problem of Constantine’s religious policies is

to consider the matter from the perspective of what Jonathan Z. Smith has termed

“locative” and “utopian” viewpoints or human stances.23 Smith developed this

dichotomy “with some hesitation” in response to Mircea Eliade’s categories of

“archaic” and ”modern,” which he felt were inadequate ways of redescribing two

21 See A.H.M. Jones, “Notes on the Genuineness of the Constantinian Documents in Eusebius’ Life of Constantine,” Journal of Ecclesiastical History 5 (1954) 196-200.

22 Barnes, Constantine and Eusebius, 141, quoted in Drake, “Eusebius on the True Cross,” 8.

23 For an early articulation of these categories, see Jonathan Z. Smith, Map is Not Territory: Studies in the History of Religion (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1978) 100-3; 131-42; and passim. 11 opposing cultural responses to the cosmos: one which “affirm[s] the structures of the cosmos and seek[s] to repeat them; which affirm[s] the necessity of dwelling within a limited world in which each being has its given place and role to fulfill”; and one “in which the categories of rebellion and freedom are to the fore; in which beings are called upon to challenge their limits, break them, or create possibilities, a centripetal world which emphasizes the importance of periphery and transcendence….”24 A

locative stance, then, emphasizes place. We might here apply the saying, “A place for

everything, and everything in its place.” A utopian one, on the other hand,

emphasizes the “value of being in no place,” of transcending the limits of place.

Smith is cautious about this dichotomy, perhaps in part because of its potentially

structuralist implications. He writes that, “[w]hatever terminology is employed, we

must be careful to preserve a sufficient sense of the experiential character of this

dichotomy and resist imposing even an implicit evolutionary scheme of

development” (i.e., locative as primitive, archaic, and utopian as modern).25 By

“experiential character,” I assume he means that these categories should not simply

be seen as psychological states, but categories that include and involve social

practices.26 In addition, he acknowledges that “[b]oth have been and remain coeval

24 Ibid., 100-1. He has also suggested other formulations: centrifugal and centripetal; central and peripheral; closed/static and open/dynamic; compact and differentiated (101, 132). In another address he explored a different categorization, distinguishing religions of “here” (domestic religion), “there” (temple- based public religion), and “anywhere” (religious entrepreneurs, associations, “magic”). He explicitly states, however, that this schema is not to be identified with the locative/utopian distinction. (“Here, There, and Anywhere.” Reprinted in idem, Relating Religion: Essays in the Study of Religion [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004] 323-39).

25 Ibid., 101.

26 “I have a sense that much will be learned from relating these cosmic views to the social worlds in which they are found” (ibid., 101). 12 existential possibilities,” noting as example how ancient Greeks developed the bounded polis system at the same time they were pursuing expansive colonization.27

In the context of religion in the Roman Empire, locative would be one way of categorizing the core of traditional Greco-Roman religious practices, which were directly tied in with agrarian life. In this situation, authority was based on land and property. Religion was conservative and linked with conventions of the past, and the rituals were instrumental.28

I find Smith’s topographical terminology particularly appealing for my project

because I am focusing on cult places, and the attitudes and practices of Constantine

and Eusebius toward them. My data are locative data (but their interpretations are not

always). It is important to state, then, that, since I am looking only at cultic sites

located in specific places, I am from the very start concentrating on the locative

aspect of ancient Mediterranean religion. I do not examine other aspects of Pagan or

Christian practice, other than a narrow range of writing on sites.

I am, in fact, using Smith’s terms in a very limited sense. By locative, I mean that

different places call for different practices, and that practices are not necessarily

organized consistently and in non-contradictory ways across a region. There is a local

logic to what is practiced at a particular place. It may be because of what is believed

to have happened there, or because it is a site of a particular type or range of types of

27 Ibid., 132. In addition, “each locative culture was to discover that its cherished structures of limits, the gods that ordained and maintained these limits, and the myths which described the creation of the world as an imposition of limits were perverse. Each culture rebelled against its locative traditions, developing a complex series of techniques for escaping limitation…” (140).

28 But for concerns about these two categories as being undertheorized and potentially misused, see Stanley K. Stowers, “Kinds of Myth, Meals, and Power: Paul and the Corinthians,” (unpublished paper) 59. 13 activity. It is based on a sense of what is right for that place. I will argue that one way to better understand the Emperor Constantine’s building activity is that it corresponds to this logic. I assume that he held to this understanding because it was the traditional, standard way of “doing” religion in the ancient Mediterranean. It should be said, however, that this may not be the entire story, since there is some indication that he may have declined to participate in sacrifice and perhaps even legislated against it.

This remains unclear, but it is possible.

In turn, the contrasting category of utopian (as in literally “without place”) is also useful for understanding some of this material, particularly Eusebius’ position.

Eusebius offers us an interesting case of a cultural specialist (bishop, intellectual) and religious exclusivist engaging in discursive practices that construct a Christian position as the only true position. He does this partly by constructing a very rigid division between—in the case of the material I am looking at—Paganism and

Christianity,29 which involves a worked-out theory of how to understand “their”

practices. With him we may well be witnessing the construction of religion as its own

category of practice dislodged from its traditional, locative roots. Perhaps this is more

like a specialized field in Bourdieu’s sense, but with the caveat that Christianity is for

Eusebius still very much intertwined with the imperial system (in fact, as we shall see

in Chapter 1, he links the two even more explicitly than some other Christian

intellectuals [like Ambrose?] may have been comfortable with.). In addition, his

writings and speeches on the emperor’s career can be understood to be an attempt to

assign underlying principles to and construct coherence for a wide range of imperial

14 acts. This narrative organization and principled coherence has an element of placelessness to it. In other words, he portrays Constantine as exhibiting a consistent policy across time and place: rooting out heterodox practices wherever they may be.

Yet there is a tension, or perhaps contradiction, in Eusebius that centers on the new imperial endowments in the form of church buildings and property. I will argue, then, that in his writings on Constantine’s monuments (two orations were even delivered while standing within such new structures), Eusebius struggles to adjust to these lavish material gifts and circumscribe the implications for Christian practice. In his portrait of Constantine, the contradiction is inherent to his own selection process, that is, in terms of what activities he chose to include and leave out. He portrays

Constantine as a ruler uprooting the sites of evil and polluting (Pagan) practices, while multiplying those types of cultic sites that mirrored heavenly truth.

So, while I use locative and utopian to “think with,” I do so in a different way from

Smith.30 He has pointed out the centrality of this focus on place: “The question of the

character of the place on which one stands is the fundamental symbolic and social

question. Once an individual or culture has expressed its vision of its place, a whole

language of symbols and social structures will follow.”31 I am not in a position to

29 In other writings he focuses on Jews as the dialogical Other.

30 Stan Stowers has suggested that, instead of utopian, a better redescription of these phenomena would be a religion of cultural producers; intellectuals freed from agricultural, locative ties (Personal conversation).

31 Smith, Map is Not Territory, 141 (his emphasis).

15 comment on the extent to which this may or may not be true,32 but I can say that it is the

question I will be focusing on here.

Another approach to Constantine’s religious activities is to challenge the

assumption that he (or anyone) acted in consistent, non-contradictory ways across his

career. We might consider the possibility that he did not have such a clear and

principled approach to all matters, as Eusebius insists; that his actions may at times

have been reactive and addressed to particular, limited groups or audiences in quite

local contexts. This may be, however, an open-ended, inconclusive approach; one in

which we simply throw up our hands and acknowledge that anything goes. I think it

is important though to at least recognize the possibility of local contexts for each of

Constantine’s actions, even despite the fact that such situations are almost always lost

to us. In addition, I do not intend to use this approach in such an indeterminate way. It

is possible instead to suggest some sort of logic to his actions, whether it is based on

context or setting or audience.

There are a variety of social theories that articulate such a view of a multiple

social self. Some social psychologists have proposed the theory that people have a

“repertoire of personas,” each of which is discursively constructed in conversation

with others.33 As Rom Harré and Luk van Landgenhove note: “Taken over a period

of time it becomes clear that each person has many personas, any one of which can be

32 In an earlier essay in his book, Smith goes as far as saying that, “The alternation, the discoveries and choices of and between these two views is, as again I have learned from Eliade, the history of man and the history of religions” (ibid., 103).

33 Rom Harré and Luk van Langehove, “Dynamics of Social Episodes,” in idem, eds., Positioning Theory: Moral Contexts of Intentional Action (Oxford: Blackwell, 1999) 7. “The concept of positioning can be seen as dynamic alternative to the more static concept of role” (idem, “Introducing Positioning Theory,” in Positioning Theory, 14). 16 dominant in one’s mode of self-presentation in a particular context.”34 They refer to

this process of social construction as positioning. “One can position oneself or be

positioned as e.g., powerful or powerless, confident or apologetic, dominant or

submissive, definitive or tentative, authorized or unauthorized, and so on.”35

Constantine, like everyone does, inhabited social positions and engaged in practices

native to those positions. He was at different times—and sometimes overlapping—

emperor, Christian, judge, general, builder, father, victor, son, etc. In Chapter 2, I will

begin to consider some of the ways that Constantine positioned himself—and was

positioned by Eusebius—by attending to the respective rhetorical categories they

employ. The situation presented by Eusebius’ writings is complex, since not only

does he supply evidence that suggests that Constantine acted contradictorily (or

according to the constraints of different subject positions), but he himself can be

understood as imposing a position on Constantine, and one that at times conflicts with

and even contradicts Constantine’s own positioning.

On occasion throughout this dissertation I refer explicitly or implicitly to the

intentions of Constantine. By intention I mean that an act is being directed beyond

itself.36 I am not necessarily claiming to have gained access to the emperor’s private

mental states (or discourse), but am claiming that his public presentations can be

34 Harré and van Langehove, “Dynamics of Social Episodes,” 7. Eytan Bercovitch uses the term “social multiplicity” to order to express how “people possess several, often contradictory sets of beliefs and practices” (“The Altar of Sin: Social Multiplicity and Christian Conversion among a New Guinea People,” in Susan L. Mizruchi, ed., Religion and Cultural Studies [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001] 212). Quoted in Stowers, “Kinds of Myth, Meals, and Power,” 9.

35 Harré and van Langehove, “Introducing Positioning Theory,” 17.

36 Rom Harré and Luk van Langenhorre, “The Dynamics of Social Episodes,” in idem, eds., Positioning Theory: Moral Contexts of Intention Action (Oxford: Blackwell, 1999) 2. 17 approached and understood as partaking in larger cultural discourse. I claim only to be analyzing his public discourse – its rhetoric, symbol set, and categories, and how it can be understood in relation to comparable contemporary discourses. This is a question, then, of how he positions himself relative to his predecessors and contemporaries. The accuracy of any interpretation is something that can only be judged by us in conversation over our extant data.

An additional approach to Constantine is to point out the problem of forefronting religion in identity; that is, claiming that a person (in this case the Christian

Constantine) operates under an internal directive dictated by authoritative texts, such as “love your enemy/turn the other cheek” or something based on the idea that God is a jealous god. This is a problem that I think Harold Drake is trying to address by focusing on political processes. Not only is any selection of critical texts/messages arbitrary, but working from text to action is a suspect method. To say that, since

Constantine was Christian, we must be able to predict—even understand—his actions based on Christian authoritative writings raises more problems than it solves, the least of which is choosing the determinative texts. In the discussion that follows, it should become clear that even the two Christians under examination here, Constantine and

Eusebius, have different ideas of what being Christian entails.

Outline of the Chapters

The first chapter contains a review of the literature on Late Antique temples. It traces

in greater detail how I came to focus on the particular questions and subject matter of this

18 study. It acts as an entry into the subject of Pagan temples and Christianization broadly conceived. Following this review, I present what I think are some of the main lines for consideration in further studies. In particular, I point out the lack of attention paid to the

Roman imperial context of this activity. Such a refocusing, I suggest, then raises a larger question about how we redescribe these instances of ancient religious violence. The remainder of the chapter, then, is concerned with problematizing the use in scholarly narratives of modern conceptions of religious tolerance.

The second chapter is an examination of the different rhetoric employed by Eusebius and Constantine to frame and explain the emperor’s attitude toward the cultic property of the empire’s religious communities. I consider how heavily tradition, antiquity, and precedence weigh in imperial decision-making on religious matters, and examine the actions of some of Constantine’s immediate predecessors. I contrast this with Eusebius’ attempts to distance Constantine from all previous emperors and point out how important it is to factor in the role of office or position (as emperor, bishop, magistrate, monk, etc.) when explaining actions taken against other religious communities. I then consider how

Bishop Eusebius justifies the new elaborate imperial benefaction (in the form of monumental meeting halls) being bestowed upon him and his fellow Christians, and how he distinguishes them from Pagan structures, some of which he claims have been destroyed by Constantine. The next section argues that the ever-present potential for religious domination under the Roman imperial system and the existence of militant cosmologies (such as Eusebius’) are better explanations for actions taken against religious communities than those brief moments of religious tolerance. I consider also how Eusebius, in his new role as imperial apologist, interweaves the emergence of the 19 empire with that of Christianity, and the role of emperor as a model of piety. I conclude the chapter by considering how the bishop’s rhetoric celebrates a different sense of restoration than the emperor does.

In the third chapter, I move beyond Eusebius’ interpretive framework of the life of

Constantine and attempt to situate the emperor’s responses to cultic structures within the larger matrix of Roman imperial power, in order to better understand what was possible given its workings. Here I ask the question: Did Constantine and his officials treat cultic structures differently from their predecessors? I consider also how both Pagan and

Christian “temples” functioned in the landscape of power struggles within the imperial system. In order to counterbalance the Eusebian interpretive tradition of radical change in the workings of the empire under Constantine, I hold up for examination certain characteristics of Roman administrative, economic, political, and legal history, such as: temples as property; pillaging and the imperial economy; the extent and limits of imperial power; and corporate identity in the empire. Following this, I try to situate these actions by Constantine within the current field of “Late Antiquity” using recent scholarly assessments of the period generally.

The fourth, and final, chapter is an examination of the specific cultic sites (Christian and Pagan) either built or destroyed under Constantine. I use Eusebius’ narrative, particularly in his Life of Constantine, as a jumping-off point and supplement it with modern archaeological interpretations. I begin with the emperor’s building activity in

Rome and highlight its continuity with that of his defeated rival Maxentius. I then discuss

Eusebius’ remarkable silence on this flurry of building in the ancient capital and consider explanations for it. The remainder of the chapter is focused on Constantine’s activity in 20 the East, particularly in Palestine and Constantinople. Here I question what I consider to be largely positivistic interpretations of the location of the Holy Sepulcher and redress the question from the perspective of Eusebius’ broader interpretive framework. Finally, I analyze site-by-site Eusebius’ list of temples destroyed by Constantine and then question whether this list is his own creation, reflecting his own concerns, or an accurate list of the emperor’s activity. MODERN SCHOLARSHIP ON LATE ANTIQUE TEMPLES

In this chapter, I analyze the secondary literature for the Christianization of temples in the Roman Empire from the fourth through the sixth centuries.1 These works seek to address the question: What did Christians do with temples?

!"#$%#&'$()*+*,-$./$*0'.%%#012$*,$.,/.0#&$%#&'3$%"*%$./4$.%$./$*$56,/%&75%$68$9"&./%.*,$ theological historiography and thus carries with it derogatory connotations (rural, irrational, unrestrained). The recent revival of the term for religious self-identity further

56':1.5*%#/$.%/$7/*+#$86&$*,5.#,%$#&#,%/;$<,0$=".1#$%"#$%#&'/$(:612%"#./%-$6&$(>#11#,#-$ may be preferable 6?#&$()*+*,-@despite the fact that it makes for more awkward phrasing@there is no single, unproblematic term. The same holds true for the use of the

,67,$()*+*,./';-$!"#&#$*&#$*$?*&.#%2$68$terms intended to point to the same set of practices which can be used in its stead: polytheism, Greco-Roman religion, Hellenic

1 !"#/#$/#56,0*&2$/67&5#/$6,$%#':1#$/#$*&#A$B&.#0#&.5"$C#.5"'*,,4$(B&D"5"&./%1.5"#$E.&5"#,$.,$<,%.F#,$ Heiligtümern4-$Jahrbuch des deutschen Archäologischen Instituts 54 (1939) 105-36; idem, (9"&%.*,./.#&7,+$GG$H0#&$I6,7'#,%#J,-$.,$Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum, II, 1954, col. 1228-1241; idem4$(K6,$!#':#1$L7&$E.&5"#4-$.,$Mullus: Festschrift Theodor Klauser (Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum Ergänzungsband 1, 1964) 52-MN3$O*&%"$B6=0#,4$(P./"6:/$*,0$!#':1#/$.,$%"#$Q*/%#&,$R6'*,$ Empire A.D. 320-435,-$Journal of Theological Studies 29 (1978) 53-78; R. P. 9;$>*,/6,4$(!"#$ Transformation of Pagan Temples into Churches in the Early Christian Centuries,-$Journal of Semitic Studies 23 (1978); Michael Greanhalgh, The Survival of Roman Antiquities in the Middle Ages (London: Duckworth, 1989) esp. 91-97; Helen Saradi-I#,0616?.5.4$(9"&./%.*,$<%%.%70#/$%6=*&0$)*+*,$I6,7'#,%/$.,$ Late Antiquity and Their Legacy in Later Byzantine 9#,%7&.#/4-$Dumbarton Oaks Papers 44 (1990) 47-59; Jean-).#&&#$9*.11#%4$(S*$%&*,/86&'*%.6,$#,$T+1./#$0UT0.8.5#/$:7V1.5/$#%$0#$%#':1#/$W$1*$8.,$0#$1U*,%.X7.%T,-$.,$ Claude Lepelley, ed., La fin de la cité antique et le début de la cité médiévale: De la fin du IIIe siècle à !"#$%&'('&)*+'*,-#.!'(#/&' (Bari: Edipuglio, 1996) 191-YZ[3$PT*%&.5#$9*/#*74$(!"#$9"&./%.*,.L*%.6,$68$ Law: The Protection of Religious Buildings,-$.,$R*1:"$\;$I*%"./#,4$#0;4$Shifting Frontiers in Late Antiquity II: The Transformation of Law and Society in Late Antiquity (Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press, 1997); eadem, (]*5�$S*,0/5*:#/,-$.,$O1#,$P6=#&/65F$#%$*1;4$#0/;4$Late Antiquity: A Guide to the Postclassical World (Cambridge: Belknap Press, 1999); eadem4$(^_`abacd$ecfgch: La 0T/*5&*1.L*%.6,$0#/$#/:*5#/$#%$0#/$6Vi#%/$.+.67j$:*k#,/$07&*,%$1U*,%.X7.%T$%*&0.?#,-$.,$I.5"#1$E*:1*,4$#0;4$ 0'*1#2.3*')*14&*5&12.56)54&*+#&1*!"'16#2'*7*89:#&2'*')*'&*;225+'&)<*=)>+'1*24(6#.3'1 (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 2001) 61-135; Jean-I.5"#1$]:.#/#&4$(!"#$9"&./%.*,./*%.6,$68$)*+*,$]*,5%7*&.#/$.,$O&##5#4-$ in idem, Urban and Religious Spaces in Late Antiquity and Early Byzantium (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2001) VI.1-13; Frank Trombley, Hellenic Religion and Christianization c. 370-529 (2nd ed.; Leiden: Brill, 2001).

22 religion, traditional ancient Mediterranean religion, etc.2 The least unwieldy of these terms, polytheism, obscures the fact that, by the time of Constantine, !"#$#%&

'(%()*+,-'.&/#-&#&0,#12+&3+2,$,(4-&(4)2((56&78&/+&+'92(:&)3#;,),(%#2&<#%=,+%)&

Mediterranean) religion, it then becomes difficult to choose a comparable adjective

(traditionalists?). An additional consideration with the term traditional>by no means fatal to its use>is the potential implication of changelessness. One of the larger problems which I hope to address with this study, though, is the adequacy of comparing or contrasting Christianity and Paganism as if they were similar in kind.3 I do think that, if the terms Pagan and Paganism are used, they should at least be capitalized in order to function as historical referents on par with Christian and Christianity (or Jew/Judaism,

Manichee/Manicheism, etc.). It seems to me that it makes little sense to point out the derogatory nature (or at least origin) of these terms, but then to use them in a way that

2 ?2+%&@(/+3-(=5A-&=(''+%)-&(%&)*,-&,--4++&*+29842B&!C*+!($#),(%&(8&#&/(3;&D!E+22+%+.F&)*#)&*#;& formerly meant Greek to designate such people represented in part the transmission of their religious heritage through Greek texts and in part their use of the Greek language to communicate with one another despite manifest disparities of cult. Our terms>pagan and polytheist>have become collective expressions for any peoples in this place and period who were not Jewish, Christian, or Muslim. Obviously there are problems with an identity that is established negatively, and in some areas of religious studies today it has become fashionable to eschew these terms altogether. The word polytheism is somewhat more politically correct, it seems, than paganism, but it does not please everyone. No one has yet suggested making use of the Latin equivalent gentilisG&#-&!$+%),2+.+#;:&*#-&#%&,%;+-)34=),12+&93+-+%=+&,%&(43&2#%$4#$+&/,)*&)*+& sense of non-Jew rather than polytheist (which is, after all, simply a subcategory of non-Jew). If we are not to be reduced to total aphasia in discussions of the religious structure of the late antique world, and particularly Arabia and the three Palestines, we will have to make do with the expression polytheism, keeping paganism ,%&3+-+30+&8(3&-):2,-),=&0#3,#),(%.&

3 Arthur Darby Nock raised this issue 70 years ago and, although at times he resorted to speculations about psychological needs, his insights on structural differences between Greco-Roman religion and Christianity remain indispensable (Conversion: The Old and the New in Religion from Alexander the Great to Augustine of Hippo [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1933]). This is not the same as claiming that Christianity was unique or sprung fully-formed in the ancient world. It is saying, however, that organized Christianity also exhibited features of Greco-Roman philosophy. The attempts by the emperors Maximinus Daia and Julian to reform polytheism to mimic the hierarchy and social institutions of Christianity (to make the temple more like the church!), is an indication of these structural differences.

23 replicates that same academically problematic sense of inferiority. Pagan and Paganism are proper nouns after all (Pagan is also, of course, used as a proper adjective.).

Here, I am concerned with the urban, public, enclosed areas designed for the worship of deities through the principle practices of animal (and vegetable) sacrifice and prayer.

For these, !"#$%"&'%"&%()$"*&%)+,%$-."*temenoi-."/01"*+2,3&'%4$&45/Pagan 5#,&45"$4&%$." interchangeably. I am concerned with the entire temenos area unless otherwise noted. By

*6'(4$&4/047/&420."2("*6'(4$&4/0"(%#$%."28"/"&%)+,%-"!")%/0"&'%"5%$$/&420"28""+2,3&'%4$&45" practices (howsoever it may happen) and the deliberate alteration of such a site for the practice of Christian congregational ritual. This may involve complete demolition and subsequent construction on the same general site, or less invasive structural adaptations that reemploy earlier building materials. The change from sacrifice to Eucharist may

255#("*29%(04:'&,."2("82,,2;40:"/"+%(421"28"5%0&#(4%$<

By Paganism, I mean those practices located at and oriented toward a public temple structure. Other forms and levels of Pagan practice, such as domestic and funeral rituals or other formations such as associations, are outside of the purview of this study. I am less concerned here with delineating particular practices at these temples (although they do play a role at some points) than discussing those practices oriented toward a temple as a physical entity, such as writing on the proper understanding of these sites in the cultural landscape, removal of statuary, demolition, remodeling, construction, etc. In my own analysis, beginning in Chapter 2, I am concerned with temple practices primarily as

Constantine and Eusebius imagine them.

The phenomenon at issue here is what Jean-Michel Spieser has referred to as the

!"#$#%&'$()*'+,*#)-*)./-*/,0/"1//-,"/2$+/,'-.,*(3&*(454 Such circumstances present an unusual opportunity to trace in the same place the changes that occurred in the empire when Christianity displaced polytheism. Each case is unmistakably local and available for spatial interrogation.

Focusing attention upon the palimpsest-+)6/,$&'*")*/,#7,!1&)")-%5,8(&)9")'-)":,#-"#, polytheistic place helps to shed light on the complex and long-lasting negotiations that we call the Christianization of the Roman Empire. Paying attention to the often messy process of overlapping sacred places helps to mitigate claims of a rapid (some would say

&'0).;<,#=/&-)%(",93$$+'-"'")#-,#7,$#+:"(/)92,0:,8(&)9")'-9,)-,"(/,1'6/,#7,8#-9"'-")-/>9, innovations. Such claims have contributed to reinforcing a scholarly habit of attempting to insulate Christianity from contemporary Greco-Roman religions by conceiving the former as something that could simply overlay the latter.5 Studying changes in the articulation of sacred space and its facilitation of practices helps to thwart such abstract conceptions.

Not surprisingly, my own study of these changes has led me to alter some perspectives I held at the beginning of this project. Initially, for example, I had considered

"(/,$(&'9/,!the triu2$(,#7,8(&)9")'-)":5,?39/.,)-,&/+'")#-,"#,"/2$+/,&/39/;,"#,0/,'-, unfortunate battle metaphor that fits too comfortably with Christian theological historiography. And, since historio- and hagiographical sources (particularly from the

4 @$)/9/&<,!A(/,8(&)9")'-)9'")#-,#7,B'%'-,@'-*"3'&)/9,)-,C&//*/<5,DE4F4

5 Jonathan Z. Smith makes this point in his Drudgery Divine: On the Comparison of Early Christianities and the Religions of Late Antiquity (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990) 83.

25 fourth and beginning of the fifth c.) are replete with religious confrontation and triumphalist claims, I thought that archaeological evidence could at least provide a different axis upon which to add further form to such literary evidence (for instance, evidence of adaptation, preservation, and even continuity).6 Now, however, I think that such militaristic terminology is precisely correct, at least to the extent that it best reflects ancient attitudes to the situation they imagined themselves to be engaged in. I will comment on this more at the end of this chapter.

It is still my contention (and many of the scholars surveyed below will agree), however, that the vast majority of civic authorities were averse to damaging prominent existing urban ornamentation, such as temple complexes, and expended much of their professional energies on maintaining peace within their jurisdiction. Perhaps as a result,

Christians were more likely to build their cultic edifices on locations other than those occupied by non-Christians. There are, of course, other explanations for this, such as the taboo among polytheists against intramural burial (except in the case of an eponymous hero). Wherever this value continued to dominate, the Christian practice of combining regular assembly and veneration of their dead necessitated the construction of cultic assembly halls outside city walls.

6 This was not to say that archaeological evidence is somehow hermeneutically transparent and can thus provide an objective standard of evidence against which literary evidence can be corrected of its biases. In fact, archaeological and literary evidence should not be seen as strictly independent realms. Not only is a great deal of archaeological evidence literary (or at least textual), we also tend to approach architectural remains literarily.

Scholars of Late Antiquity have recently been making a strong case against characterizations of monotheists as intolerant and polytheists as tolerant and syncretistic;7 that

!"#$%"&'()*+,-,$"-)+.)/#0$12-,+#34)53%)67+)3$-)5+,3)-7$%)303*7$%-'8),$9$:"%:)-73) countryside and its cultic sites8 is the exception rather than the rule (and should be

39$0&$-34)6"-7"%)-73),73-+,"1$0)-7,&'-)+.)!"#$%"&'()+,$-"+%;<)=-73,')7$93)#33%)$%$0>zing examples of reuse of temples from more locally-contextualized perspectives. Each example should, I think, be seen as a local phenomenon and, where data are available, be addressed in that fashion. Of course, all of this work is part of an attempt to integrate

(Christian) archaeological evidence with the more familiar literary sources, something which, in the study of early Christianity, is not fully possible until the fourth century.

Temple reuse is analyzed by other scholars within the larger context of the

Christianization of the empire, in terms of changes in religion as well as urban and rural geography. In the case of the latter, temples are seen as being only one site in the cultural landscape to undergo the kind of refashioning that cause us to distinguish the Classical period from Late Antiquity.

The Scholarly Discussion on Temples

I will not rehearse here the evidence for imperial legislation against the practices of polytheism and its structures (such as those codified in 438 in Codex Theodosianus 16.10,

7 ?<:<@)A<)B-7$%$''"$4")CD&+-34)"%)E$'3$&@)/FGHIJIKL)MKNOKP8;)+..3,')$ ->*"1$0)1$,"1$-&,3Q)/R%-+03,$%13)"') built into the very presuppositions of Judeo-Christian thought and, accordingly, the triumph of Christianity ,$"'34)"%-+03,$%13)+.)+-73,)1,334')-+)-73)03930)+.)$),30":"+&')$%4)'+1"$0)"43$0<8)

8 Libanius Or. 30.8.

27 as well as 15.1).9 On legislation, however, I do think it is helpful to at least quote in full

!"#$%&'(($)*+%,-$.-'$/%,0%+12,#".#)%1,(1#3+',(+%4"+$5%36,(%CT 16.10.

From it, modern scholars have deduced an initial hardening of opposition to the old cults under Constantius II (confirmed by Libanius 38), followed by the brief pagan restoration under Julian (361-363), a period of tolerance under Valentinian I and the early Gratian (to 382), and a decisive, fatal turn under Theodosius I in 391-392 (16.10.10-12). From the same laws one can also infer "(%"66.$1'"7',(%,0%72$%7$86#$+*%13#73."#%-"#3$9%$:6.$++$5%"7%0'.+7%'(%"77$867+%7,% keep them open for nonsacrificial purposes (16.10.3, 7, 8, 10-12) and subsequently in decrees protecting their buildings and ornaments (16.10.15, 18). By the beginning of the 5th century, however, the edicts show a progressive "1;3'$+1$(1$%'(%72$%7$86#$+*%5$8,#'7',(%<=>?=?@AB%=C?=A?=D9%E>F?10

G7%'+%"#+,%($1$++".)%7,%(,7$%&'(($)*+%<"(5%,72$.+*F%1"-$"7%1,(1$.('(H%72$%.$"12%"(5%

$00'1"1)%,0%72$+$%$5'17+I%G7+%#"/+%".$%,07$(%J"5%2,1%.$+6,(+$+%7,%#,1"#'K$5%+'73"7',(+9%."72$.% than products of a consistent legislative program intended to be applied across the

$86'.$?L11 Additionally, repeated legislation concerning temples over several decades has been understood as an indication of the difficulty of enforcing such rulings against the ongoing practice of plundering state property. Béatrice Caseau has observed, however, that, until the end of the fourth century, the cases of temple destruction in cities (this was not necessarily the case in rural areas) went ahead only under the direction of imperial mandate.12 Civic leaders typically sought for the preservation of significant urban monuments and those cases in which major cultic houses were violently destroyed tended

9 See, e.g., John F. Matthews, Laying Down the Law: A Study of the Theodosian Code (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000); Tony Honoré, Law in the Crisis of Empire, 379-455 AD: The Theodosian Dynasty and its Quaestors with a Palingenesia of Laws of the Dynasty (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998).

10 In Glen Bowersock et al., eds., Late Antiquity: A Guide to the Postclassical World, 718 (s.v. J7$86#$+LF?

11 Ibid.

12 M"+$"39%JN"1.$5%O"(5+1"6$+9L%'(%'4'5?9%PA?

28 to be in places where there was a significant opposition from the local polytheist community. But even in these cases, due to the difficulty in undermining such large stone structures, military manpower was required. Thus, there is the more common scenario of abandonment and eventual decay.

!"#$%"#&'()$#&'*+,,-.(/0"1("$*+#,.(2'$(*0.2($32$,.#4$(.5"4$6(07(2$*89$(

&0,4$".#0,.(20(%+2$:(;#.(<=>=(+"2#&9$?(@!"A'&'"#.29#&'$(B#"&'$,(#,(C,2#1$,(;$#9#D2A*$",?E( is a kind of gazetteer of sites across the Mediterranean, including primary and secondary sources relevant to each site.13 He has supplemented this work with a substantial entry in the Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum +,%(+,(+"2#&9$($,2#29$%(@F0,(G$*8$9(H5"(

B#"&'$:E14 His contributions remain indispensable for any work on this subject, primarily for the archaeological and literary data which they provide. His analyses of such data, however, are strongly theological. There is an implicit teleology to his understanding of the movement from polytheist to Christian architecture and iconography, leading him to sp$+1(/#2'052('$.#2+2#0,(07(@85"$ I'"#.2#+,(70"*.:E(;#.(.5"4$6?('0/$4$"?("$*+#,.(2'$( fundamental starting-point for any assessment of temple conversions.

R. P. C. Hanson, whose art#&9$(@G'$(G"+,.70"*+2#0,(07(J+D+,(G$*89$.(#,20(I'5"&'$.(

#,(2'$(K+"96(I'"#.2#+,(I$,25"#$.E(.$$*.(20(L$(2'$(7#".2(70&5.$%(2"$+2*$,2(07(2'$(.5LM$&2(#,(

K,D9#.'?('+.(&0,&95%$%(2'+2(@,0(2"+,.70"*+2#0,(07(+(8+D+,(2$*89$(#,20(+(I'"#.2#+,(&'5"&'( can be safely dated as early as the fourth century and that the earliest date which we can

+..#D,(20(2'#.(8"0&$..(#.(+L052(2'$(*#%%9$(07(2'$(7#72'(&$,25"6:E15 For my purposes,

13 See note 1 above for full citation.

14 See note 1 above for full citations.

15 @G"+,.70"*+2#0,(07(J+D+,(G$*89$.(#,20(I'5"&'$.(?E(257.

!"#$%$&'()*+,"+-,(."+.$/01"+("2(0&*+,2"&3*01"+(40!$(1+,0*55*01"+("2(*(.!6&.!(#10!1+(*( standing temple) would be unnecessarily restrictive for further consideration of temenoi appropriation generally and the transformation of spatial conceptions it might entail. In the case of Palestine, for example, there were no churches installed within standing temples to my knowledge. Why that is remains a question to consider, but in Palestine, nevertheless, churches did arise where temples once stood. Hanson does make an interesting suggestion, however, as to when the practice of converting standing temples into churches began:

It seems likely that the movement was initiated by a law of year 435. Hitherto the emperors both in the East and in the West had been reluctant to encourage the destruction of pagan monuments and had even forbidden the practice, more persistently in the West then in the East. But in that year a law of Theodosius II officially ordained the prohibition of all pagan cults and encouraged the destruction and transformation of temples and shrines by the Christians, their walls being purified by the s17+("2(0!$(8&",,9(:;$,0&6.01"+<(1+(0!1,(."+0$=0(3*>( mean no more than removal of furniture, decorations, statues and paintings.16

)*+,"+-,(#"&?'(0!$+'(!*,(!$5/$@(0"(.5*&12>(0!$(.!&"+"5"7>("2(0$3/5$(."+%$&,1"+,( and is an early attempt to synthesize the relevant data. Like much work on the subject, however, his places an undue emphasis on the ability of the imperial legislative evidence to reflect local situations. His concentration upon the phenomenon of churches constructed within standing temples is a helpful distinction, however, if only because this did not seem to have been considered a viable option before the mid-fifth century (a date that Hanson has pushed later than previous

16 Ibid., 263.

30 scholarship on the subject). Why this might have been the case is a question that his work then opens up.

With regard to this question, Hanson himself briefly suggests that Christians

!"#$%&%'(&)*+&,'!+(#-&(.&/'$0'(.&'12$/,('2+3,.'#2'(.&$/'(/$3)*.'#"&/'*!-!0$,)45',$06&'

(.&7'/&-!/%&%'(.&)'(#'8&'1!8#%&,'#2'2$+(.7'%&"$+,9517 But this is an awfully general statement and does not do justice to the complexity of responses. He then makes the

*#(&0($!++7'6#0(/!%$6(#/7',(!(&)&0(:'1;.!('(.&'2$/,('$)*3+,&'#2'<./$,($!0,'=!,'(#'*3++' down and destroy pagan temples, and that this was the earliest policy followed

(#=!/%,'(.&)4'(.&/&'6!0'8&'0#'%#38(9518 Such a characterization is not uncommon in scholarship on this subject and unnecessarily inflates a few local instances to the level of global explanation.

Even several of the examples he gives to illustrate this point are not as clear-cut as he makes them out to be.19 >0'(.&'6!,&'#2'<#0,(!0($0&?,'2#/&/300&/'(#'(.&'present

Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem, it is not at all clear that there was an existing temple on the site his church was to occupy (let alone to which deity it was dedicated). At

Mamre, another Constantinian undertaking, evidence suggests that, instead of

1&@$,($0-'(&)*+&'83$+%$0-,'A8&$0-B'6#)*+&(&+7'%&,(/#7&%45'(.&/&'=&/&'#0+7'!'03)8&/' of altars that required removal before a church could be constructed. The case of the burning of the temple of Apollo at Daphne outside Antioch isCas even he describes itCnot a case of a general Christian impulse to pull down temples, but a specific

17 Ibid., 257.

18 Ibid., 258.

19 See ibid., 258-60.

!"#$%&#"'(%'()"'*+$"!%!',-./0&1#'!"+%20.'%3'()"'+0!(4!'5064.0#1'6%&"#. In Gaza, even the hagiographic account of the destruction of the Marneion in the Life of

Porphyry of Gaza by Mark the Deacon, recounts that the emperor Arcadius refused

B/#)%$'7%!$)4!41#'!"8-"#('3%!'()"'("+$."1#'!"+%20.'9()"':0;0"0&#'<"!"'=%%>' taxpayers, he said). The fact that the empress Eudoxia eventually granted him permission and the military aid to carry it out should not be construed as an indication of a consistent imperial policy to destroy temples. And finally, the riot that arose in the wake of B/#)%$'?)"%$)/.-#1'>"#"@!0(/%&'%3'()"'("+$."'%3'A/%&4#%#'/&'

Alexandria was precisely the sort of thing local magistrates tried to avoid at all costs.

So, I would argue, again with Kinney, that even given the examples we have of temple destruction, there is no indication of either a general Christian impulse or imperial policy to destroy temples.

In all fairness to Hanson though, the focus of his work lies beyond this early period and cases of destruction. What is important about his article is the fact that he sheds light on the preservationBrather than destructionBof temples, namely in the altered form of churches.20 C0&#%&1#'0!(/@."'#-$$."+"&(#'0&>'!"0##"##"#'

A"/@)+0&&1#'catalog of temple conversions. However, he is primarily concerned with establishing a chronology: when temples were first converted into churches.

From this question, however, he is able to conclude that, not only are there no examples of standing temples becoming churches before the fifth century, it was not

20 Ibid., 260.

32 a wide-spread practice even after 435 (his chosen watershed date).21 He then

!"#$"!%$"&'()"'(*'+"#,-.%))/&'0(ints that temple buildings did not really make for good churches. This leads him to another helpful suggestion that other scholars will

1"2"3(0'*4!$-"!5'67$'&"".&'%&'#*'$-e Christians were ready to take over secular buildings as churches rather earlier than they felt themselves free to adapt pagan

$".03"&8922

:%!$-';(<1")/&'%!$#,3"='6>#&-(0&'%)1'?".03"&'#)'$-"'@%&$"!)'A(.%)'@.0#!"'B8+8'

320-CDE=9',()"!&'$-"'1#**"!#)F'!(3"s that civil and ecclesiastical administrators had in the response to temples.23 He is interested in the people who were involved rather than

$-"'"G%.03"&'(*'&#$"&8'?('%'3%!F"'"G$")$='-"'

$-%$'&"!#(4&'!"&#&$%),"'$('$-"'*#)%3'04&-'<%&'(4$'(*'$-"'H4"&$#()8924 He goes on, then, to try to untangle the role of bishops in all this despite their near invisibility in the edicts of the

Codex Theodosianus (which are generally addressed to the Praetorian Prefect). Only in

407/8 is any authority explicitly given to bishops for the suppression of polytheist rites

(6I"'F!%)$'$('J#&-(0&'%3&('(*'&4,-'03%,"&'$-"'!#F-$'$('4&"'",,3"&#%&$#,%3'0(<"!'$('0!(-#Jit

&4,-'0!%,$#,"&925), and up to the end of the fourth century many officials were polytheists, making the pursuit of anti-polytheist legislation a very complex affair. Bishops in the east

21 Ibid., 265.

22 Ibid., 266.

23 See note 1 above for full citation.

24 6>#&-(0&'%)1'?".03"&,9 53.

25 CT 16.10.19 in ibid., 53.

33 were simply not given the level of local authority that they might have in the west. Law

!"#$%&#'&$("$)*'$'!+)$,!+$-!(")!("'#$./$)*'$'-0'&%&1+$%22(3(!4+5$6&!"+()(%"$0'&(%#+7$ however, often led to the breaking of established patterns.

In addition, Fowden points out that the tenure of office of civil officials was short and thus only emperors and bishops could evolve long-)'&-$0%4(3('+$89)*'$3!"%"+$2%&.!#'$)*'$

.(+*%0$)%$-%:'$2&%-$+''$)%$+'';<5$6*=+, situations could arise in which a bishop with the de facto !=)*%&()/$!-%">$4%3!4+$93%=4#$("$'22'3)$)!?'$%:'&$)*'$("()(!)(:'$)*!t in law

.'4%">'#$)%$)*'$4!/$!&-5;26 The case of Bishop Marcellus and the temple of Zeus at

Apamea (ca. 386) is the first time we know of a bishop playing a leading role in the destruction of a temple. Marcellus, however, was subsequently murdered for his actions.27

@%,#'"$>%'+$%"$)%$#(+3=++$)*'$%)*'&$2!-%=+$9)'-04'-.!+*'&+;A$6*'%0*(4=+7$.(+*%0$%2$

Alexandria, and the destruction of the Serapeum in 391 and other Egyptian temples;

B!&)("$%2$6%=&1+$!))!3?+$%"$+!"3)=!&('+$("$3'")&!4$C!=4$8DEF-397); Porphyry of Gaza and

)*'$#'+)&=3)(%"$%2$)*'$)'-04'$%2$G'=+$B!&"!(%+$!&%="#$HIJK$!"#$L%*"$M*&/+%+)%-1+$

4'!#'&+*(0$("$)*'$#'+)&=3)(%"$%2$)'-04'+$("$N*%'"(3(!$8)*'$+3%0'$%2$@%,#'"1+$!&)(34'$#%'+$ not extend beyond 435). Fowden traces the evidence we have for the gradual co"+%4(#!)(%"$%2$)*'$'!+)'&"$.(+*%01+$de facto authority. He is careful to point out,

*%,':'&7$)*!)$+=3*$!=)*%&()/$"':'&$9+=0'&+'#'#$)*'$2="3)(%"+$%2$)*'$4!/$!=)*%&()/7$':'"$!)$

)*'$4%3!4$4':'45;28

26 Ibid., 54-58.

27 Ibid., 64-66.

28 Ibid., 77.

Helen Saradi-!"#$%&%'()(*+(#+,"-+.-/()&"+01,-(2/(.#+3//(/4$"2+toward Pagan

!%#45"#/2+(#+6./"+3#/(74(/8+.#$+9,"(-+6":.)8+(#+6./"-+;8<.#/(#"+1"#/4-("2*=29 seeks to reform the image of a militant Christian majority who sought only for the erasure of its

Classical past:

in late Antiquity Christians also had a positive attitude toward pagan 5%#45"#/2>?+@%2/(&(/8+/%A.-$+B.:.#+5%#45"#/2+A.2+C.-+C-%5+D"(#:+.+:"#"-.&+ phenomenon, an officially adopted policy of the Christian state or of the Church. In many instances classical monuments fell into decay merely because they had been abandoned, whereas in other instances they were actually preserved, either because they had been transformed for Christian use or because of their artistic value.30

Only six pagan sites are attested as having been attacked by Christians at the time of Constantine. In all cases, extremely important reasons had dictated these actions.31

!%2/+%C+/,"+.//.)E2>+.-"+.//"2/"$+C%-+/,"+"#$+%C+/,"+C%4-/,+)"#/4-8+.#$+)%(#)($"+ with the oppressive measures taken by Theodosius I. It would seem that the Church merely responded to an initiative of the state.32

This last quote, however, is an example of how Saradi-!"#$%&%'()(F2+.BB-%.), is sometimes to shift the initiative for destruction away from ecclesiastical leadership and onto the makers of imperial policy. She draws a necessary analogy, though, between

Christian attitudes toward monuments from the past and their attitudes toward Classical

&(/"-./4-"G+0H"2B(/"+/,"+'.-(%42+A.-#(#:2+%C+/,"+$.#:"-2+%C+B.:.#+&(/"-./4-"+C%-+

1,-(2/(.#2>+1,-(2/(.#+.4/,%-2+#"'"-+)".2"$+2/4$8(ng classical texts and using them as

29 See note 1 above for full citation.

30 01,-(2/(.#+3//(/4$"2+/%A.-$+I.:.#+!%#45"#/2,= 47.

31 Ibid., 48 n 14. I will discuss potential reasons for attacks on these six sites in chapter 4.

32 Ibid.

!"#$%&!'()*(+!(,$,)#)!-./33 She then points out a shift in scholarship that follows upon

)0,'1(23!'%,)!(#&&()0!(-,44!5!67!'()0#)('!%#5#)!-()0!()8*(95*:%';()0!(,6)!5#7),*6(+!)8!!6( them was extremely important. In recent years scholars have tended to emphasize the physical coexistence of pagans and Christians and the mutual influences of the two

7:&):5!'($*5!(')5*69&<()0#6()0!,5(7*64&,7)'(#6-(-,44!5!67!'./34

=*('#<;(0*8!>!5;()0#)(2?6($#6<(,6')#67!'(7&#'',7#&($*6:$!6)'(4!&&(,nto decay merely

+!7#:'!()0!<(0#-(+!!6(#+#6-*6!-/(,'(#6(*>!5',$%&,4,7#),*6(*4()0!(%*'',+&!(',):#),*6'(#6-( reduces polytheists to an invisible presence. Abandoning a temple was not a casual occurrence. It meant that the office of temple curator and the priesthood were no longer occupied, or had no de facto power. Authorities had halted this avenue for maintenance of a specific sacred compound, and funds for such a project would have been directed elsewhere. While Saradi-Mendolovici is only saying that such monuments could also fall apart due to neglect, instead of violence, such neglect did not simply happen. Civic leaders might well have found themselves with a difficult situation on their hands. On the one hand, they did not wish to remove what was more oft!6()0#6(6*)()0!,5(7,)<@'(4,6!')( ornamentation. On the other hand, such structures were built in honor of a now discredited worldview. Even allowing a temple to remain abandoned represented some form of policy. Also, redirecting the initiative from the church to the state does not remove the issues of religious tension, which were very much factors in imperial policy.

Such points of criticism, however, do not undermine the importance of Saradi-

A!6-*&*>,7,@'(#5),7&!.(?)(,'(#(6!7!''#5<(#6-(':')#,6!-()5!#)$!6)(on the topic and goes a

33 Ibid., 60.

34 Ibid., 48.

36 long way to redress the skewed perspective on Late Antique religious change as necessarily violent.

Jean-Michel Spieser has written extensively on the changes that occurred in the Late

Antique city, including the Christianization of temples.35 He has greatly expanded upon

!"#$%&'(()*+#(#,#'-+*./0"1+23+,"&4-"+$2(0"/*#2(*+#(+5/""$"6+7(+,%#*+#(3-."(,#'-+82/9,

Spieser has come to the surprising conclusion that such practices were neither the result of anti-polytheist tactics nor even a manifestation of Christian triumph, but were instead a late phenomenon (in Greece at least) that arose in the wake of invasions that severely limited land availability.36 :"+8/#,"*;+<=%"/"+'/"+3"8+,/'$"*+23+$2(3/2(,',#2(+>",8""(+ pagans and Christians over san$,.'/#"*+#(+5/""$"?+,%"+@%/#*,#'(*+A"*,/21"A+3"8+,"&4-"*6+

Even when they did so, the site of the destroyed temple was avoided and no church was

>.#-,+#(+#,*+4-'$";+*'0"+#(+,%"+B.#,"+"C$"4,#2('-+$'*"+',+D'-"242-#*+2(+@2/3.6E+7(*,"'A;+<8"+ observe [in Greece] the collapse of the traditional religion well before the triumph of

@%/#*,#'(#,1;E+A."+,2+#(0'*#2(*+3/2&+,%"+(2/,%+>"F#((#(F+8#,%+,%',+23+,%"+:"/$.-#+#(+,%"+ second half of the third century.37

In those cases where temples have fallen out of use long before Christians appropriated them (and, in the case of the temple of Zeus at Olympus, long before even the initiatives of Constantine), Spieser is clear that such changes made to a temple to

'$$2&&2A',"+'+$%./$%+<$'(+#(+(2+8'1+>"+*""(+'*+'(1+*2/,+23+G/"*42(*") to the pagan

35 His work has recently been collected, some of it in English translation, in a Variorum volume entitled Urban and Religious Spaces in Late Antiquity and Early Byzantium. See note 1 above for full citation.

36 <=%"+@%/#*,#'(*',#2(+23+D'F'(+H'($,.'/#"*+#(+5/""$";E+#(+#>#A6;+I76JK-13.

37 Ibid., VI.13.

!"#$%"&'()*+(!,)!(-!(-.(/*0!(!,"("1$2"..-0*(03()*4($20305*+(-*!"*!-0*&(65!(-.(!0(6"(

"1$%)-*"+(64(2").0*.(03(70*8"*-"*7"&(-3(*0!("70*0#49'38 The existence of modest early

:,2-.!-)*(2"#)-*.(/;-8"(*0(-#$2"..-0*(03()*4("1$2"..-0*(03(!2-5#$,(-*(02+er to humiliate an adversary whose defeat was nearly or already complete, rather, they corresponded to the needs of communities whose size must not be exaggerated. In any case, the temples were ruined by time and lack of upkeep more than by any systematic, willful

+".!257!-0*9'39

<".$-!"(!,"(=5.!-3-)6%"(-*3%5"*7"(03(>$-"."2?.(@02A(0*(:,2-.!-)*-B)!-0*()*+(!"#$%"( conversions, commentators have been quick to point out that this work, and its conclusions, is limited to Greece, where the situation was not indicative of other imperial provinces. One fact (which Spieser mentions) that may mitigate the strength of his conclusions concerns the nature of archaeology at the great sanctuaries of Classical

Greece. A great deal of this work was carried out in the early days of systematic excavations and at a time when the interests of the investigators did not extend beyond the Classical layers. In those cases, Late Antique stratigraphy was ignored and discarded.

ThusCand Spieser is clear about thisCwe simply do not know specifics about the potential Christian transformation of many of these cultic centers. Based on the evidence available, however, his observations go a long way to help dispel easy claims to triumphalism. And like Saradi-Mendolovici, Spieser does a great deal to dismiss the image of confrontation; yet, Spieser goes further by suggesting that, in the case of Greece, limited land availability necessitated the majority of temple reuses.

38 Ibid., VI.6-7.

39 Ibid., VI.10.

!"#$%&'()*&&+$%',$-.(/010(23345(The Survival of Roman Antiquities in the Middle

Ages5(&67&+8.(7$&(8".#9.."3+(3:(7&;<'&(*&9.&(73("+#'98&(7$&(*&9.&(=>.9*?"?%'@A(3:(any type of structure or monument from the Classical periodBreligious and secular (temples, villas, tombs, palaces, theaters, baths, arches, aqueducts). His concerns here, however, center on western Europe in the Middle Ages, although he does attempt to present general

<%77&*+.("+(2&$%?"3*(73C%*8(7&;<'&.(:*3;(7$&(7";&(3:(D3+.7%+7"+&E()*&&+$%',$-.( tendency, like that of Saradi-Mendolovici, is to emphasize Christian preservation rather than destruction of the Classical past. The specific sites in the West that he discusses are less relevant for my purposes though than the broader conclusions he draws from them. In fact, most of his book falls outside of the purview of this project. For example, given his

'3+,&*(*%+,&(.#3<&5()*&&+$%',$(#%+(<97(:3*7$(7$%7(>F+(2%'%+#&5(<&*$%<.5(7$&(D$9*#$(

<*37&8(="+(3+&(C%G(3*(%+37$&*A(;3*&(%+7"H9"7"&.(7$%+("7(32'"7&*%7&8I(.3;&(%+7"H9&(."7&.(

3C&8(C$%7(#3+7"+9"+,('":&(7$&*&(C%.(73(7$&(D$9*#$E@40 Of course, as opposed to the work of other scholars reviewed here, Greenhalgh is only addressing the preservation of buildings and not religious practices (such as those that constitute Greco-Roman

Religion).

Greenhalgh relies heavily on imperial legislation when discussing attitudes in Late

Antiquity toward Classical-period structures. In reference to the law that calls for temples to remain open for aesthetic reasons as long as there are no sacrifices or other celebrations

40 Survival of Roman Antiquities, 90. For instance, we owe the preservation of the Athenian Parthenon, Erechtheion, and Theseion, and the Roman Curia and Pantheon to church reuse.

39 therein (CT 16.10.18), Greenha!"#$%&'$%$()*)&&%+,$-.)&/01(2$34%&$&056!)$)(/+%(*)$%(7$

0(&6)*/01($/#)+)81+)$%!!14)79:41 What would a city do with such empty structures?

;+%('$<+15=!),$#%&$4+0//)($/#%/>$3<#)$6)+5%()(*)$18$+)!0"01.&$07)%&$!0)&$0($&15)$ sense in the permanence of their outward forms, that is, in scriptures, sculpture, buildings,

6%0(/0(">$!0/.+"0*%!$?)&&)!&>$%(7$+0/.%!@:42 A)$*0/)&$B!0881+7$C))+/DE&$8%51.&$)&&%,>$

3F)!0"01($%&$%$B.!/.+%!$G,&/)5>:$%&$/#)$&1.+*)$18$/#0&$/#)1+,@$H#0!)$I$*%($1(!,$%&&.5)$ that Trombley is referring to C))+/DE&$70&*.&&01($18$*.!/.+%!$6%//)+(&$1+$&,5=1!&$%&$ models of and models for %$3+)%!0/,>:$C+))(#%!"#E&$")()+%!$*1(*!.&01($*1(*)+(0("$1()$18$ these outward formsJthe templeJ*%&/&$%($0(/)+)&/0("$&#%714$.61($<+15=!),E&$*!%05@$

C+))(#%!"#$4+0/)&2$3<#)$G/%/)$sought to destroy paganism but to preserve the structures

/#)5&)!?)&>$)0/#)+$81+$6.=!0*$.&)$18$*#.+*#$.&)@:43 Perhaps, then, we are dealing less with the simple persistence of outward forms (such as buildings or sculpture) than the control of practices in relation to them. Temples did continue to exist, as Trombley, Greenhalgh, and others have been at pains to show, but new curators assigned them new functionality.

C+))(#%!"#E&$41+'>$%&$71$%!!$/#1&)$&.+?),)7$#)+)>$=+0("&$.6$/#)$-.)&/01($18$4#%/$ terms are most representative of issues surrounding temple conversions in Late Antiquity.

For instance, when he mentions the legislation that calls for turning over buildings used by heretics to church use (CT 16.5.43), this raises the question of whether the larger issue at hand might be better framed not as one of Christianity versus Greco-Roman polytheism, but orthopraxis versus heteropraxis. Included, at least, in this general

41 Ibid., 91.

42 Hellenic Religion and Christianization, 2.382.

43 Survival of Roman Antiquities, 92.

40 tendency to regulate religious practices are those forms of Christianity deemed heretical, as well as, of course, all forms of Judaism. (Judaism, however, was not perceived as nearly the pressing threat that cultic activity centering around animal sacrifice was.) An

!"#$%!&'()$*%$$(!++,$)(-#%!'(./01(23%(!4+5&4*$1(6$7!4+(68("$45!34!47(95:$()$*%$es by which we have restrained the spirit and boldness of the abominable pagans, Jews, and

:$%$5!*+;(

In addition, is the language of military triumph the most representative of Late

Antique attitudes toward such events? Greenhalgh comments on the very important law

5:&5(+5&5$+(5:&5(5$"#'$+(&%$(53(6$(9#,%!2!$)(68(5:$($%$*5!34(32(5:$(+!74(32(5:$(=$4$%&6'$(

>:%!+5!&4(%$'!7!34;(

5:$(3')(73)+B;45 The issue Greenhalgh is really raising here is an importantCand disputedCone: do the fragments of statuary and temple construction materials found in church walls and foundations serve ritual, symbolic, or more mundane practical purposes? I also mention it, however, as simply one of myriad scholarly references to religious triumph in this period. Contemporary ecclesiastical literature, though, also presents such issues using the terms of philosophy (truth versus falsehood) and anthropology (pollution), in addition, of course, to the language of power and domination.

44 CT DEBFB/EG(H,35$)(!4(I3J$%+3*K1(9L3'85:$!+"(&4)(M3435:$!+"1;(0B

45 Greenhalgh, Survival of Roman Antiquities, 93.

!"##$%&'(%)*+,-$,'.*/-$*+,-$,#"$/$(+0%#+,%ronology of temple conversions is consistent with recent scholarship:

The popular picture of the immediate transformation of temples into Christian churches in Western Europe is wrong, as far as we can judge from the evidence left by archaeologists who ig$-"#1+'&0#"+'&2#"*3+4%#+5"&,0/,#+-6+,-$7#"0/$(+ temples was not, perhaps, general in Europe until the old religion was no longer seen as a menace to Christianity. Few conversions in Central Italy definitely antedate the seventh century, and most are probably much later. Further south and east, however, temples were apparently converted even earlier than the fifth c.46

One minor issue I might raise, however, is his characterization of Constantinian

8%"/*0/&$/02+&*+&+9,.'0+:/0%-.0+/;&(#*<=47 He brings this up within the context of a discussion of the legislation that cal'#1+6-"+0%#+"#;-7&'+-6+*0&0.#*+>9/;&(#*=? from temples. This he claims is consistent with a supposedly aniconic Constantinian

Christianity. It is not clear how aniconic Christian practice was in this period. While we might assume that no statuary was used, that does not mean that other images, such as those made in mosaic or paint, were not part of some Christian practice.

@#"%&5*+!"##$%&'(%)*+;-*0+.*#6.'+,-$0"/A.0/-$+0-+0%#+;-"#+'/;/0#1+5"-B#,0+-f temple conversion is his inclusion of non-cultic buildings in the discussion. He points out that we

*%-.'1+1/*0/$(./*%+0#;5'#*+6"-;+9$#.0"&'=+A./'1/$(*+>#<(

These, he claims, were more quickly converted into churches because they presented less of a threat.48 Unfortunately, Greenhalgh does not really substantiate this claim (other than pointing out that Helena in 326 gave the bishop of Trier the imperial palace [or part of it] in order to construct a church). Nor does he go any further into the mechanics of

46 Ibid., 94.

47 Ibid., 93.

48 Ibid., 94.

42 contamination, or address the common topos in Late Antique Christian literature of the evils of the theaters and baths. In addition, Frank Trombley, whom I will discuss below, makes the completely opposite claim that temples, as opposed to any other structures in the cityscape, were the least risky structures to convert because they were becoming obsolete in the new economic fabric of cities and thus, in the eyes of the new Christian leadership, they were now available spaces.

Greenhalgh bases this assumption upon the fact that in Rome, for example, the earliest churches were located outside the city walls and none were built in the Roman

Forum until the sixth century. He writes that, !"#$#%&$#'()*#+,-#.(+/.!("01#(2##3( avai-02-#(2/!'(43.!#05'(3#/!$0-(.!$/6!/$#.(7#$#(6"&.#38949 This assumes, of course, that churches could only be built in or on previous buildings, which is simply not the case.

(See Chapter 4 for a critique of this explanation of the situation in Rome) In addition, in the East, sometimes temple sites were chosen precisely because they were threatening and their perceived demonic presence needed to be combated.

There is no doubt that temples came to be seen by many Christians as dangerous, polluted places. This, however, was not why churches were built elsewhere. They were built elsewhere usually because there remained a strong polytheist presence in the city to resist the changes (supposedly the case in Rome) or the city magistrates were reluctant to remove from view structures that played such a major role in the decorative scheme of their city (which was also the case in Rome). Perhaps Greenhalgh would agree with this.

He does provide a necessary widening of the context within which to understand

49 Ibid., 94-95. I will discuss this misconception about early church building in Rome in chapter 4.

Christian attitudes toward temples, since they made up only a part of the entire built environment. But more work needs to be done to understand why temples were or were not transformed. Similar to the production of texts, the construction of churches are likely best understood as being contingent upon local, idiosyncratic circumstances.50

Jean-Pierre Caillet too has looked at the reformation of public buildings (including but not limited to temples) into churches up to the seventh century.51 He comments on how such changes can be seen as a way of satisfying a wish to safeguard the urban environment and, like Greenhalgh, goes through the various types of structures that we know became Christian complexes. He notes, however, that the conversion into churches of baths, civic !"#$%$&"#'(")*(+,*$-$&,#(.-(#/,&0"&%,1($)(/"20$&3%"2(#,,4#(0.(*,).0,("(%,5,%( of disaffection with traditional civic life, a change in mentality.52 And contrary to other commentators (such as Saradi-Mendolovici), Caillet claims that the evidence strongly sug6,#0#(07"0'(,5,)(!8(07,(0$4,(.-(93#0$)$")'(+")&$,)0(/2"&0$&,#(")*(07,$2("2&7$0,&032"%(

"&&.4/")$4,)0#(7"*().0(3)$-.24%8(-"%%,)($)0.(*$#3#,:153 Caillet though, of course, has in mind a much wider array of buildings than Saradi-Mendolovici, who focuses more on explicitly religious artifacts.

Caillet makes the important (but deceivingly simple) point that, of the temples that were completely destroyed, it was not long before a church was erected on that same

50 This analogy was drawn for me by Ross S. Kraemer.

51 +;"(02")#-.24"0$.)(,) église.1

52 Ibid., 193-94.

53 Ibid., 194. In contrast, Saradi-<,)*.%.5$&$(=2$0,#>(+?)(-"&0'(#,5,2"%(#.32&,#(#366,#0(07"0(4.#0(.-(07,( temples were gradually decaying, not because of Christian attacks, but because they had already been "!")*.),*1(@+A72$#0$")(B00$03*,#(0.="2*(C"6")(<.)34,)0#'1(DEF:

44 site.54 Thus, in those cases where the temple structure is more or less fully removed, such sites were rededicated as Christian basilicas. The site of the supposed temple of

Aphrodite in Jerusalem became that of the Holy Sepulcher; the place of the Marneion at

Gaza became the Basilica Eudoxiana; the plot that the temple of Dionysos had occupied in Jerash became the Cathedral. This was not as likely to be the case when a temple was only robbed or cut-off from funding and then abandoned. Total destruction, by fire and/or disassembling, seems to have rendered the site suitable for consecration. This is an important observation that deserves further study. What actions were deemed necessary to render a site usable?

!"#$%&'(#)*&'+,$-#"(.&(/,"(0,1&(2'#0(3,-44&$5*("60&'#6*(&7,084&*(-*($%,$, oftentimes in temple complexes that remained more or less intact, the courtyard was more amenable to basilical construction than the temple cellas themselves. This may have been as much a matter of architectural necessity as an avoidance of the impurities associated with the altar and cult statue. An example of such a case may be the Church of Mary

Theotokos built into the gymnasium/propylaeum of the Hadrianeum in Ephesus.

In the end, Caillet concludes what others have, namely that it appears that the conversion of temples was not a systematic enterprise (nor was their destruction). The exceptional cases where there was violent destruction resulted from an unusually high level of antagonism between religious communities. The first urban churches tended to be built elsewhere. Primarily, $%&"9($&084&*(.&'&(/#"*-:&'&:(2#'(;/#"*&'+,$-#"<(-"($%&(/,*&(

54 ;=,($',"*2#'0,$-#"(&" église,<196.

!"#$%&#'!()$*+'$,!(#!"#-#',$./)#)&'!(0-*.#'%+*'%&)1#2+'%#'-)&)#$%-$#'-(#3�-$&0#!''+**&0# primarily in the fifth century.55

4*-(5#6*!738&./)#9!*5#!(#$&7:8&#'!nversions is set within his two-volume study

(which is itself monumental) of various facets of Christianization in the eastern

Mediterranean.56 His study, like all those surveyed here, is extremely data rich and builds upon those of Friedrich Deichmann.57 Trombley brings an unprecedented level of detail, particularly in the form of inscriptional evidence, and roots all of his analysis in local contexts. He writes:

The periodic claims of emperors like Theodosius II that pagans no longer lived in the Christian oikoumene, or of churchmen like Theodoret of Cyrrhus that the 7&7!*.#!"#$%&#;"-8)&8.-(-7&0#

The historian must decide whether it is his task to deconstruct the ideas of Christian writers or to unravel the behavioral and cultural attitudes of a silent peasantry that are expressed only indirectly in his text.59

The analysis of the epigraphy of individual villages demonstrates the pace and regional character of Christianization. Such a method is much more revealing than schemes such as generalizing from sundry a priori and qualitative judgements about the statements of hagiographic authors.60

55 Ibid., 201-2.

56 Hellenic Religion and Christianization.

57 See note 1 above for citations.

58 Hellenic Religion and Christianization, 2.380.

59 Ibid., 2.381.

60 Ibid., 2.383-84.

Trombley, then, is interested in the very difficult question of how Christianization was manifested in the general population. Such an approach raises the issue of how to recognize Christianization in the material and literary evidence; what constitutes discrete religious change?

Given the fine-grained quality of his research and command of the various genres of potential historiographical evidence, it is surprising that, when he turns to those specific

!"#$%&!'()*+,*(-.(*+$(/+&&0'-1#-!($.'-(,&!#1&2(-*!('.,+#&3(!,.4.$+,3(#45(#5$+4+'-1#-+6!( mechanisms which cont1+70-!5(-.(-*!(8*1+'-+#4+9#-+.4(.:(-*!(;#'-!14(<.$#4(;$%+1!3=61 he should choose (like Fowden) the famously-fanatical activities of the bishops Marcellus

(at Apamea) and Theophilus (at Alexandria), and the smashing of the statue of Allat at

Palymra. By his own reckoning, these were the violent responses of Christian zealots, all taking place between 388 and 391. Surely this small cluster of well-known>and extreme>,#'!'(%1!'!4-(#4(044!,!''#1+&2(5+'-.1-!5(6+!)(.:(-*!(/$!,*#4+'$'()*+,*( contributed to Christiani9#-+.4?=(@#05#7&23(-*.0A*3(B1.$7&!2(+'(-12+4A(-.(5.($.1!(-*#4(

1!6+!)(-*!(/$#-!1+#&(%*!4.$!4#(.:(-!$%&!(,.46!1'+.4'=(72(#4#&29+4A(-*!('.,+#&(,.4-!"-(

.:('0,*(+4,+5!4-'?(C4(%#1-+,0 (*!(+'(+4-!1!'-!5(+4(-*!(/7!*#6+.1#&(#45(!,.4.$+,( significance of these eve4-'?=62

B1.$7&!2(+'($.'-(*!&%:0&(+4(*+'(!''#2(!4-+-&!5(/B*!(D.,+#&(8.4-!"-(.:(B!$%&!(

8.46!1'+.4'?=63 Here he touches upon the range of known fates of temples and offers helpful analyses of the phenomenon.

61 Ibid., 1.122.

62 Ibid., 1.111.

63 Ibid., 1.108-22.

!"#$%#&'$(%#')*#$+,-.#&/0,-12demolition or partial dismantling of a sacred edifice and its modification into a church of martyrion2was the logical consequence of the theological tendency to recategorize pagan deities into destructive daimones.64

the demolition of the old buildings to make way for Christian 34/0*0+4/5$ became a particular necessity when local bishops desired to erect churches within the city walls, where large lots were seldom available amidst the public buildings and areas such as the council-chamber and agora (a social and economic necessity), the large town houses of the decurion class, and the tenements which housed the folk of the absolutely essential artisan and food- "4-6*0-7$+*4//#/58$6#',*0%0,-$,9$%"#/#$3:0*60-7/$;%#')*#/<$),/#6$%"#$9#=#/%$ economic risks to the community out of all the possibilities.65

>/$?$/%4%#6$43,.#@$%"0/$+,-+*:/0,-$+,-%&4/%/$A&##-"4*7"B/$+*40'$%"4%$other, non-cultic buildings were more available than temples. Trombley points out in a footnote that this

(=4/$)#&"4)/$,-#$,9$%"#$',/%$0'),&%4-%$94+%,&/$*#9%$:-/%4%#6$0-$the sources that lay behind

%"#$6#',*0%0,-$,9$%"#$7%$%#')*#/$0-$>)4'#4@$A4C4@$4-6$>)"&,60/04/8166

Trombley also discusses the Christian notion, expressed first by Eusebius in relation to temple conversions, that sacrifices conferred ritual pollution not only through contact with the offerings themselves but also, by extension, through contact with associated building materials and even the underlying soil.67 !"#&#$0/$4$/#-/#$0-$D:/#30:/B$4++,:-%$,9$

%"#$(#E+4.4%0,-1$:-6#&%4F#-$)&0,&$%,$%"#$+,-/%&:+%0,-$,9 the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem that such material was treated in ways similar to modern treatments of nuclear waste.

G#&#@$",=#.#&@$?$%"0-F$!&,'3*#H$=&,-7*H$4/+&03#/$%,,$':+"$,9$%"0/$%,$(I,-/%4-%0-#$%"#$

64 Ibid., 1.108.

65 Ibid., 1.109-10.

66 Ibid., 1.110 n 43.

67 Ibid., 1.113. See Eusebius Vita Constantini 3.27-28.

!"#$%&'()*+(+)%,)+'()-(.,%/"0,1$.(-)"2$.,'2($+3('/4#"'%,%,)+56("$%7#"(%7$+(%7#("7#%)",1()-( his panegyrist, Eusebius. Thus, *7#+(7#(*",%#'(8/'%($-%#"(%7,'(%7$%(9"#/',+0('4).,$()-("$:#3( temples might theoretically pose the danger to a pious Christian of pollution by the daimones ,+7#",+0(,+(%7#('4).,$6;an id#$(*7,17(7#(%#"2'(9<)+'%$+%,+,$+6;he neglects to mention the equally Constantinian practice of decorating the hippodrome of

<)+'%$+%,+)4.#($+3(%",/247$.($"17(,+(=)2#(*,%7(8/'%('/17(94$0$+('4).,$>668

?")2@.#A&'(*)"B5(%7)/075(,'(C#"A(/'#-/.(-)"($+A(1)+',3#"ation falling under the rubric

<7"',%,$+,:$%,)+5(4$"%,1/.$".A(-)"(,%'(0.,24'#'()-(%7,'(4")1#''(9)+(%7#(0")/+3>6(D+(%#24.#( conversions generally he offers insights into economic and ritual status considerations, but is uncharacteristically less than thorough in his survey of representative sites.

An increasing number of scholars have been working on the related topic of spolia.69

Spolia can mean the relocation of classical statuary as well as the reuse of building materials. The former has an unquestionably message-driven motive (such as the statuary that Constantine had shipped in to adorn his capital), while the latter may just as likely be

68 E(*,..("#%/"+(%)(F/'#@,/'&($11)/+%()-(%7#(1)+'%"/1%,)+()-(%7#(G).A(H#4/.17#"(,+(17$4%#"'(I(and 4.

69 F>0>5((H1)%%5(#3>5(The Art of Interpreting (Dept. of Art History, the Pennsylvania State University, 1995) 53-SIP(E.#+#(\)"'A%75(9K"%(*,%7(G,'%)"AQ(?7#(=).#()-(Spolia in the Cumulative Work of K"%56(,+(<7",'%)47#"(J)''($+3(Katherine Kiefer, eds., Byzantine East and Latin West: Art Historical Studies in Honor of Kurt Weitzmann (Princeton, NJ: Dept. of Art and Archaeology, Princeton University, 1995) 153-OWP(]$^(F.'+#"5(9\")2(%7#(

49 fated for no other purpose than to remain as a support behind a newly-constructed wall

(although one could argue that this could serve apotropaic or triumphalist purposes). One is meant to be seen by fellow citizens, one is not (although it may be known to be there).

The problem here, however, is one of interpretation. How is it possible to know what the motives for such activity were? A possible complication to this dichotomy, however, may be the many cases of columns being relocated from dismantled temples to the interior

(ritual) space of Christian basilicas. In these situations, temple building materials are consciously displayed in new, Christian settings. In chapter 4, I will discuss further a few of these works on spolia as they relate to the issue of the removal of cultic and other

!"#"$#%&'(%)*'!)*+')('",+'+*-.%+/!'*#0)%'"+*-1+!'under Constantine in order to adorn his new capital.

Béatrice Caseau has been the most thorough of recent commentators on Late Antique architectural transformations. Not only is her work data-rich, but she has also made the most substantial contributions to explanations of such evidence. Both of her main

"%+#"*+2"!')('",+'!$30+4"5'67#4%+8'9#28!4#-+!:'#28'6!"#$%$&'()&*"&+: La

8;!#4%#1.<#".)2'8+!'+!-#4+!'+"'8+!')30+"!'%+1.=.)$>'-#?+2!'8$%#2"'1/#2".@$.";'"#%8.A+5:70 are magisterial. In the latter, she looks also at Christian attitudes toward polytheistic religious statuary, noting that Constantine had inaugurated a new relationship by installing some of the finest works in public places in Constantinople, which she marks as the beginning of the desacralization of such representations of deities.71 Statues once consecrated to deities now adorned fora, baths, and villas as works of aesthetic value. Such activity, interpreted

70 See note 1 above for full citations.

71 6!"#$%$&'()&*"&+,: 121.

50 by church historians as a means of debasing and ridiculing the gods, did in certain communities take the place of more radical temple destruction.72

Caseau notes that, after this period of secularization and destruction of some temples and their contents in the fourth and early fifth centuries, there followed a profound transformation in taste. Temples were no longer repaired, their sites progressively invested with church buildings. Antique statuary found few connoisseurs/preservationists among the urban population, its function having been radically transformed, even in the case of commemorative works. Caseau reiterates Cyril Mango!"#$%&'(#)*&)#)*+#,+&%#-,+&.# in the period, however, was not the conversion of Constantine, but the series of catastrophes in the seventh and eighth centuries that disrupted social and cultural life.73

Nevertheless, she wishes to point out that there were changes in taste and attitudes during the fourth to sixth centuries.

Caseau too, though, struggles with the question of whether the destruction of polytheist artifacts was a marginal or common phenomenon and asks how much the religious violence is a bias o/#01,#"01,$+"2#3+,#$04$%1"'04#'"#)*&)#5)*+#,+%'6'01"#7'0%+4$+#

8&"#(1$*#(0,+#%'(')+9#)*&4#)*&)#8*'$*#)*+#:&,)'"&4#"01,$+"#8'"*#)0#*&7+#1"#-+%'+7+2;74

Church historians were continuing in the tradition of the biblical typology of victory over idols and the hagiographical genre contained a leitmotif of saints attacking temples and statues. Modern historians, though, have taken too seriously their narrative of events.

72 <-'9=#>??2#@1"+-'1"#'"#A1'$.#)0#:0'4)#01)#)*&)#B04")&4)'4+!"#&$)'04"#8+,+#904+#'n the service of Christianity, rather than, say, for the same reasons any previous emperor might adorn his capitol (pagan statuary being all that was available to Constantine). For further discussion, see chapter 2 below.

73 Ibid., 62.

74 Ibid., 67.

Instead, Caseau makes a provocative suggestion: Perhaps these hagiographical stories do not correspond to the destruction of a particular site at a precise date, but are anachronistic stories explaining the ruined state of certain buildings or justifying the presence of a church. I am reminded here of the later pilgrimage accounts to Capernaum in the Galilee and how these pious visitors explained the ruined state of the synagogue by

!"#"!"$%"&'(&)"*+*,&-!(-."%/&0102$*'&'."&'(3$&4'."&56("*7&2$&'."&8(*-"9&(#&:+;"<=&

Caseau is, of course, aware that there are other, non-Christian sources which seem to c(!!(>(!0'"&'.2*&?"*'!+%'2@"&'"$?"$%/A&:2>0$2+*,&Pro Templis (!0'2($&0$?&)+920$,*&Ep. 114.

But she rightly points out that each camp was writing propaganda misrepresenting reality for the needs of their cause. Neither Libanius nor Julian mention, for example, the repercussions from bishops for marauding monks accused of robbery.75

The legal sources (the Theodosian Code), however, present examples of both preservation and destruction, and give a sense of the unsystematic, local character to the phenomenon. Ca*"0+&-!(-(*"*&'."$&50$&09'"!$0'2@"&2B01"&(#&0&*(%2"'/&2$&3.2%.&!"9212(+*& syncretisms and the concern to maintain the setting of traditional life prevailed over the concern of an orthodox doctrine with ordinary people, who were less inclined to this kind of violence and fearfulness than those sources that dominated the violence: the Roman

*'0'"&0$?&2'*&0!B/=776 How many populations would wish to attract to themselves and their city imperial reprisals? She contrasts this view with Ramsay MacMullen, who portrays a population interested in the intricacies of theological debates or being party to

75 Ibid., 69-70.

76 Ibid., 73 (my translation).

52 attacks of religious buildings of polytheists and Jews. Caseau, instead, insists on the

!"#$%&"'%()*+,*(-.*/%+'.&0.1*"&2*3+4'2*5465(%(4(.*7"074''.&85*9+#(#"%(*3%(-*(-"(*+f a calm and silent majority, together with a minority who monopolizes the narration of events and amplifies the violence in order to proclaim their victory. She rightly points out that this was not a population made up solely of young men ready to do violence.

Caseau then makes the important observation that, while our sources speak often of violence against non-:-#%5(%"&*+#*;-.#.(%0"'<*+6=.0(51*%(*%5*&+(*2%#.0(.2*"$"%&5(*9.+9'.>*

Instead, what we are witnessing is an issue of space and the control thereof.77

Desiderata

It should be obvious from this survey that the subject of Christianizing temples has received substantial and expert coverage as part of the much wider process of

#.5450%("(%&$*?"(.*@&(%A4.*'%,.*,#+!*(-.*5-"2+3*+,*"*!)(-%0"'*;B"''<*C+,*D+!.E. Many scholars have succeeded in moving this work beyond the point of impressionistic surveys and into the realm of explanation.

Deichmann sought to answer the question: What were the monuments that were

Christianized? Hanson and Spieser sought a general chronology for temple transformations, in order to challenge the prevalent claim that Christians systematically destroyed temples from the time of Constantine. Kinney and others observed that there was no consistent legislative program against polytheism, (-"(*(-.*'"35*3.#.*%&5(."2*;"2*

-+0*#.59+&5.5*(+*'+0"'%F.2*5%(4"(%+&5><*G"&5+&1*H"#"2%-Mendolovici, Greenhalgh, and

77 Ibid., 63.

Caillet emphasized the role of Christians in the preservation, rather than destruction, of the Classical past (including temples). Hanson and Greenhalgh have even suggested that

Christians were ready to take over secular buildings earlier than temples. This, however, remains a hypothesis in need of substantiation.

Our sources for temple reuse are so limited that it is difficult to determine t!"#$%&'#

(&)*+,"-.#/(&"0",#123&*0#*!1*4#$56,#1#)67)8+0&9"#0*+2:#;"#0!6+82#7""2#76*#678:#*6#8&0*#188# the sanctuaries where Christianity replaced pagan cults but also to consider their number in relation to that of destroyed sanctuaries and to that of abandoned ones whose

2"0*,+)*&67#;10#!10*"7"2#%:#"1,*!<+1="0#%">6,"#*!":#;","#(&881'"2#10#06+,)"0#6>#8&3"-.78

With all these works, however, the question remains: Why did Christians avoid reusing temples in the early period (fourth to early fifth c.)? Fowden has focused on the socio-political aspects of this question by asking: Who had the authority to deal with temples? Greenhalgh asked: How would a disabled temple operate in the urban fabric?

Spieser and Trombley have offered less ideologically charged explanations for temple reuse or disuse, particularly those based on economic considerations.

After the work of these scholars, the question then becomes less what happened

(destruction versus preservation), when, and who caused it, but why it happened as it did; what were the economic, political, and cultural issues at play?

Saradi-Mendolovici and Caseau raise the issue of classical artifacts (sculpture, architecture) being re-envisioned as aesthetic objects. How are we to explain this when others viewed the same objects as threatening? Perhaps, then, we should look at temple

78 /(&"0",4#$?!,&0*&17&01*&67#6>#@1'17#/17)*+1,&"04.#AB-C-

54 conversions upon several axes of interpretation, since they were understood by different people in different ways.

Trombley raises the question of sources and the more self-reflexive issue of how a historian can recognize religious change. For instance, he identifies sacrifice as the

!"#$%&%&'()*+,+)-#,%.-%)(/$(-*#(/0"(1#00#&%)(2/03-*#%.456(+&"(-*7.(+(2,+)-%)#(-*+-(.%'&+0.( its continuity. Saradi-Mendolovici is right to point out that historians of this period must address the physical coexistence of polytheists and Christians, and stop viewing them as two isolated groups in perpetual conflict. Many of these scholars surveyed here also concur with Caseau that Late Antique society was primarily a conservative society. Most people were not interested in fomenting disturbances. Perhaps, also, we should not see such a impermeable divide between Late Antique Christian and polytheist practices.

French scholars, such as Spieser, Caillet, and Caseau, have shown the tendency to examine this phenomenon from within the context of civic life as a whole and the broader changes that occurred in the functionality of cities in Late Antiquity. Much work is being done to explain how cities differed from the heyday of Roman expansionism in the

.#)/&"()8(-/(97.-%&%+&:.(+--#42-.(+-(,#;%;+0(%&(-*#(.%<-*879 Spieser, for example, notes that

-*#(=0+..%)+0(.3.-#4(/$(!4/&74#&-+0(7,>+&%.46(+&"(!2,#.-%'%/7.()/&.-,7)-%/&6(?%-*(-*#( city as the center of thought and action of those who hold power and wealth broke down between the fourth and seventh century.80 The curial (and curatorial!) class, however, did

79 E.g., N. Christie and S. T. Loseby, eds., Towns in Transition: Urban Evolution in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages (Aldershot, UK: Scolar Press, 1996); Luke Lavan, ed., Recent Research in Late-Antique Urbanism (Portsmouth, RI: Journal of Roman Archaeology, 2001).

80 @2%#.#,5(!A*#(=*,%.-%+&%.+-%/&(/$(-*#(=%-3(%&(B+-#(C&-%D7%-356(EEE8F8

!"#$%&'())*(+,$&#$-".*%$/0)1(+%2$#"1(+%$&-)*+&(3$(!%$*443*'&('#&4(3$)"'&#&"!'5$6047$($ process would no doubt register in the h&'#"+8$"9$($4:'$(+47&#*4#0+*5

;33$#7&'$1"+<$+*.*(3'$#7(#$#7*+*$&'$!"$'&!=3*$)*+')*4#&.*$1$17&47$#"$9&>$"!*:'$

(!(38'&'$"9$#7*$/#")"=+()7&4(3$4"&!4&%*!4*$?*#1**!$#*-)3*$(!%$470+4752$@03#&)3*$9(4#"+'$ should be taken into consideration. One should pay attention, however, to the scale of discourse. Scholarship on this subject has tended to move more toward analysis at the regional level (e.g., Asia Minor, Egypt, etc.), drawing conclusions from no larger a scale

AB+(!<$C+"-?3*8:'$1"+<$&'$)*+7()'$#7*$?*'#$*xample of this). Such a perspective has the benefit of sticking to the provincial demarcations of the time, which in themselves have a tendency to follow topographical features. Within each regionDideally an area that

/7"3%'$#"=*#7*+2$403#0+(338Done can consider both urban and rural cases.

Scholarship on this topic has also moved from description and cataloging to explanation. This is where I think work on the subject needs to move. There is less a need of piling on more examples of temple reuse. Temples did not simply stand; they stood for

'"-*#7&!=5$E7(#$1"03%$?*$-"+*$0'*903$&'$9033*+$(!(38'&'$"9$#7*$403#0+(3$/3"=&4'2$(#$1"+<5$

This phenomenon is ripe for considerations within the larger context of Late Antique conceptions of space and place, and, as I mentioned in my introduction, for considerations of what Jonathan Z. Smith has termed ($/3"4(#&.*2$.&'&"!$"9$#7*$1"+3%F$&!$17&47$')*4&9&4$ places are emphasized, and ($/0#")&(!2$.&'&"!$"9$#7*$1"+3%F$17&47$&'$!"#$rooted in any particular place.81 As Beatrice C('*(0$!"#*'F$/+*3&=&"0'$47(!=*$G?*=&!!&!=$&!$#7*$9"0+#7$

4*!#0+8H$1('$(44"-)(!&*%$?8$($1&%*+$47(!=*$&!$#7*$)*+4*)#&"!$(!%$0'*$"9$')(4*52$

81 Map Is Not Territory, 101 and passim; ibid., To Take Place: Toward a Theory in Ritual (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987) 90. This is more relevant for Christian practice, since Greco-Roman polytheism was traditionally locative.

!"#$%&'()*+,-./"%(0%12%0*,3/145,(16"1)%7#4,8#&8)#+,2&0,&9:#60(,3&",8)16#(5;<82 What can we learn from the shift from temple to church in Late Antiquity about the changing conceptions of space?

Another perspective might be: Are there analogies between spatial/structural conversion and bodily conversion? How was a building and the space it demarcates converted, and did this correlate at all with the practices involved in converting a person?

Was there a shift beginning in the fourth century from a conception of ekklesia as assembly of practitioners to ekklesia as assembly hall?

In the case of a temple, the problem, of course, was less the building (or aedes) itself, as it was the presence within it of a statue representing a deity. A building once emptied

&=,%0(,-%4&)<,>124,2&,4&'90,12*0/%2?,#)(#,#@8)%6%0)*,1((&6%10#4,A%0/,%0+,('6/,1(,$&0%$#, offerings and inscriptions, and on 0/#,#@0#"%&",0/#,1)01"B,6&')4,9#,-6&2$#"0#4,0&,

./"%(0%12%0*;<,C24##4+,(&D#,9%(/&8(,124,D&2E(,4%4,2&,4&'90,6&26#%$#,&=,('6/,(0"'60'"1), transformations as missionary activity. In addition, hagiographic accounts of such take- overs (e.g., the Marneion in Gaza83) are incomplete without a resulting mass conversion of local polytheists. Temple destructions function along a continuum with miracle activity

124,%0(,D%((%&21"*,#==%616*;,F/#(#,A#"#,(%?2(,&=,G&4H(,('8#"%&",8&A#"I,4#(0"'60%$#, activity as justifiable and u)0%D10#)*,9#2#=%6%1),1(,J)%:1/H(,4#(0"'60%&2,&=,0/#,8"%#(0(,&=,

Baal and Asherah (1 Kings 18).84 And, as with human bodies and souls, such reoriented

82 .1(#1'+,-K16"#4,L124(618#(+<,MN+,OP;

83 Mark the Deacon Life of Porphyry of Gaza 72.

84 There are, of course, other biblical precedents: 2 Kings 10:26-27Q,-F/#*,9"&'?/0,&'0,0/#,8%))1",0/10,A1(,%2, the temple of Baal, and burned it. Then they demolished the pillar of Baal, and destroyed the temple of Baal, and made it a latr%2#,0&,0/%(,41*

!"#$%"$#&!'#&($)#&*'%+,"),$&*'-&*).)%/")+,0'/,*'1#+"&%")+,'/2/),!"'#&+%%$1/")+,'34' demonic forces. Liturgy could in part serve this role.

The study of temple reuse could also benefit from considering the similar, and often contemporary, process of destroying and reusing Jewish synagogues. While markedly- different practices took place in synagogues from temples (there were no statues of gods in synagogues, nor altars for animal sacrifice), many received similar treatment 5 for instance, they were burned and the site was converted for Christian use.85 Due to the particular limits of this study, however, I have not been incorporating this material.

There are no doubt several (potentially) converging issues here but each revolves around the control of practices and the spaces that facilitate them.

Saradi-Mendolovici had hinted at this direction (and explanation) for Late Antique

6/"&#)/7'%+,8&#!)+,9'3$"'+,74'),'/'8/2$&'/,*'1:&,+6&,+7+2)%/7';/4<'-=';+$7*'8&,"$#&'"+' suggest another explanation for this ambiguous attitude toward classical monuments, especially the re-use of temples by Christians: the Christian concept of the sacred was

!)6174'/'8'*)..&#&,"'+,&'.#+6'":/"'+.'":&'1/2/,!>086 -?:&'!/%#&*0'/!'/'8)/37&'%/"&2+#4' for the academic study of religion has been challenged, since it uncritically reproduces internal religious claims of an objective realm distinct from the material world that can be

Baal, and tore it down; his altars and his images they broke in pieces, and they killed Mattan, the priest of @//79'3&.+#&'":&'/7"/#!0A'/,*'1&#:/1s more significantly, Deut 7:5<'-@$"'":)!')!':+;'4+$'6$!"'*&/7';)":' them: break down their altars, smash their pillars, hew down their sacred poles, and burn their idols with fire0 (NRSV).

85 For an example of a synagogue burned and the subsequent mass conversion of Jews to Christianity, see Severus, Bishop of Minorca, Letter on the Conversion of the Jews. Edited by Scott Bradbury (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996). My thanks to Ross S. Kraemer for this point and reference.

86 -B:#)!")/,'C"")"$*&!'"+;/#*'D/2/,'E+,$6&,"!90'FG. One could argue, however, that rooting the sacred in the landscape was a practice Christians adopted from Greco-Roman religion.

58 experienced without the aid of linguistic or interpretive categories. Instead, it has really been Béatrice Caseau who has begun to think of these practices in terms of differing conceptions of space.87 What needs to be added to this, however, is the role of practices

!"#$%"&'!'('!")#&*+$,#-+&#.,//#+&#'0,#1%/,#%2#&*+$,#!"#$%"'1%//!")#*1+$'!$,&34#5+&,+(6&# analysis could be richer by de-,7*0+&!8!")#'0,#$%)"!'!9,#-:$%"$,*'!%"&#%2#&*+$,;3#+"<# focusing instead on the interrelationship between space and human activity.

Annabel Wharton, too, has offered spatial explanations for the architectural transformations in Late Antique Jerash.88 She describes the shift embodied in the layout of the two cultic centers of the city, the Artemesion and the Christian Cathedral, as that

=,'.,,"#+#9!&(+/#&*+$,#+"<#+#:0+*'!$;#&*+$,4#>0,#/+'',1#!&#+#',17#7%1,#.!<,/?#(&,<#!"#@1'#

History for a tactile-oriented sense of space. While the layout of the Artemesion can be grasped visually from a stationary position, the more convoluted layout of the Cathedral

(and by extension, she implies, Late Antique and Byzantine architecture generally) must be taken in in pieces. While this suggestion is certainly provocative, unfortunately

Wharton passes over this part of her argument too quickly to get a sense of what she conceives haptic space to be and how it might help to explain the architectural changes that we see when temples become churches. Why, for instance, is a constricted, parceled- out space not also experienced visually? Surely, this tactile orientation is not to be understood literally A as a blind person might navigate a circuitous corridor. Robert

Ousterhout, when trying to explain the characteristic style of Byzantine architecture, has

87 :B+$1,<#/+"<&$+*,&C;#,&*4#DE#224#

88 Refiguring the Postclassical City: Dura Europus, Jerash, Jerusalem, and Ravenna (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995) esp. 68-71.

!"#"!!"$%&'%(&%)*%+),%)$$(&(-"%)..!')/0%(,%)!/0(&"/&1!)2%$"*(3,4589 Of course there are always more practical explanations for such changes, such as the increasing subdivision of less and less available land within city walls.

The work of cultural geographers on the theory of space and place, which is extensive

),$%0)*%/'6"%)%2',3%7)8%#!'6%&0"%28!(/)2%.*8/0'),)28*(*%'#%9)*&',%:)/0"2)!$;*%Poetics of Space, has only very recently begun to be integrated into this subject.90 There are theoretical tools here that can help explicate the spatial shift from temple to church as part of the larger transformation from the classical to the Late Antique city. As Karen Jo

Torjeson has observed, different questions arise when, instead of reading from text to space, we read (still reading!) from space to text.91 Different answers also arise. As we have seen from this scholarship, archaeological remains of temple conversions do not always substantiate the related literary evidence. Both are forms of evidence, however, of the control of practices and the spaces that facilitate them.

As I have noted in my Introduction, work on this topic can also benefit from engagement with the social theories of Pierre Bourdieu, particularly in better articulating

89 The Master Builders of Byzantium (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999) 110 ff.

90 Esp. Henri Lefebvre, The Production of Space (Oxford: Blackwell, 1991 [1974]); Edward Soja, Postmodern Geographies: The Reassertion of Space in Critical Social Theory (London; New York: Verso, 1989); and idem, Thirdspace: Journeys to Los Angeles and Other Real-and-Imagined Places (Oxford: Blackwell, 1996). For a survey, see Phil Hubbard et al., eds., Key Thinkers on Space and Place (London: Thousand Oaks: Sage, 2004). <'6"%7'!=%/',*($"!*%),/(",&%/',/".&(',*%'#%*.)/"%(,%.)!&(/12)!>%*1/0%)*?%+@;"*.)/"%$),*%2;),&(A1(&B% /2)**(A1">5%Pallas CD%EFGDFHI%J)6"*%K4%L2),)3),>%+M,/(",&%N"!/".&(',*%'#%<.)/"ON"!/".&(',*%'#%M,/(",& <.)/"5%Semeia 87 (1999) 15-43; and Stephen Fine, This Holy Place: On the Sanctity of the Synagogue during the Greco-Roman Period (South Bend, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1997). There is, in addition, the on-3'(,3%+P',*&!1/&(',*%'#%M,/(",&%<.)/"5%*eminar at the AAR/SBL annual meetings. Their work is accessible online at www.cwru.edu/affil/GAIR. A number of articles employing spatial theory on late antique issues have recently appeared in the Journal of Early Christian Studies.

91 +Q'7)!$%)%R"!6","1&(/*%'#%<.)/">5%SMN<%/',#"!",/">%P0(/)3'>%T@>%U-23-02.

60 the social processes involved. The insights of practice theory can help to alleviate more structuralist readings of these phenomena. Theodore R. Schatzki has brought together spatial and social theory in this conception of practice.92 !"#$%&$#'()'*+,%&-.'/"01',.' particularly helpful for theorizing the categories of academic discourse. Most common scholarly categories of interpretation, such as 2Pagan3 and 2Christian,3 for instance, remain un- or undertheorized in the work cited above.

One problem with framing issues of the period in terms of Pagans and Christians is that it tends to ignore the role that occupation or position played in these dynamics. We should keep in mind, in other words, that different social positions (magistrate, bishop, emperor) came with their own sets of conditions, precedents, and expectations, and, as such, could at times be more determinative of behavior. I will also be saying more about

%&,.'$.'4'56$+,#5'7"#.%$#%,#5-.'8"9,:,5.'%"/$0;':<9%,:'80"850%=)

In addition, little work seems to have been done to integrate the perspectives of literary criticism into analyses of spolia. Problems of interpretation are central to scholarly discussions of the purposes of reused materials. Here, analogous literary considerations, such as audience, intentionality, and the multivalence of interpretation, could prove fruitful for further considerations of how spolia was understood by different people.93

92 Social Practices: A Wittgensteinian Approach to Human Activity and the Social (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996); and idem, The Site of the Social: A Philosophical Account of the Constitution of Social Life and Change (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2002). My thanks to Stanley K. Stowers for these references.

93 I owe this observation to Ross S. Kraemer. For a consideration of the reuse of classical texts by Late Antique authors and its analogy to the reuse of classical architectural elements, see Hansen, Eloquence of Appropriation.

What is most lacking, I think, in scholarship on the Late Antique history of temples is consideration of Roman precedents for religious domination and how that may have contributed to the formulation of the kind of responses we see toward temples. I address this in this dissertation.

Work on temple conversion has been largely carried out by Byzantinists and

Medievalists (and often from art-historical perspectives).94 As a result of this, little or no attention has been paid to situating this activity within the wider Roman imperial milieu.

Earlier Roman expansion and colonization involved not only interpretatio Romana, or the harmonization of foreign deities into the Roman pantheon, but also supplantation and the homogenization of various cults into a cult of the deified emperor. The case of

!"#$%"&'()*$"&(+,$-"*%,&),+)./$0("1/-)%&*,)2/1%")3"4%*,1%&")5*6/)$/41"7/-/&*),+)./8%(6)

9monotheism: with Roman polytheism), for instance, offers us a fruitful precedent for the kinds of changes that were to take place in the same region two centuries later.

Also in this vein, we know that some cults were threatening to certain polytheists

(e.g., the Isis cult in Rome, or Dionysiac ritual practices among moralists). A person habituated to propitiating a number of deities (i.e., a polytheist) was not necessarily equally open to all (inclusive) deities. Yet, scholarship on temple conversions (and

Christianization generally) tends to envisage a fairly strict dichotomy of Pagans versus

Christians when considering such activity. Neither should be considered to be a monolithic mass, nor should Paganism be understood as a benign system of cultic

94 ;"$%")<"=$%7%0()!"&(/&'()&/8)"&#)=/"0*%+01)-,&,>$"46),&)spolia (The Eloquence of Appropriation) begins with Constantine and proceeds to the early Middle Ages. She does, however, consider the perceptual changes and continuities of this period in relation to classical aesthetic sensibilities.

62 accretions.95 By focusing this study on the imperial context, I am attempting to address dissatisfaction with framing the debate strongly in terms of religious identity!as if such

"#$%&'(#)")'%#$*()(&+'#(*$",,$"$-(&.%#/.$"0)'%#..96

So, I would like to add, then, that, in addition to the biblical tradition of idol bashers

(noted by Caseau), there was also a Roman imperial model for the control and

.1--&(..'%#$%2$01,)'0$.')(.3$45',($)5($6'6,'0",$)7-%,%87$5(,-(*$)%$.)&10)1&($)5($9'#)(&#",:$ logic of the Christian communities by motivating and justifying actions against temples, there was also a Roman imperial matrix that helped give form to the range of possibilities. I am referring, in this case, to imperial administrative practices, but also more generally to a tendency for Romans in power to police the boundaries of piety, or orthopraxis. Such tendencies were perhaps more influential than biblical support texts once Christianity became central to imperial means of overseeing Roman identity. And such potentially strong oversight, both through the more overt form of legislation and the less overt practice of rhetorical marginalization, often had direct repercussions for cultic property.

In order to stress the continuity of the potential for religious domination in the empire,

I am aware that I am also perhaps counteracting another approach that I wish to support, namely, that which de-dramatizes the Late Antique history of temples. So while, on the one hand, my thesis will call for highlighting pre-Constantinian precedents for imperial religious control, on the other hand, I wish to help dissipate the highly publicized cases of

95 Although it is likely a stretch, perhaps even some fourth- and fifth-century polytheists were supportive of certain eliminations from their cultic landscape.

96 There is a similar penchant for interpreting ancient remains in terms of religious ritual. For a humorous portrayal of this tendency, see David Macaulay, Motel of the Mysteries (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1979).

63 post-Constantinian temple destruction within a larger landscape of possibilities. Such a seemingly contradictory approach arises, however, from lacunae I perceive to exist in the scholarship.

Problematizing Religious Tolerance

I would like to make one last point before turning to the evidence from Eusebius. The history of temple desacralization in Late Antiquity is a subcategory of the history of religious violence in the Roman Empire. Explanations for what happened to temples, thus, are subject to the broader scholarly judgments that frame their presentations of religious conflicts of that period. (After all, the history of temples cannot be separated from the history of Paganism.) It is necessary, then, to address one of the common ways in which this history has been framed and an assumption that has informed it. This requires stepping beyond the work focused specifically on temples (set out above) and addressing the literature on the larger issue of interaction between Pagans and

Christians.97 I do this not simply to help situate the issue of temples under Constantine within a broader context, but also because I want to briefly make a larger point concerning our characterizations of religious interaction under the Roman Empire.

97 It should come as no surprise that most of the work on this subject has until recently focused almost exclusively on conflict.

!"#$%&'()$*)&+",-+.)'-%,/,$+)$*.-+)-01%$2)&)"$+"-1.,$+)$*)3'-%,/,$4().$%-'&+"-5)6#-+) discussing the religious transformations of the Late Roman Empire.98 It is commonly assumed that expressions of religious toleration can be found in certain imperial edicts or apologetic argument (Christian and Pagan) from this period. Here, however, I wish to

1'$7%-0&.,8-).#-)4(-)$*)3'-%,/,$4().$%-'&+"-5),+)$4')'-1'-(-+.&.,$+()$*).#-)'-%,/,$4() dynamics of Late Antiquity.

I should note that I am not suggesting that, in the necessary process of cultural- historical translation, such te'0()&()3'-%,/,$4()9,+:.$%-'&+"-5;since they may not have had stable equivalents in Late Antiquity;should not be used. I am pointing out, however, that the conception of religious tolerance that we bring to the table cannot always be mapped adequately onto the conditions of this period.

There is a current trend in Late Antique scholarship to try to explain away religious

(mainly Christian) intolerance, as if it were an aberration or anomaly, that if these people were living up to their own ideals (namely, of religious tolerance) forms of domination and religious violence would not have happened. It has been taken for granted, in other words, that religious toleration is a relevant measuring stick.

This 6$'<),()1&'.)$*)%&'/-')-**$'.().$)'-&((-(().#-)3=-"%,+-)&+=)*&%%5)0$=-%)$*).#-)>&.-)

?$0&+)@01,'-A)1&'.,&%%2)72)&((-'.,+/).#-),+.-/',.2)$*)3>&.-)B+.,C4,.2D5)E#-(-)("#$%&'()

98 For example, Simeon L. Guterman, Religious Toleration and Persecution in Ancient Rome (London: Aiglon Press, 1951)F)G$#+)H$'.#A)3?-%,/,$4()E$%-'&.,$+),+)?-147%,"&+)?$0-A5)Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society n.s. 25 (1979) 85-IJKF)L-.-')M&'+(-2A)3?-%,/,$4()E$%-'&.,$+),+)N%&((,"&%) B+.,C4,.2A5),+)O.J. Sheils, ed., Persecution and Toleration (Studies in Church History 21; Ecclesiastical History Society, 1984) 1-PQF)>-%%,&)N'&""$)?4//,+,A)3R+.$%-'&+"-S)@C4&%)&+=)>-(()@C4&%),+).#-)?$0&+) O$'%=A5)Classical Philology 82 (1987) 187-PJTF)UDBD)V'&<-A)3>&0bs into Lions: Explaining Early N#',(.,&+)R+.$%-'&+"-A5)Past and Present 153 (1996) 3-KWF)N%,**$'=)B+=$A)3L&/&+)B1$%$/-.,"()&+=)N#',(.,&+) R+.$%-'&+"-),+).#-)B/-()$*)E#-0,(.,4()&+=)B4/4(.,+-A5)Journal of Early Christian Studies 4:2 (1996) 171- 207; and Elizabet#)V-L&%0&)V,/-(-'A)3>&".&+.,4(A)L$'1#2'2A)&+=).#-)V-7&.-)$X-')?-%,/,$4()E$%-'&.,$+A5) Journal of Roman Studies 88 (1998) 129-46.

65 who wish to tip the scales have rightly pointed out the elephant in the room for the cheerful image of Pagan tolerance:99 the persecutions of Jews, Christians, Manichees, etc. by Pagans. In addition, they have argued that examples of Christian religious violence have been exaggerated by our sources; that they focused their hostility on property and practices rather than people; and that political, not theological, factors allowed certain militant types to assert themselves over a generally pacifist population. Much of this work has been aimed at lessening the impression of the period as predominantly violent (and that of Christianization as an inherently violent process); and thus the work has a quantitative thrust to it. As Harold Drake writes in the introduction to a recent collection

!"#$%%&'%#!(#)*!+$(,$#*(#-&.$#/(.*01*.'2#34$(,$5#.6$#)*!+$(,$#.6&.#.7&8*.*!(&++'#

99 These scholars are rightly reacting to long-perpetrated caricatures. David Hume in his 1757 essay The Natural History of Religion (and soon thereafter by Edward Gibbon) 97*.$%2#3:6$#.!+$7&.*(;#%<*7*.#!"# idolaters, both in ancient and modern times, is very obvious to any one, who is the least conversant in the 97*.*(;%#!"#6*%.!7*&(%#!7#.7&)$+$7%=>#:6$#?!@&(%#,!@@!(+'#&8!<.$8#.6$#gods of the conquered people; and ($)$7#8*%<1.$8#.6$#&..7*A1.$%#!"#.6!%$#+!,&+#&(8#(&.*!(#8$*.*$%5#*(#96!%$#.$77*.!7*$%#.6$'#7$%*8$8=>#:6$# intolerance of almost all religions, which have maintained the unity of God, is as remarkable as the contrary princip+$#!"#B#:6*%## Everyone wa%#"7$$#.!#,6!!%$#6*%#!9(#,7$8!=B (Christianity and Paganism in the Fourth to Eighth Centuries [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1997] 32JH#3Indeed, there had once been talk of toleration [between Christians and non-Christians]. From both sides across the second and later centuries are heard $K<7$%%*!(%#!"#&,,$<.&(,$#.6$#!($#.!9&78#.6$#!.6$7=>#DL'#.6$##ST2US""JEH#&(8#.6&.#*@<$7&.*)$#&++!9$8#(!#7$%.> None, $)$7B#GChristianity and Paganism in the Fourth to Eighth Centuries, 12). MacMullen at times stoops to &+@!%.#+&1;6&A+$#,&7*,&.17$%2#3:6$#8!9(.17($8#@!1.65#.6$#%!77!9*(;5#;&A+$8#$'$A7!9%#!"#L'V&(.*($#!7# medieval piety should replace the smiles of <&;&(*%@=B (154J>#W!(%*8$7#&+%!#X*,6&$+#Q7&(.F%# characterizations: 3The ancient paganism of the Roman state was willing to be all things to all men. Being polytheistic, it was multiple and versatile. It was very far from exclusive. Nor was it generally intolerant. True, *.#6&8#8$)$+!<$8#*(.!+$7&(,$#.!9&78%#.6$#W67*%.*&(%=#A1.#.6$#W67*%.*&(%#7$@&*($85#"!7#&#+!(;#.*@$5#&# small and exceptional minority. Then came the conversion of Constantine the Great to Christiani.'=B#GThe Fall of the Roman Empire: A Reappraisal [New York: Annenberg School Press, 1976]).

66 characterized this period can no longer be taken for granted. Not that anybody is ready to assert that the violence that fills so much of the narrative of these centuries never occurred!that is not the issue. Rather, the question is whether the previous model of

"#$%&'($)*(#)+*&&,)-*.)%/(#'0'/($#)1.)0/)$23-*.'4$)0-/.$)*.3$%0.)/+)0-'.)*5$)/6$7)/0-$7)

'(#'%*0'/(.89:100

The violence of this period (fourth-sixth c.) tends to refer to violence perpetrated by

Christians, at least according to our sources; and in the process of relativizing it, the old image of the besieged Late Roman Pagan has nearly been flipped on its head. Michele

Renee Salzman, writing in the same volume, begins by expressing dissatisfaction with the

57'2)'2*5$)/+);-7'.0'*(.)3*'(0$#)<=)>*%>1&&$()*(#)%/(%&1#$.)'(.0$*#)0-*0?)@A17)./17%$.) share the view that it was the pagans who consistently used violence against people.

Although Christian overturned pagan idols and shrines, they did not attack people. Only

3*5*(.)#'#)0-*09:101 And while I generally think that the kind of careful case-by-case, quantitative analysis employed by these scholars is necessary and valuable (and I certainly share their frustration over earlier models), I am not sure where it leaves us. If we conclude that Pagans, in some regions, were more likely to initiate religiously- motivated violence, to what do we ascribe this? Something inherent to Paganism?

Salzman herself instead puts her finger on an important issue when she also notes that,

100 @B*15'(5)C'/&$(%$)'()D*0$)E(0'F1'0=G:)'()'#$2G)$#9G)Violence in Late Antiquity: Perceptions and Practices (Aldershot, UK: E.-5*0$G)HIIJK)H9)>*7L)M'22$72*((?)@N-$)(*017$)/+)*(=)6'/&$(%$)0-*0)/%%177$#) can only be established in rare cases, and in these there seems to be no qualitative difference from earlier 0'2$.:)O@C'/&$(%$)'()D*0$)E(0'F1'0=)P$%/(.'#$7$#G:)'()'<'#9G)QRSK9)N-$)6/&12$)*&./)%/(0*'(.)*)-$&3+1&) reassessment of the history of temples in Greece in late antiquit=?)E2$&'*)P/<$70./()T7/U(G)@V$&&$('%) V$7'0*5$)*(#);-7'.0'*();-*&&$(5$?);/(+&'%0)/6$7)W*(-$&&$('%)X*(%01*7'$.)'()D*0$)E(0'F1'0=G:)QIY-19).

101 @P$0-'(L'(5)W*5*(-;-7'.0'*()C'/&$(%$G:)'()Drake, Violence in Late Antiquity, 283.

!"#$%&'('$)*('(+$%&'$,-%./'*0$,1$23,4'#)'$,))-//'5$6&'#$%&'$#,/7($,1$%&'$),77-#3%8$6'/'$

%&/'*%'#'59:102

There are a great many issues raised by this line of thought that are outside the confines of this dissertation. In order to better assess these arguments, it would be necessary at least %,$%&',/3;'$%&'$)*%'<,/3'($!=&/3(%3*#3%8:$*#5$!>*<*#3(79:$?,$6&*%$ cluster of practices are we referring? What level of social formation? Is it productive to even engage in what is essentially a pro-/anti-Christian debate?103 I wish to make only two further comments on this issue.

Religious tolerance is an ethical stance that is linked with two concepts of modern liberalism that are not applicable to the ancient period: state neutrality in matters of religion and respect for personal autonomy. The ancient Roman Empire, in contrast, was

#,%$*$@,43%3)*4$(8(%'7$.*('5$,#$*$!(,)3*4$),#%/*)%+:$%&*%$3(+$*$4'<*4$*

102 Ibid., 273.

103 My thanks to Stanley K. Stowers for helping me to see the limits of this line of thought.

More importantly though, this latest revisioning of levels of violence between different religious communities seems to be driven by an anachronistic assumption: that religious violence was commonly !"#$%&'('&)%#)*#+%,-%+.)+")/')*)0*%1-(')"0)23(%$+%*#%+.4$) own goals and that, instead, tolerance and peaceful coexistence was preferred; that violence (in what was said and in what was done) was not really a pious position. We might wish this to have been the case5especially in the wake of September 115and

Drake is clear that being attendant to the dynamics of competition and persuasion, rather than simply conflict, in religious transfo(6*+%"#)6*.)3'17)+")8$+%6-1*+9':)+3%#;%#<)*/"-+) the importance of non-=%"1'#+)*1+'(#*+%='$>?104 We will see from Eusebius and

Constantine, however, that violence in the name of religion was not as much of a problem for them as it may be for us.

Preview of Chapter 2

In the following chapter, I study the different rhetorics employed by Eusebius and

Constantine. I &(*@)*++'#+%"#)+")+3'$')*!+"($4)&%00'('#+)$"!%*1)7"$%+%"#$5as Christian bishop and as Roman emperor5and how they helped to structure their particular explanation of these activities. I analyze the discursive categories employed by Eusebius to position the emperor as unique in relation to his predecessors. Ultimately, his discursive practices, I claim, reflect those of an intellectual interested in the production of a symbolic understanding of Christian and Pagan place and practice. His role as an

104 Drake, 8A*-<%#<)B%"1'#!'C? 11.

69 imperial propagandist, however, complicate the picture. In orations delivered at the newly minted basilicas at Tyre and Jerusalem, he instructs his Christian audience in the proper understanding of this unaccustomed display of imperial munificence. He stresses the pedagogical role of such visual surroundings, and how they can act to guide souls in their journey through matter. This is done in response to Const!"#$"%&'()%*%"#(+!#%)$!,( endowments to Christians and the resultant acceleration in the transformation, or

)%$-$*!#$."/(.-(#0%(*01)*0(-).+(!''%+2,3(#.(21$,4$"56(71'%2$1'&(8.)9(*!"(2%('%%"/(#0%"/(!'( an attempt to reframe this development.

I discuss how Euse2$1'&(41!,$'+(.2,$5%'(0$+(#.(!*9".8,%45%(#0!#(%:%"(#0%'%( ecclesiastical structures are made up of lifeless matter. And yet, given his strict anti-

Pagan stance, he must walk a fine line in drawing a distinction between Pagan and

Christian temples, that is, between which cultic structures should be constructed and which destroyed. Pagan temples, he argues, are material ensembles that do not reflect the heavenly archetypes and are polluted with wrong practices. And yet Constantine, by

71'%2$1'&(.8"(!4+$''$."/(reused some materials from these polluted settings. For this he must offer an explanation.

;."'#!"#$"%&'(4$'*.1)'%/(."(#0%(.#0%)(0!"4/(I argue, is that of a military conqueror and political leader. His victories over Maxentius and Licinius are the defining actions in his mind that determined his authority and, more importantly for our purposes, his religious allegiance and the corresponding patron/client relationships. I argue that the religious dimensions of this position have tended to be obscured or separated out in much modern scholarship. Constantine is consistently clear that his military and political successes have their source in his proper relationship with the Christian god. The power and veracity of

70 this god has for him been proven by the empirical evidence of his success on the battlefield ! and conversely, by the failure of his rivals who recognized other deities.

At the end of the chapter, I discuss how the account of the construction of the Holy

Sepulcher in Jerusalem contributes to an understanding of how differently these two men conceived of the same project.

RHETORICS OF CONTINUITY AND CHANGE: EUSEBIUS AND CONSTANTINE ON TEMPLES

Observing these things, one might well say that a fresh, new-made way of life seemed to have appeared just then, as a strange light after thick darkness lit up the mortal race; and one might confess that the whole achievement belonged to God, who had advanced the Godbeloved Emperor to counter the horde of the godless.1

In this chapter, I explore Eusebius of Caesarea’s attempt to distance Constantine from

his imperial predecessors in regard to his attitude toward the empire’s religious

formations and their cultic structures. I argue that, despite the fact that Eusebius’

interpretation has carried the day, Constantine’s actions, when examined within the

context of Roman imperial administrative practices, follow many of the same strategies

as his forebears—a reversal in clientage notwithstanding. It is possible to see in Eusebius’ writings on Constantine, then, a tension between the imperial rhetoric of continuity and restoration (evident in preserved documents issuing from the palace) and the bishop’s nearly acrobatic attempts to set apart the first imperial patron of Christianity.2

I do not, however, spend as much time on later histories of this period—those, more

or less taking off where Eusebius left off, that covered the full span of Constantine’s

reign as well as his successors: Rufinus, Socrates, Sozomen, and Theodoret—and other,

“secular” historians: Aurelius Victor, Eutropius, Eunapius, and Zosimus (although these

1 !"#$%&'()#$(#"("%%3.1.8 (in Averil Cameron and Stuart G. Hall, eds., *"+,%'+%&'()#$(#"(, [Oxford University Press, 1999]). Henceforth !&.

2 Eusebius’ writings on Constantine have been both praised and criticized for their generous inclusion of imperial documents. The veracity of these documents was more or less proven by the discovery of an independent attestation of a Constantinian edict (P. London 878). See A.H.M. Jones, “Notes on the Genuineness of the Constantinian Documents in Eusebius’ Life of Constantine,” -'./($0%'+%1220,)"$)#"2$0% 3")#'/4%5 (1954) 196-200. In contrast, Eusebius’ own account of events has often been called into question. See, e.g., T. G. Elliott, “Constantine’s Conversion: Do We Really Need It?” 56',("7% 41 (1987) 420-38.

72 last two were Pagans who presented a negative view on Constantine, which presents us with a rare opportunity for contrast). I do so not only in order to help keep this project focused (e.g., later historians reflect the concerns of later times), but also to highlight the author of this tradition of interpretation and the period he hails as revolutionary and axial.

It should be stated that I am not claiming that Eusebius’ enthusiasm (and relief) is groundless or misguided. This period !"# revolutionary and axial for Christianity.

Instead, I simply wish to help foreground other perspectives for the purposes of historical

interpretation.

The Authority of Tradition

When the emperors of the early fourth century issued their “edicts of toleration” they

went to great lengths to stress tradition and corporate unity. Galerius, for example,

lamented that the weight of the ancestors could not coerce a Christian reversal:

Among the other measures that we frame for the use and profit of the state, it has been our own wish formerly that all things should be set to rights in accordance with the ancient laws and public order [$%&#'()(*] of the Romans; and to make provision for this, namely, that the Christians also, such as had abandoned the persuasion [+"&,$#&*] of their own ancestors, should return to a sound mind; seeing that through some reasoning they had been possessed of such self-will and seized with such folly that, instead of following the institutions of the ancients ['!*-%"."&], which perchance their own forefathers had formerly established, they made for themselves, and were observing, laws merely in accordance with their own disposition and as each one wished, and were assembling various multitudes in divers places: Therefore when a command of ours soon followed to the intent that they should betake themselves to the institutions of the ancients ['"-+/%0-'!*-",1+"&!*-2"'"#'"'+$*'"], very many indeed were subjected to peril, while very many were harassed and endured all kinds of death…3

3 3&#'0,&"-411.$#&"#'&1"- 8.17.6 (in 4/#$5&/#6-7+$-411.$#&"#'&1".-3&#'0,8; translated by J. E. L. Oulton and H. J. Lawlor [Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1980]). Henceforth 34.

And while there is some debate as to whether Galerius is referring to Paganism or to earlier Christianity when speaking of “the persuasion of their own ancestors,” what is important here is that he is most concerned with maintaining what had long been established, whatever it may be.

The emperor Maximinus explains that he pursued the course that he did, namely allowing diverse religious practice in the edict he issued just prior to his defeat in 313,

“because the Emperors of old time had carefully observed this very thing, and it was pleasing to the gods themselves, by whom all men and the government itself of the state subsist.”4

Even Constantine, after his supposedly epochal defeat of Maxentius in 312, couched

his victory in terms of the restoration of Roman values: putting an end to tyranny and

“claiming for the Romans their ancestral liberties.”5 He had the following words

inscribed on his statue commemorating the victory erected in Rome: “By this salutary

sign, the true proof of valor, I liberated your city, saved from the tyrant’s yoke; moreover

the Senate and People of Rome I liberated and restored to their ancient splendor and

brilliance.”6

Innovation, long a concern of the Roman elites,7 was also a problem in the minds of

Christian leaders such as Eusebius: “those who, driven by the desire of innovation to an

extremity of error”8; “no one might think of our Saviour and Lord, Jesus Christ, as a

4 !" 9.9a.6; this contradicts his rescript.

5 #$%1.37.1.

6 #$ 1.40.2.

7 See, for example, Sallust $&'( 28.4 on the fear of )*+&,%-,..

8 !" 1.1.1.

74 novelty.”9 Yet when it came to his account of the change in the fortunes of his Christian

group under the new emperor, Eusebius went out of his way to portray Constantine as an

innovator who took the unprecedented step of breaking with the past and challenging the

traditional rites. For this, he explains, the emperor was understandably criticized. People

considered it ridiculous for an emperor to “bother himself with memorials to human

corpses and tombs [i.e., Christian practice]…. Would it not be better, such a one might

say, to preserve the ancestral rites and to propitiate the heroes and gods that are

worshiped among each several race, and not to spit on them and desert them on account

of some misfortune or another?”10 Thus went the standard argument: it was best to

practice the rites passed down to us (!"#$"!%&"). Eusebius (for these are '&( arguments, not

Constantine’s) responds by challenging this logic. Knowing full well the rhetoric of

religious conservatism within Roman culture, he announces that the emperor’s Tricennial

will not be celebrated “in the ancient way with offerings to the nether spirits, nor to the

specters of demons who deceive the people… not by polluting the royal halls in#the

ancient way with blood and gore….”11

Eusebius wishes not only to distinguish his patron emperor from all those who went

before him, but also to denounce very boldly the traditional Roman religious practices:

“And so all who are being converted to the Higher Power now spit on the face of the dead idols, trample under the rightless rites of the demons, and ridicule the dated delusions of

9 )* 1.4.1.

10 +,#-,$./0'%1#2'%&(!.3 (in H. A. Drake, 34#5%"&(,#16#214(!"4!&4,7#8#)&(!1%&0"/#-!.9:#"49#;,<# =%"4(/"!&14#16#*.(,>&.(?#=%&0,44&"/#@%"!&14( [University of California Press, 1976]). Henceforth -2.

11 +,#A".9&>.(#214(!"4!&4& 2.6 (in Drake, 34#5%"&(,#16#214(!"4!&4,B#Henceforth A2). Constantine, as emperor, chose more compromising terms than Eusebius, the bishop, did.

75 their forefathers.”12 Notice that these are the delusions of “their” forefathers, not “ours.”

Instead, the sign of the cross “alone has everywhere eclipsed the age-old lies about the

gods.”13

Eusebius’ claims, however, go farther than denouncing the old ways as barbaric.

Once well into the Christian-friendly reign of Constantine, he drops any attempts at

presenting Christianity as a religion older than that of the Greeks and Romans. It is,

instead, a “newer strain” unsullied by the masses: “No, in deference to the wise, I call on

you to shun and avoid the main roads; I urge you not to press along with the masses.

Rather have I come forth to sing you the royal praises in a newer strain. Though countless

are those contesting the same route with me, I myself, ‘spurning the beaten path of

mankind,’ shall travel the pristine one….”14

The bishop’s arguments are complex, and it is not necessary to unpack them any

further here. What is important is to point out ideas that structure (sometimes explicitly,

sometimes implicitly) arguments relevant to the fate of temples. For instance, while we

have just seen how bishop Eusebius boldly points to a fork in the road in Roman religious

history (calling on his listeners to take the one less traveled15)—an argument which might

be understood as a rejection of all things temple-like—he also takes pains to show the

inseparability of the Roman and Christian missions:

12 !" 10.2; the same sentence appears in #$ 10.4.16. Eusebius sounds almost like an ancient Freud or Marx here, exposing the delusion of the masses.

13 !" 10.1.

14 !" Prologue 1-2. Eusebius employs imagery of the seldom-traveled path of the wise man or prophet.

15 An earlier fork in the road had appeared in the Pauline correspondence in terms of Judaic praxis. Ignatius (%&'()* 9) wrote: “we have seen how former adherents of the ancient customs have since attained to a new hope; so that they have given up keeping the Sabbath, and now order their lives by the Lord’s Day instead” (quoted in Joan E. Taylor, "+,-*.-&(*/&(0/.+)/#123/42&5)*6/7+)/%3.+/18/9):-*+;"+,-*.-&(/<,-'-(* [Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993] 21).

No longer were there [at the time of Augustus] localized governments and states ruled by many, tyrannies and democracies, and the devastations and sieges that resulted from these, but one god was proclaimed to all. At the same time, one empire also flowered everywhere, the Romans, and the eternally implacable and irreconcilable enmity of nations was completely resolved…. Together, at the same critical moment, as if from a single divine will, two beneficial shoots were produced for mankind: the empire of the Romans and the teachings of true worship.16

But two great powers – the Roman Empire, which became a monarchy at that time, and the teaching of Christ – proceeding as if from a single starting point, at once tamed and reconciled all to friendship…. For while the power of our savior destroyed the polyarchy and polytheism of the demons and heralded the one kingdom of God to Greeks and barbarians and all men to the farthest extent of the earth, the Roman Empire, now that the causes of the manifold governments had been abolished, subdued the visible governments, in order to merge the entire race into one unity and concord. Already it had united most of the various peoples, and it is further destined to obtain all those not yet united, right up to the very limits of the inhabited world…. For at one and the same time that the error of the demons was refuted, the eternal enmity and warfare of the nations was resolved.17

These are the words of a proud imperial apologist. And while this is not a particularly new claim, Eusebius is not presenting an argument or attempting to persuade (like

Tertullian, for instance, was). This is a proclamation, an historical account of a !"#$%

"&&'()*#. The world, he says, has become “a single well-ordered and related household.”18 Such a perspective might promote Christians to embrace the empire and its symbols, and there was perhaps nothing more emblematic of Roman pride than the great marble edifices of its cities.

And yet, at the same time, the process is not complete in Eusebius’ conception. Even though, with Christ’s death, “all the power of the impure and unholy demons was

16 +, 16.3-4. This was an argument Eusebius inherited from Melito of Sardis and Origen (Drake, -.%/0"#12% '!%,'.1$".$#.2, 178 n 2).

17 +, 16.5-7.

18 +, 16.7.

77 destroyed,”19 the demons still exist, albeit in an ineffectual state, and a barbarian race

(now understood to be the Pagans within the empire) still threatens the boundaries of the

civilized world. While Christians wrestled with the temptations of imperial favor, and all

its attendant compromises, temples were there as the most prominent things on this newly

inherited landscape, and were thus subject to the full range of responses. Just as Eusebius

called on his fellow congregants to “spit on… trample under… and ridicule” past Roman

practices, he simultaneously pointed out their new-found place as the protectors, and thus

the rightful heirs, of the empire.

The Burden of Matter

With Christians increasingly in positions of state power, and bishops taking on some

of the traditional roles of magistrates (among other things),20 monumental architecture

came more and more under their control. This included both existing buildings and what

could be constructed in the future. For Eusebius, at least (and I think generally for

Christians during the reign of Constantine), a more pressing issue was the construction of

new, imperially-funded basilicas. Eradicating Pagan practices, including closing and/or

destroying temples, was certainly also a concern for Eusebius (and arises in his narrative

of Constantine’s !"#$%"#&'"), but he spills much more ink on giving a properly Christian

explanation for this new public opulence bestowed upon his group. For example, he

delivered a dedicatory oration at the new Constantinian basilicas at Tyre and Jerusalem,

which are still extant. And, again, he demonstrates just how complicated the arguments

19 () 15.11.

20 The letters of Basil of Caesarea, for example, offer a window into this transformation.

78 had to be in order to walk the thin line between imperial patronage and spiritual authority, between being the rightful heirs and proper citizens of the empire and remaining aloof from the material world.

It is important to point out initially that Christians at this time also referred to their cultic structures as “temples” (!"#$, %#$&#$'#&(#$, etc.). When Eusebius writes that,

“temples rising once more from their foundations to a boundless height, and receiving in far greater measure the magnificence of those that formerly had been destroyed,”21 one

might not know that he is speaking about churches here and not the “other” temples. In

his famous panegyric delivered at the dedication of the new basilica at Tyre (ca. 315), he

repeatedly refers to the church as “the temple [!)!$] in Tyre”22 and “this divine

temple.”23

And while it is interesting that Christians at this time are not yet using a term (like our

“church” or even “basilica’) to distinguish their spaces from their rivals, Eusebius is quite

clear that the gathering places of his group are something qualitatively different. This

distinction is not simply driven by a competitive spirit in the bishop. Eusebius was an

early iconoclast (his arguments would be marshaled in the controversy of later centuries),

and a clear dualist (not one who separates the material from the immaterial—the

immaterial is a modern construction—but one who saw the world as consisting of both

visible and invisible realms). The Pagans are fundamentally misguided, in his view, as

people who “transfer the worship of the World-Creating and All-Ruling Universal God to

21 *+ 10.2.1.

22 *+ 10.4.1.

23 *+ 10.4.20.

79 those things generated from him.”24 “Those [portrait paintings, statues, inscriptions] [are] all mortal things which are destroyed by the passage of time, since they [are] configurations of corruptible bodies, and [do] not portray the shapes of an immortal soul.

Nevertheless they seemed to satisfy those who had nothing else to set their hopes upon after the termination of mortal life.”25 People should, instead, “ascribe the cause of their admiration not to the objects seen but only to their designer….”26 It is as if they “honor the squares, streets, and buildings, the lifeless sacred precincts and gymnasia of the great and Imperial city on a par with the great sovereign who is its cause, when it is not columns or stones but the one who conceived and ordained these skillful works who ought to be admired.”27 The thrust of his argument is that the creator, not the created, should be worshiped. This is, of course, a misrepresentation of Pagan piety—claiming that it was a form of object worship—yet surely many cult objects came to take on a life of their own and could be treated as having divine power.28

24 See Romans 1.20ff.

25 !"#1.3.2. Yet it was perhaps legitimate for Constantine to erect a statue of himself in Rome after his victory over Maxentius since, regardless of how much it may serve to glorify the new Augustus, it stood as a testament of the salvific power of the Cross (!"#1.40.2).

26 $" 11.8.

27 $" 11.9. Eusebius frequently referred to the emperor Constantine as “the great sovereign,” a term that set him in relation to God, only in the human realm. Paganism perpetrated a two-fold error (“error with regard to idols and demons” %& 8.14.8): the gods they were propitiating were actually demons; and their depiction in statuary led to the worship of material objects. Sacrifice, then, was not the only problem with Paganism.

28 Over-attachment to sacred imagery was considered improper and excessive to many Pagans as well. Lactantius relates an interesting case in early 303 where, in the presence of the emperors Diocletian and Maximian, the church at Nicomedia is destroyed and thought to contain a statue of a god: “When its doors had been pulled away it was searched for an image of the god ['()*+,-.*)#/0(]… It [the building] was opened to all for desecration…. The praetorian guard came in battle array with axes and other tools. They attacked everywhere, and in a few hours they leveled to the ground that very lofty temple [1,2*)]” (30#)4.5(6*'#70.'0-*54.*)# 12 [ca. 319] in L. Michael White, 890#$4-(,+#:.(;(2'#41#"9.('5(,2#<.-9(50-5*.0 [Harrisburg: Trinity Press, 1997] 2.99-100). Pompey also expected there to be a great statue of Yahweh in

But this was not simply an argument against the use of statuary in religious practice.

Eusebius felt compelled to address the use of !"# material as a conduit to God. The visible world—the world of perception generally—was not the real world, and could thus mislead. His dilemma, however, was that this emperor was for the first time showing particular favor to his religious group and endowing them with large and sumptuous halls. How could such extravagance be justified, let alone praised?

The key for him was the Incarnation: “And certainly it was for those who prefer the perception of visible objects, who look for gods in statues and in carvings of inanimate images, who imagine the divine exists in matter and in flesh, who call men mortal in nature gods, that the Logos of God also reveals Himself in this way. So for this reason He

Himself prepared for Himself an all-holy temple, a physical instrument….”29 Eusebius

was not using the story of the Incarnation to make a point about the human body. He was

using it to justify the Christian use of “temples,” that is, rich and conspicuous centers of

worship (he delivered these words while standing in the new basilica funded by

Constantine marking the site of Jesus’ tomb). Because God entered a human form, the

physical world could be fashioned for God’s work; or, more to the point, the Christian

group could feel comfortable with a grand, imperial basilica.30

The image of the body as a temple to Christ came to take on a very different meaning

once the people acquired monumental meeting places. For Paul, the Jewish temple served

as a metaphor for the Christian body. Some three centuries later, however, Eusebius

the temple in Jerusalem. Such instances should alert us to the possibility of a great deal of mutual misunderstanding between people.

29 $% 14.2-3. Eusebius is likely referring not only to Pagans but iconophilic Christians.

30 Eusebius does not seem to mention relics. This eventually became the way a Christian space was empowered as a site for the dispensation of blessings (&'()*+!).

81 could draw direct and tangible connections between the assembly and their new assembly halls: “the lively temple which we all compose, and view the house formed of living and firmly set stones, well and securely grounded upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner-stone”31; “this living temple, then,

of a living God formed out of ourselves.”32 He also presents a template for understanding

the structures themselves: “construct the temple of heavenly types in symbolic

fashion”33; “this magnificent temple of God most high, answering in its nature to the

pattern of that which is better, even as the visible answers to the invisible.”34 In other

words, the Christian basilica—“this earthly house to Christ”—is to be approached as an icon of the heavenly realm. Such an image should be beautiful but it should also point beyond itself:

A mighty wonder truly is this, and surpassing all amazement, especially in the eyes of such as take heed only to the appearance of outward things. But more wonderful than wonders are the archetypes [./0-+1,2.], the rational prototypes of these things, and their divine models [2./.)+$#*.1.], I mean the renewal of the God-given, spiritual edifice [!"#$%&'("$%")"*&'] in our souls… an essence incorporeal, spiritual, a stranger to all earthly matter [#+!)",'(-,!&']….35

31 34 10.4.21. Cf. Ephesians 2.19-20.

32 34 10.4.22.

33 34 10.4.25.

34 34 10.4.26.

35 34 10.4.55-56. Compare Clement of Alexandria a century earlier: “But if ‘the sacred’ is understood in two ways—both as God himself and as the structure built in his honor—how shall we not rightly call the church, made through knowledge for the honor of God, sacred to God—of great value, neither constructed by mechanical skill nor embellished by the hand of a vagabond priest, but by the will of God made into a temple? For I call not the place but the assembly of the elect the church” (51/"*.1. 7.5 [29.3-4]); also Origen: [After asserting that every place is suitable for prayer (31.4), he continues:] “But the place of prayer, which has a special charm for (our) benefit, is the spot where believers come together in one place, since it is likely that there stand near the assembly of the believers both the powers of the angels of our Lord and savior himself along with that of the spirits of the saints…”; “when the saints are gathered together there is a double church, one of men and the other of angels…” (6+("/.1$"7+ 31.5-6 [ca. 233/34]). See White, 5"0$.!(8/$#$7'("9(:-/$'1$.7(;/0-$1+01,/+, 2.52; 67-68.

Given this slippery correspondence between Christ and the heavenly realm, on the one hand, and the congregation and the church building, on the other, Eusebius ingeniously recasts (in his oration at Tyre) the destruction of church property during the persecutions and the subsequent restoration and reconstructions as a salvation history in miniature using the buildings themselves as metaphors for the human soul:

But when through the envy and jealousy of the demon which loves evil she [the old church building/assembly] became of her own free choice a lover of that which is sensual and evil, and the Deity departed from her, leaving her bereft of a protector, she fell an easy capture and prey to the snares of those who long had envied her; and, laid low by the engines and machines of her invisible enemies and spiritual foes, she fell a tremendous fall, so that not even one stone upon another of her virtue remained standing in her; nay, she lay her full length upon the ground, absolutely dead, altogether deprived of her inborn thoughts concerning God…. But her guardian, the Word, the divinely-bright and saving One, when she had paid the just penalty for her sins, once more again restored her…. He once more purified and cleansed with pickaxes and mattocks, namely, the penetrating teachings of His instruction, those souls which a short time before had been befouled and overlaid with every sort of matter and rubbish contained in impious decrees…. And from the first day, so to speak, even unto now he has never ceased to build, and among you all to fit into its place, at one time the radiant gold, at another the approved and purified silver and the precious and costly stones….36

According to Eusebius, Christians had no one to blame but themselves for the

persecutions under Diocletian and Maximian: “a change to pride and sloth came over our

affairs, we fell to envy and fierce railing against one another… casting aside the sanctions

of the fear of God.” God himself, through Pagan agents, destroyed the church’s

buildings.37 Non-Christians certainly carried it out, but only as vehicles of God’s will.

36 !" 10.4.57-61.

37 !" 8.1.7-9. Nehemiah, for example, offered a similar, covenantal interpretation for the destruction of Jerusalem and exile of its inhabitants (Neh 1:7 NRSV): “We have offended you deeply, failing to keep the commandments, the statutes, and the ordinances that you commanded your servant Moses.” Such a vision pervades the Deuteronomic history in the Hebrew Bible. History for Eusebius is, of course, a Christian story, a drama between the Christian god and his followers. Even the third century persecutions, which we would tend to see as a case of Roman enforcement against religious difference, are cast in this way.

“All things in truth were fulfilled in our day, when we saw with our very eyes the houses of prayer cast down to their foundations”; “an imperial letter [!"#$$#%#] was everywhere promulgated, ordering the razing of the churches to the ground.”38 These buildings

remained for a time “befouled” but, through a kind of excavation which removed the

overburden of impiety, they became purified. Once re-erected, they were adorned in

heavenly raiment.

Standing in the new basilica at Tyre, rebuilt upon the site of the old, destroyed

church, Eusebius’ audience could not help but be struck by his architectural metaphors.

The suffering and resurrection of their church, as a people and a place, mirrored that of

Christ’s suffering and resurrection.39 The Christian temple has now been personified,

rhetorically endowed with a soul.40 This was a lesson the people could &''. In fact, with

the aid of this symbolic structure of unprecedented proportions, the bishop could simply

direct the attention of his congregation to the imagery around them: “Why need I now

speak more particularly of the perfect wisdom and art with which the building has been

ordered [#"()*%'+%,-*+.&/0*#%#+&'!&],and the surpassing beauty of every part, when the

witness [$#"%12*#] of the eyes leaves no place for the instruction that comes through the

38 34 8.2.1, 4.

39“[A]nd when we were, I will not say, half dead, but even by this time altogether foul and stinking in tombs and graves, He raised us up….” (34 10.4.12; This would be the same image employed for churches arising out of temples [the tombs].) Also: “For it meet and right that, as her Shepherd and Lord had suffered once for all death on her behalf, and after the Passion had changed the foul body with which He clothed Himself for her sake into His splendid and glorious body, and brought the very flesh that was dissolved from corruption into incorruption, she also likewise should enjoy the fruits of the dispensations of the Savior” (34 10.4.46).

40 He does a similar thing in his oration at the Holy Sepulcher, with Christ’s tomb itself undergoing a resurrection, as had its occupant.

84 ears?”41 Such a focus upon visual pedagogy was perhaps novel in Christian instruction.42

Again, we are seeing early fourth-century Christians adapting to their new position of prominence as the subjects of imperial display: “none might hastily pass by [the church at

Tyre] without first having his soul mightily struck by the memory of the former desolation and the wondrous miracle of today; struck by which he hoped that perchance such a one would also be impelled, and have his steps turned forwards by the bare sight, towards the entrance.”43 What is perhaps most striking about Eusebius’ rhetoric is the increased use of architectural metaphors. Granted, most of this material comes from the dedication of the church at Tyre, but it is also noticeable throughout his works on

41 !" 10.4.44.

42 Eusebius speaks of the story of Moses, “which most people regard as a kind of myth… but now the same God has vouchsafed to us also to be eyewitnesses of public scenes, more certain than any myth because recently seen, of wonders greater than those in story” (#$%1.12.2). In addition, he uses a tour of the various parts of the new basilica as an opportunity to instruct his audience in the levels of Christian initiation (something Cyril of Jerusalem will expand upon further): “Building verily in righteousness, he duly divided the whole people according to their several abilities; with some he fenced the outer enclosure and this alone, surrounding it with a wall of unerring faith (and this was the great multitude of the people who were unable to support a mightier structure); to others he entrusted the entrances to the house, setting them to haunt the doors and guide the steps of those entering, wherefore they have not unnaturally been reckoned as gateways of the temple; others he supported with the first outer pillars that are about the quadrangular courtyard, bringing them to their first acquaintance of the letter of the four Gospels. Others he joined closely to the royal house [&'()*+),-%,).,-] on either side, still indeed under instruction and in the stage of progressing and advancing, yet not far off nor greatly separated from the faithful who possess the divine vision of that which is innermost. Taking from the number of these last the pure souls that have been cleansed like gold by the divine washing, he then supported some of them with pillars much greater than the outermost, from the innermost mystic teachings of the Scripture, while others he illumined with apertures towards the light. The whole temple he adorned with a single, mighty gateway, even the praise of the one and only God, the universal King; and on either side of the Father’s sovereign power he provided the secondary beams of the light of Christ and the Holy Spirit. As to the rest, throughout the whole house he showed in an abundant and much varied manner the clearness and splendor of the truth that is in each one, in that everywhere and from every source he has included the living and firmly set and well-wrought stones of men’s souls. Thus he has built the great and royal house composed of all, bright and full of light both within and without…” (!" 10.4.63-65). He goes on to describe the altar as holy of holies of Christ’s soul (!" 10.4.68).

43 !" 10.4.38.

Constantine,44 and reflects the Christian leadership’s new position as clients of imperial

patronage.

Eusebius’ recasting of recent architectural history for his community went even

further in distinguishing Pagan temples from Christian temples (and thus between what

deserves to be torn down and what deserves to be built and admired). Both were made of

inanimate materials, but their buildings did not reflect heavenly archetypes like the

Christian ones did (“this spiritual image upon earth of those vaults beyond the vaults of

heaven”45) and were polluted by wrong practices. Eusebius is careful not to portray the

church’s buildings—in the material sense—as being made of anything less than lifeless

matter. In fact, he implies that the persecutors were foolish to have attacked them at all:

they “vented their spleen on inanimate buildings. They tore down the oratories from top

to bottom, digging up their very foundations, and so created the impression of a city

captured by its enemies”46; the demon-persecutor “directed his ferocious madness against

the stones of the houses of prayer and the lifeless materials of which the buildings were

composed, to work (as at least he thought within himself) the ruin of the churches.”47

When it came time for him to mention the destruction of Pagan property under

Constantine’s watch, however, Eusebius did not shy away from distinguishing the

44 For example: “he [Mark] would leave them a written monument [!"#$%&$'] of the doctrine” (() 2.15.1); Eusebius asks that God “inscrib[e] his successful conflicts on tablets of heavenly monuments for long eternities” (*+,1.9.2). Eusebius’ writings on Constantine are also unusual for their attention to detail concerning Pagan temples that were damaged during his reign.

45 () 10.4.69.

46 -+ 9.13.

47 () 10.4.14.

86 motivation for (and mood of) this activity from that which had been done by Pagans only a few years before:

And these,48 relying on piety, proceeded amid populous nations and fold and through all cities and provinces to search out the persistent error, ordering the [Pagan] priest themselves with great laughter and with scorn to lead their gods into the light from innermost darkness. Stripping them of their outer trappings, they revealed to the eyes of all the hollowness inside the painted surface. Then, stripping off what seemed useful of their material, they tested it in melting pots and fire. Of the valuable part, however, much was deemed necessary for them to take intact, they laid away in a safe place and kept, while what was superfluous and useless they left as a memorial of shame to the superstitious worshipper.49

Such practices, according to Eusebius, were intended to publicly humiliate Pagans by

treating the cult statuary as merely another source of building material. Such violent

desacralizations of cult figures were a new form of ancient Christian polemic against

“idolatry” (the common shorthand designation for the practices that took place at Pagan

temples).50 What Eusebius wanted his readers to understand was that the subsequent

reuse of this valuable material from temples was driven strictly by practical sensibilities.

They simply took stuff that was useful for their own constructions, and what was left was

left because it had no utility (and, he adds, because it could also serve as an enduring

reminder to all of Pagan error).51

In another context, we would refer to this activity as pillaging – the victor’s

prerogative. Roman history is replete with accounts of besieged towns being stripped of

48 He does not specify who these people are.

49 !" 8.3.

50 See, for example, Tertullian’s #$%&'()()*+,&* (Edited by J.H. Waszink and J.C.M. van Winden [Leiden: Brill, 1987]) for a fuller treatment of this polemic.

51 His emphasis on the usefulness of such materials is noteworthy and might remind us of the interest among Hellenistic philosophers in concerning oneself only with what was psychagogically useful for the individual’s soul.

87 their valuables (including, of course, those from cultic settings). The hostilities Eusebius refers too, however, occurred !"#$"% the empire, &'(%)*fellow citizens. These were civil disturbances (at times even battles, but never a war). Yet, such aggression was not portrayed in this way. Just as Pagan authors set Roman military successes apart from the incursions of others as acts performed by a pious people concerned with furthering the civilizing process, so did Eusebius.

Eusebius is at pains to portray Constantine’s use of +,(-"& (which had always been taken to be an emperor’s prerogative) as being based on practical and virtuous concerns:

As for those valuables longed for by the many, I mean gold and silver and that type of stone that makes men gape, these he [Constantine] takes for exactly what they are: simple stones, useless and worthless stuff, in no way able to provide defense against evil… All the same, even though he knows this, with dispassionate reasoning he skillfully arranges for their use out of regard for his subjects’ sense of proper style, all the while amused at those who in their naïveté are distracted by such things.52

Such mere stuff, according to Eusebius, cannot possibly posses any apotropaic power.

Constantine reused “Pagan” materials to decorate the new Christian basilicas only

because it was an expected, common practice. The people expected their ritual sites to be

ornate. But there was another popular motivation for his actions: he knew how “the

multitudes vainly feared… the phantoms of error fashioned in material of gold and

silver.”53 Thus, he had them removed from their former locations. Eusebius considers

both views (the reliance on ornament and the fear of the Pagan cultic apparatus) to be

erroneous.

52 ./ 5.7.

53 ./ 8.1. For an account of the practice of ascribing power to ancient statuary, see Cyril Mango, “Antique Statuary and the Byzantine Beholder,” 01'2&3#(%*4&5+*6&,73+ 17 (1963) 53-75.

Harold Drake has written that the language used here reveals that this was “an operation based on fiscal, rather than religious, motives.” He notes that Constantine, in contrast to his predecessors, left cultic structures standing. According to Drake, the emperor’s “demand was for precious metals, not religious images, and therefore included

secular statues as well,” since elsewhere Eusebius writes that Constantine also “went

after the heroes fashioned of bronze.”54 This is certainly an important observation, and

one that helps elucidate the material motivations for much of the acquisition of !"#$%&.

The problem is that much of the material “that makes men gape” taken by Constantine

was the property of temples, and such seizures were direct affronts to specific religious

populations. Besides, these “heroes fashioned of bronze” were not secular statues, but

venerated objects at the center of hero cults. So, while Drake’s point is a necessary

corrective of earlier interpretations of Constantine’s action that overly emphasize the

religious, he may be pushing the pendulum to the opposite extreme. Even without

dredging up the question of Constantine’s religious convictions, we can be sure that, by

confiscating property from certain temples, he was making clear statements about which

religious activities and the people that performed them were falling out of imperial favor.

Several temples buildings themselves were also severely damaged under

Constantine’s watch. In these cases, Eusebius did not feel the need to rationalize his

emperor’s actions. They were, in his mind, instances of just punishment as sites of error

and immoderate activities. The emperor, he writes,

decided such a temple was not worthy of the sun’s rays, and he ordered the entirety, with its cult objects, to be razed to the foundations. Thus the instruments of wanton error were broken up at once by a royal nod, a military

54 '( 8.4. Drake, )*+,-&%!.+#/+(#*!0&*0%*., 167 nn 2-3, 5.

force was deputized for the purification of the place, and those who at this time were unrestrained learned by the threat of imperial action to show moderation.55

It is important to note here that these earliest cases of temple destruction could only be carried out by imperial mandate and with a special military force. This was no mob action, nor was it carried out under ecclesiastical supervision or initiative (at least not independently so). Such a dramatic intervention had to operate under imperial aegis. Christian groups had yet to gain the confidence to carry out anything so bold (and, despite later precedents for independent or non-governmental attacks,

Bishop Porphyry of Gaza in ca. 400 still felt it necessary to seek the emperor’s

[actually empress’] support for the destruction of his city’s Marneion.56)

Eusebius has to walk a fine line in explicating such actions. On the one hand, cult

statuary and the temples themselves are just lifeless matter. On the other hand, they

operate as the “instruments of wanton error” and should, therefore, be dismantled,

and thus disarmed. What he does not do is distinguish the material used from the

practices engaged in with that material. This is because—and this is by no means

unique to Eusebius—those practices changed the very material itself: it became

polluted. Simply breaking up the site of ritual there was not enough. It was necessary

to put such tainted materials, if they were to be used again, through a process of

purification: “The melting of their inanimate images in the flames and their

conversion from worthless forms into necessary uses….”57

55 !" 8.7. To refer to cultic objects as “the instruments of wanton error” seems to contradict Eusebius’ general claim that these lifeless objects have no effect.

56 See H. Grégoire and M.-A. Kugener, #$%&'()'*+$&%),'-+)'.)'/0%123%) (Paris) 1930.

57 !" 9.6. Here, he actually employs the dichotomy useful/useless. Cf. !" 8.3: “Then, stripping off what seemed useful of their material, they tested it in melting pots and fire. Of the valuable part, however, much was deemed necessary for them to take intact…”

It is interesting that fire and heat are deemed the appropriate purifying agents in this case. Despite Eusebius’ deliberate use of the term conversion—again using

(human) ritual language to interpret inanimate material transformation—he is perhaps moving exegetically from the practical to the symbolic. It is possible that he is referring to the process of converting marble into lime (for mortar and concrete) through burning.58 This was to be the fate of an immense (inestimable) amount of architectural material from the Classical period (remnants of post-Classical lime kilns are a common sight in excavations, especially throughout the eastern

Mediterranean). On the other hand, he may well have had in mind several authoritative Christian texts that mention purification by fire (Luke 3.16; Matt 3.11;

Acts 2.3). Of course, these temples may also have been burned. This was often one of the only means of bringing such massive structures down. Many a temple came to ruin in this way—accidentally or by an enemy—throughout Roman history.59

58 Other kinds of stone (granite, basalt, porphyry) could not be transformed in this way, and thus often escaped destruction (Rodolfo Lanciani, !"#$%#&'()*'+,-$,.$/-*+#-'$0,1#2$/$34#'*"$,.$'"#$5+&',(6$,.$'"#$ 7,-)1#-'& [New York: Macmillan: 1899]).

59 For instance, the Ur-Tempel of Roman religion, the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, was itself destroyed by fire on three separate occasions (once rebuilt by Sulla and twice by the Flavian emperors). See John W. Stamper, !"#$/(*"+'#*')(#$,.$0,18-$!#19:#&2$!"#$0#9);:+*$',$'"#$7+<<:#$=19+(# (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005) 3-4, 81-83, 151-56. On the temple fires in Rome: Pantheon in 110 CE, Temple of Peace in 191 CE, Temple of Venus and Rome in 307 CE, Temple of Apollo in 363 CE. See Rodolfo Lanciani, >8?8-$8-<$@"(+&'+8-$0,1# (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1892) 56. The Temple of Athena Parthenos in Athens was seriously damaged in a fire sometime in the Late Roman Empire (most likely during the Herulian invasion in the mid-third c.). See Manolis Korres, “The Parthenon from Antiquity to the 19th C.” in Panayotis Tournikiotis, ed., !"#$>8('"#-,-$8-<$A'&$A198*'$+-$7,<#(-$!+1#& (Athens: Melissa, 1994) 140-44. Eusebius himself provides a list of temples destroyed by fire (with lightning interpreted as a mode of divine discipline) in his !"#,9"8-6 2.86-92 (ca. 325; Edited by Samuel Lee [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1843]).

The Potential for Imperial Religious Domination

Eusebius describes in these passages a process of religious domination, in which

the leaders of a religious group are harassed and publicly humiliated, and their

objects of veneration are either forcefully confiscated or destroyed. This was nothing

new, at least in the Late Roman Empire, and, in the big picture, represented little

more than a continuation of the intermittent religious persecutions of the late third

and early fourth centuries (albeit without the executions). Religious policy (if we can

call it that) was often imposed in a militaristic and violent manner. Trials could be

more like questioning sessions conducted under the pain of torture.60

Too often, however, modern scholarship has drawn a sharp line between two

historical moments, either conveniently ignoring the atrocities of the third century by

commencing a study with the reign of Constantine (as if his favoring of Christianity

suddenly altered long-held imperial administrative practices), or by closing a study

with Constantine (thereby giving the impression that his termination of the

persecutions of Christians was a watershed moment in the way that emperors dealt

with religious difference).

Eusebius himself, of course, drew this line, promoting the vision that Constantine

initiated the long-sought-after enlightenment. While his predecessors “enforced” the

worship (!"!#$!%&'()%!*+",+'&()(%") of gods who do not exist, the new ruler “urged

recognition” (-!.($!/(%'#"0.%*(%") of the only god. They mocked Christ; he took him

as his protector. They persecuted Christians; he brought them back and restored their

property. “They completely destroyed the places of worship, demolishing them from

60 See, for example, Ramsay, MacMullen, “Judicial Savagery in the Roman Empire,” 12%.+" 16 (1986) 147-166.

92 roof to floor; he decreed that the existing ones be augmented, and new ones erected on a grand scale at the expense of the imperial treasuries.” They hindered Christian practice; he promoted it. “They ordered the temples to be splendidly adorned; of these same buildings he completely destroyed those most highly prized by the superstitious.” They were murderous and ruled by greed; he was peace-loving, just, and generous.61 This image, of course, conceals the similarities in methods among

all these emperors.

The bishop did not, however, make any claims—as we might today—that

Constantine put forth a tolerant religious policy. Instead, he was trumpeted as the

only emperor to champion the only true religion—all others remained fair game for

suppression.

The early fourth-century pronouncements of the emperors Galerius, Maximinus,

Licinius, and Constantine are generally referred to as “Edicts of Toleration.” I would like

to suggest, however, that these represented instead instances when the imperial

prerogative to control religious practices was temporarily lessened—for various reasons:

frustration, political maneuvering, crowd control, or in order to propitiate a fuller range of

gods for the welfare of the empire (and emperor), but not in order to institute an ethical

ideal or establish a set of active rights for the citizenry. Instead, the emperors repeatedly

stress the !"#$#%&'( they are showing their wayward subjects. Such language suggests a

relationship of magistrate to criminal, which is precisely how dissenting religious

practices were viewed in the empire, where “impiety” corresponded with treason. These

edicts of clemency, as they might be better called, reinforce the potential for imperial

61 )*+3.1.2-7.

93 domination. The emperors here were commuting sentences—and for generally practical reasons. I must respectfully disagree, then, with Harold Drake’s conclusion in his extensive treatment of Constantine: “Every indication is that he [Constantine] conceived of Christianity as a faith that wanted, and practiced, toleration.”62

Eusebius provides us with ample evidence of an often-neglected aspect of ancient

Mediterranean piety that can help us understand the cultural context in which, for

instance, a city’s most emblematic and venerated sites might come to violent ends by

members of its own citizenry. His religious stance is not a peaceful stance. Take his

cosmology (and salvation history), for instance. It is a model of militancy from top to

bottom:

Heavenly armies encircle him [God], an infinite number of supernatural troops….63

His celestial armies encircle and supernatural powers attend, acknowledging him their master, lord, and sovereign. The infinite number of angels, the company of archangels and choruses of holy spirits…64

[God is] the destroyer of the impious, the slayer of tyrants.65

Yes, with these missiles of impious error the terrible barbarians and enemies of the universal sovereign subdued those on the earth… [erecting] vaults of godlessness and… sanctuaries and temples of a theology falsely named.66

62 !"#$%&#%'#()&#*)%+(),'$+"-$,)307. His suggestion (in “Constantine and Consensus,” 7) that Constantine was trying to create a neutral public space for the exercise of competing religions also seems to me to be a projection of a modern ideal that would have been inconceivable in the ancient Roman world. To be fair, however, he did also call into question the applicability of toleration: “But toleration as a government- sanctioned practice—the sense on which most discussion of the phenomenon relies—is not attested before the sixteenth century, leaving open the question whether in that sense the concept rightly applies to the ancient world at all” (Drake, “Lambs into Lions,” 8).

63 .! 3.6.

64 .! 1.2.

65 /0 10.4.

66 .! 7.5.

The persecutions of Christians consisted of “sacrifice[s] to the gods by the slaughter of their fellow-citizens and kinsmen…. They raised their hands in a war both godless and merciless, not against foreign and alien enemies, but against comrades and friends….”67 In return there have been “battles against the armies of polytheism, the

enemies of God and opponents of man’s salvation, worse than all savage barbarians,

kept rejoicing in such libations of human blood.”68 These battles were led by the

emperor: “God fortified with divine armor his servant [Constantine] as one against

many. By him he cleansed humanity of the godless multitude….”69 The bishop too is

described as the “the commander who presides over this army,”70 with each

Christian bearing “the great weapon of godliness.”71

Yet again, though, Eusebius, in his attempts to distinguish Christianity as the

correct and only efficacious posture, must show that things have changed in the

empire with its appearance. In a remarkable passage, he equates polytheism with

war:

!"#$"%&'(#)'('#*+'('#),(-.#-/%0'#*+'('#)'('#%"#&"1-; no longer battles in the fields and in the cities, such as formerly when the cult of demons prevailed; no longer the spilling of human blood, as when the madness of polytheism flourished.72

67 23 7.6.

68 23 7.8.

69 43#1.5.2.

70 56 10.4.23.

71 56 10.8.6. On the necessity of battling demons from the very moment of baptism as taught by Cyril of Jerusalem, see Dayna S. Kalleres, “Exorcising the Devil to Silence Christ’s Enemies: Ritualized Speech Practices in Late Antique Christianity.” Diss. Brown University, 2002.

72 23 8.9. My emphasis.

In Eusebius’ highly schematic account Constantine’s adoption of Christianity and suppression of polytheism helped change the very fabric of human interaction, since the belief in many gods had been the root of human division.

Now formerly all the peoples of the earth were divided, and the whole human race cut up into provinces and tribal and local governments, states ruled by despots or by mobs. Because of this, continuous battles and wars, with their attendant devastations and enslavements, gave them no respite in countryside or city…. If you should ascribe the reason for these evils to polytheistic error, you would not miss the mark.73

And yet the Pagan-reforming emperor, Maximinus, had made the same argument for the

other side just a few years before (312 CE):

[The city of Tyre] is governed and established by the benevolent providence of the immortal gods…. [who cannot perceive that] it is by the benevolent care of the gods that the earth does not refuse the seeds committed to it, and thus disappoint the husbandmen of their hope with vain expectation? Or, again, that the spectre of unholy war does not plant itself without opposition upon the earth [etc….] And all these things happened at once because of the baneful error and vain folly of those unhallowed men [Christians]…74

We might object that Christianity had far to go before it was truly the religion of the

empire (that is, of the majority) and therefore truly altering for the empire, but for

Eusebius this was less important because of the centrality of the emperor in the scheme of

things. He controlled affairs in the visible realm and his approval was more important

than any majority’s.75 But we should not confuse Eusebius’ historical perspective (in

which he draws a correspondence between the appearance [and later imperial adoption]

73 !"#16.2-3.

74 This was part of his rescript inscribed on a pillar set up in Tyre ($% 9.7.7-9). Maximinus’ beliefs were proved wrong by an ensuing famine, which Eusebius claimed “made it manifest to all that God himself has been watching over our affairs continually” ($% 9.8.15). Such was the on-going debate over the true source of power in the world.

75 The emperor was the ultimate player in the game of empire, as elucidated by Harold Drake ("&'()*')+',# *'-#).,#/+(.&0(, 35-71).

96 of Christianity and a !"#$%&'"(") with his cosmology/anthropology (although they are, of course, interlinked). While he may claim (seemingly naively so) that Roman wars have ceased and that the visible world has found peace, he does not suggest that the character of the invisible realm had been (or could be) altered in the least. A besieged mentality prevailed, but, thanks to the emperor’s actions, Christians need only concern themselves with the invisible foe.

The Emperor as Model

Eusebius, of course, used biblical texts as an interpretive lens for his history.76 But that is not his only framework for interpretation. Given the teleological role that

Constantine plays in much of his work ()*, +,, -,, and .,), we should not be surprised that he should promote a positive view of the imperial model (which in its monarchical form is also a biblical model).

Monarchy excels all other kinds of constitution and government. For rather do anarchy and civil war result from the alternative, a polyarchy based on equality. For which reason there is one god, not two or three or even more.77

For how could one bear the likeness of monarchical authority who has formed in his soul the myriad falsely depicted images of demons?78

76 For example, when referring to one of Diocletian’s edicts, he quotes Psalm 74:7: “[they] set on fire the sanctuary of God; they profaned the dwelling-place of His name to the ground ” ()* 10.4.33). This Psalm as a whole is relevant to the topic of destruction of cult sites: “Direct your steps to the perpetual ruins; the enemy has destroyed everything in the sanctuary. Your foes have roared within your holy place; they set up their emblems there. At the upper entrance they hacked the wooden trellis with axes. And then, with hatchets and hammers, they smashed all its carved work. They set your sanctuary on fire; they desecrated the dwelling place of your name, bringing it to the ground. They said to themselves, ‘We will utterly subdue them’; they burned all the meeting places of God in the land…. How long, O God, is the foe to scoff? Is the enemy to revile your name forever? Why do you hold back your hand; why do you keep your hand in your bosom?… Remember this, O Lord, how the enemy scoffs, and an impious people reviles your name. Do not deliver the soul of your dove to the wild animals; do not forget the life of your poor forever. Have regard for your covenant, for the dark places of the land are full of the haunts of violence…” (NSRV).

77 -, 3.6.

Polyarchy had until recently existed in the empire, due to Diocletian’s administrative reforms. But following Constantine’s victories, heaven and earth were now in sync in

Eusebius’ eyes. There was a satisfying consistency to this logic: Polyarchy/polytheism cannot persist in a monarchical cosmology. By positioning the Christian emperor as the earthly equivalent to the heavenly Christ, Eusebius was acknowledging the Roman power structure. It is not clear how much Constantine himself ascribed to this view, or was even conscious of it. He does not seem to draw an explicit connection between his attainment of sole rule and its possible cosmological implications (other than the fact that the

Christian god favored him).

Recent emperors had understood that their position entailed acting as models and (to some degree) enforcers of “correct” religious practice. Part of an edict written on behalf of the emperor Maximinus, and recorded by Eusebius, states quite clearly that,

the Divinity of our most divine masters, the Emperors, has for a long time determined to lead all men’s thoughts into the holy and right path of life, so that those also who seemed to follow customs foreign to the Romans should perform the acts of worship due to the immortal gods.79

This same emperor, in a move that prefigured Julian’s efforts by two generations,

sought to mimic Christian ecclesiastical forms in order to eradicate them. He “order[ed]

temples to be erected in every city”80 (a tactic later adopted by Christians) and, according

to Lactantius, he:

78 !" 4.3.

79 This message continues in a way echoing the sentiments of Governor Pliny the Younger two centuries prior when dealing with Christians: “But the #$%&'()*+ [,(%&)%'%] and most unyielding determination of some was carried to such a length… since so long a passage of time has proved that they can in no wise be persuaded to abandon such #$%&'()&, conduct” (-. 9.1.4-5; my emphasis). Charges of obstinacy occur very frequently in imperial judgments on religious conflicts.

80 -. 8.14.9.

introduced a new mode of government in things respecting religion, and for each city he created a high priest, chosen from among the persons of most distinction. The office of those men was to make daily sacrifices to all their gods, and, with the aid of the former priests, to prevent the Christians from erecting churches, or from worshiping God, either publicly or in private; and he authorized them to compel the Christians to sacrifice to idols, and, on their refusal, to bring them before the civil magistrate; and if this had not been enough, in every province he established a superintendent priest, one of chief eminence in the state; and he commanded that all those priests newly instituted should appear in white habits, that being the most honorable distinction of dress.81

To the extent that we can trust Lactantius here, this “new mode of government in things respecting religion” was a radical departure from traditional Greek and Roman religion.

Lactantius is depicting another emperor attempting to dictate the religious practices for the citizenry. Notice also that this new office of urban high priest was created in order to enforce these practices and, most importantly, to police their city for any signs of

Christian (and presumably any other disfavored) practice. This particular imperial action, where the power to police other religious groups is bestowed upon a priesthood, may be an overlooked precedent for the imperial edict issued roughly a century later in 407/8:

“We grant to bishops also of such places the right to use ecclesiastical power to prohibit such practices [polytheistic rites].”82 The early fifth-century declaration was the first time that such powers were officially authorized for the Christian priesthood.

Of course, Constantine, once the Tetrarchy was no more and he was fully ensconced as the sole Augustus, would become more overt in his attempts to distinguish himself from those he had succeeded. In a letter to the provincials preserved by Eusebius, he

81 Lactantius !"#$%&'()*+#,"&+"-*'%&*$ 36 (edited and translated by J.L. Creed [Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984]); also, in shortened form, Eusebius ./ 9.4. In addition, Maximinus had a forged 0-'+#%1#2(34'", which discredited Christianity, publicly posted and given to schools (./ 9.5, 7).

82 56 16.10.19 mentioned in Garth Fowden, “Bishops and Temples in the Eastern Roman Empire A.D. 320-435,” 53.

99 offers a stunning admission for a Roman emperor: “Those events [of persecution] are now the boast of the barbarians who at that time welcomed the refugees from among us, and kept them in humane custody, for they provided them not only with safety but with the opportunity to practice their religion in security. And now the Roman race bears this indelible stain, left on its name by the Christians who were driven at that time from the

Roman world and took refuge with barbarians.”83 In this case, religious identity

(Christian) trumped political identity (Roman), and the “barbarians” are lauded for being

the more humane. In circuitous—but not so subtle—ways those who practiced (and

continue to practice) Paganism would slowly be redescribed as the New Barbarians.84

It is fruitful to consider the terms that Constantine (through Eusebius) uses to characterize his new rule. One occurs most frequently: !"#$%&', which might be translated as “civilized” or “gentle.” In contrast, the reigns of his immediate predecessors

(apart from that of his father, Constantius I) are characterized as ()&'*+"%&' (“harsh”).85

The new emperor brought many of the outlying barbarians out of their state of being

(,-,!('&' (“savage, uncultivated, untamed”) to one of !"#$%&' (“gentleness”).86 Again,

these contrasts set his predecessors up as uncivilized, un-Roman, extramural, or, in a

word, )(.(/-.

83 0122.53.

84 Kenneth Harl (3&#$2(/42,!$25(%6(%-(/' [Chantilly, VA: Teaching Co., 2004]) defines “barbarians” as the next group not yet under Roman control. As far as I know, however, he does not apply this conceptual pattern to Late Antique Paganism.

85 0122.49.1.

86 0121.25.1.

100

Constantine was described in many ways,87 but he is never described by his

contemporaries as a religiously-tolerant leader. Eusebius presents him as a ruler who

worked tirelessly for the good of everyone88—and this could involve removing the

supports of their “erroneous” ways: “Thus he took unsleeping care for the general

welfare, interceding for the safety not only of his own men, but also of his enemies.”89

“Laws with an odor of piety towards!God offered all kinds of promises of good, giving what was useful and beneficial to the inhabitants of each regional prefecture, and announcing measures appropriate for the churches of God.”90 Since, in this formulation,

honoring the Christian God ensured blessings upon the entire empire, laws good for

Christians were laws that would benefit all Romans.

In a letter he addressed to “the provincials of Palestine,” Constantine writes: “I deem

it proper nevertheless [despite the fact that Christians require no earthly aid] that we

should remove as far away as possible the constraints which have been from time to time

imposed upon them, and the undeserved tortures, from those in no way guilty or

culpable.”91 An emperor had the power to either apply or remove constraints on his

subjects. The removal of such restrictions did not amount to a policy of religious

toleration. In fact, here he is simply showing favor to one religious formation over others.

It is important to note that none of these populations were in a position to know if such

87 For instance: “Just as the sun rises and spreads the beams of its light over all, so also Constantine shone forth with the rising sun from the imperial palace, as though ascending with the heavenly luminary, and shed upon all who came before his face the sunbeams of his own generous goodness” ("#!1.43.2).

88 With “his innate kindness,” he “set out to the defense of the oppressed” ("#!2.3.1). ! 89 "#!2.14.2.

90 "#!2.20.1.

91 "#!2.29.3.

101 favoritism would last. Instead, they could only rely on the fact that each emperor would pursue a course based upon his own conception of divinity and morality: “it is our practice to correct even the wrongs done by others.”92

We would be misreading the cultural climate if we interpret such activity with

Enlightenment values, regardless of how close some of the language may come to those

ideals. Constantine stresses peace among the citizenry: “let no one use what he has

received by inner conviction as a means to harm his neighbor. What each has seen and

understood, he must use, if possible, to help the other; but if that is impossible, the matter

should be dropped. It is one thing to take on willingly the contest for immortality, quite

another to enforce it with sanctions.”93 In other words, citizens should not initiate actions

against other religious groups; the imperial bureaucracy, however, retained the right to do

so. The same power dynamic motivated his caution over the prospect of disturbing the

temples, since it would only promote violence in the empire on the part of those who are

misled: “some persons are saying that the customs of the temples and the agency of

darkness have been removed altogether. I would indeed have recommended that to all

mankind, were it not that the violent rebelliousness of injurious error is so obstinately

fixed in the minds of some, to the detriment of the common weal [!"#$%&'("#$#)!"*'+#].”94

The absence of religious coercion is the best means of conversion: “Let those in error, as well as the believers, gladly receive the benefit or peace and quiet. For this sweetness of fellowship will be effective for correcting them and bringing them to the right way. May

92 From the same letter. ,-$2.31.2.

93 ,-$2.60.1.

94 ,-$2.60.2.

102 none molest another; may each retain what his soul desires, and practice it….”95 And yet, while early in his reign he would assure others (“those who hold themselves back [from the right way]”) that they may “keep if they wish their sanctuaries of falsehood [!"#

$#%&'()(*+,#-!%.%/0],”96 it would become clear from his later actions against certain

temples that this grant too was provisional.

What is striking about this period in the early fourth century is the seesawing between

rejection and acceptance of certain religious groups (in particular, the late, and usually

reluctant, reversals of Galerius, Maximinus, and Licinius).97 Some people must have

been very confused—and cautious—knowing that things might change again at any time.

Eusebius suggests that these emperors were making policy decisions based directly

on a consideration of the personal benefits. He claims that 1%2(3% receiving his famous

vision, Constantine considered the fates of his immediate predecessors and determined

that their successive downfalls resulted from insufficient divine guardians:

He therefore considered what kind of god he should adopt to aid him… only his father had taken the opposite course to [that of preceding emperors] by condemning their error, while he himself had throughout his life honored the God who transcends the universe, and had found him a savior and guardian of his Empire and a provider of everything good…. [He considered] how those who had confided in a multitude of gods had run into multiple destruction…. and [he] concluded that it was folly to go on with the vanity of the gods which do not exist, and to persist in error in the face of so much evidence, and he decided he should venerate his father’s God alone.98

95 45-2.56.1.

96 45-2.56.1.

97 The Emperor Julian’s attempts at an imperially-enforced Pagan revival in the early 360s would prove to be a further example of how security for certain religious groups was dependent upon the interests of individual emperors. And even those were not always clear or consistent: Diocletian, who eventually ordered the worst persecution of Christians, left them in peace for the first 20 years of his reign.

98 45-1.27.2-3. Constantine (or Eusebius) here may have been influenced by Lactantius, who was Latin tutor to his son Crispus. His 6/-!7%-8%,!7-(2-!7%-9%3#%:&!(3#-traces out the horrible deaths of each emperor who opposed Christianity.

103

Compare the counter explanations for his alliance with the Christian God put forth by the

Emperor Julian (and later the historian Zosimus): Constantine was attracted to

Christianity because he could be absolved of the sins of having his son Crispus and wife

Fausta murdered.99 Eusebius, however, also tells of Constantine’s vision of an aerial

cross and his subsequent instruction in the Christian story.100 Regardless of the veracity

of these accounts, each one speaks of private interests for what was to become the

foundation of the emperor’s religious course.

Eusebius suggests that these gory tales of how, for example, Galerius and Maximin

met their ends101—tales which seem to us outrageous—had a great effect on

Constantine’s religious policies. In other words, this (and presumably other) ruler’s

religious policies could be motivated by intensely personal reasons, namely, how they

might ultimately affect his fate.

Here is Licinius addressing his troops before engaging battle with Constantine:

[T]hese are our ancestral gods [!"#$%&%'#()&%], whom we honor because we have received them for worship from our earliest forefathers. The commander of those arrayed against us [Constantine] has broken faith with the ancestral code [#"'!"#$%"] and adopted godless belief, mistakenly acknowledging some foreign

99 Julian *")+"$+'336; Zosimus ,)-'.%+#&$/0'

100 The so-called “conversion of Constantine.” See, however, Thomas G. Elliott, “Constantine’s Conversion: Do We Really Need It?” 1(&)2%3 41 (1987) 420-38; as well as idem, “Constantine’s Early Religious Development,” 4&5$2"6'&7'8)6%9%&5+'.%+#&$/'15 (1989) 283-91.

101 Galerius (:*'1.57.2) “A general inflammation arose in the middle of his bodily private parts, then a deeply fistulous ulcer; these spread incurably to his intestines, from which an unspeakable number of maggots bred and a stench of death arose; his whole bodily bulk having been converted by excess eating into a vast quantity of fat, which then, as it decomposed, is said to have caused an intolerable and frightful spectacle to those nearby.” Maximin (:*'1.58.4 - 59.1): “Just when he finally hoped that his life was safe, he was struck down by a fiery shaft from God, his whole body consumed with the fire of divine vengeance, so that his whole physical appearance as he had been before became unrecognizable, dry skeletonized bones like mere phantoms being all that was left of him. As the chastisement of God became more severe his eyes began to protrude and fell from their sockets leaving him blind, as he was subjected by the most just verdict of God to the very punishment which he had been first to introduce for God’s martyrs.”

104

god from somewhere or other…. Now is the moment which will prove which one is mistaken in his belief: it will decide between the gods honored by us and by the other party… let no one hereafter be in doubt which god he ought to worship, since he should go over to the winner…. If the foreign god whom we now mock should prove superior, let nothing stop us from acknowledging and honoring him too, saying goodbye to these, whose candles we light in vain. But if ours prevail, which is not in doubt, after our victory here let us launch the war against the godless.102

This passage suggests that, in addition to ancestral tradition, for generals/emperors, military success was a determinant of divine truth. Only the god of the victor was a true and efficacious god. This kind of empirical decision making based on experience in the field trumped other forms of argumentation – such as the ethical claims of philosophers.

Truth, the nature of reality, manifests itself clearly through military victory: in a letter addressed directly to Eusebius, Constantine writes that, as a direct result of the defeat of

Maxentius, people “have come to recognize That which really Is [!"#"$!%&#"$#'()*+$],

[and] will come to the true and right ordering of life.”103 Such was the possible interrelationship between battle and divine patronage (or religious truth) for any military commander/emperor like Constantine.

Restoration

Following in the wake of his victory over the last of his co-emperors in 324 CE,

Constantine instructed Eusebius and his fellow church leaders to “attend to the church buildings, whether by restoring or enlarging the existing ones, or where necessary building new.” I will discuss the range of this construction activity in Chapter 4. Here, I want only to highlight an important episode in Eusebius’ narrative on the life of

102 ,-#2.5.2-3.

103 ,-#2.46.2. This is strangely evocative of Parmenides famous argument: “That which is, is.”

105

Constantine that sheds further light on the differing concerns of this bishop and this emperor, and how each cast the same event in the terms appropriate to their respective offices.

The centerpiece of Eusebius’ account on temples (Christian and Pagan) is the site in

Jerusalem that would come to be known as the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.104 This narrative would become substantially more elaborate over time, with the eventual involvement of the emperor’s mother Helena in the !"#$"%!&'()*(!+. It is not my intention here to sort through the later accounts and the subsequent scholarship.105 What I wish to

point out, however, are the subtle contrasts in the bishop’s and the emperor’s renditions,

and what those suggest about their particular programs.

For Eusebius, the “very cave of the Savior” (i.e., the tomb of Jesus) had been

deliberately hidden from humanity—not so much as that particular imperial action taken

by the Emperor Hadrian in his conversion of Jewish Jerusalem into Roman Aelia

Capitolina in the 130s CE, but as a deliberately anti-Christian act perpetrated by Pagans

(“wicked men—or rather the whole tribe of demons through them”). It is not a question

for him whether or not Christians had preserved the memory of the site of his temporary

burial from the early first century. In fact, according to Eusebius, Pagans themselves were

well aware of its location and went to great lengths to erase it from the topography of the

city–and thus from everyone’s memory:106 “Indeed with a great expenditure of effort

they brought earth from somewhere outside and covered up the whole place, then leveled

104 ,-'3.25-40.

105 Instead, see Jan Willem Drijvers, .$/$"0'1*2*+%03'45$'6&%5$)'&7'-&"+%0"%!"$'%5$'8)$0%'0"9'%5$':$2$"9' &7'.$)';!"9!"2'&7'%5$'4)*$'-)&++ (Leiden: Brill, 1992).

106,-'3.26.1:'“to make invisible to mankind, thinking in their stupidity that they could in this way hide the truth.”

106 it, paved it, and so hid the divine cave somewhere down beneath a great quantity of soil.”107

It was not enough, in Eusebius’ mind, for the cave (and any memorial there) to be

simply covered over, however. Christians and Pagans alike knew that the proper means

of controlling an enemy involved re-writing—palimpsest-like—your version onto their

landscape.108 Hadrian’s Pagan officials had done this (to some degree) on the Jewish

Temple Mount just a short distance away, and it was natural for Eusebius to assume that

the same had occurred with “that divine monument to immortality”109: “above the ground

they constructed a terrible and truly genuine tomb, one for souls, for dead idols, and built

a gloomy sanctuary to the impure demon Aphrodite; then they offered foul sacrifices

there upon defiled and polluted altars.”110 This thicket of pejoratives expresses how

powerful (in the negative sense) Pagan sites could be. This was not merely a material

shell, but a “truly genuine tomb” that could entrap a person’s soul. To Eusebius, what

took place ca. 132 CE at the west end of Jerusalem was a very deliberate and calculated

assault on the heart of Christian values. It was inconceivable that the second-century

!"#"$%& might have only been constructed as one of several components necessary to

107 Ibid. The leveled and paved area referred to here is likely the new forum constructed for Aelia Capitolina under Hadrian, which stretched south of the present site of Church of the Holy Sepulcher.

108 For Eusebius, this was a kind of '(#$(!)%*#"#%+)(", But he would agree with Charles W. Hedrick, Jr (-)&!%+.*($'*/)0"$1"2*34+5"*($'*6"7(8)0)!(!)%$*%9*:"#%+.*)$*;(!"*<$!)=4)!. [Austin: University of Texas Press, 2000] esp. 1-6) that removing the tomb from sight did not eradicate the memory of it; it only attempted to control it. The example of a manuscript palimpsest is apt, since a trace of what was erased still remains (in some form or another).

109 Eusebius does not mention here the Bar Kokhba revolt, the expulsion of the Jews from the city, or the paganization of the Temple Mount, perhaps because for him, in his panegyric to the emperor who put a halt to the persecution of Christians, Jews were not the pressing issue. Pagans (and their temples) were. He may also may chosen to avoid it since it positions Jews as victims, similar to his putative Christians. I thank Ross S. Kraemer for this last point.

110 >? 3.26.3.

107 form a proper Roman forum, or that it might have been carried out in the available area of the old military camp in western Jerusalem (!"#$% X &'"(")*$*) without any awareness of significance for Christians, about which I will say more in Chapter 4. It was inconceivable also that the actual tomb of Christ—which was no tomb at all but a

“Testimony [+,'(-'$%)] of the Savior’s resurrection”—.,/ to be found under a genuine tomb of a Pagan demon. In other words, this fits an (unspoken) pattern: just as “we” reuse

“their” sites, “they” must have reused “ours.” His interpretation of these events seems also to be an expression of a kind of envy, or perhaps a sense of superiority: while the

Jews had had the very center of their cult utterly destroyed by the Pagan Hadrian and rededicated to Roman gods, surely the Romans (so might have gone his reasoning) would have taken measures to also wipe out all traces of this testimony to the true religion and rededicate it to a Roman god.

Then, in order to re-expose the buried site, one had only to remove the second- century fill. But, continuing in the theme of the uniqueness of the Constantinian moment,

Eusebius posits that no one before him had even been capable of such an excavation:

This situation “lasted for long ages, and no one was ever found—no governor, no commander, no Emperor even—competent to clear away what had been perpetrated.”111

But, “At a word of [Constantine’s] command those contrivances of fraud were

demolished from top to bottom, and the houses of error [(,0(1*023,)1*0%$4%/%+1+,(,]

were dismantled and destroyed along with their idols and demons [,-(%$*05%,)%$*04,$0

/,$+%*$].”112 More was required, however, for what is cast in the bishop’s narrative as a

111 6703.26.5.

112 6703.26.7.

108 ritual transformation to be completed. The emperor then ordered that, “all the rubble of stones and timbers from the demolitions should be taken and dumped a long way from the site… [and] that the site should be excavated [!"#$%&!"'!(] to a great depth and the pavement should be carried away with the rubble a long distance outside, because it was stained with demonic bloodshed.”113 Thus, in Eusebius’ symbolic recasting of the events,

the “great quantity of soil” that had been “brought… from somewhere outside [the city

walls]” under Hadrian’s command was now, two centuries later, carried back “a long

distance outside [the city walls]” by Constantine.

Also, in addition to the image of the Christian tomb-of-life lying buried under the

Pagan tomb-of-death, Eusebius portrays the physical site of the empty tomb itself

undergoing a mimetic resurrection:114

stage by stage… the revered and all-hallowed Testimony of the Savior’s resurrection was itself revealed, and the cave, the holy of holies, took on the appearance of a representation of the Savior’s return to life. Thus after its descent into darkness it came forth again to the light, and it enabled those who came as visitors to see plainly the story of the wonders wrought there, testifying by facts louder than any voice to the resurrection of the Savior.115

Again, as he does in his oration at Tyre, Eusebius skillfully casts Christian sacred

architecture in the role of a ritual participant. The bishop also places great emphasis—

here as elsewhere—on the power of visual evidence for imparting the Christian message.

The site/sight “testifies by facts louder than any voice.” This could be taken as an odd

113 )*+3.27. According to Tacitus (,-('#$-.( 4.53), after the Temple to Jupiter Capitolinus in Rome burned down for the second time during the rebellion of Vitellus, “the haruspices… warned that the remains of the earlier temple should be carried away to the swamps” (quoted in Peter J. Aicher, /#0.+12-3.4+1+5#%$6.7 8%-9.+'#+':.+1"6-."'+*-'; [Wauconda, IL: Bolchazy-Carducci, 2004] 51).

114 Of course, the tomb had to be empty in order to be a testimony of a resurrection.

115 )* 3.28. Despite his iconoclastic tendencies, Eusebius repeatedly privileges sight over hearing as being most effective pedagogically.

109 admission for an orator and preacher (and one whose testimony would later be marshaled for the iconoclastic cause). Yet perhaps the new potential for the region of Palestine

(including the bishop’s see at Caesarea) as a destination for pilgrims (the “visitors” mentioned in the above extract) might help us understand his interest in elevating visual

testimony to a primary position. And yet, just as he does in his speech at Tyre, Eusebius

is careful to present this new visual data as both something meaningful in itself (the very cave “itself was revealed”) and as a symbol pointing to a truth beyond it (“the cave took on the appearance of a representation of the Savior’s return to life”). Eusebius is careful, in other words, not to present these newly-gained endowments as ends in themselves.

While the bishop portrays this construction process in terms of the correct understanding of ritual, the emperor—however briefly we hear him speak on it—presents a more militaristic reading of the undertaking. He speaks, like Octavian Augustus did three and half centuries before him, of a restoration of the republic and, in its wake, the recovery of an element of true piety. In a letter he addressed to Bishop Macarius of

Jerusalem, he writes: “For the evidence of his most sacred passion, long since hidden under the ground, to have remained unknown for such a long period of years, until through the removal of the enemy of the whole republic it was ready to be revealed, once they were set free, to his servants, truly surpasses all marvels.”116 It is striking in this

passage that, for the emperor his military victory over Licinius in 324 CE, when he

gained control of the East and thus became sole emperor, was the act that precipitated the

revelation of the site. The “removal of the enemy” brought about the removal of “the

hideous burden of an idol which lay on it.” It is not clear from Constantine’s account,

116 !"#3.30.1.

110 however, if the site, as Eusebius claims, was known all along to lie beneath this shrine to

Aphrodite (Venus) built during Hadrian’s reign. It “remained unknown” for years and was only revealed to the Christian group (“to his servants”) “at God’s command” once the republic had been liberated. Such a revelation, then, may have been understood to be new knowledge, even for the local Christians – or, at least, a restoration of a state that had been lost. Constantine’s enthusiasm in his letter to Macarius would suggest that he understood this to be a miraculous rediscovery of the physical evidence for the passion:

“If all those from every part of the world with a reputation for wisdom were to gather together in one place and try to say something worthy of the event, they would not be able to compete with the least part of it. The evidence of this miracle surpasses every natural capacity of human thought….”117 And the boast Constantine had published on his

statue erected in Rome to commemorate his earlier victory over Maxentius in 312 CE

could just as easily have been spoken here: “I liberated and restored [it] to [its] ancient

splendor and brilliance.”118 The emperor was not satisfied simply restoring the

“evidence” (the tomb) to sight, however; and he would go on to lavish it with the kind of

structure that only imperial resources could muster.

Both the emperor and the bishop portray this building activity in Jerusalem as a

process of restoration. In Constantine’s reckoning, the restoration coincided with his

ridding the empire of its “enemy.” For Eusebius, it was a restoration of a long-hidden

symbol. As such, he shows concern for instructing the soul through visual evidence. He

117 !"#3.30.2.

118 !" 1.40.2. Compare his commands concerning the site at Mamre, which had been polluted by Pagan practices: “This site should be both kept clear of every defilement and $%&'($%)#[*+*,*-%&*&'.*/]#'(#/'&# *+0/%+'#.(-1#&'*'%.” I discuss this location in Chapter 4.

111 stresses the pedagogical role of such physical activity, and how it can act to guide souls in their journey through matter. His accounts of these structures, in other words, are geared toward psychagogy, with the material evidence playing a role analogous to the

Christian body.

The emperor and the bishop were approaching the above situations with different taxonomies; each deployed discourses that were native to their particular social positions.

Eusebius, however, has succeeded in controlling the conversation down to our own era. It remains important, therefore, to deconstruct his work—as well-trodden and singular as it is—precisely because of how largely it looms and how loud its voice.

Preview of Chapter 3

In the following chapter, I pursue the question: did Constantine and his officials treat

cultic structures differently from their predecessors? Here, I seek to better situate his

actions within the context of his immediate imperial forerunners. Eusebius had drawn a

line between Constantine and his predecessors. I try to blur that line by considering

certain characteristics of Roman administrative, economic, political, and legal history that

complicate the Eusebian image.

My focus upon the Roman imperial context is not, however, an attempt to seek more

“secular” or non-theological explanations for Constantine’s religious policies. While I

separate out some economic motivations for some actions taken against Pagan

sanctuaries, I do this for analytical purposes only and do not claim that these aspects of

the imperial process are necessarily theologically neutral. I argue that recent attempts to

move the discussion of Constantine’s (and his successors’) acts against Paganism from

112 the theological to the political are, I think, understandable in the light of previous scholarship, but incomplete.

I seek in this chapter to acknowledge some of the wider issues that emperors had to attend to and the further social implications of this change in religious patronage. I point out, for instance, some of the economic implications of temple closures and the shift of property to Christians. I argue also that Constantine’s redistribution of property among these religious communities should be seen within the historical context of the end, more or less, of Roman territorial expansion and its repercussions for tax revenue.

I argue that it is possible to expand upon the history of Roman actions taken against religious associations and their property by juxtaposing them with the on-going potential for other forms of corporate control and discipline, such as slavery, property confiscation, and the use of violent, exemplary punishments in the courts. In addition, I point out how the marked increase in the military presence in many cities and towns due to their relocation from the frontiers by Constantine would also have an effect on such imperial social policies.

I then attempt to situate Constantine’s actions for and against temples within the long history of victorious generals and their practice of, on the one hand, pillaging and sacking of temples for booty, and, on the other, building, and decorating with this war booty, houses for those gods whom they felt secured them their success. I wish to point out, in other words, that temples had always been favored sites for the display of military domination and imperial ideology, and that, as a consequence, their spoliation was not a practice unique to the fourth century.

113

The end of the chapter is an attempt to situate Constantine within the broader scholarly revisioning of the history of the Later Roman Empire, with its questions of continuity and change and, ultimately, explanations for fragmentation.

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$ CONSTRUCTING CONSTANTINE: EUSEBIUS AND THE CONSTANTINIAN BUILDING PROGRAM

In order to help temper Eusebius’ idealization of Constantine’s activities (and its influence on subsequent interpretations), I have been examining them from the perspective of the imperial office, keeping in mind its precedents, procedures, expectations, and limitations. I have done this in order to better ground explanations of his religious policies in what was expected and possible for an emperor in the early fourth century. Such an approach does not ignore questions of ideology or religion, though. I am instead claiming that in this case such questions can be more fully addressed by examining the practices of the imperial administration in particular.

On that note, a question that haunts all scholarship on Constantine’s religious policies is whether his actions were motivated by piety or pragmatism. Conclusions have often come down on one side or another, as if the two were mutually exclusive. Did, for instance, Constantine call the council of Nicaea out of a fundamental desire for political unity among his subjects or was he actively concerned about the nature of Christ? Did he halt the persecutions of Christians and show them imperial favor (through, among other things, the construction of churches) because he was convinced of the truth of

Christianity or because he recognized them to be a force to be reckoned with? Or, as it was recently put on the CNN special “After Jesus”: was Constantine’s vision of Christ a miracle or just politics?1

1 CNN, Dec. 21, 2007.

148

149

I would suggest that the question of piety or pragmatism is a false and anachronistic dichotomy here.2 Making a major decision or setting out on a campaign was, for the emperor, predicated upon ascertaining divine will. Much could be said here about the role of the !"#$%&'()% and augurs, as well as the importance of dreams, omens, and prodigies for Roman military commanders before setting out on a campaign.3 Constantine’s vision before his battle with Maxentius, for all its theological import, was also a political and military vision.4 It was, according to Eusebius, accompanied by a succinct message: )*+

,-$,!+*'."+(or, more commonly in Latin: '*+!-(+%'/*-+0'*()%).5 Ancient politics and religion were not separable realms of action (and whether they are in our era is another matter); instead, practices that we would associate with one or the other were not necessarily construed in separate terms or as discrete spheres of operation.6 Consider, for example, the following representation of Constantine by Eusebius:

2 Bryan Ward-Perkins has presented a helpful counterargument to the piety/pragmatism debate, arguing instead for an “interrelationship between ideology and pragmatism.” See his “Re-using the Architectural Legacy of the Past, 1*,#)+234-5-/')+),+6#"/7",'%7),” in G.P. Brogiolo and Bryan Ward-Perkins, eds., 8!)+ 23)"+"*3+23)"5+-9+,!)+8-:*+;),:))*+<",)+=*,'>$',?+"*3+,!)+1"#5?+@'335)+=/)% (Leiden: Brill, 1999) 225- 44. Referring to the Arch of Constantine, he writes, “the ideological and the pragmatic explanations are not necessarily in conflict…. Whether we see the decision as primarily pragmatic (with the ideological perhaps following as an excuse for a cheap solution), or whether we see the ideological as the motivating force, will be very much a matter of scholarly fashions.” They were “in fact inextricably linked” (232-33).

3 For example, according to another life of our emperor, on the eve of battle with Constantine, “Licinius, who was on the point of attacking, slaughtered victims to his gods, propitiating them with the sacrifices proper to each, examined the entrails, observed the movements and voices of the birds, and gazed at the stars, considering thence what fate held in store” (section 14 in Hans-Georg Opitz, “Die Vita Constantini des Codex Angelicus 22,” ;?A"*,'-* [1934] 535-93, reproduced in Philip R. Amidon, ed., 6!'5-%,-#/'$%B+ C!$#(!+D'%,-#? [Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2007] 189).

4 The “historical accuracy” of the vision is not important here. What is important is that the very fact of having a vision was not considered to be exceptional in such a military situation.

5 EC 1.28.2. The appearance of a textual message within a celestial vision is perhaps unprecedented. According to a later version of the vision, there were “starry letters spelling out for him in Latin the victory in the battle” (=#,)7''+6"%%'- 45 in Amidon, 6!'5-%,-#/'$%, 9).

6 Cameron and Hall (<'9)+-9+C-*%,"*,'*), 34-35) on this theme running throughout Eusebius’ writings on the emperor: “Constantine’s religious role leads directly to political and military success. This thinking is the Christian version of Roman imperial ideology….”

150

As a loyal and good servant, he [Constantine] would perform this [the cleansing of humanity of the godless multitude] and announce it, openly calling himself a slave and confessing himself a servant of the All sovereign, while God in recompense was close at hand to make him Lord and Despot, the Conqueror among the Emperors of all time to remain Irresistible and Unconquered, Ever- conquering and always brilliant over enemies….7

This passage expresses well not only the dynamic of reciprocity expected to be in operation between the emperor and his divine overlord (“God in recompense…”), but also how interlinked Constantine’s military success was seen to be with his relationship with (a) god. Eusebius does not shy away in any way from announcing the precise terms of this relationship (and remember that he is most likely addressing this to his sons, the new emperors). He even casts the Council of Nicaea as an imperial victory celebration:

“That one [the first synod] however was a celebration of victory, which offered prayers of thanksgiving in the twentieth year of his reign for the defeat of enemies and foes at the very Place of Victory (Nicaea).”8

I point this out because the “pragmatic” side of this dichotomy is generally assumed to refer to a political, non-religious perspective on the part of the emperor. In other words, that Constantine took the course of action that he did with certain Christian communities strictly because he saw political advantage in aligning himself with their well-defined, trans-local, and numerically significant organization. Such an explanation usually implies that his decisions here were insincere. This question is impossible to adjudicate, however, and it raises another difficulty with this line of inquiry: the question of an individual’s motivation, like that of an author’s intentions, is an intractable one. In

7 !" 1.6.

8 !" 4.47.

151 some cases, as I discussed in Chapter 2, we have the written words of the emperor addressing a specific situation. This is where our analysis should be focused – the rhetoric employed, the ideas expressed, how he presents himself, the categories he employs, etc. These are critical issues to keep in mind when commenting on the actions

Constantine took in relation to cultic sites.

In what follows, I discuss the specific actions that Constantine took toward Pagan and

Christian cultic sites. There are three main regions where Constantine concentrated his building energies: Rome, Palestine, and Constantinople. Each presents its own difficulties in terms of interpretation, that is, how to explain his choices within the cultic landscape of the time. It is not my intention to present an exhaustive account of these activities, however. Instead, I present a selection of the major sites in order to highlight certain characteristics of Constantine’s actions. In my redescription, I tend to stress that these moves (both constructive and destructive) represent the traditional practices of a victorious !"#$%&'(%, which were designed to promote and demote specific divine and human relationships. I do not attempt to discern whether he did these things more for political or religious reasons. The language and actions associated with military triumph and the subsequent acts of vengeance have their requisite religious content. In this regard, as I mentioned in Chapter 1, I think that Eusebius’ language of triumph is to some degree appropriate. The question is, though: whose triumph? The answer to this, too, is perspectival. For Constantine, )$ was the victor, that is, he and all those allied with him—both human and divine.

152

!"#$%&#%'#($)*'+%",: Building Activity in Rome9)

Maxentius had ruled from Rome for six years prior to his defeat by Constantine on

October 28, 312 at the Milvian Bridge north of the city.10 When the new '-./,&%", entered the ancient capital following his victory, Maxentius’ severed head was paraded

through the city on the end of a spear. Almost immediately, Constantine set about on an

extensive building program in and around the monumental center of Rome.11 As E. D.

Hunt notes, however, “Rome’s new master had no need to devise a monumental agenda

of his own, since after October 312 it was open to him simply to hijack Maxentius’

unfinished building legacy, and usurp for himself the political credit to which his rival

had aspired.”12 Constantine publically depicted himself as a kind of new Augustus (i.e.,

Octavian), one who was liberating the city from the yoke of tyranny and restoring the

senate and people to its ancient dignity.13 Recall, from Chapter 2, the inscription on his

victory statue: “By this salutary sign, the true proof of valor, I liberated your city, saved

from the tyrant’s yoke; moreover the Senate and People of Rome I liberated and restored

to their ancient splendor and brilliance.”

His building activity there (including the Christian basilicas), much of which

followed fast on the heels of his removal of Maxentius, then, ought to be considered in

9 The following discussion of Constantine’s building activity in Rome is heavily indebted to E. D. Hunt’s essay, “Imperial Building at Rome,” in Kathryn Lomas and Tim Cornell, eds., 01,/&2))!',+($/$34) 5(/,6/%'$-))7(#'+'.&8)9&%,"#&6/)'#):"-&#);%&8< (London: Routledge, 2003) 105-24.

10 He was the last emperor to reside at Rome.

11 I use “Constantine,” or any emperor’s name, as a shorthand for the entire cadre of officials that must have been involved in planning and carrying out these constructions. “The fact is we lack information about the formal procedures by which Constantine made arrangements for the building of the Roman churches…” (Hunt, “Imperial Building,” 116).

12 “Imperial Building,” 107.

13 =! 1.40.2.

153 the light of this official self-conception, that is, as expressions of military victory.14 Of course, these projects were not presented as a continuation of his predecessor’s work.

According to Aurelius Victor, “Each of the magnificent works which Maxentius constructed—the Shrine of the City [Temple of Venus and Rome?] and the Basilica— was credited by the Senators to Constantine.”15 Constantine’s architectural reworkings

had the effect of redirecting attention and power and memory away from Maxentius and

his family. This functioned as a kind of architectural !"#$"%&'(#)#'*&"), but one that was built upon convenience. In fact, the famous colossal head of Constantine, now propped up with other body parts in the courtyard of the Palazzo dei Conservatori, may have been a reworked depiction of Maxentius.16 The statue had been positioned to

overlook the courts of the city prefect from a perch in the western apse of the colossal

Basilica(Constantiniana, itself a Maxentian project still under construction by the time of

Constantine’s arrival.17 In many respects, Constantine was fortunate that Maxentius’

projects had not yet been completed.

The eve of the battle against Maxentius has traditionally been deemed the moment of

Constantine’s conversion to Christianity, which was followed very soon thereafter by

14 “Rome’s victorious liberator could not but also be her material benefactor. From the start, I have argued, this was dictated by competition with the extensive building plans of his ousted rival…” (Hunt, “Imperial Building,” 108).

15 Sextus Aurelius Victor, +&,)*(!)(-")."*&,/. 40.26. Translated with an introduction and commentary by H. W. Bird (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1994).

16 See, e.g., Filippo Coarelli, 01(2'*'(3'#"$'4(5)*&'!'(6*7"&7' (Rome: Edizioni Quasar, 1983) 49 n 39 (citing Paul Zanker). The heads of the emperors Trajan, Hadrian, and Marcus Aurelius in the reliefs re-used on the Arch of Constantine were also reworked into contemporary portraits.

17 This basilica was also referred to as the Basilica Nova, and in some recent scholarship the Basilica of Maxentius (e.g., Carlo Giavarini et al., eds., 89)(:".&1&7"(';(<"=)$%&/.4(89)(<'$/#)$%>(0%.(<"%)*&"1.>( -'$.%*/7%&'$>("$!(?%",&1&%@ [Rome: L'Erma di Bretschneider, 2005]).

154 construction of the Lateran basilica, the seat of the bishop of Rome.18 However, this tidy image is complicated (as all tidy images of Constantine eventually are) by the fact that, as part of his reworking of the Maxentian legacy, Constantine also took up the project of rebuilding Hadrian’s massive Temple of Venus and Rome. “One of the largest and grandest of the capital’s religious buildings,” this sanctuary, which stood between the new basilica and the Flavian amphitheater (the Colisseum), had been badly damaged in a fire six years before.19 In addition, Constantine appears to have appropriated the construction of the so-called “Temple of Romulus,” a circular structure built on the opposite side of the new basilica to honor Maxentius’ recently deceased son and his family’s claims to Roman legitimacy through its ancient founder.20 With these building activities, Constantine sought to eclipse the memory of Maxentius, and was even hailed as the “true Romulus” by one panegyricist.21

18 Hartwin Brandt, for instance, has boldly claimed that, “For the first time we meet the !"#$%&$'( emperor Constantine on October 29, 312 – not a single day before!” (“Constantine the Great – the first Christian Emperor. New Perspectives?” Unpublished paper delivered at Brown University, Dec. 12, 2006).

19 Interestingly, this temple would eventually be mined for materials for the new St. Peter’s Cathedral that would replace the old Constantinian basilica in the 17th c. It is doubtful that Constantine remained associated in any way with this temple.

20 This building, the function of which is debated, was later incorporated into the church of SS Cosmas and Damian.

21 )'(*+,'&* 12(9) 18.1. On the famous, and notoriously difficult to interpret, Arch of Constantine, I will only mention that, among the numerous images reused from previous monuments, there included images of imperial sacrifice to Apollo, Hercules, Diana, and Silvanus, as well as representations of Sol and Luna. The polyvalence of religious imagery under Constantine though has been frequently noted. For a hilarious fictional exchange between Constantine and the architect of his arch, see Evelyn Waugh, -./.(' (Boston: Little, Brown, 1959) chap. 8. I have not seen it mentioned, however, that the arch, when approached from the south, would have framed Nero’s colossus, which was still standing in the fourth century (the colossus is mentioned in the 01&$&$' and !2#$1%23) and had been reworked into an image of Sol as part of the 4'3('&$1 of Nero. See L. Richardson, Jr., 5+0.6+71819#'8"$:'/+;$:&$1('#<+1=+5(:$.(&+>13. (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992) %*?* “Colossus Solis (Neronis).”

155

The “theme of triumph over the tyrant” can also be seen in the choice for his other

Basilica Constantiniana, the Lateran basilica.22 This monumental structure, very possibly

the first of his many Christian endowments in the empire, was sited in a wealthy

neighborhood in a south-east section of the city (the Caelian). More significantly,

however, it was built partially upon the ruins of the huge camp for the praetorian cavalry

(!"#$%"&'()*$)+&#*,-)."%*)+), which had been an elite military arm of Maxentius’

forces.23 Not only did Constantine wipe out the military units that had been loyal to his

vanquished rival (he destroyed their other camps also24), in this case, he set up where

they once had been stationed a victory monument in honor of his patron deity. To

contemporary residents who saw the transformation of the site from !"#$%" to ")." (hall),

the triumphal message would have been unavoidable.25 This is not to say, however, that

this plot of land was not also employed for other reasons: namely, that it was a large

piece of newly-vacated imperial property in a very crowded city (the basilica also stood

partly over an imperial palace). But this fact of convenience cannot overshadow the

symbolic value of the act. It should also be suggested, however, that the eradication of

22 The creation of which “belongs integrally to the victory context of the rest of [his] imperial building programme in Rome” (Hunt, “Imperial Building,” 111). But, see also Dale Kinney for important distinctions between this building and earlier public basilicas: “The Church Basilica,” in /+0'%*".&1%$&"#& 23%*#$*",&1%$4&23%*#$*",&1%$&"#&/+0'%*".&1%$5&670%'##*8,&",9&:'",*,-&*,&1%$&",9&1%!3*$'!$)%'&;%8+& 28,#$",$*,'&$8&<)#$*,*",&(Rome: Bardi Editore, 2001) esp. 128ff.

23 The camp had been built as part of the military reforms of Severus Alexander. Originally outside of the 08+'%*)+, it was situated within the later walls of Aurelian. It was not the only camp in the region though: “The Caelian [by the third century] became a distinctive district of the city combining rich aristocratic houses and a concentration of military encampments” (Curran, ="-",&2*$>, 25).

24 Zosimus ?'@&A*#$8%> 2.17.2.

25 Even in spite of the fact that the basilica was located on imperial lands (part of %'#&0%*B"$") and was uncustomarily devoid of external symbolic imagery or inscription. 28,$%" Olof Brandt’s claim (“Constantine, the Lateran, and Early Church Building Policy” in /+0'%*".&1%$&"#&23%*#$*",&1%$4&23%*#$*",& 1%$&"#&/+0'%*".&1%$) that the basilica would not have been viewed as a public building. The building was 90 feet in height.

156 such a large praetorian camp within the city was likely met with relief by the citizenry, given the fact that these soldiers garrisoned among the populace had a reputation for inflicting violence upon ordinary people.26

In addition, Constantine had another basilica erected south-east of the city near the

Lateran along the !"#$%#&"'#(#. This martyr shrine (later Sts. Marcellinus and Peter) was

situated in a burial ground with Christian catacombs and previously used by the same

)*+",)-$-"(.+/#0)-.27 This church became the site of his mother Helena’s burial.28

Even many of Constantine’s martyr shrines can be understood, as Hunt argues, within

the context of victory over his rivals. Maxentius had further promoted his and his son’s

dynastic claims to power by erecting a circular mausoleum to the founder Romulus (with

villa and circus) in the burial grounds three miles outside the city walls along the !"#$

122"#.29 Constantine, in turn, built a &#-"/"'#$#23-,3/30+4 (now St. Sebastian) across the

road dedicated to Peter and Paul, the founders of Christianity in Rome. Some scholars

have even suggested, due to similarities in the building techniques of the mausoleum and

basilica, that this assembly hall was started during the reign of Maxentius. As Hunt notes,

“it is hard to resist the conclusion that among the tombs along the Appian Way SS Peter

and Paul were being drawn into that same competition with (and appropriation of) the

building legacy of Maxentius.” He goes on to ask, “was the new monument to the

apostolic forebears of the Roman church Constantine’s own distinctive answer to the

26 See Curran, 5#.#($6",7, 34-35. “Acting sometimes upon imperial orders and sometimes on their own initiative, the praetorian cohorts put several thousands of Romans to death in the years which separated Severus and Diocletian” (42).

27 Hunt, “Imperial Building,” 114.

28 Mark J. Johnson, “Architecture of Empire,” in 6616, 289.

29 Hunt, “Imperial Building,” 106.

157 heritage of Romulus claims by his ousted predecessor and advertised in the mausoleum across the road?”30 All this raises the questions about the possible dynastic symbolism of

Constantine’s Christian temples in Rome. His biographer, Eusebius, associated the

formation and peace and prosperity of the Augustan empire with the advent of Christ.

And, like Romulus, Peter and Paul could be understood as having founded a new age for

Rome: a new civilizing process of Roman hegemony under the aegis of Christ.

Constantine seems also to have sought to outdo Maxentius by elaborately adorning

the Circus Maximus in response to the new circus built along the !"#$%&&"#. And, as if in

imitation of Augustus, he made plans (eventually carried out by his son Constantius II) to

have an Egyptian obelisk shipped over and erected in the center of the circus. The obelisk

now stands in front of the Lateran.31 The emperor’s attention to the circus also had

religious significance. For as John Curran notes, “the games at the Circus Maximus…

[were] traditionally connected with Roman '()"*"+.”32 The circus contained, among other

things, a temple of the sun, various altars, and a statue of Kybele.33

The basilica dedicated to the apostle Peter on the Vatican hill raises its own set of

interpretive problems, first and foremost of which is under whose reign do we attribute its

initial construction. Like several other subsequent important actions, the building of this

grand basilica (which was even larger than the Lateran [122 m in length versus 100 m])

30 Ibid., 112.

31 Ibid., 108.

32 ,#*#-$."/0, viii. There is a very interesting similarity between the form of a circus (with starting gates and curved end) and that of the cemetery churches outside Rome linked to Constantine (SS. Marcellino e Pietro, S. Lorenzo, S. Agnese, and S. Sebastiano), which accommodated the circumambulation of those honoring the dead (see Johnson, “Architecture of Empire,” 287-88).

33 See fig. 30 in Curran, ,#*#-$."/0.

158 eventually came to be associated with Constantine.34 Glen Bowersock, however, has

recently pointed out the uncertainty of this association.35 Textual evidence for this

connection comes from the highly tendentious !"#$%&'()*"+",-."/, written about two

centuries after his death. According to the !', Constantine granted the church substantial

properties, all of which were located in the eastern part of the empire. These data have

commonly been used to date the initial construction of the St. Peter’s to sometime after

324, since such lands were not Constantine’s to give until after his defeat of Licinius, the

Augustus of the East, in that year. Here again, though, we are working backwards from a text suspected of many anachronisms: “the endowment listings in the !"#$%&'()*"+",-."/

are a confection of items from mutually incompatible periods.”36 It is clear, however, that

later generations at least not only attributed the founding of St. Peter’s to Constantine, but

they also saw it as a gift of thanks from a victorious military commander. A mosaic

visible on the triumphal arch within the basilica (at the intersection of the nave and

transept) and recorded sometime before the ninth century, showed Constantine handing

the church to Christ and Peter with the following text: 01(2&21,$&*$&31)21/&/1%%$4"*&")&

-/*%-&*%"1356-)/&7&6-),&8()/*-)*")1/&9",*(%&*"#"&,()2"2"*&-1.-3 (“Because under your

34 Gregory T. Armstrong lists 33 churches across the empire that have been wrongly attributed to Constantine. See “Constantine’s Churches,” :$/*- 6 (1967) 1-9. For the rich afterlife of Constantine and the ascription of deeds to him posthumously, see A. Kazhdan, “’Constantin imaginaire’: Byzantine Legends of the Ninth Century about Constantine the Great,” ;<=-)*"() 57 (1987) 196-250; and now, Samuel N.C. Lieu, “Constantine in Legendary Literature,” in Lenski, 88>8, 298-321.

35 Glen W. Bowersock, “Peter and Constantine,” in Jean-Michel Carrié, Rita Lizzi Testa, eds., ?Humana Sapit”: @*12$/&2A-)*"01"*B&*%-2"9$&(++$%*$/&C&!$.."-&8%-,,"(&D1EE")" (Turnhout: Brepols, 2002) 209-17.

36 Bowersock, “Peter and Constantine,” 216. “It was, of course, very much in the interest of the popes to trace their authority to Constantine. In the course of time the Constantinian connection may have helped in any rivalry with the Lateran church at Rome, which is generally agreed to have preceded St. Peter’s” (215).

159 leadership the world in triumph has risen to the stars, victorious Constantine has founded this hall for you”).37

E. D. Hunt ascribes the initial construction of St. Peter’s to Constantine (with its

completion coming during the reign of Constantius II) – as do most scholars. Much of

this rests (quite literally) on the discovery of a coin found in a sealed urn below the

basilica dating to 317/318 CE.38 According to standard archaeological practice, such

numismatic evidence provides a !"#$%&'()*+(!),'"$ for construction. The building of the

church, in other words, had to have begun after that date. This, in addition to the

endowment of eastern lands according to the -., suggests to many scholars that the title

“/+&(!0&!%&'()1%2!+#” mentioned within the church)refers to Constantine’s defeat of the

last of his fellow Augusti, Licinius (which put an end to Diocletian’s tetrarchic

meritocracy). Regardless of the precise reference, though, the martial overtones are

clear.39

Interestingly enough for our purposes, the new imperial Christian basilica may have

disrupted a Pagan cultic site. The -. claims that this basilica was erected over a temple to

37 /3- VI, 1, no. 6 = ICVR, n.s. II, 4092; in Bowersock, “Peter and Constantine,” 213-14.

38 Published in Margherita Guarducci, “Una moneta della Necropoli Vaticana,” in 4"&5%2+&!%)5"660) .+&!%7%2%0)82205"$%0)4+$0&0)5%)8#29"+6+:%0, 39 (1966-1967) 135-43. See Bowersock, “Peter and Constantine,” 216; also Johnson, “Architecture of Empire,” 287. As far as I can determine, however, Iacopo Grimaldi, who documented the destruction of the basilica in the early 17th c., recorded two medallions (“$"50:6%0”) and a gold coin (obverse: figure of Christ; reverse: figures kneeling before cross with legend “CONSTANTINUS ET HELENA ”) that had been found beneath the foundations, as well as monogrammed tiles, all dating from Constantine’s reign. See Rodolfo Lanciani, ;!+#%0)5":6%);201%)5%)4+$0 Vol. 5 (Rome: Edizioni Quasar, 1994) 49-52; Paolo Liverani, -0)<+*+:#07%0)8&!%20)5"6)=0!%20&+ (Vatican City: 1999) 136-37 no. 63.

39 Hunt, “Imperial Building,” 113-14. “Where the Lateran basilica had been an expression of victory after the Milvian Bridge, similarly the great church honouring Rome’s founding apostle Peter may be seen to reflect the triumph against Licinius.”

160

Apollo.40 This was certainly not true, however, since modern excavations have revealed a

vast necropolis directly beneath the church that can be visited today. There was, though, a

sanctuary to Magna Mater somewhere in the same area to the north of the Circus of Gaius

and Nero (the !"#$#%&'( mentioned in the fourth-century )*+#+#% and ,'"#*-'(). The

impact of the construction of the basilica on the sanctuary is debated (i.e., whether it

temporarily halted the practice of +%'"*.*/#'( [with bulls] and 0"#*.*/#'(1[with rams]).41

A number of altars dedicated to Kybele were uncovered in the early 17th c. in the area

directly in front of the fourth-century basilica (underneath the present façade of St.

Peter’s).42 Based upon these inscribed altars, though, it would seem that some kind of

shrine associated with Magna Mater directly adjacent to this large Christian assembly hall

was in operation and frequented by senators until the late fourth century.

Curran, who also ascribes the initiation of the basilica to Constantine, writes that

“Enormous efforts were made to build the basilica on precisely this spot on the Vatican

Hill in such a way that the shrine of Saint Peter could be included in the transept. A

functioning necropolis was partially destroyed by a vast artificial terrace….”43 The tombs

in this (or any) Roman necropolis could only be interfered with by the authority of the

2*&+#3451(%5#('-, i.e., Constantine. In addition, a great amount of marble architectural

elements from other Roman edifices were reused to decorate the interior of the basilica.

40 “6*74(1+4(2*"418'$'-+'-1,*&-+%&+#&'-1340#+1.%-#/#0%(1.4%+*194+"*1%2*-+*/*1#&1+4(2/'(182*//*&#-” (:4 :#.4"19*&+#3#0%/#-;1Edited by L. Duchesne and Cyrille Vogel [Paris: E. de Boccard, 1955] 176.1).

41 See, e.g., Bowersock, “Peter and Constantine”; Robert Turcan, <=41,'/+-1*31+=41>*(%&16(2#"4 (Oxford: Blackwell, 1996) 70; Curran, 9%$%&1,#+?, 110-11.

42 See ,@: vi. 497-504; Maria A. Tomei, Paolo Liverani, eds., ,%"+%18"0=4*/*$#0%17#1>*(%A19"#(*1 B'%7"%&+4 (Rome: Edizioni Quasar, 2005) 279 nos. 360, 361; for Grimaldi’s drawings, see Lanciani, C+*"#%1 Vol. 5, fig. 50 (one dedicated to Constantine’s father, Constantius I, and Maximian; others to Valentinian and Gratian).

43 9%$%&1,#+?, 110.

161

Some of the marble architraves spanning capitals in the nave were inscribed with the names of such emperors as Titus, Trajan, and Gallienus; and two of the capitals themselves had representations of the bust of Hadrian.44 The practice of incorporating

disparate pieces of earlier imperial constructions was not unique to the Arch of

Constantine, in other words.

The building of St. Peter’s is a very complicated issue, and one of which I have only

scratched the surface. Bowersock’s inquiry, however, began with the observation that “it

is a fact, rarely observed, that most accounts of the reign of Constantine usually fail to

mention either Peter or the Vatican at all. Historians of the first Christian emperor of

antiquity seem to find no occasion whatever to comment upon Constantine’s interest in

Peter or his supposed foundation of the original basilica on the slope of the Vatican

hill.”45 I suspect, however, that this silence is in large part due to a larger and surprising

silence of his first biographer, Eusebius – about which I will say more below.

Constantine’s attempts to supplant Maxentius were highly successful,46 due in no

small measure to the fact that no emperor except Augustus stayed in power so long (just

over three decades). And, contrary to most claims, he continued to lavish imperial

!"#"$%&%' upon the ancient capital even after founding his “new Rome.”47 Historiography

44 Rodolfo Lanciani, ('#)"*%#+,-./*01+/-2#&%"#.-304'#-5/1*&/", (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1924) 98.

45 “Peter and Constantine,” 209. He ends by suggesting that his son Constans probably built the basilica. It is not clear to me what Bowersock makes of the !',%6%&'-'70,.060*14, which, as I understand it, was dedicated to Peter (and Paul).

46 Curran (8'+'#-5%.9, vii) writes that it is only now “possible to liberate [Maxentius] from his traditional historical backwater as an interlude in Constantine’s rise to power….”

47 He had an enormous bath complex built for the city, as had his predecessor Diocletian. Armstrong lists for Rome a total of five monumental basilicas and the mausoleum of Helena as “securely” attributable to Constantine, and three further churches attributed to his dynasty. Constantine’s family members also played a direct role in monumental construction projects in Rome. “Constantine’s Churches,” 1-9.

162 on Constantine has operated under the (Eusebian) assumption that Paganism and

Christianity were mutually exclusive arenas, thus giving rise to the view that he founded a new capital in order to shun the ancient center of Roman religion. Paradoxically, however, such a perspective has also contributed to the claim that Constantine did not dare to build Christian sanctuaries within the monumental center of the city in order to avoid offending its influential Pagan constituents. E. D. Hunt has refuted both of these positions by pointing out that Constantine continued to contribute public monuments to

Rome throughout his reign, and by arguing for the public and prominent nature even of his Christian endowments. Martyr shrines were built in the burial grounds on the outskirts of the city because that was where Christian practice had been focused for perhaps over

200 years.48 In addition, being located along the major avenues into the city meant that

they were among the first monumental structures to be seen by anyone approaching.49

All this puts Constantine squarely within the long-standing tradition of attending in particular to the needs of the people of Rome (!"#$%&'()*+) while seeking to maintain divine favor for the safety and prosperity of the empire.50 The fact that Constantine’s

patronage at Rome could also cut across any Pagan/Christian division we might expect is

48 A practice that was interrupted in 257 when Valerian forbid them to gather in their cemeteries (Curran, ,+-+.$/)01, 39-40). The imperial household had recognized the importance of these locations since the mid-third century. Gallienus allowed Christians to resume their memorial assemblies in 260.

49 Hunt, “Imperial Building,” 109, 115-18.

50 For a survey of imperial building projects in Rome throughout the third c., see Curran, ,+-+.$/)01, 5-26. Cameron and Hall (2)3"$43$/4.#0+.0).", 43-44): “In this respect Constantine [in the building of churches] is little different from his polytheistic predecessors. Purity of religion could even motivate a persecutor, and was held to preserve the divine favor, %+5$6"4!&7, for the whole Empire.”

163 testament to what John Curran has referred to as “the powerful integrative forces acting upon emperors.”51

On the question of what all this activity may say about Constantine’s divine

allegiances I will offer only a few, disparate comments. First of all, I think that, as I have

briefly highlighted, Constantine did not seem to want Maxentius to be remembered for

!"# major public works in Rome, including the Temple of Venus and Rome. This goal, I

think, trumped all else. In addition, emperors were expected to attend to the empire’s

major cultic structures. By the fourth century, only they controlled the resources for such

projects. The Temple to Venus and Rome was considered to be emblematic of the city of

Rome itself, as is likely evident from Aurelius Victor’s words above. For Constantine to

enter the city and then call for the cessation of repair work on this enormous structure

dedicated to keeping the ancient city secure and prosperous might well have been seen as

a particularly egregious act for the new defender of Rome. In fact, this “act” may have

been no more than simply not interfering in the work that was already underway. We

should also not so readily assign all these actions and messages to him directly. It is

unlikely, in other words, that they all originated from the hand of the emperor. Finally,

for all the centuries of wrangling over his religion and how to incorporate the Pagan

elements into his devotion to the Christian god, I think it is valid to say that Constantine

did not make the same rigid distinction between Christianity and Paganism as Eusebius

did (I will add to this below).

51 $!%!"&'()#, viii. Curran highlights the “complex interdependence of emperor and citizens”: “Prudent imperial sponsorship of the events and facilities was an obligation which permitted emperors sometimes to gauge the temper of citizens and instilled in citizens themselves a particularly Roman self-confidence” (4).

164

And if Constantine seems idiosyncratic in his promotion of a divine patron foreign to the Roman pantheon, we should keep in mind that he had his predecessors in this as well.

As Curran points out, “until the reign of Maxentius, most of the new temples built by emperors in the city of Rome during the third century were constructed in honour of deities originally worshipped in the eastern Mediterranean.”52

It is worthwhile to briefly review these third century innovations. In 215, Caracalla

ordered a new grandiose temple to Isis and Serapis to be built on the Quirinal (perhaps

modeled upon the Alexandrian Serapeum). Elagabalus commissioned a large (nearly 60

m long) and, for Rome, atypical new temple to the god Heliogabalus built on the Palatine

(likely modeled on the Heliogabalium at Emesa in Syria; but rededicated to Jupiter Ultor

by his successor Severus Alexander), had another built in the suburbs (perhaps in the

south-east), and possibly a temple to the Carthaginian goddess Dea Caelestis on the

Capitol itself. Severus Alexander is said (“mischievously reported”) to have images of

Apollonius of Tyana, Abraham, Orpheus, and Christ in his !"#, and even considered

erecting a temple to Christ.53 Gallienus exhibited a particular interest in Sol on his

coinage. Aurelian, in turn, dedicated a grandiose temple to Sol Invictus Elagabalus in

thanks for his victories over Zenobia of Palmyra in 274 (the larger of the two colonnaded

enclosures was 126 m long).54 He situated the temple next to Augustus’ $#"%&"'() and

52 Ibid., 8. “[T]he emperors who left the most pronounced impression on the source material were devotees of oriental gods. The real significance of the manifestations of these tastes is the degree to which they were public” (17). The new temples in the city “indicate the degree to which imperial tastes in religious matters was public and likely to be mapped out on the landscape of Rome” (42).

53 See Hist. Aug. $!*+. 43.6; 29.2.

54 Aurelian seems to have been contributing to a pre-existing cult of Sol in Rome, as evidenced by a temple to the god at the Circus Maximus (see Curran, &","-%.(/0, 16 n. 75).

165 the grand sun dial with its Egyptian obelisk.55 Constantine, in other words, was not the

first to offer an innovative political theology, and the Roman people had been forced to

tolerate their rulers’ religious idiosyncrasies many times before.

The architectural work begun under Constantine, however, was significantly more

extensive than that of his third-century predecessors, and would change the face of the

ancient capital forever. We would expect, then, that his biographer Eusebius would have

proudly accounted for his hero’s interventions in the Roman landscape, especially

considering the fact that he, among all the ancient historians on this period, seemed to be

particularly interested in presenting a Christianity that had visibly and spatially triumphed

over its Pagan rivals.56

Eusebius’ Silence on Constantinian Rome

The emperor’s construction activities across the empire were much more extensive

and diverse than even Eusebius presents.57 Scholars have noted some of the absences

from his accounts. Much has been made, for instance, of the absence of Golgotha from

the bishop’s account of the discovery and memorialization of the site of Christ’s tomb

and the implications for Eusebius’ theology and Palestinian ecclesiastical politics.58 Yet, much more glaring and remarkable is Eusebius’ silence on Constantine’s ambitious

55 Curran, !"#"$%&'(), 8-17.

56 Within the tradition of imperial panegyric Eusebius’ focus on church buildings is unusual. See Sabine MacCormack, “Latin Prose Panegyrics: Tradition and Discontinuity in the Later Roman Empire,” *+,-+% .(-/+0%1-#-0('$'+$$+ 22 (1976) 29-77.

57 On just churches, see Armstrong, “Constantine’s Churches,” 4-9. It is possible that as many as 40 churches rose during his reign – from Aquileia to Egypt.

58 See, for example, P. W. L. Walker, 234)%&'()5%23)%!4"6+078%&9:'0('"$%1(('(-/+0%(3%;+:-0"4+<%"$/%(9+% 234)%="$/%'$%(9+%>3-:(9%&+$(-:) (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990) esp. 252ff.

166 building program in the ancient symbolic center of the empire, Rome.59 Surely the bishop

did not purposely exclude his activity there because of the fact that some of it involved

the restoration of Pagan shrines. Eusebius was quite capable of ignoring these data, in

order to include the numerous major endowments that the emperor made for the Christian

community in and around Rome.60 Nor did he even need to know any specific

information about the churches being built there in order to make reference to them. He

does not, for instance, include the names of the churches endowed by the emperor in his

new capital, Constantinople. Instead, he writes, “In honoring with exceptional distinction

the city which bears his name, [Constantine] embellished it with very many places of

worship, very large martyr-shrines, and splendid houses.”61 Remarkably enough, then, it

seems unlikely that Eusebius was ever aware of the endowments in Rome. As far as I

know no one has attempted to explain this substantial gap in his knowledge.

Eusebius does not ignore the city of Rome entirely. He discusses both the history of

the church there and its episcopal lineage in his !"#$%&'(%)($*+(,*-&.* and the role that

Constantine played there in defeating Maxentius. His discussion of Constantine’s church

building (as well as temple desacralization), however, is limited to the eastern half of the

empire. In his /"$0(,%1#$01$"1", he gives accounts of the emperor’s specific endowments

for churches: in Palestine: the Churches of the Holy Sepulcher,62 Nativity in Bethlehem,

59 Even in the detailed narrative of the /"$0(,%1#$01$"1", which was likely written after the emperor’s death (Cameron and Hall, 2-#+3"-#4(5")+(%)(,%1#$01$"1+, 9).

60 For a fuller account of Constantine’s endowments, see Mark Johnson, “Architecture of Empire,” in Noel Lenski, ,,6,, 278-97; also Curran, 70801(,"$', 70-115. ( 61 /,(3.48.1.

62 /, 3.25-40.

167 and Ascension on the Mount of Olives63; at Mamre: the place of worship near “the

oak”64; in Constantinople: “many places of worship, very large martyr-shrines, and

splendid houses”65; in Bithynia: “a very large and splendid church… !"#$%&#'%("$)"

*+,($-. over his enemies and the foes of God”66 (this had been Diocletian’s capital); and

in Antioch: an octagonal church.67

The only indication that the bishop was at all aware of other building activities in the

West comes from his inclusion of a number of imperial letters written to civil and

ecclesiastical authorities that license them to build for the Christian communities using

funds from the imperial fisc. In a letter written to all metropolitan bishops following the

fall of Licinius, the emperor writes:

Where therefore you yourself are in charge of churches, or know other bishops and presbyters or deacons to be locally in charge of them, remind them to attend to the church buildings, whether by restoring or enlarging the existing ones, or where necessary building new. You yourself and the others through you shall ask for the necessary supplies from the governors and the office of the Prefect, for these have been directed to cooperate wholeheartedly with what your holiness proposes.68

These letters, although apparently distributed to “every province,”69 were not

circulated until after the defeat of Licinius in 324 CE. By this time, monumental

construction activity had been underway in Rome for 12 years (beginning immediately on

63 /0 3.41-43.4.

64"/0"3.51-53.

65 /0"3.48.1.

66 /0"3.50.1.

67 /0"3.50.2. Antioch had a long-standing Christian population.

68 /0"2.46.3. Alluded to in 12 10.2.15-17.

69 /0 2.46.4; to “those in charge of churches in each place” (2.45.2).

168 the heels of the death of Maxentius in 312 CE). Eusebius’ account of Constantine’s

Christian building policies in that year (“He also supplied rich help from his own resources to the churches of God, enlarging and elevating the places of worship, while beautifying the grander ecclesiastical sacred buildings with many dedications.”70) was written long after the fact, since there are no such references to the emperor’s constructions in the !""#$%&'%(&"'#)*&%(+,-. Instead, there is only a vague reference, written in the passive, about how “cathedrals were again rising from their foundations high into the air,” and the inclusion of a letter written to the bishop of Carthage in early

313 CE explaining how the provincial authorities have been directed to supply the church there with money.71 All other allusions to Constantine and church property refer to

restoring assets confiscated during persecution.72 Thus, we are led to the conclusion that,

“Probably Eusebius had no actual information about Constantine’s church building in

Rome [and in the West generally] after 312.”73

He was aware, however, that the tombs of both Peter and Paul in Rome received

pious attention from Christians. He had made mention of them in his !""#$%&'%(&"'#)

*&%(+,-)(ca. 316 CE). Quoting an early third century Roman Christian named Gaius, it

says: “I can point out the monuments of the victorious apostles. If you will go as far as

the Vatican or the Ostian Way, you will find the monuments of those who founded this

70 ./ 1.42.2.

71 *! 10.2, 6. The amount was 3000 0+##$%, an enormous sum. One 0+##&% could feed a person for a year (Drake, /+1%('1(&1$)'12)(3$)4&%3+5%, 215). And there is no indication of what this money was intended to be used for.

72 E.g., ./ 2.20.2-5; 2.30-42.

73 Cameron and Hall, !6%$7&6%8)9&0$)+0)/+1%('1(&1$, 220. Timothy Barnes, in his meaty analysis of Eusebius, does not point this out. He relies instead, as we must, on the fortunate preservation of the ) 9&7$,):+1(&0&"'#&% (/+1%('1(&1$)'12)!6%$7&6% [Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1981] 49).

169 church.”74 The term translated here as “monuments” is the Greek !"#$%&%. According to

Bowersock, “A ‘trophy’ was a Roman victory monument and not a tomb, although there

is no reason why such a monument should not have been erected above or around a

tomb.”75 The locations mentioned here correspond well with the sites of the later

basilicas honoring the two apostles. But, more specifically, excavations in the 1940s

under St. Peter’s in Rome exposed a small monument located below the present altar and

dated to 160 CE. This little structure is considered to be the “!"#$%&#'” of Peter on the

Vatican mentioned by Gaius.

A decade later, however, Eusebius would have no further information about the sites.

As he writes in his ()*#$)%'+, a text dated by Timothy Barnes to 325 CE: “even to this time, he [Simon Cephas] should be more celebrated among the Romans, than that of those of former times, so that he should be considered worthy of an honourable sepulchre in the very front of their city; and, that great multitudes of the Roman Empire should run to it, as to a great asylum and temple of God.”76 The use of “temple” here should not be

construed as a reference to a church building proper. Eusebius only says that people flock

to it &',!)*,-%.*,/%+ that people flock to a temple.77 And concerning Paul, he writes,

“The martyrdom of his death, and the sepulcher which [is erected] over him, are, even to

74 01 2.25.5-7.

75 Bowersock, “Peter and Constantine,” 211.

76 ()*#$)%'+ 4.7 (trans. by Samuel Lee [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1843]). I disagree with Glen Bowersock (“Peter and Constantine,” 216-17) when he concludes that, “This text is proof, not of the existence of the Vatican basilica in A.D. 325 but rather of its absence.” This assumes that Eusebius would have become quickly aware of construction activity in Rome. The text suggests to me, instead, only that Eusebius was unaware at the time of writing his ()*#$)%'+,in 325 of plans to build a basilica to Peter – for whatever reason.

77 Bowersock (Peter and Constantine,” 216): this reference in Eusebius “in no way document[s] the existence of the Vatican basilica.”

170 this day, greatly and abundantly honoured in the city of Rome.”78 It is clear that Eusebius

is speaking here only of tombs that have been singled out for memorial practices.79 There is no hint of the massive material endowments surrounding them that were underway at the time of his writing. Judging from these two texts, then, we must assume that Eusebius had no newer information about the situation at these sites than what he could gather from a century-old source.

How do we account for this surprising lacuna? To be sure, it is important to point out, as Harold Drake does, that Rome (and especially St. Peter’s) was not the symbolic center of the Christian state. In the fourth century, it was the Holy Sepulcher that reigned supreme among church buildings (Egeria refers to it as the “Great Church”). It was known as the “heavenly Jerusalem” and images of it were reproduced all over the empire.80 In addition, it is necessary to note, as Timothy Barnes has, that “[t]he !"#$%&#%

'&()*+(*"($%omits much… [and n]ot all the omissions are significant.”81 Barnes goes on

to say, however, that, while such matters as “dynastic politics fell outside the scope of the revised plan of the !"#$%[… t]he treatment of ecclesiastical politics is another matter.”82

Another consideration is the fact that Eusebius does not seem to have completed the !"#$ before he died.83

78 ,-$&.-+(/ 4.7 [Lee].

79 He mentions also the tomb of John the son of Zebedee in Ephesus (,-$&.-+(/ 4.7).

80 Drake, '&()*+(*"($%+(0%*-$%1")-&.), 273-74.

81 '&()*+(*"($%+(0%23)$4"3), 270. % 82 Ibid., 270. Eusebius’ silence on the murders of Constantine’s son Crispus and wife Fausta, as well as the dynastic murders following his death, can easily be explained as not fitting the image of the emperor as a model of godliness.

83 “The fact that the revision [of the initial panegyric oration into a document history] was never completed must not be ignored in any evaluation” (Barnes, '&()*+(*"($%+(0%23)$4"3), 265).

171

Obviously, Eusebius was no eyewitness to the events in Rome, nor did he seem to have access to any eyewitness accounts. The West was, for him, a faraway place, the location of “all the nations which border on the Ocean where the sun sets.”84

Although, in the !"#$, Eusebius repeats many passages from his account of

Constantine in his %&&'$(")(*"&)'+,"(*-./, he does add other information unknown

elsewhere. He mentions, for instance, that the emperor began to distribute benefactions to

the Christian communities immediately after his death of Maxentius in 312.85

Eusebius was a clergyman. His occupation was to oversee and instruct a sizable

Christian population centering on the provincial capital Caesarea. And while he wrote the

!"#$+-#+0-1(*)1*"1$ and 2."&$11")'+3.)*"-1( for an imperial courtly audience,86 the thrust

of his discourse is pastoral. The !"#$ was not an exhaustive 4$(+5$(*)$, but a portrait of

piety.87 Thus, for his account of the emperor’s activities in Rome in 312 CE, the bishop

selected events and characteristics that help further this goal. With authorial license, he

magnifies certain details while blurring or erasing others. The one Constantinian

84 60 1.41.2.

85 60 1.39ff; Barnes, 0-1(*)1*"1$+)17+%8($9"8(, 269.

86 “Eusebius wished [with the 60] to urge the continuation of the Constantinian settlement on Constantine’s sons.” (Cameron and Hall, !"#$+-#+0-1(*)1*"1$, 28).

87 “Eusebius proposed, moreover, to omit most of the conventional material of biography or panegyric. He would exclude warfare, treaties, and triumphs, he would exclude the emperor’s acts and laws through which in time of peace he produced success for the state or prosperity for his subjects; instead, he would concentrate on Constantine’s most notable achievement, his pursuit of piety” (Barnes, %8($9"8(+)17+ 0-1(*)1*"1$, 268). He strays from this plan, however. There is no one genre to which it readily adheres. It+ is broadly panegyrical, but it still contains an historical, documentary narrative. For a discussion of its style, see Cameron and Hall, !"#$+-#+0-1(*)1*"1$, esp. 27-34.

172 monument in Rome he mentions is a large (perhaps colossal) statue of the emperor.88

Even this description, however, is sublimated to an almost catechetical purpose:

He announced to all people in large lettering and inscriptions the sign of the Savior, setting this up in the middle of the imperial city as a great trophy of victory over his enemies, explicitly inscribing this in indelible89 letters as the salvific sign of the authority of Rome and the protection of the whole empire. He therefore immediately ordered a tall pole to be erected in the shape of a cross in the hand of a statue made to represent himself, and this text to be inscribed upon it word for word in Latin: ‘By this salutary sign, the true proof of valor, I liberated your city, saved from the tyrant’s yoke; moreover the Senate and the People of Rome I liberated and restored to their ancient splendor and brilliance.’90

We can see here again in this passage how the text preserves the two voices of the bishop

and the emperor; or, better yet, how Eusebius has recast Constantine’s public message.

For Eusebius, it is the saving sign, and the inscription that refers to it, that matters. The

statue of Constantine (perhaps refashioned to resemble him) seems to function only as an

instrument to hold and proclaim the cross. The self-congratulatory nature of the imperial

statue, which stands counter to the bishop’s portrait of a humble servant of the Christian

God, is passed over. 91 Constantine, however, while intent upon advertising the power of

88 “The inscription [with the statue] does not survive, and despite his claim to have heard of the vision from the lips of the emperor himself, the circumstances of Eusebius’s knowing about the statue and the inscription remain obscure” (Averil Cameron, !"#$%&$'($&)*'(+*&",*-",&.#$/*.0*123$#, [Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994] 61-63).

89 Here, as in his oration at the cathedral in Tyre, the use of “worthless matter” is sanctioned by the content of the message, which is eternal.

90 4! 1.40.1-2. This inscription is similar to that found on the Arch of Constantine, where instead of “salutary sign,” the phrase $(%&$(/&5*+$6$($&'% (“the instigation of the Divinity”) is used. Cameron and Hall (7$0,*.0*!.(%&'(&$(,, 216) write, “the language [of the arch inscription] is highly traditional (cf. Augustus -,%*8,%&', 1…). The same language could apply to conquests over civil enemies or usurpers, as in the -,% 8,%&',, or, as applied by Eusebius and others, to the defeat of the persecutors.”

91 Just one line before, he is described as one “being possessed of inward fear of God, [who] was not inflated by their [the citizens’] cries nor over-exuberant at their praises, but was conscious of the help of God” (4! 1.39.3).

173 his heavenly patron, is concerned with casting himself, as Augustus had done, as liberator and restorer of the republic.

As I have noted earlier, the bishop and the emperor reconstruct the scene using the rhetoric of their respective offices. Eusebius uses liturgical imagery to emphasize the newness of the situation: the emperor,

proudly confessing in this way the victory-bringing cross, was entirely open in making the Son of God known to the Romans. All the city’s population together, including the Senate and all the people, as they recovered from bitter tyrannical repression, seemed to be enjoying beams of purer light and to be participating in rebirth to a fresh new life…. set free from the evils which formerly oppressed them, kept rejoicing in happy gatherings as they hymned the mighty Victor, the Godfearing, the general Benefactor, and with one single voice….92

It is almost as if the bishop imagines what the scene in Rome in 312 CE was like while

sitting in his church in Caesarea: with beams of light pouring in on them, the congregants

sing in a single voice. Being reborn, they rejoice at the emperor’s confession.

Constantine’s rhetoric, on the other hand, is Augustan and reformative. He casts

himself not only as military liberator, but as the one who reestablishes Rome’s greatness:

“I liberated and restored to their ancient splendor and brilliance.” So while Eusebius’

representation of history here is progressive and linear, Constantine situates himself

within an oscillatory (almost cyclical) process of restoration and reform.

Representational tensions aside, however, Eusebius’ nearly complete ignorance of

Rome is curious and difficult to explain. Not only did he have access to one of the most

renowned libraries in antiquity (inherited from Origen), he had visited the court in

Constantinople and had personal contact with the emperor (where, he tells us, he heard

92 !" 1.41.2.

174 firsthand of that famous vision seen in the sky over the Tiber many years before).93 He

was clearly part of a large network of informed religious leaders, readily able to acquire imperial letters and documents covering many issues.94 His writings reveal that he was

also quite informed about particular Pagan sanctuaries across the empire, even if he

distorted the image of what took place therein.95

In addition, there were many who built upon his narrative of the times. It might be

helpful, then, to briefly examine the later Christian revisionist histories of Rufinus,

Theodoret, Socrates, and Sozomen in order to see if they felt the need (or had the ability)

to supply any details of Constantine’s building activities in Rome.96

Of all those who added to Eusebius’ history, Rufinus of Aquileia was in the best

position to comment on Constantinian Rome. After an extended stay in Egypt and

Palestine, he had lived in Rome briefly at the close of the fourth century. He was, in other

words, capable of bridging gaps in knowledge that those living exclusively in the East

might have had. To his Latin translation of Eusebius’ !""#$%&'%(&"'#)*&%(+,-, he appended

two books, brief and anecdotal, that cover the period from the middle of Constantine’s

reign until the death of Theodosius.97

93 ./)1.28.1: “If someone else had reported it, it would perhaps not be easy to accept; but since the victorious Emperor himself told the story to the present writer a long while after, when I was privileged with his acquaintance and company, and confirmed it with oaths, who could hesitate to believe the account, especially when the time which followed provided evidence for the truth of what he said?”

94 Eusebius included in his ./ two letters from the emperor addressed to him: “Victor Constantinus Maximus Augustus to Eusebius” (./ 4.35-36).

95 See, for example, the array of temples mentioned in 01$+21'3- 2.54ff (on human sacrifice).

96 The first continuer of Eusebius was Gelasius of Caesarea, whose uncle was Cyril of Jerusalem, but his work is no longer extant.

97 For his life and a translation of the two additional books, see Philip R. Amidon, ed., 01$)Church History) +4)564&36%)+4)786&#$&'9):++;%)<=)'3>)<< (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997).

175

In the first book, he contributes two stories of the founding of churches during the reign of Constantine: several in “Further India” (Aksum/Ethiopia?) and one in Georgia.98

Neither of these cases, however, is likely to have taken place under Constantine.99 The only other account of construction activity in his narrative of Constantine’s reign concerns Helena in Jerusalem.100 Here, his narrative of the founding of the Holy

Sepulcher—which he refers to as a !"#$%&#'#()(*(+&#—is oddly divergent from

Eusebius’. For Eusebius, it is built to memorialize the empty tomb. For Rufinus, it marks

the site of the discovery of the true cross. Of course, the church would be built to enclose

both the tomb and the site of the crucifixion, but neither mentions the other (I discuss this

church further below). Nevertheless, Rufinus does not seem to have known (or at least

used) Eusebius’ ,-, so all its building narratives (both Christian and Pagan) are absent

from his history, and there is no further information on our emperor’s activity in Rome.

Theodoret of Cyrrhus, like the other ecclesiastical historians, took on this formable

task in order to include material left out of previous attempts: “I too shall attempt to

record in writing events in ecclesiastical history hitherto omitted.”101 And while he

purposefully begins his history where Eusebius’ ./'left off (ca. 324),102 he is clearly

indebted to the latter’s 0(*"'1*'-123!42!(2". From the ,-, he includes the emperor’s letter

to Eusebius instructing bishops in general terms to attend to church buildings and to seek

98 Rufinus ./ 10.9 and 10.11, respectively.

99 See Amidon’s notes to the text.

100 Rufinus ./ 10.7-8.

101 Theodoret /++%"3(43!(+4%'.(3!1)5,'Prologue. 6(+"2"'427'$13!86(+"2"'94!:")3'1*'!:"'-:)(3!(42'-:&)+:. Second series. Translated with notes by Philip Schaff and Henry Wace (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1988-1999).

102 “I shall begin my history from the period at which his [Eusebius’ ./] terminates” (Prologue).

176 aid from provincial governors for this task.103 He also quotes Constantine’s letter to

Bishop Macarius on the construction of the Martyrium (the Holy Sepulcher)104 and

repeats the claim that Pagans purposefully obscured Jesus’ tomb in order to eradicate his

memory, and built a temple over it dedicated to “the goddess of unbridled lust, in

mockery of the Virgin’s birth.”105 In his account, the emperor’s mother, Helena, plays a

direct role in the excavations at Golgotha, discovering three crosses buried beneath the

polluted rubble of the Temple of Venus (a story that is suspiciously absent in

Eusebius).106 But that is basically the extent of Theodoret’s account of Constantine’s

church building. There is no mention, for instance, of Helena’s endowments at

Bethlehem and on the Mount of Olives. His narration of the reign of Constantine, instead,

is focused primarily on the theological issues raised by Arius and his followers. But, as

was the case with Eusebius, the few specific examples of Constantine’s church

endowments are presented as being of a piece with the emperor’s other acts of piety (such

as his intervention in internal Christian debates). And the only potentially relevant

knowledge he shows of the situation back in Rome is that Silvester was its bishop during

this time.107

103 Theodoret !" 1.14.

104 Ibid., 1.16.

105 Ibid., 1.15.

106 Ibid., 1.17. The “true cross” is only first mentioned by Cyril of Jerusalem in mid-century (Cameron and Hall, #$%&'(%')(*+,-*,$*&, 280).

107 Theodoret !"'2.1.

177

Socrates of Constantinople (ca. 380-439) mentions that Constantine’s reign saw the erection of “temples” in Jerusalem,108 Byzantium (naming the churches to Irene, the

Apostles, and Sophia specifically),109 Bethlehem,110 on the Mount of Olives,111 in

Mamre,112 Heliopolis,113 Antioch (begun by Constantine and finished under Constantius

II),114 and even in what is now Georgia115 and Ethiopia.116 Much of this information is, of course, derived from Eusebius (particularly his !"#$%&#%'&()*+(*"($). He does, however, supply us with additional information, such as the discovery of the cross by

Helena at Golgotha.117 But, for the most part, Socrates’ narrative of Constantine’s reign is as blind on matters of church building in Rome (and the West generally) as Eusebius was.118

108 Socrates ,--.$)"+)*"-+.%/")*&01 1.9. 2"-$($%+(3%4&)*52"-$($%6+*7$0)%&#%*7$%'70")*"+(%'780-7. Second series. Translated with notes by Philip Schaff and Henry Wace (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1988-1999). He includes Constantine’s letter to Macarius on the construction of the Martyrium (in Eusebius’ initial account).

109 Socrates /, 1.16 and 2.16.

110 Ibid., 1.17.

111 Ibid., 1.17.

112 Ibid., 1.18.

113 Ibid., 1.18.

114 Ibid., 2.8.

115 Ibid., 1.20. Based on Rufinus.

116 Ibid., 1.19. Based on Rufinus.

117 Ibid., 1.17.

118 Ernest Barker concludes: “He is also limited in the width of his view; he thinks almost exclusively of the Eastern Mediterranean, and has little knowledge or understanding of the Latin West” (Ernest Barker, ed., 60&9%:.$;+(3$0%*&%'&()*+(*"($<%=+))+>$)%+(3%?&-89$(*)%@..8)*0+*"(>%*7$%/")*&01%&#%A&-"+.%+(3%=&."*"-+.% @3$+)%BBC%D'%E%:?%BBF [Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1985] 474).

178

The only instance to the contrary comes when he includes an extract from Evagrius of

Pontus, recounting a visit to Rome by the monk Ammonius: “when he went to Rome with

Athanasius, he chose to investigate none of the magnificent works of that city, contenting himself with examining the Cathedral of Peter and Paul only.”119 Certainly the use of the

term “cathedral” in the $%$& translation is anachronistic. This is likely a reference to the

!"#'(')"*+,-#.-(-/01*on the 2'"*+,,'", which was dedicated to Peter and Paul.

Regardless, this does not amount to much.

Sozomen (ca. 400-450), who was born near Gaza in Palestine and resided in

Constantinople, provides us with little new information in this regard as well. While he

does include an expanded version of the discovery of the cross at Golgotha,120 his

knowledge of specific Constantinian church endowments also follows much along

Eusebian lines: Bethlehem,121 the Mount of Olives,122 Nicomedia,123 Antioch,124

Byzantium,125 Hestiae (outside Constantinople),126 Mamre,127 and possibly Maiuma (the

port of Gaza).128

119 Socrates 34 4.23.

120 Sozomen 4))(5#'"#.')"(*3'#.-/6 2.1. $')575*"78*,-#.9$')575*&".:5/#*-;*.:5*<:/'#.'"7*<:0/):. Second series. Translated with notes by Philip Schaff and Henry Wace (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1988-1999).

121 Sozomen 34*2.2.

122 Ibid., 2.2.

123 Ibid., 2.3.

124 Ibid., 2.3.

125 Ibid., 2.3.

126 Ibid., 2.3.

127 Ibid., 2.4.

128 Ibid., 2.5.

179

We must assume that Eusebius, then, did not possess copies of any letters sent to

Rome instructing Christian leaders there to see to the construction of churches. When referring to the absence of an account of the finding of the cross, Cameron and Hall write that, “Arguments based on the idea of deliberate omission are dangerous where Eusebius is concerned.”129 And again, on his silence on the finding of the cross, they write, “It is

better to regard Eusebius’ account as incomplete.”130 And while I find their conclusions

on this matter generally persuasive, they do contradict the fact that Eusebius omitted any

mention of the emperor’s visit to Rome and Italy for the celebration of his !"#$%%&'"& in

326 CE and the execution of his eldest son Crispus and supposed suicide of his wife

Fausta—the omissions of which they repeatedly admit were deliberate.131

Constantine in the East

When we turn to the eastern part of the empire, Eusebius has much to offer in terms

of the constructive and destructive activity of the Emperor Constantine. With the defeat

of Licinius in 324 CE, Constantine became the sole Augustus of the empire,132 and,

between then and his death in 337 CE, he engaged in an extensive building program in

the East. A significant amount of this activity occurred within the region known to the

bishop of Caesarea (he had travelled, for instance, between his bishopric and

Constantinople). He had already displayed his interest in sacred geography prior to the

129 (")$, 280.

130 Ibid., 291.

131 Ibid., 230, 236-37, 273, 296; Eusebius had mentioned the death of Crispus in *+ 10.9.4.

132 His sons became his Caesars.

180 triumph of Constantine and the initiation of a Christian building program in Palestine in his !"#$%&'()#", or biblical gazetteer.133 At that stage in his research, however, he

showed no concern for the numerous sites of Jesus’ activity, not even those of his birth

and death. Only with the monumentalization of these sites under Constantine did they receive any attention.

In a letter reproduced by Eusebius, the emperor instructed the bishop of Jerusalem,

Macarius, to construct a basilica to mark the site of Jesus’ tomb that not only is “superior

to those in all other places,” but also surpasses “all the excellences of every city.”134

Constantine was not simply nurturing the local Christian populations, he was—as all

emperor’s strove to do—building monumentally: “he instructed those who governed the

eastern provinces by generous and lavish grants to make the building out of the ordinary,

huge, and rich….”135 As he did in Rome, he sought to surpass his predecessors, and cast

these church buildings as monuments to his politically successful relationship with the

Christian god.

This situation had long been the position enjoyed by the major Pagan cults of the

cities. In fact, “the excellences of every city” that the emperor sought to surpass were by

and large temples. And by the time of the Tetrarchs, few but the imperial household had

the ability to build “out of the ordinary, huge, and rich.” The construction activities

mentioned by Eusebius were governmental projects, building (and demolition) organized

and controlled by “those who governed the eastern provinces.” We should be mindful,

133 *+,-!"#$%&'()#".-/%0,&'(",-("-'+,-1#23'+-4,"'235-6787 Translated by G.S.P. Freeman-Grenville. Edited by Joan E. Taylor (Jerusalem: Carta, 2003). Dated to sometime in the late third c.

134 94-3.31.1.

135 94-3.29.2.

181 however, of seeing this emperor’s euergetism only from the perspective of religious rivalry. Constantine sought—again, as many emperors did—to outdo the benefactions of his predecessors. Of course, he wished to promote Christianity through these particular actions, but he also meant to memorialize his reign. A city’s cultic structures were often the most conspicuous sites in which to do that. The type of building chosen for these projects is significant, too. Scholars have long acknowledged the imperial associations

(as audience halls) of the basilica form.136

Dracillianus, the governor of Palestine at that time, was then given responsibility for

overseeing the design and construction of the building and the decoration of the walls

(presumably in the interior).137 Bishop Macarius does not seem to have been given a role

in choosing the iconography of the shrine. He did, however, play a significant role in its

construction. He was given the choice of ceiling type (“coffered or in another style of

construction”), the kind of columns and marble (Constantine mentions that this would be

“supplied from all sources,” which we may assume means that they may come from

existing buildings as well as being newly quarried), as well as the number of “laborers

and craftsmen and what other expenditures are required.”138 It is unclear just how much input members of the Christian community had. After a generation of witnessing the

136 J. H. W. G. Liebeschuetz, !"#$%#&%$'()#*(!+)#,-(%#(."/)#(.-0%,%"# (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1979) 299. This point should not be overly stressed, however. The enormous civic basilicas built by the Tetrarchs in Rome, such as that of Maxentius/Constantine in Rome, bear more resemblance to the bath complexes of the period. Constantine’s basilica adjoined to his palace at Trier, though, resembles more the long, narrow type used for Christian assembly. This audience hall is larger than the Christian basilicas: 100 (Roman) feet high, 200 feet long, 100 feet wide. The Constantinian adoption of the basilica for Christian uses has been the subject of much discussion. See, e.g., Richard Krautheimer, “The Constantinian Basilica,” 1&/2)3$"#( 4)56(7)8-36 21 (1967) 115-140.

137 9!(3.31.2.

138 9!(3.31.3; 3.32.1-2.

182 prosecutorial hand of governors and their magistrates, such collaboration must have nevertheless been accompanied with mixed feelings.139

The Martyrium basilica is possibly the earliest-known case of a Christian church

supplanting a Pagan !"#"$%&, that is, if we believe Eusebius. I use the broader term

!"#"$%&, since we do not know if the site contained a house ('"("&)/)%*+%&) for the deity, or it was simply a small shrine with a statue.140 That Christians were building directly

upon the site of a Pagan shrine is an obvious and deliberate part of Eusebius’ narrative of

this Constantinian construction. This should come as a surprise, since Christians tended

to avoid Pagan sites all together, at least for another century (and in the case of some

temples, several centuries). The removal of all traces of Pagan practice at the site of the

Martyrium, however, was an imperial act. Constantine, in his letter to Bishop Macarius,

is clearly directing the process.141 It is important to note also that the Martyrium was a

late building project for Constantine, being initiated after he had been in office for 30

years (c. 335 CE). Again, the reuse of Pagan property may have only been able to be

carried out by a well-established and powerful emperor—and only in the case of the most

crucial (pun intended) site on the sacred landscape of Christianity. Local Christian

139 Such a situation, in which a minority religious community must negotiate an acceptable balance between internal ideological integrity (or “purity”) and accommodation to the cultural or political hegemony, recalls the issues surrounding the Hasmonean conflict—and in the very same region. Eusebius would, of course, be classified as an accommodationist—but a creative one.

140 The situation at Mamre (discussed below) was somewhat different. It had involved three religious communities practicing at the same site simultaneously. Heliopolis/Baalbek (also discussed below) is another possible site for this honor.

141 The “Pilgrim of Bordeaux,” who visited the site in 333, acknowledged this initiative: “there was recently constructed, on the order of the Emperor Constantine, a basilica, a church of admirable loveliness…” See the translation in John Wilkinson, ed., ,-".*'/&)0.'1"2&. Third edition (Warminster, England: Aris & Phillips, 1999).

183 communities did not yet have the power to carry out such a transformation (licitly or illicitly), as they came to have toward the end of the century.

In the case of the Martyrium basilica the (false) question of piety or pragmatism has not generally manifested itself in scholarship with regard to Constantine and his motivations for choosing that particular site upon which to build a memorial to Christ

(whether out of convenience or certainty of its authenticity). Instead, it has been remarkably dependent upon the “!"#!##!$%&'()*%” of Eusebius, and it has almost ignored

Constantine and his agenda completely.

Historians and archaeologists of the Holy Sepulcher have been trying to build a greater explanatory edifice than the evidence can support. The central concern of such work has been to critically assess the claim that the site corresponds to that of Jesus’ crucifixion and temporary burial, based upon ancient literary attestations and recently

uncovered material remains.142 I do not wish to cast aspersions on the quality of the

archaeological work done at the site. It has been conducted under the exceedingly

difficult conditions of working within the confines of the present (primarily 11th century) building and its denominational divisions. I do, however, wish to challenge some larger conclusions that have been offered based upon what I feel is a disregard for the rhetoric and agenda of our sources.143

142 See, e.g., the work of the Franciscan excavator beneath the Holy Sepulcher, Fr. Virgilio Corbo: +,&-%./0& -("0,1)0&2!&3()4#%,($$(5&%#"(//!&%)16(0,07!1!&2%,,(&0)!7!.!&%,&"()!020&1)01!%/8(&Jerusalem: Franciscan Print Press, 1981-1982);&also, Fr. Charles Coüasnon, 96(&:64)16&0;&/6(&<0,=&-("4,16)(&!.&>()4#%,($ (London: Oxford University Press, 1974); Shimon Gibson and Joan E. Taylor, ?(.(%/6&/6(&:64)16&0;&/6(& <0,=&-("4,16)(5&96(&@)16%(0,07=&%.2&A%),=&

184

Archaeologists have tended to take the literary sources (particularly the canonical

Gospel writers and Eusebius) at face value: in the case of the Gospel writers, by treating their brief descriptions of the relevant places (e.g., Golgotha or the tomb of Joseph of

Arimathea) as linguistic equivalents of the terrain itself144; and in the case of Eusebius, by uncritically reiterating his claim that a temple once stood where the Church of the

Holy Sepulcher now does.145 Excavations under the church have found only a fragment of a small libation altar (50 cm x 28 cm) in the vicinity of the Rock of Calvary to shed light on this claim, however.146 Of course, if we take Eusebius seriously, we should expect this to be the case, since, as he explains, great effort was expended in not only removing the shrine to Aphrodite but excavating the very soil upon which sacrificial practices had been held.147 The basilica was not built simply upon fresh soil, however.

Excavations in the 1960s and 1970s uncovered remains of large and well-dressed walls

144 “To summarize: the new tomb (Matthew, John), was hewn in the rock (Matthew, Mark, Luke), in a garden (John), near to the city (John), the owner of which was known (Matthew), being Joseph of Arimathea (Matthew, Mark, Luke, John), a well-known counsellor (Mark, Luke); in the tomb, the mortuary couch is situated on the right-hand side (Mark), while the low door obliges one to stoop to look inside (John). All these facts, so solid, prove that the authors of the Gospel texts knew the places, had seen the tomb, and had been into it” (Coüasnon, !"#$%"&'(&)"*&+',-&.*/#,%"$*, 7).

145 “The city’s basilica and the Temple of Venus-Aphrodite were to the north [of the forum]” (0"*&1*2& 34%-%,'/*567&'(&8$%"7*','96%7,&3:%7;7)6'4<&64&)"*&+',-&=745 [1383+=]. Edited by Ephraim Stern et al. [Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society & Carta; New York: Simon & Schuster, 1993] 2.763).

146 Gibson and Taylor, “Church,” 67-69. Their conclusion concerning this altar is unwarranted, however: “There can be little doubt, therefore, that the libation altar from the Late Roman period… was one of those used in the cult of Venus” (71).

147 >! 3.26.7-27: “At a word of [Constantine’s] command those contrivances of fraud were demolished from top to bottom, and the houses of error were dismantled and destroyed along with their idols and demons …. all the rubble of stones and timbers from the demolitions should be taken and dumped a long way from the site… [and] that the site should be excavated to a great depth and the pavement should be carried away with the rubble a long distance outside, because it was stained with demonic bloodshed.”

185 from the Hadrianic period beneath the rotunda to the west and the forecourt to the east.148

The excavator, Fr. Virgilio Corbo, concluded that these were the remains of a large retaining wall that surrounded the Roman temple, which he identified with Jupiter.149

From this, he even estimated the temple’s size (41.5 x 37 m). Other excavators, notably

Frs. Hugues Vincent and Charles Coüasnon, however, have suggested that these are the vestiges of a Roman civic basilica (also a common feature of a forum), upon which the

Constantinian Martyrium was modeled.150

More recently, Joan Taylor, who has written extensively on the Holy Sepulcher, has revised her previously skeptical position on the site of the tomb of Jesus, and thus the location of Constantine’s Martyrium basilica.151 She begins her analysis with the Gospel accounts of the crucifixion, closely examining the Greek terminology and phrasing employed as if it offered a kind of roadmap for discovering the site of the first century event. She then attempts to unpack the few pre-Constantinian literary references, especially Melito of Sardis, who merely wrote that the crucifixion took place “in the

148 The dating of the walls is also problematic. A Hadrianic date seems to be assumed: “The walls are built of large ashlars with typical Herodian dressed margins, probably taken from the ruins of Second Temple period buildings” (!"#"$%,&2.763). They may then have been part of an earlier, Herodian construction.

149 “Corbo, citing Eusebius’ assertion that Hadrian built his temple on the site of Jesus’ tomb, identified these walls as remains of the temple at the forum’s northwestern corner. Beneath the paved floor of the rotunda, north of the edicule built over the sepulcher, is a vaulted space that may have been used as a '()*++( [a repository into which cult material is deposited] under the Roman temple” (!"#"$%,&2.763). Corbo, however, seems not to have taken Eusebius’ word that the temple was dedicated to Aphrodite. He did plausibly suggest though that the columns used to encircle the tomb were removed from a Roman temple. Based upon measurements of two surviving columns, it has been determined that the originals were of the Corinthian order and quite high: 7.15 meters. See Coüasnon, ,-./0-&1'&2-3&$145&637.40-/3, 30-31.

150 !"#"$%,&2.763; Coüasnon, ,-./0-&1'&2-3&$145&637.40-/3, 42.

151 Joan E. Taylor, “Golgotha: A Reconsideration of the Evidence for the Sites of Jesus’ Crucifixion and Burial,” !38&93+2(:3;2&62.<*3+ 44 (1998) 180-203. She argues against the present Rock of Calvary as the site of the crucifixion, however. For earlier arguments, see eadem, ,-/*+2*(;+&(;<&2-3&$145&=4(03+>&9-3& ?52-&1'&@38*+-A,-/*+2*(;&B/*C*;+ (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993) 113-42; and Gibson and Taylor, D3;3(2-&2-3&,-./0-.

186 middle of a !"#$%&# and in the middle of a city.” Eventually, she bases her argument for the authenticity of the tomb of Jesus upon the view initiated by Eusebius that Pagans

(under Hadrian) actively sought to eradicate the memory of Christ and the practices associated with him by building a temple over his tomb. I believe this revisioning reflects a kind of envy on the part of Eusebius; the logic being that, since Hadrian had built a

Pagan temple on the site of the Jewish temple, surely he would have done the same with

Ur-site of Christianity. It made for a better story. In addition, Eusebius’ claim would mean that Aelia’s central forum—with its attendant temple—was designed largely in relation to the location of Jesus’ tomb. Yet there is no indication that Christians played such a starring role in Hadrian’s policies or urban planning.152 Taylor offers what I think

is a more important point, instead: “it remains a curious fact that no Christian source

before Constantine noted the offensive conjunction of a Temple of Venus and the place of Jesus’ entombment.”153

Ultimately, the project of trying to pinpoint the very tomb in which Jesus’ body was

deposited is a positivist one, and one likely to be based upon a false assumption that early

Christians were operating under the same criteria of authenticity that more empirically-

minded scholars do. The pious believe(d) that this is $'% place for very different reasons,

such as an incidence of miracles.154

In order to pursue this line of inquiry, one must wade through the muddy waters of

evidence from the Gospels (is it, for instance, based on eyewitness accounts?); the

152 Surely the opposite is true: If Christians did maintain a memory of the sites of Jesus’ crucifixion and burial, they would have had to employ the new, Hadrianic landmarks as guides.

153 Taylor, “Golgotha,” 194.

154 I want to be careful here, though, because such signs also functioned for believers as empirical evidence of a sort.

187 archaeological history of the city (particularly Hadrian’s refashioning of it into the Pagan

!"#"$%&'()#%&'*&+%,"#%$&); the extremely brief accounts of pre-Constantinian visitors and how much we can glimpse from them of three centuries of Christian memorial practices; and the highly rhetorical accounts of Constantine’s activities, particularly from Eusebius.

Keep in mind also that our main literary source for construction at this site comes from someone who had earlier shown no concern for any of the sites of Jesus’ activity.

The approach I take here, in contrast, is to consider the issue from the perspective of an emperor and his propaganda, as well as that of a bishop and his theory of Paganism, since the church is said to rest upon the site of an early second-century Roman shrine. It is striking how absent Constantine is from most interpretations of the site. To my mind, he should be central. There were, of course, more than one actor and set of motivations in this project. Perhaps it was Macarius who first broached the subject with Constantine. We do not know. In the case of Constantine, at least, we know that he was actively concerned with positioning himself in relation to previous emperors, either by associating himself with “good” ones or distancing himself from “bad” ones, but primarily to gain and maintain military and political success. This seems to have been particularly true at the earlier stages of his imperial career, but Constantine knew that he would always be measured against his predecessors (as Eusebius’ -%,&'*"$.,&$,%$%—a work, despite its idiosyncrasies, much in line with imperial panegyric—makes clear). This is not to say that the idea for all of Constantine’s projects, and their symbolism, originated in the mind of the emperor himself. But surely all these grand public projects funded in his name had to at least gain his approval.

188

The particular nature of the shrine supplanted by the Martyrium is worth considering in this regard. There was not agreement in our ancient accounts as to which Pagan deity this !"#"$%& was dedicated. Jerome wrote that Hadrian had purposely set up “an image of

Jupiter on the place of the resurrection [tomb] and a marble statue of Venus on the rock of the cross.” 155 Eusebius, as we have seen, referred to the shrine at Aelia as “a gloomy

sanctuary to the impure demon Aphrodite.”156 In addition, of the five specific Pagan sites

destroyed by Constantine mentioned by Eusebius, three were dedicated to Aphrodite

(Aphaca, Heliopolis, and Aelia). This particular site is not branded as a locus for temple

prostitution, as those at Aphaca and Heliopolis are (see below), but, given its location in

the middle of a Roman colony, it would be surprising if it was. If we were to ascribe an

exclusivist Christian attitude to Constantine, and recalling that he had restored Hadrian’s

Temple to Venus and Roma (not mentioned by Eusebius), then we might wonder if his

actions against these shrines to Aphrodite/Venus represented a later attempt to counteract

his offering to the goddess some 12 years earlier. But, as I will discuss further below in

relation to his adornment of his new capital, Constantine does not seem to have thought

in this exclusivist way. Perhaps, instead, this focus on Aphrodite reflects more of

Eusebius’ concerns than Constantine’s.

On the other hand, it should be said that the basilica’s siting on the north edge of the

colony’s forum gives some weight to the later claim by Jerome that the shrine supplanted

had been dedicated to Jupiter (or, better yet, the Capitoline triad of Jupiter, Juno, and

155 '()&!*" 58.3. +),"$"-.$/-0%&!1+),"$"-2.!3"4&-%5-!3"-634)&!).$-6374,3. Second series. Vol. 6. Translated by Philip Schaff and Henry Wace (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1988-1999).

156 86 3.26.3. Aphrodite has been suspected of being a particular problem for Christian ideologues, likely due in part to Eusebius. Ward-Perkins, for instance, claims that “Aphrodite/Venus was a goddess who lifestyle was out of keeping with the ideals of Christianity” (“Re-using the Architectural Legacy,” 236).

189

Minerva157). Hadrian had rededicated the city to Jupiter Optimus Maximus, renaming

Jerusalem Aelia Capitolina. The central cult of the Roman state must have been established somewhere in the new colony. According to Cassius Dio, the cult was located on the site of the Jewish temple.158 This site, however, was unlikely to ever receive a

Christian dedication, in order to stand as a testament to Jesus’ prophecy of its destruction.159 Across town at the Roman forum, however, the possibility that Jupiter was the god displaced by Constantine’s monument to Christ has its symbolic merits. The

Martyrium basilica was dedicated (hurriedly, apparently) on September 13, 335, in the year of Constantine’s !"#$%&&'(#'.160 September 13 was also the &')'(#* of the temple of

Jupiter Optimus Maximus in Rome, and Jupiter had been Licinius’ patron deity.161 The idea, then, of situating a memorial to Christ where his last rival’s protector had been worshiped may have played into the decision to build at this spot.

The point I wish to stress here is not so much whether we can come to a definitive explanation for the siting of the Martyrium (I have offered a few perhaps contradictory

157 This was the common cultic focal point of a Roman colony’s forum, since these foundations were designed to, in some sense, replicate Rome. Eusebius actually at one point refers to shrines in the plural at the site: “contrivances of fraud were demolished from top to bottom, and the houses of error [)'+),*+-('&,*+ .#/.0.1,1')'] were dismantled and destroyed along with their idols and demons ['2).#*+3.'&.#*+/'#+ 0'#1.*#]” (45 3.26.7).

158 Cassius Dio 6.1'&+7#*)."8 59.12.1. He never visited Aelia, however. Gibson and Taylor, 9%&%'):+):%+ 5:2$:, 70. “[I]ts existence and that of others can also be inferred from their depiction on coins and references in inscriptions discovered in Jerusalem” (;<=<7>, 2.759). Apparently, however, there are no architectural remains of a Roman temple on the Temple Mount. Moshe Fischer, “Was There a Roman Temple on the Temple Mount? An Architectural Perspective.” Paper presented at “The Jerusalem Perspective: 150 Years of Archaeological Research.” Brown University. Nov. 13, 2006. Further evidence for this is not forthcoming, since excavations are not permitted beneath the Haram ash-Sharif.

159 E.g., Mark 13:2.

160 Eusebius was on hand and delivered one of the orations. See his ?5 and 45+4.43-48.

161 Michael A. Fraser, “Constantine and the Encaenia,” ?)20#'+@')"#*)#$' 39 (1997) 25-28.

190 ones162). Instead, I want to emphasize that such a question (for this and other

Constantinian churches) needs to !"#$% take into consideration that the building was an imperial project, and thus designed to broadcast a particular symbolic or propagandistic message. Scholars on the Holy Sepulcher have ignored this, focusing instead on searching for first-century traces in order to explain a fourth-century monument.

Coüasnon wrote that, “The history of the Holy Sepulchre starts with the burial of the body of Jesus.”163 I disagree with this. Its history begins with Constantine and the

Eusebian account – as should our evaluations of it.164 Like the basilica to St. Peter in

Rome, the Martyrium had been carefully, and with great effort, positioned so as to conform to an earlier shrine.165 In the case of the Martyrium, however, we should consider the possibility that the shrine that determined the location of the church was not a first-century tomb, but a later Pagan %&'&()$. Interpreters of the site, instead, have generally done the opposite. They have reproduced Eusebius’ tendentious claim that it was Jesus’ tomb that was purposefully obstructed by a Pagan shrine.166

162 1) There was no %&'&()$ under the basilica, based on the relative lack of archeological evidence; 2) displacing Aphrodite had symbolic value for Constantine; 3) displacing Aphrodite had symbolic value for Eusebius; and 4) displacing Jupiter had symbolic value for Constantine.

163 Coüasnon, *+,#-+.)!.%+&./)01.2&3,0-+#&, 6.

164 The following kind of comparison made by André Grabar (as paraphrased by Coüasnon) is, I think, more helpful: “One can well believe that, in Constantine’s thoughts, the Rotunda [built over the tomb] was the triumphal mausoleum erected to the memory of the Risen One, the founder of the Church. As the cities of ancient Greece erect ‘heroa’ to the memory of their founders, so the Emperor had a ‘heröon’ raised over the Tomb of the Lord, to the glory of the founder of the New Jerusalem; in the same manner he had his own erected over this tomb in Constantinople, the New Rome” (Coüasnon, *+,#-+.)!.%+&./)01.2&3,0-+#&, 36). And, we might add, as he had erected to the founders of the Christian community in Rome, Peter and Paul.

165 Both, by the way, face west instead of east, as several early Constantinian basilicas did.

166 Let me be clear here. I also consider possible Eusebius’ claim that there was a Pagan shrine under the basilica. But, I do not consider it likely that it was put there because of Christian practices associated with the site.

191

In addition to the endowments lavished upon the Christian communities in specific cities, Eusebius also discusses—in Book 3 of his !"#$%&'()#$(#"("—the Pagan cultic sites that Constantine took action against. We do not exactly know when these actions were taken, but certainly not until he gained control of the East in 324 CE. These measures are set out by Eusebius as the necessary and opposite response to the erection of Christian temples. For the bishop, it was self-evident that the two types of temples could not simultaneously stand. For Constantine, to be the true earthly companion (*'+,)) of Christ and for Christianity to have truly triumphed in the empire, it was not enough for church buildings to be re-erected (however more impressive they may be); the buildings of the

“enemy” had also to be leveled. It was as if, in the bishop’s highly symbolic account of events, Pagan and Christian temples were oppositely charged entities; the erection of one brought the collapse of the other. Eusebius, however, did not just wish to present a pleasingly tidy tale; he had imperial clientage to court—something that was by no means reliable. He saw it as in his community’s best interest to emphasize Pagan loss with

Christian gain, regardless of any messier reality on the ground.

While Eusebius takes pains to portray Constantine as the emperor who vanquished

Paganism and eliminated their meeting places, this broad claim is contradicted by the very details in his account. It is indeed easy to lose perspective in his enthusiastic litany of anti-Pagan activities. But, the instances where temples are said to have been destroyed really do not amount to much. He mentions five sites: Jesus’ tomb in Jerusalem;167

Abraham’s oak at Mamre;168 shrines to Aphrodite in the mountains outside of Aphaca169

167 -&%3.25-40.

168 -& 3.51-53.

192 and at Heliopolis;170 and an Asclepieion in the province of Cilicia.171 Considering the

expanse of the empire, this is a small area, involving only the contiguous regions of

Palestine, Phoenicia, and Cilicia. And while it may be argued that the number of sites

affected is less significant than the general message coming from imperial channels of a

reversal in the fortunes for Pagans, I am skeptical of the view that these activities would

have (even could have) been perceived in such broad religious terms. These activities had

yet to signify a watershed moment (as they would in the post-Julian imperial legislations). In addition, this list of sites chosen (?) by Constantine is highly selective, and would seem to suggest, if we are to view it has more or less complete, that there were quite local, and perhaps even personal, reasons for their being singled out—rather than simply because they were Pagan.172 Such resident circumstances are, of course, lost to us,

but their likelihood should be kept in mind. They may have been, then, as I mentioned

earlier, instances of an emperor marking his new territory, and perhaps actions taken

against cities or regions that had favored Licinius.

While Constantine issued an imperial mandate through letters sent to the governors of

the provinces to carry out his instructions for new, monumental Christian assembly halls,

he also sent a letter to bishops of Palestine admonishing them to put an end to Pagan

practices at Mamre.173 The emperor had been disturbed to learn from his mother-in-law,

169 !" 3.55.1-5.

170#!" 3.58.1-4.

171 !" 3.55.5-56.3. See also Eusebius’ $% 4.135C-136A on Antioch and Didyma; also Philostratus !&#'(. 1.13.

172 “Perhaps the list was longer, but each of the known places was a special case.” Robin Lane Fox, $)*)+,# )+-#"./0,10)+, (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1995) 671.

173 !"#3.51.2; 3.52-53.4.

193

Eutropia, that “the place by the oak… has been completely spoiled.” In response, he sent a letter to the bishops of Palestine admonishing them to put an end to Pagan practices there. Apparently no bishop had felt comfortable enough yet to act as an informant to the emperor. Echoing his predecessor Maximinus Daia, Constantine expected the heads of the local religious communities (in this case bishops, rather than priests) to police their realms for “sacrilegious abominations.” The idols and altars there, he wrote, are “both alien to our times [!"#$%&'("#$!"#$)*+,!,("#$&--.!('.#] and unworthy of the sanctity of the site.” In addition, the /.+,0 Acacius was also informed by letter that the idols are to

be “consigned to the flames, the altar completely demolished,” and the whole area

cleared. “He is to have built on the spot [,1'$!.2$&2!.2$/)"('.2] a basilica….” And in a

further move reminiscent of Hadrian’s purgation of Jerusalem, Constantine instructs the

bishops to “take particular care that in the future none of those accursed and foul people

dare to come near the place.” From now on it was “a punishable crime if any sacrilege is

committed in such a place after our order.”

This imperial order was very limited and localized in scope. It pertained only “to the

place by the oak” at Mamre. It is, however, the only instance where we gain a glimpse of

how the emperor became aware of the goings-on at particular shrines, and how he might have been motivated to act upon it; although such cases presumably came to his attention as other complaints did: through petitions by officials and private citizens at the court—in

this case, the direct intercession of his mother-in-law. In response, Constantine insisted

that, “This site should be both kept clear of every defilement and restored$

[&#&%&-,0&0!)&']174$to its ancient holy state.”175

174 This is the same verb for recalling from exile, or summoning from the dead.

194

Also, according to Eusebius, in the mountains at Aphaca in Phoenicia, the emperor,

“like some high-soaring sharp-eyed eagle might from high above see things far off upon the earth,” spied a “dire trap for souls…. This was a grove and precinct, not at a city center nor among squares and streets… founded for the hateful demon Aphrodite…. This was a school for vice… [where] womanish men… [had] unlawful intercourse with women… as in some lawless and ungoverned place.” He “ordered the whole to be entirely demolished, dedications and all. On the Emperor’s command the devices

[!"#$%&"!%'%] of licentious error were at once destroyed, and a detachment of soldiers saw to the clearing [(%'$%)*+,] of the site.”176

The site of Aphaca is not to be confused with Tel Aphek (or any of the other four

places of this name mentioned in the Hebrew Bible), which was located on the -,%./%),*

in Israel and later rebuilt as Antipatris by Herod.177 Aphaca, instead, was located between

Heliopolis (Baalbek) and Byblos in the province of Syria.

Eusebius’ description of sexual activity within the precinct of the goddess has been

understood to refer to a practice of “sacred prostitution.”178 We should keep in mind,

though, that the accusation of sexual impropriety (and gender inversion) within the

confines of a suspect place of worship was a common trope shared by religious

polemicists across the spectrum. Such claims had previously been leveled against

175 01.3.52-53.4.

176 01 3.55.1-5.

177 Such a false association can be found in William Smith, ed., 2,#',3&%)4.35.6)++(.%&7.83!%&.6+39)%:$4 (London: 1878) 157. On Aphek, see ;<53)7.=#>3:+7,%.35.?)#$%+3>394.,&.'$+.@+%).=%*' (Edited by Eric Meyers [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997]) 147 ff.

178 Lane Fox, A%9%&*.%&7.1$),*',%&*, 671. Lane Fox is the only other one I know who has tried to unpack the Eusebius’ list of sites despoiled by Constantine.

195

Christians. In this case, the actions were not taking place within the walls of an urban

!"#!$ (where early Christians had gathered and generated suspicion), but removed from public surveillance at a rural setting.

According to Eusebius, Constantine also sent troops to eradicate the temple of

Asklepios at Aigai in Cilicia.179 The worshipers there, according to the bishop, were

“superstitious persons among the Greeks,” engaged in the “folly” and “error” of a

“purported science associated with the Cilician spirit.” “Countless people got excited

about him [Asklepios] as a savior and healer,” but “when it came to souls he was a

destroyer, drawing the gullible away from the true savior.”

Constantine ordered the shrine to be demolished: “At one command the vaunted

wonder of the noble philosophers was razed to the ground, pulled down by a military

force, and with it the one who skulked within, no spirit, and surely no god, but a deceiver

of souls who had practiced fraud for many long years.” The shrine there was “utterly

destroyed, so that no trace remained there of the former madness.”180 The “noble

philosophers” whom Eusebius mentions were the followers of Apollonius of Tyana.

From a Christian perspective, then, the site could be seen as doubly threatening, since it

was a home to a healing deity as well as a school for a wonder-working teacher, both of

whom were seen as close religious competitors. The specific association of the site with

Apollonius may help explain why no other Asklepieia (particularly those at Pergamon

and Epidaurus) seem to have been disturbed. Eusebius himself had good reason to single

179 %& 3.55.5-56.3.

180 %&'3.56.1-3.

196 out this Pagan site, having refuted a work on Apollonius in his !"#$%&'()*%"+,*-.181 The question must be raised, then, whether Constantine was influenced by Eusebius in his choice of desacralizing this Asklepieia, or whether it occurred at all, a fiction perpetuated by an emboldened bishop. The latter would appear to be the case. The cult of Asklepios at Aigai continued to operate beyond the reign of Constantine, but perhaps only until its destruction under his son, Constantius II.182 Was this a later addition to the .!, one in

which an action of one of his sons was projected back to his reign? Many later

developments came to be ascribed to Constantine, but, in this case, it is striking how

much of a stake Eusebius had in undermining this particular cultic site. Apollonius’

biographer, Philostratus, states that the Pagan sage employed the Asklepieion at Aigai as

a “holy Lyceum and Academy.”183

Constantine also is said to have issued a law forbidding temple prostitution at the

shrine of Aphrodite at Heliopolis in Phoenicia. In these actions, according to Eusebius, he

was “educating all mankind in laws of chastity.” To further this aim, he had a “very large

church” built “in their midst.”184 This intervention obviously could only take place after

Constantine had taken control of the East. Eusebius, in fact, had mentioned in his

/0*"10 how this shrine was still functioning in 325 CE (only a year after the defeat of

Licinius), even claiming to have been an eyewitness to its practices: “the Phoenicians our

neighbors, as we ourselves have seen, are busied with these things, even now, in Baalbek;

181 See Eusebius’ 3*1,2'$"'()*%"+,*4 in Christopher P. Jones, ed., 50),"4$%&$647'81",,"#)64'"9'/2&#&. Vol. 3 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2006); and Marguerite Forrat, eds., !"#$%*'():%"+,;4 (Paris: Editions du Cerf: 1986).

182 Cameron and Hall, eds., <64*=)647'>)9*'"9'!"#4$&#$)#*, 303. Such was Libanius’ claim (?%. 30.6).

183 That is, like schools of Aristotle and Plato. >)9*'"9'81",,"#)64'"9'/2&#& 1.7.

184 .! 3.58.1-3.

197 the ancient injurious excesses and corrupting paths of vice, being persevered in there, even to this time; so, that the women there enter not into the bands of lawful marriage, until they have been first corrupted in a way contrary to law, and have been made to partake in the lawless services of the mysteries of Venus.”185 It is tempting to see this

particular anxiety over Aphrodite/Venus that runs through the bishop’s accounts of

temple interventions as being more reflective of Eusebius’ concerns than the emperor’s; or, at the very least, that this is a selective account formed around those Pagan practices that he found to be especially distressing.

Constantine’s City

It seems fitting to close this discussion of Constantine’s building activities with the

formation of his capital city. Not only is this site obviously being designed to broadcast

certain imperial messages, but his projects there reveal the kind of range of subjects and

constituents that have so troubled historians. As I have done throughout this study, I will

highlight the differences in the Eusebian and Constantinian presentations of the work

carried out there. Eusebius gives us a clear indication of his perspective on the nature of

the Constantine’s benefactions in a few passages on the new foundation. With

Constantine, we are reliant upon what we know of the details of the buildings erected and

urban ornamentation employed.

In Eusebius’ words, the emperor “saw fit to purge it [his capital] of all idol-worship,

so that nowhere in it appeared those images of the supposed gods which are worshiped in

185 !"#$%"&'( 2.14 [Lee].

198 temples, nor altars foul with bloody slaughter, nor sacrifice offered as holocaust in fire, nor feasts of demons, nor any of the other customs of the superstitious.”186

Even more broadly in relation to this foundation, “he stripped the entrances to their

temples in every city so that their doors were removed at the Emperor’s command. In

other cases the roofs were ruined by the removal of the cladding.”187 Clearly nothing so

extensive was (or could be) undertaken.188 The bishop’s main point is to present the

houses of Paganism, and therefore Paganism itself, as vulnerable and (physically)

exposed:

In yet other cases the sacred bronze figures… he displayed to all the public in all the squares of the Emperor’s city, so that in one place the Pythian was displayed as a contemptible spectacle to the viewers, in another Sminthian [Apollo], in the Hippodrome itself the tripods from Delphi, and the Muses of Helicon at the palace. The city named after the Emperor was filled throughout with objects of skilled artwork in bronze dedicated in various provinces…. the Emperor used these very toys for the laughter and amusement of the spectators.189

This passage is the only known reference by a contemporary to Constantine’s decorative

scheme. We know that Eusebius had been in the capital for the celebration of the

emperor’s !"#$%&&'(#' in 335 CE, which occurred 10 years after the official founding of

the city. In fact, despite his dismissive tone, he has supplied us with accurate and

verifiable details about the sculptural collection. For instance, the remains of a tripod

186 )*+3.48.2.

187 )* 3.54.2.

188 By his own admission, Pagan sites were everywhere: “they filled all their cities, villages, and [other] places, with the fanes, images, and temples” (!,%-.,'&/+2.13 [Lee]); “the temples, fanes, and idols [that were] on earth: not one [only] but myriads [of these], in every city and place” (2.50). Pointing this out was part of his larger attack on Paganism: “They [here: Libyans and Egyptians] had too thousands of different gods, both in the villages and cities, as they also had of kings…” (2.67).

189 )* 3.54.2-3.

199 from Delphi still stand !"#$!%& to this day where the Hippodrome once was (I will discuss this collection further below).

This image of the emperor, robbing objects from the empire’s temples in order to decorate his new capital, corresponds to that given later by Libanius.190 For Eusebius, the

emperor could only be interested in these cult objects for purposes of spectacle and

ridicule, like paraded captives and booty from exotic lands. The removal of the bronze

doors and roof tiles could also be understood as the reuse of valued materials for more

pressing needs. Some of these temples may well have also been abandoned well prior to

Constantine’s ascension and/or in states of disrepair. (This was the case with a majority

of the temples throughout Greece following the Heruclian incursions of the mid-third

century, as demonstrated by Jean-Michel Spieser.191) The examples of bronze figures

being displayed prominently in Constantinople are better understood, I think, as cases of

imperial $'()!*. Constantine saw himself as the victor over internal tyranny, the ruler who

ended a civil war. His triumphs, then, utilized Greek and Roman (rather than, say, Persian

or Sassanian) objects for display. These were well-known works of art from within the

empire.

In Eusebius’ fashioning of events, Pagan places were treated like captured places –

overrun and looted by soldiers: “every dark cave and every secret recess was readily

accessible to the Emperor’s emissaries, and forbidden innermost sanctuaries of temples

were trodden by soldiers’ feet.”192

190 Libanius Oration 30.6 (+,(#-./')!$).

191 “The Christiansation of Pagan Sanctuaries in Greece,” VI.10-13.

192 01#3.57.4.

200

If we turn to the !"#$%& assembled in Constantine’s capital, as Sarah Bassett has done,193 we see a pattern that can be applied more broadly to the emperor’s religious

policies and construction activity. Her analysis of the decoration schemes in the Baths of

Zeuxippos, Hippodrome, Forum, and elsewhere in the emperor’s new capital led her to

the conclusion that “statuary was selected and organized around themes appropriate to

place.”194 Ultimately, this emphasis on place and what is considered appropriate to it may

offer us a better way to explain Constantine’s variegated and seemingly at times

contradictory religious activity. There are a number of different terms we might employ to describe his approach, such as perspectival or situational. We might also evoke post-

colonial theorists notions of subject positions here,195 whereby we would recognize that

Constantine’s actions were not determined by one ideology (such as Eusebius’

construction of Christianity as being radically distinct from Paganism), but were instead

geared toward different social groups and settings (see my Introduction). Perhaps it is

more appropriate, however, to define his approach as locative, that is, based on place.196

This had always been the traditional understanding of religion in the ancient

Mediterranean, with its focus on temples, at least until Christians began to put forth a

more universalizable and place-less (utopian) conception of religion. Constantine, then,

193 In particular, Sarah Bassett, '()*+,-&.*/0&1)*#2*3&4)*5.4%67)*8#.!4&.4%.#"$) (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004); but also eadem, “Historiae custos: Sculpture and Tradition in the Baths of Zeuxippos,” *50),%9&.*:#7,.&$*#2*5,9(&)#$#1; 100 (1996) 491-506.

194 +,-&.*/0&1), 75.

195 See references in my introduction.

196 For an explication of this concept, see Jonathan Z. Smith, <&"*%!*=#4*'),,%4#,;,*101-3 and "&!!%0, where he unpacks the point that, “The question of character of the place on which one stands is the fundamental symbolic and social question. Once an individual or culture has expressed its vision of its place, a whole language of symbols and social structure will follow” (141). For a further investigation of the central role of place in ritual, see idem, '#*'&>)*?$&9)@*'#A&,B*'()#,;*%.*C%47&$ (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987).

201 seems to be operating under the assumption that religion needs to be rooted in a particular place. But not only that, he (and/or those working for him) seems to have recognized that different places call for the use of different discourses or constellations of symbols.

Again, Bassett’s work on the evidence from Constantinople will help to clarify this.

The choice of religious buildings and imagery employed to help establish and advertise Constantine’s new capital does not fit well with Eusebius’ exclusivist view of religion. It is clear from the passage quoted above that he is troubled by the presence of these famous objects taken from Pagan sanctuaries. He refers to them as “these very toys,” which are “displayed as a contemptible spectacle.” On the one hand, they are

“objects of skilled artwork in bronze,” which presumably one can admire for their beauty.

On the other hand, they were put there, he insists, “for the laughter and amusement of the spectators.”

The difficulties (from an exclusivist perspective) continue beyond what we can glean from the bishop’s brief account. Constantine, for instance, also had two temples built, one to Kybele/Magna Mater and one to the Roman Tyche. These were positioned on either side of the entrance to the Severan Basilica. Both seem to have been fully functioning; that is, each was equipped with an image of their respective goddesses (and presumably an altar). The statue of Kybele is said to have been removed from a sanctuary outside of

Kyzikos.197

Other potentially “problematic” statues had been shipped in and prominently

displayed. Statues of Aphrodite, Selene, and Zeus, among others, were set up in the

public square known as the Augusteion (the area in front of what became the Hagia

197 Bassett, !"#$%&'($)*, 72.

202

Sophia). This collection, however, may have been meant to express an individual’s horoscope, as Bassett suggests, since images of the Zodiac, the South Pole, and Arcturus were also included.198 The famous Palladion, or wooden statue of the Pallas Athena, said

to have been carried away from Troy by Odysseus, then rescued by Aeneas and brought

eventually to Rome, was removed and set up beneath a colossal statue of Constantine in

the forum.199 This was perhaps viewed as a shocking act of theft in the eyes of some

Romans. From its location in the Temple of Vesta, it had acted as guardian of the city

since time immemorial.200

Other statues could have been misinterpreted by an exclusivist Christian as distinctly

Pagan. Constantine also adorned his forum with images of Thetis, Hera, Aphrodite,

Athena, and Paris. This ensemble, though, would appear to suggest the story of the

Judgment of Paris.201 In addition, Lysippos’ famous seated Herakles (4th c. BCE) was

taken from the Capitol in Rome, where it had stood since 209 BCE as a spoil from the

capture of Tarentum, and set up at the Basilica.202 Statues of the Muses from the Museion

on Mt. Helikon, according Eusebius, were displayed in the imperial palace.203 But these

images also were not cult images per se. The baths received from Constantine statues of

Apollo, Aphrodite, Herakles, and Poseidon.204 This was standard iconography of any

198 Ibid., 74-75.

199 Ibid., 68-69.

200 According to John Malalas, Constantine took this from Rome “secretly” (Bassett, !"#$%&'($)*, 41).

201 Bassett, !"#$%&'($)*, 68-70.

202 Ibid., 73.

203 Ibid., 73.

204 It is possible there were other deities associated with healing and water, such Asklepios, Hygeia, and Dionysios, but our fifth-century source is not complete (Bassett, !"#$%&'($)*, 51-53).

203 bath, however. The Hippodrome exhibited bronze tripods from the Temple of Apollo in

Delphi, seen by Eusebius, and statues of Zeus, the Dioscuri, and Herakles.205 But again,

they were not put there to be worshiped. Nevertheless, we should be mindful of the fact

that all of these were deemed “contemptible” by Eusebius.206 Others may have viewed

these statues as great works of art and expressions of Greek and Roman cultural history.

For Eusebius, however, they were potentially dangerous Pagan images, displayed only

for the purpose of ridicule. The fact that they were statues in the round may have played

into his iconoclastic thinking too. Perhaps all life-like statuary was abhorrent to him

because of its potential to elicit what he might deem “idolatrous” behavior. Ultimately for

him, however, these images, like those presented by the basilica of Tyre, had a didactic

function. In this case, though, it was a negative one.

I have focused here only on buildings and imagery that were likely to have troubled a

religious gatekeeper like Eusebius. If we consider the setting for each, as Bassett has

done, then we get a sense of the place-based logic of each choice.

Eusebius’ agenda was not on display in Constantinople; Constantine’s was. He and

his officials pieced together collections from across the empire that were idiomatic for the

places in which they were to be displayed. Thus, the statuary in the bath complex

“conformed to the traditional thermal themes, while the gathering in the Hippodrome was

of a piece with ancient circus imagery.”207 So, to focus only on the statuary of deities,208

205 Bassett, !"#$%&'($)*, 59-63.

206 The “Sminthian” he refers to is the Temple of Apollo Smintheos at Chyre.

207 Bassett, !"#$%&'($)*, 75-76.

204

Apollo, Aphrodite, Herakles, and Poseidon were sited in the baths because they were associated with healing, water, and physical fitness.209 The Zeus (“Hippias”), Herakles,

Dioscuri, and Delphic tripods were put in the circus because they were traditionally

associated with horses, victory, and athletic contests.210 The forum, with its colossal

bronze depiction of Constantine on a porphyry column in the center,211 was arranged to

recall the emperor’s Trojan, Greek, and Roman predecessors. Across the board, the new

Rome’s iconography stressed continuity with the past and imperial dominion.212

What do we make of this project of “requisitioning”? Constantine obviously considered these statues to be worthy adornments for the city bearing his name – and there were no such Christian equivalents. Eusebius’ claim that they were put there in derision is clearly his attempt to impose his project on Constantine’s. As Bassett points out, this was an enormous undertaking. Well over a hundred statues, mostly bronze, were searched out, shipped, and set up in the city.213 No such massive commission would have

been carried out solely for the purpose of humiliation.

208 The type of statuary put on view was much more extensive than what I have highlighted. The Baths of Zeuxippos, for example, also had twenty-nine statues of mythological figures related to the Trojan Epic (Ibid., 53).

209 Ibid., 52.

210 Ibid., 59-63.

211 This bronze, too, was a reworked statue from Troy, according to John Malalas (Ibid., 41).

212 Other images that linked Constantine’s victories with famous predecessors include: the Ass and Keeper, which commemorated Octavian’s victory at Actium; images of Alexander, Julius Caesar, Augustus, Tiberius, and Diocletian; equestrian statues of Trajan and Hadrian (Bassett, !"#$%&'($)*, 62-64, 68, 71). “Like Nikopolis [built by Octavian after Actium], Constantinople could be seen as a monument to victory and consolidation of one man’s rule. Moreover, like Augustus, Constantine was repudiating a system of power sharing…” (66).

213 “The magnitude of the enterprise was unheard of” (Bassett, !"#$%&'($)*, 39).

205

However, I have also been arguing in my previous chapters that the emperor, regardless of the depth of his piety, was quite capable of exhibiting very intolerant behavior. It is clear from his extensive acquisition of statuary that he was acting in the manner of a victor; and to the victor go the spoils. We can safely assume that not everyone was pleased with the removal of these treasures to Byzantium.

It is worth noting that some of these deities represented so publically in Constantine’s city, particularly Aphrodite and possibly Asklepios, were the same ones whose sanctuaries he supposedly destroyed, according to Eusebius.214 I have already called into

question Eusebius’ list of Pagan sanctuaries despoiled by Constantine. But even if we

take it seriously, from a locative and imperial perspective, Constantine’s work in

Constantinople may not represent a contradiction (or even a change in policy). What he

did in Constantinople and Rome was address the needs and traditions of those places as

imperial centers, which were intended to serve the needs of the empire as a whole.215

And yet, since this collection, which was uprooted from all parts of the empire by imperial fiat, aided the new imperial capital in “transcend[ing] the specificity of time and place to create a universal frame of reference,”216 perhaps Constantine too was going

beyond a strictly locative perspective and creating a city that was, in a sense, every

place.217

214 At least broadly speaking. A Pagan deity was commonly associated with a particular place, such as Hera of Samos or Apollo of Claros, and with particular characteristics, such as Zeus Hippias or Athena Parthenos.

215 See Bassett, !"#$%&'($)*, 56.

216 Ibid., 56.

217 “Constantinople was possessed of a past with a truly catholic appeal” (Ibid., 77); “[T]he removal of some of the ancient world’s most famous and best-loved monuments from the territories of the Roman

206

Empire, and their subsequent integration into the architectural fabric of the capital… pulled together the threads of space and time to make Constantinople a museum of empire” (49).

CONCLUSION

This dissertation has been a study of the Emperor Constantine’s attitudes toward religious buildings. I focused primarily on the literary evidence for such activity as presented by Bishop Eusebius of Caesarea. Within that evidence, I drew distinctions between the discourses employed by the bishop and by the emperor. Modern scholarship,

I argued, has been dominated by Eusebius’ agenda and has tended to downplay the imperial and military context of Constantine’s religious projects. In response, I highlighted this context.

My study of the different rhetorics employed by Eusebius and Constantine (Chapter

2) sought to draw attention to how these actors’ different social positions—as Christian bishop and as Roman emperor—helped to structure their particular accounting of these activities. I argued that Eusebius’ discursive practices reflect those of an intellectual interested in the production of a symbolic understanding of Christian and Pagan place and practice. Eusebius does this through writings and speeches. In orations delivered at the newly minted basilicas at Tyre and Jerusalem, he instructs his Christian audience in the proper understanding of this unaccustomed display of imperial munificence. He stresses the pedagogical role of such visual surroundings, and how they can act to guide souls on their journey through matter. His keys in this are the Incarnation, which he presents as an explanation and justification for Christian temples, and Platonic dualism, in which the church’s layout and iconography is said to reflect heavenly ideals. His extensive use of architectural metaphors includes depicting the recent history of destruction and re-erection of church buildings as a pattern of Christ’s death and

207

! 208

resurrection. All this is done in response to Constantine’s recent material endowments to

Christians and the resultant acceleration in the transformation, or reification, of the

church from assembly to building. Eusebius’ work can be seen, then, as an attempt to

reframe this development, so as to steer his audience away from “idolatry,” or what he

considers to be the worship of matter.

Eusebius’ dualism obliges him to acknowledge that even these ecclesiastical

structures are made up of lifeless matter. And yet, given his strict anti-Pagan stance, he

must walk a fine line in drawing a distinction between Pagan and Christian temples, that

is, between which cultic structures should be constructed and which destroyed. Pagan

temples, he argues, are material ensembles that do not reflect the heavenly archetypes and

are polluted with wrong practices. And yet Constantine, by Eusebius’ own admission,

reused some materials from these polluted settings. This, he insists, was done strictly out of pragmatic considerations.

In addition to his episcopal position and strict sense of Christian exclusivism,

Eusebius also inhabits the position of imperial propagandist. This is what makes him so interesting—and difficult to interpret. Given this tension, his casting of the emperor’s actions in relation to religious property must, almost by necessity, do violence to the evidence.

Constantine’s discourse, on the other hand, is that of a military conqueror and political leader. His victories over Maxentius and Licinius are the defining actions in his

mind that determined his authority and, more importantly for our purposes, his religious 209

! allegiance and the corresponding patron/client relationships.1 Repeatedly, he presents himself as the liberator of the state from tyranny and the restorer of its ancient magnificence. And while this has been readily acknowledged by scholars, the religious dimensions of this position have tended to be obscured or separated out. Constantine is consistently clear that his military and political successes have their source in his proper relationship with the Christian god. The power and veracity of this god has, for him, been proven by the empirical evidence of his success on the battlefield—and conversely, by the failure of his rivals who recognized other deities. I sought to emphasize, then, that his lavish patronage of Christian communities, particularly in the form of grand basilicas, should be seen as a direct expression of this martial relationship.

Both men, then, share a triumphal perspective—but with differing emphases.

Eusebius presents the Constantinian situation as the triumph of Christianity over

Paganism (and all other religions), and speaks of the wholesale erasure of “polluted” temples from the landscape. It is also a triumph for his particular religious population and its imagined predecessors who weathered waves of persecutions, and thus a vindication of his authority and the truth of his construction of reality.2 For Constantine, however, this is his triumph—as general, politician, and “servant” of the Christian god. In contrast to Eusebius, this did not necessarily mean for him the eradication of Paganism and its sanctuaries. Some sites and the practices carried out there are problematic in his mind,

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 1 He cast his defeat of Licinius, for instance, as the event that precipitated the revelation of Jesus’ tomb: “long since hidden under the ground, to have remained unknown for such a long period of years, until through the removal of the enemy of the whole republic it was ready to be revealed” (VC 3.30.1).

2 Some issues remained unresolved, however, such as the relationship of Christ to God.

210

! but he did not—and could not as leader of the empire—adhere to the same exclusivist view of Christianity that Eusebius promoted.

In the following chapter, I asked the question: did Constantine and his officials treat cultic structures differently from their predecessors? My intention was to better situate his actions within the context of his immediate imperial forerunners. This was attempted in order to again help alleviate previous claims that Constantine represented a watershed moment in imperial relations with cults and their property. Eusebius himself had drawn a line between Constantine and his predecessors in this regard.3 I sought to blur that line by considering certain characteristics of Roman administrative, economic, political, and legal history that complicate the Eusebian image.

My focus upon the Roman imperial context should not, however, be seen as an attempt to seek more “secular” or non-theological explanations for Constantine’s religious policies. While I pointed out some economic motivations for some actions taken against Pagan sanctuaries, such as a correlation between Constantine’s monetary policy and the confiscation of temple treasuries,4 I do not wish to claim that these aspects of the imperial process are necessarily theologically neutral. Recent attempts to move the discussion of Constantine’s (and his successors’) acts against Paganism from the theological to the political are, I think, understandable in the light of previous scholarship, but incomplete. In fact, the history of persecutions in the third and fourth

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 3!This did not mean for Eusebius that this emperor was, or should be, indulgent or tolerant toward other cults. This was not a value for Eusebius. It meant, instead, that his “side” was now the privileged recipient of imperial benefaction: “the successes bestowed by the god of the emperor on our side” (VC 3.56.3).

4 The vast amount of precious metals in the ancient temples of the East came under Constantine’s control, as noted in Georges Depeyrot, “Economy and Society,” in Lenski, CCAC.

211

! centuries reveals how readily emperors sought religious solutions to seemingly more

“secular” (that is, financial and security) problems.

I took this tack, however, to acknowledge some of the wider issues that emperors had to attend to and the further social implications of this change in religious patronage.

There were, for instance, economic implications of temple closures and the shift of property to Christians. Constantine’s redistribution of property among these religious communities should also be seen within the historical context of the end, more or less, of

Roman territorial expansion and its repercussions for tax revenue.

I also sought to expand upon the history of Roman actions taken against religious associations and their property by juxtaposing it with the on-going potential for other forms of corporate control and discipline, such as slavery, property confiscation, and the use of violent, exemplary punishments in the courts. The marked increase in the military presence in many cities and towns due to their relocation from the frontiers by

Constantine would also have an effect on such imperial social policies.

In addition, I tried to situate Constantine’s actions for and against temples within the long and storied history of victorious generals and their practice of, on the one hand, pillaging and sacking of temples for booty, and, on the other, building, and decorating with this war booty, houses for those gods whom they felt secured them their success. I wish to point out, in other words, that temples had always been favored sites for the display of military domination and imperial ideology, and that, as a consequence, their spoliation was not a practice unique to the fourth century. I emphasized the imperial, dominating aspect of Roman history in order to help complicate those portraits of religious history built largely upon the inclusive character of polytheism. The remainder 212

of the chapter sought to situate Constantine within the broader scholarly revisioning of

the history of the Later Roman Empire, with its questions of continuity and change and,

ultimately, explanations for fragmentation.

In the final chapter, I analyzed in some detail a wide range of actual sites across the

empire that received Constantinian attention. I attempted to broaden the picture presented

in our ancient literary accounts with modern archaeological material. Before moving on

to his construction and destruction activity, though, I first addressed the common

scholarly question of whether to characterize such activity as pious or pragmatic, and

argued that this is a false and anachronistic dichotomy, which again attempts to separate

religion and politics as if they were, as there are in modernity, discrete fields of practice.

The primary approach and organizing principle for my discussion of these sites—

from Rome to Palestine to Constantinople—was to present them in the light of

Constantine as imperial victor. In Rome, I highlighted the role that Maxentius played in

determining Constantine’s building activities there, and pointed out that, not only did

Constantine largely appropriate his rival’s projects, but he did so in order to erase him

from public memory. I argued that his Christian basilicas can be understood as the

monuments of this victorious imperator, and that his Christian constructions did not reflect an attempt on his part to either appease (by their peripheral placement) or shun the

Roman Pagan aristocracy. Constantine’s benefactions in Rome, in fact, cut across any

supposed Christian/Pagan divide.

I then addressed what I perceive to be a marked silence on Rome in Eusebius’

account on Constantine’s construction activity, and how he does not develop further in

his Vita Constantini upon the brief portrait of the emperor’s activities in Rome from his 213

! earlier works. I offered some suggestions for this lacuna, and examined the later ecclesiastical historians for any further elaborations. In the end, however, it stands as an observation in need of a better explanation.

Moving east, though, we are on firmer, or at least more data-rich, ground with

Eusebius. I focused here on his account in Jerusalem of the discovery of the tomb of

Jesus and the construction of the Martyrium basilica, and analyzed his claim that a Pagan shrine to Aphrodite had been built here to deliberately erase memories of the tomb. It is my contention here that historians and excavators of the site have been uncritically reproducing Eusebius’ version of events as if his words gave literal correspondence. My approach, instead, was to examine the rhetoric of his arguments and to be mindful of the categories he employs. I point out here also that most research on the site has consisted of a positivist search for the historical tomb of Jesus using the Gospel accounts as a guide. I argued, instead, that this should be approached as a fourth-century project initiated by a victorious emperor and chronicled by an exclusivist Christian bishop. With imperial propaganda in mind, then, I considered the nature of the shrine supplanted and its possible symbolic associations. I offered a number of possible and contradictory interpretations in order to challenge and complicate previous work on the tomb. My focus was on the role of imperial propaganda and Eusebius’ construction of Paganism and its sites and how that should be primary in our analyses here.

I then turned to Eusebius’ attempts to portray Constantine as the vanquisher of

Paganism, and examined his further claims of four Pagan sites being destroyed. I suggested here that it is very possible that these claims reflect more the concerns of

Eusebius than of Constantine, and questioned the extent of these actions. 214

Finally, I considered the founding and adornment of Constantine’s new capital city. I

noted Eusebius’ further attempts to fit this activity into his rigid, exclusivist Christian

vision and how he argues that Constantine’s use of Pagan statuary in the capital was

meant to ridicule Pagan beliefs and practices. I argued, instead, that Constantine’s actions

here and elsewhere suggest that he operated under a traditional locative understanding of

religion. This is evident in the choice of Pagan statuary that was appropriate to specific

public places and the practices associated with them (such as healing at the baths, athletic

contests at the circus, etc.). In addition, I also pointed out that he can be understood to be

acting as a conqueror would, by accumulating spoils from across the empire in order to

legitimate his own monuments.

One further issue I sought to address here, and throughout this dissertation, involves

identity. I argued that much scholarship on Constantine, and his approach toward matters

of religion in particular, has operated under a modernist conception of identity, in which

the self is understood to be fixed, stable, and consistent, a conception that recognizes only

one ideology as being operative in a person’s social relations. That ideology in the case of

Constantine is generally understood to be Christianity, and in particular an exclusivist

Christianity of the type advocated by Eusebius. This again, I claimed, uncritically reproduces Eusebius’ agenda and reframing of Constantine’s actions. To counter this, I employed one aspect of post-structuralist theories of identity or the self, namely, that people take up different discourses and ideologies in different settings. A consequence of this is a recognition that people behave in contradictory ways, despite our attempts to impose a unifying narrative. Eusebius here has attempted to construct such a narrative for the Emperor Constantine, one that is predicated on the belief that there is one consistent 215

! set of principles that have guided his thirty years of religious policies. In turn, I would say that modern scholarship on the emperor and religion has been dominated by such an attempt to explain his seemingly contradictory actions within a Eusebian vision of

Christianity.

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