"I wished to see a king, not corpses." ~ Achilles, Alexander, Augustus and the historian as transmitter of heroic virtue

Detail from Augustus Caesar visits the tomb of Alexander the Great by French artist Lionel Royer (1878).

The dominant literary culture of the late 20th century loved to tear down the heroes of the past, focusing almost entirely on their flaws while belittling the virtues, beliefs, and deeds that made them worthy of admiration in the first place. I have written about this annoying tendency previously on several occasions, including here and here.

In our own time, we are afflicted with a slightly different problem: cultural arbiters who know almost nothing about the great men and women who went before them, save the cherry-picked anecdotes that magically seem to support their political cause of the moment. It has recently gotten to the point where these intellectually vacuous creatures have become parodies of historians and educators, rhetorically incapable of discerning even between men and women, let alone moral and immoral behavior.

But let us not be lulled into the belief that it was always this way. 

Until fairly recently, it was considered one of the primary duties of the historian to exalt the brilliant words and actions of the good and great, offering them up to subsequent generations as worthy of emulation. Whatever foibles may have co-existed with said virtues could be offered as cautionary examples to be avoided, but they were never presented as the primary drivers of the hero’s character.

Education in the classical world followed this pattern, and the celebrated men of one era could often point to their motivation coming from the acts of great men who preceded them—often by centuries. Examples abound, but let’s look at three in particular who lined up as sort of an inspiration conduit. All three of them would become the greatest political or military heroes of their respective ages. 

According to Homer’s Odyssey, following the death of their greatest warrior, Achilles, the Greeks, “heaped up a great and goodly tomb on a projecting headland by the broad Hellespont that could be seen from far from the sea both by men that now are and that shall be born hereafter.” (Odyssey, Book XXIV, 80-84)

This tomb would be visited by many famous individuals in antiquity as a kind of pilgrimage site, particularly for those seeking to venerate the great warrior in anticipation of a campaign of their own. Among those who visited the shrine was Alexander the Great. Seeing parallels between his own expedition and that of the Mycenean Greeks of 800 years before, Alexander made a point of stopping at the site of ancient Troy on his way to make war on the Persians. In Plutarch’s Life of Alexander, the following memorial of the event is recorded:

"Then, going up to Ilium, he sacrificed to Athena and poured libations to the heroes. Furthermore, the gravestone of Achilles he anointed with oil, ran a race by it with his companions, naked, as is the custom, and then crowned it with garlands, pronouncing the hero happy in having, while he lived, a faithful friend, and after death, a great herald of his fame. As he was going about and viewing the sights of the city, someone asked him if he wished to see the lyre of Paris. 'For that lyre,' said Alexander, 'I care very little; but I would gladly see that of Achilles, to which he used to sing the glorious deeds of brave men.'" [Plutarch, Life of Alexander, Section 15]

A few more details are added by Arrian in his Anabasis: 

"Alexander then encircled the tomb of Achilles with a garland….There is indeed a report that Alexander pronounced Achilles fortunate in getting Homer as the herald of his fame to posterity." [Arrian of Nicomedia, The Anabasis of Alexander, Book I, Chapter XII ]

As the most important extant chronicler of Alexander’s campaigns, Arrian also points out that Alexander had a desire to imitate the hero of the Trojan war from his boyhood, and sought to equal and surpass his achievements. [Arrian of Nicomedia, The Anabasis of Alexander, Book VII, Chapter XIV]

Detail from Alexander the Great at the tomb of Achilles by Giovanni Paninni (1718).

Alexander perished after gaining unparalleled victories over the hated Persians. Realizing immediately the inspirational value of Alexander’s remains, his general Ptolemy snatched up Alexander’s corpse when it was on its way back to Macedonia from Babylon, and re-routed it to Egypt and the conqueror’s greatest foundation, Alexandria. There, Ptolemy would establish his own kingdom, and the body of his one-time benefactor would repose in a shrine which was likely much more grand than the ancient tumulus of Achilles. 

Three hundred years after Alexander’s death, another conqueror would arrive following his defeat of Antony and Cleopatra at Actium, and the dissolution of the Ptolemaic kingdom in Egypt. This was Octavian Caesar who, a few years later, would be called Caesar Augustus, Rome's first emperor. Arriving in Alexandria following his complete victory, Octavian made his way to the shrine of Alexander, as recorded by Suetonius:  

"About this time he had the sarcophagus and body of Alexander the Great brought forth from its shrine,⁠ and after gazing on it, showed his respect by pla­cing upon it a golden crown and strewing it with flowers; and being then asked whether he wished to see the tomb of the Ptolemies as well, he replied, 'My wish was to see a king, not corpses.'" [Suetonius, Lives of the Caesars, Life of Augustus]

The reader will note the similarity between Octavian's response and that of Alexander. There is some historical complexity here in that Plutarch's account of Alexander and Suetonius's account of Augustus were written at about the same time (late 1st - early 2nd century AD). Both were certainly based on earlier sources which have not come down to us. It is likely that Octavian was aware of Alexander's response regarding the lyre of Paris when he made his quip about wanting "to see a king, not corpses."

Dio Cassius records Augustus's visit to the body of Alexander as well, but adds an additional detail:

“[Octavian] viewed the body of Alexander and actually touched it, whereupon, it is said, a piece of the nose was broken off. But he declined  to view the remains of the Ptolemies, though the Alexandrians were extremely eager to show them, remarking, 'I wished to see a king, not corpses.' For this same reason he would not enter the presence of Apis, either, declaring that he was accustomed to worship gods, not cattle.” [Dio Cassius, Roman History, Book LI]

Augustus was, no doubt, impressed by his visit because he began construction of a tomb of his own shortly following his return to Rome. This was to be a grand construction rivaling the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus, which itself was one of the wonders of the ancient world. This Mausoleum of Augustus would serve to inspire generations of Romans before falling to ruins during the Middle Ages.

As these examples make clear, admiration of heroes for their virtues often extended to that common human desire to visit and adorn the remains of the hero following his death. In doing so, it was hoped that some sort of mystical connection might be established by which some portion of the hero's genius and fortune would be transferred to his devotee. This tendency in antiquity pre-figured the later Christian practice of veneration of the relics of the saints and martyrs, and the subsequent doctrinal understanding of the efficacy of the intercession of the saints who are in Heaven with Christ. 

Thus Christians would gain inspiration and motivation not from men who managed to achieve military glory or political triumphs, like Achilles or Alexander, but from humble souls like Justin Martyr or Augustine of Hippo whose victories often involved the sacrifice or their own lives for the sake of Christ, or the conversion of thousands through fearlessly preaching the truth of the Gospel. 

It is for this reason that Catholics ought to take the teaching of authentic Christian history — which our children will never get in state-run schools and only occasionally in Catholic schools — very seriously. Otherwise, the connection to the virtuous examples of our progenitors would be lost, and in their absence, our children will take their inspiration from the vain two-dimensional paragons provided by movie, pop-music, and sport.

The Mausoleum of Augustus following the renovations initiated by Mussolini in the 1930s.

As a postscript, it is worth remembering that most of the devotees who visited the tombs of dead heroes did not possess the innate ability to attain greatness themselves and often absorbed the wrong message. A few of them were downright awful human beings who brought destruction upon themselves and their countries. Suetonius records that the notorious emperor Gaius Caligula treated the tomb of Alexander with somewhat less respect than his great grandfather, having looted Alexander's armor which he sometimes wore in public [Lives of the Caesars, Life of Caligula]. 

Meanwhile, the Mausoleum of Augustus would later be restored, and made the centerpiece of a piazza by a self-styled illustrious man of the 20th century who viewed himself as the successor of Achilles, Alexander, and Augustus. This was none other than Il Duce himself, Benito Mussolini, who wished to attain the status of hero without bothering to emulate the heroic virtues. Upon his death, his desecrated corpse became not the center of cultic devotion, but rather an object of scorn and shame, hanging from a lamp-post. 

Was Constantine a Sincere Christian? ~ In his own words: The Oration of Constantine to the Saints

At 43 feet in height, the replica of the Colossus of Constantine in Rome is truly impressive.

Most visitors to Rome over the years have marveled at the famous fragments of the Colossus of Constantine. Largely destroyed and dismantled in antiquity, this massive work of marble, wood and bronze once stood in the Basilica of Maxentius. Significant chunks of the Colossus are now located in a courtyard at the Capitoline Museum in Rome where my wife and I visited them on our honeymoon a few decades back. 

In 2024, a magnificent replica of the Colossus was erected nearby in the garden behind the Capitoline Museum. While the sheer size of the work has drawn considerable attention, the fact that it does not display any obvious Christian iconography and, indeed, seems to portray the emperor as Zeus-like, has led some folks to assume that the replica is evidence that Constantine's Christianity was somehow insincere. 

My wife with Constantine's
tremendous head in 2000.

How close this modern replica resembles the original is a matter of conjecture, as its creators exercised some significant interpretive license with regard to the design. This matter is dealt with in considerable detail in an excellent post on the NumisForms site entitled: Designing a Colossus. So I'll not get into much detail on that question here. Suffice it to say that the decision by the Factum Foundation to portray Constantine as Zeus was based on "conjecture, maybe not even particularly well informed conjecture."

The point of this post is to contradict the facile confirmation bias that many experience when seeing this version of the Colossus. The most common immediate reaction is: "See? Constantine was a pagan and portrayed himself as such." 

Well, sure. Up through about AD 306 Constantine was a pagan. Beyond that, he reportedly even had a vision of Apollo a few years before his more famous vision of the Cross. But after the Battle of the Milvian Bridge, Constantine began the process of becoming a Christian. It is not known when exactly he became a catechumen, but after about AD 312 when he and Licinius issued the Edict of Milan, his affinity for Christianity becomes increasingly evident.

By AD 324, following his defeat of Licinius, it is absolutely evident that Constantine is a Christian. Anyone who doubts that can read the words he himself spoke in his Oration to the Saints. The text of this lecture was preserved by the bishop Eusebius Pamphilus who knew Constantine personally and also wrote his well-known ancient biography, Life of the Blessed Emperor Constantine. The entire oration is a profession of Constantine's faith and a defense of Christianity. In it, you will find the emperor praying emphatically:

"Do thou, O Christ, Savior of mankind, be present to aid me in my hallowed task! Direct the words which celebrate your virtues, and instruct me worthily to sound your praises." [Oration to the Saints, Chapter 11]

You will also find Constantine presenting evidence for the truth of Christianity, not only from the Hebrew prophets of the Old Testament, but also from pagans such as the Erythrean sibyl and from the Roman poet, Virgil, author of the foundational epic of Rome, the Aeneid. 

The emperor goes on to condemn those pagans who have persecuted Christians, even going so far as to ridicule pagan beliefs, saying: 

"What, then, have you gained by these atrocious deeds, most impious of men? And what was the cause of your insane fury? You will say, doubtless, these acts of yours were done in honor of the gods. What gods are these?...You will allege, perhaps, the customs of your ancestors and the opinion of mankind in general, as the cause of this conduct. I grant the fact: for those customs are very like the acts themselves, and proceed from the self-same source of folly. You thought, it may be, that some special power resided in images formed and fashioned by human art; and hence your reverence, and diligent care lest they should be defiled: those mighty and highly exalted gods, thus dependent on the care of men!" 

[Oration to the Saints, Chapter 22]

Finally, in an echo of his contemporary and sometime confidant, Lactantius, Constantine gives a brief catalog of the dreadful ends suffered by those emperors who persecuted Christians most severely: 

"To you, Decius, I now appeal, who has trampled with insult on the labors of the righteous: to you, the hater of the Church, the punisher of those who lived a holy life: what is now your condition after death? How hard and wretched your present circumstances! Nay, the interval before your death gave proof enough of your miserable fate, when overthrown with all your army on the plains of Scythia, you exposed the vaunted power of Rome to the contempt of the Goths.

You, too, Valerian, who manifested the same spirit of cruelty towards the servants of God, hast afforded an example of righteous judgment. A captive in the enemies' hands, led in chains while yet arrayed in the purple and imperial attire, and at last your skin stripped from you, and preserved by command of Sapor the Persian king, you have left a perpetual trophy of your calamity. 

And thou, Aurelian, fierce perpetrator of every wrong, how signal was your fall, when, in the midst of your wild career in Thrace, you were slain on the public highway, and filled the furrows of the road with your impious blood!" [Oration to the Saints, Chapter 24]

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Of course, he could not leave out his contemporary and one-time mentor/captor, Diocletian. In this passage, Constantine provides his own witness of Diocletian's vicious character and unstable psyche, attributes which are echoed by Lactantius in his own work, On the Deaths of the Persecutors: 

"Diocletian, however, after the display of relentless cruelty as a persecutor, evinced a consciousness of his own guilt and owing to the affliction of a disordered mind, endured the confinement of a mean and separate dwelling. What then, did he gain by his active hostility against our God? Simply this I believe, that he passed the residue of his life in continual dread of the lightning's stroke. Nicomedia attests the fact; eyewitnesses, of whom I myself am one, declare it. The palace, and the emperor's private chamber were destroyed, consumed by lightning, devoured by the fire of heaven. Men of understanding hearts had indeed predicted the issue of such conduct; for they could not keep silence, nor conceal their grief at such unworthy deeds; but boldly and openly expressed their feeling, saying one to another: What madness is this? And what an insolent abuse of power, that man should dare to fight against God; should deliberately insult the most holy and just of all religions; and plan, without the slightest provocation, the destruction of so great a multitude of righteous persons?" [Oration to the Saints, Chapter 25]

Interestingly, Lactantius also reports fire destroying parts of the imperial palace in Nicomedia on two separate occasions 15 days apart. He claims that the fires were set by Diocletian's junior emperor, Galerius, in an effort to frame the Christians for the deeds. [see On the Deaths of the Persecutors, Chapter 14]

Constantine wrapped up his oration with a ringing profession of his faith in Jesus, urging his hearers to pray fervently to Christ:

"It becomes all pious persons to render thanks to the Savior of all, first for our own individual security, and then for the happy posture of public affairs: at the same time intreating the favor of Christ with holy prayers and constant supplications, that he would continue to us our present blessings. For he is the invincible ally and protector of the righteous: he is the supreme judge of all things, the prince of immortality, the Giver of everlasting life." [Oration to the Saints, Chapter 26]

After reading the entirety of Constantine's oration, it becomes impossible to maintain the position that the first Roman emperor to tolerate Christianity formally in law did not truly believe Christian doctrine or remained partially pagan to the end of his life. 

Although he was unbaptized until shortly before his death, Constantine was clearly a believing Christian catechumen with a zeal for bearing witness to the faith even publicly with his own lips.  

"Attila shouted that he would have crucified him and given him as food to the birds." ~ Priscus and the Roman Embassy to the Huns of AD 448

The Roman Embassy to Attila by Cecila Lawrence, as it appears on the cover of
Given's Fragmentary History of Priscus. 

Much of our detailed knowledge of Attila and the Huns comes from one relatively obscure source, the late 5th century History of Priscus. It’s probable that you’ve never heard of Priscus because his history was considered lost after about the 10th century AD. All that survives of it are fragments that later historians have recovered from other ancient and medieval sources that incorporated or paraphrased certain passages of interest. Excerpts from Priscus may be found embedded within works such as the Gothic History of Jordanes, the Histories of Procopius, the works of Constantine Porphyrogenitus, the Suda, the History of John of Antioch, and several others.

Priscus possessed such in depth knowledge about the Huns because he had a personal encounter with Attila himself. In AD 448 or 449, Priscus was part of an embassy to the Huns sent by the Emperor Theodosius II and his right-hand eunuch, Chrysaphius. At that time, Attila was threatening both the Eastern and Western Roman Empires, and both halves were making every possible attempt to pacify the barbarian and his pillaging horde. In fact, Chrysaphius and Theodosius had made a secret pact with one of Attila’s leading advisors, Edekon by name, to make sure that Attila rested in peace—for good. Unbeknownst to them, however, Edekon had revealed everything to Attila, and the King of the Huns was well prepared to deal with the potentially treacherous Roman embassy when it arrived.

Priscus has left a fascinating account of his visit to the Huns and his initial meeting with Attila. Following is an excerpt from the Fragmentary History of Priscus as translated by John Given, detailing the opening phase of what must have been a very frightening encounter:

You may also listen to the excerpt at the video above. 

FRAGMENT 8: From the Excerpts on Romans’ Embassies to Foreigners of Constantine VII Porphyrogennetos

After the eunuch Chrysaphius urged Edekon to kill Attila, Emperor Theodosius and the magister Martialios decided, as they discussed the events, to dispatch as ambassadors to Attila not only Bigilas but also Maximinos. They also decided that Bigilas, as a pretense, should keep occupying the translator’s post and should do whatever Edekon thought best, and Maximinos, since he knew nothing of their plans, should deliver the emperor’s letter....

With earnest entreaty, Maximinos persuaded me to accompany him on this embassy. And so, closely following the road alongside the barbarians, we reached Serdica, a thirteen days’ journey from Constantinople for a lightly armed man. There, as we settled into our quarters, we thought it would be a good idea to invite Edekon and his barbarian companions to a feast. We bought sheep and cows from the locals, slaughtered them and made our meal. At the height of the banquet, when the barbarians were extolling Attila and we the emperor, Bigilas said it was not right to juxtapose a god and a man—meaning by “man” Attila and by “god” Theodosius. The Huns were agitated and, their temperatures rising little by little, grew angry. We turned the conversation to other topics and appeased their anger with friendliness...

Arriving at Naissos, we found the city bereft of people because it had been overturned by the enemy, though there were some people in the sacred lodgings who were suffering from diseases. We camped a little bit upriver in a clearing, since the bank was everywhere covered with the bones of war casualties...

After passing the night, we traveled from the region of Naissos to the Istros River....After we crossed the Istros and traveled about seventy stades with the barbarians, we were forced to wait on a plain so that Edekon’s men could inform Attila of our arrival. The barbarians stayed with us and acted as our guides. As we were taking our dinner in the late afternoon we heard the rumble of horses coming toward us. Two Scythian men arrived and ordered us to go to Attila. First, though, we asked them to join us for dinner. They dismounted and we sumptuously entertained them. On the next day they led us along the road. Around the ninth hour of the day we reached Attila’s tents (and there were many tents there). We wanted to pitch ours on the crest of a hill, but the barbarians who met us prevented it, since Attila’s tent was on lower ground.

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Once we settled down where the Scythians wanted, Edekon, Orestes, Skottas and some other select men came and asked what our embassy was eager to procure. We expressed our confusion at the senseless question and kept looking at one another, but they continued to trouble us for an answer. When we said that the emperor bade us to speak to Attila and to no one else, Skottas replied angrily that their order was from their leader; they would not have come to us out of their own desire to meddle. We said that it was not customary for ambassadors to be questioned by intermediaries about why they had come without their meeting nor even seeing the parties to whom they had been sent. This, we said, was not unknown even to the Scythians, who often sent ambassadors to the emperor. It was necessary that we receive identical treatment; otherwise we would not disclose the embassy’s purpose. So we spoke, and they withdrew to Attila.

Again they returned, though without Edekon, repeated to us all the reasons for which we had come on the embassy, and ordered us to go away by the quickest route possible unless we could name anything else. We were still more mystified by these words since it was not easy to see how decisions made by the emperor in secret had become clearly known. We believed that it was to our benefit to answer nothing further about the embassy unless we gained access to Attila. So we said it was their leader who asked whether we came to negotiate the things listed by the Scythians or other matters too; we would not discuss it with anyone other than him. They immediately ordered us to leave....

At this point, Priscus goes off on a slight tangent, explaining that Bigilas was insistent on meeting with Attila, boasting that if he would be able to meet with him, he would easily persuade him to make peace. It is not clear that Priscus or anyone else among the Romans knew at this point that the true purpose of the embassy was to arrange the assassination of Attila. Priscus explains, however, that unbeknownst to Bigilas, the plot had already been revealed to Attila by Edekon.

Priscus continues:

We had already loaded our baggage onto the pack animals and were attempting—out of necessity, at nighttime—to begin our journey, when some of the barbarians came and said Attila told us to remain because of the late hour. To the place from which we were getting ready to set out, some men brought us a cow and some river-caught fish sent by Attila. Then, after dining, we turned to sleep. When day came, we thought that the barbarian would reveal some kind, pleasant news.  Once again, however, he sent the same men, advising us to go away unless we had something to say beyond what they already knew. We said no and began preparing for the journey, although Bigilas vehemently argued we should say that we had more to say.

Seeing Maximinos very dejected, I went out with Roustikios since he knew the barbarians’ language fluently. (He had come with us to Scythia not on the embassy, but for some business with Constantius, Attila’s Italian secretary, whom Aetius, the Western Roman general, had sent.) I came to Skottas—Onegesios was not present at the time— and, addressing him through the translator Roustikios, I said that he would receive numerous gifts from Maximinos if he helped him get access to Attila. The embassy, I said, would benefit not only the Romans and the Huns but also Onegesios, since the emperor wanted him to come and mediate the nations’ differences, and he would receive magnificent gifts when he went. Since Onegesios was away, I said, he needed to support us, and more his brother, in pursuit of this good business. I said we knew Attila followed his guidance too, but we would not firmly believe the reports about him unless we came to know his power through experience. He replied that no one any longer doubted Attila deemed his words and deeds equal to his brother’s. And he immediately mounted his horse and rode to Attila’s tent.

I returned to Maximinos, who with Bigilas was perplexed and at a loss regarding the recent events. I repeated what I said to Skottas and what I heard from him, and said that we needed to prepare the gifts for the barbarian and to calculate what we would say to him. Both of them leapt up (they happened to be lying in the grass), praised my actions and called back those who had already departed with the pack animals. They considered how to address Attila and how to give him the emperor’s gifts as well as what Maximinos had brought for him. As we were worrying about these things, Attila summoned us through Skottas. And so at last we came to Attila’s tent, which was guarded by a barbarian multitude arrayed in a circle.

When we reached the entrance, we found Attila seated on a wooden chair. Maximinos approached, as the rest of us stood a short distance from the seat, and he greeted the barbarian. Giving him the emperor’s letter, he said that the emperor prayed that he and those around him were safe. Attila replied that the Romans would have what they desired for him. He turned his attention straight to Bigilas, called him a shameless beast and asked why he wanted to come to him, considering that he knew his and Anatolios’s peacetime agreement that no ambassadors should come to him until all fugitives had been surrendered to the barbarians. Bigilas said that there was not a single Scythian fugitive among the Romans; those who had been there had been surrendered. Growing angrier and reviling him all the more, Attila shouted that he would have crucified him and given him as food to the birds, if he did not think inflicting this penalty on his shamelessness and on the effrontery of his words would violate sacred diplomatic law. There were, he said, fugitives of their race among the Romans—many of them—whose names, which had been recorded on papyrus, he ordered the secretaries to read out.

When they had gone through <all the> absent men, he ordered Bigilas to depart without a moment’s delay. He would send Eslas with him too, he said, to tell the Romans they should send him all the barbarian fugitives, from the time of Karpileon (the son of Aetius, the Western Roman general), who had lived as a hostage at his court. He would not allow his own subjects to fight against him, although they were incapable of helping anyone who trusted them to protect his land. What city, he asked, or what fortress had they saved, once he himself had begun a siege? He told us to return again after we had repeated his demands about the fugitives and to say whether the Romans wanted to surrender them or undertake war on their behalf. He had earlier told Maximinos to stay, so that he might reply to the emperor’s letter through him, and so he permitted us to present the gifts Maximinos was carrying and to withdraw.

We presented the gifts and retired into our tent, where we reviewed what had been said. Bigilas was amazed how Attila angrily reviled him, even though he seemed gentle and kind to him on his previous embassy. I expressed the fear that some of the barbarians who had feasted with us in Serdica had made Attila hostile to him by reporting that he called the Roman emperor a god but Attila a man. Maximinos thought that was right, since he was <not> a partner in the eunuch’s conspiracy against the barbarian. Bigilas was doubtful and seemed to me at a loss to explain why Attila had reviled him. He thought, as he later told us, that neither the events in Serdica nor the details of the plot had been reported to Attila, because, on the one hand, no one else from the group, he thought, was bold enough to speak with Attila due to the fear that governed them all; on the other hand Edekon, he thought, would keep his silence completely because of his oaths and the uncertainty of the deed, in fear that he himself too, since he was a participant in such plans, would lose his favored status and suffer death as punishment. [Given, Fragmentary History of Priscus, pages 47-55]

What happens next is perhaps even more intriguing. Later, Priscus would meet a former Roman citizen who had been taken captive by the Huns. This man would claim that life as a prisoner among the Huns was superior to life as a Roman. His debate with Priscus on this topic is perhaps the most famous of the surviving fragments of Priscus’s History and well worth reading. I have discussed this debate in a previous post: "Romans are easily killed in war because they rely on others for safety" ~ Priscus and the notion of Romans voluntarily becoming Huns.

"Ravening wolves have swallowed up the flock of the Lord which was growing up in Ireland." ~ Saint Patrick's authentic letter to the soldiers of Coroticus

Detail from a stained glass window showing Patrick preaching, Carlow Cathedral, Ireland.

Of the two authentic writings of Saint Patrick that have come down to us from antiquity, the first—the Confessio—I have addressed in a previous post entitled: The real Saint Patrick in his own words.

The second is the Letter to the Soldiers of Coroticus. For this St. Patrick’s Day, when war and rumors of war roil our world once again, and stories of atrocities fill up every media outlet, Patrick’s letter to the soldiers of Coroticus, full of condemnation and fulmination against those who would dare lay violent hands upon the innocent, takes on particular import.

Very little is known about the historical circumstances that prompted the writing of the letter, aside from the explanation offered by Patrick himself in the text. Coroticus is thought to have been a petty king or warlord from Scotland, often identified with Ceretic, king of Alt Clut (Strathclyde) in the mid-5th century AD.

I post below the letter in its entirety as taken from the public domain work, Saint Patrick: His Writings and Life by Newport J.D. White (1920) from the Translations of Christian Literature series. I have taken the liberty of interspersing a few comments of my own among the paragraphs with the hope that the reader will be indulgent.

1. Patrick the sinner, unlearned verily—I confess that I am a bishop, appointed by God, in Ireland. Most surely I deem that from God I have received what I am. And so I dwell in the midst of barbarians, a stranger and an exile for the love of God. He is witness if this is so. Not that I desired to utter from my mouth anything so harshly and so roughly; but I am compelled by zeal for God; and the truth of Christ roused me, for the love of my nearest friends and sons, for whom I have not regarded my fatherland and kindred, yea nor my life, even unto death, if I am worthy. I have vowed to my God to teach the heathen, though I be despised by some.

2. With mine own hand have I written and composed these words to be given and delivered and sent to the soldiers of Coroticus—I do not say to my fellow-citizens or to the fellow-citizens of the holy Romans, but to those who are fellow-citizens of demons because of their evil deeds. Behaving like enemies, they are dead while they live, allies of the Scots and apostate Picts, as though wishing to gorge themselves with blood, the blood of innocent Christians, whom I in countless numbers begot to God and confirmed in Christ.

It is thought, based on the above paragraph, that some of the soldiers of Coroticus were, in fact, Christians themselves, though perhaps apostates. It is to these that Patrick’s appeal is particularly addressed, in an effort to shame them into repenting of their evil deeds.

3. On the day following that on which the newly baptized, in white array, were anointed—it was still fragrant on their foreheads while they were cruelly butchered and slaughtered with the sword by the aforesaid persons—I sent a letter with a holy presbyter whom I had taught from his infancy, clergy accompanying him, with a request that they would grant us some of the booty and of the baptized captives whom they had taken. They jeered at them.

4. Therefore I know not what I should the rather mourn: whether those who are slain, or those whom they captured, or those whom the devil grievously ensnared. In everlasting punishment they will become slaves of hell along with him; for verily whosoever committeth sin is a bondservant of sin, and is called a son of the devil.

5. On this account let every man that feareth God learn that aliens they are from me and from Christ my God, for whom I am an ambassador—patricide, fratricide as he is!—ravening wolves eating up the people of the Lord as it were bread. As he saith, O Lord, the ungodly have destroyed thy law, which in the last times he had excellently (and) kindly planted in Ireland; and it was builded by the favour of God.

6. I make no false claim. I have part with those whom he called and predestinated to preach the Gospel amidst no small persecutions, even unto the ends of the earth, even though the enemy casts an evil eye on me by means of the tyranny of Coroticus, who fears neither God nor his priests whom he chose, and to whom he granted that highest, divine, sublime power, that whom they should bind on earth should be bound in heaven.'

7. Whence therefore, ye holy and humble men of heart, I beseech you very much. It is not right to pay court to such men, nor to take food or drink with them; nor ought one to accept their almsgivings, until [doing] sore penance with shedding of tears, they make amends to God, and liberate the servants of God and the baptized handmaidens of Christ, for whom he died and was crucified.

Here Patrick excommunicates the Christians among Coroticus's men, and calls on those who still consider themselves Christians to repent. For those Christians living in Coroticus's domains, Patrick calls upon them to separate themselves from the ungodly man who rules them. This is something of a bold comment particularly to modern ears which can stand no righteous judgments against rulers who enact and celebrate wicked and immoral policies. Could anyone imagine a man like Patrick remaining in public communion with such men and women of our era?

8. The most High approveth not the gifts of the wicked. He that offereth sacrifice of the goods of the poor is as one that sacrificeth the son in the presence of his father. The riches, he saith, which he hath gathered unjustly will be vomited up from his belly. The angel of death draggeth him away. He will be tormented by the fury of dragons. The viper's tongue shall slay him ; unquenchable fire devoureth him. And therefore, Woe to those who fill themselves with what is not their own. And, What is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?

9. It would be tedious to discuss or declare [their deeds ] one by one, [and] to gather from the whole law testimonies concerning such greed. Avarice is a deadly sin; Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's goods; Thou shalt do no murder; A murderer cannot be with Christ; He that hateth his brother is reckoned as a murderer. And again, He that loveth not his brother abideth in death. How much more guilty is he that hath stained his hands with the blood of the sons of God whom he recently purchased in the ends of the earth through the exhortation of our littleness.

10. Was it without God, or according to the flesh, that I came to Ireland? Who compelled me? I am bound in the Spirit not to see any one of my kinsfolk. Is it from me that springs that godly compassion which I exercise towards that nation who once took me captive, and made havoc of the menservants and maidservants of my father's house? I was freeborn according to the flesh; I am born of a father who was a decurion; but I sold my noble rank—I blush not to state it, nor am I sorry—for the profit of others; in short, I am a slave in Christ to a foreign nation for the unspeakable glory of the eternal life which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

In the above paragraph, Patrick echoes some of the themes of his previous Confessio, mentioning his own origins as a Roman of noble birth, and his subsequent capture by Irish raiders and life of slavery. Thus, he knows first hand the terrors of the captive, and the cruel hardships of the bondsman. 

11. And if my own know me not, a prophet hath no honour in his own country. Perchance we are not of the one fold, nor have one God and Father. As he saith, He that is not with me is against me, and he that gathereth not with me scattereth abroad. It is not meet that one pulleth down and another buildeth up. I seek not mine own. It was not any grace in me, but God that put this earnest that I should be one of the hunters or fishers whom long ago God foreshowed would come in the last days.

12. Men look askance at me. What shall I do, O Lord? I am exceedingly despised. Lo, around me are thy sheep torn to pieces and spoiled, and that too by the robbers aforesaid, by the orders of Coroticus with hostile disposition. Far from the love of God is he who betrays Christians into the hands of the Scots and Picts. Ravening wolves have swallowed up the flock of the Lord which verily in Ireland was growing up excellently with the greatest care. And the sons and daughters of Scottic chieftains who were monks and virgins of Christ I cannot reckon. Wherefore, be not pleased with the wrong done to the just ; even unto hell it shall not please thee.

13. Which of the saints would not shudder to jest and feast with such men? They have filled their houses with the spoil of dead Christians. They live by plunder. Wretched men, they know not that it is poison; they offer the deadly food to their friends and sons; just as Eve did not understand that verily it was death that she handed to her husband. So are all they who do wrong; they work death as their eternal punishment.

14. This is the custom of the Roman Gauls: They send holy and fit men to the Franks and other heathen with many thousands of solidi to redeem baptized captives. Thou rather slayest and sellest them to a foreign nation which knows not God. Thou handest over the members of Christ as it were to a brothel. What manner of hope in God hast thou, or has he who consents with thee, or who holds converse with thee in words of flattery? God will judge ; for it is written, Not only those who commit evil, but those that consent with them shall be damned.

Recall that Roman Gaul was, at this time, in the process of being overrun by the Burgundians, Franks, Visigoths, and numerous other barbarian nations, though Roman power would not be completely broken until the Battle of Soissons in AD 486. One gets a sense in the accounts of Priscus, likely written during Patrick's life, how common it was for Romans to be captured and ransomed by barbarian raiders during this unhappy time.

15. I know not what I should say, or what I should speak further about the departed ones of the sons of God, whom the sword has touched roughly above measure. For it is written, “Weep with them that weep,” and again, “If one member suffer, let all the members suffer with it.” On this account the Church bewails and laments her sons and daughters whom the sword has not as yet slain, but who are banished and carried off to distant lands where sin openly, grievously, and shamelessly abounds. There freemen are put up for sale, Christians are reduced to slavery, and, worst of all, to most degraded, most vile and apostate Picts.

16. Therefore in sadness and grief shall I cry aloud: O most lovely and beloved brethen, and sons whom I begot in Christ—I cannot reckon them—what shall I do for you? I am not worthy to come to the aid of either God or men. The wickedness of the wicked hath prevailed against us. We are become as it were strangers. Perchance they do not believe that we receive one baptism, and that we have one God and Father. It is in their eyes a disgraceful thing that we were born in Ireland. As he saith, Have ye not one God? Why do ye, each one, forsake his neighbour?

17. Therefore, I grieve for you, I grieve, O ye most dear to me. But again, I rejoice within myself. I have not laboured for nought, and my going abroad was not in vain. And there happened a crime so horrid and unspeakable! Thanks be to God, it was as baptized believers that ye departed from the world to Paradise. I can see you. Ye have begun to remove to where there shall be no night nor sorrow nor death any more; but ye shall leap like calves loosened from their bands, and ye shall tread down the wicked, and they shall be ashes under your feet.

18. Ye therefore shall reign with apostles and prophets and martyrs. Ye shall take everlasting kingdoms, as he himself witnesseth, saying, They shall come from the east and west, and shall sit down with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven. Without are dogs and sorcerers and murderers; and liars and false swearers shall have their part in the lake of everlasting fire. Not without just cause the apostle saith, “Where the righteous shall scarcely be saved, where shall the sinner and the ungodly transgressor of the law recognize himself?”

19. Wherefore then, where shall Coroticus with his accursed followers, rebels against Christ, where shall they see themselves?—they who distribute baptized damsels as rewards, and that for the sake of a wretched temporal kingdom, which verily passes away in a moment like a cloud or smoke which is verily dispersed by the wind. So shall the deceitful wicked perish at the presence of the Lord; but let the righteous feast in great constancy with Christ. They shall judge nations, and rule over ungodly kings forever.

It is worth noting that Patrick’s prophecy came true. The temporal power of Coroticus did indeed pass away quickly, and his name is practically lost to history, known mainly to us via the pen of the illustrious man and great saint who condemned his foul deeds. Sic transit gloria mundi.

20. I testify before God and his angels that it will be so, as he has signified to my unskillfulness. The words are not mine, but of God and the apostles and prophets, who have never lied, which I have set forth in Latin. He that believeth shall be saved, but he that believeth not shall be damned. God hath spoken.

21. I beseech very much that whatever servant of God be ready, he be the bearer of this letter, that on no account it be suppressed or concealed by any one, but much rather be read in the presence of all the people, yea, in the presence of Coroticus himself; if so be that God may inspire them to amend their lives to God some time; so that even though late they may repent of their impious doings—murderer of the brethren of the Lord!—-and may liberate the baptized women captives whom they had taken, so that they may deserve to live to God, and be made whole, both here and in eternity.

Peace—to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost. Amen.

NB. Patrick makes liberal use of quotations from Sacred Scripture in this letter. These have been carefully catalogued in the original source. See here. 

"It was a sport and pastime to humble those exalted heads." ~ The Damnatio Memoriae and the relatively commonplace destruction of monuments during the Roman Empire.

The Darkening Age tells only a small part of the story.

If you follow Roman history interest groups on various social media platforms, you are guaranteed to encounter posts bemoaning the supposed destruction of Classical Greco-Roman civilization by Christians. These posts are normally as sensationalistic as they are lacking in any kind of historical context. They nearly always feature shout-outs to journalist Catherine Nixey’s 2017 polemic entitled The Darkening Age: The Christian Destruction of the Classical World. 

The comments following such posts are predictable—semi-literate laments about the vast unknown knowledge lost when Christians [sic] burned the Library at Alexandria; bitter tears for all the wonderful art that was destroyed by barbaric Christian mobs rampaging through the cities of the empire; and of course, angry denunciations of the murder of Hypatia of Alexandria – who has been raised to the secular altars as a proto-martyr of feminist scientism thanks to the propaganda film, Agora. This act is presented as the ultimate evidence of Christianity’s brutal, gritty embrace of wholesale ignorance.

Anyone who reads this blog regularly already knows that the above narrative is false and is fairly easily contradicted by the actual primary sources from antiquity. All that is needed to dispel the above slanders is context. Alexandria was historically a very violent city, and mob violence was perpetrated by every faction of her citizens at one time or another, whether they be pagans, Christians or Jews. Numerous Christians of various stripes were victims of pagan mobs, including George, the Arian bishop of Alexandria, who was beaten to death by a pagan mob in the city. The difference was that the Christian recorders of history deplored such violence and often condemned their co-religionists when they were responsible for it. Julian the Apostate, on the other hand, tended to excuse such excesses when committed by his favored factions, while at the same time coveting George's extensive library. 

If there are instances when Christians burned pagan literature, they did no worse than the pagan emperors who sponsored the wholesale destruction of Christian literature throughout the Empire. And indeed, it appears that the great persecutor of Christians, Diocletian himself, was responsible not only for the burning of Christian books, but for the utter annihilation of works on chemistry (alchemy) in Alexandria. 

Though presenting itself as history, Nixey's book is in reality a litany of carefully curated and manicured factoids. Taken as a whole, it is a naked, partisan attack on Christianity, which cherry-picks evidence in favor of its thesis while ignoring evidence to the contrary. The Acton Institute review by Josh Herring slammed the book, calling it “a love letter for paganism." As Herring further opines: "Nixey condemns Late Antique Christianity for not practicing twenty-first century cultural relativism….Her book does not increase understanding, but instead reveals the difficulty with which a twenty-first century secularist examines a faith-filled past.” The review concludes with the caveat that although The Darkening Age “is sold under the guise of popular history, treat it as an insight into how a secular journalist views Christianity in the year of our Lord 2017.”

An even more damning critique of The Darkening Age may be found on the blog of Roger Pearse, that tireless curator of the hugely useful website, Tertullian.org. In this post, Mr. Pearse provides a helpful translation of a review originally written in German by Prof. Dr. Roland Kany of Ludwig-Maximilians Universität, München that appeared in Frankfurt Allgemeine Zeitung. Prof. Kany concluded his critical review by saying that Nixey’s book lacks “factual competence, a sense of proportion, an effort for appropriate representation and contextualization. Nixey…ignores what does not fit into the junk, putting together true, half-true, and false claims into a construct that is not just one-sided, but an excessive falsehood.”

But rather than simply compile a list of the negative scholarly reviews of this work—and there are many—let's investigate the commonly-heard claim that Christians were somehow unique or excessive in destroying or vandalizing works of art from the Classical period. The cover of The Darkening Age features a statue of the pagan goddess Aphrodite sporting a cross on her forehead (see image at the top of this post). This is one of many statues, we are told, which have been defaced in this way by iconoclastic Christians intent on blotting out the Classical pagan past. In fact, the number of statues defaced in this way is vanishingly small – a tiny percentage of the total number of statues which have survived antiquity. According to Prof. Steven Fine of Yeshiva University, the carving of a cross into the statue may have served to Christianize it, indicating that the subject had been “neutralized” or baptized into Christianity, thus helping to preserve a work that might otherwise have been destroyed. [See Fine: The Menorah and the Cross: Historiographical reflections on a recent discovery from Laodicea on the Lycus, page 36, note 14]

Beyond this, let’s add a some context. Christians in Late Antiquity existed within a culture that had a long history of destroying images of individuals who had fallen into disrepute. Much like modern activists who have taken upon themselves the destruction of all images depicting Christopher Columbus, politicized Romans often had a visceral reaction to the fall of defeated generals, politicians, emperors and members of the imperial family that frequently involved the destruction of statues, the defacing of coins, and the erasure of inscriptions. Furthermore, it sometimes became a matter of imperial policy for newly-elevated emperors to call for the annihilation of all images of their opponents, the melting of imperial coinage bearing the likeness of the disgraced, and even making the utterance of the disgraced person's name a crime worthy of severe punishment. This is known by the more modern term damnatio memoriae, and it was a reasonably common feature of Roman political life. Though the phrase itself was not used in antiquity, damnatio memoriae has come to encompass the variety of censures that a disgraced individual might posthumously suffer.

In an article entitled “Portraits, Plots and Politics: Damnatio Memoriae and the Images of Imperial Women,” Eric R. Varner notes that images of those figures who had been formally condemned usually show the same characteristics. “Intentional defacement…is almost always concentrated on the sensory organs, destroying the eyes, nose, mouth, and sometimes the ears, but leaving the rest of the image intact and still legible.”

Here are just a few examples from the ancient historical sources of how damnatio memoriae was put into practice, both informally and formally, after the fall of a particularly hated person. This list was compiled quickly and is in no way comprehensive. Note well that none of these events described below were religious in nature. All were political:

• After the Battle of Actium, Octavian chased Marcus Antonius and Cleopatra (30 BC) back to Alexandria where they both perished by suicide. Plutarch records that when Antonius died, his monuments and Cleopatra's suffered differing fates: "Antony was fifty-six years of age, according to some, according to others, fifty-three. Now, the statues of Antony were torn down, but those of Cleopatra were left standing, because Archibius, one of her friends, gave Caesar two thousand talents, in order that they might not suffer the same fate as Antony's." [Plutarch, Parallel Lives: Antony, Chapter 86] In his Life of Cicero, Plutarch also records that Antonius received the following censures voted by the Senate at Rome: "It was in his [Cicero's son] consulship that the senate took down the statues of Antony, made void the other honors that had been paid him, and decreed besides that no Antony should have the name of Marcus." [Plutarch, Parallel Lives: Cicero, Chapter 49]. Interestingly, Antony would eventually be rehabilitated by future emperors including his grandson, Claudius, who became emperor in AD 41.

• 

  Bust of Caligula recut to
  resemble his successor,
  Claudius.

  Following the assassination of Gaius Caligula (AD 41) Cassius Dio relates: “Now he was spat upon by those who had been accustomed to do him reverence even when he was absent; and he became a sacrificial victim at the hands of those who were wont to speak and write of him as “Jupiter” and “god.” His statues and his images were dragged from their pedestals, for the people in particular remembered the distress they had endured.” [Cassius Dio, Roman History, Book LIX, Chapter 30]

• 

  Defaced bronze as of Nero. 

  From the Octavia, a play by pseudo-Seneca written shortly after the death of Nero in AD 68, there is the following scene of the Roman populace attacking the statues of Poppaea, the wife of Nero: “This excessive uncontrollable fury springs out of the indignation, to which these nuptials have given rise, and it is that, which is urging them on with headlong rashness, into this display of madness. Whatever statue of Poppaea, sculptured out of the purest marble stood in their way, or whatever brazen monument was shining forth and revealed the likeness of Poppaea, was ruthlessly dashed to the ground by the infuriated hands of the populace, and lies there broken up, by means of hammers wielded by savage arms; they then dragged the pieces of the statues, which had been pulled down from their standing place, trailed them along the streets, with cords, and after kicking them about for some time in an angry fashion, they would plaster them all over with filthy mud! And the swearing, and cursing, that went on, and their obscene language was quite in keeping with their acts, and which was so bad that I should be afraid to repeat it; they are, now preparing to surround, the Palace with flames, unless Nero surrenders this new wife of his…” [Octavia, Act IV]

• 

  Damaged bust of Domitian.

  Pliny the Younger in his Panegyricus to Trajan, describes the destruction of the images of Domitian who was assassinated in AD 96: “Of your [Trajan's] statues therefore we see but one or two, and those of mean brass, placed outside the Capitol, whereas but a little while since, every passage, every ascent, every corner of the Temple was decked, or rather defiled, with cast gold and silver, when the shrines of the gods were debauched with the intermixed statues of an incestuous prince [Domitian]. However, your few brazen ones stand inviolate, and will so remain as long as the Temple itself endures, while theirs of gold and such like precious metals are, all the legions of them, rudely battered down, and made a sacrifice to public joy. It was a sport and pastime to humble those exalted heads, to make them prostrate and kiss the ground, to maul them with hammers, to hew them with hatchets, as if at every stroke blood and pain might follow. None was so moderate in the venting of his raptures, none so sober in his overflowing joys, but that he thought it a luscious piece of revenge to see their mangled limbs, their severed joints, and finally their grim and ghastly images devested of all their borrowed majesty and thrown into the flames to be melted down into better use and service.” [Pliny’s Panegyricus as translated by White Kennett]

• 

  Defaced medallion of Commodus.

  The Roman people vented their rage on the images of Commodus following his assassination and the elevation of Pertinax (AD 193), as per the account of Cassius Dio: “In this way Pertinax was declared emperor and Commodus a public enemy, after both the senate and the populace had joined in shouting many bitter words against the latter. They wanted to drag off his body and tear it from limb to limb, as they did do, in fact, with his statues; but when Pertinax informed them that the corpse had already been interred, they spared his remains, but glutted their rage against him in other ways, calling him all sorts of names. [Cassius Dio, Roman History, Book LXXIV, Chapter 2]

• 

  Roundel showing the family of Septimius
  Severus. Caracalla is at bottom right.
  Geta's face has been erased at bottom left. 

  Cassius Dio further describes Antoninus Caracalla’s vengeance upon his brother Geta’s memory (AD 211), whom he had slain with is own hands: “He exhibited his hatred for his dead brother by abolishing the observance of his birthday, and he vented his anger upon the stones that had supported his statues, and melted down the coinage that displayed his features. And not content with even this, he now more than ever practiced unholy rites, and would force others to share his pollution, by making a kind of annual offering to his brother's Manes.” [Cassius Dio, Roman History, Book LXXVIII, Chapter 12]

• Rome riots when a rumor is spread that the hated emperor Maximinus Thrax (AD 238) had been assassinated on the frontier, according to the historian Herodian: “When these reports became known, the people milled about as if possessed. The fact is that all peoples are eager for a change of government, but the Roman mob, because of its tremendous size and diverse elements, is unusually prone to instability and vacillation. Therefore the statues, paintings, and all of Maximinus' emblems of honor were destroyed, and the hatred which fear had hitherto suppressed now poured forth without hindrance, freely and fearlessly. The senators met before they received accurate information concerning Maximinus and, placing their trust for the future in the present situation, proclaimed Gordian Augustus, together with his son, and destroyed Maximinus' emblems of honor.” [Herodian, History of the Roman Empire, Book VII, Chapter 7]

• 

  Damaged bust of Maximian.

  Lactantius, in his work On the Deaths of the Persecutors, describes how Diocletian (AD 311) lived to see his own statues destroyed: “At this time, by the command of Constantine, the statues of Maximian Herculius were thrown down and the portraits removed. And, as the two old emperors were generally delineated in one piece, the portraits of both were removed at the same time. Thus Diocletian lived to see a disgrace which no former emperor had ever seen and under the double load of vexation of spirit and bodily maladies, he resolved to die.” [Lactantius, On the Deaths of the Persecutors, Chapter XLII]

Put into this context, the vandalism so breathlessly portrayed in The Darkening Age as somehow an unavoidable and unique aspect of ignorant and barbarous Christianity, looks instead like a simple extension of a traditional political behavior of Classical pagan Romans emulated by later Christian Romans who were, by and large, recent converts from paganism themselves.

So much for the facile thesis offered in The Darkening Age, which should not be confused with a serious work of history by anyone.

“Alas! You propose men unfit for the charge of public affairs.” ~ The abdication of Diocletian and his fascinating dialogue with Galerius

A gold solidus of Diocletian (left) and a bronze follis of Galerius (right)

Late Antiquity is full of epoch-making, history-changing events, but up there among the most momentous was the voluntary resignation of Diocletian Jovius and Maximian Herculius from the height of imperial power to private life in AD 305. The announcement of this occurrence must have sent shockwaves throughout the Roman world, particularly considering both men had together celebrated their Vicennalia, or 20th anniversary of their reign, less than two years before. This made them the longest reigning Roman emperors since Antoninus Pius who ruled nearly 150 years previous. And considering how short, miserable, and bloody the reigns of their predecessors of the third century had been, the longevity and relative stability of the joint reigns of Diocletian and Maximian were accomplishments truly worthy of note. 

Why Diocletian chose to abdicate has been a matter of speculation since ancient times. Aurelius Victor, writing in the later 4th century AD, said that Diocletian had received an augury of disasters threatening to disintegrate the Roman state and, as a result, decided to retire while still in good health. Furthermore, he convinced Maximian to likewise step down, but only with the greatest difficulty. Adding his own opinion, Victor dismisses other theories and attributes the abdication to Diocletian’s lack of ambition and excellence of character. [See Bird: De Caesaribus, Chapter 39, page 46]

Similarly, Eutropius writing at about the same time as Victor, praises Diocletian’s decision, saying: 

"He alone of all men, since the foundation of the Roman empire, voluntarily returned from so high a dignity to the condition of private life, and to an equality with the other citizens. That happened to him, therefore, which had happened to no one since men were created, that, though he died in a private condition, he was enrolled among the gods." [Eutropius: Breviarium, Book IX, Chapter 28].

Click for more info.

Having a quite different opinion, however, was an ancient writer who was not only a contemporary of Diocletian and Galerius, but who resided at the court of Diocletian at Nicomedia and was likely an eyewitness to much of what happened at the end of his reign and afterwards: Firmianus Lactantius. Writing in his fascinating work, On the Deaths of the Persecutors, Lactantius gives more than just the brief summaries offered by Aurelius Victor and Eutropius. He provides blow-by-blow details of events, including an extraordinary dialogue between Diocletian and Galerius on who best to choose as their successors. 

Leading up to this dialogue, Lactantius offers a description of the Vicennalia of Diocletian as celebrated at Rome, and the subsequent long illness suffered by that emperor which nearly led to his death in AD 304. Indeed, Lactantius reports that on December 13, AD 304: 

There was heard in the palace sorrow, and weeping, and lamentation, and the courtiers ran to and fro. There was silence throughout the city [Nicomedia], and a report went out of the death and even burial of Diocletian. But early on the morrow, it was suddenly rumored that he still lived. At this the countenance of his domestics and courtiers changed from melancholy to gay. Nevertheless, there were those who suspected his death to be kept secret until the arrival of Galerius Caesar.” [On the Deaths of the Persecutors, Chapter XVII].

It wasn’t until March of AD 305 that Diocletian again appeared in public. Lactantius says that the man who was displayed appeared so thin and haggard that he was hardly recognizable. Furthermore, he reports that Diocletian was never again of sound mind, appearing sometimes sane and sometimes insane.

It was at this point that Galerius arrived in Nicomedia to discuss the future of the empire with the now partially recovered Diocletian. Sensing the old man’s weakness, Galerius suggested that Diocletian and Maximian leave the government of the empire to younger, healthier men. According to Lactantius, Diocletian balked, arguing:

It was unfit for one who had held a rank eminent above all others and conspicuous to sink into the obscurity of a low station. Neither indeed was it safe because in the course of so long a reign, he must unavoidably have made many enemies. [On the Deaths of the Persecutors, Chapter XVIII]

Galerius, however, was tired of playing games. He had reigned as Caesar, or junior emperor, for nearly 15 years and was anxious to obtain the exalted rank of Augustus, or senior emperor, promoting other men to do the dirty work associated with defending the vast frontiers of the Empire. He was ready to enjoy the privileges of pre-eminent power and was not about to take no for an answer. According to Lactantius:

On hearing his discourse, the spiritless old man [Diocletian] burst into tears and said, “Be it as you will.” [On the Deaths of the Persecutors, Chapter XVIII]

And with that, the way became clear for the Caesars, Galerius and Constantius, to be promoted to Augustus while Diocletian and Maximian embarked upon an honorable retirement. Receiving Diocletian’s assent, Galerius now turned the conversation toward which candidates to promote as Caesars. Diocletian had some suggestions and recommended that the advice of Maximian and Constantius be considered. But it turned out that Galerius had already made up his mind. Lactantius records this fascinating conversation as follows:

“But,” said Galerius, “why ask the advice of Maximian and Constantius, since they must needs acquiesce in whatever we do?”

“Certainly they will,” replied Diocletian, “for we must elect their sons.”

Now Maximian Herculius had a son, Maxentius, married to the daughter of Galerius, a man of bad and mischievous dispositions and so proud and stubborn withal, that he would never pay the wonted obeisance either to his father or father-in-law, and on that account he was hated by them both. Constantius also had a son, Constantine, a young man of very great worth and well meriting the high station of Cæsar. The distinguished comeliness of his figure, his strict attention to all military duties, his virtuous demeanor and singular affability, had endeared him to the troops and made him the choice of every individual. He was then at court, having long before been created by Diocletian a tribune of the first order.

“What is to be done?” said Galerius, “for that Maxentius deserves not the office. He who, while yet a private man, has treated me with contumely, how will he act when once he obtains power?”

“But Constantine is amiable, and will so rule as hereafter in the opinion of mankind to surpass the mild virtues of his father.” 

“Be it so, if my inclinations and judgment are to be disregarded. Men ought to be appointed who are at my disposal, who will dread me and never do anything unless by my orders.”

“Whom then shall we appoint?”

“Severus.”

“What! That dancer, that habitual drunkard who turns night into day and day into night?”

“He deserves the office, for he has proved himself a faithful paymaster and purveyor of the army. And, indeed, I have already dispatched him to receive the purple from the hands of Maximian.”

“Well, I consent, but whom else do you suggest?”

“Him,” said Galerius, pointing out Daia, a young man, half-barbarian. Now Galerius had lately bestowed part of his own name on that youth and called him Maximin, in like manner as Diocletian formerly bestowed on Galerius the name of Maximian, for the omen’s sake because Maximian Herculius had served him with unshaken fidelity.

“Who is that you present?”

“A kinsman of mine.”

“Alas!” said Diocletian, heaving a deep sigh, “you propose men unfit for the charge of public affairs!”

“I have tried them.”

“Then do you look to it, who are about to assume the administration of the empire. As for me, while I continued emperor, long and diligent have been my labors in providing for the security of the commonweal and now, should anything disastrous ensue, the blame will not be mine.” [On the Deaths of the Persecutors, Chapter XVIII].

Following this rather contentious discussion, Galerius and Diocletian would go on to make their decision public with a solemn procession and ceremony that Lactantius likely witnessed himself. But that fascinating event and its fallout will be the subjects of a subsequent post.

Of course, many scholars consider this dialogue to be nothing more than a rhetorical reconstruction of what may have passed between Diocletian and Galerius, heavily colored by the author’s own biases—and that certainly may be the case. It should be remembered that when writing On the Deaths of the Persecutors, Lactantius was most likely residing at the court of Constantine in Gaul, some time around AD 316. Therefore, the likelihood is strong that his account reflects the official narrative of events put forth by Constantine’s supporters. It is not out of the question that Lactantius received this information directly from Constantine himself or other high-ranking officials in his circle as he served as the tutor to Constantine's eldest son, Crispus, at this time. 

With that in mind, it should be noted that while Constantine is praised and Maxentius derided in the above dialogue, the words of praise are put into the mouth of Diocletian—one of the primary villains of Lactantius’s narrative. Were Lactantius merely a mouthpiece for Constantinian propaganda and not a subjective but faithful reporter of events as he remembered them, would he have done that? 

Furthermore, the subsequent course of events as recorded in other sources meshes well with Lactantius’s take. Other contemporary historians agree that Severus and Maximin Daia were largely incapable and unworthy of imperial authority. Severus would soon be stripped of his armies and killed by Maxentius in Italy. Daia would live in the shadow of Galerius for a decade only to be defeated and killed by Licinius when the two grappled for supreme power in the East. 

It is also interesting to note Diocletian’s last statement, warning Galerius that his ill-considered decisions would bring on disastrous results and thus washing his hands of them. This theme may have been picked up later by Aurelius Victor who, as noted above, mentions that Diocletian retired because he foresaw catastrophes in store for the empire in the immediate future.

Finally, Diocletian’s concern that he would be vulnerable in retirement proved valid as well. In later chapters, Lactantius would describe how Diocletian’s wife, Prisca, and daughter, Valeria, were persecuted by Maximin Daia, the old man being unable to protect them despite appealing directly to Daia. The now powerless Diocletian would apparently expire a short time later having witnessed the destruction of his monuments and in anxiety that he had aroused the ire of Constantine and Licinius.

See some other posts on Diocletian and Galerius from this blog as follows:

• "They Leveled that Lofty Edifice with the Ground" ~ The Destruction of the Church at Nicomedia and Commencement of the Great Persecution
• The Roman Emperor Who Had Books about “Chemeia” Burned in Alexandria
• "The Oblivion of a Silent Age" ~ The effort of Diocletian and Galerius to wipe out Christian literature during the Great Persecution
• "I condemn Agape and Chionia to be burnt alive." ~ April 3, AD 303

"There is such poverty and destitution in this city" ~ Pope Pelagius I begs for desolate Rome following the Gothic Wars in Italy

A fanciful portrait of Pope Pelagius I based on the roundel portrait in the
Basilica of Saint Paul Outside the Walls, Rome.

In the year of our Lord 556, on April 16, Pelagius I assumed the papal throne in Rome after an interregnum of about 10 months. His advent was not without controversy. His predecessor, Pope Vigilius, had died in Syracuse, Sicily, while on his way back to Rome from a long exile in Constantinople. Vigilius had spent the last ten years of his eighteen year reign as an unwilling captive in the Eastern capital, fighting a vain theological battle with Justinian over the so-called Three Chapters controversy. See this post for some details of Vigilius's reign: "I am receiving the reward for my deeds" ~ The Miserable Reign of Pope Vigilius, AD 537-555.

If Vigilius had inherited an untenable situation when assuming the papacy in AD 537, Pelagius’s situation was only marginally better. When he became Pontiff, the seemingly interminable war in Italy between the Romans and Goths had just drawn to a close. Rome had been taken and lost by both sides several times, leaving the Eternal City desolate, depopulated and in ruins. In fact, during one of these reversions, Pelagius in his role as deacon, had confronted the victorious Gothic king, Totila, as he entered St. Peter's Basilica. The Gothic soldiers, in their wrath, had begun slaying the soldiers and citizens that they found there. To arrest this unfolding slaughter, Pelagius approached Totila with the Sacred Scriptures in his hands, saying, "Spare thine own, O Master."

"Now at last you make yourself suppliant before me," Totila mocked. 

"Yes, at a time when God has made me your slave," Pelagius replied, holding the Sacred Scriptures up before him. "Nay, spare your slaves O Master, from now on."

Procopius records that Totila was pleased with this speech, and though he allowed his men to plunder the Romans of their possessions, he forbade them from killing the people. [Procopius, History of the Wars, Book VII, Chapter 20].

Fortunately, Justinian’s general, Narses, would crush the remaining Gothic armies at the battles of Taginae and Mons Lactarius. Though a tenuous peace would then exist in the war-ravaged peninsula, the entire country had been devastated by nearly two decades of brutal warfare.

As for his theological situation, that too was complicated. Pelagius had at first stood steadfast with Pope Vigilius against the demands of Justinian to condemn the Three Chapters. But when Vigilius later buckled, Pelagius did likewise. This created fierce opposition to Pelagius in Italy, the bishops in that forlorn province viewing their new Pope as little more than a toady for Justinian and his theological novelties.

Worse than this, Pelagius was viewed by some in Italy as having a hand in the death of Pope Vigilius in Sicily. So despite his noble birth and his history of putting his life and treasure on the line for Rome, Pelagius I found himself with very few friends upon attaining the Papacy.

His backstory established, here’s what the Liber Pontificalis, a near contemporary source, has to say about the reign of Pope Pelagius I:

Pelagius, by nationality a Roman, son of John, the vicarius, occupied the see 4 years, 10 months and 18 days. And there was no bishop to ordain him but two bishops were found, John of Perusia and Bonus of Ferentinum, and Andrew, priest of Ostia, and they ordained him pontiff. At that time there was no one among the clergy who could be promoted. The monasteries and the multitude of wise and noble devout withdrew from communion with Pelagius, saying that he had had a part in the death of Pope Vigilius and therefore was punished with such troubles. 

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Then Narses and Pope Pelagius took counsel and when the litany had been said at Saint Pancratius they proceeded with hymns and spiritual songs to Saint Peter, the apostle. And Pelagius, holding the Gospels and the cross of the Lord above his head, mounted the pulpit and thus he satisfied all the people that he had done no harm to Vigilius. Likewise Pope Pelagius continued and said: ''I beg of you to grant my request, that whoever deserves promotion in the holy church and is worthy of it, from a doorkeeper even to a bishop, should accept advancement, though not for gold nor any promises. You all know that that is simony. But whoever is taught in the works of God and leads a good life we bid him, not by bribes but by honest conversation, to rise unto the first rank." 

At that time Pelagius appointed Valentinus, who feared God, as his notary and had all the gold and silver vessels and the vestments restored in all the churches. Then he began to build the basilica of the apostles Philip and James. But when the building was begun he died and was buried in the basilica of blessed Peter, the Apostle, March 2. [Loomis, The Liber Pontificalis, Pelagius, pp. 160-162].

Pelagius I has also left considerable correspondence which has come down to us from antiquity. Unfortunately, most of his letters have never been translated into English. If you can read Latin, you can find the complete corpus available here. For those not so inclined to dive into the Latin, Louise Ropes Loomis provides the following summary of Pelagius I’s epistles which are particularly useful in understanding the dire situation in Italy in the immediate aftermath of the Gothic Wars:

Pelagius' correspondence is full of allusions to the impoverished state of the Roman Church and of directions for collecting the rents and other revenues which had long been unpaid. In one instance he orders that a slave, the son of a slave woman belonging to the church, who was attempting to escape from servitude by calling himself a curial, should be returned to the ecclesiastical estates. He writes to the bishop of Arles, commending to his protection various Romans who had fled from their homes for fear of the enemy and asking that the garments bought with the dues paid by the local church should be sent by ship to Rome, "because there is such poverty and destitution in this city that we cannot look without grief and anguish of heart upon men whom we know to be meritorious and born to honorable position." Jaffe, Regesta, pp. 126-134, 943, 947, 949, 950, 951, 953, 956, 963, 1022, 1023. There is no mention of church  furniture in the letters now extant but Pelagius may probably have tried to replace what had been lost and destroyed.

Such was the situation in Rome that Pelagius was forced to beg for the city. Aside from the clothing requested from Gaul mentioned above, he also begged assistance from Africa in settling refugees. From the papal estates in Italy, he brought provisions into Rome for the relief of starvation. He also carried on a lively correspondence with King Childebert of the Franks and the bishops of Gaul, attempting to defend himself from charges of having compromised the faith while in Constantinople. 

Other of Pelagius's letters encouraged the secular authorities—both the Roman commanders in Italy and the Frankish king—to suppress theological dissenters by force. In a commonly cited letter to Valerianus, a Roman officer in northern Italy, Pelagius says that evil should be punished, and if the Church appears to be acting as a persecutor, it is rather acting as a father who chastises an erring son. See a summary of this letter in Tyrrell, Merovingian Letters and Letter Writers, p. 279. These appeals seem to have gone unheeded. 

Pope Pelagius I should not be confused with the early 5th century heresiarch of the same name.

Like his predecessor Pope Vigilius, Pope Pelagius I is not considered a saint.