Download PDF | (New Approaches to Byzantine History and Culture) Stanislav Doležal - The Reign of Constantine, 306–337_ Continuity and Change in the Late Roman Empire-Palgrave Macmillan (2022).
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Introduction
Despite its title, this book not only covers the political history of the Roman Empire in the first third of the fourth century, but also describes the entire previous century in order to make Constantine’s career easier to grasp by placing it in a broader historical context. Apart from Constantine, therefore, other important figures of the era—Gallienus, Aurelian, and Diocletian among them—are discussed. Although these emperors are separated by decades (by the time Constantine was born, Gallienus was dead, the reigning emperor was Aurelian, and Diocletian was serving in Aurelian’s army), the connections between them are clear enough: Constantine would never have become “Great” if Diocletian had not given his father Constantius the chance to become a member of the tetrarchy; Diocletian himself could hardly have conceived of a division of power in an empire that would be politically divided into three pieces; Aurelian would never have been able to consolidate the empire if he had not commanded the “new model army” created by Gallienus; and Gallienus espoused the reforms of Septimius Severus, whose reign started back in 193. We all stand on the shoulders of someone else, and when we discuss Constantine, we should consider not only his father and mother, but also the emperors of the third century.
It would be near impossible to fully understand the tetrarchic period and the Constantinian dynasty without a detailed knowledge of the several decades’ worth of war, chaos, and social changes that preceded it. And just as the lessons of the tetrarchy are necessary to understand the time of Constantine, so a summary of third-century political events provides a natural introduction to the time of the tetrarchy.! Furthermore, all these stages are intertwined, and in this book they are perceived as a single coherent whole that avoids accentuating any milestones; not even the year 284, usually considered to be the beginning of the Late Roman Empire.”
And yet, out of deference to the practice for history books to be broken down into chapters, certain dividing lines did have to be established. This was an easy task in Chapters 5-11: they simply cover successive periods of Constantine’s life. With Chapter 1 describing the literary sources used in my work and Chapter 4 dealing with the first tetrarchy (293-305), Chapter 3 is best placed to serve as a historical introduction to the period of the tetrarchy. By reaching back precisely a hundred years into the past to the dawn of the tetrarchy, we witness the end of the relatively peaceful times of the Antonine dynasty and the beginning of Septimius Severus’ reign (193). These hundred years, with a particular emphasis on the empire’s period of crisis (approximately 250-290), seem to be the most suitable lead-in to the times of Constantine.
In a sense, this book is dedicated to the “Illyrian Emperors”, i.e. those emperors who were born in the Western Balkans and saved, stabilised, and reformed the empire. This line begins with Claudius II (268270) and then moves on to Quintillus (270), Aurelian (270-275), and Probus (276-282).° After a brief interruption by the reigns of Carus and his two sons (282-284), whose birthplace we do not know, the Illyrians continued their run with Diocletian (284-305) and three of his colleagues: Maximian (285-305), Constantius (293-306), and Galerius (293-311). A 4th-century historian said of them: “Illyricum was actually the native land of all of them: so although they were deficient in culture, they had nevertheless been sufficiently schooled by the hardships of the countryside and of military service to be the best men for the state”.*
This is not the end of the Illyrian Emperors: Severus (305-307), Maximinus Daia (305-313), Licinius (308-324), and Constantine himself (306-337) can also be counted among them.° Apart from Constantine, these twelve emperors created no dynasties, and in most cases they were not even related. Nevertheless, their dominance of the period described in this book means they merit detailed attention. They had much in common: the geographical area in which they were born, and their (mostly) low birth, paucity, or entire absence of education, considerable military experience, and similar approach to problem-solving. One of the aims of this book is to point up how Constantine belonged to this group. Constantine was an excellent general, as was to be expected of an Illyrian Emperor, but on top of that he also was a brilliant politician. As a military leader, he routinely defeated the barbarians, be they Franks, Alamanni, Sarmatians, or Goths, and he emerged victorious from every civil war he took part in. As a politician, he managed to survive the difficult first six years of his reign (306-312), during which he proved to be patient, cautious, and astute, and succeeded in avoiding any damage to his career from the collapse of the third and fourth tetrarchies (see Chapter 4). Even if the tetrarchy is viewed as an experiment that failed (or that was bound to fail), Constantine is still someone who was in no small way responsible for the dissolution of this interesting system of government.
He could even be said to have built his political career on the ruins of the tetrarchy, constantly trying to gain more political benefit for himself and for his nascent dynasty. From 312, he was the undisputed master of the West, and from 324 he ruled the whole empire. The only way to explain his remarkable achievements is that he had an extraordinary flair for war and politics. But that is not the whole story; Constantine was successful in many other areas as well. He carried on many of Diocletian’s reforms and continued to reform the empire’s administrative, military, monetary, and fiscal systems. His founding of a dynasty and of the city of Constantinople, and above all his adherence to Christianity, presaged the completely new direction that the empire would take. This book stops short of those developments, however, by ending shortly after Constantine’s death (save for a brief epilogue about the Constantinian dynasty).
There is one glaring problem in any assessment of Constantine’s personality, accomplishments, and significance. He is generally defined and viewed through his religious policy, which, it seems, not only separates him from his predecessors but completely overshadows everything else. Whereas Diocletian and some of the other tetrarchs persecuted the Christians, Constantine not only became Christian, but also, in the second half of his reign, acted as if he were one of the bishops. And yet, Christianity aside, Constantine was in many ways a typical Illyrian Emperor who had much in common with the other emperors mentioned above. A perfect example of a supposed counterpart of Constantine would be Aurelian. Constantine himself denounced Aurelian for his alleged persecution of Christians,° but if we compare their approaches to ruling the empire, we find that they tried to deal with similar problems with similar solutions and resembled each other probably more than Constantine would have been willing to admit. Not only were they born in the same area, but both succeeded in politically unifying the Empire, tried to reform the coinage, and preferred a single particular god. Furthermore, they defeated both external and internal enemies in vigorous military campaigns, and mercilessly suppressed all resistance to their rule (not to mention that both would later be rumoured to be cruel and greedy).”
Because of his adherence to Christianity, Constantine has proved a battlefield of historical interpretations for more than 150 years. In the middle of the nineteenth century, the great Swiss historian Jacob Burckhardt viewed Constantine as essentially a completely non-religious man (“ganz wesentlich unreligiés”), driven only by his desire for power.® Since then, many scholars, frequently motivated by their own religious beliefs, have expressed opinions on this issue.? This debate is, I believe, largely irrelevant. There is no reason to question the sincerity of Constantine’s conversion to Christianity or the genuineness of his faith: Constantine was undoubtedly a Christian. But he also was a soldier and a politician, and many of his political decisions were “religiously neutral”, i.e. it was irrelevant whether, in making them, he was a pagan or Christian.!? In addition, as the pontifex maximus, he was responsible for all the cults of the Roman Empire, which was still predominantly pagan. Besides, the Christian faith, as Constantine himself persuasively showed by his own actions, is fully compatible with political assassinations, wars, massacres, cruelty, ruthlessness, and an insatiable desire for ever more power.!!
As this book is largely about politics, the legitimacy of the emperors ruling during the period it covers and of Constantine’s rise to imperial power is an important political issue. Many of the emperors ruling in the third century acquired imperial power by simply usurping it; any precise figure would be open to debate, but it was roughly half the total. Usurpation typically involved a general in a province persuading his troops, usually with the lure of money and promises, to elevate him to imperial power (for many such cases, see Chapter 3). If the usurper subsequently took control of Rome and the whole empire, won the backing of the senate, and eliminated his potential rivals, he became a legitimate emperor. This course of action became the norm after the year 193 and was prevalent until the time of the tetrarchy. After 293, however, it was virtually impossible for a usurper to gain legitimacy when he was up against four legitimate emperors. He could not realistically hope to contribute to the ruling of the empire in a situation where it was unthinkable for there to be more than exactly four legitimate emperors. When the tetrarchy began to collapse, not least because of the usurpations by Constantine and Maxentius in 306, the college of emperors—or at least its senior emperor—could rule that a usurper had gained legitimacy provided that the resulting number of emperors remained at four. Chapter 6 analyses how Constantine began as a usurper; the next chapters trace his career further and examine how he became a tetrarch, then one of only three legitimate emperors, then one of just two, and finally the sole ruler.
If we were to group usurpers by how successful they were, the ones who failed are particularly rife. Chapter 3 contains many obscure names of usurpers who never achieved legitimacy or never ruled any area of the empire for long. Then there were partially successful usurpers who ruled a part of the empire for an extended period but never gained legitimacy (Carausius, for example, created an empire in Britain that lasted several years). Successful usurpers may have ruled the entire empire fleetingly (e.g. Macrinus, emperor for a single year) or for many years (e.g. Septimius Severus reigned for 17 years). Constantine was one of the most successful usurpers in the history of the Roman Empire because he not only ruled for 30 years himself, but he also founded a dynasty that spanned 57 years and had a profound impact on the history of the empire. Nevertheless, the beginnings of Constantine’s career were difficult, and his path to power in the West in 306-312 might even be described as a search for a source of alternative legitimacy (see Chapters 6 and 7).
In their political struggles, the cast of this story, including Constantine, availed themselves of whatever political weapons were at their disposal. Aside from the obvious benefits of propaganda, attested on coins, inscriptions, and in many literary works (especially panegyrics), there was also the consecratio, or deification, of an emperor and its exact opposite: damnatio memoriae, or condemnation.!* The senate was responsible for carrying out these acts, but they were, of course, ordered by the succeeding emperor.!? Deification came into play when the new emperor wanted to bolster his legitimacy by emphasising continuity with the reign of his predecessor. This honour could, however, be taken back after some time. Although deification was inherently pagan, even the Christian Constantine was consecrated after his death, and this practice lasted until the fifth century (and in the Eastern Empire until as late as the sixth century).!4
Damnatio memoriae was employed whenever the new emperor wanted to distance himself from the previous ruler in order to boost his own claim to rule. It involved the removal or attempted removal of all mentions of the hapless former emperor from public inscriptions; not only that, but his statues were overthrown and images destroyed. However, this practice was not carried out thoroughly, and the condemned emperor did not disappear from the world altogether. As with deification, damnatio could be repealed over time, paving the way for rehabilitation and perhaps redeification. This was the case, for example, of the emperor Maximian, who revolted against his son-in-law Constantine in 310 and faced condemnation. Later, however, he was rehabilitated by Constantine (clearly for political reasons) and commemorated on Constantine’s coins as the “divine Maximian” (see Chapter 7). The case of another of Constantine’s relatives, his own son Crispus, who suffered damnatio memoriae in 326 and was never rehabilitated, seems to be a complete mystery (which I try to solve in Chapter 9).
The way emperors had themselves represented was another important element of politics in the late empire. Of course, emperors exploited self-representation for propaganda, an art mastered by Constantine. He can even be said to have had his own propaganda machine, consisting primarily of literary works propagandistic in their nature that were written during his own lifetime, such as the Panegyrici Latini (five of which were written for Constantine in the years 307-321), Lactantius’ De mortibus persecutorum, Eusebius’ Historia ecclesiastica, Vita Constantini and Laus Constantin, the poems of Publilius Optatianus Porfyrius, the extant fragment of Praxagoras’ history, and the Origo Constantini imperatoris (the date of composition of which is, admittedly, unknown). Certain later authors—such as Aurelius Victor, Socrates Scholasticus, Sozomenus, the Epitome de Caesaribus, and Jerome—were influenced by Constantine’s propaganda to varying degrees and should therefore be included as well.
This propaganda machine was obviously not built to tell the truth. Constantine, an astute politician, utilised any political tool available to him to his advantage, particularly during the first half of his reign, when he was fighting for his survival. These tools included half-truths, baseless assertions, and outright lies. Timothy D. Barnes listed some of these political lies, which he called “official lies” (e.g. fabrications designed to strengthen Constantine’s political position), but omitted or neglected other instances where Constantine or his propaganda machine demonstrably fashioned lies or deceptions. Here are some of Constantine’s “official lies” as listed by Barnes: 1. Barnes remarks that some scholars “found it hard to believe that Constantine lied about his age”.!° And yet the emperor clearly did lie on this subject, or at least condoned a lie about his age that was spread by contemporary sources that were close to him. Some of our sources clearly state that Constantine was born in around 272. Other sources assert that Constantine was young in 306 (or even at a later point), implying a later year of birth, about 280.!° Why? Barnes rightly concluded that Constantine’s disingenuous claim that he was a mere boy during the Great Persecution of the Christians served to dissociate him from it. Barnes was certain that Constantine was born on 27 February 273, and the majority of modern scholars accept either this year or 272.!” Still, the discrepancy in our sources has misled some scholars into asserting that Constantine was born in 280s.!®
The confusion may have been exacerbated by Constantine’s shifting public image. One scholar even remarked that “no other emperor changed his public image as drastically or as often, and none was more resourceful in manipulating his portrait for propagandistic effect”.!? A good example is Constantine’s portrait in the Boar Hunt medallion on the Arch of Constantine in Rome, which was unveiled to the public on the occasion of Constantine’s decennalia in 315. Although the emperor was most likely 43 years old at this time, his face is surprisingly youthful—we see an emperor in his twenties.
2. Another of Constantine’s propagandistic fabrications, as seen by Barnes,”° is a story reported by Lactantius and the Origo Constantint imperatoris that Galerius tried several times to get Constantine killed (see Chapter 6). This story cannot be true, at least from a chronological point of view: both Lactantius and the Ovigo date these attempts to the time just after the abdication of Diocletian and Maximian. But Constantine must have left the court of Galerius either in May 305 or soon after, as he joined Constantius in Britain for the campaign against the Picts in that year.2! Nor can it be true that, when Constantine finally arrived there, his father was already dying.?? Moreover, our sources paint a very false, albeit highly dramatic, picture of Constantine’s journey (indeed, escape) from the court of Galerius to Britain. But there was no need for Constantine either to hurry or to be afraid in May 305. The truth is that 1 May 305 changed everything: Constantius became the senior augustus of the “second tetrarchy”, and his son suddenly ceased to be a hostage at the court of Diocletian in Nicomedia and became a guest at the court of Galerius. Obviously, he would now have been free to travel to the West whenever he wished, and there was nothing Galerius could do to stop him. Galerius would have perhaps been surprised to hear about the alleged perils Constantine faced at his court and on the journey to Britain. What we have here is just Constantinian propaganda at work.
3. According to Barnes, another deliberate political lie concocted by Constantine or his propaganda machine was the story of Maximian’s death. Constantine’s father-in-law rebelled against Constantine in 310 and was quickly arrested and either executed or forced to commit suicide; he also suffered damnatio memoriae. A later story, however, told by Lactantius in about 315, asserted that Maximian was first pardoned, then tried to assassinate Constantine, and was ultimately forced to hang himself.?? Barnes’ plausible explanation for this embellishment of the story was that Constantine’s attitude towards Maxentius kept changing (see (4) below).?4 In 317 or 318, Constantine disingenuously rehabilitated Maximian’s memory and had him consecrated (divus Maximianus optimus imperator).?°
4. According to Barnes, Constantinian propaganda depicted Maxentius as a tyrant. This is true. Barnes considered the underlying conflicting religious policies of these two emperors to be the primary cause of this move?°; while this explanation is possible, political reasons are much more believable. Constantine and Maxentius were allies for the better part of a year: from summer or autumn 307, when Constantine married Fausta (the sister of Maxentius), to spring 308, when this fragile alliance ended (with Maximian trying to dislodge his son and being forced to take refuge at Constantine’s court in Gaul). After the conference at Carnuntum in autumn 308, Constantine gained legitimacy from Galerius and, probably soon afterwards, allied himself with the new Western augustus Licinius, who was charged with invading Italy against Maxentius. After Maximian’s unsuccessful coup, Maxentius consecrated his late father and accused Constantine of killing him. As mentioned above, Constantine’s propaganda responded in kind, saying that Maximian, although pardoned, attempted to assassinate Constantine in his sleep.
5. Barnes asserted that a few sources conflated two wars between Constantine and Licinius (in 316/317 and 323/324) into one, while other sources correctly distinguish between these conflicts.7” There was nothing, however, that Constantine could possibly gain from such a distortion of facts, and therefore, this confusion can hardly be a product of Constantine’s propaganda.
6. Finally, Barnes remarked that Constantine’s eldest son Crispus was executed in 326 and, as he also suffered damnatio memoriae, ceased to exist for the world thereafter. Strictly speaking, this is not an instance of political lies, but rather their conspicuous absence. Our sources offer insufficient facts for a reconstruction of Crispus’ life, much less for an explanation of his death (see Chapter 9). The story of Crispus was so heavily purged by Constantinian propaganda that today it is extremely difficult to fathom the true reasons for his elimination.?° Instead of lies, which perh: Id have b perhaps would have been too dangerous, Constantinian propaganda resorted to silence.
So far so good; but, as indicated above, there are still other instances of Constantinian propaganda that need to be examined and perhaps also called “official lies”. For example, when Constantine had his former colleague Licinius executed in the spring 325, he could not produce any better grounds for this action than that Licinius had conspired with some barbarians to plot against him. Considering that Licinius was being kept under house arrest at Thessalonica, where he was undoubtedly closely guarded, this is not a plausible explanation at all (see Chapter 8).
Another illustration of Constantine’s propaganda at work is the distorted narrative of his accession on 25 July 306. Some sources assert that the dying emperor Constantius I appointed his son as his successor and that Constantine accepted his promotion almost reluctantly. Other sources state that after the death of his father, Constantine staged a military coup and claimed the imperial title for himself (see Chapter 6). Whatever happened on that day, this episode proved inconsequential because Galerius quickly approved Constantine’s elevation, albeit only to the rank of caesar. There were now two augusti (Galerius and Severus) and two caesares (Maximinus and Constantine) in the empire, and thus the “third tetrarchy” was formed. These two distinct narratives continue to be disputed. While the majority of scholars agree that what happened on 25 July 306 constituted the usurpation of imperial power, other scholars, Timothy Barnes in particular, believe that Constantine had been “long groomed for the throne” under the first tetrarchy, and therefore that his accession in 306 was legal and just.2? Barnes was mistaken; Constantine was a typical Roman usurper.°°
Another of Constantine’s political lies is what Barnes only briefly conceded to be a false statement, namely that in 310 the emperor falsified his ancestry.*! Constantine’s forged family connection to the emperor Claudius Gothicus was another political tool designed to strengthen and solidify his position, which had recently been shaken by his father-inlaw’s usurpation (for details, see Appendix A). This invention can (and should) be linked to another questionable assertion by Constantine in the year 310: his “pagan vision” of Apollo, and ultimately his more famous “Christian vision”, although this last one appears to come from much later (for both, see Appendix D).*?
To sum up, Constantine: lied about the circumstances of his accession to power (in an effort to mask his usurpation); lied about his ancestry; probably lied about his “pagan vision” in 310; lied about the circumstances of Maximian’s death; painted an unfavourable picture of Maxentius (although, strictly speaking, this is not a political lie); lied about his age; lied about his position at the court of Galerius and his journey to Britain; may have caused confusion regarding the two wars between Constantine and Licinius (again, this cannot be called a political lie); lied about the reasons for Licinius’ execution in 325; and tried to destroy the public memory of his eldest son Crispus after 326 (of course, this is not a political lie per se, only by consequent implication). Overall, the score of Constantine’s truthfulness is low by any standards. When it comes to honesty and integrity, Constantine was not that Great after all; given the opportunity, he never shied away from political lies of any kind. Some of them perhaps may be justified by grave dangers that Constantine faced at the beginning of his political career, but others were devised simply to strengthen Constantine’s political position.
Constantine seems to exhibit the same amorality in the political murdering of his opponents, some of whom were his own relatives. Several of these killings appear to have been necessary: both his father-inlaw Maximian and his sister Constantia’s husband, the emperor Licinius, had to be eliminated. On the other hand, the murder of the latter’s young son, the caesar Licinius, was hardly justifiable; and the executions of his sister Anastasia’s husband Bassianus, his own son Crispus, and the disappearance (possibly execution) of his wife Fausta, although we are not provided details of their fate, show a Constantine as ruthless as he was resourceful in influencing public opinion and clearing his path to power.
In its thematic range and selection of individual aspects of the history of Constantine’s reign, this book is principally a biography (if a biography of this emperor can be written at all), as well as an account of the political history of the Roman Empire in the years 306-337. Coming up with an appropriate title was a struggle, and I regret that my end choice reflects only the core of the book’s contents. The intention was to follow the political history of the Roman Empire in 193-337, study the period of the tetrarchy in particular detail, and focus most attention on the years 306-324.
Besides Constantine’s political career and his private struggle for power, several related topics are discussed at length: Constantine’s military operations, the development of the Roman army in Constantine’s time, the changing administration of the Empire (especially the praetorian prefecture), the structure of the imperial court, currency reform (more specifically, the multiple reforms and their consequences), and Constantine’s attitude towards Christianity. However, it should be emphasised that this is definitely not a book about religion. Many other topics could only be touched on briefly or were left out completely, such as the development of cities (except for the foundation of Constantinople), city councils, taxation, and the legal system. All in all, this is no comprehensive scholarly work on the Later Roman Empire.*?
It goes without saying that this book, much like virtually every book on Constantine, is not merely a retelling of the known facts of his life, as that would inevitably leave the narration very sketchy and full of big holes: there are many things we simply do not know, and therefore cannot properly describe or explain. The sources are lacking in certain important information (e.g. we know nothing of Constantine’s childhood), and we must bear in mind that information (such as the execution of Crispus) could have been, and was, deliberately suppressed—in both cases, extreme caution needs to be exercised. Conditions are even worse when our sources, with or without a clear intention or agenda, leave us with vague or conflicting information (e.g. Constantine’s position at the courts of Diocletian and Galerius). Such cases always need to be treated very carefully: if we follow only one possible explanation to the complete exclusion of all others, we deliberately mislead the reader (and ourselves), and are probably wrong anyway.
In that respect, this book seeks to be honest and consistently avoids presenting mere conjecture and assumption as fact. There are numerous controversial cases where the most we can honestly do is analyse all available information, add the hypotheses put forward by leading “Constantinian” scholars, perhaps offer an opinion of our own, and leave the matter unresolved. Sometimes the story must remain incomplete. Within the indicated time frame of 306-337, the emphasis is put on what I call the “neuralgic points” of Constantine’s history, that is, events that remain controversial in their interpretation (such as the circumstances of Constantine’s accession to power). An inevitable consequence of this is that the book teems with hypotheses, mostly raised by respectable “Constantinian” scholars, with a few added by myself.
Of these “Constantinian” scholars, Timothy Barnes is undoubtedly the leading figure. Three of his books are often cited: Constantine and Eusebius, The New Empire of Diocletian and Constantine and Constantine. Dynasty, Religion, and Power in the Later Roman Empire. Besides Barnes, the leading group of “Constantinian” scholars would include David Potter, Noel Lenski, Hans Pohlsander, Charles Matson Odahl, and Harold Allen Drake. At the very least, these authors are impossible to ignore in any serious study of Constantine and his age. Comparing the approach of these authors—literally their Constantines—is fascinating in itself. However, virtually any major treatise on Constantine (and in this sense, every Constantine) is worth our attention and can be a source of inspiration.** I am fully aware of the limitations of my book and can only hope that it will appeal to readers of Roman history, despite all its flaws and its own Constantine.
Information in the most inspirational scholarly literature is usually followed by a description of the primary sources. However, I thought it best to write a separate chapter dedicated to this. As noted above, several important sources of Constantine’s lifetime are perhaps vehicles for his propaganda, which then heavily influenced some sources further down the line. Few were truly independent (and, in some cases, hostile to Constantine). While it is essential to make use of every piece of information in all cases, we also need to proceed with the utmost caution. It is equally essential that we try to understand our ancient authorities and their intentions. In the following chapter, the reader will find a detailed description of all the Greek and Latin sources used in the writing of this book.
I wish to thank numerous scholars and colleagues for their efforts in guiding and helping me. Particularly valuable was the assistance of Walter Goffart (University of Toronto Emeritus), Charles Matson Odahl (Boise State University), and Mark Hebblewhite (Macquarie University). I received useful guidance on various subjects from Bruno Bleckmann (Heinrich Heine University Diisseldorf), Antony Kropff (Leiden University), Noel Lenski (Yale University), David Potter (University of Michigan), and Warren Treadgold (Saint Louis University). Furthermore, some of my Czech colleagues were generous enough to read the first drafts of the Czech edition and brought attention to mistakes or weak points in argumentation. They include Vaclav Marek and Ivan Prchlik (Charles University), Bohumil Jirousek, Miroslav Novotny, Ladislav Nagy, and Katerina Selner (University of South Bohemia), and Jarmila Bednarikova (Masaryk University).
Of course, this book could not have been made available to Western readers without the professional and meticulous work of my translator, Stuart Hoskins. And I am especially indebted to Florin Curta (University of Florida), without whom this English edition would never have seen the light of day.
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