Download PDF | Michele Renee Salzman - The Making of a Christian Aristocracy Social and Religious Change in the Western Roman Empire, Harvard University Press 2002.
369 Pages
Preface
Every student of the later Roman empire will, at one time or other, confront the subject of this book: What did it take to make the Roman aristocracy in the later western empire change its ancient religious traditions, turning from paganism to Christianity, in the century of Constantine?
My answer to this question would not have been possible without the work of generations of scholars, whose advances and missteps have challenged and taught me. Although, in the end, dissatisfaction with their solutions and approaches led me to write this book, I have learned much from my predecessors and the frameworks they used. Hence it seems only fitting to outline in brief the approaches and advances that led me to write this book as I did.!
Many scholars in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century studied Christianization by interpreting the experiences of individuals. The classic study of conversion by Arthur Darby Nock is emblematic of this approach. Nock sees the process as “the reorientation of the soul of the individual, his deliberate turning from indifference or from an earlier form of piety to another, a turning which implies a consciousness that a great change is involved, that the old was wrong and the new is right.” Nock emphasized the individual’s decision and the appeal of the message of Christianity to the individual.?
Implicit in the work of many who, following in Nock’s footsteps, study the lives of individual converts is the notion that conversion is a response to a felt need. For a time, scholars were much influenced by the modern concept of cognitive dissonance, a theory that assumes that people who are attracted to a different religion feel in some measure conflict in their present state and gravitate naturally toward a “message” of some sort that soothes that inner turmoil.? This focus on the personal side of conversion fits easily with modern notions of individualism, and it is reinforced by the nature of the extant evidence, for what survives most strikingly are texts by and about the conversions of individuals.*
However, such studies rely on a convert reinterpretation of his own past in terms of his present perspective and goals.» Moreover, the story of any particular individual might be more idiosyncratic than typical. While approaching Christianization through the mindset of the individual aristocrat may tell us much about the way in which that individual wishes to be perceived, this approach will not allow historians to assess the transformation of the aristocracy as a class—which is precisely what is necessary for analyzing a religious change like the Christianization of the Roman aristocracy.
Similar problems arise from an approach that would explain the spread of Christianity on the basis of its ideological or theological message. Some scholars believed that Christianity's doctrine was simply superior; this implicit theological understanding explains why the influential religious scholar Adolf Harnack and his circle used the term “expansion” as a virtual synonym for the “triumph of the gospel message over its environment."6 Thus some historians and theologians isolated aspects of fourth-century Christianity that were notably distinctive and hence, in their view, led to its triumph over paganism. Some have seen its promise of salvation as especially appealing in troubled times." Others have focused on the radical conceptualization of Christian love with its concomitant ideas of mercy and compassion, which developed into a notion of social welfare new to the Roman empire.? Still others have theorized that Christianity offered a new and broader form of community in which all were *equal in Christ," stripping its adherents of ethnicity and other social distinctions.?
Relatively few scholars, however, have attempted to explain the spread of Christianity among the senatorial aristocracy on ideological grounds alone. This may well be the result of a view that aristocrats were among the least likely people to be sympathetic to the ideas of Christianity. Only a handful of scholars have focused on the inherent attraction Christian ideology held for aristocrats, and then mostly in terms of the individual's intellectual growth.!? This motive appears, too, in the work of those who see Christianity as uniquely offering elite women the freedom to pursue the study of biblical texts.
Some idea-based explanations have clearly fallen out of favor. The notion that the doctrine of Christianity is somehow better than all others is at odds with what comparative religionists tell us about the ways that very divergent religious doctrines can satisfy spiritual needs. There is no good way of proving or disproving such claims other than to point to the success of Christianity, a tautology out of which we cannot progress.
In any case, explanations grounded in Christian ideas suffer by presupposing that people act primarily on the basis of belief. Beliefs matter, but to have broader historical impact they need to interact with wider social and political forces and institutions. A strictly theological or idea-based approach cannot answer why some groups of aristocrats found Christianity intellectually and emotionally compelling while others did not, nor why some groups were more likely to convert earlier than others.
Historians of the last fifty years who have emphasized the political and social forces surrounding this change have taken a more fruitful approach. Those examining the political forces involved in the religious transformation of the aristocracy have focused on the role of the emperor.!! Constantine and the pro-Christian policies that he and his successors advanced are viewed as having been the direct cause of the conversion of the aristocracy and the population at large.!? Historians who share this assumption differ on how the emperors Christianized the aristocracy. In the aftermath of World War II some scholars emphasized the conflictual aspects of this process, seeing the struggle between emperor and aristocracy as a power play between two opposing religious camps.P? A generation of scholars in the 1950s and 1960s, perhaps influenced by Cold War politics, emphasized more subtle methods. They focused on the impact of imperial appointments to high office or changes in the duties of certain magistracies as more indirect avenues for affecting religious change.!4
The dominant political interpretive model by and large sees religion spreading from “top to bottom,” with an aristocracy following the religious lead of powerful Christian emperors. Some have diligently examined the number of pagan or Christian appointees by individual emperors as a demonstration of this influence. Since assessing the religiosity of one or another individual can depend on differing analyses of the evidence, this approach has led to differing conclusions. R. von Haehling analyzed imperial appointments in the East and West and found a gradual change, with an emphasis on the reign of Gratian as a pivotal time. But when T. D. Barnes reanalyzed von Haehling's evidence, he came up with different statistics, which he then used to argue that the Christianization of the aristocracy was fast and generally noncontroversial, reflecting a rapid adjustment of aristocratic behavior to fit imperial policy.
I do not reject the notion that emperors had an impact, yet emperors had to work against an entrenched and considerably autonomous aristocratic culture. Hence imperial influence was more diffuse and, as this study will show, the conversion of its aristocracy slower than Barnes and certain scholars have argued. The fourth-century Christian emperors who developed Constantine’s initial policies are of importance in this process. Indeed, considering only imperial appointments provides too limited a gauge of late Roman political life. Politics also worked outside of the formal channels of appointment, through the building of patronage obligations, friendships, family ties, and the like.
Recognition of the numerous avenues of late antique politics has led some to widen their study of imperial influence. John Matthews showed the importance not only of the emperor but of the imperial court and its courtiers in setting policy after 364.16 Others have traced the imperial laws that privileged Christians (particularly bishops) and penalized pagans or the role of emperor as patron.!7
Yet such political analyses have not gone far enough, for Christianization is still construed essentially in terms of the emperor's influence on the aristocracy. The late Roman political world was more complicated and less centrifugal than this top-down interpretive model suggests. There were other sources of political power and influence than that of the emperor. The imperial court, the church, the collegia, the senate, the military, and the provincial elites all exercised power and influence. Individual aristocrats had ties to one or other of these political groups. Even emperors desired to maintain their ties with the aristocracy. Thus, to comprehend the political dimension of religious change, we need a deep understanding of the aristocrats who faced these political forces in their daily lives.
But to understand the aristocracy in their daily lives we need to analyze the social and cultural world in which they lived. Some historians have moved in that direction, notably A. H. M. Jones and Peter Brown, who saw Christianity as spreading horizontally, largely as the result of interactions among aristocrats or due to changes within the aristocracy itself. Jones emphasized the changing composition of the aristocracy, seeing in the social mobility of new men a primary force for change, religious and social.!$
Subsequent scholars have modified Jones' observations on specific aspects of compositional and institutional changes within the senatorial aristocracy, but neither Jones nor his successors have demonstrated their precise influence on Christianization. The idea that compositional changes, like the rise of new men, encouraged Christianization remains more an assertion than an established fact.
Other scholars have highlighted the spread of religion through friendship and kinship networks. Peter Brown's work has been most influential in this regard.!? Following Brown, some have studied the role of kinship and friendship ties on the religious affiliations of one or another aristocratic family.2° Others, also influenced by Brown, have emphasized the important role played by aristocratic women in conversion.?!
These studies have advanced our appreciation of the social and cultural influences important in religious change, but they represent only the beginning of a synthetic understanding. Most of the empirical studies have focused on a small number of families. The difficulties involved in unraveling family ties and religious affiliations make studies of selected families understandable. But such studies can also be misleading if they are centered on atypical families. Nor have such studies considered the full range of social and cultural influences at play in the Christianization of the aristocracy. Many sorts of social considerations—such as bonds between aristocrats involved in similar career paths or between aristocrats from the same geographical area—may also be important for conversion.
No study has yet taken what seems to me the most fruitful approach, that is, to place the senatorial aristocracy at the center of analysis. Only by looking at religious change from the perspective of the senatorial aristocracy, its style of life and values, can we hope to understand how the Roman aristocracy became Christian in the fourth century. Hence I will focus on the culture and institutions of the aristocracy and the key differences among aristocrats.
My debt to the community of scholars extends beyond those noted above. I want to thank those who have been my constant interlocutors and who have so willingly read and critiqued my work. Emily Albu, Alan Cameron, Hal Drake, Susanna Elm, Hugh Elton, Judith Evans-Grubbs, Sandra Joshel, Michael Maas, John Matthews, Claudia Rapp, Teresa Shaw, Karen Torjesen, and Dennis Trout have read the manuscript, in part or whole, at various stages of its development. My debt to them for their time, criticism, and encouragement is great and heartfelt. Works by Peter Brown, Elizabeth Clark, and John Matthews were constant companions, and they have each, in their ways, been special sources of inspiration for me. I also want to thank the two anonymous reviewers for the Press for their incisive and intelligent comments on the manuscript. The book is better for their contributions.
This study would not have been possible without the resources of several research institutions and granting bodies. I want to thank the American Academy in Rome for granting me a Mellon Fellowship in the Humanities that allowed me the time to pursue my research and gave unlimited access to its library. Research grants from Boston University and the University of California, Riverside have enabled me to continue that work. I owe the Inter-Library Loan Department at UC Riverside a special thanks for their help. I wish to thank, too, the research assistants who have helped me in the preparation of the manuscript and in tracking down sources: Debbie Ahlberg, Daniel Christensen, and Tim Watson have been resourceful and diligent aids in this process. Rebecca Li’s statistical assistance has been invaluable; her calm manner eased my distress at the numerous computerrelated problems that arose. I want to thank, in particular, the editorial staff at Harvard University Press, led by Peg Fulton, for their help in preparing the manuscript for publication.
My deepest debt goes to my family. My husband, Steven Brint, has been my best supporter and loving companion through the genesis and growth of this book. He has had the patience and willingness to make the world of statistics comprehensible to me, no easy task. He has been willing to listen to my ideas and critique them, orally and in writing, as I worked through the many problems and drafts of the manuscript. I thank him for his wit and loving patience, traits exhibited too by my two children, Juliana and Ben, who have put up with my many hours at my desk. Their pride in my accomplishments has taught me much about the generosity of the human spirit.
In the end I take responsibility for this book—both its advances and its missteps. It is the product of many years of thought and research on a question that, I confess, I still find fascinating. The possibility of such large-scale social and religious change as the Christianization of the Roman aristocracy and the drama of dying and rising religions are still meaningful to me, for in many ways we live with the consequences of those events. I hope others will find these processes as compelling as I have in writing this book.
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