The Ecclesiastical History of Theodoret

Abstract

Probably scholars would never know of either Socrates or Sozomen had it not been for their histories. Theodoret of Cyrrhus was, in contrast, a prominent figure in his day. Like Eusebius of Caesarea, Theodoret was both a bishop and a prolific writer. The theological controversies regarding Christ’s humanity formed a backdrop to Theodoret’s many polemical, exegetical, and biographical works, including his Religious History, a collection of hagiographies of Syrian monks, and his Ecclesiastical History.

1 Theodoret of Cyrrhus (c.393–c.460)

Probably scholars would never know of either Socrates or Sozomen had it not been for their histories. Theodoret of Cyrrhus was, in contrast, a prominent figure in his day.¹ Like Eusebius of Caesarea, Theodoret was both a bishop and a prolific writer. The theological controversies regarding Christ’s humanity formed a backdrop to Theodoret’s many polemical, exegetical, and biographical works, including his Religious History, a collection of hagiographies of Syrian monks, and his Ecclesiastical History.

The pressing religious disputes of his era had a direct influence on the life of Theodoret. A native of the region of Antioch, he was sympathetic to the emphasis placed upon the human nature of Jesus Christ in the teachings of Theodore of Mopsuestia (c. 350–428) and Diodorus of Tarsus (d. c. 390). When Nestorius (c. 386–c. 451), a fellow admirer of Theodore’s teachings and the patriarch of Constantinople, became embroiled in a dispute with Cyril of Alexandria (c. 376–444), Theodoret remained a stalwart defender of Nestorius’ good name. In Theodoret’s mind, Nestorius was protecting the humanity of Jesus Christ even as Cyril’s seemingly exclusive emphasis upon Christ’s divinity threatened to diminish or negate it. Even when Theodoret condemned the teachings associated with Nestorius in the wake of the Council of Ephesus in 431, he was careful to distinguish between the heretical notions condemned and the actual figure of Nestorius. Unfortunately for the bishop of Cyrrhus, this was not the end of the debate. Eutyches (c. 380–c. 456), a monk from the region of Constantinople, gained the ear of Theodosius II and promoted his own belief that Christ possessed a single nature that was both human and divine.² In 449 a pro-Eutychean council gathered at Ephesus and promoted this Monophysite theology. This so-called Robber Council of Ephesus refused to admit Theodoret into their ranks and deposed him from his see of Cyrrhus. Theodoret most likely composed his Ecclesiastical History after his deposition, which lasted from 449 until his rehabilitation at the Council of Chalcedon in 451.³

Though Theodoret’s Ecclesiastical History is the most tendentious of the three fifth-century pro-Nicene narratives, it remains one of the most successful.⁴ He unabashedly focused on the fourth-century conflict within Christianity, and, unlike Sozomen, was happy to include unflattering details of that struggle. At the same time, he simplified the complex narrative of the era by concentrating on the activity of bishops and emperors, giving the reader an abridged account of the numerous factions and synods that littered the decades of the fourth century. His history is also the shortest of the three and written in the most elevated language, two elements that aided its popularity among his Greek-speaking readers.⁵ Many of these readers were clerics, who relished the emphasis Theodoret placed upon the leaders of the church and who were probably willing to overlook Theodoret’s suspect theology in the same way that they did for Eusebius of Caesarea.

Theodoret’s Syrian background and the fact that he was the last of the four early fifth-century church historians to compose his history make his Ecclesiastical History especially pertinent for our studies. He apparently consulted the works of Sozomen and Socrates and may have employed that of Philostorgius as well as a number of other sources. Nonetheless, Leon Parmentier cautions us from assuming that any parallels between earlier histories and Theodoret are merely the result of the bishop’s incorporating the writings of Socrates, Sozomen, or Philostorgius directly. Parmentier notes that Theodoret likely consulted independently many of the sources used by the previous ecclesiastical historians—particularly collections of documents such as Sabinus’ Collection of Synodal Acts—and drew from those anthologies his own selections of documents and letters.⁶

Parmentier’s arguments appeal to common sense and textual criticism. For example, he questions the assumptions historians make regarding the availability of Theodoret’s sources.⁷ Scholars too often fall into the trap, he claims, of presuming that those in the past possessed only a limited body of documents. Parmentier maintains that Theodoret may have enjoyed a much greater access than often assumed to the collections and other sources of his time and, moreover, may have consulted them directly rather than relying on a narrative of theological disputes composed by a series of laymen.⁸ Parmentier’s introduction also includes several pages of detailed criticism in which he convincingly demonstrates that Theodoret had independent access to sources that underlie Socrates and Sozomen’s account.⁹ He concludes that the best interpretation for any parallel between Theodoret and a given fifth-century historian is that Theodoret and the other historian used a common source for a given detail.¹⁰

This observation has obvious implications for the parallels between Theodoret and Sozomen, particularly those which may have their origins in Gelasius’ Ecclesiastical History.¹¹ In his foreword, Parmentier also gives attention to the narrative regarding Julian’s transfer of the relics of St. Babylas as found in Philostorgius and Theodoret (discussed below). He states explicitly that it seems likely that both Theodoret and Philostorgius drew their material from a third source, which he links to Joseph Bidez’s reconstruction of the Lost Arian History.¹² In addition, he highlights a number of other places that he believes betray the influence of the Lost Arian Historian within Theodoret’s text. To those we now turn.

1.1 Theodoret 2.30: The Siege of Nisibis

Theodoret’s account of the Persian siege of Nisibis provides Parmentier’s first suggestion that Theodoret incorporated material from the Lost Arian History. This passage details the efforts of the Persian King Sapor II (r. 309–379) to conquer the Roman border city of Nisibis, but the real focus of Theodoret’s narrative is Jacob (d. c. 338), the saintly bishop of that city. (Theodoret even directs his audience to his Religious History’s hagiography of Jacob for a fuller treatment of the holy man’s miracles and apostolic life.¹³) The Ecclesiastical History’s narrative focuses on how Jacob’s prayers saved the city from the Persian attack. Readers learn of Sapor’s siege engines, the damming of the nearby river Mygdonius, the Persian king’s use of that dam to destroy the walls of the city, and Jacob’s ability to inspire the people to repair those same walls in a short time.

The key moment, however, comes when the frustrated Sapor sees a kingly person standing upon the battlements.¹⁴ His initial belief that the Roman emperor himself presided over the city’s defense gives way to the realization that it is God who fights for the Romans and whose “bodiless” (ἀσώματον) apparition is apparently manning the walls. The account’s coda explains how Jacob drove away the Persian soldiers by summoning a host of small insects to plague their animals. The resulting confusion led to the invading army’s wholesale withdrawal in disgrace rather than victory.

Theodoret’s account presents a series of problems. First of all, the chronology is skewed. There were actually three different sieges of Nisibis, corresponding to the years 337, 346, and 350.¹⁵ Some events related by Theodoret took place during the first siege, during which Jacob actually died and which occurred shortly after Constantine’s death.¹⁶ In Theodoret’s Ecclesiastical History, he conflates events and mentions only a single siege, which Jacob survives in triumph, toward the end of the reign of Constantius II. In this, Theodoret parallels Philostorgius.¹⁷ Another feature of Theodoret’s account, which he shares with other sources that conflate the three sieges, is the approximate length of the siege, in Theodoret’s case seventy days.¹⁸ For example, Michael the Syrian follows Theodoret’s confused chronology and the length of the siege.¹⁹

In contrast, other sources, some of which are also associated with Bidez’s reconstruction of the Lost Arian History, do not conflate the three different assaults and they give more accurate reckonings of the siege’s duration. Thus, Jerome states it lasted “almost two months” (duobus ferme mensibus), the Chron. misc. gives sixty-six days, and the Chron. 1234 sixty-five.²⁰ Most importantly, Theophanes and the Paschal Chronicle both assert that the siege lasted sixty-three days.²¹ The Paschal Chronicle’s entry on the first siege is for AD 337 (fragment [13]) and is annalistic in its data: The reader learns of Sapor’s intent to sack Nisibis and his withdrawal in defeat after sixty-three days. Jacob is not mentioned. Theophanes AM 5829 (AD 336/37), fragment (13f), offers almost exactly the same wording, though Theophanes’ Chronicle adds that Jacob’s prayers were the determining factor in undermining Sapor’s effort.²²

Richard Burgess believes that these two references—independent of each other and yet offering the same number of days—are the most accurate reflections of the original source.²³ He suggests that this underlying source was not the Lost Arian History but rather a pro-Nicene chronicle which he calls the Continuatio Antiochiensis Eusebii. (We will consider this argument in detail in Chap. 7.) Burgess maintains that the later references to Nisibis’ sieges in AD 350 and AM 5841 (AD 348/49), from the Paschal Chronicle and Theophanes respectively, derive from another source that was not a part of his proposed Continuatio Antiochiensis.²⁴

This has implications for the contents of the Lost Arian History since both Theophanes’ and the Paschal Chronicler’s accounts of the third siege of Nisibis possess striking similarities to that found in Theodoret’s Ecclesiastical History. A number of parallels (siege engines, flooding river, and heavenly apparition) occur in each, though neither Theophanes nor the Paschal Chronicle mistakenly associates the former bishop Jacob with this third siege.²⁵ Also, Theophanes includes the clearest narrative of events even though his account is not the most detailed. Reading Theophanes’ entry for AM 5841, one understands better than in Theodoret 2.30 how the attempt to flood the walls worked against the Persian army.

The Paschal Chronicle, meanwhile, provides specific details regarding the heavenly apparition. Whereas Theophanes suddenly and without explanation introduces the Constantius’ presence and then mentions that an angel stood on the parapet holding the emperor’s hand, the Paschal Chronicle provides a dialogue between Sapor and the people of Nisibis and then another conversation between the Persian king and his magi that accentuate the apparition’s miraculous, and effective, presence. The Paschal Chronicler’s account makes an explicit connection between the apparition and Constantius: Sapor does not merely see someone who looks imperial (as he does in Theodoret’s narrative) or an angel standing next to Constantius (as he does in Theophanes’ account), he sees something “in the form of Constantius the Augustus.”²⁶ With this in mind, Mango and Scott conclude that Theophanes (and one may here include Theodoret) seems to have deliberately suppressed certain narrative aspects that suggested divine support for Constantius.²⁷

One last detail suppressed or ignored by both Theodoret and Theophanes is that the narrative from which all three drew their accounts ultimately came from a letter written by the third bishop of Nisibis, Vologeses (c. 350–361/62). Only the Paschal Chronicle reports that this third bishop of Nisibis wrote a letter describing these events, which presumably occurred while he himself was present.²⁸ Ephrem praised Vologeses’ virtues in his songs and criticized those who rebelled against him, discontents who may possibly have been “Arians.”²⁹ At first glance, it is difficult to reconcile these two portraits of Vologeses: On the one hand, he enjoyed the support of the staunchly pro-Nicene Ephrem; on the other, he apparently included in his letter a favorable portrayal of Constantius, an openly non-Nicene emperor. The importance of the city of Nisibis in the Roman world, meanwhile, makes it unlikely that Constantius would permit a bishop to remain in power who threatened his religious program.³⁰ Perhaps Vologeses walked a fine theological line, not unlike his contemporary Cyril of Jerusalem, avoiding firm support for an non-Nicene position—hence Ephrem’s praise and the possible motive for “Arian” discontentment—while also evading an overt commitment to the Homoousian position, which would have likely led to his replacement.

These descriptions of the third siege in the Paschal Chronicle and Theophanes were included by Bidez as fragments (24) and (24d) of his proposed reconstruction. Theodoret’s parallel account of 2.30 shows similarities that are so numerous and specific as to leave no doubt that Theodoret consulted the Lost Arian History in some fashion.³¹ Indeed, Theodoret, like Theophanes, could not utterly dismiss the apparition’s connection with the emperor even though each tried to minimize this connection in their source material in their own way.³²

Regarding the confused chronology, perhaps Theodoret’s willingness to bend historical facts for the sake of didactic ends, which is well attested, explains this discrepancy.³³ He, a bishop probably either already in or entering into exile, likely hoped to emphasize for his audience the salutary power of a bishop’s intercession. The dramatic and triumphant events of the third siege of Nisibis perhaps made a more convenient background for emphasizing Jacob’s prayerful influence. It is an open question how the chronological confusion arose, especially since Philostorgius’ account also places Jacob as a participant at a later siege.³⁴ Is this evidence that the Lost Arian History made the original error to include Jacob, and Theodoret and Philostorgius merely followed their source? Theophanes and the Paschal Chronicle presumably then excised his anachronistic presence. Or perhaps the original text summarized the sieges as distinct events; Theophanes and the Paschal Chronicle copied their source text and were saved from the error while Philostorgius and Theodoret somehow mistakenly conflated the sieges while incorporating it into their own texts.³⁵ It is difficult to state anything with certainty other than the probability that a relationship exists among these sources and the Lost Arian History.

In conclusion, Burgess’ contention that the first siege of Nisibis, which Jacob actually witnessed, derives from a chronicle seems accurate, as does his belief that the account of the third siege comes from a different source altogether. Theodoret apparently did not employ this first chronicle, but he did incorporate the other account of the later campaign. To this he added the figure of Jacob, either from confusion or through a desire to stress his didactic point. Meanwhile, traces of the underlying source’s sympathy for Constantius remain visible. The most reliable mirror of the original source is probably the author of the Paschal Chronicle, who was apparently not guilty of bending chronology to suit his purposes as was Theodoret, and who also lacked the theological sensitivity of Theophanes, who is obviously attempting to avoid associating Constantius with divine favor. The Paschal Chronicler’s reference to the bishop Vologeses may also derive from this non-Nicene source, since there is little reason to believe the author of the Paschal Chronicle personally sought out various letters and other sources to construct his narrative.

Sozomen, meanwhile, does not include even a reference to Nisibis. If his common source with Theodoret, noted above in Chap. 4, had featured this confused narrative in favor of Jacob, it seems likely that Sozomen, who valued the inclusion of hagiographical accounts, would have included it among his own. The fact that he did not indicates that Theodoret is using another source in addition to that one tentatively ascribed to Gelasius of Caesarea and which probably was the same as the Lost Arian History or an intermediary of that source, such as Philostorgius’ Ecclesiastical History.³⁶

1.2 Theodoret 3.3.7: Constantius’ Speech

Parmentier includes this section among the potential fragments from the Arian Historian because of its favorable account of Constantius. While Theodoret was obviously against “Arianism,” he at times tried to excuse various emperors from full culpability. An illustration of this tendency is his portrayal of Constantius in 3.3.6, which excuses Constantius’ support of “Arianism.” This positive portrayal of Constantius is also in Theophylact’s Martyrion.³⁷ Theophylact and Theodoret both emphasize the emperor’s actions against idols in a way that suggests that they, though both conscious of the difficulties Constantius caused for the pro-Nicene faction, nonetheless had access to an account that praised Constantius for his anti-pagan stance and even his genuine piety. This possible connection between the two only strengthens the suspicion that the Lost Arian History underlies Theodoret’s work.³⁸

The section immediately following in Theodoret is similar: 3.3.7 purports to be a real-life example of Constantius’ genuine piety. There is no other record of Constantius’ speech to his soldiers during the campaign against Magnentius, and this account is striking for its favorable view of Constantius. Clearly, whoever originally recorded or invented this speech intended it to reflect well on the emperor, which, in turn, implies that the author and Constantius shared a common theological position. Unfortunately, the lack of information precludes further exploration of this vignette which may derive from the Lost Arian History.

1.3 Theodoret 3.7: Martyrdoms in Diverse Places During the Reign of Julian

Theodoret’s account of Julian’s persecution also appears to have ties to the Lost Arian History. Fragments (33), from the Paschal Chronicle, (33e) and (33g), both from Theophanes, and (33h) and (33f), derived from Theophylact’s Martyrion, share many common features with Theodoret 3.7. Theodoret, for example, highlights the sufferings of the priests and virgins of Ascalon and Gaza, who, as mentioned in Appendix 1, were murdered and given to swine as food. Theodoret’s catalogue of deeds includes the defilement of John the Baptist’s relics in Sebaste, the murder and apparent cannibalization of the deacon Cyril in Heliopolis (modern Baalbek), the erection of an image of Dionysus in Emesa, the martyrdom of Aemilianus at Durostorum, and, finally, the torments of Mark of Arethusa.

Theodoret’s account does show significant variations from the other sources. For example, Theodoret differs with both the Paschal Chronicle (AD 362) and Theophanes (AM 5853) when he describes the torments of those who ate the liver of the deacon Cyril. Whereas the two chronicles state that only one individual ate the liver and suffered subsequent divine punishment, Theodoret claims that the retribution fell upon multiple people. In addition, whereas the chronicles elaborate a series of sufferings that culminates in a lingering death, Theodoret apparently has all the various afflictions—the loss of teeth, rotting of the tongue, and blindness—occur almost immediately. Theodoret also seemingly ignores some of the original material: The murder of George of Cappadocia and the desecration of the bones of Patrophilus, two prominent non-Nicene figures, are conspicuously absent from Theodoret’s narrative.

Though his account shows variations from the other three sources, Theodoret may share with them a mutual, presumably non-Nicene, source.³⁹ Theodoret may have excise those aspects that were too “Arian” in content, but he does possibly offer in at least one place a detail from the original source that the two later chronicles do not. In both the Paschal Chronicle and Theophanes’ Chronicle the church of Emesa was defiled by the erection of a statue of Dionysus. Theophanes adds the detail that the old church, as opposed to the Great Church which Constantius had helped to build, was destroyed.⁴⁰ Furthermore, only in Theodoret does the reader discover that the statue was specifically in honor of Dionysus “the womanly” (Διονύσῳ τῳ̑ γύννιδι) and was actually an androgynous representation. This detail, preserved solely in Theodoret’s Ecclesiastical History, may indicate an original observation taken from our proposed common source.

The contrasting examples of other ecclesiastical historians further suggest the likelihood of Theodoret’s relationship with the Lost Arian History. For example, Socrates’ focus during the persecution is entirely different from that of Theodoret. Socrates reports pagan acts against prominent figures, such as the future emperors Jovian, Valentinian, and Valens as well as George of Cappadocia, but he predominantly focuses on the persecution in the environs of Constantinople itself. His narrative highlights Maris of Chalcedon’s rebuke to Julian and the hypocrisy of Ecebolius, a sophist of Constantinople who changed religions based on the faith of the emperor.⁴¹ Events in Gaza, Ascalon and Emesa and the stories of Mark of Arethusa and the deacon Cyril are absent from Socrates’ account. Given Socrates’ background and his association with the capital city, this focus on Constantinople and lack of detail about events in Syria is not surprising. Rufinus’ continuation of Eusebius does mention the assault on the relics of John the Baptist in Sebaste, but there appears to be little textual relationship between him and those that apparently rely on the Lost Arian History: Rufinus’ narrative quickly explores the attempt to recover the relics and their eventual transmission to Athanasius—a story utterly lacking in any of the accounts above.⁴² Like Socrates, Rufinus does not discuss the Syrian events that are conspicuous in Theodoret and others who seem to have consulted the Lost Arian History.

Sozomen’s account of Julian’s persecution is the most difficult to assess. As Chap. 4 noted, Sozomen parallels certain aspects, such as the martyrdoms of the virgins of Gaza and Mark of Arethusa. For Mark’s story, Sozomen’s narrative closely tracks that of Gregory of Nazianzus, and he has the detail found in Gregory and not in Theodoret that the martyr’s tormentors severed his ears by “fine ropes” (σπαρτίοις λεπτοι̑ς).⁴³ Interestingly, the detail found in Gregory regarding Mark being dragged through the sewers is not in Sozomen, but it is in Theodoret. Also, Theodoret alone presents Mark’s reported response to the pagans’ demand that he contribute at least a small sum to the rebuilding of the temple that he had overturned.⁴⁴ Gelasius’ ecclesiastical history could satisfy this relationship if it expanded the story found in Gregory and served as a common source consulted by the two historians.⁴⁵ An economical solution is that Gelasius’ narrative either included the content of a sermon of Gregory or drew from the same tradition and was incorporated—perhaps alongside that sermon?—by the two later ecclesiastical historians.

Fragments (33g) and (33h), from Theophanes and Theophylact respectively, also include Mark’s sufferings. Given parallels among sources associated with the Lost Arian History, it seems likely that some form of the Mark of Arethusa story was included in that source. It may be that Theodoret received his account from the Lost Arian History rather than Gregory or Gelasius, but it is simply impossible to determine what source Theodoret was employing here. Since it is possible that Theodoret used both sources, it may be that his text is a combination of the two.

1.4 Theodoret 3.10–11: The Oracle of Daphne, St. Babylas, and Theodore the Confessor

Theodoret recounts in these two chapters a series of closely related events. The episode begins with Julian’s supplication to Apollo at Daphne. The oracle itself informs him that the god is unable to deliver a prophecy regarding Julian’s upcoming expedition against the Persians because of corpses buried nearby. Though initially vague, Theodoret quickly identifies at least some of the bodies as those of the martyr Babylas and his (unnumbered) young co-martyrs.⁴⁶ According to Theodoret’s account, Julian ordered the remains of these martyrs removed but apparently left alone the others buried in the grove. Christians sang a psalm in triumph as they processed out of the grove to the new burial ground for the relics, for, as Theodoret states, they realized that Julian’s order and the god’s muteness really signified the defeat of the demon.

Theodoret 3.11 continues this narrative through the story of a martyr’s sufferings at the hands of Julian’s ministers. The emperor ordered those who had led the procession to be arrested, and Sallustius tortured one such leader, Theodore, by tearing his sides and scourging his back. Theodore would later state that an angel comforted him during his tortures so that he was able to bear them well. Theodore’s resolve convinced Sallustius that the punishment was harming rather than helping the emperor’s cause, and he convinced Julian to set the Christian free.

The destruction of the shrine concludes the chapter. A thunderbolt (σκηπτὸς) from heaven destroyed the shrine, and the wooden statue of Apollo burned to dust in the conflagration. Theodoret next includes an important detail. He states that Count Julian, the emperor Julian’s uncle, learned of this catastrophe at night and hurried to the site; he scourged those associated with the temple in order to discover what Christian had set the temple to fire, only to discover that they, and some nearby rustics, declared that the fire had come from the sky.

This story of Babylas and the oracle of Apollo raises important questions regarding Theodoret’s relationship with previous authors. Rufinus’ History 10.36–37 gives an abbreviated account of the confrontation at Daphne. In his rendition, the oracle does not speak, but rather the pagan priests declare specifically that it is the body of Babylas (sans his young companions) that stops the oracle’s pronouncements. The triumphal Christian procession—complete with the same psalm cited in Theodoret—follows. What makes Rufinus’ report particularly stand out is the eye-witness testimony that he received from Theodore himself, who told him of his vision and his lack of suffering in the midst of torments. Rufinus’ account then shifts its focus to Jerusalem and the attempt of the Jews to rebuild the temple.

Socrates 3.18–19 tracks Rufinus’ account closely and cites that Ecclesiastical History as a source: Julian’s attempt to communicate with the oracle is frustrated by the nearby relics of Babylas, which are then removed with rejoicing and singing by faithful Christians. Socrates then concludes with the story of Theodore’s sufferings and the miracle associated with them.

Sozomen and Philostorgius offer narratives that are more akin to that of Theodoret than that of Socrates or Rufinus. Philostorgius 7.8 apparently describes the emperor Julian’s contempt for the martyrs’ bodies, the speech that the demons were forced to give (presumably admitting that they could not foretell the future with the relics nearby), and the destruction of the temple and the statue within through lightning. Other details include the presence of the graves of three young brothers who were martyred alongside Babylas. Interestingly, Philostorgius is uncertain whether Babylas perished during the reign of Numerian or Decius.⁴⁷

Though Photius’ epitome includes no further details for this episode, another source that incorporated Philostorgius’ narrative gives us more material from his Ecclesiastical History. Philostorgius 7.8a is derived from the Artemii Passio, which itself incorporated Philostorgius’ account; it includes details regarding the grove of Daphne, the statue of Apollo, and the martyrdom of Babylas (including his three young companions).⁴⁸ In this portrayal, a demon informed Eusebius, a priest of the shrine, that he could not prophesy while Babylas’ relics lay so close, thus setting in motion the events that led to the body’s removal.⁴⁹ The fire falls from heaven at night, and Count Julian arrives to watch the flames consume the shrine. His imperial nephew, meanwhile, closes Christian churches and promotes acts of sacrileges within them.

A number of details—such as the active communication of the oracle (or demon), the fire at night, and the presence of Count Julian—set both Philostorgius and Theodoret apart from Socrates and Rufinus. Sozomen 5.19–20 offers a complementary narrative in many respects. He obviously drew upon Rufinus/Socrates for his story of Theodore, but he also included the detail that, despite its apparent inability to speak, the oracle finally revealed that the presence of dead bodies prevented it from giving a prophecy.⁵⁰ Julian realized that the true reason was the body of Babylas, which his brother Gallus had translated there during his reign as Caesar.⁵¹ Regarding the destruction of the shrine, Sozomen describes which parts of the structure escaped the conflagration. He also mirrors Theodoret’s story that Julian employed violence against those associated with the temple, in this case an individual pagan priest, in an effort to learn the name of the Christians presumed responsible. Sozomen concludes with Julian’s order to destroy the other martyrs’ shrines that were near the temple of Apollo in Caria.

Van Nuffelen attributes Sozomen’s account in part to John Chrysostom’s sermon, De S. Babyla contra Julianum et gentiles.⁵² It is true that Chrysostom’s account parallels Sozomen’s and the others in a number of details such as the silence of the demon until it declares that the corpses nearby make it mute.⁵³ Parmentier, in contrast, believes that Sozomen drew from the Lost Arian History. He suggests that the Theodore story may be a crucial link among Theodoret, Sozomen, and Philostorgius and argues that their accounts derive from a different tradition from that of the eye-witness testimony found in Rufinus.⁵⁴ Parmentier notes a number of details that are shared among them and believes that, though Philostorgius’ epitomized account does not include Theodore, a source common among the three possessed it.⁵⁵ He believes that this underlying material was the Lost Arian History.⁵⁶ While this is possible, the unknown role played by John Chrysostom makes certainty in this case more difficult. It is possible that John knew of the Antiochene source and incorporated it into his sermons, but this theory cannot be confirmed. As it stands, it appears possible and even likely that the Lost Arian History had a role in the transmission of this tradition, but how this is so is too tangled to unravel.

1.5 Theodoret 3.12–13: The Sacrilege of Count Julian and Felix and Their Punishments

Theophanes AM 5854, or AD 361/62, and Philostorgius 7.10 both relate the actions committed by Count Julian and Felix, the imperial treasurer, in the church of Antioch and how they each suffered fatal punishments thereafter. That both sources appear to be drawing upon a common tradition seems obvious, especially since each presents information that the other lacks in some way.⁵⁷

Theodoret’s account, like that of Philostorgius 7.10, provides the name of the third companion, a certain Elpidius, and it also includes two details that are not present elsewhere.⁵⁸ The one, found in 3.13, describes how Count Julian’s Christian wife castigated her husband for his impiety.⁵⁹ According to Theodoret, the hapless uncle tried to make amends for his evil deed, but he could not convince his imperial nephew to return the sacred vessels.

The other unattested detail is far more interesting. Theodoret’s narrative had already mentioned that the church in question was, at the time of the sacrilege, in the hands of a non-Nicene congregation, so when it continues with the story of a certain Euzoius and his attempted defense of the sacred vessels, there is no reason to doubt that he was speaking of a non-Nicene figure. When this Euzious attempted to stop Count Julian from performing an indecency on the altar, the apostate struck Euzoius and mocked him for his lack of divine protection. The significance of this episode is that, in contrast with other accounts such as that of Mark of Arethusa, the “Arian” identity of the heroic Euzoius remains embedded in the text.

Sozomen 5.8 includes a parallel story. A certain Theodoret (not the bishop of Cyrrhus) remained behind when, according to Sozomen, all the other presbyters had fled Antioch. This brave individual was ultimately seized, tortured, and executed by the command of Count Julian. Sozomen relates that Theodoret, despite his torture, remained true to his religious orthodoxy, which in this context may signify loyalty to Christianity in general rather than the pro-Nicene theology specifically.⁶⁰

There are two possible ways to interpret Sozomen’s addition. First is van Nuffelen’s belief that Sozomen’s tale of Count Julian derives from John Chrysostom.⁶¹ Yet, while there are many parallels between the two documents, Sozomen’s story of Theodoret is not found in John’s and thus, likely comes from another source. The second solution is that Sozomen drew from a source that included parts of the Lost Arian History but was not that history itself. Chapter 4 suggests that Sozomen used the lost Ecclesiastical History of Gelasius of Caesarea. This proposed intermediary between Sozomen and the Lost Arian History reasonably answers how it was that Theodoret and Sozomen have much in common (for example, the parallels between Theodoret 3.7 and Sozomen 5.10). Theodoret did not simply rely on Sozomen since each account contains details that are absent from the other. Furthermore, Sozomen’s presbyter Theodoret contrasts oddly with Theodoret’s Euzoius. Could Gelasius have substituted or emphasized a certain figure in contrast to the non-Nicene perspective offered by the Lost Arian History? Gelasius of Caesarea undoubtedly knew the nature of his source and probably drew from it things that reflected poorly on Julian without including some of the more prominent “Arian” aspects—much in the same way that Theodoret probably consciously refrains from mentioning George of Cappadocia and Patrophilus. This solution is, of course, hypothetical, but it does have the virtue of explaining a number of loose ends without multiplying our sources.⁶²

1.6 Theodoret 3.16: Valentinian

Chapter 4 has already explored at length Woods’ theory regarding the stories of Valentinian I, Valens, and the events described in Theodoret 3.16. We reiterate that the textual tradition is too convoluted to propose anything with confidence. Given that the arguments developed both in Chap. 4 and above suggest that Theodoret had access to both Gelasius’ Ecclesiastical History and the Lost Arian History, it may be that his account derives from a combination of the two sources.

1.7 Theodoret 3.18.1: Duke Artemius

Parmentier lists this brief notice among the possible fragments from the lost history, and it is obvious that Theodoret is drawing upon a tradition that is independent of the Ecclesiastical Histories of Socrates and Sozomen. Artemius is not mentioned in either, but Theodoret identifies him as the commander of the imperial troops in Egypt and a zealous opponent of idols who eventually lost his property and his life at the hands of Julian.

Theodoret’s statement is brief, but the legacy of Artemius would become prominent in future centuries thanks in part to the Artemii Passio, a hagiographical account of Artemius’ death written by a certain John the Monk perhaps at the end of the eighth century.⁶³ Even though Photius’ epitome has left us with no trace of Philostorgius’ own attitude toward Artemius, we know that the Passio claimed to draw upon material from Philostorgius’ Ecclesiastical History in its composition. Interestingly, despite gleaning contextual details from Philostorgius, the Passio’s author apparently had little knowledge of the historical Artemius, and it may be that Philostorgius had little or no content about the martyr himself.⁶⁴

The historical Artemius was quite different from the saint presented by the Artemii Passio.⁶⁵ On the one hand, it is apparent that the dux Aegypti enters our sources already a committed Christian and faithful servant of Constantius II. By 360, his service gained him an appointment of authority in Egypt, where, during his tenure as dux, he was known for his vigorous efforts against paganism, most notably when he destroyed the statues and votive offerings associated with the temple of Serapis. On the other hand, Artemius’ particular form of Christian zeal would take many of the subsequent readers of his Passio by surprise. As the military governor of Egypt, Artemius drove the recalcitrant pro-Nicene Athanasius into the desert and also supported and collaborated with Athanasius’ competitor, George of Cappadocia (d. 361). Though his anti-Nicene fervor corresponds well with Artemius’ apparently close relationship to Constantius II, this hostility presents a striking contrast with the honor given to him centuries later by pro-Nicene Christians.

It was Artemius’ death in 362 at the order of Julian the Apostate that enabled this subsequent transformation from persecutor to hero. Though Ammianus Marcellinus associates Artemius’ execution with those punished for political crimes, Christian witnesses, such as the Paschal Chronicle and Theophanes, unequivocally emphasized Artemius’ zeal against paganism as the cause of his judicial murder.⁶⁶ In the wake of his execution, Christians celebrated his memory and, over the years, seemingly forgot the antagonism that the man now honored as “St. Artemius” had once harbored against Athanasius and other orthodox Christians. In Constantinople his relics attracted devotion to the martyr’s healing intercession, and a number of miracle stories were associated with his patronage by the middle of the seventh century.⁶⁷ By the Iconoclast era in the eighth and ninth centuries, however, Artemius’ popularity appears to have dwindled, even in the capital where it had enjoyed its greatest influence.⁶⁸

Theodoret’s notice of Artemius is significant since he includes this figure, however briefly, among his accounts of Christians who suffered under Julian. Despite the later orthodox embrace of Artemius, it is apparent that those who initially honored him would be those who shared the martyr’s theological stance. It seems likely that Theodoret’s source was therefore a non-Nicene account which probably also informed Philostorgius, even though Photius’ epitome lacks concrete evidence of Artemius’ presence. Chapter 6 returns to Artemius, his passion account, and their relationship to the Lost Arian Historian when it considers Ammianus Marcellinus’ own independent account of Artemius.

1.8 Theodoret 3.20–21.1: The Rebuilding of the Jewish Temple

The attempt to rebuild the Jewish Temple is one of the most conspicuous episodes in the ecclesiastical histories.⁶⁹ Rufinus’ account, 10.38–40, stresses the arrogance of the Jewish people as they begin their work. His narrative contrasts the foolishness of the non-believers with the witness of Cyril of Jerusalem that no two stones of the temple could be placed together. On the night before work was to commence, he declared that an earthquake leveled the area and buried a number of Jewish workers under the public porticoes where they had been staying. As if this were not enough, Rufinus adds that a fireball from the earth attacked those attempting to work until they abandoned their project. The following night, the account continues, a cross appeared on everyone’s clothing, and, though some tried to wash it away, they could not get rid of this Christian symbol.

Socrates 3.20 builds upon Rufinus’ depiction, and he adds details regarding the punitive fire. This, he claims, came not from Rufinus’ underground chamber but from heaven itself. Furthermore, Socrates elaborates how the tools to be used suffered from the flames, which lasted for the entire day. Socrates concludes with regret that these wonders failed to bring about any conversion among the Jews.

Sozomen 5.22, meanwhile, develops a nuanced view of the Jewish endeavor to rebuild the Temple.⁷⁰ He draws his readers’ attention to the hostility that Julian felt toward both Christians and Jews and emphasizes that the Jews who worked on the temple were deceived into thinking this was truly beneficial to them. Rufinus likewise suggests that Julian desired to trick the Jews, but Sozomen develops this by stating that the emperor hoped this would lead them into polytheistic worship. Socrates merely notes that Julian loved sacrifices and therefore wanted the Jews to offer blood sacrifice, too. Sozomen’s implicitly less hostile view continues with a number of outright contradictions to the account of Socrates. The latter stated that the fire came from the sky and, despite three miracles (earthquake, fire, and crosses on clothing), no one converted through the experience. Sozomen, in contrast, offers two theories about the source of the fire, but locates the source of each on the ground. He also includes more details of the injuries suffered by the Jews and concludes with an account that many converted to Christianity. His last word on the episode is to direct the doubtful to speak with those who had spoken with eyewitnesses if they wished to ascertain the validity of his statements.

Theodoret 3.20–21.1 states that Julian desired to overturn the words of Christ’s prophecy that no two stones of the temple would rest atop of each other. His account includes further details, such as the silver tools prepared by the Jews, a whirlwind that disperses the materials that they were planning to use prior to the earthquake, and the mysterious undoing during the night of each day’s work. His description of the fire, like that of Sozomen, locates it in the excavated areas, and not only are there (black) crosses on the Jews’ clothing for two evenings but even a heavenly cross in the sky. His thoughts on any conversions are ambiguous since he mentions the Jews’ confession of Christ’s divinity but does not state specifically that they converted.

Philostorgius 7.9 and 7.9a (derived from the Artemii Passio) parallel some of the information found in Theodoret. Both Photius’ epitome and the Artemii Passio confirm that Philostorgius, like Theodoret, cited Julian’s desire to prove Christ’s prophecy false as the reason for Julian’s promotion of the Jewish rebuilding effort.⁷¹ Furthermore, 7.9a offers a number of details that are mirrored solely in Theodoret: The silver tools used by the Jews and the storm that preceded the earthquake. Interestingly, Theophanes AM 5855—Bidez’s fragment (36a)—also makes mention of this storm and, like Philostorgius 7.9a, mentions the name of the overseer appointed by Julian.

Two other sources should be considered. Gregory of Nazianzus’ second oration against Julian recounts the effort to rebuild the temple and shares many of its details with Philostorgius and Theodoret: The windstorm, an earthquake, the heavenly apparition in the form of the cross, and the fire from the temple.⁷² Furthermore, both Gregory and Sozomen describe the willingness of the Jewish women to offer their possessions in order to help the rebuilding effort.⁷³ In a similar fashion, John Chrysostom recounts Julian’s hope to prove Christ’s words false, the Jews’ silver tools, and the fire from the temple’s foundations.⁷⁴

How do these various witnesses relate to one another, and what is the relationship, if any, between them and the Lost Arian Historian? The answer to these questions is intimately associated with one last source, a letter discovered by Sebastian Brock several decades ago which purports to be authored by Cyril of Jerusalem.⁷⁵ This letter incorporates many of the details above in its description of the attempt to rebuild the Jewish Temple and supposedly it was sent throughout the Christian world by Cyril. Brock ultimately concludes from internal and external evidence that the letter was a forgery.⁷⁶ Nonetheless, as David Levenson observes, the letter’s content most likely includes material derived from the Arian History.⁷⁷

The letter’s pertinent sections, §11–12, actually form a coda that is awkwardly attached to the main text of the letter. This conclusion offers a catalogue of twenty-one to twenty-three cities that suffered during an earthquake in 363, presumably the same earthquake associated by later historians with the aborted rebuilding effort. This number, if one factors in scribal error and textual corruption, coincides remarkably well with the twenty-one cities which the Chron. misc., Bidez’s fragment (38a), describes as being damaged or destroyed on account of God’s justice.⁷⁸ Levenson explains this parallel by suggesting the influence of the Arian Historian. The letter’s list of cities destroyed also coincides with a similar, though briefer, list preserved in the Artemii Passio.⁷⁹ The author of the Passio incorporated Philostorgius, who, in turn, drew upon the Lost History, and it seems probable that these three—the letter, the Chron. misc., and Philostorgius/Artemii Passio—are all connected via the Arian History.

The association between the letter and the Arian Historian becomes more obvious in §12 and its description of the death of Julian. The letter states that justice overtook the “rebel” (Julian) in foreign territory, a remarkable parallel to the sentiment expressed in Theophanes’ Chronicle AM 5855 (AD 362/63). Theophanes includes both the motif of foreign territory and that of divine justice in his account of the death of Julian.⁸⁰

This raises an important question. Theophanes, Theodoret, and Philostorgius all appear to be related to some degree to an underlying account, presumably the Lost Arian History. And yet, there are a number of moments in which Theodoret and Philostorgius agree with each other (for example the silver tools) and not with Theophanes. Levenson concludes that Theophanes, if drawing his account from the Lost History, did so from an abbreviated manuscript.⁸¹ This version may have abridged the entire reign of Julian since both Theodoret and Philostorgius offer details from this period that are not found in Theophanes, for example the information regarding Count Julian and Felix. Levenson argues that Theophanes nonetheless preserves the core of the “Arian” account of the temple rebuilding and furthermore is a witness to a tradition that did not associate an earthquake with the cessation of the rebuilding; those sources that did, he continues, incorporated material from others such as Rufinus or Gregory of Nazianzus.⁸² In the “Arian tradition” this earthquake, as evidenced in the letter and Chron. misc., was seen as God’s punishment inflicted on the pagans in those cities that had persecuted the Christians.⁸³ Levenson believes this interpretation represents an Antiochene tradition that developed alongside a parallel tradition represented by Gregory and Ephrem, which associated the earthquake with the rebuilding of the temple.⁸⁴

It may be possible to explain these common details, such as the flame from the foundation and the silver tools, without recourse to the Lost History. The possibility that Gelasius wrote an ecclesiastical history could explain a number of parallels in both Sozomen and Theodoret. That the attempt to rebuild the Jewish Temple would be known by Gelasius and included in his narrative is obvious given his connections to Jerusalem through his uncle Cyril. It is also possible that there developed an early Jerusalem tradition that connected the earthquake with the rebuilding in a manner that was not paralleled in Antioch. This probably informed Rufinus’ account and may well have also shaped that of Gelasius and those sources that later borrowed from him.⁸⁵ In this light, Philostorgius could have derived his information either from Gelasius or from his own experience as he traveled. The story of the attempt to rebuild the Jewish Temple is an engaging one, especially from a Christian perspective, and Philostorgius, if he did not use Gelasius, could easily have recorded traditions while living in Palestine or during his journeys through Syria.⁸⁶ Theodoret’s parallels, particularly the silver tools used by the Jewish community, could be explained by his dependence at this point on Philostorgius’ Ecclesiastical History (or perhaps that of Gelasius) and not necessarily on the Lost Arian History.⁸⁷ In a similar manner, Theophanes AM 5855, Bidez’s fragment (36a), could derive from his (or his source’s) awareness of Theodoret, Gelasius or, less likely, Philostorgius.⁸⁸

A mutual reliance on the Lost Arian History makes, as Levenson has argued, for a more efficient relationship among the sources, but that does not imply that they necessarily, or even probably, had such a relationship.⁸⁹ Alternative readings are also plausible, in which the Lost Arian History does not play a role in the transmission of the rebuilding story. The very multiplicity of references and details from a very early stage demonstrates the popularity the story enjoyed, and one cannot trace the relationships among the sources with much confidence. Meanwhile, the absence of the temple-rebuilding story (as opposed to the earthquake of 363) in both the Paschal Chronicle and the Chron. misc. is an omission that may reveal the Lost Arian History’s original content. These represent two distinct historiographical branches that incorporated the Lost Arian History, one based in Constantinople, the other in Syria. For both not to incorporate it if it was available to them seems highly improbable, especially since the dramatic qualities and polemical opportunities represented by the rebuilding narrative make it easier to believe that these two chroniclers lacked access to the account rather than that one or both consciously chose not to include it.⁹⁰

This may be evidence that an edition or manuscript of the Lost History circulated without the rebuilding story while another did include it. This would explain how it was, for example, that Theodoret, Philostorgius, and Theophanes mentioned the rebuilding while the Paschal Chronicle did not. Perhaps both the Paschal Chronicler and the author of the Chron. misc. employed a mutilated text. This raises the question of a “second edition,” one that reflects either a later work or a more complete manuscript, that informed some Syrian sources, such as, apparently, Agapius’ Universal History and The Chronicle of Seert.⁹¹ Yet this opens even further questions regarding these chronicles’ inclusion of the rebuilding while excluding other aspects of this hypothetical edition (or mutilated manuscript) of the Lost Arian History.

Finally, it seems reasonable that not only Theophanes but also Michael the Syrian, Agapius, and others used the lost Syriac chronicle of Theophilus of Edessa.⁹² Could Theophilus have incorporated the text of Theodoret or any other of the earlier sources that are known, and thus different patterns of parallels emerged?

There is no particularly elegant solution to the riddle our extant sources have bequeathed us, but when in doubt, it seems best to use the Paschal Chronicle as a basis for forming our understanding of the parameters of the Lost Arian History. The Paschal Chronicler’s lack of theological acumen and apparent lack of interest in manipulating his text make his witness appear to be our best chance for rediscovering the original text. Of course, it is possible that the chronicler dealt with a mutilated manuscript. Bidez’s reconstruction, for example, stops referencing the Paschal Chronicle just before any reference to the Jewish Temple would presumably be included. Perhaps that particular manuscript ended there through accident. Or perhaps it ended with a catalogue of punishments and an earthquake as indicated in the Chron. misc. There are simply too many variables to state with any assurance one way or the other, and so it seems prudent to conclude tentatively, on the evidence of the Paschal Chronicle, that the account of the Jewish Temple is independent of the Lost Arian History and instead may indicate parallels among our sources with Gelasius’ Ecclesiastical History or some (oral?) tradition.

2 Conclusion

Theodoret, unlike Sozomen, appears to have relied directly upon the Lost Arian Historian and to have some incorporated material from that history. However, this does not necessarily include everything suggested by Parmentier; some aspects, such as the account of the rebuilding of the Jewish Temple, can be explained in other ways. It also seems likely that Theodoret had access to Gelasius, since his text has parallels with Sozomen’s as mentioned both in this chapter and in the previous one. A connection between Theodoret and Philostorgius may also exist, though it seems more likely that these parallels have their origin from their mutual use of the Lost Arian History.⁹³